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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e15f6b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50701 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50701) diff --git a/old/50701-0.txt b/old/50701-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6e6e56c..0000000 --- a/old/50701-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5091 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: On the Plantation - A Story of a Georgia Boy's Adventures during the War - -Author: Joel Chandler Harris - -Illustrator: E. W. Kemble - -Release Date: December 15, 2015 [EBook #50701] -Last Updated: March 15, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -ON THE PLANTATION - -A Story Of A Georgia Boy's Adventures During The War - -By Joel Chandler Harris - -Author Of Uncle Remus - -With Twenty-Three Illustrations By E. W. Kemble - -New York - -D. Appleton And Company - -1892 - - -JOSEPH ADDISON TURNER - -LAWYER, EDITOR, SCHOLAR, PLANTER, - -AND PHILANTHROPIST THIS MIXTURE - -OF FACT AND FICTION IS INSCRIBED - - - - -INTRODUCTORY NOTE. - - -Some of my friends who have read in serial form the chronicles that -follow profess to find in them something more than an autobiographical -touch. Be it so. It would indeed be difficult to invest the commonplace -character and adventures of Joe Maxwell with the vitality that belongs -to fiction. Nevertheless, the lad himself, and the events which are -herein described, seem to have been born of a dream. That which is -fiction pure and simple in these pages bears to me the stamp of truth, -and that which is true reads like a clumsy invention. In this matter -it is not for me to prompt the reader. He must sift the fact from the -fiction and label it to suit himself. - -J. C. H. - - - - -ON THE PLANTATION. - - - - -CHAPTER I--JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START - - -The post-office in the middle Georgia village of Hillsborough used -to be a queer little place, whatever it is now. It was fitted up in -a cellar; and the postmaster, who was an enterprising gentleman from -Connecticut, had arranged matters so that those who went after their -letters and papers could at the same time get their grocery supplies. - -Over against the wall on one side was a faded green sofa. It was not an -inviting seat, for in some places the springs peeped through, and one of -its legs was broken, giving it a suspicious tilt against the wall. But -a certain little boy found one corner of the rickety old sofa a very -comfortable place, and he used to curl up there nearly every day, -reading such stray newspapers as he could lay hands on, and watching the -people come and go. - -To the little boy the stock of goods displayed for sale was as curious -in its variety as the people who called day after day for the letters -that came or that failed to come. To some dainty persons the mingled -odor of cheese, cam-phene, and mackerel would have been disagreeable; -but Joe Maxwell--that was the name of the little boy--had a healthy -disposition and a strong stomach, and he thought the queer little -post-office was one of the pleasantest places in the world. - -A partition of woodwork and wire netting cut off the post-office and the -little stock of groceries from the public at large, but outside of that -was an area where a good many people could stand and wait for their -letters. In one corner of this area was the rickety green sofa, and -round about were chairs and boxes and barrels on which tired people -could rest themselves. - -The Milledgeville papers had a large circulation in the county. They -were printed at the capital of the State, and were thought to be very -important on that account. They had so many readers in the neighborhood -that the postmaster, in order to save time and trouble, used to pile -them up on a long shelf outside the wooden partition, where each -subscriber could help himself. Joe Maxwell took advantage of this -method, and on Tuesdays, when the Milledgeville papers arrived, he could -always be found curled up in the corner of the old green sofa reading -the _Recorder_ and the _Federal Union_. What he found in those papers to -interest him it would be hard to say. They were full of political essays -that were popular in those days, and they had long reports of political -conventions and meetings from all parts of the State. They were papers -for grown people, and Joe Maxwell was only twelve years old, and small -for his age. - -There was another place that Joe found it pleasant to visit, and that -was a lawyer's office in one of the rooms of the old tavern that looked -out on the pillared veranda. It was a pleasant place to him, not because -it was a law-office, but because it was the office of a gentleman -who was very friendly to the youngster. The gentleman's name was Mr. -Deometari, and Joe called him Mr. Deo, as did the other people of -Hillsborough. He was fat and short and wore whiskers, which gave him a -peculiar appearance at that time. All the rest of the men that Joe knew -wore either a full beard or a mustache and an imperial. For that reason -Mr. Deometari's whiskers were very queer-looking. He was a Greek, and -there was a rumor among the people about town that he had been compelled -to leave his country on account of his politics. Joe never knew until -long afterward that politics could be a crime. He thought that politics -consisted partly in newspaper articles signed “Old Subscriber” and “Many -Citizens” and “Vox Populi” and “Scrutator,” and partly in arguments -between the men who sat in fine weather on the dry-goods boxes under the -china-trees. But there was a mystery about Mr. Deometari, and it pleased -the lad to imagine all sorts of romantic stories about the fat lawyer. -Although Mr. Deometari was a Greek, there was no foreign twang to his -tongue. Only as close an observer as the boy could have told from his -talk that he was a foreigner. He was a good lawyer and a good speaker, -and all the other lawyers seemed to like him. They enjoyed his company -so well that it was only occasionally that Joe found him in his office -alone. - -[Illustration: 0026] - -Once Mr. Deometari took from his closet a military uniform and put it -on. Joe Maxwell thought it was the most beautiful uniform he had ever -seen. Gold braid ran down the sides of the trousers, gold cords hung -loosely on the breast of the coat, and a pair of tremendous epaulets -surmounted the shoulders. The hat was something like the hats Joe had -seen in picture-books. It was caught up at the sides with little -gold buttons, and trimmed with a long black feather that shone like a -pigeon's breast. Fat as Mr. Deometari was, the lad thought he looked -very handsome in his fine uniform. This was only one incident. In his -room, which was a large one, Mr. Deometari had boxes packed with books, -and he gave Joe leave to ransack them. Many of the volumes were in -strange tongues, but among them were some quaint old English books, -and these the lad relished beyond measure. After a while Mr. Deometari -closed his office and went away to the war. - -It would not be fair to say that Joe was a studious lad. On the -contrary, he was of an adventurous turn of mind, and he was not at all -fond of the books that were in his desk at Hillsborough Academy. He was -full of all sorts of pranks and capers, and there were plenty of people -in the little town ready to declare that he would come to some bad end -if he was not more frequently dosed with what the old folks used to call -hickory oil. Some of Joe Maxwell's pranks were commonplace, but others -were ingenious enough to give him quite a reputation for humor, and -one prank in particular is talked of by the middle-aged people of -Hillsborough to this day. - -The teacher of the academy had organized a military company among the -pupils--it was just about the time when rumors and hints of war had -begun to take shape--and a good deal of interest was felt in the -organization, especially by the older boys. Of this company Joe Maxwell -was the fourth corporal, a position which gave him a place at the foot -of the company. The Hillsborough Cadets drilled every school-day, and -sometimes on Saturdays, and they soon grew to be very proud of their -proficiency. - -At last, after a good deal of manoeuvring on the playgrounds and in the -public square, the teacher, who was the captain, concluded that the boys -had earned a vacation, and it was decided that the company should go -into camp for a week on the Oconee River, and fish and hunt and have a -good time generally. The boys fairly went wild when the announcement was -made, and some of them wanted to hug the teacher, who had hard work to -explain that an attempt of this sort was not in accord with military -tactics or discipline. - -All the arrangements were duly made. Tents were borrowed from the -Hillsborough Rifles, and the drum corps of that company was hired to -make music. A half-dozen wagons carried the camp outfit and the small -boys, while the larger ones marched. It was an entirely new experience -for Joe Maxwell, and he enjoyed it as only a healthy and high-spirited -boy could enjoy it. The formal and solemn way in which the guard was -mounted was very funny to him, and the temptation to make a joke of it -was too strong to be resisted. - -The tents were pitched facing each other, with the officers' tent at the -head of the line thus formed. At the other end of the lane and a little -to the rear was the baggage-tent, in which the trunks, boxes, and -commissaries were stored. Outside of all, the four sentinels marched -up and down. The tents were pitched in an old field that was used as -a pasture, and Joe noticed during the afternoon two mules and a horse -browsing around. He noticed, too, that these animals were very much -disturbed, especially when the drums began to beat, and that their -curiosity would not permit them to get very far from the camp, no matter -how frightened they were. - -It happened that one of Joe's messmates was to go on guard duty at -twelve o'clock that night. He was a fat, awkward, good-natured fellow, -this messmate, and a heavy sleeper, too, so that, when the corporal -of the guard undertook to arouse him, all the boys in the tent -were awakened. All except Joe quickly went to sleep again, but this -enterprising youngster quietly put on his clothes, and, in the confusion -of changing the guard, slipped out of the lines and hid in a convenient -gully not far from the camp. - -It was his intention to worry if not to frighten his messmate, and while -he lay there trying to think out the best plan to pursue, he heard the -horse and mules trampling and snorting not very far off. Their curiosity -was not yet satisfied, and they seemed to be making their way toward the -camp for the purpose of reconnoitering. - -Joe's mind was made up in an instant. - -He slipped down the gully until the animals were between him and the -camp, and then, seizing a large pine brush that happened to be lying -near, he sprang toward them. The mules and horse were ripe for a -stampede. The camp itself was an object of suspicion, and this attack -from an unexpected quarter was too much for them. Snorting with terror -they rushed in the direction of the tents. The sleepy sentinel, hearing -them coming, fired his gun in the air and ran yelling into the camp, -followed by the horse and one of the mules. The other mule shied to the -right when the gun was fired, and ran into the baggage-tent. There was -a tremendous rattle and clatter of boxes, pots, pans, and crockery ware. -The mule, crazed with fright, made a violent effort to get through the -tent, but it caught him in some way. Finally, the ropes that held it -down gave way, and the mule, with the tent flapping and flopping on his -back, turned and rushed through the camp. To all but Joe Maxwell it was -a horrifying sight. Many of the boys, as the saying is, “took to -the woods,” and some of them were prostrated with fright. These were -consequences that Joe had not counted on, and it was a long time before -he confessed to his share in the night's sport. The results reached -further than the camp. In another part of the plantation the negroes -were holding a revival meeting in the open air, preaching and shouting -and singing. Toward this familiar scene the mule made his way, -squealing, braying, and kicking, the big white tent flopping on his -back. As the terrified animal circled around the place, the negroes -cried out that Satan had come, and the panic that ensued among them is -not easily described. Many thought that the apparition was the ushering -in of the judgment-day, while by far the greater number firmly believed -that the “Old Boy” himself was after them. The uproar they made could -be plainly heard at the camp, more than a mile away--shrieks, screams, -yells, and cries for mercy. After it was all over, and Joe Maxwell had -crept quietly to bed, the thought came to him that it was not such a -fine joke, after all, and he lay awake a long time repenting the night's -work. He heard the next day that nobody had been hurt and that no -serious damage had been done, but it was many weeks before he forgave -himself for his thoughtless prank. - -Although Joe was fond of fun, and had a great desire to be a clown in a -circus or to be the driver of a stage-coach--just such a red and yellow -coach, with “U. S. M.” painted on its doors, as used to carry passengers -and the mails between Hillsborough and Rockville--he never permitted -his mind to dwell on these things. He knew very well that the time would -soon come when he would have to support his mother and himself. This -thought used to come to him again and again when he was sitting in the -little post-office, reading the Milledgeville papers. - -It so happened that these papers grew very interesting to both old and -young as the days went by. The rumors of war had developed into war -itself. In the course of a few months two companies of volunteers had -gone to Virginia from Hillsborough, and the little town seemed to be -lonelier and more deserted than ever. Joe Maxwell noticed, as he sat in -the post-office, that only a very few old men and ladies came after the -letters and papers, and he missed a great many faces that used to -smile at him as he sat reading, and some of them he never saw again. He -noticed, too, that when there had been a battle or a skirmish the ladies -and young girls came to the post-office more frequently. When the news -was very important, one of the best-known citizens would mount a chair -or a dry-goods box and read the telegrams aloud to the waiting and -anxious group of people, and sometimes the hands and the voice of the -reader trembled. - -One day while Joe Maxwell was sitting in the post-office looking -over the Milledgeville papers, his eye fell on an advertisement that -interested him greatly. It seemed to bring the whole world nearer to -him. The advertisement set forth the fact that on next Tuesday the first -number of _The Countryman_, a weekly paper would be published. It -would be modeled after Mr. Addison's little paper, the _Spectator_, Mr. -Goldsmith's little paper, the _Bee_, and Mr. Johnson's little paper, the -_Rambler_. It would be edited by J. A. Turner, and it would be issued -on the plantation of the editor, nine miles from Hillsborough. Joe read -this advertisement over a dozen times, and it was with a great deal of -impatience that he waited for the next Tuesday to come. - -But the day did come, and with it came the first issue of _The -Countryman_. Joe read it from beginning to end, advertisements and all, -and he thought it was the most entertaining little paper he had ever -seen. Among the interesting things was an announcement by the editor -that he wanted a boy to learn the printing business. Joe borrowed pen -and ink and some paper from the friendly postmaster, and wrote a letter -to the editor, saying that he would be glad to learn the printing -business. The letter was no doubt an awkward one, but it served its -purpose, for when the editor of _The Countryman_ came to Hillsborough -he hunted Joe up, and told him to get ready to go to the plantation. The -lad, not without some misgivings, put away his tops and marbles, packed -his little belongings in an old-fashioned trunk, kissed his mother and -his grandmother good-by, and set forth on what, turned out to be the -most important journey of his life. - -Sitting in the buggy by the side of the editor and publisher of _The -Countryman_, Joe Maxwell felt lonely indeed, and this feeling was -increased as he went through the little town and heard his schoolmates, -who were at their marbles on the public square, bidding him good-by. - -He could hardly keep back his tears at this, but, on looking around -after the buggy had gone a little way, he saw his friends had returned -to their marbles, and the thought struck him that he was already -forgotten. Many and many a time after that he thought of his little -companions and how quickly they had returned to their marbles. - -The editor of _The Countryman_ must have divined what was passing in -the lad's mind (he was a quick-witted man and a clever one, too), for he -tried to engage in conversation with Joe. But the boy preferred to nurse -his loneliness, and would only talk when he was compelled to answer a -question. Finally, the editor asked him if he would drive, and this Joe -was glad enough to do, for there is some diversion in holding the reins -over a spirited horse. The editor's horse was a large gray, named Ben -Bolt, and he was finer than any of the horses that Joe had seen at the -livery-stable. Feeling a new and an unaccustomed touch on the reins, Ben -Bolt made an effort to give a new meaning to his name by bolting sure -enough. The road was level and hard, and the horse ran rapidly for a -little distance; but Joe Maxwell's arms were tough, and before the horse -had gone a quarter of a mile the lad had him completely under control. - -“You did that very well,” said the editor, who was familiar with Ben -Bolt's tricks. “I didn't know that little boys in town could drive -horses.” - -“Oh, sometimes they can,” replied Joe. “If he had been scared, I think -I should have been scared myself; but he was only playing. He has been -tied at the rack all day, and he must be hungry.” - -“Yes,” said the editor, “he is hungry, and he wants to see his mate, Rob -Roy.” - -Then the editor, in a fanciful way, went on to talk about Ben Bolt and -Rob Roy, as if they were persons instead of horses; but it did not seem -fanciful to Joe, who had a strange sympathy with animals of all kinds, -especially horses and dogs. It pleased him greatly to think that he had -ideas in common with a grown man, who knew how to write for the papers; -and if the editor was talking to make Joe forget his loneliness he -succeeded admirably, for the lad thought no more of the boys who had so -quickly returned to their marbles, but only of his mother, whom he had -last seen standing at the little gate smiling at him through her tears. - -As they drove along the editor pointed out a little log-cabin near the -road. - -“That,” said he, “is where the high sheriff of the county lives. Do you -know Colonel John B. Stith?” - -“Yes,” Joe replied; “but I thought he lived in a large, fine house. I -don't see how he can get in at that door yonder.” - -“What makes you think he is too big for the door?” asked the editor. - -“Why, the way he goes on,” said Joe, with the bluntness of youth. “He is -always in town talking politics, and he talks bigger than anybody.” - -[Illustration: 0038] - -“Well,” said the editor, laughing, “that is his house. When you get a -little older you'll find people who are more disappointing than the high -sheriff. Boys are sometimes too big for their breeches, I've heard said, -but this is the first time I ever heard that a man could be too big for -his house. That is a good one on the colonel.” - -Ben Bolt trotted along steadily and rapidly, but after a while dusk -fell, and then the stars came out. Joe peered ahead, trying to make out -the road. - -“Just let the horse have his way,” said the editor. “He knows the road -better than I do”; and it seemed to be so, for, when heavy clouds from -the west came up and hid the stars, and only the darkness was visible, -Ben Bolt trotted along as steadily as ever. He splashed through Crooked -Creek, walked up the long hill, and then started forward more rapidly -than ever. - -“It is a level road, now,” the editor remarked, “and Ben Bolt is on the -home-stretch.” - -In a little while he stopped before a large gate. It was opened in a -jiffy by some one who seemed to be waiting. - -“Is that you, Harbert?” asked the editor. - -“Yes, marster.” - -“Well, I want you to take Mr. Maxwell here to Mr. Snelson's.” - -“Yasser,” responded the negro. - -“Snelson is the foreman of the printing-office,” the editor explained to -Joe, “and for the present you are to board with him. I hope he will make -things pleasant for you. Goodnight.” - -To the lonely lad it seemed a long journey to Mr. Sneison's--through -wide plantation gates, down narrow lanes, along a bit of public road, -and then a plunge into the depths of a great wood, where presently a -light gleamed through. - -“I'll hail 'em,” said Harbert, and he sent before him into the darkness -a musical halloo, whereupon, as promptly as its echo, came a hearty -response from the house, with just the faintest touch of the Irish -brogue in the voice. - -“Ah, and it's the young man! Jump right down and come in to the warmth -of the fire. There's something hot on the hearth, where it's waiting -you.” - -And so Joe Maxwell entered on a new life--a life as different as -possible from that which he had left behind in Hillsborough. - - - - -CHAPTER II--A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER - - -The printing-office was a greater revelation to Joe Maxwell than it -would be to any of the youngsters who may happen to read this. It was -a very small affair; the type was old and worn, and the hand-press--a -Washington No. 2--had seen considerable service. But it was all new to -Joe, and the fact that he was to become a part of the machinery aroused -in his mind the most delightful sensation. He quickly mastered the boxes -of the printer's case, and before many days was able to set type swiftly -enough to be of considerable help to Mr. Snel-son, who was foreman, -compositor, and pressman. - -The one queer feature about _The Countryman_ was the fact that it was -the only plantation newspaper that has ever been published, the nearest -post-office being nine miles away. It might be supposed that such a -newspaper would be a failure; but _The Countryman_ was a success from -the start, and at one time it reached a circulation of nearly two -thousand copies. The editor was a very original writer, and his -editorials in _The Countryman_ were quoted in all the papers in -the Confederacy, but he was happiest when engaged in a political -controversy. Another feature of _The Countryman_ was the fact that there -was never any lack of copy for the foreman and the apprentice to set. -Instead of clipping from his exchanges, the editor sent to the office -three books, from which extracts could be selected. These books were -_Lacon_, Percy's _Anecdotes_, and Rochefoucauld's _Maxims_. Then -there were weekly letters from the army in Virginia and voluntary -contributions from many ambitious writers. Some of the war -correspondence was very gloomy, for as the months wore on it told of the -death of a great many young men whom Joe had known, and the most of them -had been very kind to him. - -The days in the printing-office would have been very lonely for Joe, but -the grove that surrounded it was full of gray squirrels. These had been -so long undisturbed that they were comparatively tame. They were in -the habit of running about over the roof of the office and playing at -hide-and-seek like little children. To the roof, too, the blue-jays -would bring their acorns and hammer at the hard shells in the noisiest -way, and once a red fox made bold to venture near Joe's window, where -he stood listening and sniffing the air until some noise caused him to -vanish like a flash. Most interesting of all, a partridge and her mate -built their nest within a few feet of the window, and it often happened -that Joe neglected his work in watching the birds. They bent the long -grass over from each side carefully until they had formed a little -tunnel three or four feet long. When this was done, Mrs. Partridge made -her way to the end of it and began to scratch and flutter just as a hen -does when taking a dust-bath. She was hollowing out her nest. By the -time the nest was completed the archway of grass that had hid it was -considerably disarranged. Then Mrs. Partridge sat quietly on the little -hollow she had made, while Mr. Partridge rebuilt the archway over her -until she was completely concealed. He was very careful about this. -Frequently he would walk off a little way and turn and look at the nest. -If his sharp eyes could see anything suspicious, he would return -and weave the grass more closely together. Finally, he seemed to be -satisfied with his work. He shook his wings and began to preen himself, -and then Mrs. Partridge came out and joined him. They consulted together -with queer little duckings, and finally ran off into the undergrowth as -if bent on a frolic. - -The work of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge was so well done that Joe found it -very difficult to discover the nest when he went out of the office. He -knew where it was from his window, but when he came to look for it out -of doors it seemed to have disappeared, so deftly was it concealed; and -he would have been compelled to hunt for it very carefully but for the -fact that when Mrs. Partridge found herself disturbed she rushed from -the little grass tunnel and threw herself at Joe's feet, fluttering -around as if desperately wounded, and uttering strange little cries of -distress. Once she actually touched his feet with her wings, but when he -stooped to pick her up she managed to flutter off just out of reach -of his hand. Joe followed along after Mrs. Partridge for some little -distance, and he discovered that the farther she led him away from her -nest the more her condition improved, until finally she ran off into the -sedge and disappeared. Joe has never been able to find any one to tell -him how Mrs. Partridge knew what kind of antics a badly wounded bird -would cut up. He has been told that it is the result of instinct. The -scientists say, however, that instinct is the outgrowth of necessity; -but it seems hard to believe that necessity could have given Mrs. -Partridge such accurate knowledge of the movements of a wounded bird. - -In carrying proofs from the printing-office to the editor, Joe Maxwell -made two discoveries that he considered very important. One was that -there was a big library of the best books at his command, and the other -was that there was a pack of well-trained harriers on the plantation. -He loved books and he loved dogs, and if he had been asked to choose -between the library and the harriers he would have hesitated a long -time. The books were more numerous--there were nearly two thousand of -them, while there were only five harriers--but in a good many respects -the dogs were the liveliest. Fortunately, Joe was not called on to make -any choice. He had the dogs to himself in the late afternoon and the -books at night, and he made the most of both. More than this, he had -the benefit of the culture of the editor of _The Countryman_ and of the -worldly experience of Mr. Snelson, the printer. - -To Joe Maxwell, sadly lacking in knowledge of mankind, Mr. Snelson -seemed to be the most engaging of men. He was the echo and mouthpiece of -a world the youngster had heard of but never seen, and it pleased him -to hear the genial printer rehearse his experiences, ranging all the way -from Belfast, Ireland, where he was born, to all the nooks and corners -of the United States, including the little settlement where the -plantation newspaper was published. Mr. Snelson had been a tramp and -almost a tragedian, and he was pleased on many occasions to give his -little apprentice a taste of his dramatic art. He would stuff a pillow -under his coat and give readings from Richard III, or wrap his wife's -mantilla about him and play Hamlet. - -[Illustration: 0047] - -When tired of the stage he would clear his throat and render some of the -old ballads, which he sang very sweetly indeed. - -One night, after the little domestic concert was over and Joe was -reading a book by the light of the pine-knot fire, a great fuss was -heard in the hen-house, which was some distance from the dwelling. - -“Run, John,” exclaimed Mrs. Snelson; “I just know somebody is stealing -my dominicker hen and her chickens. Run!” - -“Let the lad go,” said Mr. Snelson, amiably. “He's young and nimble, -and whoever's there he'll catch 'em.--Run, lad! and if ye need help, lift -your voice and I'll be wit' ye directly.” - -The dwelling occupied by Mr. Snelson was in the middle of a thick wood, -and at night, when there was no moon, it was very dark out of doors; but -Joe Maxwell was not afraid of the dark. He leaped from the door and -had reached the hen-house before the chickens ceased cackling and -fluttering. It was too dark to see anything, but Joe, in groping his way -around, laid his hand on Somebody. - -His sensations would be hard to describe. His heart seemed to jump into -his mouth, and he felt a thrill run over him from head to foot. It was -not fear, for he did not turn and flee. He placed his hand again on the -Somebody and asked: - -“Who are you?” - -Whatever it was trembled most violently and the reply came in a weak, -shaking voice and in the shape of another question: - -“Is dis de little marster what come fum town ter work in de paper -office?” - -“Yes; who are you, and what are you doing here?” - -“I'm name Mink, suh, an' I b'longs to Marse Tom Gaither. I bin run'd -away an' I got dat hongry dat it look like I bleedz ter ketch me a -chicken. I bin mighty nigh famished, suh. I wish you'd please, suh, -excusen me dis time.” - -“Why didn't you break and run when you heard me coming?” asked Joe, who -was disposed to take a practical view of the matter. - -“You wuz dat light-footed, suh, dat I ain't hear you, an' sides dat, I -got my han' kotch in dish yer crack, an' you wuz right on top er me 'fo' -I kin work it out.” - -“Why don't you stay at home?” asked Joe. - -“Dey don't treat me right, suh,” said the negro, simply. The very tone -of his voice was more convincing than any argument could have been. - -“Can you get your hand out of the crack?” asked Joe. - -“Lord, yes, suh; I'd'a done got it out fo' now, but when you lipt on me -so quick all my senses wuz skeered out'n me.” - -“Well,” said Joe, “get your hand out and stay here till I come back, and -I'll fetch you something to eat.” - -“You ain't foolin' me, is you, little marster?” - -“Do I look like I'd fool you?” said Joe, scornfully. - -“I can't see you plain, suh,” said the negro, drawing a long breath, -“but you don't talk like it.” - -“Well, get your hand loose and wait.” - -As Joe turned to go to the house, he saw Mr. Snelson standing in the -door. - -“It's all right, sir,” the youngster said. “None of the chickens are -gone.” - -“A great deal of fuss and no feathers,” said Mr. Snelson. “I doubt but -it was a mink.” - -“Yes,” said Joe, laughing. “It must have been a Mink, and I'm going to -set a bait for him.” - -“In all this dark?” asked the printer. “Why, I could stand in the door -and crush it wit' me teeth.” - -“Why, yes,” replied Joe. “I'll take some biscuit and a piece of corn -bread, and scatter them around the hen-house, and if the mink comes back -he'll get the bread and leave the chickens alone.” - -“Capital!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, slapping Joe on the back. “I says to -mother here, says I, 'As sure as you're born to die, old woman, that -B'y has got the stuff in 'im that they make men out of.' I said them very -words. Now didn't I, mother?” - -Joe got three biscuits and a pone of cornbread and carried them to Mink. -The negro had freed his hand, and he loomed up in the darkness as tall -as a giant. - -“Why, you seem to be as big as a horse,” said Joe. - -“Thanky, little marster, thanky. Yes, suh, I'm a mighty stout nigger, -an' ef marster would des make dat overseer lemme 'lone I'd do some -mighty good work, an' I'd a heap druther do it dan ter be hidin' out in -de swamp dis away like some wil' varmint. Good-night, little marster.” - -[Illustration: 0052] - -“Good-night!” said Joe. - -“God bless you, little marster!” cried Mink, as he vanished in the -darkness. - -That night in Joe Maxwell's dreams the voice of the fugitive came back -to him, crying, “God bless you, little marster!” - -But it was not in dreams alone that Mink came back to Joe. In more than -one way the negro played an important part in the lad's life on the -plantation. One evening about dusk, as Joe was going home, taking a -“near cut” through the Bermuda pasture, a tall form loomed up before -him, outlining itself against the sky. - -“Howdy, little marster! 'Tain't nobody but Mink. I des come ter tell you -dat ef you want anything out'n de woods des sen' me word by Harbert. I -got some pa'tridge-eggs here now. Deyer tied up in a rag, but dat don't -hurt um. Ef you'll des spread out yo' hank'cher I'll put um in it.” - -“Haven't you gone home yet?” asked Joe, as he held out his handkerchief. - -“Lord, no, suh!” exclaimed the negro. “De boys say dat de overseer say -he waitin' fer Mink wid a club.” - -There were four dozen of these eggs, and Joe and Mr. Snelson enjoyed -them hugely. - -From that time forward, in one way and another, Joe Maxwell kept in -communication with Mink. The lad was not too young to observe that the -negroes on the plantation treated him with more consideration than they -showed to other white people with the exception of their master. There -was nothing they were not ready to do for him at any time of day or -night. The secret of it was explained by Har-bert, the man-of-all-work -around the “big house.” - -“Marse Joe,” said Harbert one day, “I wuz gwine'long de road de udder -night an' I met a great big nigger man. Dish yer nigger man took an' -stop me, he did, an' he'low, 'Dey's a little white boy on y o' place -which I want you fer ter keep yo' two eyes on 'im, an' when he say come, -you come, an' when he say go, you go.' I'low, ''hey, big nigger man! -what de matter?' an' he 'spon' back, 'I done tole you, an' I ain't -gwine tell you no mo'. So dar you got it, Marse Joe, an' dat de way it -stan's.” - -And so it happened that, humble as these negroes were, they had it in -their power to smooth many a rough place in Joe Maxwell's life. The -negro women looked after him with almost motherly care, and pursued -him with kindness, while the men were always ready to contribute to his -pleasure. - - - - -CHAPTER III--TRACKING A RUNAWAY - - -One Sunday morning, not long after Joe's adventure with Mink, Harbert -came to him with a serious face. - -“Marse Joe,” he said, “dey er gwine ter ketch Mink dis time.” - -“How do you know?” - -“Kaze, soon dis mornin' whiles I wuz a-feed-in' de hogs, I seed one er -dem Gaither boys cornin' down de road under whip an' spur, an' I ax 'im -wharbouts he gwine, an' he say he gwine atter Bill Locke an' his nigger -dogs. He 'low dat he know whar Mink bin las' Friday night, an' dey gwine -ter put de dogs on his track an' ketch 'im. Dey'll be'long back dis a way -terreckly.” - -The lad had witnessed many a fox-chase and had hunted rabbits hundreds -of times, not only with the plantation harriers but with hounds; but he -had never seen a runaway negro hunted down, and he had a boy's curiosity -in the matter, as well as a personal interest in the fate of Mink. So he -mounted his horse and waited for Mr. Locke and young Gaither to return. -He knew Bill Locke well, having seen him often in Hillsborough. Mr. -Locke had been an overseer, but he saved money, bought two or three -negroes, and had a little farm of his own. He had a great reputation as -a negro-hunter, mainly because the hunting of runaways was a part of -his business. His two dogs, Music and Sound, were known all over the -country, and they were the terror of the negroes, not because they were -fierce or dangerous, but because of their sagacity. Sound was a small -brown hound, not larger than a beagle, but he had such powers of scent -that the negroes regarded him with superstitious awe. He had what is -called a “cold nose,” which is a short way of saying that he -could follow a scent thirty-six hours old, and yet he was a very -shabby-looking dog. - -When Locke and young Gaither rode by they were joined by Joe Maxwell, -and his company seemed to be very welcome, especially to the Gaither -boy, who regarded the affair as a frolic. Mr. Locke was a man of very -few words. His face was dark and sallow and his eyes sunken. His -neck was long and thin, and Joe observed that his “Adam's apple” was -unusually large. As the negroes said, Mr. Locke and his dogs “favored” - each other. He was small and puny, and his dogs were small and scrawny. - -“Do you think you'll catch Mink?” asked Joe. Mr Locke looked at the lad -almost pityingly, and smiled. - -“We'll git the nigger,” he replied, “if he's been seed sence Friday -noon. We'll git him if he ain't took wings. All I ast of him is to stay -somewheres on top of the ground, and he's mine.” - -“Why did the negro run away?” said Joe to young Gaither. - -“Oh, he can't get along with the overseer. And I don't blame him much. -I told pap this morning that if I had to choose between Mink and Bill -Davidson I'd take Mink every time. But the trouble with pap is he's -getting old, and thinks he can't get along without an overseer, and -overseers are mighty hard to get now. I tell you right now that when I -get grown I'm not going to let any overseer bang my niggers around.” - -Mr. Locke said nothing, but Joe heartily indorsed young Gaither's -sentiments. - -When they arrived at the Gaither place, Mr. Locke asked to be shown the -house that Mink had occupied. Then he asked for the blankets on which -the negro had slept. These could not be found. Well, an old coat would -do--anything that the negro had worn or touched. Finally, a dirty, -greasy bag, in which Mink had carried his dinner to the field, was -found. This would do, Mr. Locke said, and, taking it in his hand, he -called his dogs and held it toward them. Sound smelled it more carefully -than Music. - -“Now, then,” said Mr. Locke, “where'bouts was he seed? At the hog-pen -last Friday night? All right, we'll ride around there and kinder send -him a message.” - -Joe was very much interested in all this, and he watched Mr. Locke -and his dogs very closely. When they arrived at the hog-pen, the negro -hunter dismounted and examined the ground. Then he spoke to his dogs. - -“Sound!” he exclaimed, sharply, “what are you doing? Look about.--Music! -what are you here for?” - -The shabby little dog seemed to be suddenly transformed. He circled -around the hogpen rapidly, getting farther and farther away each time. -Mr. Locke never took his eyes from the dog. - -“It's cold--mighty cold,” he said, presently. Then he spoke to the dog -again. “Sound! come here, sir! Now git down to your knitting! Come, -knuckle down! Try 'em, old fellow! try 'em!” - -Thus encouraged, the dog, with his nose to the ground, went carefully -around the hog-pen. At one spot he paused, went on, and then came back -to it. This performance he repeated several times, and then began to -work his way toward an old field, going very slowly and carefully. - -“Well, sir,” said Mr. Locke, heaving a sigh of relief, “I thought it was -a gone case, but the nigger's been here, and we've got him.” - -“May be the dog is trailing somebody else,” Joe Maxwell suggested. - -Mr. Locke laughed softly and pityingly. “Why, I tell you what, buddy,” - he exclaimed, “if all the niggers in the country had tramped around here -that dog wouldn't track none of 'em but the special nigger we're after. -Look at that puppy, how he's working!” - -And truly it was an interesting if not a beautiful sight to see the -dog untangling the tangle of scent. More than once he seemed to be -dissatisfied with himself and made little excursions in search of a -fresher clew, but he always returned to the point where he had left off, -taking up the faint thread of scent and carrying it farther away from -the hog-pen. The patience and industry of the dog were marvelous. Mr. -Locke himself was patient. He encouraged the hound with his voice, but -made no effort to urge him on. - -“It's colder than a gravestone,” said Mr. Locke, finally. “It's been a -long time sence that nigger stepped around here. And the ground's -high and dry. If we can work the trail to the branch yonder, he's our -meat.--Try for 'im, Sound! Try for 'im.” - -Gradually the dog worked out the problem of the trail. Across the hill -he went, with many turnings and twistings, until finally he struck -into the path that led from the negro quarters to the spring where the -washing was done. Down this path the hound ran without deigning to put -his nose to the ground. At the branch he lapped his fill of water, and -then took up his problem again. A half-dozen wash-pots were scattered -around, and under the largest a fire was smoldering. On a bench, side -by side, three tubs were sitting, and it was at this bench that Sound -picked up the trail again. Evidently Mink had paused to chat with the -woman who was washing. The ground was moist, and the dog had little -trouble. As he recovered the trail he expressed his gratification by -a little whimper. The trail led down the spring branch and into a -plantation road, then over a fence and across a “new ground” until it -struck a bypath that led to an arbor near a church, where the negroes -had been holding a revival meeting. At this point there was another -problem for the dog. A hundred or two negroes had been gathered here, -and it was evident that Mink had been one of the crowd, mingling with -the others and walking about with them. - -Young Gaither called Mr. Locke's attention to this. “You'll never get -the trail away from here in the world,” said he. “Why don't you take the -dog and circle round with him?” - -“That dog,” said Mr. Locke, watching the hound anxiously, “has got -notions of his own, and he's bound to carry 'em out. He won't be fooled -with. Don't say nothing. Just stand off and watch him. He's been in -worse places than this here.” - -But it was a tedious task the dog had before him. Winding in and out in -the mazes of an invisible labyrinth, turning and twisting, now slowly, -now more rapidly, he pursued with unerring nose the footsteps of the -runaway, and when he had followed the trail away from the church he -was going at a brisk pace, and his whimper had changed to an occasional -yelp. Mr. Locke, who up to this time had been leading his horse, now -took off his coat, folded it carefully, and laid it on his saddle. Then -he remounted his horse, and with Gaither and Joe Maxwell trotted along -after his dog. - -Mink must have lingered on the way, for a quarter of a mile farther on -Music joined Sound in his work, and the two dogs footed it along right -merrily, their mellow voices rousing a hundred echoes among the old red -hills. - -A mile farther the dogs paused at a tree where there were traces of -fire. Scattered around were scraps of sweet-potato peelings and bread. - -“Here is where the gentleman roosted last night,” said Mr. Locke; and -it must have been true, for Sound, with his head in the air, made a half -circle, picked up a warmer trail, and the two dogs were off like the -wind. Joe Maxwell became very much interested. The horse he was riding -was swift and game, and he drew away from the others easily. Neither -ditches nor gullies were in his way, and in the excitement a six-rail -fence seemed to be no obstacle. Mr. Locke shouted something at Joe, -probably some word of warning, but the meaning failed to reach the lad's -ears. Butterfly fought for his head and got it, and in the twinkling of -an eye carried his rider out of hearing of his companions. - -The dogs had swerved a little to the left, and were making straight for -the river--the Oconee. Butterfly ran into a plantation road and would -have crossed it, but Joe held him to it, and soon discovered that he was -gaining on the dogs. From slightly different directions the hounds and -the horse seemed to be making for the same point--and this point, as -it turned out, was the plantation ferry, where a bateau was kept. Joe -Maxwell reached the top of the hill overlooking the river just as the -dogs reached the ferry. Here he drew rein and looked about him. The -hounds ran about on the river-bank barking and howling. Sound went -into the water, but, finding that he was drifting down instead of going -across, he made his way out and shook himself, but still continued to -bark. A quarter of a mile away there was a great bend in the river. Far -down this bend Joe could see a bateau drifting. As he watched it the -thought struck him that it did not sit as lightly in the water as an -empty boat should. “Suppose,” he asked himself, with a laugh--“suppose -Mink is in the bottom of that bateau?” - -He dismissed the thought as Mr. Locke and young Gaither came up. - -“That's a thundering slick hoss you're riding,” said Mr. Locke. “He'd do -fine work in a fox-hunt. Where's the nigger?” - -“The dogs can tell you more about it than I can,” said Joe. - -“Well,” remarked Mr. Locke, with a sigh, - -“I know'd I'd miss him if he ever got to the ferry here and found the -boat on this side. Why, dang his black skin!” exclaimed the negro-hunter -vehemently, as he glanced down the river and saw the bateau floating -away in the distance, “he's gone and turned the boat loose! That shows -we was a-pushin' 'im mighty close. I reckon you could a' seed 'im if -you'd looked clos't when you first come up.” - -“No,” replied Joe; “he was out of sight, and the boat was drifting -around the elbow. You were not more than five minutes behind me.” - -“Bless your soul, buddy,” exclaimed Mr. Locke, “five minutes is a mighty -long time when you are trying to ketch a runaway.” - -So ended the race after Mink. To Joe Maxwell it was both interesting and -instructive. He was a great lover of dogs, and the wonderful performance -of Sound had given him new ideas of their sagacity. - -A few mornings after the unsuccessful attempt to catch Mink, a very -queer thing happened. Harbert was sweeping out the printing-office, -picking up the type that had been dropped on the floor, and Joe was -preparing to begin the day's work. Suddenly Harbert spoke: - -“Marse Joe,” said he, “when you rid out ter de river Sunday, is you -happen ter see er bateau floatin' 'roun'?” - -Joe looked at Harbert for some explanation of the singular question, but -the negro pretended to be very busily engaged in picking up scraps of -paper. - -“Yes,” said Joe, after a pause, “I saw a boat drifting down the river. -What about it?” - -“Well, suh, I speck ef de trufe waz ter git out, dat dey wuz one er yo' -ole 'quaintance in dat boat, an' I bet a thrip dat ef you'd a-hollered -howdy, dey'd a-hollered howdy back.” - -Harbert was still too busy to look up. - -“Hit de funniest boat what I yever come 'cross,” he went on, “agwine -floatin' long down by itse'f, an' den, on top er dat, come floatin' long -back agin.” - -“How do you know about the bateau?” - -“Whiles you bin gwine'long de road, Marse Joe,” said Harbert, still -making a great pretense of gathering up the trash in the room, “ain't -you never is see all dem little birds flyin' 'mongst de bushes an' 'long -de fence? Well, suh, dem little birds kin tell mo' tales ef you listen -at 'em right close dan all deze yer papers what you bin printin'. Dey er -mighty cu'us, an' dey er mighty cunnin'. Dey tole me lots mo' dan -dat. Dey say dat de young Gaither boy took an' sont word ter Marse Tom -Clemmons dat somebody done gone an' stole de bateau at de ferry, but yit -when Marse Tom go out fer ter look atter his boat dar she is right spang -whar he lef' 'er. Now, how you 'count fer dat?” - -“Then, Mink--” - -“Coon an' 'possum!” interrupted Harbert, as Mr. Snelson appeared in the -doorway. - -“'Possum it is!” exclaimed that genial gentleman. “In season or out of -season, I'll never refuse it.” - -“Well, suh,” said Harbert, “ef de talk gwine ter fall on 'possum, I'm -bleeds ter go, kase when I hear folks talkin' 'bout'possum hit make me -dribble at de mouf.” The negro went off laughing loudly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--SHADOWS OF THE WAR - - -What with the books in the library and the life out of doors in the -afternoons, Joe Maxwell grew very fond of his new home. His work at the -printers' case was not a task, but a pleasure. He grew to be an expert -in type-setting and won unstinted praise from Mr. Snelson. Sometimes he -wrote little paragraphs of his own, crediting them to “The Countryman's -Devil,” and the editor was kind enough to make no objection, and -this fact was very encouraging to the lad, who was naturally shy and -sensitive. - -Only the echoes of the war were heard at the Turner place; but once the -editor returned from Hillsborough with some very sad news for a lady who -lived near _The Countryman_ office with her father, Her husband had been -killed in one of the great battles, and her screams when the editor told -her of it, and the cries of her little daughter, haunted Joe Maxwell for -many a long day. Sometimes he lay awake at night thinking about it, and -out of the darkness it seemed to him that he could build a grim mirage -of war, vanishing and reappearing like an ominous shadow, and devouring -the people. - -The war was horrible enough, distant as it was, but the people who were -left at home--the women and children, the boys, the men who were exempt, -the aged and the infirm--had fears of a fate still more terrible. They -were fears that grew out of the system of slavery, and they grew until -they became a fixed habit of the mind. They were the fears of a negro -insurrection. The whites who were left at home knew that it was in the -power of the negroes to rise and in one night sweep the strength and -substance of the Southern Confederacy from the face of the earth. Some -of the more ignorant whites lived in constant terror. - -Once it was whispered around that the blacks were preparing to rise, -and the fears of the people were so ready to confirm the rumor that the -plantations were placed in a state of siege. The patrol--called by the -negroes “patter-rollers”--was doubled, and for a time the negro quarters -in all parts of the country were visited nightly by the guard. But Joe -Maxwell noticed that the patrol never visited the Turner plantation, and -he learned afterward that they had been warned off. The editor of _The -Countryman_ had the utmost confidence in his negroes, and he would not -allow them to be disturbed at night by the “patter-rollers.” He laughed -at the talk of a negro uprising, and it was a favorite saying of his -that the people who treated their negroes right had nothing to fear from -them. - -[Illustration: 0073] - -As for Joe Maxwell, he had no time to think about such things. He -sometimes rode with the patrol on their fruitless and sometimes foolish -errands, but his curiosity with regard to them was soon satisfied, and -he was better contented when he was spending his evenings at home with -his books, or in listening to the wonderful tales that Mr. Snelson -told for his benefit. In spite of the fact that his work in the little -printing-office was confining, the lad managed to live an outdoor life -for a good part of the time. He had a task to do--so many thousand ems -to set--and then he was through for the day. The thoughtful Mr. Snelson -added to this task from time to time, but Joe always managed to complete -it so as to have the greater part of the afternoon for his own. - -There was a hat-shop on the plantation presided over by Mr. Wall, a -queer old man from North Carolina. With the thrift of youth Joe gave -the amusement of rabbit-hunting a business turn. In the fall and winter, -when the rabbits were in fur, their skins could be sold at the -hat-shop at twenty-five cents a dozen, and the little harriers were so -industrious and so well trained that he sometimes sold as many as three -dozen skins, a week. In addition to the pleasure and the money he got -from the sport, he became very much interested in the hat-shop. - -The hats were made as they had been during the Revolution, and as they -were no doubt made in England before the Revolution. The hair on the -pelts or skins was scraped off with a knife fashioned like a shoemaker's -knife. The fur was then cut away with a steel blade that had no handle. -When there was enough fur to make a hat it was placed on a bench or -counter. Over the counter was suspended a long staff, to which was -fastened a bowstring. If the staff had been bent it would have had the -appearance of a huge bow, but it was straight, and the rawhide string -was allowed a little play. With an instrument not unlike a long spool -the hatter would catch the bowstring, pull it away from the staff, and -allow it to whip against the fur as it sprang back into place. This -whipping was carried on very rapidly, and was kept up until every tuft -of fur was broken apart. Then the fur was whipped gently into what was -called a bat, shaped somewhat like a section of orange peel. The hatter -then spread a cambric cloth carefully over it, pressed it down a little, -seized the cloth in the middle between thumb and forefinger, gave it a -flirt in the air and lifted fur and all. To Joe Maxwell it seemed like a -trick of magic. - -The cloth, with the bat of fur lying smoothly and neatly in its fold, -was then placed on a heating box, and kneaded rapidly but gently. -When it seemed to be getting too hot it was sprinkled with water. This -kneading was kept up until the fur shrunk together. When taken from the -cloth it was in the shape of the hats the clowns used to wear in the -circus, and it was called a bonnet. The bonnet was then dipped in -boiling water and pressed and kneaded with an instrument shaped like a -rolling-pin, but smaller. The workers in this department were compelled -to protect their hands from the boiling water by means of leather -fastened to the palms of their hands. The more the bonnets were rolled -and kneaded, the more they shrunk, until finally they were ready to be -placed on the blocks that gave them the hat shape. They were fitted to -these blocks, which were of various sizes, and thrown into a caldron of -boiling water, where they were allowed to stay until they would shrink -no more. - -When hats became scarce after the breaking out of the war, the editor -bought Mr. Wall's interest in the hat-shop, and made him foreman. -Several negroes were placed under him, and they soon became experts -in hat-making. There was a great demand for the hats from all over -the South, and on one occasion Joe Maxwell sold a dozen wool hats for -$500--in Confederate money. - -But the most interesting thing about the shop, as Joe thought, was the -head hatter, Miles Wall, who was the quaintest old man that Joe had ever -seen. He was illiterate--he didn't know a letter in the book--and yet he -was not ignorant. The Bible had been read to him until he was grounded -in its texts and teachings, and he was always ready for an argument on -politics or religion. - -[Illustration: 0076] - -“Whenever you hear anybody a-axing anything,” he used to say, “'bout how -I'm a-gettin' on, an' how my family is, un' whether er no my health is -well, you thess up an' tell um that I'm a nachul Baptis'. You thess up -an' tell um that, an' I'll be mighty much erbleege to you. Tell um I'm a -born'd Baptis'.” - -Although Mr. Wall was unable to read or write, Joe Maxwell found him to -be a very interesting talker. Perhaps it was his ignorance of books -that made him interesting. He was more superstitious than any of the -negroes--a great believer in signs and omens. One night when Joe went to -visit him, the old man told a story that made a very deep impression on -the lad. There was nothing in the story, but Mr. Wall identified himself -with it, and told it in a way that made it seem real, and it was a long -time before Joe could divest himself of the idea that the story was not -true. Wherever Mr. Wall got it, whether he dreamed it or heard it, there -is no doubt that he really believed it. - - - - -CHAPTER V--MR. WALL'S STORY - - -This is the way he told it, by the light of a pine-knot fire that threw -a wavering and an uncertain light over the little room: - -“I'm monst'us sorry. Daught ain't here,” he began, “'cause she know'd -the folks thess ez well ez I did; she's been thar at the house an' seed -um. It thess come inter my min' whilst we been a-settin' here talkin' -'bout ghostses an' the like er that. Daught's over yander settin' up wi' -Mis Clemmons, an' I wisht she wuz here. She know'd 'em all. - -“Well, sir, it wuz in North Ca'liny, right nex' ter the Ferginny -line, whar we all cum frum. They wuz a fammerly thar by the name er -Chambliss--Tom Chambliss an' his wife--an' they had a boy name John, in -about ez peart a chap ez you ever set your eyes on. Arter awhile, Miss -Chambliss, she took sick an' died. Tom, he moped aroun' right -smartually, but 'twan't long fo' he whirled in an' married agin. He went -away off some'rs for to get his wife, the Lord knows whar, an' she wuz a -honey! She fussed so much an' went on so that Tom, he took ter drink, -an' he went from dram ter dram tell he wern't no manner account. Then -she took arter John, the boy, an' she thess made that child's life -miserbul a-doggin' arter him all day long an' half the night. - -“One Sunday she fixed up an' went ter church, arter tellin' Johnny for -to stay at home an' keep the chickens outn' the sallid-patch. She locked -the door of the house before she went off an' took the key wi' 'er. It -wuz right down coolish, but the sun wuz a-shinin' an' Johnny didn't min' -the cold. Ther' wuz a big white oak-tree in the yard, an' he clum' up -that an' crope out on a lim' an' got on top er the house, an' sot up -thar a straddle er the comb. He wuz a feeling mighty lonesome, an' he -didn't know what ter do wi' hisse'f skacely. - -“I dunno how long he sot thar, but presently a great big acorn dropped -on the roof--_ker-bang!_ It wuz sech a big one an' it fell so hard that -it made Johnny jump. It fell on the roof 'bout half-way betwixt the comb -an' the eaves, an' when Johnny looked aroun' for to see what made the -fuss he seed the acorn a-rollin' up to'rds whar he wuz a-settin'. Yes, -sir! stedder rollin' down the roof an' failin' off on the groun', the -acorn come a-rollin' up the shingles thess like it wuz down grade. -Johnny grabbed it ez it come. He picked it up an' looked at it good, an' -then turned it roun' an' 'roun' for to see what kinder consarn it wuz -that rolled up hill stedder rollin' down hill. While he wuz a turnin' -the acorn aroun' he spied a worm hole in it, an' he was thess about -ter break it open when he heard somebody callin'. It sounded like his -stepmammy wuz a-callin' 'im from a way off yander, an' he answered -back 'Ma'am!' thess ez loud as ever he could, an' then he sot still an' -listened. Bimeby he heard the callin' again, an' he answered back: -'Who is you, an' whar is you?' It seemed like then that he could hear -somebody laughin' at 'im some'rs. These here sounds sorter put 'im out, -an' he took an' shot the acorn down the roof like it wuz a marvel. Yit, -before it could fall off, it seemed ter kinder ketch itself, an' then it -come a-rollin' back to Johnny. - -“This sorter made Johnny feel kinder creepy. He know'd mighty well that -he didn't have no loadstone in his pocket, an' he couldn't make no head -ner tail to sech gwine's on. He picked up the acorn an' looked at it -closeter than ever, an' turned it 'roun' an' 'roun' in his hand, an' -helt it right up to his eye. Whilst he was a-holdin' it up that a-way -he heard a little bit er voice ez fine ez a cambric needle, an' it seem -like it wuz a-singin': - - “Ningapie, Ningapie! - - Why do you hol' me at your eye? - - Ningapie, Ningapee! - - Don't you know that you can't see? - - Ningapie, Ningapeer! - - Why don't you hol' me to your ear? - -[Illustration: 0082] - -“Johnny didn't know whether to laugh er cry, but he helt the acorn to -his ear, an' he heard sumpin' er other on the inside holler out: - -“'Why don't you hold my house so I can talk out'n my window?' - -“'I don't see no window,' says Johnny, sorter shakin' a little, bekase -the Watchermacollum talked like it was mad. 'Is thish here worm-hole -your window?' - -“'Tooby shore it is,' say the Whatshisname, 'it's my window an' my front -door, an' my peazzer.' - -“'Why, it ain't bigger than the pint of a pin,' says Johnny. - -“'But ef it wuzn't big enough,' say the--er--Watchermacollum, 'I'd make -it bigger.' - -“'What is your name?' says Johnny. - -“'Ningapie.' - -“'It's a mighty funny name,' says Johnny. 'Where did you come from?' - -“'Chuckalucker town.' - -“'That's in the song,' says Johnny. - -“'Me, too,” says Ningapie. 'It's in the song. Ain't you never heard it?' - - “Ningapie! Ningapan! - - He up an' killed the Booger Man! - - Ningapie, Ningapitch! - - 'He's the one to kill a witch.' - -“Johnny wuz so took up wi' the talkin' an' the singin' of the little -feller in the acorn that he didn't hear his stepmammy when she come, -an' when he did hear her he wuz that skeered that he shook like a -poplar-leaf. - -“'Watch out!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Watch out! Be right -still. Don't move. I want to show you sumpin'.' - -“'She'll skin me alive,' says Johnny. - -“'Thess wait,' says the little chap. 'If she calls you, keep right -still.' - -“Mis. Chambliss onlocked the door an' went in the house, an' slammed -things down like she wuz mad. She flung the tongs down on the h'ath, -slung the shovel in a corner, an' sot a cheer back like she wuz tryin' -for to drive it thoo the wall. Then she began to jaw. - -“'I'll get 'im! Me a-tellin' 'im to stay an' min' the sallid-patch, an' -he a-runnin' off! Won't I make 'im pay for it?' - -“'That's me,' says Johnny, an' he talked like he wuz mighty nigh ready -to cry. - -“'Thess wait!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Keep right still!' - -“Bimeby Mis. Chambliss come out'n the house an' looked all aroun'. Then -she called Johnny. She had a voice like a dinner-horn, an' you moughter -heard her a mile or more. Johnny he shook an' shivered, but he stayed -still. His stepmammy called an' called, an' looked ever'whar for Johnny -exceptin' in the right place. Then she went back in the house an' -presently she come out. She had a little spade in one hand an' a little -box in t' other. - -“'Watch her!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Keep your eye on her!' - -“She went down in the gyarden an' walked along tell she come to a Mogul -plum-tree, an' then she knelt down an' begun to dig away at the roots of -it. She dug an' dug, and then she put the box in the hole an' covered it -up. - -“'Oho!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Now you see whar she hides -her money an' your daddy's money. Ever'body thinks your daddy has -been a-throwin' his money away, an' thar's whar it's gone. I've been -a-watchin' her a long time.' - -“'I ain't botherin' 'bout the money,' says Johnny. 'I'm a-thinkin' 'bout -the frailin' I'm gwine to git.' - -“'Well,' says the little chap in the acorn, 'when she goes to the spring -for to fetch a bucket of water, put me in your pocket an' climb down -from here. Then go up the road a piece, an' there you'll see a red -cow a-grazin'. Walk right up to her, slap her on the back, an' say, -“Ningapie wants you.” Fetch her home an' tell your stepmammy that a -stranger told you that you might have her ef you'd go an' git her.' - -“Shore enough, 'twan't long before Mis. Chambliss come out'n the house -an' started to the spring for to git a bucket of water. She had done -took an' pulled off her Sunday-go-to-meetin' duds, an' she looked mighty -scrawny in her calico frock. Time she got out'n sight Johnny put the -acorn in his pocket an' scrambled down to the groun', an' then he split -off up the road ez hard ez ever he could go. He didn't go so mighty fur -before he seed a red cow feedin' by the side of the road, an' she wuz a -fine cow, too, ez fat ez a butter-ball, an' lookin' like she mought be -able for to give four gallons of milk a day an' leave some over for the -calf wharsoever the calf mought be. When she seed Johnny walkin' right -to'rds her, she raised her head an' sorter blowed like cow creeturs will -do, but she stood stock still tell Johnny come up an' patted her on the -back an' says: - -“'Ningapie wants you.' - -“Then she shook her head an' trotted along at Johnny's heels, an' Johnny -marched down the road a-swellin' up wi' pride tell he like to bust the -buttons off'n his coat. When he got home his stepmammy wuz a-stan'in' -at the gate a-waitin' for him wi' a hickory, but when she seed the cow -a-followin' long behine him, she took an' forgot all about the whippin' -she'd laid up. - -“'Why, Johnny!' say she, 'whar in the wide world did you git sech a -be-u-tiful cow?'” - -In his effort to mimic a woman's voice, Mr. Wall screwed up his mouth -and twisted it around to such an alarming extent that Joe Maxwell -thought for an instant the old man was going to have a spasm. The lad -laughed so heartily when he found out his mistake that Mr. Wall repeated -his effort at mimicking. - -“'Why, Johnny,' say she, 'whar in the wide world did you git sech a -be-u-tiful cow?' - -“Johnny, he up an' tol' his stepmammy what Ningapie tol' 'im to say, an' -the ole'oman, she wuz e'en about ez proud ez Johnny wuz. She patted the -cow on the back, an' muched her up might'ly, an' then she took her in -the lot an' got ready fer to milk her. Johnny felt the acorn a-jumpin' -about in his pocket, an' he took it out an' helt it up to his ear. - -“'Watch her when she goes to milk,' says Ningapie. - -“Johnny clumb the fence an' waited. Thess 'bout the time his stepmammy -begun fer to milk the cow good, a little black dog come a-rushin' 'roun' -the yard a-barkin' fit to kill. Time she heard 'im, the cow give a jump -an' come mighty nigh knockin' ole Mis. Chambliss over. Time everything -got quiet, here come a big pack of dogs a-chargin' 'roun' the -lot-palin's in full cry, an' it look like to Johnny that the cow would -shorely have a fit. - -“When night come,” Mr. Wall continued, throwing another pine-knot into -the fire, “Johnny got some milk for his supper, an' then he went to bed. -He helt the acorn to his ear for to tell the little chap good-night. - -“'Don't put me on the shelf,' says Ningapie, 'an' don't put me on the -floor.' - -“'Why?' says Johnny, in a whisper. - -“'Bekaze the rats might git me,' says Ningapie. - -“'Well,' says Johnny, 'I'll let you sleep on my piller.' - -“Some time in the night Johnny felt sump'n run across the foot of his -bed. He wuz wide awake in a minit, but he kept mighty still, bekaze he -wuz skeer'd. Presently he felt sump'n jump up on his bed an' run across -it. Then it popped in his head about Ningapie, an' he felt for the acorn -tell he found it. - -“'Now's your time,' says Ningapie. 'Git up an' put on your clozes quick -an' foller the little black dog.' - -“Johnny jumped up, an' was ready in three shakes of a sheep's tail, an' -he could hear the little black dog a-caperin' aroun' on the floor. When -he started, he took the acorn in his han'. The door opened to let him -out, an' shot itse'f when he got out, an' then the little black dog went -trottin' down the big road. It wuz dark, but the stars wuz a-shinin', -an' Johnny could tell by the ell-an'-yard” (the constellation of Orion) -“that it wuz nigh midnight. - -“They hadn't gone fur before they come to a big white hoss a-standin' in -the road, chompin' his bit an' pawin' the groun'. - -“'Mount the hoss,' says Ningapie. - -“Johnny jumped on his back, an' the hoss went canterin' down the road. -'Twan't long 'fore Johnny seed a light shinin' in the road, an' when -he got a little nigher he seed it was right in the middle of the cross -roads. A fire was a-blazin' up thar, an' who should be a-feedin' of it -but his stepmammy? Her hair wuz a-hangin' down, an' she looked like ole -Nick hisse'f. She wuz a-walkin' 'roun' the blaze, a-mumblin' some kinder -talk, an' a-makin' motions wi' her han's, an' thar wuz a great big -black cat a-walkin' 'roun' wi' her, an' a-rubbin' up agin her, and the -creetur's tail wuz swelled up out'n all reason. - -“'Watch out, now,' says Ningapie, 'an' hold on to your hoss.' - -“He hadn't more'n spoke the words before a pack of dogs broke out of the -woods an' made right for the ole'oman, an' Johnny's hoss a-fol-lerin' - 'em. Thar wuz a monst'us scatteration of chunks an' fire-coals, an' then -it looked like 'oman, dogs, an' all riz up in the elements, an' thar wuz -sech another yowlin' an' howlin' an' growlin' ez ain't never been heard -in them parts before nor sence. - -“When Johnny got back home he found his pappy a-waitin' for him, an' he -looked like a new man. Then they went down into the gyarden, an' -thar they foun' a pile of gold packed up in little boxes. Ez for -the ole'oman, she never did come back. She wuz a witch, an' Ningapie -unwitched her.” - -“And what become of the acorn?” asked Joe Maxwell. - -“Ah, Lord!” said Mr. Wall, with a sigh, “you know how boys is. Like ez -not, Johnny took an' cracked it open wi' a hammer for to see what kind -of a creetur Ningapie wuz.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI--THE OWL AND THE BIRDS - - -The Gaither boy grew to be very friendly with Joe Maxwell, and he -turned out to be a very pleasant companion. He was fifteen years old, -but looked younger, and although he had no book-learning, he was very -intelligent, having picked up a great deal of the wholesome knowledge -that Nature keeps in store for those who make her acquaintance. He could -read a little, and he could write his name, which he took great pride -in doing, using a stick for a pen and a bed of sand for a copy-book. -Walking along through the fields or woods, he would pause wherever -the rains had washed the sand together, and write his name in full in -letters that seemed to be wrestling with each other--“James K. Polk -Gaither.” As there was another James in his family, he was called -Jim-Polk Gaither. - -His friendship was worth a great deal to Joe Maxwell, for there was -not a bird in the woods nor a tree that he did not know the name of and -something of its peculiarities, and he was familiar with every road and -bypath in all the country around. He knew where the wild strawberries -grew, and the chincapins and chestnuts, and where the muscadines, or, -as he called them, the “bullaces,” were ripest. The birds could not hide -their nests from him, nor the wild creatures escape him. He had a tame -buzzard that sometimes followed him about in his rambles. He set traps -for flying squirrels, and tamed them as soon as his hands touched them. -He handled snakes fearlessly, and his feats with them were astounding -to the town lad until Joe discovered that the serpents were not of the -poisonous species. In handling highland moccasins and spreading adders, -Jim-Polk confined his feats to seizing them by their tails as they ran -and snapping their heads off. Whenever he killed one in this way he -always hung it on a bush or tree in order, as he said, to bring rain. -When it failed to rain, his explanation was that as a snake never dies -until sundown, no matter how early in the morning it may be killed, it -had twisted and writhed until it fell from the limb or bush on which it -was hung. - -Jim-Polk had many gifts and acquirements that interested Joe Maxwell. -Once when the two lads were walking through the woods they saw a pair -of hawks some distance away. Jim-Polk motioned to Joe to hide under -a hawthorn bush. Then, doubling his handkerchief before his mouth, he -began to make a curious noise--a series of smothered exclamations that -sounded like hoo!--hoo!--hoo-hoo! He was imitating the cry of the swamp -owl, which Joe Maxwell had never heard. The imitation must have been -perfect, for immediately there was a great commotion in the woods. -The smaller birds fluttered away and disappeared; but the two hawks, -re-enforced by a third, came flying toward the noise with their feathers -ruffled and screaming with indignation. They meant war. Jim-Polk -continued his muffled cries, until presently the boys heard a crow -cawing in the distance. - -“Now you'll see fun,” said young Gaither. “Just keep right still.” - -The crow was flying high in the air, and would have gone over but the -muffled cry of the owl--hoo! hoo! hoo! hoo!--caught its ear and it -paused in its flight, alighting in the top of a tall pine. Swinging -in this airy outlook, it sent forth its hoarse signals, and in a few -minutes the pine was black with its companions, all making a tremendous -outcry. Some of them dropped down into the tops of the scrub-oaks. They -could not find the owl, but they caught sight of the hawks, and sounded -their war-cry. Such cawing, screaming, fluttering, and fighting Joe -Maxwell had never seen before. The hawks escaped from the crows, but -they left many of their feathers on the battle-field. One of the hawks -did not wholly escape, for in his fright he flew out of the woods into -the open, and there he was pounced on by a kingbird, which Jim-Polk -called a bee martin. This little bird, not larger than his cousin, -the catbird, lit on the hawk's back and stayed there as long as they -remained in sight. The commotion set up by the crows had attracted the -attention of all the birds, except the smallest, and they flew about in -the trees, uttering notes of anger or alarm, all trying to find the owl. - -The incident was very interesting to Joe Maxwell. He discovered that the -owl is the winged Ishmael of the woods, the most hated and most feared -of all the birds. A few days afterward he went with Harbert to see the -hogs fed, and he told the negro how all the birds seemed to hate the -owl. - -“Lord! yes, sah!” said Harbert, who seemed to know all about the matter. -“Ain't you never is hear tell er de tale 'bout de owl an' de yuther -birds? Ole man Remus tole it ter me dis many a year ago, an' sence den I -bin hear talk about it mo' times dan what I got fingers an' toes.” - -Of course, Joe wanted to hear-- - - -THE STORY OF THE OWL. - -“Well, suh,” said Harbert, “hit run sorter like dis: One time way back -yander, fo' ole man Remus wuz born'd, I speck, all de birds wuz in -cahoots; dem what fly in de air, an' dem what walk on de groun', an' dem -what swim on de water--all un um. Dey all live in one settlement, an' -whatsomever dey mought pick up endurin' er de day, dey'd fetch it ter -der place wharbouts dey live at, an' put it wid de rest what de yuther -ones bin a-ketchin' an' a-fetchin'. - -“Dey kep' on dis away, twel, twant long fo' dey done save up a right -smart pile er fust one thing an' den anudder. De pile got so big dat dey -'gun ter git skeered dat some un ud come 'long whilst dey wus away an' -he'p derse'f. Bimeby some er de mo' 'spicious 'mong um up an' say dat -somebody bin stealin' fum de provision what dey savin' up ginst hard -times. Mr. Jaybird, he coyspon' wid Mr. Crow, an' Mr. Crow he coyspon' -wid Miss Chicken Hawk, and Miss Chicken Hawk she coyspon' wid Mr. Eagle, -which he was de big buckra er all de birds. An' den dey all coyspon' wid -one anudder, an' dey 'low dat dey bleeze ter lef' somebody dar fer ter -watch der winter wittles whiles dey er off a-huntin' up mo'. Dey jowered -an' jowered a long time, twel, bimeby, Mr. Eagle, he up an' say dat -de bes' dey kin do is to 'pint Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch. Mr. Owl he -sorter hoot at dis, but 'tain't do no good, kaze de yuthers, dey say dat -all Mr. Owl got ter do is ter sleep mo' endurin' er de night an' stay -'wake endurin' er de day. - -“So, den,” Harbert went on, pausing as if trying to remember the thread -of the story, “dey 'pinted Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch, an' dey all flewd -off, some one way an' some anudder. Mr. Owl, he tuck his seat, he -did, whar he kin take in a right smart stretch er country wid his big -eyeball, an' he sot dar right peart. But bimeby he'gun ter git lonesome. -Dey want nobody ter talk ter, an' de sun shine so bright dat he bleeze -ter shet his eye, an' 'fo' he know what he doin' he wuz a settin' dar -noddin' same ez a nigger by a hick'ry fire. Every once in a while he'd -ketch hissef an' try ter keep 'wake, but, do what he would, he can't -keep his eye open, an' bimeby he snap his mouf like he mad an' den he -slapped his head under his wing an' dropped off ter sleep good fashion. -Kaze when a bird git his head under his wing hit's des de same ez gwine -ter bed an' pullin' de kiver 'roun' yo' years. - -“Well, suh, dar he wuz, settin' up fast asleep. 'Long in de co'se er de -day, Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird, dey struck up wid one annuder out in de -woods, an' dey sot down in a popular-tree fer to carry on a confab. Dey -done bin coy-spon' wid one anudder an' dey bofe bin pullin' up corn. Mr. -Crow'low ter Mr. Jaybird dat he ain't so mighty certain an' shore 'bout -Mr. Owl, kaze he mighty sleepy-headed. Wid dat, Mr. Jaybird, he up an' -say dat he got dat ve'y idee in his min'. Dey sot dar an' swop talk'bout -Mr. Owl, twel, atter while, dey'gree ter go back fer de settlement an' -see what Mr. Owl doin'. - -“Well, suh, dey went dar, an' dar dey foun' 'im. Yasser! Mr. Owl sholy -wuz dar. He wuz settin' up on a lim' wid his head flung under his wing, -an' 'twuz all dey kin do fer ter wake 'im up. Dey hollered at 'im des -loud ez dey kin, an' bimeby he woke up an' tuck his head out from under -his wing an' look at um des ez solium ez a camp-meetin' preacher. -Dey 'buze 'im--dey quoiled--dey call 'im out'n his name--dey jowered -at 'im--but tain't do no good. He des sot dar, he did, an' look at um, -an' he ain't say nuthin' 'tall. Dis make Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird mighty -mad, kaze when folks quoil an' can't git nobody for ter quoil back at -um, it make um wusser mad dan what dey wuz at fust. Dat night when de -yuther birds come home, Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird, dey had a mighty tale -ter tell. Some b'lieved um an' some didn't b'lieve um. Miss Jenny Wren, -an' Mr. Jack Sparrow, an' Miss Cat Bird, dey b'lieved um, an' dey went -on so twel de yuther birds can't hear der own years, skacely. But de big -birds, dey sorter helt off, an' say dey gwine ter give Mr. Owl anudder -chance. - -“Well, suh, dey give Mr. Owl two mo' trials, let alone one, an' eve'y -time dey lef 'im dar fer ter watch an' gyard, dey'd fin' 'm fast asleep. -An' dat ain't all; dey skivered dat somebody done bin slippin' in an' -totin' off der provisions. - -[Illustration: 0099] - -“Dat settle de hash fer Mr. Owl. De birds sot a day an' fotch Mr. Owl up -fer ter stan' trial, an' dey laid down de law dat fum dat time forrud -dat Mr. Owl shan't go wid de yuther birds, an' dat de nex' time dey -kotch 'im out de word wuz ter be give, an' dey wuz all ter fall foul -un 'im an' frail'm out. Den dey say dat when he sleep he got ter sleep -wid bofe eyes wide open, a'n dey lay it down dat he got ter keep watch -all night long, an' dat whensomever he hear any fuss he got ter holler -out: - -“'Who--who--who pesterin' we all?' - -“Dat de way de law stan's,” continued Har-bert, placing his basket of -corn on the top rail of the fence, “an dat de way it gwine ter stan'. -Down ter dis day, when Mr. Owl asleep, he sleep wid his eye wide open, -an' when de yuther birds ketch him out, dey light on to 'im like folks -puttin' out fire, an' when he ups an' hollers in de night-time, you kin -hear 'im say: - -“'Who--who--who pesterin' we all?'” - -With a laugh, in which Joe Maxwell heartily joined, Harbert turned -his attention to calling his hogs, and the way he did this was as -interesting to Joe as the story had been. He had a voice of wonderful -strength and power, as penetrating and as melodious as the notes of a -cornet. On a still day, when there was a little moisture in the air, -Harbert could make himself heard two miles. The range over which the -hogs roamed was at least a mile and a half from the pen. In calling them -the negro broke into a song. It was only the refrain that the distant -hogs could hear, but as it went echoing over the hills and valleys it -seemed to Joe to be the very essence of melody. The song was something -like this: - - -HOG-FEEDER S SONG. - - Oh, rise up, my ladies, lissen unter me, - - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night fer ter knock along er you. - - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - - Oh, de stars look bright des like dey gwineter fall, - - En'way todes sundown you hear de killdee call: - - Stee-wee! Killdee! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - - - De blue barrer squeal kaze he can't squeeze froo, - - En he hump up he back, des like niggers do-- - - Oh, humpty-umpty blue! Pig-gee! Pig-goo! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - - - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night a gallantin' out wid you! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-hoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - - Ole sow got sense des ez sho's youer bo'n - - 'Kaze she tak'n hunch de baskit fer ter shatter out co'n-- - - Ma'am, you makes too free! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - - - W'en de pig git fat he better stay close, - - 'Kaze fat pig nice fer ter hide out en' roas'-- - - En he taste mighty good in de barbecue! - - Oh, roas' pig, shoo! 'N-yum! dat barbecue! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - - - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me: - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night fer ter knock aroun' wid you! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - -“Marse Joe,” said Harbert, after he had counted the hogs to see that -none were missing, “I got sumpin' at my house fer you. I'm layin' off -fer ter fetch it dis ve'y night.” - -“What is it?” asked Joe. - -“Tain't much,” said Harbert. “Des some 'simmon beer an' some -ginger-cake.” - -“I'm very much obliged to you,” said Joe. - -“Oh, 'tain't me,” said Harbert, quickly. “I was puttin' up de -carriage-horses las' night when I hear somebody callin' me, an' I went -ter de fence, an' dar wuz a nigger'oman wid a jug in one han' an' -a bundle in de udder, an' she say dar wuz some 'simmon beer an' some -ginger-cakes, an' she up an' ax me would I be so compleasant fer to give -um ter Marse Joe Maxwell, an' I 'lowed dat I'd be so compleasant.” - -“Who was the woman?” Joe asked. - -“She some kin ter Mink,” answered Harbert, evasively. - -“Well, what kin?” asked Joe. - -“She ain't so mighty much kin, needer,” said Harbert. “She des his wife. -She 'low dat ef you got any washin' er darnin' dat you want done she be -glad ter do it, an' den I say, 'Shoo nigger 'oman! G'way fum here! What -you speck my wife here fer?'” - -Here Harbert tried to look indignant, but failed. Presently he -continued: “Dat are 'simmon beer got sign in it.” - -“What sign is that?” asked Joe. - -“Well, suh, when 'simmonses is ripe hit's a shore sign dat 'possum ready -ter eat, an' tain't gwine ter be long 'fo' you hear me a-hollerin' -'roun' thoo de woods, mo' speshually if I kin git holt er dem dogs -what dat Gaither boy got. When it come ter 'possum an' coon dey er de -outdoin'est dogs you ever is lay yo' eyes on.” - -“I can get the dogs any time,” said Joe. - -“Well, suh,” said Harbert with enthusiasm, “atter to-night you can't git -um too soon.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII--OLD ZIP COON - - -Jim-Polk Gaither was very glad to go hunting with Joe Maxwell, having -taken a strong boyish liking to the lad, and so one Saturday evening he -came over to the Turner place with his dogs, Jolly and Loud. They were -large, fine-looking hounds, and Joe examined them with interest. Their -color was black and tan, and each had two little yellow spots over his -eyes. Loud was the heavier of the two, and Jim-Polk explained that he -had “the best nose” and the best voice, and yet he declared that in some -respects Jolly was the best dog. - -Harbert had already prepared for the hunt, and he soon made his -appearance with an axe and a bundle of fat twine to be used for torches. - -“Now, then,” said Jim-Polk, “what kind of game do you want? Shall it -be 'possum or coon?” - -“Dat's for Marse Joe to say,” said Harbert, - -“These are mighty funny dogs,” explained Jim-Polk. “If you start out wi' -a light, they'll hunt 'possums all night long. If you go into the woods -an' fetch a whoop or two before you strike a light, they won't notice -no 'possum; but you better believe they'll make old Zip Coon lift hisself -off'n the ground. So whichever you want you'll have to start out right.” - -[Illustration: 0105] - -“'Possum mighty good,” said Harbert, seeing Joe hesitate. - -“Lots of fun in runnin' a coon,” said Jim-Polk. - -“Well,” said Joe, “let's start without a light.” - -“Dat settles it,” exclaimed Harbert, with a good-humored grimace. “I -done bin hunt wid deze dogs befo'.” - -“You must have stole 'em out,” said Jim-Polk. - -“No, suh,” replied Harbert, “I went wid Mink.” - -“I wish to goodness,” exclaimed Jim-Polk, “that Mink was at home. Pap, -he sides with the overseer, but when I get a little bigger I'm a-goin' -to whirl in and give that overseer a frail-in', if it's the last act.” - -“Now you talkin'!” said Harbert, with emphasis. - -It was some time before they got free of the pasture-land, and then -they went by Mr. Snelson's, so that Joe might change his clothes for -a rougher suit. That genial gentleman was very much interested in the -hunt, and he finally persuaded himself to go. - -“I'll go,” said he, “joost to pertect the lads. It's a fine mess I'm -after gettin' into, and it's all on account of me good feelin's. They'll -be the death of me some day, and thin a fine man'll be gone wit' nobuddy -to take his place.” - -Mr. Snelson was so enthusiastic that he wanted to lead the way, but -after he had fallen over a stump and rushed headlong into a brush-heap, -he was content to give the lead to Harbert. - -Jim-Polk, who was bringing up the rear with Joe Maxwell, gave the latter -to understand that even if they didn't catch a coon, they'd have a good -deal of fun with the genial printer. - -“We'll have fun with him,” said Jim-Polk, “if we don't have to tote him -home.” - -Mr. Snelson kept up a running fire of conversation, which was only -interrupted when he stepped into a hole or a ditch. - -“I've often read of chasing the raccoon,” he said, “but it never -occurred to me mind it was anything approachin' this. You're right sure -it's the regular thing?” - -“You'll think so before you get back home,” remarked Jim-Polk. Harbert, -knowing what these words really meant, laughed loudly. - -“Well, well,” said the genial printer, “if it's all a joke, I'd as well -turn in me tracks and go home.” - -“Oh, no!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “Don't go home. If you think it's a joke -when we get through with it, you may have my hat.” - -“Dat's so,” cried Harbert. “Dat's so, sho! An' ef he wuz ter git de hat, -I speck I'd ha' ter he'p'm tote it. Yasser! Dat what I speck.” - -The enthusiastic Mr. Snelson and Harbert were ahead, and Joe Maxwell and -Jim-Polk brought up the rear. - -“I hope my dogs'll behave their selves tonight,” said young Gaither. -“You went on so about Bill Locke's nigger dogs that I want you to hear -Jolly and Loud when they get their bristles up. But they're mighty -quare. If Loud strikes a trail first, Jolly will begin to pout. I call -it poutin'. He'll run along with Loud, but he won't open his mouth until -the scent gets hot enough to make him forget himself. If it's a 'possum, -he'll let old Loud do all the trailin' and the treein'. You'd think -there was only one dog, but when you get to the tree you'll find Jolly -settin' there just as natchul as life.” - -The hunters had now come to the lands bordering on Rocky Creek, and, -even while Jim-Polk was speaking, the voice of a dog was heard. Then it -was twice repeated--a mellow, far-reaching, inspiring sound, that caused -every nerve in Joe Maxwell's body to tingle. - -“Shucks!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, in a disgusted tone. “It's old Loud, and -we won't hear from Jolly till the coon's track is hot enough to raise a -blister.” - -Again Loud opened, and again, and always with increasing spirit, and -his voice, borne over the woods and fields on the night winds, was most -musical. - -“Oh, my goodness!” cried Jim-Polk; “if I had Jolly here, I'd kill him. -No, I wouldn't, neither!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “Just listen! he's -a-puttin' in now!” With that he gave a yell that fairly woke the echoes -and caused Mr. Snelson to jump. - -“Upon me soul!” said that worthy gentleman, “ye'll never die wit' -consumption. In me books I've read of them that made the welkin ring, -but I've never heard it rung before.” - -“Shucks!” said Jim-Polk; “wait till Harbert there gets stirred up.” - -It was true that Jolly, as Jim-Polk expressed it, had “put in.” The -scent was warm enough to cure his sulkiness. Running in harmony and -giving mouth alternately, and sometimes together, the music the two dogs -made was irresistibly inspiring, and when Harbert at intervals lifted up -his voice to cheer them on even Mr. Snelson glowed with excitement and -enthusiasm. - -“Now, then, Harbert,” said Jim-Polk, “you can light your carriage-lamps, -and by that time well know which way we've got to trot.” - -The torches were soon lit, one for Jim-Polk and one for Harbert, and -then they paused to listen to the dogs. - -“That coon has been caught out from home,” said Jim-Polk, after a pause. -“The dogs are between him and his hollow tree. He's makin' for that -dreen in pap's ten-acre field. There's a pond there, and old Zip has -gone there after a bait of frogs. Just wait till they turn his head this -way.” - -“Tut, tut, young man!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with something like a -frown. “Ye talk like somebody readin' from a book--upon me word ye -do--and if that was all I'd not disagree wit' ye; but ye go on and talk -for all the world like ye had yure two blessed eyes on the coon all the -time. Come! if ye know all that, how d'ye know it?” - -“Well, sir,” said Jim-Polk, “the coon is three quarters of an hour ahead -of the dogs--maybe a little more, maybe a little less. How do I know -it? Why, because I know my dogs. They ain't on their mettle. They ain't -runnin' at more than half speed, if that. I can tell by the way they -open on the trail. Old Loud is takin' his time. When he gets the coon -started home you'll hear him fairly lumber. How do I know the coon is -goin' away from home? Shucks! My sev'n senses tell me that. We started -out early. So did old Zip. He was at the pond huntin' for frogs when he -heard old Louder open. If he's struck out on t'other side of the dreen -we'll have to wait tell the dogs fetch him back to the creek. If he -struck out on this side, he'll come right down the hollow below here. -Let's see what the dogs say.” - -“Deyer 'livenin' up,” said Harbert. - -The hunters walked a few hundred yards to the verge of the slope -that led to the bed of the creek. Suddenly the dogs were silent. Ten -seconds--twenty; a half-minute passed, and nothing could be heard of the -dogs. - -“We may as well return home,” said Mr. Snelson. “The ravenous beasts -have overtaken him, and they'll lay by till they've devoured him. Upon -me soul, it's queer tastes they have!” - -“Oh, no,” replied Jim-Polk. “Dogs'll eat rabbits and squirrels, but they -never eat coons nor 'possums. You'll hear from Jolly and Loud terreckly, -and then they'll be a-gallantin' old Zip home. Just listen!” - -As he spoke Loud gave mouth with a roar that filled the woods, and he -was immediately joined by Jolly, whose quicker and more decisive voice -chimed in as a pleasant accompaniment. - -“They are cornin' right this way!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, breathlessly. -“Don't make a fuss--just be right still, so's not to skeer the coon -across the creek. Jewhillikens! Jest listen at old Loud a-lumberin'!” - -And it was worth listening to. The mettle of the dog--of both dogs--was -now fairly up, and they gave voice with a heat and vigor that could -hardly have been improved upon if they had been in sight of the fleeing -raccoon. They seemed to be running at full speed. They passed within -twenty yards of where the hunters stood, snorting fiercely as they -caught their breath to bark. As they went by, Harbert sent a wild halloo -after them that seemed to add to their ardor. - -“Now, then,” exclaimed Jim-Polk, “we've got to go. You take the axe, -Harbert, and let Joe take your light.” - -Raising his torch aloft, Jim-Polk sprang forward after the dogs, closely -followed by Joe Maxwell and Harbert, while Mr. Snelson brought up the -rear. The clever printer was not a woodsman, and he made his way through -the undergrowth and among the trees with great difficulty. Once, when he -paused for a moment to disentangle his legs from the embrace of a bamboo -brier, he found himself left far in the rear, and he yelled lustily to -his companions. - -“Mother of Moses!” he exclaimed at the top of his voice, “will ye be -after leavin' me in the wilderness?” - -But for the quick ear of Harbert, he would assuredly have been left. The -other hunters waited for him, and he came up puffing and blowing. - -“I could cut a cord o' wood wit' half the exertion!” he exclaimed. -“Come, boys! let's sit down an' have an understandin'. Me legs and me -whole body politic have begun for to cry out agin this harum-scarum -performance. Shall we go slower, or shall ye pick me up an' carry me?” - -The boys were willing to compromise, but in the ardor of the chase they -would have forgotten Mr. Snelson if that worthy gentleman had not made -his presence known by yelling at them whenever they got too far ahead. -The dogs ran straight down the creek for a mile at full speed. Suddenly -Jim-Polk cried out: - -“They've treed!” - -“Yasser!” said Harbert, with a loud whoop; “dey mos' sholy is!” - -“Then,” said Mr. Snelson, sarcastically, “the fun is all over--the jig -is up.'Tis a thousand pities.” - -“Not much!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “The fun's just begun. A coon ain't -kotch jest because he's up a tree.” - -“Well, sir,” said Mr. Snelson, with a serious air, “if they've got -wings, upon me soul, we should have fetched a balloon.” - -When the hounds were trailing there was a mellow cadence in their tones -which was not to be heard when they barked at the tree. They gave mouth -more deliberately, and in a measured way. - -When the hunters arrived the hounds were alternately baying and gnawing -at the foot of the tree. - -“Bark to bark!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with much solemnity. His little -joke was lost on all save Joe Maxwell, who was too much interested in -the coon to laugh at it. - -Much to Harbert's delight, the tree was not a large one, and he made -immediate preparations to cut it down. - -“Wait a minit,” said Jim-Polk. “This coon ain't at home, and we'd better -be certain of the tree he is in.” - -“You must have been visitin' him,” said the genial printer, “for how de -ye know about his home, else?” - -“Some of these days,” said Jim-Polk, laughing, “I'll come to your house -an' stay to dinner, an' tell you about how coons live in holler trees.” - -“Fetch your dinner wit' ye,” responded Snelson, “and ye're more than -welcome.” - -Jim-Polk was too busy to make a reply. Holding the torch behind him, -and waving it slowly, he walked around the tree. He appeared to be -investigating his own shadow, which flickered and danced in the leaves -and branches. Now stooping and peering, now tiptoeing and craning his -neck, now leaning to the right and now to the left, he looked into the -top of the tree. Finally, he exclaimed: - -“Here he is, Joe! Come, take a look at him.” - -Joe tried his best to see the coon. He looked where Jim-Polk pointed, -taking sight along his finger, but he was obliged to confess that he -could see nothing. - -“Gracious alive!” cried Jim-Polk, “can't you see his eyes a-shinin' in -the leaves there?” - -“Pshaw!” exclaimed Joe; “I was looking for the whole coon, and I thought -the shiny things were stars showing between the leaves.” But no stars -ever burned as steadily as the pale-green little orbs that shone in the -tree. - -“Maybe,” said Mr. Snelson, after trying in vain to “shine” the coon's -eyes--“maybe the creature has left his eyes there and escaped.” But the -others paid no attention to his jocularity. - -“The thing to do now, Harbert,” said Jim-Polk, “is to lay that tree -where it won't hit up agin no other tree, because if we don't we'll have -to be a-cuttin' an' a-slashin' in here all night.” - -“So!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, in a tragic tone. “Well, then, I'll der-raw -the der-rapery of me couch about me and lie down to pleasant der-reams!” - -“You see,” said Jim-Polk, “if that tree hits agin another tree, off goes -Mr. Zip Coon into t'other one. Coon is quicker'n lightnin' on the jump.” - -“I'll make'er fall out dat way.” Harbert indicated an open place by a -wave of his hand. - -“Upon me soul!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, “I didn't know you could make a -tree fall up hill.” - -“Yes, suh!” said Harbert, with pardonable pride. “I done cleaned out too -many new groun's. I lay I kin drive a stob out dar an' put de body er -dish yer tree right 'pon top un it. I kin dat!” - -With that Harbert rolled up his sleeves, displaying the billowy muscles -of his arms, wiped the blade of the axe, spat in his hands, swung the -axe around his head, and buried it deep in the body of the water-oak. It -was a sweeping, downward stroke, and it was followed quickly by others -until in a very short time the tree began to sway a little. The dogs, -which had ceased their baying, now became restless and ran wildly about, -but always keeping a safe distance from the tree. Mr. Snelson took his -stand on one side and Joe Maxwell on the other, while Jim-Polk went out -where the tree was to fall, after cautioning Harbert to keep a lookout -for the coon. The advice to Harbert was given with good reason, for it -is a favorite trick of the raccoon to start down the body of the tree as -it falls and leap off while the dogs and hunters are looking for him in -the bushy top. - -This coon made the same experiment. As the tree swayed forward and fell, -he ran down the trunk. Mr. Snelson saw him, gave a squall, and rushed -forward to grab him. At the same moment Harbert gave a yell that was -a signal to the dogs, and the excited creatures plunged toward him. -Whether it was Jolly or whether it was Loud, no one ever knew, but one -of the dogs, in his excitement, ran between Mr. Snel-son's legs. That -gentleman's heels flew in the air, and he fell on his back with a -resounding thump. Stunned and frightened, he hardly knew what had -happened. The last thing he saw was the coon, and he concluded that he -had captured the animal. - -“Murder!” he screamed. “Run here an' take 'em off! Run here! I've -got 'em!” - -Then began a terrific struggle between Mr. Snelson and a limb of the -tree that just touched his face, and this he kept up until he was lifted -to his feet. He made a ridiculous spectacle as he stood there glaring -angrily around as if trying to find the man or the animal that had -knocked him down and pummeled him. His coat was ripped and torn, and his -pantaloons were split at both knees. He seemed to realize the figure he -cut in the eyes of his companions. - -“Oh, laugh away!” he cried. “'Tis yure opportunity. The next time it -will be at some one else ye're laughing. Upon me soul!” he went on, -examining himself, “I'd ha' fared better in the battle of Manassus. So -this is your coon-hunting, is it? If the Lord and the coon'll forgive -me for me share in this night's worruk, the devil a coon will I hunt any -more whatever.” - -Meanwhile the coon had jumped from the tree, with the hounds close -behind him. They had overrun him on the hill, and this gave him an -opportunity to get back to the swamp, where the dogs could not follow -so rapidly. Yet the coon had very little the advantage. As Jim-Polk -expressed it, “the dogs had their teeth on edge,” and they were rushing -after him without any regard for brake or brier, lagoon or quagmire. The -only trouble was with Mr. Snelson, who declared that he was fagged out. - -“Well,” says Jim-Polk, “we've got to keep in hearin' of the dogs. The -best we can do is to fix you up with a light an' let you follow along -the best way you can. You couldn't get lost if you wanted to, 'cause all -you've got to do is to follow the creek, an' you're boun' to ketch up -with us.” - -So Mr. Snelson, in spite of his prediction that he would get lost in the -wilderness, and be devoured by the wild beasts, to say nothing of being -frightened to death by owls, was provided with a torch. Then the boys -and Harbert made a dash in the direction of the dogs. If they thought to -leave Mr. Snelson, they reckoned ill, for that worthy man, flourishing -the torch over his head, managed to keep them in sight. - -“The dogs are not very far away,” said Joe. “They ought to have gone a -couple of miles by this time.” - -“Old Zip is in trouble,” said Jim-Polk. “He has been turnin' an' -doublin', an' twistin', an' squirmin'. He can't shake ole Loud off, an' -he can't git home. So what's he goin' to do?” - -“Climb another tree, I reckon,” said Joe. - -“Not much!” exclaimed Jim. “He'll take to water.” - -The dogs got no farther away, but the chase still kept up. The coon -seemed to be going in all directions, across and around, and presently -the dogs began to bay. - -“He's gone in a-washin'!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, with a yell. - -“Bless me soul! and how do ye know that?” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, who -came up puffing and blowing. - -“Oh, I know mor'n that,” said Jim-Polk. “The coon's in the water, 'cause -when the dogs bark at him it don't soun' like it did when they had their -heads in the air; an' he's in swimmin' water, 'cause, if he wan't, he'd -a' been kilt by this time.” - -It was as Jim-Polk said. When the hunters reached the dogs they could -see the coon swimming around and around in the center of a small lagoon, -while the dogs were rushing about on the banks. - -“I wish to goodness,” exclaimed Harbert, “dat dey wuz some young dogs -wid us, bekaze den we'd have de biggest kind er fight. Dey'd swim in dar -atter dat coon, an' he'd fetch um a swipe er two, an' den jump on der -heads an' duck um. Gentermens! he sholy is a big un.” - -“You're right!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “He's one of the old-timers. He'd -put up a tremen-jus fight if he didn't have old Loud to tackle.--Fetch -him out, boys!” he cried to the dogs, “fetch him out!” - -Long experience had taught the dogs their tactics. Jolly swam in and -engaged the coon's attention, while Loud followed, swimming sidewise -toward the center. Jolly swam around slowly, while Loud seemed to drift -toward the coon, still presenting a broadside, so to speak. The coon, -following the movements of Jolly, had paid no attention to Loud. -Suddenly he saw the dog, and sprang at him, but it was too late. Loud -ducked his head, and, before the coon could recover, fastened his -powerful jaws on the creature's ribs. There was a loud squall, a fierce -shake, and the battle was over. - -But before the dog could bring the coon to the bank, Mr. Snelson uttered -a paralyzing shriek and ran for the water. Harbert tried to hold him -back. - -“Ouch! loose me! loose me! I'll brain ye if ye don't loose me!” - -Shaking Harbert off, the printer ran to the edge of the lagoon, and -soused his hand and arm in the water. In his excitement he had held the -torch straight over his head, and the hot pitch from the fat pine had -run on his hand and down his sleeve. - -“Look at me!” he exclaimed, as they went slowly homeward. “Just look -at me! The poor wife'll have to doctor me body an' darn me clothes, an' -they're all I've got to me name. If ye'll stand by me, Joe,” he went on -pathetically, “I'll do your worruk meself, but ye shall have two -afternoons next week.” And Joe Maxwell “stood by” Mr. Snelson the best -he could. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--SOMETHING ABOUT “SANDY-CLAUS” - - -Harbert's house on the Turner place was not far from the kitchen, and -the kitchen itself was only a few feet removed from the big house; in -fact, there was a covered passageway between them. From the back steps -of the kitchen two pieces of hewn timber, half buried in the soil, led -to Harbert's steps, thus forming, as the negro called it, a wet-weather -path, over which Mr. Turner's children could run when the rest of the -yard had been made muddy by the fall and winter rains. - -Harbert's house had two rooms and two fireplaces. One of the rooms -was set apart for him and his wife, while the other was used as a -weaving-room. In one Harbert used to sit at night and amuse the children -with his reminiscences and his stories; in the other Aunt Crissy used -to weave all day and sing, keeping time with the flying shuttle and the -dancing slays. The children might tire of their toys, their ponies, and -everything else, but they could always find something to interest them -in Harbert's house. There were few nights, especially during the winter, -that did not find them seated by the negro's white hearthstone. On -special occasions they could hardly wait to finish supper before going -out to see him. Sometimes they found Aunt Crissy there, and as she was -fat and good-humored--not to say jolly--she was always a welcome guest, -so far as the children were concerned. As for Harbert, it was all one to -him whether Aunt Crissy was present or not. To use his own sententious -phrase, she was welcome to come or she was welcome to stay away. -Frequently Joe Maxwell would go and sit there with them, especially when -he was feeling lonely and homesick. - -One evening, in the early part of December, the children hurried through -their supper of bread and butter and milk, and ran to Harbert's house. -Aunt Crissy was there, and her fat face and white teeth shone in the -firelight as she sat smiling at the youngsters. - -“I done got Chris'mas in my bones,” she was saying, as Wattie and Willie -entered. - -“Well, I ain't g wine ter say dat,” said Har-bert, “kaze I'm dat ole dat -I ain't got no roo-mance in my bones fer nothin' 'tall, 'ceppin' 'tis -de rheumatism; yit dat don't hender Chris'mas, an' I ain't makin' no -deniance but what hit's in de a'r.” - -“Now you er talkin',” exclaimed Aunt Crissy, with unction. “You mos' -sholy is.” - -There was a little pause, and then Harbert cried out: - -“In de name er goodness, des lissen at dat!” - -What was it? The wind, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing like the -great waves of the sea, whistled under the eaves, and sighed mournfully -over the chimney. But it was not the wind that Harbert heard. There was -a sharp rattling on the shingles and a swift pattering at the windows. -Harbert and Aunt Crissy looked at each other and then at the children. - -“What is it?” asked Wattie, drawing a little closer to Harbert. - -“Pshaw! I know what it is,” said Willie, “it's sleet.” Harbert shook his -head gravely as he gazed in the fire. - -“It mought be,” he said, “an' den agin it moughtn't. It mought be ole -Sandy Claus sorter skirmishin' roun' an' feelin' his way.” - -“Trufe, too,” said Aunt Crissy, falling in with the idea. “He moughtn't -want to skeer nobody, so he des let folks b'lieve tain't nothin' but -sleet. Dey tells me dat ole man Sandy Claus is monstus slick.” - -“He bleedze ter be slick,” remarked Har-bert, “kaze I bin livin' yere, -off an' on, a mighty long time, an' I ain't saw 'im yit. An' I let you -know hit got ter be a mighty slick man dat kin dodge me all dis time. He -got to be bofe slick an' peart.” - -“Yasser,” said Aunt Crissy, holding her apron up by the corner, and -looking at it thoughtfully; “he slick fer true. He light 'pon top er de -house same ez a jay-bird, an' dey ain't no scufflin' when he slide down -de chimberly.” - -“Dey sez,” said Harbert, in a reminiscent way--“dey sez dat he rubs -hisse'f wid goose-grease fer ter make he j'ints limber an' loose; when -he got dis yere grease on 'im dey can't nobody ketch 'im, kaze he'd slip -right out'n der han's.” - -“I speck dat's so,” said Aunt Crissy, “kaze one time when I wuz livin' -wid Marse Willyum Henry an' sleepin' in de house in time er Chris'mas, -I tuck'n he'p'd de chillun hang up der stockin's. After dey all got ter -bed, I sot by de fier a-noddin'. How long I sot dar I'll never tell you, -but all of a sudden I yeard a tumble racket. I gun a jump, I did, an' -open my eyes. De outside do' wuz open, an' stannin' dar wuz one er Marse -Willyum Henry's houn' dogs. He stood dar, he did, wid his bristles up, -an' dar in de middle er the flo' wuz de ole cat. Her back wuz all bowed -up, an' her tail”--here Aunt Crissy paused and looked all around the -room as if in search of something with which to compare the old cat's -tail--“I ain't tellin' you no lie; dat cat tail wuz bigger 'roun' dan my -arm!” - -“I don't 'spute it,” exclaimed Harbert, with fervor, “dat I don't.” - -“An' dat ain't all.” Aunt Crissy closed her eyes and threw her head -back, as if to add emphasis to what she was about to say. “Dat ain't -all--dem ar stockin's wuz done fulled up wid goodies, an' dey wuz done -fulled up whilst I wuz a-settin' right dar.” No style of type has yet -been invented that would convey even a faint idea of the impressive tone -in which Aunt Cissy made this startling announcement. - -“Ole Sandy wuz gittin' you in close quarters, mon,” exclaimed Harbert. - -“Man, you er talkin' now,” said Aunt Crissy. “I wuz settin' right spang -at de fier-place,” she went on, describing her position with appropriate -gestures, “an' I could er des retched out my han'--so--an' totched de -stock-in's, an' yit, 'spite er dat, 'long come ole Sandy Claus, whilst I -wuz settin' dar noddin' an' fulled um up. Dat des what he done. He come, -he did, an' fulled um up right fo' my face. Ef my eyes had er des bin -open I'd a seed 'im, an' ef I'd a seed 'im, I'd a grabbed 'im right by -de coat-tail. Yasser! I'd a grabbed 'im ef he'd a kyar'd me up de -chimberly.” - -Wattie and Willie listened open-mouthed, so intense was their interest; -and so, it may be said, did Joe Maxwell. But now Willie spoke: - -“Suppose you had caught him, Aunt Crissy, what would you have done -then?” - -“Shoo, honey! I'd a helt him hard an' fas': I'd a rastled wid 'im, an' -when he'gun ter git de better un me, I'd a squalled out same ez one -er dez yere wil' cats. I'd a squalled so loud I'd a fair 'larmed de -settlement.” - -Aunt Crissy paused, folded her fat arms across her broad bosom and -looked in the fire. Harbert, with a long pair of tongs, as musical -as those that Shakespeare wrote about, put the noses of the chunks -together, and carefully placed a fat pine knot in the center. Then he -leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. - -“Well,” said he, after a while, “I dunno ez I bin close to ole Sandy -Claus as what you is, Sis Crissy, but I bin mighty close, an' 'tain't -bin so mighty long ago needer. One night des 'fo' Chris'mas I wuz -gwine'long thoo de woods close by de Ward place. I wuz gwine'long, I -wuz, sorter studyin' wid myse'f 'bout whedder I ought ter hang up my -stockin's wid de res' er de folks, when, fus news I know, look like -I kin year de win' blowin'. Hit soun' so loud dat I stop right in my -tracks an ax mysef what de name er goodness is de matter. I ain't feel -no win' an' I ain't see no bush shakin', but up dar in de top er de -trees hit look like dey wuz a reg'lar hurrycane a blowin'. Man, sir! she -fair roared up dar, yit I ain't see no win', an' I ain't see no bush -a shakin'. Hit make me feel so quare dat ef a hick'y-nut had a drapped -any-whar nigh me, I'd a broke an' run fum dar like de Ole Boy wuz atter -me. Hit make me feel so funny dat I ain't know whedder it wuz ole man -Harbert out dar, or some yuther nigger dat done got los' in some new -country. I stood dar, I did, en des waited fer sump'n ner ter happen, -but bimeby de noise all quit, an' de roarin' died down, twel you could -a yeard a pin drop. I kotch my bref, I did, an' I'low ter myself dat -all dat racket up in de a'r dar mus' sholy a-bin ole Sandy Claus agwine -sailin' by. Dat what I had in my min', yit I ain't stop dar fer ter make -no inquirements. I des put out, I did, an' I went a polin' home, an' it -make me feel mighty good when I got dar.” - -The children visited Harbert's house every night for several nights -before Christmas, but somehow they didn't seem to enjoy themselves. -Harbert was so busy with one thing and another that they felt themselves -in the way. They had the ardor and the hope of childhood, however, and -they continued their visits with persistent regularity. They were -very patient, comparatively speaking, and their patience was finally -rewarded. - -The night before Christmas, when their interests and expectations were -on the point of culmination, they found Harbert sitting in front of the -fire, his head thrown back and his hands folded in his lap; and before -the little ones could fix themselves comfortably, Aunt Crissy walked in -and flung herself into a chair. - -“_Whoo-ee!_” she exclaimed. “I'm dat tired dat I can't skacely drag one -foot 'fo' de yuther. Look like I bin on my feet mighty nigh a mont', dat -it do, an' I'm dat stiff, I feel like some er my lim's gwine ter break -in two. Dey ain't nothin' on dis plantation dat I ain't had my han's -in, 'specially ef it's work. It's Crissy yere, an Crissy dar, de whole -blessed time, an' I dun' ner what de lazy niggers'roun' yere would do ef -Crissy wuz to take a notion ter peg out. Mistiss got old Charity in de -kitchin' dar a-cookin' an' a-growlin', but when dey's any nice cookin' -ter be done, Crissy got ter go an' do it. I wouldn't mind it so much,” - Aunt Crissy went on, “ef dem yuther niggers'd do like dey tuck some -intruss in what's gwine on, but you know yo'se'f, Brer Harbert, how -no'count dey is.” - -“Ah, Lord! you nee'nt ter tell me, Sis Crissy, I know um; I know um -all. An' yit dey'll all be scrougin' one ane'r 'fo' day arter termorrow -mornin' fer ter see which gwine ter be de fus fer ter holler Chris'mas -gif' at marster an' mistiss. Now you watch um! dey'll all be dar, an' -dey ain't none un um skacely yearned der salt. I'm mighty nigh run down. -Dis mornin' de stock in de lot wuz a hollerin' fer der feed, an' it wuz -broad daylight at dat. Den dar wuz de milkin': hit wuz atter sun-up -'fo' dat Marthy Ann got ter de cow-pen. Dat gal blood kin ter you, Sis -Crissy, but I done laid de law down; I done tole'er dat de nex' time -she come creepin' out dat late, I wuz gwine to whirl in an' gi' 'er a -frailin', an' I'm gwine to do it ef de Lord spar's me.” - -“Nummine'bout no kinnery, Brer Harbert,” said Aunt Crissy, with -emphasis. “You des git you a brush an' wa'r dat gal out. She new han' -wid de cows, but tooby sho' she kin git out 'fo' sun-up.” - -“I'm mighty glad,” Harbert remarked, glancing at the children, who -were not at all interested in the “worriments” of those faithful -negroes--“I'm mighty glad dat Chris'mas is so nigh. De corn done in de -crib, de fodder in de barn, de cotton'n de gin-house, de hogs done kilt -an' put up, an' ef Charity ain't might'ly behindhand de turkey done in -de pot. Dat bein' de case, what mo' kin we ax, 'ceptin' we git down yere -on de flo' an' ax a blessin'?” - -“Trufe, too!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “I ain't quollin', but dem niggers -is so owdacious lazy dat dey keeps me pestered.” - -“Yasser!” continued Harbert, “de signs all look like deyer right. When I -sets right flat down an' run it all over, hit make me feel so good dat -I got a great mine fer ter hang up my sock right dar side er de -chimbly-jam, an' set up yere an' watch fer ter see ole Sandy Claus come -a-slidin' down. Ef his foot wuz ter slip, an' he wuz ter drap down on -dat pot-rack dar, I lay he'd wake up de whole plantation. My sock ain't -so mighty long in de leg,” Harbert went on, reflectively, “but she -mighty big in de foot, an' ef ole Sandy Claus wuz ter take a notion fer -ter fill'er plum up, she'd lighten his wallet might'ly.” - -“Did you ever hang up your stockings, Harbert?” asked Willie. - -“Why, tooby sho' honey,” replied the negro, laughing. “I bin hang um up -way back yander 'fo' you wuz born'd. An' I used ter git goodies in um, -too. Lord! dem wuz times, sho' nuff. I used ter git goodies in um dem -days, but now I speck I wouldn't git so much ez a piece er 'lasses -candy. But, nummine'bout dat! I'll des take en hang um up dis night, an' -I'll be mighty glad ef I git a slishe er cracklin' bread. Dat kinder -bread good nuff for me, 'specially when it right fresh.” - -“Man, don't talk!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “Look like I kin in about -tas'e it now!” - -“Aunt Crissy, are you going to hang up your stockings?” asked Wattie. - -“Bless yo' soul, honey! I mos' got in de notion un it. Ef 'twan't dat I'm -a sleepin' up in old Granny Chaney house fer ter sorter keep'er comp'ny, -I speck I would hang um up. But dey tells me dat 'twon't do no good ef -you hang up yo' stockin's in some un else house. 'Sides dat, ole Granny -Chaney so restless dat she'd in about skeer old Sandy Claus off ef he 'uz -to start ter come. I'm a tellin' you de trufe, Brer Harbert, dat ole -creetur done got so dat she don't skacely close'er eyes fer sleep de -whole blessed night. She take so many naps endurin' 'er de day, dat when -night come she des ez wakeful ez dat ole black cat what stay up dar at -de barn.” - -“Dat ole'oman gittin' ole, mon,” said Har-bert. “She wuz done grown an' -had chillun when I wuz little baby. She lots older dan what I is, an' I -ain't no chicken myse'f. I speck ef she 'uz ter go back an' count up 'er -Chris-'mases, she done seed mighty nigh ez many ez what ole Sandy Claus -is.” - -“Well,” said Aunt Crissy, changing the subject, “I ain't gwine hang up -no stockin', kaze I speck dat whatsomever ole Sandy Claus got fer me, -he'll drap it som'rs in de big house, an' when I holler at marster an' -mistiss in de morn-in', dey'll fetch it out.” - -“Dat's so,” said Harbert. “Yit I got a mighty good notion fer ter hang -up mine an' take de resk. But I'd a heap ruther git sumpin' dat's too -big fer ter go in um.” - -“Well, we are going to hang up our stockings,” said Willie. “I'm going -to hang up both of mine, and Wattie says she's going to hang up both of -hers.” - -“Dat's right, honey; an' if dat ain't 'nuff' whirl in an' hang up a -meal-sack. I done bin year tell 'fo' now 'bout folks what hang up great -big bags stidder der stocking. Whedder dey got any mo' dan t'er folks is -mo' dan I kin tell you.” - -“Harbert,” said Wattie, “do you reckon we'll git anything at all?” - -“Oh, I speck so,” said the negro. “I ain't year talk er you bein' so -mighty bad dis long time. You cuts up scan'lous sometimes, but it's kaze -yo' buddy dar pesters you.” - -This suggestion made Willie so angry that he threatened to go back to -the big house and go to bed, and he would have gone but for a remark -made by Aunt Crissy--a remark that made him forget his anger. - -“Dey tells me,” said Aunt Crissy, in a sub-dued tone, “dat de cows know -when Chris'mas come, an' many's de time I year my mammy say dat when -twelve o'clock come on Chris'mas-eve night, de cows gits down on der -knees in de lot an' stays dat-away some little time. Ef anybody else had -er tole me dat I'd a des hooted at um, but, mammy, she say she done seed -um do it. I ain't never seed um do it myse'f, but mammy say she seed -um.” - -“I bin year talk er dat myse'f,” said Harbert, reverently, “an' dey -tells me dat de cattle gits down an' prays bekaze dat's de time when de -Lord an' Saviour wuz born'd.” - -“Now, don't dat beat all!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “Ef de dumb creeturs -kin say der pra'rs, I dunner what folks ought ter be doin'.” - -“An' dar's de chickens,” Harbert went on--“look like dey know der's -sump'n up. Dis ve'y night I year de roosters crowin' fo' sev'n o'clock. -I year tell dat dey crows so soon in sign dat Peter made deniance un his -Lord an' Marster.” - -“I speck dat's so,” said Aunt Crissy. - -“Hit bleedze ter be so,” responded the old man with the emphasis that -comes from conviction. - -Then he intimated that it was time for the children to go to bed if -they wanted to get up early the next morning to see what Sandy Claus had -brought. This was a suggestion the youngsters could appreciate, and they -scrambled out of the door and went racing to the big house. - -Before sunrise the plantation was in a stir. The negroes, rigged out in -their Sunday clothes, were laughing, singing, wrestling, and playing. -The mules and horses having been fed and turned in the pasture for -a holiday, were capering about; the cows were lowing in a satisfied -manner, the dogs were barking, the geese screaming, the turkeys -“yelping” and gobbling, and the chickens cackling. A venerable -billy-goat, with a patriarchal beard and the rings of many summers -marked on his broad and crumpled horns, had marched up one of the long -arms of the packing-screw and was now perched motionless on the very -pinnacle of that quaint structure, making a picturesque addition to the -landscape, as he stood outlined against the reddening eastern sky. - -Willie and Wattie were up so early that they had to feel for their -stockings in the dark, and their exclamations of delight, when they -found them well filled, aroused the rest of the household. By the time -breakfast was over the negroes were all assembled in the yard, and -they seemed to be as happy as the children, as their laughter and their -antics testified. Towering above them all was Big Sam, a giant in size -and a child in disposition. He was noted for miles around for his feats -of strength. He could shoulder a bale of cotton weighing five hundred -pounds, and place it on a wagon; and though he was proud of his ability -in this direction, he was not too proud to be the leader in all -the frolics. He was even fuller of laughter and good-humor than his -comrades, and on this particular morning, while the negroes were waiting -for the usual Christmas developments, Big Sam, his eyes glistening and -his white teeth shining, struck up the melody of a plantation play-song, -and in a few minutes the dusky crowd had arranged itself in groups, -each and all joining in the song. No musical director ever had a more -melodious chorus than that which followed the leadership of Big Sam. It -was not a trained chorus, to be sure, but the melody that it gave to the -winds of the morning was freighted with a quality indescribably touching -and tender. - -In the midst of the song Mr. Turner appeared on the back piazza, and -instantly a shout went up: - -“Chris'mas gif, marster! Chris'mas gif!” and then, a moment later, there -was a cry of “Chris'mas gif, mistiss!” - -“Where is Harbert?” inquired Mr. Turner, waving his hand and smiling. - -“Here me, marster!” exclaimed Harbert, coming forward from one of the -groups. - -“Why, you haven't been playing, have you?” - -“I bin tryin' my han', suh, an' I monst' us glad you come out, kaze I -ain't nimble like I useter wuz. Dey got me in de middle er dat ring dar, -an' I couldn't git out nohow.” - -“Here are the store-room keys. Go and open the door, and I will be there -directly.” - -It was a lively crowd that gathered around the wide door of the -store-room. For each of the older ones there was a stiff dram apiece, -and for all, both old and young, there was a present of some kind. The -presents were of a substantial character, too. Those who had made crops -of their own found a profitable market right at their master's door. -Some of them had made as much as two bales of cotton on the land -they were permitted to cultivate, while others had made good crops of -corn--all of which was bought by their master. - -Then the big six-mule wagon was brought into service, and into this was -packed the horse-collars, made of shucks and wahoo-bark, the baskets, -the foot-mats, the brooms, the walking-canes, and the axe-helves, that -were to find a market in the town nine miles away. - -In spite of the war, it was a happy time, and Joe Maxwell was as happy -as any of the rest. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS - - -All was peace on the plantation, but war has long arms, and it dropped -its gifts of poverty and privation in many a humble home with which Joe -Maxwell was familiar. War has its bill of fare, too, and much of it was -not to Joe's taste. For coffee there were various substitutes: sweet -potatoes, chipped and dried, parched meal, parched rye, parched -okra-seeds, and sassafras tea. Joe's beverage was water sweetened with -sorghum-sirup, and he found it a very refreshing and wholesome drink. -Some of the dishes that were popular in the old colonial days were -revived. There was persimmon bread; what could be more toothsome than -that? Yet a little of it went a long way, as Mr. Wall used to say. And -there was potato pone--sweet potatoes boiled, kneaded, cut into pones, -and baked. And then there was callalou--a mixture of collards, poke -salad, and turnip greens boiled for dinner and fried over for supper. -This was the invention of Jimsy, an old negro brought over from the West -Indies, whose real name was Zimzi, and who always ran away when anybody -scolded him. - -[Illustration: 0144] - -The old-fashioned loom and spinning-wheel were kept going, and the women -made their own dyes. The girls made their hats of rye and wheat straw, -and some very pretty bonnets were made of the fibrous substance that -grows in the vegetable known as the bonnet squash. - -It was agreed on all sides that times were very hard, and yet they -seemed very pleasant and comfortable to Joe Maxwell. He had never seen -money more plentiful. Everybody seemed to have some, and yet nobody had -enough. It was all in Confederate bills, and they were all new and fresh -and crisp. Joe had some of it himself, and he thought he was growing -rich. But the more plentiful the money became, the higher went the price -of everything. - -After a while Joe noticed that the older men became more serious. There -were complaints in the newspapers of speculators and extortioners--of -men who imposed on and mistreated the widows and wives of the soldiers. -And then there was a law passed preventing the farmers from planting -only so many acres of land in cotton, in order that more food might be -raised for the army. After this came the impressment law, which gave -the Confederate officials the right to seize private property, horses, -mules, and provisions. And then came the conscription law. - -There was discontent among the men who were at home, but they were not -left to make any serious complaints. One by one the conscript officers -seized all except those who were exempt and hurried them off to -the front. Those who thought it a disgrace to be conscripted either -volunteered or hired themselves as substitutes. - -This is the summing up of the first three years of the war, so far as -it affected Joe Maxwell. The impression made upon him was of slow and -gradual growth. He only knew that trouble and confusion were abroad in -the land. He could see afterward what a lonely and desperate period it -must have been to those who had kinsmen in the war; but, at that -time, all these things were as remote from him as a dream that is half -remembered. He set up the editor's articles, criticising Governor -Joe Brown for some attacks he had made on the Confederate Government, -without understanding them fully; and he left Mr. Wall, the hatter, who -was a violent secessionist, to discuss the situation with Mr. Bonner, -the overseer, who was a Whig, and something of a Union man. - -Late one afternoon, after listening to a heated dispute between Mr. Wall -and Mr. Bonner, Joe concluded that he would take a run in the fields -with the harriers. So he called and whistled for them, but they failed -to come. Harbert thought they had followed some of the plantation hands, -but, as this rarely happened, Joe was of the opinion that they had gone -hunting on their own account. They were very busy and restless little -dogs, and it was not uncommon for them to go rabbit-hunting for -themselves. Going toward Mr. Snelson's, Joe thought he could hear them -running a rabbit on the farther side of the plantation. He went in that -direction, but found, after a while, that they were running in the Jack -Adams place, and as he went nearer they seemed to get farther away. -Finally, when he did come up with the dogs, he found that they were not -the harriers at all, but a lot of curs and “fices.” And then--how it -happened he was never able to explain--Joe suddenly discovered that he -was lost. - -Perhaps if the idea had never occurred to him he would never have been -lost, but the thought flashed in his mind and stayed there. He stood -still in his tracks and looked all around, but the idea that he was -really lost confused him. He was not frightened--he was not even uneasy. -But he knew he was lost. Everything was strange and confusing. Even -the sun, which was preparing to go to bed, was in the wrong place. Joe -laughed at himself. Certainly he could return the way he came, so he -faced about, as he thought, and started home. - -Walking and running he went forward rapidly, and he had need to, for the -sun had gone behind a cloud, and the cloud, black and threatening, was -rising and filling the sky. How long he had been going Joe did not know, -but suddenly he found himself near an old cabin. It was built of logs, -and the chimney, which had been made of sticks and red clay, had nearly -fallen down. The lad knew that this cabin was neither on the Turner -plantation nor on the Jack Adams place. He had never heard any of the -negroes allude to it, and he realized the fact that he had been running -away from home. - -Near the deserted house were the remnants of an orchard. A pear-tree, -jagged and unshapely, grew not far from the door, while an apple-tree, -with a part of its trunk rotted away, stood near a corner of the cabin. -A growth of pines and scrub-oak showed that the place had been deserted -for many a long year. A quarter of a mile away, through the gathering -darkness, Joe could see a white fringe gleaming against the horizon. He -knew that this was a fog, and that it rose from the river. Following -the line of the fog, he could see that the cabin was in a bend of the -river--the Horseshoe, as he had heard it called--and he knew that he was -at least four miles from home. By this time the cloud had covered all -the heavens. Away off in the woods he could hear the storm coming, -sounding like a long-drawn sigh at first, and then falling with a -sweeping rush and roar. Joe had no choice but to seek shelter in the old -house. He was a stout-hearted youngster, and yet he could not resist -the feeling of uneasiness and dread that came over him at the thought of -spending the night in that lonely place. But there was no help for it. -He could never find his way home in the darkness, and so he made the -best of what seemed to him a very bad matter. The cabin was almost a -wreck, but it served to keep off the rain. - -Joe went in and explored the inside as carefully as he could in the -darkness. A wood-rat or flying-squirrel rattled along the rafters as he -entered, and the loose puncheons of which the floor was made bumped up -and down as he walked across them. In one corner, as he went groping -about, he found a pile of shucks--corn-husks--and straw, and he judged -that the old cabin had sometimes been used as a temporary barn. After -satisfying himself that no other person or creature had taken shelter -there, Joe tried to close the door. He found this to be a difficult -matter. The sill of the house had settled so that the door was on the -floor. He pushed it as far as it would go, and then groped his way back -to the shucks and quickly made a bed of them. He was fagged out, and the -shucks and straw made a comfortable pallet--so comfortable, indeed, that -by the time he had made up his mind that it was a pleasant thing to lie -there and listen to the rain rushing down on the weather-beaten roof, he -was fast asleep. - -How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly he awoke to discover -that he was not the only person who had sought shelter in the cabin. The -rain was still falling on the roof, but he could hear some one talking -in a low tone. He lay quite still and listened with all his ears. He -soon discovered that the new-comers were negroes, whether two or three -he could not tell. Presently he could distinguish what they said. The -storm had ceased so that it no longer drowned their voices. - -“I tell you what, mon,” said one, “ole Injun Bill kin run ef he is -chunky.” - -“Lor'! I had ter run ef I gwine fer keep up wid old Mink.” said the -other. - -“Bless you!” responded the first voice, “I kin run when I git de -invertation, else ole Bill Locke an' his nigger dogs would a done cotch -me long ago.” - -“Dey ain't been atter me,” said the second voice, “but I'm a spectin' -un um eve'y day, an' when dey does--gentermen! I'm a-gwine ter scratch -gravel! You hear what I tell you!” - -“I come so fas',” remarked the first voice, “dat all dem ar buckeyes -what I had done bounce outer my pocket.” - -“What you gwine fer do wid so many buckeyes?” asked the second voice. - -“Who? Me! Oh, I wuz des savin' um up fer dat ar white boy what stay 'long -wid de printin' machine,” said the first voice. “He holp me 'long one -time. Harbert, he say dat white boy is des ez good ter niggers ez ef -dey all b'long ter im, an' he say he got a head on 'im. Dat what Harbert -say.” - -“I bin see 'im,” said the second voice. “I don't like white folks myse'f, -but I speck dat boy got good in 'im. He come fum town.” - -Joe Maxwell knew at once that one of the voices belonged to Mink, the -runaway, and he judged that the other belonged to Injun Bill, whose -reputation was very bad. He knew also that the two negroes were talking -about him, and he was not only gratified at the compliments paid him, -but felt safer than if he had been alone in the cabin. In a spirit of -mischief he called out in a sepulchral tone of voice: - -“Where's Mink? I want Mink!” - -He tried to imitate the tone that he had heard mothers sometimes employ -when they are trying to frighten crying children into silence with the -bogie man. There was no reply from Mink, but Joe could hear the two -negroes breathing hard. Then, imitating the voice of a woman, he cried -out: - -“Where's Injun Bill? I want Injun Bill!” - -[Illustration: 0153] - -Imagining how horrified the negroes were, and how they looked as they -sat on the floor quaking with terror, Joe could not restrain himself. -He fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that caused him to scatter -the shucks all over the floor. This proceeding, wholly unaccountable, -added to the terror of the negroes. Injun Bill, as it afterward -appeared, made a wild leap for the door, but his foot caught in a crack -in the floor and he fell headlong. On top of him fell Mink, and each -thought he had been caught by the thing that had frightened him. They -had a terrific scuffle on the floor, writhing over and under each other -in their efforts to escape. Finally, Mink, who was the more powerful of -the two, pinned Injun Bill to the floor. - -“Who dis?” he cried, breathing hard with fear and excitement. - -“Me! Dat who 'tis!” said Injun Bill, angrily. “What you doin' 'pon top -er me?” - -This complication caused Joe Maxwell to laugh until he could scarcely -catch his breath. But at last he managed to control his voice. - -“What in the name of goodness are you two trying to do?” - -“Name er de Lord!” exclaimed Mink, “who is you, anyhow?” - -“Dat what I like ter know,” said Injun Bill, in a surly tone. - -“Why, you've just been talking about me,” replied Joe. “I lay there on -the shucks and heard you give me a great name.” - -“Is dat you, little marster?” cried Mink. “Well, suh! Ef dat don't beat -my time! How come you sech a fur ways fum yo' surroundin's?” - -Joe explained as briefly as possible that he was lost. - -“Well, well, well!” said Mink, by way of comment. “You sholy gimme a -turn dat time. Little mo' an' I'd a thought de ole boy had me. Ef I'd a -bin by myse'f when I hear dat callin' I lay I'd'a to' down de whole side -er de house. Dish yer nigger 'long wid me, little marster, he name Injun -Bill. He say--” - -“'Sh--sh!” said Injun Bill, softly. Then in a whisper--“watch out!” - -Joe was about to say something, but suddenly he heard the sound of -approaching footsteps. The negroes by a noiseless movement stepped close -against the wall. Joe lay still. The new-comers entered the door without -hesitation. They had evidently been there before. - -“I'll take an' put my gun in the corner here,” said one. “Now, don't go -blunderin' aroun' an' knock it over; it might go off.” - -“All right,” said the other. “Where is it? I'll put mine by it.” - -Then they seemed to be unfastening their belts. - -“Hain't you got a match?” said one. “I'm as wet as a drownded rat. -I've got some kindlin' somewheres about my cloze. My will, ef I had it -fried,” he went on, “would be to be set down in front of a great big -fireplace adryin' myse'f, an' a knowin' all the time that a great big -tray of hot biscuit an' 'leven pounds of butter was a waitin' for me in -the kitchen.” - -“Thunderation!” exclaimed the other, “don't talk that way. You make me -so nervous I can't find the matches.” - -“Oh, well,” said the first, “I was jist a think-in' about eatin'. I wish -Mink'ud come on ef he's a-comin'.” - -“I done come, Mars John,” said Mink. - -“Confound your black hide!” exclaimed the man; “if I had my gun I'd -shoot a hole spang throo you! Whadder you want to skeer me outn a year's -growth for? If you're here, whyn't you sesso befo' you spoke?” - -“Kaze I got comp'ny,” said Mink. - -The man gave a long whistle, denoting surprise. “Who've you got?” he -asked, almost savagely. - -“Injun Bill.” - -“Who else?” - -“A white boy.” - -“Well, the great snakes! What sort of game is you up to? Who is the -white boy?” - -“He stay on the Turner plantation at de printin'-office,” explained -Mink. - -“You hear that, don't you?” said the man to his companion. “And now -it'll all be in the paper.” - -“Bosh!” exclaimed Joe. “I don't know you from a side of sole-leather. I -got lost while rabbit-hunting, and came in here out of the rain.” - -“He's a peart-talkin' chap,” said the man who wanted to eat a trayful of -hot biscuits and eleven pounds of butter. - -“He came fum town,” said Mink, by way of explaining Joe's “peartness.” - -“How long since?” asked one of the men. - -“Two years ago,” said Joe. - -After a little, one of the men succeeded in finding a match, and making -a light with the pine kindlings that one of the two had brought. In a -corner Mink found some pieces of dry wood and the small company soon had -a fire burning. The weather was not cold, but the fire must have been -very agreeable to the white men, who, as one of them expressed it, was -“wringin, wet.” These men took advantage of the first opportunity to -examine Joe Maxwell very closely. They had evidently expected to find a -much more formidable-looking person than he appeared to be, for one of -them remarked to the other: - -“Why, he hain't bigger'n a pound er soap arter a hard day's washin'.” - -“Naw!” said the other. “I've saw 'im be-fo'. He's that little rooster -that useter be runnin' roun' town gittin' in all sorts er devilment. I -reckon he's sorter out er his element here in the country.” - -“I've seen you, too,” said Joe. “I've seen both of you. I used to see -you drilling in the Hillsborough Rifles. I was at the depot when the -company went off to the war.” - -The two men looked at each other in a peculiar way, and busied -themselves trying to dry their clothes by the fire, standing close to -the flickering flames. They were not handsome men, and yet they were -not ill looking. One was short and stout, with black hair. He had a -scar under one of his eyes that did not improve his appearance. But the -expression of his face was pleasant in spite of this defect. The other -was thin, tall, and stoop-shouldered. His beard was scanty and red, and -his upper teeth protruded to such an extent that when his face was in -repose they were exposed to view. But there was a humorous twinkle in -his eyes that found an echo in his talk. Both men were growing gray. The -dark man was Jim Wimberly, the other John Pruitt, and both had evidently -seen hard times. Soldier-fashion, they made seats for themselves by -sticking the ends of loose boards through the cracks, and allowing the -other ends to rest on the floor. Thus they could sit or lie at full -length as they chose. Joe fixed a seat for himself in the same -way, while Mink and Injun Bill sat on the floor on each side of the -fireplace. - -“What do you call those here fellers,” asked Mr. Pruitt, lighting his -pipe with a splinter, and turning to Joe--“these here fellers what -jines inter the army an' then comes home arter awhile without lief or -license?” - -“Deserters,” replied Joe, simply. - -“So fur, so good.” said Mr. Pruitt. “Now, then, what do you call the -fellers what jines inter the army arter they'er been told that their -families'll be took keer of an' provided fer by the rich folks at home; -an' then, arter they'er been in a right smart whet, they gits word -that their wives an' children is a lookin' starvation in the face, an' -stedder gittin' better it gets wuss, an' bimeby they breaks loose -an' comes home? Now what sort er fellers do you call them? Hold on!” - exclaimed Mr. Pruitt, as Joe was about to reply. “Wait! They hain't got -no money an' no niggers; they hain't got nothin' but a little piece er -lan'. They goes off expectin' their wives'll be took keer of, an' they -comes home an' fines 'em in the last stages. What sorter fellers do you -call them?” - -“Well,” Joe replied, “I've never heard of such a thing before.” - -“No,” said Mr. Pruitt, “an' I'm mighty sorry you've heard about it now. -It ain't a purty tale.” - -“Who are the men?” Joe asked. - -“Yours, respectfully, John Pruitt an' Jeems Wimberly, Ashbank deestrict, -Hillsborough Post-Office, State of Georgia,” said Mr. Pruitt, solemnly. - -Joe had heard it hinted and rumored that in some cases, especially -where they lived remote from the relief committees, the families of the -soldiers were not so well provided for as they had a right to expect. -He had even set up some editorials in _The Countryman_ which hinted that -there was suffering among the soldiers' wives and children; but he -never dreamed that it was serious enough to create discontent among the -soldiers. The story that Mr. Pruitt and his companion told amazed Joe -Maxwell, but it need not be repeated here in detail. It amounted -to this, that the two soldiers had deserted because their wives and -children were suffering for food and clothing, and now they were -fugitives. - - - - -CHAPTER X--THE STORY-TELLERS - - -The strange company was silent for a long time. Mr. Pruitt and Mr. -Wimberly sat with their elbows on their knees and their faces in their -hands, and gazed into the fireplace, while the two negroes, true to -their nature, began to nod as the talking ceased. The silence at last -became painful to Joe Maxwell. - -“Mink,” he said, “suppose you should hear somebody coming, what would -you do?” - -“I wuz des worryin' 'bout dat 'while ago,” replied the stalwart negro, -passing his hand swiftly across his face. “I 'speck I'd be like de ole -sheep you hear talk about in de tale.” - -“What was the tale?” asked Joe. - -“Oh, 'tain't no long tale,” said Mink. “One time dey wuz er ole sheep -what had two chilluns. She call um up one day an' tell um dat dey better -keep a sharp lookout whiles dey er eating kaze ef dey don't sumpin' n'er -sholy gwine git um. Dey say 'Yessum,' an' dey went ter frolickin' up an' -down de fiel'. Bimeby dey come runnin' back, an' 'low: “'Oh, mammy, -yon's, a man! Mus' we-all run?' - -[Illustration: 0163] - -“Ole mammy sheep, she 'low: 'No! Go 'long and play.' - -“Atter while, dey come runnin' back an' low: 'Mammy, mammy! yon's a -hoss! Mus' we all run?' - -“Ole mammy sheep 'low: ''G'way frum here! Go on an' play.' - -“Bimeby dey come runnin' back. 'Mammy, mammy! yon's a cow! Mus' we all -run?' - -“Ole mammy sheep say: 'Go on an' play, an' quit yo' behavishness!' - -“Atter while dey come runnin' back. 'Mammy! oh, mammy! yon's a dog! Mus' -we-all run?' - -“'Yes, yes! Run, chillun, run!' - -“Dat de way wid me,” said Mink. “Ef I wuz ter hear some un cornin' I -wouldn't know whedder ter set still an' nod, or whedder ter break an' -run.” - -“That hain't much of a tale,” remarked Mr. Pruitt, “but ther's a mighty -heap er sense in it, shore.” - -“Shoo!” exclaimed Mink, “dat ain't no tale. You oughter hear dish -yer Injun Bill tell um. He kin set up an' spit um out all night -long.--Bill,” said he, turning to his companion, “tell um dat un 'bout -how de mountains come 'bout.” - -“Oh, I can't tell de tale,” said Injun Bill, marking nervously in the -floor with a splinter. “Ef I could tell dem like my daddy, den dat 'ud -sorter be like sumpin'. Me an' my mammy come from Norf Ca'liny. My daddy -wuz Injun, Ef you could hear him tell dem tales, he'd make you open yo' -eyes.” - -“How wuz de mountains made, Bill?” asked Mink, after a pause. - -“I wish I could tell it like my daddy,” said Bill. “He wuz Cher'kee -Injun, an' he know all 'bout it, kaze he say de Injuns wuz here long -time fo' de white folks wuz, let 'lone de niggers. - -“Well, one time dey wuz a great big flood. Hit rain so hard an' it rain -so long dat it fair kivver de face er de yeth. Dey wuz lots mo' water -dan what dey is in our kind er freshets, an' it got so atter while dat -de folks had ter find some place whar dey kin stay, kaze ef dey don't -dey all be drownded, dem an' de cree-turs, too. - -“Well, one day de big Injun man call dem all up, an' say dey got ter -move. So dey tuck der cloze an' der pots an' der pans an' foller 'long -atter de big Injun, an' de creeters dey come 'long, too. Dey march an' -dey march, an' bimeby dey come whar dey wuz a big hole in de groun'. Dey -march in an' de big Injun he stay behine fer stop up de hole so de water -can't leak in. 'Twant long 'fo' dey know dey wuz in de middle er de -worl', deep down under de groun', an' dey had plenty room. Dey built -der fires an' cook der vittles des same ez ef dey'd a been on top er de -groun'. - -“Dey stayed in dar I dunner how long, an' bimeby dey got tired er -stayin' in dar, an' dey want ter come out. Some un um went off fer hunt -fer de hole whar dey come in at, but dey can't fine it, an' den dey say -dey skeered dey ain't never gwine ter git out. But de big Injun say dey -plenty time, kaze fo' dey go out dey got ter know whedder de rain done -stop. He say ef de smoke kin git out dey kin git out. Den dey ax 'im -how he gwine fine out 'bout de rain, an' he say he gwine sen' some er de -creeturs fer fine de hole whar de smoke go out, an' see 'bout de rain. - -“Den de big Injun he went off by hisse'f an' study an' study how he -gwine fine de hole whar de smoke go out. He sent de dog--de dog can't -fine it. He sent de coon--de coon can't fine it. He sent de rabbit--de -rabbit can't fine it. Den he went off by hisse'f an' study some mo', an' -'bout dat time de buzzud come 'long an' he ax de big Injun what make him -look so lonesome. - -[Illustration: 0167] - -“Den de big Injun tell de buzzud 'bout 'im tryin' fer fine de hole whar -de smoke went fru. De buzzud he 'low dat him an' his ole 'oman kin fine -it, an' den de big Injun tuck an' sent um off. - -“Dey riz up, de buzzuds did, an' flewd de way de smoke went. Dey flewd -up an' dey flewd down, an' dey flewd all 'roun' an' 'roun,' but dey -ain't seed no hole whar de smoke go out at. Den dey come back, an' dis -make de big Injun feel mo' lonesomer dan befo'. He study an' he study, -un' bimeby he sent um out agin, an' tole um ter go high ez dey kin an' -spy out de hole. - -“So dey riz an' flewd up agin, an' dis time dey flewd right agin de top -er de yeth, up an' down an' 'roun' an' 'roun'. It bin rainin' so long -dat de crust er de yeth wuz done wet plum fru, an' it wuz saft, an' when -dey struck agin it dey made de print whar dey bin fly in'. Bimeby, de -old man buzzud, he got mad, an' he sail 'roun' twel he git a good start, -an' den he plow right 'long agin de roof. De ol' 'oman buzzud, she done -de same, an' bimeby dey fine de hole whar de smoke went out. Dey peeped -out, dey did, an' dey seed dat de rain done stop, but it monstus damp -outside. - -“Den dey went back an' de big Injun feel mighty good kaze dey done fine -de hole. After so long a time he giv de word, an' dey all marched out -fum de inside er de yeth an' went back ter whar dey useter live. It tuck -um a mighty long time ter fine de place, kaze when dey went away de lan' -wuz level, but when dey come back hit wuz full er hills an' mountains -dat look like great big bumps an' long ridges. Dey ax dey se'f how come -dis, an' dey study an' study. Bimeby de buzzud, he up'n say dat dem wuz -de print he lef' when him an' his ole 'oman wuz a-flyin' roun' tryin' -fer fine de hole whar de smoke went out. De groun' wuz saft, an' eve'y -time de buzzuds 'ud fly agin it dey'd make hills an' mountains. Dat what -my daddy say,” said Injun Bill, decisively. “He wuz Injun man, an' he -oughter know ef anybody do.” - -“What did I tell you?” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, who, up to this time, -had said nothing. “Mix Injun wi' nigger an' they hain't no kind er -rigamarole they won't git up.” - -They all agreed, however, that Injun Bill's story was amusing, and after -a while Mink said: - -“I speck Marse John dar mought match dat tale ef he wuz ter try right -hard.” - -Mr. Pruitt turned his pocket inside out to get some tobacco-crumbs for -his pipe. - -“Buddy,” he remarked, turning to Joe Maxwell, “did you ever hear tell -how the fox gits rid er fleas?” - -Joe had never heard. - -“Weil,” said Mr. Pruitt, “it's this away. When the fox, speshually -ef it's one er these here big reds, gits full er fleas, which they er -bleedze ter do in hot weather, he puts out an' goes tell he finds a -flock er sheep. Then he runs in amongst 'em, an' runs along by the side -er one tell he gits a chance ter pull a mouffle er wool out. Then he -makes a break fer the creek an' finds him a wash-hole an' wades in. - -“He don't, ez you may say, splunge in. He jest wades in, a little bit at -a time. Fust he gits in up ter his knees, an' then he goes in deeper -an' deeper. But he hain't in no hurry. When the water strikes the fleas, -nachally they start fer high-water mark. The fox feels 'em crawl up, an' -then he goes in a little deeper. When they crawl up ez high ez his back -he goes in furder, an' then they-crawl to'rds his head. He gits a little -deeper, an' they crawl out on his nose. Then he gits deeper, tell they -hain't nothin' out er the water but the pint er his nose. - -“Now all this time he's got that chunk er wool in his mouf, an' when the -fleas hain't got nowheres else ter go they make fer that. Then when -the fleas is all in the wool, the fox drops it in the water, comes out, -shakes hisse'f, an' trots off ter do some other devilment.” - -“Dat cert'ny is one way fer ter git red er fleas,” exclaimed Mink, -laughing heartily. Then he turned to Injun Bill. - -“Bill, what tale is dat I been hear you tell 'bout ole Brer Rabbit an' -de overcoat? Dat ain't no nigger tale.” - -“Naw!” said Injun Bill, contemptuously. “Dat ain't no nigger tale. My -daddy tell dat tale, an' he wa'nt no nigger. I wish I could tell it like -I near him tell it.” - -“How did it go?” asked Mr. Wimberly. - -“Well,” said Injun Bill, rolling his eyes to-ward the rafters, “it -sorter run dis way, nigh ez I kin reckermember: De time wuz when Mr. -Beaver wuz de boss er all de creeturs. He wa'nt de biggest ner de -strongest, but he wuz mighty smart. Fine cloze make fine folks in -dem days, an' dat what Mr. Beaver had. Eve'ybody know him by his fine -overcoat. He look slick all de week, an' he mighty perlite--he ain't -never fergit his manners. Mr. Rabbit see all dis an' it make 'im feel -jealous. He dunner how come Mr. Beaver kin be sech a big man, an' he -study how he gwine make hisse'f populous wid de yuther creeturs. - -“One time dey all make it up dat dey wuz gwine ter have a big meetin', -an' so dey 'gun ter fix up. De word went 'roun' an' all de creeturs make -ready ter come. Mr. Beaver he live up in de mountains, an' it wuz lots -mo' dan a day's journey fum his house ter de place whar de creeturs -gwine ter hoi' der big meetin'. But he waz bleedze ter be dar, kaze he -de head man. Ole Mr. Rabbit 'low ter hisse'f dat sumpin' got ter be done, -an' dat mighty quick, an' so he put out fer Mr. Beaver house. Mr. Rabbit -sho is a soon mover, mon, an' he git dar in little er no time. He say -dey all so 'fraid Mr. Beaver ain't comin' ter de meetin' dat dey sont -'im atter 'im, an' he help Mr. Beaver pack his kyarpet-bag, an' went on -back wid 'im fer comp'ny. - -“Mr. Beaver can't git 'long ez peart ez Mr. Rabbit, kaze he so fat -an' chunky, yit he don't lose no time; he des keep gwine fum sunup -ter sundown. Des 'fo' dark dey come ter whar dey wuz a river, an' Mr. -Rabbit, he 'low dey better camp out on de bank, an' git soon start in de -mornin'. So dey built up a fier, an' cook der supper, an' 'bout de time -dey wuz gittin' ready ter go ter bed Mr. Rabbit 'low: - -“'Brer Beaver, I mighty feared we gwine ter have trouble dis night!' Mr. -Beaver say, 'How comes so, Brer Rabbit?' - -“Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Dis country what we er in is called Rainin' Hot -Embers, an' I don't like no sech name. Dat de reason I wanter stop close -ter water.' - -“Mr. Beaver ax, 'What de name er goodness we gwine do, Brer Rabbit?' - -“Mr. Rabbit sorter scratch his head an' say, 'Oh, we des got ter put up -wid it, an' do de bes' we kin.' Den he sorter study, an' 'low: 'I speck -you better pull off dat fine overcoat er yourn, Brer Beaver, an' hang it -up in de tree dar, kaze ef de wuss come ter de wuss, you sholy want ter -save dat.' - -“Den Mr. Beaver tuck off his overcoat an' hang it up in de tree, an' -atter while dey lay down fer ter take a nap. Mr. Rabbit he stay wake, -but twa'nt long 'fo' Mr. Beaver wuz done gone ter sleep an' snorin' -right along. He sno' so loud dat Mr. Rabbit laugh ter hisse'f, an' 'low: -'Hey! Ole Brer Beaver pumpin' thunder fer dry wedder, but we gwine ter -have some rain, an' it'll be a mighty hot rain, mon.' - -“Den Mr. Rabbit raise hisse'f on his elbow an' look at Mr. Beaver. He -soun' asleep, an' he keep on a snorin'. Mr. Rabbit got up easy, an' -slipped roun' an' got 'im a great big piece er bark, an' den he slip -back ter de fier an' run de piece er bark un' de hot embers des like it -wuz a shovel. He flung um up in de air, he did, an' holler out: - -“'Run fer de water, Brer Beaver! run fer de water! It's a rainin' hot -embers! Run, Brer Beaver! run!' - -“De hot embers drapped on Mr. Beaver, an' he scuffled 'bout mightily. -Time Mr. Rabbit hollered, he flung an'er shower er embers on 'im, an' -Mr. Beaver gun one loud squall an' splunged inter de water head over -heels. Mr. Rabbit grab de fine overcoat an' run down de bank twel he -come ter whar dey wuz a canoe, an' he got in dat an' went cross, an' den -he put out ter whar de creeturs gwine ter hol' der big meetin'. Des 'fo' -he got dar, he put on de overcoat, an' he ain't do it none too soon, -nudder, kaze some un um had done got so unpatient 'long er waitin' fer -Mr. Beaver dat dey went out on de road a little fer ter meet 'im. - -“De overcoat wuz lots too big fer Mr. Rabbit, but it bin sech a long -time sence de creeturs had seed Mr. Beaver dat it look all right ter -dem, an' so dey gallanted Mr. Rabbit ter de meetin'-place same like he -wuz big man ez Mr. Beaver. Dey tuck 'im dar an' gallanted 'im up on de -flatform, an' sot 'im down in de big cheer, an' made 'im de boss er de -meetin'. Mr. Rabbit 'gun ter speak an' tell um he mighty much 'blige fer -all deze favers, an' 'bout dat time Mr. Fox 'low: - -“'Hey! Mr. Beaver done los' his voice!'” - -[Illustration: 0175] - -“Mr. Rabbit say he can't have no talkin', an' he kep on wid his speech. -Bimeby Mr. Wolf say: 'Hey! Mr. Beaver bin sick, kaze his cloze ain't -fit 'im.' Mr. Rabbit say he bleeze ter have order in de 'sembly, an' he go -on wid his speech. 'Twan't long 'fo' Mr. Fox jump an' holler out: - -“'Hey! Mr. Beaver done bought 'im some new years!' - -“Mr. Rabbit cock up one eye, an' see dat bofe er his long years done -come out fum un' de overcoat, an' den he know dat he better be gwine. He -make er break, he did, an' bounced off'n de flatform, an' start fer de -bushes, but some er de yuther creeturs head 'im off an' kotched 'im, an' -den dey tuck 'im an' tried 'im, an' de jedge what sot on 'im say he mus' -have mark on 'im so he can't fool um no mo'. Den dey tuck er sharp flint -rock an' split his upper lip, an' dat how de rabbits is got der lip -split.” - -“Shoo!” said Mink. “Dat Injun rabbit. Nigger rabbit would 'a' fooled dem -creeturs right straight along, an' he wouldn't 'a' bin cotch, nudder.” - -“Jim,” said Mr. Pruitt to Mr. Wimberly, “would it strain you too much -ter whirl in an' tell us a tale? We wanter show this young un here that -country folks hain't ez no 'count ez they look ter be.” - -“Jesso!” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, with much animation. “I wuz jest -a-thinkin' about one that popped in my min'. It ain't much of a tale, -but it tickled me might'ly when I fust heard it, an' I hain't never -fergot it.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Pruitt, “out wi' it. It ain't nigh bedtime, an' ef it -wuz we hain't got no beds ter go ter--that is, we hain't got none ter -speak of.” - -“One time,” Mr. Wimberly began, smacking his lips, “there wuz a man what -took the idee that he had done gone an' larnt ever' blessid thing under -the sun that thar' wuz ter larn, and it worried him might'ly. He took -the idee wi' 'im ever 'whar he went. Folks called 'im Ole Man Know-all. -He sarched in ever' hole an' cornder arter sump'n that he didn't know, -but, hunt whar he would an' when he might, he couldn't fin' it. It -looked like he know'd ever'-thing ther' wuz an' had been. Nobody -couldn't tell 'im nothin' that he didn't know, an' it made 'im feel -mighty lonesome. He studied an' studied, an' at last he said ter -hisse'f, sezee, that ef thar' wan't nothin' more fer 'im ter larn, he -jest might ez well lay down an' die. He said ter hisse'f, sezee, that -may be Grandsir Death could larn 'im sumpin. Jesso! - -“Well, he went home one night an' built 'im up a big fire an' fixed his -pallet an' lay down. 'I won't lock the door,' sezee; 'I'll jist leave -it onlatched so Grandsir Death can come in, an' maybe he can larn me -sump'n.' Jesso! - -“Ole Man Know-all lay thar on the pallet an' waited. He'd doze a little -an' then he'd wake up, an' he rolled an' tossed about tell purty nigh -day. He wan't oneasy, so to speak, but he wuz mighty restless. To'rds -mornin' he heard some un knock on his door--bam-bam! bam-bam! He wan't -skeered, but he got right weak. His mouth got dry, an' a big holler -place come in his stomach. He sez ter hisse'f, sezee, 'Shorely that's -Grandsir Death at the door.' Then he kivvered up his head an' shuck all -over. 'Twan't long 'fo' the knock come agin: - -“Bim-bim! bim-bim! bim! - -“Ole Man Know-all thought his time wuz done come, certain an' shore, an' -so he hollered: - -“'Come in!' - -“The door opened, but stedder it's bein' Grandsir Death it wuz a little -nigger boy. Ole Man Know-all sez, sezee: - -“'What you want this time er night?' - -“The little nigger boy sez, sezee, 'Mammy sent me arter some fier.' - -“Old Man Know-all told 'im ter come in an' git it. The little nigger boy -went in an' started ter the fireplace. - -“'They ain't no chunks thar,' sez Ole Man Know-all. 'Go git a shovel.' - -“'Don't want no shovel,' sez the little nigger. - -“' How you gwine ter take it?' sez Old Man Know-all. - -“'Easy enough,' sez the little nigger. - -“Ole Man Know-all turned over an' watched 'im. He went ter the h'ath, -filled the palm er one hand full er dead ashes, made a little nest in -the middle, an' then picked up a fire-coal this way.” - -Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Wimberly picked up a glowing coal of -fire, dropped it in the palm of his hand, whirled it around rapidly, -and then neatly transferred it to the bowl of his pipe, where it lay -glowing. - -“The little nigger picked up the coal that way,” Mr. Wimberly continued, -“an' then he started out. Ole Man Know-all hollered at 'im. - -“'Hol' on!' sezee; 'how you gwine ter kindle a fire from jest one coal?' - -“'Easy enough,' sez the little nigger. - -“Ole Man Know-all jumped up an' follered 'im, an' when the little nigger -come ter his mammy's house he got two fat pine splinters, picked up the -coal er fire wi' 'em jest ez ef they'd 'a' been tongs, whirled it once-t -er twice-t aroun' his head, an' thar wuz the blaze. - -“'Well,' sez Ole Man Know-all, 'I'm mighty glad Grandsir Death gimme the -go-by last night, 'cause I've larnt sump'n new. An' I reckon, ef I keep -my eyes open, I can larn lots more.' Jesso!” - -“I've saw folks that thought they know'd it all,” said Mr. Pruitt, “an' -it most inginer'lly happens that all what they know wouldn't make the -linin' fer a bug's nest.” - -There was some further talk, in which Joe Maxwell joined, or thought he -did, and then the cabin and all its occupants seemed to fade before his -eyes. He seemed, as in a dream, to hear Mr. Pruitt say that he wished to -the Lord that his little boy was as healthy and as well fed as the boy -from town, and Joe thought he heard the deserter telling his companions -of the desperate condition in which he found his wife and two little -children, who were living in a house remote from any settlement. The -lad, much interested in this recital, opened his eyes to ask Mr. Pruitt -some of the particulars, and, lo! it was morning. The fire was out, and -the deserters and negroes had disappeared. In the east the sky -glowed with the promise of the sun, the birds were singing in the old -apple-trees, and the cows were lowing. In the distance Joe could hear -the plow-hands singing as they rode to their tasks, and, when the sound -of their song had died away, he thought he could hear, ever so faintly, -the voice of Harbert calling his hogs. - -Mink had told Joe where he was, and how to get home, and he had no -difficulty in finding his way. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--THE RELIEF COMMITTEE - - -Joe Maxwell was very tired the day after his experience in the cabin -with the deserters and the runaways, but he was not too tired to -joyfully accept an invitation to visit Hillsborough with the editor of -_The Countryman_. For months the town had been practically in a state of -siege. As the war progressed, it had been made a hospital station. The -old temperance hall and many of the other buildings in the town had been -fitted up for the accommodation of the sick and wounded. There were also -many refugees in Hillsborough from Tennessee and north Georgia. While -the town was crowded, the small-pox broke out, and for a month or more -the country people were prevented from going there. Guards were placed -on all the roads leading into the town; but this was not necessary, for -the country people were not anxious to visit the place when they learned -of the small-pox. Hillsborough was placed under martial law, and a -provost-marshal given charge of affairs. This was necessary, not only to -control the small-pox, but to control the convalescing soldiers, among -whom were some very rough characters. - -Joe had stayed away so long that the town seemed to be new to him. The -playground in front of the old school-house was full of dingy hospital -huts; the stores with which he had been familiar had been put to new -and strange uses; and there were strange faces everywhere. Squads of -soldiers were marching briskly here and there; men with crutches at -their sides, or bandages on their heads, or with their arms in slings, -were sunning themselves on every corner. Everything was strange. Even -the old china-trees under which Joe had played hundreds of times had an -unfamiliar look. Dazed and confused, the lad sat down on one of the long -benches that were placed along the wall in front of some of the stores. -The bench was tilted back against the wall, and one end of it was -occupied by two men who were engaged in earnest conversation. Joe paid -little attention to them at first, but a word or two that he heard -caused him to observe them more closely. One of them was Mr. Deometari, -the Greek exile and lawyer; the other was a man whom Joe did not know. -He noticed that, although Mr. Deometari wore a faded and shabby uniform, -his linen was spotless. His cuffs and shirt-bosom shone in the sun, and -the setting of a heavy ring on his chubby finger sparkled like a star. -“He has forgotten me,” Joe thought, and he sat there determined not to -make himself known, although he and Mr. Deometari had been great friends -before the lad left Hillsborough. - -“There's another thing I'm troubled about,” Joe heard Mr. Deometari say -to his companion. “Pruitt has come home.” - -“What's the matter with him?” asked the other. - -“Deserted!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. - -“Well,” said the other, “it's a big risk for a grown man to take. If -he's caught, he'll have to pay the penalty.” - -“No!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, bringing his fist down on his broad knee. -“He'll be caught, but he won't pay the penalty.” - -“Why, what do you mean, Deo?” asked his companion. - -“Don't you know him?” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “He belongs to the Relief -Committee!” - -“Phew!” whistled the other, raising both his hands in the air, and -letting them fall again. - -“Don't you know him?” Deometari went on, with increasing earnestness. -“He's the man that shot the otter.” - -Again Mr. Deometari's companion gave a long whistle of astonishment. -“Jack Pruitt?” he asked. - -“The identical man,” said Deometari. “And do you know who this -provost-marshal here is--this Captain Johnson?” - -[Illustration: 0187] - -“Oh, yes,” said the other; “he's the chap that stole the last dust of -meal we had been saving to make soup for poor Tom Henderson.” - -“And what happened then?” inquired Mr. Deometari, as if trying to -refresh his own memory instead of that of his companion. “Didn't Jack -Pruitt give him a whipping?” - -“Why, bless my life!” exclaimed the other. “What am I thinking about? -Why, of course he did!” Saying this, Mr. Deometari's companion rose to -his feet, and caught sight of Joe Maxwell as he did so. Instantly he -laid his hand on Mr. Deometari's shoulder and remarked: - -“It is fine weather for birds and boys.” - -Joe was not at all disconcerted. He was not eavesdropping, though he -was very much interested in what he had heard. The way to interest a boy -thoroughly is to puzzle him, and Joe was puzzled. - -“I saw Mr. Pruitt last night,” he remarked, and then, as his old friend -turned, he said: - -“How do you do, Mr. Deo? You haven't forgotten me, have you?” - -Joe advanced and offered his hand. As Mr. Deometari took it, the frown -cleared away from his face. - -“Why, my dear boy!” he exclaimed, pulling the lad toward him and giving -him a tremendous hugging, “I am delighted to see you! I could count on -my ten fingers the people who are left to call me Deo. And if I counted, -my boy, you may be sure I'd call your name long before I got to my -little finger. Why, I'm proud of you, my boy! They tell me you write the -little paragraphs in the paper credited to 'The Countryman's Devil'? -Not all of them! Ah, well! it is honor enough if you only write some of -them. Forget you, indeed!” - -Mr. Deometari's greeting was not only cordial but affectionate, and the -sincerity that shone in his face and echoed in his words brought tears -to Joe Maxwell's eyes. - -“Blandford,” said Mr. Deometari, “you ought to know this boy. Don't you -remember Joe Maxwell?” - -“Why, yes!” said Mr. Blandford, showing his white teeth and fixing his -big black eyes on Joe. “He used to fight shy of me, but I remember him -very well. He used to stand at the back of my chair and give me luck -when I played draughts.” - -Mr. Blandford had changed greatly since Joe had seen him last. His black -hair, which once fell over his shoulders in glossy curls, was now gray, -and the curls were shorn away. The shoulders that were once straight and -stalwart were slightly stooped. Of the gay and gallant young man whom -Joe Maxwell had known as Archie Blandford nothing remained unchanged -except his brilliant eyes and his white teeth. Mr. Blandford had, in -fact, seen hard service. He had been desperately shot in one of the -battles, and had lain for months in a Richmond hospital. He was now, as -he said, just beginning to feel his oats again. - -“Come!” said Mr. Deometari, “we must go to my room. It is the same old -room, in the same old tavern,” he remarked. - -When the two men and Joe Maxwell reached the room, which was one of -the series opening on the long veranda of the old tavern, Mr. Deometari -carefully closed the door, although the weather was pleasant enough--it -was the early fall of 1864. - -“Now, then,” said he, drawing his chair in front of Joe, and placing -his hands on his knees, “I heard you mention a name out yonder when you -first spoke to me. What was it?” - -“Pruitt,” said Joe. - -“Precisely so,” said Mr. Deometari, smiling in a satisfied way. “John -Pruitt. Now, what did you say about John Pruitt?” - -“Late of said county, deceased,” dryly remarked Mr. Blandford, quoting -from the form of a legal advertisement. - -“I said I saw him last night,” said Joe, and then he went on to explain -the circumstances. - -“Very good! and now what did you hear me say about Pruitt?” - -“You said he would be caught and not punished because he belonged to the -Relief Committee.” - -“Hear that!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “If any but these friendly ears -had heard all that, we'd have been put on Johnson's black list, and -maybe we'd have been transferred from the black list to the guard-house. -Now, then,” continued Mr. Deometari, “you don't know anything about the -Relief Committee, of course, and as you might be inquiring around about -it, and asking what John Pruitt, the deserter, has to do with the Relief -Committee, I'll tell you. But, my dear boy, you must remember this: It's -not a matter to be joked about or talked of anywhere outside of this -room. Now, don't forget. It isn't much of a secret; it is simply a piece -of business that concerns only a few people. Do you remember reading or -hearing about the retreat from Laurel Hill?” asked Mr. Deometari, moving -his chair back and unwinding the stem of his Turkish pipe. “That was -in the early part of the war, and it will never cut much of a figure in -history, but some of those who were in that retreat will never forget -it. In the confusion of getting away a little squad of us, belonging -mostly to the First Georgia Regiment, were cut off from the main body. -When we halted to get our bearings there were not more than a dozen of -us.” - -“Seventeen, all told,” remarked Mr. Blandford. - -“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, “seventeen. We were worse than lost. We -were on the mountains in a strange country. Behind us was the enemy and -before us was a forest of laurel that stretched away as far as the eye -could reach. To the right or to the left was the same uncertainty. We -could hear nothing of the rest of the command. To fire a gun was to -invite capture, and there was nothing for us to do but push ahead -through the scrubby growth.” - -“The commissary was absent on a furlough,” remarked Mr. Blandford. - -“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, laughing. “The commissary was missing, and -rations were scanty. Some of the men had none at all. Some had a little -hard-tack, and others had a handful or so of meal. Though the weather -was bitter cold, we built no fire the first night, for fear of -attracting the attention of the enemy. The next day and the next we -struggled on. We saved our rations the best we could, but they gave out -after a while, and there was nothing left but a little meal which John -Pruitt was saving up for Tom Henderson, who was ill and weak with fever. -Every day, when we'd stop to breathe awhile, Pruitt would make Henderson -a little cupful of gruel, while the rest of us ate corn, or roots, or -chewed the inside bark of the trees.'' - -“And nobody begrudged Tom his gruel,” said Mr. Blandford, “though I'll -swear the sight of it gave me the all-overs.” - -“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “Somebody did begrudge Tom the -gruel. One night this Captain Johnson, who is lording it around here -now, thought Pruitt and the rest of us were asleep, and he made an -effort to steal the little meal that was left. Well, Pruitt was very -wide awake, and he caught Johnson and gave him a tremendous flogging; -but the villain had already got into the haversack, and in the struggle -the meal was spilled.” - -Mr. Deometari coiled the stem of his pipe around his neck, and blew a -great cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. - -“But what about the Relief Committee, Mr. Deo?” inquired Joe. - -“Why, to be sure! A nice story-teller am I!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. -“I had forgotten the Relief Committee entirely. Well, we went forward, -growing weaker and weaker every day, until finally we came to a ravine.” - -“It was a gorge,” observed Mr. Blandford, stretching himself out on Mr. -Deometari's bed, “and a deep one too.” - -“Yes, a gorge,” said Mr. Deometari. “When we reached that gorge we were -in a famished condition. Not a bird could be seen except crows and -buzzards. The crows would have made good eating, no doubt, but they were -very shy. We had lived in the hope of finding a hog, or a sheep, or a -cow, but not a sign of a four-footed creature did we see. I don't know -how it was, but that gorge seemed to stretch across our path like the -Gulf of Despair. Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that -they would go no farther. - -[Illustration: 0194] - -“They said they had no desire to live; they were as weak and as foolish -as children. Of the seventeen men in the squad, there were but five -who had any hope, any spunk, or any spirit--Blandford there, Pruitt, -Henderson, this Captain Johnson, and myself.” - -“You ought to put yourself first,” said Mr. Blandford. “You were as fat -as a pig all the time, and as full of life as a grasshopper in July.” - -“This ravine or gorge,” continued Mr. Deometari, paying no attention to -the interruption, “was our salvation. Mr. Blandford and Pruitt explored -it for a little distance, and they found a little stream of water -running at the bottom. It was what you call a branch. When they came -back there was considerable disagreement among the men. The poor -creatures, weak and irritable from hunger, had lost all hope, and would -listen to no argument that didn't suit their whims. There was this -question to settle: Should we cross the gorge and continue in the course -we had been going, or should we' follow the gorge? It was a very serious -question. We had not the slightest idea where we were. We had been -wandering about in the mountains for eight days, and if we were going to -get out at all it was necessary to be in a hurry about it. - -“Then there was another question. If the gorge was to be followed, which -way should we go? Should we follow the running water or should we go -the other way? Blandford and Pruitt had already made up their minds to -follow the running water, and of course I was going with them.” - -“That's because it was down hill,” remarked Mr. Blandford, laughing. -“Deo always said his legs were never made for going up hill.” - -“We had a great discussion. My dear boy, if you want to see how peevish -and ill-natured and idiotic a grown man can be, just starve him for a -matter of eight or nine days. Some wanted to go one way and some wanted -to go another, while others wanted to stay where they were. Actually, -Blandford and I had to cut hickories and pretend that we were going to -flog the men who wanted to stay there and die, and when we got them -on their feet we had to drive them along like a drove of sheep, while -Pruitt led the way. - -“Pruitt's idea was that the running water led somewhere. This may seem -to be a very simple matter now, but in our weak and confused condition -it was a very fortunate thing that he had the idea and stuck to it. We -found out afterward that if we had continued on the course we had been -going, or if we had followed the gorge in the other direction, we would -have buried ourselves in a wilderness more than a hundred miles in -extent. - -“The next day a couple of hawks and two jay-birds were shot, and, though -they made small rations for seventeen men, yet they were refreshing, and -the very sight of them made us feel better. The walls of the gorge grew -wider apart, and the branch became larger as we followed it. The third -day after we had changed our course Pruitt, who was ahead, suddenly -paused and lifted his hand. Some of the men were so weak that they -swayed from side to side as they halted. The sight of them was pitiful. -We soon saw what had attracted Pruitt's attention. On the rocks, above a -pool of water, an otter lay sunning himself. He was as fat as butter. We -stood speechless a moment and then sank to the ground. There was no -fear that the otter could hear our voices, for the branch, which had now -grown into a creek, fell noisily into the pool. If he had heard us--if -he had slipped off the rocks and disappeared--” Mr. Deometari paused and -looked into his pipe. - -“Great heavens, Deo!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford, jumping up from the bed. -“I'll never forget that as long as I live! I never had such feelings -before, and I've never had such since.” - -“Yes,” continued Mr. Deometari, “it was an awful moment. Each man knew -that we must have the otter, but how could we get him? He must be shot, -but who could shoot him? Who would have nerve enough to put the ball in -the right spot? The man who held the gun would know how much depended on -him; he would be too excited to shoot straight. I looked at the men, and -most of them were trembling. Those who were not trembling were as white -as a sheet with excitement. I looked at Pruitt, and he was standing up, -watching the otter, and whistling a little jig under his breath. So I -said to him, as quietly as I could: - -“'Take your gun, man, and give it to him. You can't miss. He's as big as -a barn-door.' - -“Pruitt dropped on one knee, put a fresh cap on his gun, shook his hand -loose from his sleeve, leveled his piece, and said, 'Pray for it, boys!' - -[Illustration: 0200] - -“Then he fired. He was so weak that the gun kicked him over. When I -looked at the otter it seemed that the creature had never moved, but -presently I saw a leg quivering, and then we rushed forward as fast as -we could, the happiest lot of men you ever saw on this earth. The otter -was shot through the head. The men were so ravenous they acted like -maniacs. It was all that Blandford and Pruitt and I could do to keep -them from falling on the otter with their knives and eating it raw, hide -and all. - -“But it saved us,” Mr. Deometari went on, “and we had something to -spare. The next day we met with a farmer hunting his stray sheep, and we -soon got back to the army. Four of us formed the Relief Committee before -we parted. Blandford, Pruitt, Tom Henderson, and myself--the men who -had never lost hope--promised each other, and shook hands on it, that -whenever one got in trouble the others would help him out without any -questions. - -“Now, it isn't necessary to ask any questions about Pruitt He deserted -because his family were in a starving condition.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Blandford, bringing his heavy jaws together with a snap, -“and I believe in my soul that Johnson has kept food and clothes away -from them!” - -“I know he has,” said Mr. Deometari, calmly. “Tom Henderson is one -of Johnson's clerks, and he keeps the run of things. He is to meet us -to-night, and then you'll see a man who has been blazing mad for three -months.--Now, my boy,” continued Mr. Deometari, “forget all about this. -You are too young to be troubled with such things. We're just watching -to see how Captain Johnson proposes to pay off the score he owes Pruitt. -Should you chance to see John, just tell him that the Relief Committee -has taken charge of Hillsborough for a few weeks. Another thing,” said -Mr. Deometari, laying his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder, “if you -should be sent for some day or some night, just drop everything and -come with the messenger. A bright chap like you is never too small to do -good.” - -The two men shook hands with Joe, and Mr. Blandford gravely took off his -hat when he bade the boy good-by. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT - - -For a few days Joe Maxwell forgot all about Mr. Deometari, Mr. -Blandford, and Mr. Pruitt. There was distinguished company visiting -the editor of The Countryman--a young lady from Virginia, Miss Nellie -Carter, and her mother, and some young officers at home on furlough. One -of these young officers, a kinsman of the editor, brought his pack -of fox-hounds, and arrangements were made for a grand fox-hunt. The -plantation seemed to arouse itself to please the visitors. The negroes -around the house put on their Sunday clothes and went hurrying about -their duties, as if to show themselves at their best. - -Joe was very glad when the editor told him that he was to go with the -fox-hunters and act as master of ceremonies. Fox-hunting was a sport -of which he was very fond, for it seemed to combine all the elements -of health and pleasure in outdoor life. Shortly after Joe went to the -plantation the editor of _The Countryman_ had brought from Hillsborough -a hound puppy, which had been sent him by a Mr. Birdsong. This Mr. -Birdsong was a celebrated breeder of fox-hounds, having at one time the -only pack south of Virginia that could catch a red fox. He was a great -admirer of the editor of _The Countryman_, and he sent him the dog as -a gift. In his letter Mr. Birdsong wrote that the puppy had been raised -under a gourd-vine, and so the editor called him Jonah. Joe Maxwell -thought the name was a very good one, but it turned out that the dog was -very much better than his name. The editor gave the dog to Joe, who -took great pains in training him. Before Jonah was six months old he had -learned to trail a fox-skin, and by the time he was a year old hardly a -morning passed that Joe did not drag the skin for the pleasure of seeing -Jonah trail it. He developed great speed and powers of scent, and he was -not more than two years old before he had run down and caught a red fox, -unaided and alone. Naturally, Joe was very proud of Jonah, and he was -glad of an opportunity to show off the dog's hunting qualities. - -In training Jonah, Joe had also unwittingly trained an old fox that -made his home on the plantation. The fox came to be well known to -every hunter in the county. He was old, and tough, and sly. He had been -pursued so often that if he heard a dog bark in the early morning hours, -or a horn blow, he was up and away. The negroes called him “Old Sandy,” - and this was the name he came to be known by. Jonah when a puppy had -trailed Old Sandy many a time, and Joe knew all his tricks and turnings. -He decided that it would be well to give the young officer's pack some -exercise with this cunning old fox. - -All the arrangements for the hunt were made by the editor. Joe Maxwell -was to escort Miss Nellie Carter, who, although a Virginian and a good -horsewoman, had never ridden across the country after a fox. The lad was -to manage so that Miss Carter should see at least as much of the hunt -as the young men who were to follow the hounds, while Harbert was to -go along to pull down and put up the fences. To Joe this was a new and -comical feature of fox-hunting, but the editor said that this would be -safer for Miss Carter. - -When the morning of the hunt arrived, Joe was ready before any of the -guests, as he had intended to be. He wanted to see to everything, much -to Harbert's amusement. Like all boys, he was excited and enthusiastic, -and he was very anxious to see the hunt go off successfully. Finally, -when all had had a cup of coffee, they mounted their horses and were -ready to go. - -“Now, then,” said Joe, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed, as he -knew that Miss Nellie Carter was looking and listening, “there must be -no horn-blowing until after the hunt is over. Of course, you can blow -if you want to,” Joe went on, thinking he had heard one of the young men -laugh, “but we won't have much of a hunt. We are going after Old Sandy -this morning, and he doesn't like to hear a horn at all. If we can keep -the dogs from barking until we get to the field, so much the better.” - -“You must pay attention,” said Miss Carter, as some of the young men -were beginning to make sarcastic suggestions. “I want to see a real -fox-hunt, and I'm sure it will be better to follow Mr. Maxwell's -advice.” - -Joe blushed to here his name pronounced so sweetly, but in the dim -twilight of morning his embarrassment could not be seen. - -“Are your dogs all here, sir?” he asked the young man who had brought -his hounds. “I have counted seven, and mine makes eight.” - -“Is yours a rabbit-dog?” the young man asked. - -“Oh, he's very good for rabbits,” replied Joe, irritated by the -question. - -“Then hadn't we better leave him?” the young man asked, not unkindly, -“He might give us a good deal of trouble.” - -“I'll answer for that,” said Joe. “If everybody is ready, we'll go.” - -“You are to be my escort, Mr. Maxwell,” said Miss Carter, taking her -place by Joe's side, “and I know I shall be well taken care of.” - -The cavalcade moved off and for a mile followed the public road. Then it -turned into a lane and then into a plantation road that led to what -was called the “Turner old field,” where for three or four years, and -perhaps longer, Old Sandy had made his headquarters. By the time the -hunters reached the field, which was a mile in extent, and made up -of pasture-land overgrown with broom-sedge, wild plum-trees, and -blackberry-vines, the dawn had disappeared before the sun. Red and -yellow clouds mingled together in the east, and a rosy glow fell across -the hills and woods. As they halted for Harbert to take down the fence, -Joe stole a glance at his companion, and as she sat with her lips parted -and the faint reflection of the rosy sky on her cheeks, he thought -he had never seen a prettier picture. Jonah seemed to be of the same -opinion, for he stood by the young lady's horse, looking into her face, -and whistled wistfully through his nose. - -“That is your dog, I know!” said Miss Carter. “Why, he's a perfect -beauty! Poor fellow!” she exclaimed, stretching her arm out and -filliping her fingers. Jonah gathered himself together, leaped lightly -into the air, and touched her fair hand with his velvet tongue. Joe -blushed with delight. “Why, he jumped as high as a man's head!” she -cried. “I know he will catch the fox.” - -“I think we have stolen a march on Old Sandy,” said Joe, “and if we -have, you'll see a fine race. I hope the other dogs can keep up.” - -“Ah,” said their owner, “they are Maryland dogs.” - -“My dog,” said Joe, proudly, “is a Birdsong.” - -By this time the hunters had crossed the fence, and the dogs, with the -exception of Jonah, were beginning to cast about in the broom-sedge and -brier-patches. - -“I hope Jonah isn't lazy,” said Miss Carter, watching the dog as he -walked in quiet dignity by the side of her horse. - -“Oh, no,” said Joe, “he isn't lazy; but he never gets in a hurry until -the time comes.” - -The young men tried to tease Joe about Jonah, but the lad only smiled, -and Jonah gradually worked away from the horses. It was noticed that he -did not hunt as closely as the other dogs, nor did he nose the ground as -carefully. He swept the field in ever-widening circles, going in an -easy gallop, that was the perfection of grace, and energy, and strength. -Presently Harbert cried out: - -“Looky yonder, Marse Joe! Looky yonder at Jonah!” - -All eyes were turned in the direction that Harbert pointed. The dog -was hunting where the brown sedge was higher than his head, and he had -evidently discovered something, for he would leap into the air, look -around, and drop back into the sedge, only to go through the same -performance with increasing energy. - -“Why don't he give a yelp or two and call the other dogs to help him?” - exclaimed one of the young men. - -“He's no tattler,” said Joe, “and he doesn't need any help. That fox has -either just got up or he isn't twenty yards away. Just wait!” - -The next moment Jonah gave tongue with thrilling energy, repeated the -challenge twice, and was off, topping the fence like a bird. The effect -on the other dogs was magical; they rushed to the cry, caught up the -red-hot drag, scrambled over the fence the best they could, and went -away, followed by a cheer from Harbert that shook the dew from the -leaves. The young men were off, too, and Joe had all he could do to hold -his horse, which was in the habit of running with the hounds. The sound -of the hunt grew fainter as the dogs ran across a stretch of meadow-land -and through a skirt of woods to the open country beyond; and Joe and -Miss Carter, accompanied by Harbert, proceeded leisurely to the brow of -a hill near by. - -“If that is Old Sandy,” said Joe, “he will come across the Bermuda field -yonder, turn to the left, and pass us not very far from that dead pine.” - Joe was very proud of his knowledge. - -“Why, we shall see the best of the hunt!” cried Miss Carter, -enthusiastically. - -They sat on their horses and listened. Sometimes the hounds seemed to -be coming nearer, and then they would veer off. Finally, their musical -voices melted away in the distance. Joe kept his eyes on the Bermuda -field, and so did Harbert, while Miss Carter tapped her horse's mane -gently with her riding-whip, and seemed to be enjoying the scene. They -waited a long time, and Joe was beginning to grow disheartened, when -Harbert suddenly exclaimed: - -“Looky yonder, Marse Joe! what dat gwine 'cross de Bermuda pastur'?” - -Across the brow of the hill slipped a tawny shadow--slipped across and -disappeared before Miss Carter could see it. - -“That's Old Sandy,” cried Joe; “now watch for Jonah!” - -Presently the hounds could be heard again, coming nearer and nearer. -Then a larger and a darker shadow sprang out of the woods and swept -across the pasture, moving swiftly and yet with the regularity of -machinery. At short intervals a little puff of vapor would rise from -this black shadow, and then the clear voice of Jonah would come ringing -over the valley. Then the rest of the dogs, a group of shadows, with -musical voices, swept across the Bermuda field. - -“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed Miss Carter, clapping her little hands. - -“Wait,” said Joe; “don't make any noise. He'll pass here, and go to -the fence yonder, and if he isn't scared to death you'll see a pretty -trick.” - -It was a wide circle the fox made after he passed through the Bermuda -field. He crossed the little stream that ran through the valley, skirted -a pine thicket, ran for a quarter of a mile along a plantation path, and -then turned and came down the fallow ground that lay between the creek -and the hill where Joe and Miss Carter, with Harbert, had taken their -stand. It was a comparatively level stretch of nearly a half-mile. The -old corn-rows ran lengthwise the field, and down one of these Old Sandy -came in full view of those who were waiting to see him pass. He was -running rapidly, but not at full speed, and, although his tongue was -hanging out, he was not distressed. Reaching the fence two hundred yards -away from the spectators, he clambered lightly to the top, sat down on -a rail and began to lick his fore-paws, stopping occasionally, with one -paw suspended in the air, to listen to the dogs. In a moment or two more -Jonah entered the field at the head of the valley. Old Sandy, carefully -balancing himself on the top rail of the fence, walked it for a hundred -yards or more, then gathering himself together sprang into the air and -fell in the broom-sedge fully twenty feet away from the fence. - -“Oh, I hope the dogs won't catch him!” exclaimed Miss Carter. “He surely -deserves to escape!” - -“He got sense like folks,” said Harbert. - -“He stayed on the fence too long. Just look at Jonah!” cried Joe. - -The hound came down the field like a whirlwind. He was running at least -thirty yards to the left of the furrow the fox had followed. - -“Why, he isn't following the track of the fox,” exclaimed Miss Carter. -“I thought hounds trailed foxes by the scent.” - -“They do,” said Joe, “but Jonah doesn't need to follow it as the other -dogs do. The dog that runs with his nose to the ground can never catch a -red fox.” - -“Isn't he beautiful!” cried the young lady, as Jonah rushed past, his -head up and his sonorous voice making music in the air. He topped the -fence some distance above the point where the fox had left it, lost the -trail, and made a sweeping circle to the right, increasing his speed as -he did so. Still at fault, he circled widely to the left, picked up the -drag a quarter of a mile from the fence, and pushed on more eagerly than -ever. The rest of the dogs had overrun the track at the point where the -fox had turned to enter the field, but they finally found it again, and -went by the spectators in fine style, running together very prettily. -At the fence they lost the trail, and for some minutes they were casting -about. One of the younger dogs wanted to take the back track, but -Harbert turned him around, and was about to set the pack right, when the -voice of Jonah was heard again, clear and ringing. Old Sandy, finding -himself hard pushed, had dropped flat in the grass and allowed the hound -to overrun him. Then he doubled, and started back. He gained but little, -but he was still game. Jonah whirled in a short circle, and was after -the fox almost instantly. Old Sandy seemed to know that this was his -last opportunity. With a marvelous burst of speed he plunged through the -belated dogs that were hunting for the lost drag, slipped through -the fence, and went back by the spectators like a flash. There was a -tremendous outburst of music from the dogs as they sighted him, and for -one brief moment Joe was afraid that Jonah would be thrown out. The next -instant the dog appeared on the fence, and there he sighted the fox. It -was then that the courage and speed of Jonah showed themselves. Nothing -could have stood up before him. Within a hundred yards he ran into the -fox. Realizing his fate, Old Sandy leaped into the air with a squall, -and the next moment the powerful jaws of Jonah had closed on him. - -[Illustration: 0216] - -By this time the rest of the hunters had come in sight. From a distance -they witnessed the catch. They saw the rush that Jonah made; they saw -Miss Carter and Joe Maxwell galloping forward; they saw the lad leap -from his horse and bend over the fox, around which the dogs were jumping -and howling; they saw him rise, with hat in hand, and present something -to his fair companion; and then they knew that the young lady would ride -home with Old Sandy's brush suspended from her saddle. - -These hunters came up after a while. Their horses were jaded, and the -riders themselves looked unhappy. - -“Did you notice which one of my dogs caught the fox?” asked the young -man to whom the pack belonged. - -“No, sir, I did not,” said Joe. - -“I declare that is too funny!” exclaimed Miss Carter, laughing merrily, -and then she went on to describe the chase as she saw it. The young man -smiled as though he thought it was all a joke, and that night he called -up Harbert, and offered him a dollar in Confederate money if he would -tell the truth about the matter. Harbert told him the truth, but it was -so unpleasant that the young man forgot all about the money, although a -dollar at that time was worth not more than twelve and a half cents. - -Miss Carter seemed to be almost as proud of Jonah's performance as Joe -was, and this made the lad feel very proud and happy. But, as they were -going home, an incident happened which, for the time, and for some days -afterward, drove all thoughts of Jonah and fox-hunting out of his mind. -The hunters went back the way they had come, and shortly after they -entered the public road they met a small procession that turned out to -be very interesting, especially to Joe. First, there was a spring wagon, -drawn by one horse and driven by a negro. On the seat with the negro, -and securely fastened with ropes, was Mr. John Pruitt, the deserter. -Behind the negro and Mr. Pruitt were two soldiers with guns, and three -soldiers mounted on horses, and armed, acted as escort. The young -officers who had been hunting with Joe Maxwell stopped the wagon and -made inquiries until they had satisfied their curiosity. Joe would -have spoken to Mr. Pruitt, but the latter, by an almost imperceptible -movement of the head, seemed to forbid it. His face was as serene as -if he had been on dress parade. As the wagon was about to move on, he -spoke: - -“Ain't that the young chap that works in the printin'-office down by -Phoenix school-house?” he asked, nodding his head toward Joe, without -looking at him. - -“Yes,” said one of the young officers. - -“Well, sir,” said Mr. Pruitt, drawing a long breath, “I wish you'd -please tell him to be so good ez to git word to my wife down in the -Yarberry settlement that I won't have a chance to come home in a week or -more, an' she'll hafter do the best she kin tell I git back.” - -Joe said he would be glad to do so. - -“I 'low'd he would,” said Mr. Pruitt, still speaking to the young -officer; “an' I'm mighty much erbliged.” - -Then the little procession moved on toward Hillsborough, and the hunters -went homeward. Miss Nellie Carter was very much interested. - -“He doesn't look a bit like a deserter,” she said, impulsively, “and -I'm sure there's some mistake. I don't believe a deserter could hold his -head up.” - -Joe then made bold to tell her what he had heard--that Mr. Pruitt and -several other soldiers had come home because they heard their families -were suffering for food. Miss Carter was very much interested, and -wanted to go with the lad to visit Mrs. Pruitt. - -“But I can't go,” said Joe; “there's nobody to do my work in the -printing-office. I'll send Mrs. Pruitt word to-night by some of the -negroes.” - -“No, no!” cried Miss Carter, “that will never do. I'll see my cousin -and tell him about it. You must go to-day, and I'll go with you. Oh, it -mustn't be postponed; you must go this very afternoon! Why, what is this -little newspaper you are printing out here in the woods? The woman may -be suffering.” - -Miss Carter saw her cousin, the editor, and lost no time in telling him -about Mr. Pruitt and his family. The editor, who was one of the best of -men, was so much interested that, instead of sending Joe with the young -lady, he went himself, taking in his buggy a stout hamper of provisions. -When they came back, Miss Carter's eyes were red, as if she had been -crying, and the editor looked very serious. - -“I'm very glad you didn't go,” he said to Joe, when Miss Carter had -disappeared in the house. - -“Was anybody dead?” asked Joe. - -“No,” replied the editor. “Oh, no; nothing so bad as that. But the woman -and her children have been in a terrible fix! I don't know who is to -blame for it, but I shall score the county officers and the Ladies' Aid -Society in the next paper. These people have been actually in a starving -condition, and they look worse than if they had gone through a spell -of fever. They are nothing but skin and bones. The main trouble is that -they live in such an out-of-the-way place. The house is a mile from the -public road, and hard to find.” - -“I heard,” said Joe, “that the provost-marshal had something to do with -holding back supplies that ought to have gone to Mr. Pruitt's family.” - -“How could he?” asked the editor; and then he added, quickly: “Why, -of course he could; he is in charge of everything. He is judge, jury, -lawyer, and general dictator. Who told you about it?” - -“I heard it in town,” said Joe. - -“Well, he's a mean rascal,” said the editor. He bade Joe good-evening, -and started in the house, but half-way up the steps he paused and called -to the lad. - -“Here's something I forgot to ask you about,” he said, taking a letter -from his pocket. “It is a note from Deo about you. What do you know -about Deo?” - -“About me?” said Joe. “I used to know Mr. Deo when I was a little boy.” - -“Well, you are not such a big boy now,” said the editor, smiling. “Here -is what Deo says: 'You have a boy working in your printing-office who -can make himself very useful in a good cause when the time comes. His -name is Joe Maxwell, and he is a very good friend of mine. At least he -used to be. Before long I shall send for him, and, whether I send in the -day or in the night, I want you to let him come. If I were to tell you -now what I want with him, you would laugh and say that all fat men are -foolish. What I want him to do can be done only by a woman or a boy. A -woman is not to be thought of, and I know of no boy I can trust except -Maxwell. Just give him your permission beforehand, so that there will be -no delay.' Now what do you think about it?” inquired the editor. - -“May I go?” asked Joe. - -“That is for you to decide,” said the editor. “I have been knowing -Deometari for nearly twenty years. He's a good lawyer and a clever man. -But, if you do go, be careful of yourself. Don't get into any trouble. -Tell Deo that all of us like you out here, and we don't want any -foolishness.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES - - -It was the very next afternoon that Joe Maxwell received the expected -summons from Mr. Deometari. The message was brought by a negro on a -mule, and the mule seemed to be very tired, although it had come only -nine miles. - -“I never is see no mule like dis,” said the negro, indignantly, as he -took a soiled letter from his hat and handed it to Joe. “I start from -town at two o'tlocks, an' here 'tis mos' night. I got me a stick an' I -hit 'er on one side, an' den she'd shy on t'er side de road, an' when I -hit 'er on dat side, she'd shy on dis side. She been gwine slonchways de -whole blessed way.” - -[Illustration: 0224] - -Mr. Deomatari's note had neither address nor signature, and it was very -brief. “Come at once,” it said. “You remember the retreat from Laurel -Hill and the otter? Come in by the jail and around by the Branham place. -If some one cries, 'Who goes there?' say, 'It is the Relief.'” - -Joe turned the note over and studied it. “Who gave you this?” he asked -the negro. - -“Dat chuffy-lookin' white man what stay dar at de tavern. He say you -mustn't wait for me, but des push on. Dem wuz his ve'y words--des push -on.” - -Joe had some trouble in getting away. The editor had gone off somewhere -in the plantation; and Butterfly, the horse he proposed to ride--the -horse he always rode--was in the pasture, and a colt in a plantation -pasture is as big a problem as a hard sum in arithmetic. The colt is -like the answer. It is there somewhere; but how are you going to get it, -and when? Harbert solved the problem after a while by cornering the colt -and catching him; but the sun was nearly down when Joe started, and -he then had nine miles to ride. Harbert, who was a sort of plantation -almanac, said there would be no moon until after midnight, and a mighty -small one then; but this made no difference to Joe Maxwell. Every -foot of the road was as familiar to him as it was to old Mr. Wall, the -hatter, who was in the habit of remarking that, if anybody would bring -him a hatful of gravel from the big road that led to Hillsborough, he'd -“up an' tell 'em right whar they scooped it up at.” Joe not only knew -the road well, but he was well mounted. Butterfly had all the faults Of -a colt except fear. He was high-spirited and nervous, but nothing seemed -to frighten him. When the lad started, Harbert ran on ahead to unlatch -the big plantation gate that opened on the public-road. - -“Good-night, Marse Joe,” said the negro. “I wish you mighty well.” - -“Good-night, Harbert,” responded Joe, as he went cantering into the -darkness. - -There was something more than a touch of fall in the evening air, and -Butterfly sprang forward eagerly, and chafed at the bit that held him -back. The short, sharp snorts that came from his quivering nostrils -showed the tremendous energy he had in reserve, and it was not until -he had gone a mile or more that he settled down into the long, swift, -sweeping gallop that seemed in the dim light to throw the trees and -fences behind him. At a cross-road Joe heard the tramp of horses and the -jingling of spurs and bridle-bits, but he never paused, and it was -not until long afterward he learned that he had come near forming the -acquaintance of Wilson's raiders, who were making their way back to -Atlanta. - -By the time the stars had come out, Joe could see the lights of -Hillsborough twinkling in the distance, and in a short time he had -turned into the back street that led by the jail and made way across the -town until he reached the square below the tavern. Then he turned to -the left, and was soon in front of Mr. Deometari's room. Boy-like, he was -secretly sorry that some sentinel had not challenged him on the way, -so that he could give the countersign. A muffled figure, sitting on the -edge of the veranda, roused itself as Joe rode up. - -“Where is Mr. Deometari?” the lad asked. - -“He in dar,” replied the figure. “Is you fum de plantation, sah?” - -“Yes.” - -“Den I'm to take yo' hoss,” the negro said. - -“Well, you must be careful with him,” said the lad. - -“Dat I will, suh, kaze Marse Deo say he gwine pay me, an' 'sides dat, I -stays at de liberty stable.” - -Joe saw his horse led away, and then he knocked at Mr. Deometari's door. - -“Come in!” cried that genial gentleman. - -“I'm here, sir,” said Joe, as he entered. - -“Why, my dear boy! so you are! and glad I am to see you. And you are on -time. I had just pulled out my watch, and said to myself, 'In one short -quarter of an hour the boy should be here, and I shall have his supper -ready for him.' And just then you knocked, and here is my watch still in -my hand. My dear boy, sit down and rest your bones. I feel better.” - -Mr. Deomatari had supper for Joe and himself brought to his room, and as -he ate he talked. - -“You are a clever chap,” said Mr. Deome-tari. “You don't know how clever -you are. No,” he went on, seeing a curious smile on Joe's face--“no, I'm -not making fun of you. I mean just what I say. Where is the boy in this -town who would have galloped through the dark on an errand that he knew -nothing of? I tell you, he is not to be found. But suppose he could be -found, wouldn't he bother me with ten thousand questions about what he -was expected to do, and how he was going to do it, and when, and which, -and what not? Now, I want to ask you why you came?” - -“Because you sent for me,” said Joe buttering another biscuit. “And -because I wanted to find out all about--” - -“All about what?” asked Mr. Deometari. - -“About Mr. Pruitt, and--everything.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Deometari, “I won't tell you precisely why I sent for -you--you'll find out for yourself; but one of the reasons is that I want -you to go with a little party of us to a point not far from your home. -You know the roads, and you know what the negroes call the short cuts.” - -“To-night?” asked Joe. - -“Yes, to-night. Not now, but a little later.” - -Joe ate his supper, and then sat gazing into the fire that had been -kindled on the hearth. - -“I was just thinking, Mr. Deo,” he said, after a while, “whether I ought -to go and see mother.” - -“Now that is the question.” Mr. Deometari drew his chair closer to the -lad, as if preparing to argue the matter. “Of course, you feel as if you -ought to go. That is natural. But, if you go, you will have to give your -mother some reason for being here. You could only tell her that I had -sent for you. This is such a poor reason that she would be uneasy. Don't -you think so?” - -“Well,” said Joe, after a pause, “I can come to see her next Sunday.” - -Rubbing his fat hands together, Mr. Deome-tari looked at Joe a long -time. He seemed to be meditating. The ring on his finger glistened like -a ray of sunlight that had been captured and was trying to escape. - -“I want to take you around,” he said to Joe after a while, “and -introduce you to Captain Johnson, our worthy provost-marshal.” - -“Me?” asked the lad, in a tone of astonishment. - -“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari. “Why not? A bright boy like you should be -acquainted with all our great military men. Our noble captain would be -very glad to see you if he knew as much about your visit as I do.” - -“But as it is,” said Joe, quickly, “he doesn't know any more about it -than I do.” - -“My dear boy,” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, in a bantering tone, “don't get -impatient. It is so very simple that all our plans might be spoiled if -I told you. Now, then,” he continued, looking at his watch, “if you are -ready, we will go. You have no overcoat, but my shawl here will answer -just as well.” - -Joe protested that he never wore an overcoat, even in the coldest -weather; but his protest had no effect on Mr. Deometari, who gave the -shawl a dexterous turn and wrapped Joe in it from head to heels. Then he -fastened it at the lad's throat with a long steel pin that had a handle -like a dagger. - -“Why, I look just like a girl,” said Joe, glancing down at his feet. - -“Very well, Miss Josephine,” laughed Mr. Deometari; “just take my arm.” - -The provost-marshal's office was on the opposite side of the public -square from the tavern, and Mr. Deometari, instead of following -the sidewalk, went through the court-house yard. There was not much -formality observed around the office. There was no sentinel stationed at -the door, which was opened (in response to Mr. Deometari's knock) by a -small negro boy. - -[Illustration: 0232] - -Down a little passage-way, or hall, Mr. Deometari went, followed by Joe. -A light shone from a door at the end of a passage on the left, and -into this door Mr. Deometari went without ceremony. There was not much -furniture in the room--four chairs, a lounge, and a table. A sword hung -on the wall, between lithograph portraits of General Lee and Stonewall -Jackson; and on one side was a long array of pigeonholes full of papers. -A man sat at the table, and he was so busily engaged in writing that he -nodded without looking up from his work. - -“Henderson,” said Mr. Deometari, “I have company to-night. I want you to -know this young man. His name is Joe Maxwell. He is an honorary member -of the Relief Committee.” - -At this Henderson wiped his pen on his head and laid it down. Then he -peered across the table at Joe. The two candles that gave him light were -so close to his eyes that they blinded him when he lifted his face. - -“Maxwell, did you say?--All right, Mr. Maxwell; I am glad to see you. -Excuse my hand; it is full of ink.” - -Mr. Henderson had a soft, gentle voice, and his hand, although it was -splashed with ink, was as delicate as that of a woman. - -“Is this the Mr. Henderson you were telling me about some time ago?” - asked Joe, turning to Mr. Deometari. “I mean the Mr. Henderson who was -sick when you retreated from Laurel Hill?” - -“The same,” said Mr. Deometari. - -Mr. Henderson laughed softly to hide his surprise, pushed his chair -back, and rose from his seat. Whatever he was going to say was left -unsaid. At that moment a knock that echoed down the hallway came on -the outer door, and it was followed almost immediately by the firm and -measured tread of some newcomer. Then there appeared in the doorway -the serene face of Mr. Archie Blandford. He glanced around the room -half-smiling until his eyes fell on Joe, and then the shadowy smile gave -place to an unmistakable frown. Joe saw it, and for the first time felt -that his position was a peculiar one, to say the least. He began to feel -very uncomfortable, and this feeling was not relieved by the curt nod of -recognition that Mr. Blandford gave him. He was a sensitive lad, and -it was not pleasant to realize that he was regarded as an intruder. He -looked at Mr. Deometari, but that gentleman seemed to be absorbed in a -study of the portraits on the wall. Mr. Blandford advanced a few steps -into the room, hesitated, and then said, abruptly: - -“Deo! let me see you a moment.” - -The two men went into the hall and as far as the outer door, and, -although they talked in subdued tones, the passage took the place of a -speaking-tube, and every word they uttered could be heard by Joe Maxwell -and Mr. Henderson. - -“Deo,” said Mr. Blandford, “what under the sun is Maxwell doing here? He -ought to be at home in bed.” - -“He is here,” Mr. Deometari explained, “at my invitation.” - -“But your reason must tell you, Deo, that that child ought not to be -mixed up in this night's business. It is almost certain to be serious.” - -“That is precisely the reason he is here,” said Mr. Deometari. “I might -preach to you from now until doomsday, and you'd never lis-ten to me. -But, with that boy looking at you, you'll keep your temper. I know you -better than you know yourself. You came here tonight with your mind made -up to do something rash. I read it in your face last night; I saw it in -your eyes this morning; I hear it in your voice now. My dear fellow, it -will never do in the world. You would ruin everything. What you intended -to do, you won't dare to do with that boy looking at you. And there's -another reason: if this man Johnson is to be taken out of the county, -the best route is by Armour's Ferry, and Maxwell knows every foot of the -road.” - -Then there was a pause, and Mr. Henderson went to the door and said; - -“You two might as well come in here and have it out. We can hear every -word you say.” - -They came back into the room, Mr. Bland-ford smiling, and Mr. Deometari -a little flushed. - -“I forgot to shake hands with you just now,” said Mr. Blandford, going -over to Joe and seizing the lad's hand. “It wasn't because I don't like -you.” - -“Thank you,” replied Joe. “I don't understand what you and Mr. Deo were -talking about, but I don't wan't to be in the way.” - -“You are not in the way at all,” said Mr. Deometari, emphatically. - -“I should say not,” exclaimed Mr. Blandford, heartily. “Deo is right and -I was wrong. I'd be happy if I wasn't in anybody's way any more than you -are. You'll find out when you grow bigger that a man never gets too old -to be a fool.” With that he reached under his overcoat and unbuckled a -heavy pistol, and placed it on the mantel.--“You see,” he said to Mr. -Deometari, “I am making a complete surrender. I don't want to have -that gun where I can get my hands on it when I see our friend Captain -Johnson.” - -“You may buckle on your pistol,” remarked Mr. Henderson, softly. “You -won't see the captain to-night.” - -“Thunderation!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, springing to his feet. “We must -see him! Pruitt is in the guard-house. Sick or well, Captain Johnson -must travel with us this night. I don't want him killed or hurt, but the -scoundrel shall strut around this town no more.” - -“It's just as I tell you,” said Henderson, in his gentle way; “you'll -not see him to-night.” - -Mr. Blandford laughed, as though he regarded the matter as a joke, -while Mr. Henderson began to fumble among some papers on the table. He -selected from these three little documents, which he spread out before -him, one on the other. Then he looked at the other two men and smiled. - -“Tom,” said Mr. Deometari, “this is a very serious matter. You know this -man Johnson as well as we do, and you know that the time has come to get -rid of him.” - -“I know him a great deal better than either of you,” said Mr. Henderson, -still smiling, “and that is the reason he's not here to-night. That is -the reason you won't see him.” - -Mr. Deometari paced back and forth on the floor, pulling his whiskers, -while Mr. Blandford drummed impatiently on the table. - -“The trouble is,” Mr. Henderson went on, still addressing Mr. Deometari, -“that we are both afraid of Archie Blandford's temper.” - -“Now, just listen at that!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford. “Why, you'll make -this chap here think I'm vicious. He'll believe I'm a man-eater.” - -“We both know how he feels toward Captain Johnson,” Mr. Henderson -continued, not heeding the interruption, “and we have both been trying -to prevent him from doing anything he might regret. I think your plan -would have succeeded; and I'm glad you brought Maxwell, anyhow, because -I like to meet a bright boy once in a while; but my plan is the best, -after all, for Captain Johnson is gone.” - -Mr. Deometari stopped walking the floor, and sat down. “Tell us about -it.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Henderson, “here is some correspondence that came to -Captain Johnson through the post-office. There are three letters. We -will call this number one: - -“'Sir: It has been noticed that you have refused to forward supplies -intended for the wives and children of Confederate soldiers. -This refers especially to the wife and children of one John Pruitt.'” - -“There is no signature,” said Mr. Henderson. “This”--taking up another -document--“we will call number two.” - -“'Sir: It is known that no supplies have left this post for the wife and -children of one John Pruitt. Will the Relief Committee have to act? - -“Here,” continued Mr. Henderson, “is the last. It is number three: - -“'Sir: John Pruitt is in jail, where he can not help himself. The Relief -Committee will meet to-morrow night. Hold yourself in readiness to hear -again the story of the retreat from Laurel Hill.'” - -“Well?” said Mr. Deometari, as Mr. Henderson paused. - -“Well, the man was worried nearly to death. He was in a continual -fidget. At last he came to me and talked the matter over. That was -yesterday. We went over the Laurel Hill incidents together, and I used -Archie Blandford's name pretty freely. The upshot of it was that I -advised Captain Johnson to report to the commander of the post in Macon, -and he took my advice.” - -“Do I look like a dangerous man?” asked Mr. Blandford, turning to Joe. - -“Not now,” replied Joe. “But your eyes are very bright.” - -“I wish to goodness they were as bright as yours!” said Mr. Blandford, -laughing. - -“So we've had all our trouble for nothing,” Mr. Deometari suggested. - -“Oh, no,” said Mr. Henderson; “we've been saved a great deal of trouble. -Johnson is gone, and I have here an order for Pruitt's release.” - -“If we had known all this,” remarked Mr. Deometari, “Maxwell would be -safe in bed, where I suspect he ought to be.--My son,” he went on, “it -is a pity to have you riding back and forth in the night.” - -“Just to please a fat man with the whimsies,” Mr. Blandford observed. - -“Oh, it is no trouble to me,” Joe protested. “It is almost like a book, -only I don't exactly understand it all. What were you going to do with -Captain Johnson?” - -“Me? oh, I--well, the fact is, Deo was commanding my regiment to-night,” - replied Mr. Blandford. He seemed to be embarrassed. - -“It is all very simple,” said Mr. Deometari. - -“When you get a little older you'll find a great many people like -Captain Johnson. He had a little power, and he has used it so as to turn -all the people here against him. Another trouble is, that he used to -belong to the regulars, where the discipline is as strict as it can be. -He has tried to be too strict here, and these Confederate people won't -stand it. The private soldier thinks he is as good as a commissioned -officer, and sometimes better. A provost-marshal is a sort of military -chief of police, and, when his commander is as far away as Macon, he -can do a good deal of harm, especially if he has a streak of meanness -running through him. Johnson has made enemies here by the hundred. Worst -of all, he has treated the wives of soldiers very badly. You know all -about his spite at John Pruitt. We were going to take him to-night to -Armour's Ferry, put him across the river, and give him to understand -that we could get along without him.” - -“And he would never come back?” asked Joe. - -“No,” said Mr. Deometari, “he would never come back.” - -“Was Mr. Blandford very mad with him?” inquired the lad. - -“Yes, I was,” that gentleman admitted, laughing a little and looking -uncomfortable. “He had me arrested once, and tried to make me shovel -sand into a barrel that was open at both ends. What do you think of -that?” - -“I think it must have been very funny,” said Joe, laughing heartily. - -“I reckon it was funny,” observed Mr. Bland-ford, grimly, “but the -rascal wouldn't have enjoyed the fun if it hadn't been for this big fat -man here.” - -“You are not referring to me, I hope,” said Mr. Henderson, so seriously -that the rest burst out laughing. - -“Come, now,” Mr. Deometari suggested. “Let's let in some fresh air on -poor John Pruitt.” - -There was nothing more to be done after Mr. Pruitt was released from -the guard-house, and so Joe mounted his horse and cantered off to the -plantation. Butterfly was very glad to have his head turned in that -direction, and he went so swiftly that in the course of an hour Joe was -at home and in bed. His mind was so full of what he had seen and heard -that he went over it all in his slumber. Mr. Deometari, chunky as he -was, took the place of Porthos, the big musketeer; Mr. Blandford was -D'Artagnan; Mr. Henderson was the sleek and slender one (Aramis) whose -name Joe could not remember in his dreams; and even Mr. Pruitt grew into -a romantic figure. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -Somehow, after Joe Maxwell's experience with Mr. Deometari, Mr. -Blandford, and the rest, events of importance seemed to follow each -other more rapidly. Some of them were surprising, and all confusing. It -was in the month of July that Atlanta was taken by General Sherman. -A few weeks afterward, Harbert, while cleaning and oiling the old -Washington No. 2 hand-press in _The Countryman_ office, told Joe that -the Federal army would come marching through the county before long. - -“Who told you?” asked Joe. - -“De word done come,” replied Harbert “Hit bleeze ter be so, kaze all -de niggers done hear talk un it. We-all will wake up some er deze -odd-come-shorts an' fin' de Yankees des a-swarmin' all 'roun' here.” - -“What are you going to do?” Joe inquired, laughing. - -“Oh, you kin laugh, Marse Joe, but deyer comin'. What I g wine do? Well, -suh, I'm gwine ter git up an' look at um, an' may be tip my hat ter some -er de big-bugs 'mongst um, an' den I'm gwine on 'bout my business. I -don't speck deyer gwine ter bodder folks what don't bodder dem, is dey?” - -Joe had forgotten this conversation until it was recalled to his mind -one morning shortly after his night ride to Hillsborough. General -Sherman had swung loose from Atlanta, and was marching down through -middle Georgia. The people that Joe saw went about with anxious faces, -and even the negroes were frightened. - -[Illustration: 0246] - -Before this vast host all sorts of rumors fled, carrying fear and -consternation to the peaceful plantations. At last, one cold, drizzly -day in November, Joe Maxwell, trudging along the road on his way to the -printing-office, heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and two horsemen -in blue came galloping along. They reined up their horses, and inquired -the distance to Hillsborough, and then went galloping on again. They -were couriers carrying dispatches from the Twentieth Army Corps to -General Sherman. - -There was hurrying to and fro on the plantation after this. The horses -and mules were driven to a remote field in which there was a large -swamp. Joe carried Butterfly and tethered him in the very middle of the -swamp, where he could get plenty of water to drink and young cane -to eat. During the next ten hours the plantation, just as Harbert -predicted, fairly swarmed with foraging parties of Federals. Guided by -some of the negroes, they found the horses and mules and other stock and -drove them off; and, when Joe heard of it, he felt like crying over the -loss of Butterfly. The horse did not belong to him, but he had trained -it from a colt, and it was his whenever he wanted to use it, day or -night. Yet Butterfly was soon forgotten in the excitement and confusion -created by the foragers, who swept through the plantations, levying -in the name of war on the live-stock, and ransacking the not too -well-filled smoke-houses and barns in search of supplies. - -Joe Maxwell saw a good deal of these foragers, and he found them all, -with one exception, to be good-humored. The exception was a German, who -could scarcely speak English enough to make himself understood. This -German, when he came to the store-room where the hats were kept, wanted -to take off as many as his horse could carry, and he became very angry -when Joe protested. He grew so angry, in fact, that he would have fired -the building. He lit a match, drew together a lot of old papers and -other rubbish, and was in the act of firing it, when an officer ran in -and gave him a tremendous paddling with the flat of his sword. It was -an exhibition as funny as a scene in the circus, and Joe enjoyed it -as thoroughly as he could under the circumstances. By night, all the -foragers had disappeared. - -[Illustration: 0249] - -The army had gone into camp at Denham's Mill, and Joe supposed that it -would march on to Hillsborough, but in this he was mistaken. It turned -sharply to the left the next morning and marched toward Milledgeville. -Joe had aimlessly wandered along this road, as he had done a hundred -times before, and finally seated himself on the fence near an old -school-house, and began to whittle on a rail. Before he knew it the -troops were upon him. He kept his seat, and the Twentieth Army Corps, -commanded by General Slocum, passed in review before him. It was an -imposing array as to numbers, but not as to appearance! For once and for -all, so far as Joe was concerned, the glamour and romance of war were -dispelled. The skies were heavy with clouds, and a fine, irritating -mist sifted down. The road was more than ankle-deep in mud, and even -the fields were boggy. There was nothing gay about this vast procession, -with its tramping soldiers, its clattering horsemen, and its lumbering -wagons, except the temper of the men. They splashed through the mud, -cracking their jokes and singing snatches of songs. - -Joe Maxwell, sitting on the fence, was the subject of many a jest, as -the good-humored men marched by. - -“Hello, Johnny! Where's your parasol?” - -“Jump down, Johnny, and let me kiss you good-by!” - -“Johnny, if you are tired, get up behind and ride!” - -“Run and get your trunk, Johnny, and get aboard!” - -“He's a bushwhacker, boys. If he bats his eyes, I'm a-goin' to dodge!” - -“Where's the rest of your regiment, Johnny?” - -“If there was another one of 'em a-settin' on the fence, on t'other -side, I'd say we was surrounded!” - -These and hundreds of other comments, exclamations, and questions, Joe -was made the target of; and, if he stood the fire of them with unusual -calmness, it was because this huge panorama seemed to him to be the -outcome of some wild dream. That the Federal army should be plunging -through that peaceful region, after all he had seen in the newspapers -about Confederate victories, seemed to him to be an impossibility. The -voices of the men, and their laughter, sounded vague and insubstantial. -It was surely a dream that had stripped war of its glittering' trappings -and its flying banners. It was surely the distortion of a dream that -tacked on to this procession of armed men droves of cows, horses, and -mules, and wagon-loads of bateaux! Joe had read of pontoon bridges, but -he had never heard of a pontoon train, nor did he know that bateaux were -a part of the baggage of this invading army. - -But it all passed after a while, and then Joe discovered that he had -not been dreaming at all. He jumped from the fence and made his way home -through the fields. Never before, since its settlement, had such peace -and quiet reigned on the plantation. The horses and mules were gone, and -many of the negro cabins were empty. Harbert was going about as busy as -ever, and some of the older negroes were in their accustomed places, but -the younger ones, especially those who, by reason of their fieldwork, -had not been on familiar terms with their master and mistress, had -followed the Federal army. Those that remained had been informed by the -editor that they were free; and so it happened, in the twinkling of an -eye, that the old things had passed away and all was new. - -In a corner of the fence, not far from the road, Joe found an old -negro woman shivering and moaning. Near her lay an old negro man, his -shoulders covered with an old ragged shawl. “Who is that lying there?” - asked Joe. - -“It my ole man, suh.” - -“What is the matter with him?” - -“He dead, suh! But, bless God, he died free!” * - -It was a pitiful sight, and a pitiable ending of the old couple's dream -of freedom. Harbert and the other negroes buried the old man, and the -old woman was made comfortable in one of the empty cabins; she never -ceased to bless “little marster,” as she called Joe, giving him all the -credit for everything that was done for her. Old as she was, she and -her husband had followed the army for many a weary mile on the road to -freedom. The old man found it in the fence corner, and a few weeks later -the old woman found it in the humble cabin. - -The next morning, as Joe Maxwell was loitering around the -printing-office, talking to the editor, Butterfly came galloping up, -ridden by Mink, who was no longer a runaway. - - * This incident has had many adaptations. It occurred just - as it is given here, and was published afterward in _The - Countryman_. - -“I seed you put 'im out in de swamp dar, Mars' Joe, an' den I seed some -er de yuther niggers gwine dar long wid dem Yankee mens, an' I say ter -myse'f dat I better go dar an' git 'im; so I tuck 'im down on de river, -an' here he is. He mayn't be ez fatez he wuz, but he des ez game ez he -yever is been.” - -Joe was pleased, and the editor was pleased; and it happened that Mink -became one of the tenants on the plantation, and after a while he bought -a little farm of his own, and prospered and thrived. - -But this is carrying a simple chronicle too far. It can not be spun out -here and now so as to show the great changes that have been wrought--the -healing of the wounds of war; the lifting up of a section from ruin -and poverty to prosperity; the molding of the beauty, the courage, -the energy, and the strength of the old civilization into the new; the -gradual uplifting of a lowly race. All these things can not be told of -here. The fire burns low, and the tale is ended. - -The plantation newspaper was issued a little while longer, but in a land -filled with desolation and despair its editor could not hope to see it -survive. A larger world beckoned to Joe Maxwell, and he went out into -it. And it came about that on every side he found loving hearts to -comfort him and strong and friendly hands to guide him. He found new -associations and formed new ties. In a humble way he made a name for -himself, but the old plantation days still live in his dreams. - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - -***** This file should be named 50701-0.txt or 50701-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/7/0/50701/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/50701-0.zip b/old/50701-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 824e840..0000000 --- a/old/50701-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/50701-h.zip b/old/50701-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a1a181b..0000000 --- a/old/50701-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/50701-h/50701-h.htm b/old/50701-h/50701-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 054e50b..0000000 --- a/old/50701-h/50701-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6311 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <title> - On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: On the Plantation - A Story of a Georgia Boy’s Adventures during the War - -Author: Joel Chandler Harris - -Illustrator: E. W. Kemble - -Release Date: December 15, 2015 [EBook #50701] -Last Updated: May 24, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - ON THE PLANTATION - </h1> - <h3> - A Story Of A Georgia Boy’s Adventures During The War - </h3> - <h2> - By Joel Chandler Harris - </h2> - <h4> - Author Of Uncle Remus - </h4> - <h3> - With Twenty-Three Illustrations By E. W. Kemble - </h3> - <h4> - New York - </h4> - <h4> - D. Appleton And Company - </h4> - <h3> - 1892 - </h3> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0012.jpg" alt="0012 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0012.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - JOSEPH ADDISON TURNER - </h3> - <h3> - LAWYER, EDITOR, SCHOLAR, PLANTER, - </h3> - <h3> - AND PHILANTHROPIST THIS MIXTURE - </h3> - <h3> - OF FACT AND FICTION IS INSCRIBED - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—TRACKING A RUNAWAY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—SHADOWS OF THE WAR </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—MR. WALL’S STORY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE OWL AND THE BIRDS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—OLD ZIP COON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—SOMETHING ABOUT “SANDY-CLAUS” - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE STORY-TELLERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—THE RELIEF COMMITTEE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—A NIGHT’S ADVENTURES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—THE CURTAIN FALLS </a> - </p> - -<p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - <h2> - CHAPTER I—JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he post-office in - the middle Georgia village of Hillsborough used to be a queer little - place, whatever it is now. It was fitted up in a cellar; and the - postmaster, who was an enterprising gentleman from Connecticut, had - arranged matters so that those who went after their letters and papers - could at the same time get their grocery supplies. - </p> - <p> - Over against the wall on one side was a faded green sofa. It was not an - inviting seat, for in some places the springs peeped through, and one of - its legs was broken, giving it a suspicious tilt against the wall. But a - certain little boy found one corner of the rickety old sofa a very - comfortable place, and he used to curl up there nearly every day, reading - such stray newspapers as he could lay hands on, and watching the people - come and go. - </p> - <p> - To the little boy the stock of goods displayed for sale was as curious in - its variety as the people who called day after day for the letters that - came or that failed to come. To some dainty persons the mingled odor of - cheese, cam-phene, and mackerel would have been disagreeable; but Joe - Maxwell—that was the name of the little boy—had a healthy - disposition and a strong stomach, and he thought the queer little - post-office was one of the pleasantest places in the world. - </p> - <p> - A partition of woodwork and wire netting cut off the post-office and the - little stock of groceries from the public at large, but outside of that - was an area where a good many people could stand and wait for their - letters. In one corner of this area was the rickety green sofa, and round - about were chairs and boxes and barrels on which tired people could rest - themselves. - </p> - <p> - The Milledgeville papers had a large circulation in the county. They were - printed at the capital of the State, and were thought to be very important - on that account. They had so many readers in the neighborhood that the - postmaster, in order to save time and trouble, used to pile them up on a - long shelf outside the wooden partition, where each subscriber could help - himself. Joe Maxwell took advantage of this method, and on Tuesdays, when - the Milledgeville papers arrived, he could always be found curled up in - the corner of the old green sofa reading the <i>Recorder</i> and the <i>Federal - Union</i>. What he found in those papers to interest him it would be hard - to say. They were full of political essays that were popular in those - days, and they had long reports of political conventions and meetings from - all parts of the State. They were papers for grown people, and Joe Maxwell - was only twelve years old, and small for his age. - </p> - <p> - There was another place that Joe found it pleasant to visit, and that was - a lawyer’s office in one of the rooms of the old tavern that looked out on - the pillared veranda. It was a pleasant place to him, not because it was a - law-office, but because it was the office of a gentleman who was very - friendly to the youngster. The gentleman’s name was Mr. Deometari, and Joe - called him Mr. Deo, as did the other people of Hillsborough. He was fat - and short and wore whiskers, which gave him a peculiar appearance at that - time. All the rest of the men that Joe knew wore either a full beard or a - mustache and an imperial. For that reason Mr. Deometari’s whiskers were - very queer-looking. He was a Greek, and there was a rumor among the people - about town that he had been compelled to leave his country on account of - his politics. Joe never knew until long afterward that politics could be a - crime. He thought that politics consisted partly in newspaper articles - signed “Old Subscriber” and “Many Citizens” and “Vox Populi” and - “Scrutator,” and partly in arguments between the men who sat in fine - weather on the dry-goods boxes under the china-trees. But there was a - mystery about Mr. Deometari, and it pleased the lad to imagine all sorts - of romantic stories about the fat lawyer. Although Mr. Deometari was a - Greek, there was no foreign twang to his tongue. Only as close an observer - as the boy could have told from his talk that he was a foreigner. He was a - good lawyer and a good speaker, and all the other lawyers seemed to like - him. They enjoyed his company so well that it was only occasionally that - Joe found him in his office alone. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0026.jpg" alt="0026 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0026.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Once Mr. Deometari took from his closet a military uniform and put it on. - Joe Maxwell thought it was the most beautiful uniform he had ever seen. - Gold braid ran down the sides of the trousers, gold cords hung loosely on - the breast of the coat, and a pair of tremendous epaulets surmounted the - shoulders. The hat was something like the hats Joe had seen in - picture-books. It was caught up at the sides with little gold buttons, and - trimmed with a long black feather that shone like a pigeon’s breast. Fat - as Mr. Deometari was, the lad thought he looked very handsome in his fine - uniform. This was only one incident. In his room, which was a large one, - Mr. Deometari had boxes packed with books, and he gave Joe leave to - ransack them. Many of the volumes were in strange tongues, but among them - were some quaint old English books, and these the lad relished beyond - measure. After a while Mr. Deometari closed his office and went away to - the war. - </p> - <p> - It would not be fair to say that Joe was a studious lad. On the contrary, - he was of an adventurous turn of mind, and he was not at all fond of the - books that were in his desk at Hillsborough Academy. He was full of all - sorts of pranks and capers, and there were plenty of people in the little - town ready to declare that he would come to some bad end if he was not - more frequently dosed with what the old folks used to call hickory oil. - Some of Joe Maxwell’s pranks were commonplace, but others were ingenious - enough to give him quite a reputation for humor, and one prank in - particular is talked of by the middle-aged people of Hillsborough to this - day. - </p> - <p> - The teacher of the academy had organized a military company among the - pupils—it was just about the time when rumors and hints of war had - begun to take shape—and a good deal of interest was felt in the - organization, especially by the older boys. Of this company Joe Maxwell - was the fourth corporal, a position which gave him a place at the foot of - the company. The Hillsborough Cadets drilled every school-day, and - sometimes on Saturdays, and they soon grew to be very proud of their - proficiency. - </p> - <p> - At last, after a good deal of manoeuvring on the playgrounds and in the - public square, the teacher, who was the captain, concluded that the boys - had earned a vacation, and it was decided that the company should go into - camp for a week on the Oconee River, and fish and hunt and have a good - time generally. The boys fairly went wild when the announcement was made, - and some of them wanted to hug the teacher, who had hard work to explain - that an attempt of this sort was not in accord with military tactics or - discipline. - </p> - <p> - All the arrangements were duly made. Tents were borrowed from the - Hillsborough Rifles, and the drum corps of that company was hired to make - music. A half-dozen wagons carried the camp outfit and the small boys, - while the larger ones marched. It was an entirely new experience for Joe - Maxwell, and he enjoyed it as only a healthy and high-spirited boy could - enjoy it. The formal and solemn way in which the guard was mounted was - very funny to him, and the temptation to make a joke of it was too strong - to be resisted. - </p> - <p> - The tents were pitched facing each other, with the officers’ tent at the - head of the line thus formed. At the other end of the lane and a little to - the rear was the baggage-tent, in which the trunks, boxes, and - commissaries were stored. Outside of all, the four sentinels marched up - and down. The tents were pitched in an old field that was used as a - pasture, and Joe noticed during the afternoon two mules and a horse - browsing around. He noticed, too, that these animals were very much - disturbed, especially when the drums began to beat, and that their - curiosity would not permit them to get very far from the camp, no matter - how frightened they were. - </p> - <p> - It happened that one of Joe’s messmates was to go on guard duty at twelve - o’clock that night. He was a fat, awkward, good-natured fellow, this - messmate, and a heavy sleeper, too, so that, when the corporal of the - guard undertook to arouse him, all the boys in the tent were awakened. All - except Joe quickly went to sleep again, but this enterprising youngster - quietly put on his clothes, and, in the confusion of changing the guard, - slipped out of the lines and hid in a convenient gully not far from the - camp. - </p> - <p> - It was his intention to worry if not to frighten his messmate, and while - he lay there trying to think out the best plan to pursue, he heard the - horse and mules trampling and snorting not very far off. Their curiosity - was not yet satisfied, and they seemed to be making their way toward the - camp for the purpose of reconnoitering. - </p> - <p> - Joe’s mind was made up in an instant. - </p> - <p> - He slipped down the gully until the animals were between him and the camp, - and then, seizing a large pine brush that happened to be lying near, he - sprang toward them. The mules and horse were ripe for a stampede. The camp - itself was an object of suspicion, and this attack from an unexpected - quarter was too much for them. Snorting with terror they rushed in the - direction of the tents. The sleepy sentinel, hearing them coming, fired - his gun in the air and ran yelling into the camp, followed by the horse - and one of the mules. The other mule shied to the right when the gun was - fired, and ran into the baggage-tent. There was a tremendous rattle and - clatter of boxes, pots, pans, and crockery ware. The mule, crazed with - fright, made a violent effort to get through the tent, but it caught him - in some way. Finally, the ropes that held it down gave way, and the mule, - with the tent flapping and flopping on his back, turned and rushed through - the camp. To all but Joe Maxwell it was a horrifying sight. Many of the - boys, as the saying is, “took to the woods,” and some of them were - prostrated with fright. These were consequences that Joe had not counted - on, and it was a long time before he confessed to his share in the night’s - sport. The results reached further than the camp. In another part of the - plantation the negroes were holding a revival meeting in the open air, - preaching and shouting and singing. Toward this familiar scene the mule - made his way, squealing, braying, and kicking, the big white tent flopping - on his back. As the terrified animal circled around the place, the negroes - cried out that Satan had come, and the panic that ensued among them is not - easily described. Many thought that the apparition was the ushering in of - the judgment-day, while by far the greater number firmly believed that the - “Old Boy” himself was after them. The uproar they made could be plainly - heard at the camp, more than a mile away—shrieks, screams, yells, - and cries for mercy. After it was all over, and Joe Maxwell had crept - quietly to bed, the thought came to him that it was not such a fine joke, - after all, and he lay awake a long time repenting the night’s work. He - heard the next day that nobody had been hurt and that no serious damage - had been done, but it was many weeks before he forgave himself for his - thoughtless prank. - </p> - <p> - Although Joe was fond of fun, and had a great desire to be a clown in a - circus or to be the driver of a stage-coach—just such a red and - yellow coach, with “U. S. M.” painted on its doors, as used to carry - passengers and the mails between Hillsborough and Rockville—he never - permitted his mind to dwell on these things. He knew very well that the - time would soon come when he would have to support his mother and himself. - This thought used to come to him again and again when he was sitting in - the little post-office, reading the Milledgeville papers. - </p> - <p> - It so happened that these papers grew very interesting to both old and - young as the days went by. The rumors of war had developed into war - itself. In the course of a few months two companies of volunteers had gone - to Virginia from Hillsborough, and the little town seemed to be lonelier - and more deserted than ever. Joe Maxwell noticed, as he sat in the - post-office, that only a very few old men and ladies came after the - letters and papers, and he missed a great many faces that used to smile at - him as he sat reading, and some of them he never saw again. He noticed, - too, that when there had been a battle or a skirmish the ladies and young - girls came to the post-office more frequently. When the news was very - important, one of the best-known citizens would mount a chair or a - dry-goods box and read the telegrams aloud to the waiting and anxious - group of people, and sometimes the hands and the voice of the reader - trembled. - </p> - <p> - One day while Joe Maxwell was sitting in the post-office looking over the - Milledgeville papers, his eye fell on an advertisement that interested him - greatly. It seemed to bring the whole world nearer to him. The - advertisement set forth the fact that on next Tuesday the first number of - <i>The Countryman</i>, a weekly paper would be published. It would be - modeled after Mr. Addison’s little paper, the <i>Spectator</i>, Mr. - Goldsmith’s little paper, the <i>Bee</i>, and Mr. Johnson’s little paper, - the <i>Rambler</i>. It would be edited by J. A. Turner, and it would be - issued on the plantation of the editor, nine miles from Hillsborough. Joe - read this advertisement over a dozen times, and it was with a great deal - of impatience that he waited for the next Tuesday to come. - </p> - <p> - But the day did come, and with it came the first issue of <i>The - Countryman</i>. Joe read it from beginning to end, advertisements and all, - and he thought it was the most entertaining little paper he had ever seen. - Among the interesting things was an announcement by the editor that he - wanted a boy to learn the printing business. Joe borrowed pen and ink and - some paper from the friendly postmaster, and wrote a letter to the editor, - saying that he would be glad to learn the printing business. The letter - was no doubt an awkward one, but it served its purpose, for when the - editor of <i>The Countryman</i> came to Hillsborough he hunted Joe up, and - told him to get ready to go to the plantation. The lad, not without some - misgivings, put away his tops and marbles, packed his little belongings in - an old-fashioned trunk, kissed his mother and his grandmother good-by, and - set forth on what, turned out to be the most important journey of his - life. - </p> - <p> - Sitting in the buggy by the side of the editor and publisher of <i>The - Countryman</i>, Joe Maxwell felt lonely indeed, and this feeling was - increased as he went through the little town and heard his schoolmates, - who were at their marbles on the public square, bidding him good-by. - </p> - <p> - He could hardly keep back his tears at this, but, on looking around after - the buggy had gone a little way, he saw his friends had returned to their - marbles, and the thought struck him that he was already forgotten. Many - and many a time after that he thought of his little companions and how - quickly they had returned to their marbles. - </p> - <p> - The editor of <i>The Countryman</i> must have divined what was passing in - the lad’s mind (he was a quick-witted man and a clever one, too), for he - tried to engage in conversation with Joe. But the boy preferred to nurse - his loneliness, and would only talk when he was compelled to answer a - question. Finally, the editor asked him if he would drive, and this Joe - was glad enough to do, for there is some diversion in holding the reins - over a spirited horse. The editor’s horse was a large gray, named Ben - Bolt, and he was finer than any of the horses that Joe had seen at the - livery-stable. Feeling a new and an unaccustomed touch on the reins, Ben - Bolt made an effort to give a new meaning to his name by bolting sure - enough. The road was level and hard, and the horse ran rapidly for a - little distance; but Joe Maxwell’s arms were tough, and before the horse - had gone a quarter of a mile the lad had him completely under control. - </p> - <p> - “You did that very well,” said the editor, who was familiar with Ben - Bolt’s tricks. “I didn’t know that little boys in town could drive - horses.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sometimes they can,” replied Joe. “If he had been scared, I think I - should have been scared myself; but he was only playing. He has been tied - at the rack all day, and he must be hungry.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the editor, “he is hungry, and he wants to see his mate, Rob - Roy.” - </p> - <p> - Then the editor, in a fanciful way, went on to talk about Ben Bolt and Rob - Roy, as if they were persons instead of horses; but it did not seem - fanciful to Joe, who had a strange sympathy with animals of all kinds, - especially horses and dogs. It pleased him greatly to think that he had - ideas in common with a grown man, who knew how to write for the papers; - and if the editor was talking to make Joe forget his loneliness he - succeeded admirably, for the lad thought no more of the boys who had so - quickly returned to their marbles, but only of his mother, whom he had - last seen standing at the little gate smiling at him through her tears. - </p> - <p> - As they drove along the editor pointed out a little log-cabin near the - road. - </p> - <p> - “That,” said he, “is where the high sheriff of the county lives. Do you - know Colonel John B. Stith?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Joe replied; “but I thought he lived in a large, fine house. I - don’t see how he can get in at that door yonder.” - </p> - <p> - “What makes you think he is too big for the door?” asked the editor. - </p> - <p> - “Why, the way he goes on,” said Joe, with the bluntness of youth. “He is - always in town talking politics, and he talks bigger than anybody.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0038.jpg" alt="0038 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0038.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Well,” said the editor, laughing, “that is his house. When you get a - little older you’ll find people who are more disappointing than the high - sheriff. Boys are sometimes too big for their breeches, I’ve heard said, - but this is the first time I ever heard that a man could be too big for - his house. That is a good one on the colonel.” - </p> - <p> - Ben Bolt trotted along steadily and rapidly, but after a while dusk fell, - and then the stars came out. Joe peered ahead, trying to make out the - road. - </p> - <p> - “Just let the horse have his way,” said the editor. “He knows the road - better than I do”; and it seemed to be so, for, when heavy clouds from the - west came up and hid the stars, and only the darkness was visible, Ben - Bolt trotted along as steadily as ever. He splashed through Crooked Creek, - walked up the long hill, and then started forward more rapidly than ever. - </p> - <p> - “It is a level road, now,” the editor remarked, “and Ben Bolt is on the - home-stretch.” - </p> - <p> - In a little while he stopped before a large gate. It was opened in a jiffy - by some one who seemed to be waiting. - </p> - <p> - “Is that you, Harbert?” asked the editor. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, marster.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I want you to take Mr. Maxwell here to Mr. Snelson’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Yasser,” responded the negro. - </p> - <p> - “Snelson is the foreman of the printing-office,” the editor explained to - Joe, “and for the present you are to board with him. I hope he will make - things pleasant for you. Goodnight.” - </p> - <p> - To the lonely lad it seemed a long journey to Mr. Sneison’s—through - wide plantation gates, down narrow lanes, along a bit of public road, and - then a plunge into the depths of a great wood, where presently a light - gleamed through. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll hail ’em,” said Harbert, and he sent before him into the darkness a - musical halloo, whereupon, as promptly as its echo, came a hearty response - from the house, with just the faintest touch of the Irish brogue in the - voice. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, and it’s the young man! Jump right down and come in to the warmth of - the fire. There’s something hot on the hearth, where it’s waiting you.” - </p> - <p> - And so Joe Maxwell entered on a new life—a life as different as - possible from that which he had left behind in Hillsborough. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he printing-office - was a greater revelation to Joe Maxwell than it would be to any of the - youngsters who may happen to read this. It was a very small affair; the - type was old and worn, and the hand-press—a Washington No. 2—had - seen considerable service. But it was all new to Joe, and the fact that he - was to become a part of the machinery aroused in his mind the most - delightful sensation. He quickly mastered the boxes of the printer’s case, - and before many days was able to set type swiftly enough to be of - considerable help to Mr. Snel-son, who was foreman, compositor, and - pressman. - </p> - <p> - The one queer feature about <i>The Countryman</i> was the fact that it was - the only plantation newspaper that has ever been published, the nearest - post-office being nine miles away. It might be supposed that such a - newspaper would be a failure; but <i>The Countryman</i> was a success from - the start, and at one time it reached a circulation of nearly two thousand - copies. The editor was a very original writer, and his editorials in <i>The - Countryman</i> were quoted in all the papers in the Confederacy, but he - was happiest when engaged in a political controversy. Another feature of - <i>The Countryman</i> was the fact that there was never any lack of copy - for the foreman and the apprentice to set. Instead of clipping from his - exchanges, the editor sent to the office three books, from which extracts - could be selected. These books were <i>Lacon</i>, Percy’s <i>Anecdotes</i>, - and Rochefoucauld’s <i>Maxims</i>. Then there were weekly letters from the - army in Virginia and voluntary contributions from many ambitious writers. - Some of the war correspondence was very gloomy, for as the months wore on - it told of the death of a great many young men whom Joe had known, and the - most of them had been very kind to him. - </p> - <p> - The days in the printing-office would have been very lonely for Joe, but - the grove that surrounded it was full of gray squirrels. These had been so - long undisturbed that they were comparatively tame. They were in the habit - of running about over the roof of the office and playing at hide-and-seek - like little children. To the roof, too, the blue-jays would bring their - acorns and hammer at the hard shells in the noisiest way, and once a red - fox made bold to venture near Joe’s window, where he stood listening and - sniffing the air until some noise caused him to vanish like a flash. Most - interesting of all, a partridge and her mate built their nest within a few - feet of the window, and it often happened that Joe neglected his work in - watching the birds. They bent the long grass over from each side carefully - until they had formed a little tunnel three or four feet long. When this - was done, Mrs. Partridge made her way to the end of it and began to - scratch and flutter just as a hen does when taking a dust-bath. She was - hollowing out her nest. By the time the nest was completed the archway of - grass that had hid it was considerably disarranged. Then Mrs. Partridge - sat quietly on the little hollow she had made, while Mr. Partridge rebuilt - the archway over her until she was completely concealed. He was very - careful about this. Frequently he would walk off a little way and turn and - look at the nest. If his sharp eyes could see anything suspicious, he - would return and weave the grass more closely together. Finally, he seemed - to be satisfied with his work. He shook his wings and began to preen - himself, and then Mrs. Partridge came out and joined him. They consulted - together with queer little duckings, and finally ran off into the - undergrowth as if bent on a frolic. - </p> - <p> - The work of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge was so well done that Joe found it very - difficult to discover the nest when he went out of the office. He knew - where it was from his window, but when he came to look for it out of doors - it seemed to have disappeared, so deftly was it concealed; and he would - have been compelled to hunt for it very carefully but for the fact that - when Mrs. Partridge found herself disturbed she rushed from the little - grass tunnel and threw herself at Joe’s feet, fluttering around as if - desperately wounded, and uttering strange little cries of distress. Once - she actually touched his feet with her wings, but when he stooped to pick - her up she managed to flutter off just out of reach of his hand. Joe - followed along after Mrs. Partridge for some little distance, and he - discovered that the farther she led him away from her nest the more her - condition improved, until finally she ran off into the sedge and - disappeared. Joe has never been able to find any one to tell him how Mrs. - Partridge knew what kind of antics a badly wounded bird would cut up. He - has been told that it is the result of instinct. The scientists say, - however, that instinct is the outgrowth of necessity; but it seems hard to - believe that necessity could have given Mrs. Partridge such accurate - knowledge of the movements of a wounded bird. - </p> - <p> - In carrying proofs from the printing-office to the editor, Joe Maxwell - made two discoveries that he considered very important. One was that there - was a big library of the best books at his command, and the other was that - there was a pack of well-trained harriers on the plantation. He loved - books and he loved dogs, and if he had been asked to choose between the - library and the harriers he would have hesitated a long time. The books - were more numerous—there were nearly two thousand of them, while - there were only five harriers—but in a good many respects the dogs - were the liveliest. Fortunately, Joe was not called on to make any choice. - He had the dogs to himself in the late afternoon and the books at night, - and he made the most of both. More than this, he had the benefit of the - culture of the editor of <i>The Countryman</i> and of the worldly - experience of Mr. Snelson, the printer. - </p> - <p> - To Joe Maxwell, sadly lacking in knowledge of mankind, Mr. Snelson seemed - to be the most engaging of men. He was the echo and mouthpiece of a world - the youngster had heard of but never seen, and it pleased him to hear the - genial printer rehearse his experiences, ranging all the way from Belfast, - Ireland, where he was born, to all the nooks and corners of the United - States, including the little settlement where the plantation newspaper was - published. Mr. Snelson had been a tramp and almost a tragedian, and he was - pleased on many occasions to give his little apprentice a taste of his - dramatic art. He would stuff a pillow under his coat and give readings - from Richard III, or wrap his wife’s mantilla about him and play Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0047.jpg" alt="0047 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0047.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - When tired of the stage he would clear his throat and render some of the - old ballads, which he sang very sweetly indeed. - </p> - <p> - One night, after the little domestic concert was over and Joe was reading - a book by the light of the pine-knot fire, a great fuss was heard in the - hen-house, which was some distance from the dwelling. - </p> - <p> - “Run, John,” exclaimed Mrs. Snelson; “I just know somebody is stealing my - dominicker hen and her chickens. Run!” - </p> - <p> - “Let the lad go,” said Mr. Snelson, amiably. “He’s young and nimble, and - whoever’s there he’ll catch ’em.—Run, lad! and if ye need help, lift - your voice and I’ll be wit’ ye directly.” - </p> - <p> - The dwelling occupied by Mr. Snelson was in the middle of a thick wood, - and at night, when there was no moon, it was very dark out of doors; but - Joe Maxwell was not afraid of the dark. He leaped from the door and had - reached the hen-house before the chickens ceased cackling and fluttering. - It was too dark to see anything, but Joe, in groping his way around, laid - his hand on Somebody. - </p> - <p> - His sensations would be hard to describe. His heart seemed to jump into - his mouth, and he felt a thrill run over him from head to foot. It was not - fear, for he did not turn and flee. He placed his hand again on the - Somebody and asked: - </p> - <p> - “Who are you?” - </p> - <p> - Whatever it was trembled most violently and the reply came in a weak, - shaking voice and in the shape of another question: - </p> - <p> - “Is dis de little marster what come fum town ter work in de paper office?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; who are you, and what are you doing here?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m name Mink, suh, an’ I b’longs to Marse Tom Gaither. I bin run’d away - an’ I got dat hongry dat it look like I bleedz ter ketch me a chicken. I - bin mighty nigh famished, suh. I wish you’d please, suh, excusen me dis - time.” - </p> - <p> - “Why didn’t you break and run when you heard me coming?” asked Joe, who - was disposed to take a practical view of the matter. - </p> - <p> - “You wuz dat light-footed, suh, dat I ain’t hear you, an’ sides dat, I got - my han’ kotch in dish yer crack, an’ you wuz right on top er me ’fo’ I kin - work it out.” - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you stay at home?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Dey don’t treat me right, suh,” said the negro, simply. The very tone of - his voice was more convincing than any argument could have been. - </p> - <p> - “Can you get your hand out of the crack?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, yes, suh; I’d’a done got it out fo’ now, but when you lipt on me so - quick all my senses wuz skeered out’n me.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Joe, “get your hand out and stay here till I come back, and - I’ll fetch you something to eat.” - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t foolin’ me, is you, little marster?” - </p> - <p> - “Do I look like I’d fool you?” said Joe, scornfully. - </p> - <p> - “I can’t see you plain, suh,” said the negro, drawing a long breath, “but - you don’t talk like it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, get your hand loose and wait.” - </p> - <p> - As Joe turned to go to the house, he saw Mr. Snelson standing in the door. - </p> - <p> - “It’s all right, sir,” the youngster said. “None of the chickens are - gone.” - </p> - <p> - “A great deal of fuss and no feathers,” said Mr. Snelson. “I doubt but it - was a mink.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Joe, laughing. “It must have been a Mink, and I’m going to set - a bait for him.” - </p> - <p> - “In all this dark?” asked the printer. “Why, I could stand in the door and - crush it wit’ me teeth.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes,” replied Joe. “I’ll take some biscuit and a piece of corn - bread, and scatter them around the hen-house, and if the mink comes back - he’ll get the bread and leave the chickens alone.” - </p> - <p> - “Capital!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, slapping Joe on the back. “I says to - mother here, says I, ‘As sure as you’re born to die, old woman, that B’y - has got the stuff in ’im that they make men out of.’ I said them very - words. Now didn’t I, mother?” - </p> - <p> - Joe got three biscuits and a pone of cornbread and carried them to Mink. - The negro had freed his hand, and he loomed up in the darkness as tall as - a giant. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you seem to be as big as a horse,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Thanky, little marster, thanky. Yes, suh, I’m a mighty stout nigger, an’ - ef marster would des make dat overseer lemme ’lone I’d do some mighty good - work, an’ I’d a heap druther do it dan ter be hidin’ out in de swamp dis - away like some wil’ varmint. Good-night, little marster.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0052.jpg" alt="0052 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0052.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Good-night!” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, little marster!” cried Mink, as he vanished in the - darkness. - </p> - <p> - That night in Joe Maxwell’s dreams the voice of the fugitive came back to - him, crying, “God bless you, little marster!” - </p> - <p> - But it was not in dreams alone that Mink came back to Joe. In more than - one way the negro played an important part in the lad’s life on the - plantation. One evening about dusk, as Joe was going home, taking a “near - cut” through the Bermuda pasture, a tall form loomed up before him, - outlining itself against the sky. - </p> - <p> - “Howdy, little marster! ’Tain’t nobody but Mink. I des come ter tell you - dat ef you want anything out’n de woods des sen’ me word by Harbert. I got - some pa’tridge-eggs here now. Deyer tied up in a rag, but dat don’t hurt - um. Ef you’ll des spread out yo’ hank’cher I’ll put um in it.” - </p> - <p> - “Haven’t you gone home yet?” asked Joe, as he held out his handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, no, suh!” exclaimed the negro. “De boys say dat de overseer say he - waitin’ fer Mink wid a club.” - </p> - <p> - There were four dozen of these eggs, and Joe and Mr. Snelson enjoyed them - hugely. - </p> - <p> - From that time forward, in one way and another, Joe Maxwell kept in - communication with Mink. The lad was not too young to observe that the - negroes on the plantation treated him with more consideration than they - showed to other white people with the exception of their master. There was - nothing they were not ready to do for him at any time of day or night. The - secret of it was explained by Har-bert, the man-of-all-work around the - “big house.” - </p> - <p> - “Marse Joe,” said Harbert one day, “I wuz gwine’long de road de udder - night an’ I met a great big nigger man. Dish yer nigger man took an’ stop - me, he did, an’ he’low, ‘Dey’s a little white boy on y o’ place which I - want you fer ter keep yo’ two eyes on ’im, an’ when he say come, you come, - an’ when he say go, you go.’ I’low, ‘’hey, big nigger man! what de - matter?’ an’ he ’spon’ back, ‘I done tole you, an’ I ain’t gwine tell you - no mo’. So dar you got it, Marse Joe, an’ dat de way it stan’s.” - </p> - <p> - And so it happened that, humble as these negroes were, they had it in - their power to smooth many a rough place in Joe Maxwell’s life. The negro - women looked after him with almost motherly care, and pursued him with - kindness, while the men were always ready to contribute to his pleasure. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—TRACKING A RUNAWAY - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne Sunday morning, - not long after Joe’s adventure with Mink, Harbert came to him with a - serious face. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Joe,” he said, “dey er gwine ter ketch Mink dis time.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know?” - </p> - <p> - “Kaze, soon dis mornin’ whiles I wuz a-feed-in’ de hogs, I seed one er dem - Gaither boys cornin’ down de road under whip an’ spur, an’ I ax ’im - wharbouts he gwine, an’ he say he gwine atter Bill Locke an’ his nigger - dogs. He ’low dat he know whar Mink bin las’ Friday night, an’ dey gwine - ter put de dogs on his track an’ ketch ’im. Dey’ll be’long back dis a way - terreckly.” - </p> - <p> - The lad had witnessed many a fox-chase and had hunted rabbits hundreds of - times, not only with the plantation harriers but with hounds; but he had - never seen a runaway negro hunted down, and he had a boy’s curiosity in - the matter, as well as a personal interest in the fate of Mink. So he - mounted his horse and waited for Mr. Locke and young Gaither to return. He - knew Bill Locke well, having seen him often in Hillsborough. Mr. Locke had - been an overseer, but he saved money, bought two or three negroes, and had - a little farm of his own. He had a great reputation as a negro-hunter, - mainly because the hunting of runaways was a part of his business. His two - dogs, Music and Sound, were known all over the country, and they were the - terror of the negroes, not because they were fierce or dangerous, but - because of their sagacity. Sound was a small brown hound, not larger than - a beagle, but he had such powers of scent that the negroes regarded him - with superstitious awe. He had what is called a “cold nose,” which is a - short way of saying that he could follow a scent thirty-six hours old, and - yet he was a very shabby-looking dog. - </p> - <p> - When Locke and young Gaither rode by they were joined by Joe Maxwell, and - his company seemed to be very welcome, especially to the Gaither boy, who - regarded the affair as a frolic. Mr. Locke was a man of very few words. - His face was dark and sallow and his eyes sunken. His neck was long and - thin, and Joe observed that his “Adam’s apple” was unusually large. As the - negroes said, Mr. Locke and his dogs “favored” each other. He was small - and puny, and his dogs were small and scrawny. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think you’ll catch Mink?” asked Joe. Mr Locke looked at the lad - almost pityingly, and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll git the nigger,” he replied, “if he’s been seed sence Friday noon. - We’ll git him if he ain’t took wings. All I ast of him is to stay - somewheres on top of the ground, and he’s mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Why did the negro run away?” said Joe to young Gaither. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he can’t get along with the overseer. And I don’t blame him much. I - told pap this morning that if I had to choose between Mink and Bill - Davidson I’d take Mink every time. But the trouble with pap is he’s - getting old, and thinks he can’t get along without an overseer, and - overseers are mighty hard to get now. I tell you right now that when I get - grown I’m not going to let any overseer bang my niggers around.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Locke said nothing, but Joe heartily indorsed young Gaither’s - sentiments. - </p> - <p> - When they arrived at the Gaither place, Mr. Locke asked to be shown the - house that Mink had occupied. Then he asked for the blankets on which the - negro had slept. These could not be found. Well, an old coat would do—anything - that the negro had worn or touched. Finally, a dirty, greasy bag, in which - Mink had carried his dinner to the field, was found. This would do, Mr. - Locke said, and, taking it in his hand, he called his dogs and held it - toward them. Sound smelled it more carefully than Music. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” said Mr. Locke, “where’bouts was he seed? At the hog-pen last - Friday night? All right, we’ll ride around there and kinder send him a - message.” - </p> - <p> - Joe was very much interested in all this, and he watched Mr. Locke and his - dogs very closely. When they arrived at the hog-pen, the negro hunter - dismounted and examined the ground. Then he spoke to his dogs. - </p> - <p> - “Sound!” he exclaimed, sharply, “what are you doing? Look about.—Music! - what are you here for?” - </p> - <p> - The shabby little dog seemed to be suddenly transformed. He circled around - the hogpen rapidly, getting farther and farther away each time. Mr. Locke - never took his eyes from the dog. - </p> - <p> - “It’s cold—mighty cold,” he said, presently. Then he spoke to the - dog again. “Sound! come here, sir! Now git down to your knitting! Come, - knuckle down! Try ’em, old fellow! try ’em!” - </p> - <p> - Thus encouraged, the dog, with his nose to the ground, went carefully - around the hog-pen. At one spot he paused, went on, and then came back to - it. This performance he repeated several times, and then began to work his - way toward an old field, going very slowly and carefully. - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir,” said Mr. Locke, heaving a sigh of relief, “I thought it was a - gone case, but the nigger’s been here, and we’ve got him.” - </p> - <p> - “May be the dog is trailing somebody else,” Joe Maxwell suggested. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Locke laughed softly and pityingly. “Why, I tell you what, buddy,” he - exclaimed, “if all the niggers in the country had tramped around here that - dog wouldn’t track none of ’em but the special nigger we’re after. Look at - that puppy, how he’s working!” - </p> - <p> - And truly it was an interesting if not a beautiful sight to see the dog - untangling the tangle of scent. More than once he seemed to be - dissatisfied with himself and made little excursions in search of a - fresher clew, but he always returned to the point where he had left off, - taking up the faint thread of scent and carrying it farther away from the - hog-pen. The patience and industry of the dog were marvelous. Mr. Locke - himself was patient. He encouraged the hound with his voice, but made no - effort to urge him on. - </p> - <p> - “It’s colder than a gravestone,” said Mr. Locke, finally. “It’s been a - long time sence that nigger stepped around here. And the ground’s high and - dry. If we can work the trail to the branch yonder, he’s our meat.—Try - for ’im, Sound! Try for ’im.” - </p> - <p> - Gradually the dog worked out the problem of the trail. Across the hill he - went, with many turnings and twistings, until finally he struck into the - path that led from the negro quarters to the spring where the washing was - done. Down this path the hound ran without deigning to put his nose to the - ground. At the branch he lapped his fill of water, and then took up his - problem again. A half-dozen wash-pots were scattered around, and under the - largest a fire was smoldering. On a bench, side by side, three tubs were - sitting, and it was at this bench that Sound picked up the trail again. - Evidently Mink had paused to chat with the woman who was washing. The - ground was moist, and the dog had little trouble. As he recovered the - trail he expressed his gratification by a little whimper. The trail led - down the spring branch and into a plantation road, then over a fence and - across a “new ground” until it struck a bypath that led to an arbor near a - church, where the negroes had been holding a revival meeting. At this - point there was another problem for the dog. A hundred or two negroes had - been gathered here, and it was evident that Mink had been one of the - crowd, mingling with the others and walking about with them. - </p> - <p> - Young Gaither called Mr. Locke’s attention to this. “You’ll never get the - trail away from here in the world,” said he. “Why don’t you take the dog - and circle round with him?” - </p> - <p> - “That dog,” said Mr. Locke, watching the hound anxiously, “has got notions - of his own, and he’s bound to carry ’em out. He won’t be fooled with. - Don’t say nothing. Just stand off and watch him. He’s been in worse places - than this here.” - </p> - <p> - But it was a tedious task the dog had before him. Winding in and out in - the mazes of an invisible labyrinth, turning and twisting, now slowly, now - more rapidly, he pursued with unerring nose the footsteps of the runaway, - and when he had followed the trail away from the church he was going at a - brisk pace, and his whimper had changed to an occasional yelp. Mr. Locke, - who up to this time had been leading his horse, now took off his coat, - folded it carefully, and laid it on his saddle. Then he remounted his - horse, and with Gaither and Joe Maxwell trotted along after his dog. - </p> - <p> - Mink must have lingered on the way, for a quarter of a mile farther on - Music joined Sound in his work, and the two dogs footed it along right - merrily, their mellow voices rousing a hundred echoes among the old red - hills. - </p> - <p> - A mile farther the dogs paused at a tree where there were traces of fire. - Scattered around were scraps of sweet-potato peelings and bread. - </p> - <p> - “Here is where the gentleman roosted last night,” said Mr. Locke; and it - must have been true, for Sound, with his head in the air, made a half - circle, picked up a warmer trail, and the two dogs were off like the wind. - Joe Maxwell became very much interested. The horse he was riding was swift - and game, and he drew away from the others easily. Neither ditches nor - gullies were in his way, and in the excitement a six-rail fence seemed to - be no obstacle. Mr. Locke shouted something at Joe, probably some word of - warning, but the meaning failed to reach the lad’s ears. Butterfly fought - for his head and got it, and in the twinkling of an eye carried his rider - out of hearing of his companions. - </p> - <p> - The dogs had swerved a little to the left, and were making straight for - the river—the Oconee. Butterfly ran into a plantation road and would - have crossed it, but Joe held him to it, and soon discovered that he was - gaining on the dogs. From slightly different directions the hounds and the - horse seemed to be making for the same point—and this point, as it - turned out, was the plantation ferry, where a bateau was kept. Joe Maxwell - reached the top of the hill overlooking the river just as the dogs reached - the ferry. Here he drew rein and looked about him. The hounds ran about on - the river-bank barking and howling. Sound went into the water, but, - finding that he was drifting down instead of going across, he made his way - out and shook himself, but still continued to bark. A quarter of a mile - away there was a great bend in the river. Far down this bend Joe could see - a bateau drifting. As he watched it the thought struck him that it did not - sit as lightly in the water as an empty boat should. “Suppose,” he asked - himself, with a laugh—“suppose Mink is in the bottom of that - bateau?” - </p> - <p> - He dismissed the thought as Mr. Locke and young Gaither came up. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a thundering slick hoss you’re riding,” said Mr. Locke. “He’d do - fine work in a fox-hunt. Where’s the nigger?” - </p> - <p> - “The dogs can tell you more about it than I can,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” remarked Mr. Locke, with a sigh, - </p> - <p> - “I know’d I’d miss him if he ever got to the ferry here and found the boat - on this side. Why, dang his black skin!” exclaimed the negro-hunter - vehemently, as he glanced down the river and saw the bateau floating away - in the distance, “he’s gone and turned the boat loose! That shows we was - a-pushin’ ’im mighty close. I reckon you could a’ seed ’im if you’d looked - clos’t when you first come up.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied Joe; “he was out of sight, and the boat was drifting around - the elbow. You were not more than five minutes behind me.” - </p> - <p> - “Bless your soul, buddy,” exclaimed Mr. Locke, “five minutes is a mighty - long time when you are trying to ketch a runaway.” - </p> - <p> - So ended the race after Mink. To Joe Maxwell it was both interesting and - instructive. He was a great lover of dogs, and the wonderful performance - of Sound had given him new ideas of their sagacity. - </p> - <p> - A few mornings after the unsuccessful attempt to catch Mink, a very queer - thing happened. Harbert was sweeping out the printing-office, picking up - the type that had been dropped on the floor, and Joe was preparing to - begin the day’s work. Suddenly Harbert spoke: - </p> - <p> - “Marse Joe,” said he, “when you rid out ter de river Sunday, is you happen - ter see er bateau floatin’ ’roun’?” - </p> - <p> - Joe looked at Harbert for some explanation of the singular question, but - the negro pretended to be very busily engaged in picking up scraps of - paper. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Joe, after a pause, “I saw a boat drifting down the river. - What about it?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh, I speck ef de trufe waz ter git out, dat dey wuz one er yo’ - ole ’quaintance in dat boat, an’ I bet a thrip dat ef you’d a-hollered - howdy, dey’d a-hollered howdy back.” - </p> - <p> - Harbert was still too busy to look up. - </p> - <p> - “Hit de funniest boat what I yever come ’cross,” he went on, “agwine - floatin’ long down by itse’f, an’ den, on top er dat, come floatin’ long - back agin.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know about the bateau?” - </p> - <p> - “Whiles you bin gwine’long de road, Marse Joe,” said Harbert, still making - a great pretense of gathering up the trash in the room, “ain’t you never - is see all dem little birds flyin’ ’mongst de bushes an’ ’long de fence? - Well, suh, dem little birds kin tell mo’ tales ef you listen at ’em right - close dan all deze yer papers what you bin printin’. Dey er mighty cu’us, - an’ dey er mighty cunnin’. Dey tole me lots mo’ dan dat. Dey say dat de - young Gaither boy took an’ sont word ter Marse Tom Clemmons dat somebody - done gone an’ stole de bateau at de ferry, but yit when Marse Tom go out - fer ter look atter his boat dar she is right spang whar he lef’ ’er. Now, - how you ’count fer dat?” - </p> - <p> - “Then, Mink—” - </p> - <p> - “Coon an’ ’possum!” interrupted Harbert, as Mr. Snelson appeared in the - doorway. - </p> - <p> - “’Possum it is!” exclaimed that genial gentleman. “In season or out of - season, I’ll never refuse it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh,” said Harbert, “ef de talk gwine ter fall on ’possum, I’m - bleeds ter go, kase when I hear folks talkin’ ’bout’possum hit make me - dribble at de mouf.” The negro went off laughing loudly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—SHADOWS OF THE WAR - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hat with the books - in the library and the life out of doors in the afternoons, Joe Maxwell - grew very fond of his new home. His work at the printers’ case was not a - task, but a pleasure. He grew to be an expert in type-setting and won - unstinted praise from Mr. Snelson. Sometimes he wrote little paragraphs of - his own, crediting them to “The Countryman’s Devil,” and the editor was - kind enough to make no objection, and this fact was very encouraging to - the lad, who was naturally shy and sensitive. - </p> - <p> - Only the echoes of the war were heard at the Turner place; but once the - editor returned from Hillsborough with some very sad news for a lady who - lived near <i>The Countryman</i> office with her father, Her husband had - been killed in one of the great battles, and her screams when the editor - told her of it, and the cries of her little daughter, haunted Joe Maxwell - for many a long day. Sometimes he lay awake at night thinking about it, - and out of the darkness it seemed to him that he could build a grim mirage - of war, vanishing and reappearing like an ominous shadow, and devouring - the people. - </p> - <p> - The war was horrible enough, distant as it was, but the people who were - left at home—the women and children, the boys, the men who were - exempt, the aged and the infirm—had fears of a fate still more - terrible. They were fears that grew out of the system of slavery, and they - grew until they became a fixed habit of the mind. They were the fears of a - negro insurrection. The whites who were left at home knew that it was in - the power of the negroes to rise and in one night sweep the strength and - substance of the Southern Confederacy from the face of the earth. Some of - the more ignorant whites lived in constant terror. - </p> - <p> - Once it was whispered around that the blacks were preparing to rise, and - the fears of the people were so ready to confirm the rumor that the - plantations were placed in a state of siege. The patrol—called by - the negroes “patter-rollers”—was doubled, and for a time the negro - quarters in all parts of the country were visited nightly by the guard. - But Joe Maxwell noticed that the patrol never visited the Turner - plantation, and he learned afterward that they had been warned off. The - editor of <i>The Countryman</i> had the utmost confidence in his negroes, - and he would not allow them to be disturbed at night by the - “patter-rollers.” He laughed at the talk of a negro uprising, and it was a - favorite saying of his that the people who treated their negroes right had - nothing to fear from them. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0073.jpg" alt="0073 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0073.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - As for Joe Maxwell, he had no time to think about such things. He - sometimes rode with the patrol on their fruitless and sometimes foolish - errands, but his curiosity with regard to them was soon satisfied, and he - was better contented when he was spending his evenings at home with his - books, or in listening to the wonderful tales that Mr. Snelson told for - his benefit. In spite of the fact that his work in the little - printing-office was confining, the lad managed to live an outdoor life for - a good part of the time. He had a task to do—so many thousand ems to - set—and then he was through for the day. The thoughtful Mr. Snelson - added to this task from time to time, but Joe always managed to complete - it so as to have the greater part of the afternoon for his own. - </p> - <p> - There was a hat-shop on the plantation presided over by Mr. Wall, a queer - old man from North Carolina. With the thrift of youth Joe gave the - amusement of rabbit-hunting a business turn. In the fall and winter, when - the rabbits were in fur, their skins could be sold at the hat-shop at - twenty-five cents a dozen, and the little harriers were so industrious and - so well trained that he sometimes sold as many as three dozen skins, a - week. In addition to the pleasure and the money he got from the sport, he - became very much interested in the hat-shop. - </p> - <p> - The hats were made as they had been during the Revolution, and as they - were no doubt made in England before the Revolution. The hair on the pelts - or skins was scraped off with a knife fashioned like a shoemaker’s knife. - The fur was then cut away with a steel blade that had no handle. When - there was enough fur to make a hat it was placed on a bench or counter. - Over the counter was suspended a long staff, to which was fastened a - bowstring. If the staff had been bent it would have had the appearance of - a huge bow, but it was straight, and the rawhide string was allowed a - little play. With an instrument not unlike a long spool the hatter would - catch the bowstring, pull it away from the staff, and allow it to whip - against the fur as it sprang back into place. This whipping was carried on - very rapidly, and was kept up until every tuft of fur was broken apart. - Then the fur was whipped gently into what was called a bat, shaped - somewhat like a section of orange peel. The hatter then spread a cambric - cloth carefully over it, pressed it down a little, seized the cloth in the - middle between thumb and forefinger, gave it a flirt in the air and lifted - fur and all. To Joe Maxwell it seemed like a trick of magic. - </p> - <p> - The cloth, with the bat of fur lying smoothly and neatly in its fold, was - then placed on a heating box, and kneaded rapidly but gently. When it - seemed to be getting too hot it was sprinkled with water. This kneading - was kept up until the fur shrunk together. When taken from the cloth it - was in the shape of the hats the clowns used to wear in the circus, and it - was called a bonnet. The bonnet was then dipped in boiling water and - pressed and kneaded with an instrument shaped like a rolling-pin, but - smaller. The workers in this department were compelled to protect their - hands from the boiling water by means of leather fastened to the palms of - their hands. The more the bonnets were rolled and kneaded, the more they - shrunk, until finally they were ready to be placed on the blocks that gave - them the hat shape. They were fitted to these blocks, which were of - various sizes, and thrown into a caldron of boiling water, where they were - allowed to stay until they would shrink no more. - </p> - <p> - When hats became scarce after the breaking out of the war, the editor - bought Mr. Wall’s interest in the hat-shop, and made him foreman. Several - negroes were placed under him, and they soon became experts in hat-making. - There was a great demand for the hats from all over the South, and on one - occasion Joe Maxwell sold a dozen wool hats for $500—in Confederate - money. - </p> - <p> - But the most interesting thing about the shop, as Joe thought, was the - head hatter, Miles Wall, who was the quaintest old man that Joe had ever - seen. He was illiterate—he didn’t know a letter in the book—and - yet he was not ignorant. The Bible had been read to him until he was - grounded in its texts and teachings, and he was always ready for an - argument on politics or religion. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0076.jpg" alt="0076 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0076.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Whenever you hear anybody a-axing anything,” he used to say, “’bout how - I’m a-gettin’ on, an’ how my family is, un’ whether er no my health is - well, you thess up an’ tell um that I’m a nachul Baptis’. You thess up an’ - tell um that, an’ I’ll be mighty much erbleege to you. Tell um I’m a - born’d Baptis’.” - </p> - <p> - Although Mr. Wall was unable to read or write, Joe Maxwell found him to be - a very interesting talker. Perhaps it was his ignorance of books that made - him interesting. He was more superstitious than any of the negroes—a - great believer in signs and omens. One night when Joe went to visit him, - the old man told a story that made a very deep impression on the lad. - There was nothing in the story, but Mr. Wall identified himself with it, - and told it in a way that made it seem real, and it was a long time before - Joe could divest himself of the idea that the story was not true. Wherever - Mr. Wall got it, whether he dreamed it or heard it, there is no doubt that - he really believed it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—MR. WALL’S STORY - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his is the way he - told it, by the light of a pine-knot fire that threw a wavering and an - uncertain light over the little room: - </p> - <p> - “I’m monst’us sorry. Daught ain’t here,” he began, “’cause she know’d the - folks thess ez well ez I did; she’s been thar at the house an’ seed um. It - thess come inter my min’ whilst we been a-settin’ here talkin’ ’bout - ghostses an’ the like er that. Daught’s over yander settin’ up wi’ Mis - Clemmons, an’ I wisht she wuz here. She know’d ’em all. - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir, it wuz in North Ca’liny, right nex’ ter the Ferginny line, - whar we all cum frum. They wuz a fammerly thar by the name er Chambliss—Tom - Chambliss an’ his wife—an’ they had a boy name John, in about ez - peart a chap ez you ever set your eyes on. Arter awhile, Miss Chambliss, - she took sick an’ died. Tom, he moped aroun’ right smartually, but ’twan’t - long fo’ he whirled in an’ married agin. He went away off some’rs for to - get his wife, the Lord knows whar, an’ she wuz a honey! She fussed so much - an’ went on so that Tom, he took ter drink, an’ he went from dram ter dram - tell he wern’t no manner account. Then she took arter John, the boy, an’ - she thess made that child’s life miserbul a-doggin’ arter him all day long - an’ half the night. - </p> - <p> - “One Sunday she fixed up an’ went ter church, arter tellin’ Johnny for to - stay at home an’ keep the chickens outn’ the sallid-patch. She locked the - door of the house before she went off an’ took the key wi’ ’er. It wuz - right down coolish, but the sun wuz a-shinin’ an’ Johnny didn’t min’ the - cold. Ther’ wuz a big white oak-tree in the yard, an’ he clum’ up that an’ - crope out on a lim’ an’ got on top er the house, an’ sot up thar a - straddle er the comb. He wuz a feeling mighty lonesome, an’ he didn’t know - what ter do wi’ hisse’f skacely. - </p> - <p> - “I dunno how long he sot thar, but presently a great big acorn dropped on - the roof—<i>ker-bang!</i> It wuz sech a big one an’ it fell so hard - that it made Johnny jump. It fell on the roof ’bout half-way betwixt the - comb an’ the eaves, an’ when Johnny looked aroun’ for to see what made the - fuss he seed the acorn a-rollin’ up to’rds whar he wuz a-settin’. Yes, - sir! stedder rollin’ down the roof an’ failin’ off on the groun’, the - acorn come a-rollin’ up the shingles thess like it wuz down grade. Johnny - grabbed it ez it come. He picked it up an’ looked at it good, an’ then - turned it roun’ an’ ’roun’ for to see what kinder consarn it wuz that - rolled up hill stedder rollin’ down hill. While he wuz a turnin’ the acorn - aroun’ he spied a worm hole in it, an’ he was thess about ter break it - open when he heard somebody callin’. It sounded like his stepmammy wuz - a-callin’ ’im from a way off yander, an’ he answered back ‘Ma’am!’ thess - ez loud as ever he could, an’ then he sot still an’ listened. Bimeby he - heard the callin’ again, an’ he answered back: ‘Who is you, an’ whar is - you?’ It seemed like then that he could hear somebody laughin’ at ’im - some’rs. These here sounds sorter put ’im out, an’ he took an’ shot the - acorn down the roof like it wuz a marvel. Yit, before it could fall off, - it seemed ter kinder ketch itself, an’ then it come a-rollin’ back to - Johnny. - </p> - <p> - “This sorter made Johnny feel kinder creepy. He know’d mighty well that he - didn’t have no loadstone in his pocket, an’ he couldn’t make no head ner - tail to sech gwine’s on. He picked up the acorn an’ looked at it closeter - than ever, an’ turned it ’roun’ an’ ’roun’ in his hand, an’ helt it right - up to his eye. Whilst he was a-holdin’ it up that a-way he heard a little - bit er voice ez fine ez a cambric needle, an’ it seem like it wuz - a-singin’: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Ningapie, Ningapie! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Why do you hol’ me at your eye? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Ningapie, Ningapee! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Don’t you know that you can’t see? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Ningapie, Ningapeer! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Why don’t you hol’ me to your ear? - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0082.jpg" alt="0082 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0082.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Johnny didn’t know whether to laugh er cry, but he helt the acorn to his - ear, an’ he heard sumpin’ er other on the inside holler out: - </p> - <p> - “‘Why don’t you hold my house so I can talk out’n my window?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘I don’t see no window,’ says Johnny, sorter shakin’ a little, bekase the - Watchermacollum talked like it was mad. ‘Is thish here worm-hole your - window?’ - </p> - <p> - “’Tooby shore it is,’ say the Whatshisname, ’it’s my window an’ my front - door, an’ my peazzer.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Why, it ain’t bigger than the pint of a pin,’ says Johnny. - </p> - <p> - “‘But ef it wuzn’t big enough,’ say the—er—Watchermacollum, - ‘I’d make it bigger.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘What is your name?’ says Johnny. - </p> - <p> - “‘Ningapie.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘It’s a mighty funny name,’ says Johnny. ‘Where did you come from?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Chuckalucker town.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘That’s in the song,’ says Johnny. - </p> - <p> - “‘Me, too,” says Ningapie. ‘It’s in the song. Ain’t you never heard it?’ - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Ningapie! Ningapan! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - He up an’ killed the Booger Man! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Ningapie, Ningapitch! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ‘He’s the one to kill a witch.’ - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Johnny wuz so took up wi’ the talkin’ an’ the singin’ of the little - feller in the acorn that he didn’t hear his stepmammy when she come, an’ - when he did hear her he wuz that skeered that he shook like a poplar-leaf. - </p> - <p> - “‘Watch out!’ says the little chap in the acorn. ‘Watch out! Be right - still. Don’t move. I want to show you sumpin’.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘She’ll skin me alive,’ says Johnny. - </p> - <p> - “‘Thess wait,’ says the little chap. ‘If she calls you, keep right still.’ - </p> - <p> - “Mis. Chambliss onlocked the door an’ went in the house, an’ slammed - things down like she wuz mad. She flung the tongs down on the h’ath, slung - the shovel in a corner, an’ sot a cheer back like she wuz tryin’ for to - drive it thoo the wall. Then she began to jaw. - </p> - <p> - “‘I’ll get ’im! Me a-tellin’ ’im to stay an’ min’ the sallid-patch, an’ he - a-runnin’ off! Won’t I make ’im pay for it?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘That’s me,’ says Johnny, an’ he talked like he wuz mighty nigh ready to - cry. - </p> - <p> - “‘Thess wait!’ says the little chap in the acorn. ‘Keep right still!’ - </p> - <p> - “Bimeby Mis. Chambliss come out’n the house an’ looked all aroun’. Then - she called Johnny. She had a voice like a dinner-horn, an’ you moughter - heard her a mile or more. Johnny he shook an’ shivered, but he stayed - still. His stepmammy called an’ called, an’ looked ever’whar for Johnny - exceptin’ in the right place. Then she went back in the house an’ - presently she come out. She had a little spade in one hand an’ a little - box in t’ other. - </p> - <p> - “‘Watch her!’ says the little chap in the acorn. ‘Keep your eye on her!’ - </p> - <p> - “She went down in the gyarden an’ walked along tell she come to a Mogul - plum-tree, an’ then she knelt down an’ begun to dig away at the roots of - it. She dug an’ dug, and then she put the box in the hole an’ covered it - up. - </p> - <p> - “‘Oho!’ says the little chap in the acorn. ‘Now you see whar she hides her - money an’ your daddy’s money. Ever’body thinks your daddy has been - a-throwin’ his money away, an’ thar’s whar it’s gone. I’ve been a-watchin’ - her a long time.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘I ain’t botherin’ ’bout the money,’ says Johnny. ‘I’m a-thinkin’ ’bout - the frailin’ I’m gwine to git.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Well,’ says the little chap in the acorn, ‘when she goes to the spring - for to fetch a bucket of water, put me in your pocket an’ climb down from - here. Then go up the road a piece, an’ there you’ll see a red cow - a-grazin’. Walk right up to her, slap her on the back, an’ say, “Ningapie - wants you.” Fetch her home an’ tell your stepmammy that a stranger told - you that you might have her ef you’d go an’ git her.’ - </p> - <p> - “Shore enough, ’twan’t long before Mis. Chambliss come out’n the house an’ - started to the spring for to git a bucket of water. She had done took an’ - pulled off her Sunday-go-to-meetin’ duds, an’ she looked mighty scrawny in - her calico frock. Time she got out’n sight Johnny put the acorn in his - pocket an’ scrambled down to the groun’, an’ then he split off up the road - ez hard ez ever he could go. He didn’t go so mighty fur before he seed a - red cow feedin’ by the side of the road, an’ she wuz a fine cow, too, ez - fat ez a butter-ball, an’ lookin’ like she mought be able for to give four - gallons of milk a day an’ leave some over for the calf wharsoever the calf - mought be. When she seed Johnny walkin’ right to’rds her, she raised her - head an’ sorter blowed like cow creeturs will do, but she stood stock - still tell Johnny come up an’ patted her on the back an’ says: - </p> - <p> - “‘Ningapie wants you.’ - </p> - <p> - “Then she shook her head an’ trotted along at Johnny’s heels, an’ Johnny - marched down the road a-swellin’ up wi’ pride tell he like to bust the - buttons off’n his coat. When he got home his stepmammy wuz a-stan’in’ at - the gate a-waitin’ for him wi’ a hickory, but when she seed the cow - a-followin’ long behine him, she took an’ forgot all about the whippin’ - she’d laid up. - </p> - <p> - “‘Why, Johnny!’ say she, ’whar in the wide world did you git sech a - be-u-tiful cow?’” - </p> - <p> - In his effort to mimic a woman’s voice, Mr. Wall screwed up his mouth and - twisted it around to such an alarming extent that Joe Maxwell thought for - an instant the old man was going to have a spasm. The lad laughed so - heartily when he found out his mistake that Mr. Wall repeated his effort - at mimicking. - </p> - <p> - “‘Why, Johnny,’ say she, ‘whar in the wide world did you git sech a - be-u-tiful cow?’ - </p> - <p> - “Johnny, he up an’ tol’ his stepmammy what Ningapie tol’ ’im to say, an’ - the ole’oman, she wuz e’en about ez proud ez Johnny wuz. She patted the - cow on the back, an’ muched her up might’ly, an’ then she took her in the - lot an’ got ready fer to milk her. Johnny felt the acorn a-jumpin’ about - in his pocket, an’ he took it out an’ helt it up to his ear. - </p> - <p> - “‘Watch her when she goes to milk,’ says Ningapie. - </p> - <p> - “Johnny clumb the fence an’ waited. Thess ’bout the time his stepmammy - begun fer to milk the cow good, a little black dog come a-rushin’ ’roun’ - the yard a-barkin’ fit to kill. Time she heard ’im, the cow give a jump - an’ come mighty nigh knockin’ ole Mis. Chambliss over. Time everything got - quiet, here come a big pack of dogs a-chargin’ ’roun’ the lot-palin’s in - full cry, an’ it look like to Johnny that the cow would shorely have a - fit. - </p> - <p> - “When night come,” Mr. Wall continued, throwing another pine-knot into the - fire, “Johnny got some milk for his supper, an’ then he went to bed. He - helt the acorn to his ear for to tell the little chap good-night. - </p> - <p> - “‘Don’t put me on the shelf,’ says Ningapie, ’an’ don’t put me on the - floor.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Why?’ says Johnny, in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “‘Bekaze the rats might git me,’ says Ningapie. - </p> - <p> - “‘Well,’ says Johnny, ‘I’ll let you sleep on my piller.’ - </p> - <p> - “Some time in the night Johnny felt sump’n run across the foot of his bed. - He wuz wide awake in a minit, but he kept mighty still, bekaze he wuz - skeer’d. Presently he felt sump’n jump up on his bed an’ run across it. - Then it popped in his head about Ningapie, an’ he felt for the acorn tell - he found it. - </p> - <p> - “‘Now’s your time,’ says Ningapie. ‘Git up an’ put on your clozes quick - an’ foller the little black dog.’ - </p> - <p> - “Johnny jumped up, an’ was ready in three shakes of a sheep’s tail, an’ he - could hear the little black dog a-caperin’ aroun’ on the floor. When he - started, he took the acorn in his han’. The door opened to let him out, - an’ shot itse’f when he got out, an’ then the little black dog went - trottin’ down the big road. It wuz dark, but the stars wuz a-shinin’, an’ - Johnny could tell by the ell-an’-yard” (the constellation of Orion) “that - it wuz nigh midnight. - </p> - <p> - “They hadn’t gone fur before they come to a big white hoss a-standin’ in - the road, chompin’ his bit an’ pawin’ the groun’. - </p> - <p> - “‘Mount the hoss,’ says Ningapie. - </p> - <p> - “Johnny jumped on his back, an’ the hoss went canterin’ down the road. - ’Twan’t long ’fore Johnny seed a light shinin’ in the road, an’ when he - got a little nigher he seed it was right in the middle of the cross roads. - A fire was a-blazin’ up thar, an’ who should be a-feedin’ of it but his - stepmammy? Her hair wuz a-hangin’ down, an’ she looked like ole Nick - hisse’f. She wuz a-walkin’ ’roun’ the blaze, a-mumblin’ some kinder talk, - an’ a-makin’ motions wi’ her han’s, an’ thar wuz a great big black cat - a-walkin’ ’roun’ wi’ her, an’ a-rubbin’ up agin her, and the creetur’s - tail wuz swelled up out’n all reason. - </p> - <p> - “‘Watch out, now,’ says Ningapie, ’an''hold on to your hoss.’ - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“He hadn’t more’n spoke the words before a pack of dogs broke out of the -woods an’ made right for the ole’oman, an’ Johnny’s hoss a-fol-lerin’ - ’em. Thar wuz a monst’us scatteration of chunks an’ fire-coals, an’ then -it looked like ’oman, dogs, an’ all riz up in the elements, an’ thar wuz -sech another yowlin’ an’ howlin’ an’ growlin’ ez ain’t never been heard -in them parts before nor sence. -</pre> - <p> - “When Johnny got back home he found his pappy a-waitin’ for him, an’ he - looked like a new man. Then they went down into the gyarden, an’ thar they - foun’ a pile of gold packed up in little boxes. Ez for the ole’oman, she - never did come back. She wuz a witch, an’ Ningapie unwitched her.” - </p> - <p> - “And what become of the acorn?” asked Joe Maxwell. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Lord!” said Mr. Wall, with a sigh, “you know how boys is. Like ez - not, Johnny took an’ cracked it open wi’ a hammer for to see what kind of - a creetur Ningapie wuz.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—THE OWL AND THE BIRDS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Gaither boy - grew to be very friendly with Joe Maxwell, and he turned out to be a very - pleasant companion. He was fifteen years old, but looked younger, and - although he had no book-learning, he was very intelligent, having picked - up a great deal of the wholesome knowledge that Nature keeps in store for - those who make her acquaintance. He could read a little, and he could - write his name, which he took great pride in doing, using a stick for a - pen and a bed of sand for a copy-book. Walking along through the fields or - woods, he would pause wherever the rains had washed the sand together, and - write his name in full in letters that seemed to be wrestling with each - other—“James K. Polk Gaither.” As there was another James in his - family, he was called Jim-Polk Gaither. - </p> - <p> - His friendship was worth a great deal to Joe Maxwell, for there was not a - bird in the woods nor a tree that he did not know the name of and - something of its peculiarities, and he was familiar with every road and - bypath in all the country around. He knew where the wild strawberries - grew, and the chincapins and chestnuts, and where the muscadines, or, as - he called them, the “bullaces,” were ripest. The birds could not hide - their nests from him, nor the wild creatures escape him. He had a tame - buzzard that sometimes followed him about in his rambles. He set traps for - flying squirrels, and tamed them as soon as his hands touched them. He - handled snakes fearlessly, and his feats with them were astounding to the - town lad until Joe discovered that the serpents were not of the poisonous - species. In handling highland moccasins and spreading adders, Jim-Polk - confined his feats to seizing them by their tails as they ran and snapping - their heads off. Whenever he killed one in this way he always hung it on a - bush or tree in order, as he said, to bring rain. When it failed to rain, - his explanation was that as a snake never dies until sundown, no matter - how early in the morning it may be killed, it had twisted and writhed - until it fell from the limb or bush on which it was hung. - </p> - <p> - Jim-Polk had many gifts and acquirements that interested Joe Maxwell. Once - when the two lads were walking through the woods they saw a pair of hawks - some distance away. Jim-Polk motioned to Joe to hide under a hawthorn - bush. Then, doubling his handkerchief before his mouth, he began to make a - curious noise—a series of smothered exclamations that sounded like - hoo!—hoo!—hoo-hoo! He was imitating the cry of the swamp owl, - which Joe Maxwell had never heard. The imitation must have been perfect, - for immediately there was a great commotion in the woods. The smaller - birds fluttered away and disappeared; but the two hawks, re-enforced by a - third, came flying toward the noise with their feathers ruffled and - screaming with indignation. They meant war. Jim-Polk continued his muffled - cries, until presently the boys heard a crow cawing in the distance. - </p> - <p> - “Now you’ll see fun,” said young Gaither. “Just keep right still.” - </p> - <p> - The crow was flying high in the air, and would have gone over but the - muffled cry of the owl—hoo! hoo! hoo! hoo!—caught its ear and - it paused in its flight, alighting in the top of a tall pine. Swinging in - this airy outlook, it sent forth its hoarse signals, and in a few minutes - the pine was black with its companions, all making a tremendous outcry. - Some of them dropped down into the tops of the scrub-oaks. They could not - find the owl, but they caught sight of the hawks, and sounded their - war-cry. Such cawing, screaming, fluttering, and fighting Joe Maxwell had - never seen before. The hawks escaped from the crows, but they left many of - their feathers on the battle-field. One of the hawks did not wholly - escape, for in his fright he flew out of the woods into the open, and - there he was pounced on by a kingbird, which Jim-Polk called a bee martin. - This little bird, not larger than his cousin, the catbird, lit on the - hawk’s back and stayed there as long as they remained in sight. The - commotion set up by the crows had attracted the attention of all the - birds, except the smallest, and they flew about in the trees, uttering - notes of anger or alarm, all trying to find the owl. - </p> - <p> - The incident was very interesting to Joe Maxwell. He discovered that the - owl is the winged Ishmael of the woods, the most hated and most feared of - all the birds. A few days afterward he went with Harbert to see the hogs - fed, and he told the negro how all the birds seemed to hate the owl. - </p> - <p> - “Lord! yes, sah!” said Harbert, who seemed to know all about the matter. - “Ain’t you never is hear tell er de tale ’bout de owl an’ de yuther birds? - Ole man Remus tole it ter me dis many a year ago, an’ sence den I bin hear - talk about it mo’ times dan what I got fingers an’ toes.” - </p> - <p> - Of course, Joe wanted to hear— - </p> - <h3> - THE STORY OF THE OWL. - </h3> - <p> - “Well, suh,” said Harbert, “hit run sorter like dis: One time way back - yander, fo’ ole man Remus wuz born’d, I speck, all de birds wuz in - cahoots; dem what fly in de air, an’ dem what walk on de groun’, an’ dem - what swim on de water—all un um. Dey all live in one settlement, an’ - whatsomever dey mought pick up endurin’ er de day, dey’d fetch it ter der - place wharbouts dey live at, an’ put it wid de rest what de yuther ones - bin a-ketchin’ an’ a-fetchin’. - </p> - <p> - “Dey kep’ on dis away, twel, twant long fo’ dey done save up a right smart - pile er fust one thing an’ den anudder. De pile got so big dat dey ’gun - ter git skeered dat some un ud come ’long whilst dey wus away an’ he’p - derse’f. Bimeby some er de mo’ ’spicious ’mong um up an’ say dat somebody - bin stealin’ fum de provision what dey savin’ up ginst hard times. Mr. - Jaybird, he coyspon’ wid Mr. Crow, an’ Mr. Crow he coyspon’ wid Miss - Chicken Hawk, and Miss Chicken Hawk she coyspon’ wid Mr. Eagle, which he - was de big buckra er all de birds. An’ den dey all coyspon’ wid one - anudder, an’ dey ’low dat dey bleeze ter lef’ somebody dar fer ter watch - der winter wittles whiles dey er off a-huntin’ up mo’. Dey jowered an’ - jowered a long time, twel, bimeby, Mr. Eagle, he up an’ say dat de bes’ - dey kin do is to ’pint Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch. Mr. Owl he sorter hoot - at dis, but ’tain’t do no good, kaze de yuthers, dey say dat all Mr. Owl - got ter do is ter sleep mo’ endurin’ er de night an’ stay ’wake endurin’ - er de day. - </p> - <p> - “So, den,” Harbert went on, pausing as if trying to remember the thread of - the story, “dey ’pinted Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch, an’ dey all flewd off, - some one way an’ some anudder. Mr. Owl, he tuck his seat, he did, whar he - kin take in a right smart stretch er country wid his big eyeball, an’ he - sot dar right peart. But bimeby he’gun ter git lonesome. Dey want nobody - ter talk ter, an’ de sun shine so bright dat he bleeze ter shet his eye, - an’ ’fo’ he know what he doin’ he wuz a settin’ dar noddin’ same ez a - nigger by a hick’ry fire. Every once in a while he’d ketch hissef an’ try - ter keep ’wake, but, do what he would, he can’t keep his eye open, an’ - bimeby he snap his mouf like he mad an’ den he slapped his head under his - wing an’ dropped off ter sleep good fashion. Kaze when a bird git his head - under his wing hit’s des de same ez gwine ter bed an’ pullin’ de kiver - ’roun’ yo’ years. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh, dar he wuz, settin’ up fast asleep. ’Long in de co’se er de - day, Mr. Crow an’ Mr. Jaybird, dey struck up wid one annuder out in de - woods, an’ dey sot down in a popular-tree fer to carry on a confab. Dey - done bin coy-spon’ wid one anudder an’ dey bofe bin pullin’ up corn. Mr. - Crow’low ter Mr. Jaybird dat he ain’t so mighty certain an’ shore ’bout - Mr. Owl, kaze he mighty sleepy-headed. Wid dat, Mr. Jaybird, he up an’ say - dat he got dat ve’y idee in his min’. Dey sot dar an’ swop talk’bout Mr. - Owl, twel, atter while, dey’gree ter go back fer de settlement an’ see - what Mr. Owl doin’. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh, dey went dar, an’ dar dey foun’ ’im. Yasser! Mr. Owl sholy wuz - dar. He wuz settin’ up on a lim’ wid his head flung under his wing, an’ - ’twuz all dey kin do fer ter wake ’im up. Dey hollered at ’im des loud ez - dey kin, an’ bimeby he woke up an’ tuck his head out from under his wing - an’ look at um des ez solium ez a camp-meetin’ preacher. Dey ’buze ’im—dey - quoiled—dey call ’im out’n his name—dey jowered at ’im—but - tain’t do no good. He des sot dar, he did, an’ look at um, an’ he ain’t - say nuthin’ ’tall. Dis make Mr. Crow an’ Mr. Jaybird mighty mad, kaze when - folks quoil an’ can’t git nobody for ter quoil back at um, it make um - wusser mad dan what dey wuz at fust. Dat night when de yuther birds come - home, Mr. Crow an’ Mr. Jaybird, dey had a mighty tale ter tell. Some - b’lieved um an’ some didn’t b’lieve um. Miss Jenny Wren, an’ Mr. Jack - Sparrow, an’ Miss Cat Bird, dey b’lieved um, an’ dey went on so twel de - yuther birds can’t hear der own years, skacely. But de big birds, dey - sorter helt off, an’ say dey gwine ter give Mr. Owl anudder chance. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh, dey give Mr. Owl two mo’ trials, let alone one, an’ eve’y time - dey lef ’im dar fer ter watch an’ gyard, dey’d fin’ ’m fast asleep. An’ - dat ain’t all; dey skivered dat somebody done bin slippin’ in an’ totin’ - off der provisions. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0099.jpg" alt="0099 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0099.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Dat settle de hash fer Mr. Owl. De birds sot a day an’ fotch Mr. Owl up - fer ter stan’ trial, an’ dey laid down de law dat fum dat time forrud dat - Mr. Owl shan’t go wid de yuther birds, an’ dat de nex’ time dey kotch ’im - out de word wuz ter be give, an’ dey wuz all ter fall foul un ’im an’ - frail’m out. Den dey say dat when he sleep he got ter sleep wid bofe eyes - wide open, a’n dey lay it down dat he got ter keep watch all night long, - an’ dat whensomever he hear any fuss he got ter holler out: - </p> - <p> - “’Who—who—who pesterin’ we all?’ - </p> - <p> - “Dat de way de law stan’s,” continued Har-bert, placing his basket of corn - on the top rail of the fence, “an dat de way it gwine ter stan’. Down ter - dis day, when Mr. Owl asleep, he sleep wid his eye wide open, an’ when de - yuther birds ketch him out, dey light on to ’im like folks puttin’ out - fire, an’ when he ups an’ hollers in de night-time, you kin hear ’im say: - </p> - <p> - “‘Who—who—who pesterin’ we all?’” - </p> - <p> - With a laugh, in which Joe Maxwell heartily joined, Harbert turned his - attention to calling his hogs, and the way he did this was as interesting - to Joe as the story had been. He had a voice of wonderful strength and - power, as penetrating and as melodious as the notes of a cornet. On a - still day, when there was a little moisture in the air, Harbert could make - himself heard two miles. The range over which the hogs roamed was at least - a mile and a half from the pen. In calling them the negro broke into a - song. It was only the refrain that the distant hogs could hear, but as it - went echoing over the hills and valleys it seemed to Joe to be the very - essence of melody. The song was something like this: - </p> - <h3> - HOG-FEEDER S SONG. - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, rise up, my ladies, lissen unter me, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I’m a-gwine dis night fer ter knock along er you. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, de stars look bright des like dey gwineter fall, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - En’way todes sundown you hear de killdee call: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Stee-wee! Killdee! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - De blue barrer squeal kaze he can’t squeeze froo, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - En he hump up he back, des like niggers do— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, humpty-umpty blue! Pig-gee! Pig-goo! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I’m a-gwine dis night a gallantin’ out wid you! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-hoo! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ole sow got sense des ez sho’s youer bo’n - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ‘Kaze she tak’n hunch de baskit fer ter shatter out co’n— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ma’am, you makes too free! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - W’en de pig git fat he better stay close, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ‘Kaze fat pig nice fer ter hide out en’ roas’— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - En he taste mighty good in de barbecue! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, roas’ pig, shoo! ‘N-yum! dat barbecue! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I’m a-gwine dis night fer ter knock aroun’ wid you! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Marse Joe,” said Harbert, after he had counted the hogs to see that none - were missing, “I got sumpin’ at my house fer you. I’m layin’ off fer ter - fetch it dis ve’y night.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Tain’t much,” said Harbert. “Des some ’simmon beer an’ some ginger-cake.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m very much obliged to you,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ’tain’t me,” said Harbert, quickly. “I was puttin’ up de - carriage-horses las’ night when I hear somebody callin’ me, an’ I went ter - de fence, an’ dar wuz a nigger’oman wid a jug in one han’ an’ a bundle in - de udder, an’ she say dar wuz some ’simmon beer an’ some ginger-cakes, an’ - she up an’ ax me would I be so compleasant fer to give um ter Marse Joe - Maxwell, an’ I ’lowed dat I’d be so compleasant.” - </p> - <p> - “Who was the woman?” Joe asked. - </p> - <p> - “She some kin ter Mink,” answered Harbert, evasively. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what kin?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “She ain’t so mighty much kin, needer,” said Harbert. “She des his wife. - She ’low dat ef you got any washin’ er darnin’ dat you want done she be - glad ter do it, an’ den I say, ‘Shoo nigger ’oman! G’way fum here! What - you speck my wife here fer?’” - </p> - <p> - Here Harbert tried to look indignant, but failed. Presently he continued: - “Dat are ’simmon beer got sign in it.” - </p> - <p> - “What sign is that?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh, when ’simmonses is ripe hit’s a shore sign dat ’possum ready - ter eat, an’ tain’t gwine ter be long ’fo’ you hear me a-hollerin’ ’roun’ - thoo de woods, mo’ speshually if I kin git holt er dem dogs what dat - Gaither boy got. When it come ter ’possum an’ coon dey er de outdoin’est - dogs you ever is lay yo’ eyes on.” - </p> - <p> - “I can get the dogs any time,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh,” said Harbert with enthusiasm, “atter to-night you can’t git - um too soon.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—OLD ZIP COON - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>im-Polk Gaither - was very glad to go hunting with Joe Maxwell, having taken a strong boyish - liking to the lad, and so one Saturday evening he came over to the Turner - place with his dogs, Jolly and Loud. They were large, fine-looking hounds, - and Joe examined them with interest. Their color was black and tan, and - each had two little yellow spots over his eyes. Loud was the heavier of - the two, and Jim-Polk explained that he had “the best nose” and the best - voice, and yet he declared that in some respects Jolly was the best dog. - </p> - <p> - Harbert had already prepared for the hunt, and he soon made his appearance - with an axe and a bundle of fat twine to be used for torches. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” said Jim-Polk, “what kind of game do you want? Shall it be - ’possum or coon?” - </p> - <p> - “Dat’s for Marse Joe to say,” said Harbert, - </p> - <p> - “These are mighty funny dogs,” explained Jim-Polk. “If you start out wi’ a - light, they’ll hunt ’possums all night long. If you go into the woods an’ - fetch a whoop or two before you strike a light, they won’t notice no - ’possum; but you better believe they’ll make old Zip Coon lift hisself - off’n the ground. So whichever you want you’ll have to start out right.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0105.jpg" alt="0105 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0105.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “’Possum mighty good,” said Harbert, seeing Joe hesitate. - </p> - <p> - “Lots of fun in runnin’ a coon,” said Jim-Polk. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Joe, “let’s start without a light.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat settles it,” exclaimed Harbert, with a good-humored grimace. “I done - bin hunt wid deze dogs befo’.” - </p> - <p> - “You must have stole ’em out,” said Jim-Polk. - </p> - <p> - “No, suh,” replied Harbert, “I went wid Mink.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish to goodness,” exclaimed Jim-Polk, “that Mink was at home. Pap, he - sides with the overseer, but when I get a little bigger I’m a-goin’ to - whirl in and give that overseer a frail-in’, if it’s the last act.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you talkin’!” said Harbert, with emphasis. - </p> - <p> - It was some time before they got free of the pasture-land, and then they - went by Mr. Snelson’s, so that Joe might change his clothes for a rougher - suit. That genial gentleman was very much interested in the hunt, and he - finally persuaded himself to go. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll go,” said he, “joost to pertect the lads. It’s a fine mess I’m after - gettin’ into, and it’s all on account of me good feelin’s. They’ll be the - death of me some day, and thin a fine man’ll be gone wit’ nobuddy to take - his place.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Snelson was so enthusiastic that he wanted to lead the way, but after - he had fallen over a stump and rushed headlong into a brush-heap, he was - content to give the lead to Harbert. - </p> - <p> - Jim-Polk, who was bringing up the rear with Joe Maxwell, gave the latter - to understand that even if they didn’t catch a coon, they’d have a good - deal of fun with the genial printer. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll have fun with him,” said Jim-Polk, “if we don’t have to tote him - home.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Snelson kept up a running fire of conversation, which was only - interrupted when he stepped into a hole or a ditch. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve often read of chasing the raccoon,” he said, “but it never occurred - to me mind it was anything approachin’ this. You’re right sure it’s the - regular thing?” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll think so before you get back home,” remarked Jim-Polk. Harbert, - knowing what these words really meant, laughed loudly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, well,” said the genial printer, “if it’s all a joke, I’d as well - turn in me tracks and go home.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “Don’t go home. If you think it’s a joke - when we get through with it, you may have my hat.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat’s so,” cried Harbert. “Dat’s so, sho! An’ ef he wuz ter git de hat, I - speck I’d ha’ ter he’p’m tote it. Yasser! Dat what I speck.” - </p> - <p> - The enthusiastic Mr. Snelson and Harbert were ahead, and Joe Maxwell and - Jim-Polk brought up the rear. - </p> - <p> - “I hope my dogs’ll behave their selves tonight,” said young Gaither. “You - went on so about Bill Locke’s nigger dogs that I want you to hear Jolly - and Loud when they get their bristles up. But they’re mighty quare. If - Loud strikes a trail first, Jolly will begin to pout. I call it poutin’. - He’ll run along with Loud, but he won’t open his mouth until the scent - gets hot enough to make him forget himself. If it’s a ’possum, he’ll let - old Loud do all the trailin’ and the treein’. You’d think there was only - one dog, but when you get to the tree you’ll find Jolly settin’ there just - as natchul as life.” - </p> - <p> - The hunters had now come to the lands bordering on Rocky Creek, and, even - while Jim-Polk was speaking, the voice of a dog was heard. Then it was - twice repeated—a mellow, far-reaching, inspiring sound, that caused - every nerve in Joe Maxwell’s body to tingle. - </p> - <p> - “Shucks!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, in a disgusted tone. “It’s old Loud, and we - won’t hear from Jolly till the coon’s track is hot enough to raise a - blister.” - </p> - <p> - Again Loud opened, and again, and always with increasing spirit, and his - voice, borne over the woods and fields on the night winds, was most - musical. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my goodness!” cried Jim-Polk; “if I had Jolly here, I’d kill him. No, - I wouldn’t, neither!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “Just listen! he’s - a-puttin’ in now!” With that he gave a yell that fairly woke the echoes - and caused Mr. Snelson to jump. - </p> - <p> - “Upon me soul!” said that worthy gentleman, “ye’ll never die wit’ - consumption. In me books I’ve read of them that made the welkin ring, but - I’ve never heard it rung before.” - </p> - <p> - “Shucks!” said Jim-Polk; “wait till Harbert there gets stirred up.” - </p> - <p> - It was true that Jolly, as Jim-Polk expressed it, had “put in.” The scent - was warm enough to cure his sulkiness. Running in harmony and giving mouth - alternately, and sometimes together, the music the two dogs made was - irresistibly inspiring, and when Harbert at intervals lifted up his voice - to cheer them on even Mr. Snelson glowed with excitement and enthusiasm. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then, Harbert,” said Jim-Polk, “you can light your carriage-lamps, - and by that time well know which way we’ve got to trot.” - </p> - <p> - The torches were soon lit, one for Jim-Polk and one for Harbert, and then - they paused to listen to the dogs. - </p> - <p> - “That coon has been caught out from home,” said Jim-Polk, after a pause. - “The dogs are between him and his hollow tree. He’s makin’ for that dreen - in pap’s ten-acre field. There’s a pond there, and old Zip has gone there - after a bait of frogs. Just wait till they turn his head this way.” - </p> - <p> - “Tut, tut, young man!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with something like a frown. - “Ye talk like somebody readin’ from a book—upon me word ye do—and - if that was all I’d not disagree wit’ ye; but ye go on and talk for all - the world like ye had yure two blessed eyes on the coon all the time. - Come! if ye know all that, how d’ye know it?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir,” said Jim-Polk, “the coon is three quarters of an hour ahead - of the dogs—maybe a little more, maybe a little less. How do I know - it? Why, because I know my dogs. They ain’t on their mettle. They ain’t - runnin’ at more than half speed, if that. I can tell by the way they open - on the trail. Old Loud is takin’ his time. When he gets the coon started - home you’ll hear him fairly lumber. How do I know the coon is goin’ away - from home? Shucks! My sev’n senses tell me that. We started out early. So - did old Zip. He was at the pond huntin’ for frogs when he heard old Louder - open. If he’s struck out on t’other side of the dreen we’ll have to wait - tell the dogs fetch him back to the creek. If he struck out on this side, - he’ll come right down the hollow below here. Let’s see what the dogs say.” - </p> - <p> - “Deyer ’livenin’ up,” said Harbert. - </p> - <p> - The hunters walked a few hundred yards to the verge of the slope that led - to the bed of the creek. Suddenly the dogs were silent. Ten seconds—twenty; - a half-minute passed, and nothing could be heard of the dogs. - </p> - <p> - “We may as well return home,” said Mr. Snelson. “The ravenous beasts have - overtaken him, and they’ll lay by till they’ve devoured him. Upon me soul, - it’s queer tastes they have!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” replied Jim-Polk. “Dogs’ll eat rabbits and squirrels, but they - never eat coons nor ’possums. You’ll hear from Jolly and Loud terreckly, - and then they’ll be a-gallantin’ old Zip home. Just listen!” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke Loud gave mouth with a roar that filled the woods, and he was - immediately joined by Jolly, whose quicker and more decisive voice chimed - in as a pleasant accompaniment. - </p> - <p> - “They are cornin’ right this way!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, breathlessly. - “Don’t make a fuss—just be right still, so’s not to skeer the coon - across the creek. Jewhillikens! Jest listen at old Loud a-lumberin’!” - </p> - <p> - And it was worth listening to. The mettle of the dog—of both dogs—was - now fairly up, and they gave voice with a heat and vigor that could hardly - have been improved upon if they had been in sight of the fleeing raccoon. - They seemed to be running at full speed. They passed within twenty yards - of where the hunters stood, snorting fiercely as they caught their breath - to bark. As they went by, Harbert sent a wild halloo after them that - seemed to add to their ardor. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” exclaimed Jim-Polk, “we’ve got to go. You take the axe, - Harbert, and let Joe take your light.” - </p> - <p> - Raising his torch aloft, Jim-Polk sprang forward after the dogs, closely - followed by Joe Maxwell and Harbert, while Mr. Snelson brought up the - rear. The clever printer was not a woodsman, and he made his way through - the undergrowth and among the trees with great difficulty. Once, when he - paused for a moment to disentangle his legs from the embrace of a bamboo - brier, he found himself left far in the rear, and he yelled lustily to his - companions. - </p> - <p> - “Mother of Moses!” he exclaimed at the top of his voice, “will ye be after - leavin’ me in the wilderness?” - </p> - <p> - But for the quick ear of Harbert, he would assuredly have been left. The - other hunters waited for him, and he came up puffing and blowing. - </p> - <p> - “I could cut a cord o’ wood wit’ half the exertion!” he exclaimed. “Come, - boys! let’s sit down an’ have an understandin’. Me legs and me whole body - politic have begun for to cry out agin this harum-scarum performance. - Shall we go slower, or shall ye pick me up an’ carry me?” - </p> - <p> - The boys were willing to compromise, but in the ardor of the chase they - would have forgotten Mr. Snelson if that worthy gentleman had not made his - presence known by yelling at them whenever they got too far ahead. The - dogs ran straight down the creek for a mile at full speed. Suddenly - Jim-Polk cried out: - </p> - <p> - “They’ve treed!” - </p> - <p> - “Yasser!” said Harbert, with a loud whoop; “dey mos’ sholy is!” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said Mr. Snelson, sarcastically, “the fun is all over—the - jig is up.’Tis a thousand pities.” - </p> - <p> - “Not much!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “The fun’s just begun. A coon ain’t kotch - jest because he’s up a tree.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir,” said Mr. Snelson, with a serious air, “if they’ve got wings, - upon me soul, we should have fetched a balloon.” - </p> - <p> - When the hounds were trailing there was a mellow cadence in their tones - which was not to be heard when they barked at the tree. They gave mouth - more deliberately, and in a measured way. - </p> - <p> - When the hunters arrived the hounds were alternately baying and gnawing at - the foot of the tree. - </p> - <p> - “Bark to bark!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with much solemnity. His little - joke was lost on all save Joe Maxwell, who was too much interested in the - coon to laugh at it. - </p> - <p> - Much to Harbert’s delight, the tree was not a large one, and he made - immediate preparations to cut it down. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a minit,” said Jim-Polk. “This coon ain’t at home, and we’d better - be certain of the tree he is in.” - </p> - <p> - “You must have been visitin’ him,” said the genial printer, “for how de ye - know about his home, else?” - </p> - <p> - “Some of these days,” said Jim-Polk, laughing, “I’ll come to your house - an’ stay to dinner, an’ tell you about how coons live in holler trees.” - </p> - <p> - “Fetch your dinner wit’ ye,” responded Snelson, “and ye’re more than - welcome.” - </p> - <p> - Jim-Polk was too busy to make a reply. Holding the torch behind him, and - waving it slowly, he walked around the tree. He appeared to be - investigating his own shadow, which flickered and danced in the leaves and - branches. Now stooping and peering, now tiptoeing and craning his neck, - now leaning to the right and now to the left, he looked into the top of - the tree. Finally, he exclaimed: - </p> - <p> - “Here he is, Joe! Come, take a look at him.” - </p> - <p> - Joe tried his best to see the coon. He looked where Jim-Polk pointed, - taking sight along his finger, but he was obliged to confess that he could - see nothing. - </p> - <p> - “Gracious alive!” cried Jim-Polk, “can’t you see his eyes a-shinin’ in the - leaves there?” - </p> - <p> - “Pshaw!” exclaimed Joe; “I was looking for the whole coon, and I thought - the shiny things were stars showing between the leaves.” But no stars ever - burned as steadily as the pale-green little orbs that shone in the tree. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe,” said Mr. Snelson, after trying in vain to “shine” the coon’s eyes—“maybe - the creature has left his eyes there and escaped.” But the others paid no - attention to his jocularity. - </p> - <p> - “The thing to do now, Harbert,” said Jim-Polk, “is to lay that tree where - it won’t hit up agin no other tree, because if we don’t we’ll have to be - a-cuttin’ an’ a-slashin’ in here all night.” - </p> - <p> - “So!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, in a tragic tone. “Well, then, I’ll der-raw - the der-rapery of me couch about me and lie down to pleasant der-reams!” - </p> - <p> - “You see,” said Jim-Polk, “if that tree hits agin another tree, off goes - Mr. Zip Coon into t’other one. Coon is quicker’n lightnin’ on the jump.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll make’er fall out dat way.” Harbert indicated an open place by a wave - of his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Upon me soul!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, “I didn’t know you could make a - tree fall up hill.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, suh!” said Harbert, with pardonable pride. “I done cleaned out too - many new groun’s. I lay I kin drive a stob out dar an’ put de body er dish - yer tree right ’pon top un it. I kin dat!” - </p> - <p> - With that Harbert rolled up his sleeves, displaying the billowy muscles of - his arms, wiped the blade of the axe, spat in his hands, swung the axe - around his head, and buried it deep in the body of the water-oak. It was a - sweeping, downward stroke, and it was followed quickly by others until in - a very short time the tree began to sway a little. The dogs, which had - ceased their baying, now became restless and ran wildly about, but always - keeping a safe distance from the tree. Mr. Snelson took his stand on one - side and Joe Maxwell on the other, while Jim-Polk went out where the tree - was to fall, after cautioning Harbert to keep a lookout for the coon. The - advice to Harbert was given with good reason, for it is a favorite trick - of the raccoon to start down the body of the tree as it falls and leap off - while the dogs and hunters are looking for him in the bushy top. - </p> - <p> - This coon made the same experiment. As the tree swayed forward and fell, - he ran down the trunk. Mr. Snelson saw him, gave a squall, and rushed - forward to grab him. At the same moment Harbert gave a yell that was a - signal to the dogs, and the excited creatures plunged toward him. Whether - it was Jolly or whether it was Loud, no one ever knew, but one of the - dogs, in his excitement, ran between Mr. Snel-son’s legs. That gentleman’s - heels flew in the air, and he fell on his back with a resounding thump. - Stunned and frightened, he hardly knew what had happened. The last thing - he saw was the coon, and he concluded that he had captured the animal. - </p> - <p> - “Murder!” he screamed. “Run here an’ take ’em off! Run here! I’ve got - ’em!” - </p> - <p> - Then began a terrific struggle between Mr. Snelson and a limb of the tree - that just touched his face, and this he kept up until he was lifted to his - feet. He made a ridiculous spectacle as he stood there glaring angrily - around as if trying to find the man or the animal that had knocked him - down and pummeled him. His coat was ripped and torn, and his pantaloons - were split at both knees. He seemed to realize the figure he cut in the - eyes of his companions. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, laugh away!” he cried. “’Tis yure opportunity. The next time it will - be at some one else ye’re laughing. Upon me soul!” he went on, examining - himself, “I’d ha’ fared better in the battle of Manassus. So this is your - coon-hunting, is it? If the Lord and the coon’ll forgive me for me share - in this night’s worruk, the devil a coon will I hunt any more whatever.” - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile the coon had jumped from the tree, with the hounds close behind - him. They had overrun him on the hill, and this gave him an opportunity to - get back to the swamp, where the dogs could not follow so rapidly. Yet the - coon had very little the advantage. As Jim-Polk expressed it, “the dogs - had their teeth on edge,” and they were rushing after him without any - regard for brake or brier, lagoon or quagmire. The only trouble was with - Mr. Snelson, who declared that he was fagged out. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Jim-Polk, “we’ve got to keep in hearin’ of the dogs. The best - we can do is to fix you up with a light an’ let you follow along the best - way you can. You couldn’t get lost if you wanted to, ’cause all you’ve got - to do is to follow the creek, an’ you’re boun’ to ketch up with us.” - </p> - <p> - So Mr. Snelson, in spite of his prediction that he would get lost in the - wilderness, and be devoured by the wild beasts, to say nothing of being - frightened to death by owls, was provided with a torch. Then the boys and - Harbert made a dash in the direction of the dogs. If they thought to leave - Mr. Snelson, they reckoned ill, for that worthy man, flourishing the torch - over his head, managed to keep them in sight. - </p> - <p> - “The dogs are not very far away,” said Joe. “They ought to have gone a - couple of miles by this time.” - </p> - <p> - “Old Zip is in trouble,” said Jim-Polk. “He has been turnin’ an’ doublin’, - an’ twistin’, an’ squirmin’. He can’t shake ole Loud off, an’ he can’t git - home. So what’s he goin’ to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Climb another tree, I reckon,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Not much!” exclaimed Jim. “He’ll take to water.” - </p> - <p> - The dogs got no farther away, but the chase still kept up. The coon seemed - to be going in all directions, across and around, and presently the dogs - began to bay. - </p> - <p> - “He’s gone in a-washin’!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, with a yell. - </p> - <p> - “Bless me soul! and how do ye know that?” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, who came - up puffing and blowing. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know mor’n that,” said Jim-Polk. “The coon’s in the water, ’cause - when the dogs bark at him it don’t soun’ like it did when they had their - heads in the air; an’ he’s in swimmin’ water, ’cause, if he wan’t, he’d a’ - been kilt by this time.” - </p> - <p> - It was as Jim-Polk said. When the hunters reached the dogs they could see - the coon swimming around and around in the center of a small lagoon, while - the dogs were rushing about on the banks. - </p> - <p> - “I wish to goodness,” exclaimed Harbert, “dat dey wuz some young dogs wid - us, bekaze den we’d have de biggest kind er fight. Dey’d swim in dar atter - dat coon, an’ he’d fetch um a swipe er two, an’ den jump on der heads an’ - duck um. Gentermens! he sholy is a big un.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re right!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “He’s one of the old-timers. He’d put - up a tremen-jus fight if he didn’t have old Loud to tackle.—Fetch - him out, boys!” he cried to the dogs, “fetch him out!” - </p> - <p> - Long experience had taught the dogs their tactics. Jolly swam in and - engaged the coon’s attention, while Loud followed, swimming sidewise - toward the center. Jolly swam around slowly, while Loud seemed to drift - toward the coon, still presenting a broadside, so to speak. The coon, - following the movements of Jolly, had paid no attention to Loud. Suddenly - he saw the dog, and sprang at him, but it was too late. Loud ducked his - head, and, before the coon could recover, fastened his powerful jaws on - the creature’s ribs. There was a loud squall, a fierce shake, and the - battle was over. - </p> - <p> - But before the dog could bring the coon to the bank, Mr. Snelson uttered a - paralyzing shriek and ran for the water. Harbert tried to hold him back. - </p> - <p> - “Ouch! loose me! loose me! I’ll brain ye if ye don’t loose me!” - </p> - <p> - Shaking Harbert off, the printer ran to the edge of the lagoon, and soused - his hand and arm in the water. In his excitement he had held the torch - straight over his head, and the hot pitch from the fat pine had run on his - hand and down his sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “Look at me!” he exclaimed, as they went slowly homeward. “Just look at - me! The poor wife’ll have to doctor me body an’ darn me clothes, an’ - they’re all I’ve got to me name. If ye’ll stand by me, Joe,” he went on - pathetically, “I’ll do your worruk meself, but ye shall have two - afternoons next week.” And Joe Maxwell “stood by” Mr. Snelson the best he - could. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—SOMETHING ABOUT “SANDY-CLAUS” - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>arbert’s house on - the Turner place was not far from the kitchen, and the kitchen itself was - only a few feet removed from the big house; in fact, there was a covered - passageway between them. From the back steps of the kitchen two pieces of - hewn timber, half buried in the soil, led to Harbert’s steps, thus - forming, as the negro called it, a wet-weather path, over which Mr. - Turner’s children could run when the rest of the yard had been made muddy - by the fall and winter rains. - </p> - <p> - Harbert’s house had two rooms and two fireplaces. One of the rooms was set - apart for him and his wife, while the other was used as a weaving-room. In - one Harbert used to sit at night and amuse the children with his - reminiscences and his stories; in the other Aunt Crissy used to weave all - day and sing, keeping time with the flying shuttle and the dancing slays. - The children might tire of their toys, their ponies, and everything else, - but they could always find something to interest them in Harbert’s house. - There were few nights, especially during the winter, that did not find - them seated by the negro’s white hearthstone. On special occasions they - could hardly wait to finish supper before going out to see him. Sometimes - they found Aunt Crissy there, and as she was fat and good-humored—not - to say jolly—she was always a welcome guest, so far as the children - were concerned. As for Harbert, it was all one to him whether Aunt Crissy - was present or not. To use his own sententious phrase, she was welcome to - come or she was welcome to stay away. Frequently Joe Maxwell would go and - sit there with them, especially when he was feeling lonely and homesick. - </p> - <p> - One evening, in the early part of December, the children hurried through - their supper of bread and butter and milk, and ran to Harbert’s house. - Aunt Crissy was there, and her fat face and white teeth shone in the - firelight as she sat smiling at the youngsters. - </p> - <p> - “I done got Chris’mas in my bones,” she was saying, as Wattie and Willie - entered. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I ain’t g wine ter say dat,” said Har-bert, “kaze I’m dat ole dat I - ain’t got no roo-mance in my bones fer nothin’ ’tall, ’ceppin’ ’tis de - rheumatism; yit dat don’t hender Chris’mas, an’ I ain’t makin’ no deniance - but what hit’s in de a’r.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you er talkin’,” exclaimed Aunt Crissy, with unction. “You mos’ sholy - is.” - </p> - <p> - There was a little pause, and then Harbert cried out: - </p> - <p> - “In de name er goodness, des lissen at dat!” - </p> - <p> - What was it? The wind, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing like the - great waves of the sea, whistled under the eaves, and sighed mournfully - over the chimney. But it was not the wind that Harbert heard. There was a - sharp rattling on the shingles and a swift pattering at the windows. - Harbert and Aunt Crissy looked at each other and then at the children. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” asked Wattie, drawing a little closer to Harbert. - </p> - <p> - “Pshaw! I know what it is,” said Willie, “it’s sleet.” Harbert shook his - head gravely as he gazed in the fire. - </p> - <p> - “It mought be,” he said, “an’ den agin it moughtn’t. It mought be ole - Sandy Claus sorter skirmishin’ roun’ an’ feelin’ his way.” - </p> - <p> - “Trufe, too,” said Aunt Crissy, falling in with the idea. “He moughtn’t - want to skeer nobody, so he des let folks b’lieve tain’t nothin’ but - sleet. Dey tells me dat ole man Sandy Claus is monstus slick.” - </p> - <p> - “He bleedze ter be slick,” remarked Har-bert, “kaze I bin livin’ yere, off - an’ on, a mighty long time, an’ I ain’t saw ’im yit. An’ I let you know - hit got ter be a mighty slick man dat kin dodge me all dis time. He got to - be bofe slick an’ peart.” - </p> - <p> - “Yasser,” said Aunt Crissy, holding her apron up by the corner, and - looking at it thoughtfully; “he slick fer true. He light ’pon top er de - house same ez a jay-bird, an’ dey ain’t no scufflin’ when he slide down de - chimberly.” - </p> - <p> - “Dey sez,” said Harbert, in a reminiscent way—“dey sez dat he rubs - hisse’f wid goose-grease fer ter make he j’ints limber an’ loose; when he - got dis yere grease on ’im dey can’t nobody ketch ’im, kaze he’d slip - right out’n der han’s.” - </p> - <p> - “I speck dat’s so,” said Aunt Crissy, “kaze one time when I wuz livin’ wid - Marse Willyum Henry an’ sleepin’ in de house in time er Chris’mas, I - tuck’n he’p’d de chillun hang up der stockin’s. After dey all got ter bed, - I sot by de fier a-noddin’. How long I sot dar I’ll never tell you, but - all of a sudden I yeard a tumble racket. I gun a jump, I did, an’ open my - eyes. De outside do’ wuz open, an’ stannin’ dar wuz one er Marse Willyum - Henry’s houn’ dogs. He stood dar, he did, wid his bristles up, an’ dar in - de middle er the flo’ wuz de ole cat. Her back wuz all bowed up, an’ her - tail”—here Aunt Crissy paused and looked all around the room as if - in search of something with which to compare the old cat’s tail—“I - ain’t tellin’ you no lie; dat cat tail wuz bigger ’roun’ dan my arm!” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t ’spute it,” exclaimed Harbert, with fervor, “dat I don’t.” - </p> - <p> - “An’ dat ain’t all.” Aunt Crissy closed her eyes and threw her head back, - as if to add emphasis to what she was about to say. “Dat ain’t all—dem - ar stockin’s wuz done fulled up wid goodies, an’ dey wuz done fulled up - whilst I wuz a-settin’ right dar.” No style of type has yet been invented - that would convey even a faint idea of the impressive tone in which Aunt - Cissy made this startling announcement. - </p> - <p> - “Ole Sandy wuz gittin’ you in close quarters, mon,” exclaimed Harbert. - </p> - <p> - “Man, you er talkin’ now,” said Aunt Crissy. “I wuz settin’ right spang at - de fier-place,” she went on, describing her position with appropriate - gestures, “an’ I could er des retched out my han’—so—an’ - totched de stock-in’s, an’ yit, ’spite er dat, ’long come ole Sandy Claus, - whilst I wuz settin’ dar noddin’ an’ fulled um up. Dat des what he done. - He come, he did, an’ fulled um up right fo’ my face. Ef my eyes had er des - bin open I’d a seed ’im, an’ ef I’d a seed ’im, I’d a grabbed ’im right by - de coat-tail. Yasser! I’d a grabbed ’im ef he’d a kyar’d me up de - chimberly.” - </p> - <p> - Wattie and Willie listened open-mouthed, so intense was their interest; - and so, it may be said, did Joe Maxwell. But now Willie spoke: - </p> - <p> - “Suppose you had caught him, Aunt Crissy, what would you have done then?” - </p> - <p> - “Shoo, honey! I’d a helt him hard an’ fas’: I’d a rastled wid ’im, an’ - when he’gun ter git de better un me, I’d a squalled out same ez one er dez - yere wil’ cats. I’d a squalled so loud I’d a fair ’larmed de settlement.” - </p> - <p> - Aunt Crissy paused, folded her fat arms across her broad bosom and looked - in the fire. Harbert, with a long pair of tongs, as musical as those that - Shakespeare wrote about, put the noses of the chunks together, and - carefully placed a fat pine knot in the center. Then he leaned back in his - chair, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said he, after a while, “I dunno ez I bin close to ole Sandy Claus - as what you is, Sis Crissy, but I bin mighty close, an’ ’tain’t bin so - mighty long ago needer. One night des ’fo’ Chris’mas I wuz gwine’long thoo - de woods close by de Ward place. I wuz gwine’long, I wuz, sorter studyin’ - wid myse’f ’bout whedder I ought ter hang up my stockin’s wid de res’ er - de folks, when, fus news I know, look like I kin year de win’ blowin’. Hit - soun’ so loud dat I stop right in my tracks an ax mysef what de name er - goodness is de matter. I ain’t feel no win’ an’ I ain’t see no bush - shakin’, but up dar in de top er de trees hit look like dey wuz a reg’lar - hurrycane a blowin’. Man, sir! she fair roared up dar, yit I ain’t see no - win’, an’ I ain’t see no bush a shakin’. Hit make me feel so quare dat ef - a hick’y-nut had a drapped any-whar nigh me, I’d a broke an’ run fum dar - like de Ole Boy wuz atter me. Hit make me feel so funny dat I ain’t know - whedder it wuz ole man Harbert out dar, or some yuther nigger dat done got - los’ in some new country. I stood dar, I did, en des waited fer sump’n ner - ter happen, but bimeby de noise all quit, an’ de roarin’ died down, twel - you could a yeard a pin drop. I kotch my bref, I did, an’ I’low ter myself - dat all dat racket up in de a’r dar mus’ sholy a-bin ole Sandy Claus - agwine sailin’ by. Dat what I had in my min’, yit I ain’t stop dar fer ter - make no inquirements. I des put out, I did, an’ I went a polin’ home, an’ - it make me feel mighty good when I got dar.” - </p> - <p> - The children visited Harbert’s house every night for several nights before - Christmas, but somehow they didn’t seem to enjoy themselves. Harbert was - so busy with one thing and another that they felt themselves in the way. - They had the ardor and the hope of childhood, however, and they continued - their visits with persistent regularity. They were very patient, - comparatively speaking, and their patience was finally rewarded. - </p> - <p> - The night before Christmas, when their interests and expectations were on - the point of culmination, they found Harbert sitting in front of the fire, - his head thrown back and his hands folded in his lap; and before the - little ones could fix themselves comfortably, Aunt Crissy walked in and - flung herself into a chair. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Whoo-ee!</i>” she exclaimed. “I’m dat tired dat I can’t skacely drag - one foot ’fo’ de yuther. Look like I bin on my feet mighty nigh a mont’, - dat it do, an’ I’m dat stiff, I feel like some er my lim’s gwine ter break - in two. Dey ain’t nothin’ on dis plantation dat I ain’t had my han’s in, - ’specially ef it’s work. It’s Crissy yere, an Crissy dar, de whole blessed - time, an’ I dun’ ner what de lazy niggers’roun’ yere would do ef Crissy - wuz to take a notion ter peg out. Mistiss got old Charity in de kitchin’ - dar a-cookin’ an’ a-growlin’, but when dey’s any nice cookin’ ter be done, - Crissy got ter go an’ do it. I wouldn’t mind it so much,” Aunt Crissy went - on, “ef dem yuther niggers’d do like dey tuck some intruss in what’s gwine - on, but you know yo’se’f, Brer Harbert, how no’count dey is.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Lord! you nee’nt ter tell me, Sis Crissy, I know um; I know um all. - An’ yit dey’ll all be scrougin’ one ane’r ’fo’ day arter termorrow mornin’ - fer ter see which gwine ter be de fus fer ter holler Chris’mas gif’ at - marster an’ mistiss. Now you watch um! dey’ll all be dar, an’ dey ain’t - none un um skacely yearned der salt. I’m mighty nigh run down. Dis mornin’ - de stock in de lot wuz a hollerin’ fer der feed, an’ it wuz broad daylight - at dat. Den dar wuz de milkin’: hit wuz atter sun-up ’fo’ dat Marthy Ann - got ter de cow-pen. Dat gal blood kin ter you, Sis Crissy, but I done laid - de law down; I done tole’er dat de nex’ time she come creepin’ out dat - late, I wuz gwine to whirl in an’ gi’ ’er a frailin’, an’ I’m gwine to do - it ef de Lord spar’s me.” - </p> - <p> - “Nummine’bout no kinnery, Brer Harbert,” said Aunt Crissy, with emphasis. - “You des git you a brush an’ wa’r dat gal out. She new han’ wid de cows, - but tooby sho’ she kin git out ’fo’ sun-up.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m mighty glad,” Harbert remarked, glancing at the children, who were - not at all interested in the “worriments” of those faithful negroes—“I’m - mighty glad dat Chris’mas is so nigh. De corn done in de crib, de fodder - in de barn, de cotton’n de gin-house, de hogs done kilt an’ put up, an’ ef - Charity ain’t might’ly behindhand de turkey done in de pot. Dat bein’ de - case, what mo’ kin we ax, ’ceptin’ we git down yere on de flo’ an’ ax a - blessin’?” - </p> - <p> - “Trufe, too!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “I ain’t quollin’, but dem niggers is - so owdacious lazy dat dey keeps me pestered.” - </p> - <p> - “Yasser!” continued Harbert, “de signs all look like deyer right. When I - sets right flat down an’ run it all over, hit make me feel so good dat I - got a great mine fer ter hang up my sock right dar side er de chimbly-jam, - an’ set up yere an’ watch fer ter see ole Sandy Claus come a-slidin’ down. - Ef his foot wuz ter slip, an’ he wuz ter drap down on dat pot-rack dar, I - lay he’d wake up de whole plantation. My sock ain’t so mighty long in de - leg,” Harbert went on, reflectively, “but she mighty big in de foot, an’ - ef ole Sandy Claus wuz ter take a notion fer ter fill’er plum up, she’d - lighten his wallet might’ly.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hang up your stockings, Harbert?” asked Willie. - </p> - <p> - “Why, tooby sho’ honey,” replied the negro, laughing. “I bin hang um up - way back yander ’fo’ you wuz born’d. An’ I used ter git goodies in um, - too. Lord! dem wuz times, sho’ nuff. I used ter git goodies in um dem - days, but now I speck I wouldn’t git so much ez a piece er ’lasses candy. - But, nummine’bout dat! I’ll des take en hang um up dis night, an’ I’ll be - mighty glad ef I git a slishe er cracklin’ bread. Dat kinder bread good - nuff for me, ’specially when it right fresh.” - </p> - <p> - “Man, don’t talk!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “Look like I kin in about tas’e - it now!” - </p> - <p> - “Aunt Crissy, are you going to hang up your stockings?” asked Wattie. - </p> - <p> - “Bless yo’ soul, honey! I mos’ got in de notion un it. Ef ’twan’t dat I’m - a sleepin’ up in old Granny Chaney house fer ter sorter keep’er comp’ny, I - speck I would hang um up. But dey tells me dat ’twon’t do no good ef you - hang up yo’ stockin’s in some un else house. ‘Sides dat, ole Granny Chaney - so restless dat she’d in about skeer old Sandy Claus off ef he ’uz to - start ter come. I’m a tellin’ you de trufe, Brer Harbert, dat ole creetur - done got so dat she don’t skacely close’er eyes fer sleep de whole blessed - night. She take so many naps endurin’ ’er de day, dat when night come she - des ez wakeful ez dat ole black cat what stay up dar at de barn.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat ole’oman gittin’ ole, mon,” said Har-bert. “She wuz done grown an’ - had chillun when I wuz little baby. She lots older dan what I is, an’ I - ain’t no chicken myse’f. I speck ef she ’uz ter go back an’ count up ’er - Chris-’mases, she done seed mighty nigh ez many ez what ole Sandy Claus - is.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Aunt Crissy, changing the subject, “I ain’t gwine hang up no - stockin’, kaze I speck dat whatsomever ole Sandy Claus got fer me, he’ll - drap it som’rs in de big house, an’ when I holler at marster an’ mistiss - in de morn-in’, dey’ll fetch it out.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat’s so,” said Harbert. “Yit I got a mighty good notion fer ter hang up - mine an’ take de resk. But I’d a heap ruther git sumpin’ dat’s too big fer - ter go in um.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we are going to hang up our stockings,” said Willie. “I’m going to - hang up both of mine, and Wattie says she’s going to hang up both of - hers.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat’s right, honey; an’ if dat ain’t ’nuff’ whirl in an’ hang up a - meal-sack. I done bin year tell ’fo’ now ’bout folks what hang up great - big bags stidder der stocking. Whedder dey got any mo’ dan t’er folks is - mo’ dan I kin tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Harbert,” said Wattie, “do you reckon we’ll git anything at all?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I speck so,” said the negro. “I ain’t year talk er you bein’ so - mighty bad dis long time. You cuts up scan’lous sometimes, but it’s kaze - yo’ buddy dar pesters you.” - </p> - <p> - This suggestion made Willie so angry that he threatened to go back to the - big house and go to bed, and he would have gone but for a remark made by - Aunt Crissy—a remark that made him forget his anger. - </p> - <p> - “Dey tells me,” said Aunt Crissy, in a sub-dued tone, “dat de cows know - when Chris’mas come, an’ many’s de time I year my mammy say dat when - twelve o’clock come on Chris’mas-eve night, de cows gits down on der knees - in de lot an’ stays dat-away some little time. Ef anybody else had er tole - me dat I’d a des hooted at um, but, mammy, she say she done seed um do it. - I ain’t never seed um do it myse’f, but mammy say she seed um.” - </p> - <p> - “I bin year talk er dat myse’f,” said Harbert, reverently, “an’ dey tells - me dat de cattle gits down an’ prays bekaze dat’s de time when de Lord an’ - Saviour wuz born’d.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, don’t dat beat all!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “Ef de dumb creeturs kin - say der pra’rs, I dunner what folks ought ter be doin’.” - </p> - <p> - “An’ dar’s de chickens,” Harbert went on—“look like dey know der’s - sump’n up. Dis ve’y night I year de roosters crowin’ fo’ sev’n o’clock. I - year tell dat dey crows so soon in sign dat Peter made deniance un his - Lord an’ Marster.” - </p> - <p> - “I speck dat’s so,” said Aunt Crissy. - </p> - <p> - “Hit bleedze ter be so,” responded the old man with the emphasis that - comes from conviction. - </p> - <p> - Then he intimated that it was time for the children to go to bed if they - wanted to get up early the next morning to see what Sandy Claus had - brought. This was a suggestion the youngsters could appreciate, and they - scrambled out of the door and went racing to the big house. - </p> - <p> - Before sunrise the plantation was in a stir. The negroes, rigged out in - their Sunday clothes, were laughing, singing, wrestling, and playing. The - mules and horses having been fed and turned in the pasture for a holiday, - were capering about; the cows were lowing in a satisfied manner, the dogs - were barking, the geese screaming, the turkeys “yelping” and gobbling, and - the chickens cackling. A venerable billy-goat, with a patriarchal beard - and the rings of many summers marked on his broad and crumpled horns, had - marched up one of the long arms of the packing-screw and was now perched - motionless on the very pinnacle of that quaint structure, making a - picturesque addition to the landscape, as he stood outlined against the - reddening eastern sky. - </p> - <p> - Willie and Wattie were up so early that they had to feel for their - stockings in the dark, and their exclamations of delight, when they found - them well filled, aroused the rest of the household. By the time breakfast - was over the negroes were all assembled in the yard, and they seemed to be - as happy as the children, as their laughter and their antics testified. - Towering above them all was Big Sam, a giant in size and a child in - disposition. He was noted for miles around for his feats of strength. He - could shoulder a bale of cotton weighing five hundred pounds, and place it - on a wagon; and though he was proud of his ability in this direction, he - was not too proud to be the leader in all the frolics. He was even fuller - of laughter and good-humor than his comrades, and on this particular - morning, while the negroes were waiting for the usual Christmas - developments, Big Sam, his eyes glistening and his white teeth shining, - struck up the melody of a plantation play-song, and in a few minutes the - dusky crowd had arranged itself in groups, each and all joining in the - song. No musical director ever had a more melodious chorus than that which - followed the leadership of Big Sam. It was not a trained chorus, to be - sure, but the melody that it gave to the winds of the morning was - freighted with a quality indescribably touching and tender. - </p> - <p> - In the midst of the song Mr. Turner appeared on the back piazza, and - instantly a shout went up: - </p> - <p> - “Chris’mas gif, marster! Chris’mas gif!” and then, a moment later, there - was a cry of “Chris’mas gif, mistiss!” - </p> - <p> - “Where is Harbert?” inquired Mr. Turner, waving his hand and smiling. - </p> - <p> - “Here me, marster!” exclaimed Harbert, coming forward from one of the - groups. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you haven’t been playing, have you?” - </p> - <p> - “I bin tryin’ my han’, suh, an’ I monst’ us glad you come out, kaze I - ain’t nimble like I useter wuz. Dey got me in de middle er dat ring dar, - an’ I couldn’t git out nohow.” - </p> - <p> - “Here are the store-room keys. Go and open the door, and I will be there - directly.” - </p> - <p> - It was a lively crowd that gathered around the wide door of the - store-room. For each of the older ones there was a stiff dram apiece, and - for all, both old and young, there was a present of some kind. The - presents were of a substantial character, too. Those who had made crops of - their own found a profitable market right at their master’s door. Some of - them had made as much as two bales of cotton on the land they were - permitted to cultivate, while others had made good crops of corn—all - of which was bought by their master. - </p> - <p> - Then the big six-mule wagon was brought into service, and into this was - packed the horse-collars, made of shucks and wahoo-bark, the baskets, the - foot-mats, the brooms, the walking-canes, and the axe-helves, that were to - find a market in the town nine miles away. - </p> - <p> - In spite of the war, it was a happy time, and Joe Maxwell was as happy as - any of the rest. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ll was peace on - the plantation, but war has long arms, and it dropped its gifts of poverty - and privation in many a humble home with which Joe Maxwell was familiar. - War has its bill of fare, too, and much of it was not to Joe’s taste. For - coffee there were various substitutes: sweet potatoes, chipped and dried, - parched meal, parched rye, parched okra-seeds, and sassafras tea. Joe’s - beverage was water sweetened with sorghum-sirup, and he found it a very - refreshing and wholesome drink. Some of the dishes that were popular in - the old colonial days were revived. There was persimmon bread; what could - be more toothsome than that? Yet a little of it went a long way, as Mr. - Wall used to say. And there was potato pone—sweet potatoes boiled, - kneaded, cut into pones, and baked. And then there was callalou—a - mixture of collards, poke salad, and turnip greens boiled for dinner and - fried over for supper. This was the invention of Jimsy, an old negro - brought over from the West Indies, whose real name was Zimzi, and who - always ran away when anybody scolded him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0144.jpg" alt="0144 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0144.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The old-fashioned loom and spinning-wheel were kept going, and the women - made their own dyes. The girls made their hats of rye and wheat straw, and - some very pretty bonnets were made of the fibrous substance that grows in - the vegetable known as the bonnet squash. - </p> - <p> - It was agreed on all sides that times were very hard, and yet they seemed - very pleasant and comfortable to Joe Maxwell. He had never seen money more - plentiful. Everybody seemed to have some, and yet nobody had enough. It - was all in Confederate bills, and they were all new and fresh and crisp. - Joe had some of it himself, and he thought he was growing rich. But the - more plentiful the money became, the higher went the price of everything. - </p> - <p> - After a while Joe noticed that the older men became more serious. There - were complaints in the newspapers of speculators and extortioners—of - men who imposed on and mistreated the widows and wives of the soldiers. - And then there was a law passed preventing the farmers from planting only - so many acres of land in cotton, in order that more food might be raised - for the army. After this came the impressment law, which gave the - Confederate officials the right to seize private property, horses, mules, - and provisions. And then came the conscription law. - </p> - <p> - There was discontent among the men who were at home, but they were not - left to make any serious complaints. One by one the conscript officers - seized all except those who were exempt and hurried them off to the front. - Those who thought it a disgrace to be conscripted either volunteered or - hired themselves as substitutes. - </p> - <p> - This is the summing up of the first three years of the war, so far as it - affected Joe Maxwell. The impression made upon him was of slow and gradual - growth. He only knew that trouble and confusion were abroad in the land. - He could see afterward what a lonely and desperate period it must have - been to those who had kinsmen in the war; but, at that time, all these - things were as remote from him as a dream that is half remembered. He set - up the editor’s articles, criticising Governor Joe Brown for some attacks - he had made on the Confederate Government, without understanding them - fully; and he left Mr. Wall, the hatter, who was a violent secessionist, - to discuss the situation with Mr. Bonner, the overseer, who was a Whig, - and something of a Union man. - </p> - <p> - Late one afternoon, after listening to a heated dispute between Mr. Wall - and Mr. Bonner, Joe concluded that he would take a run in the fields with - the harriers. So he called and whistled for them, but they failed to come. - Harbert thought they had followed some of the plantation hands, but, as - this rarely happened, Joe was of the opinion that they had gone hunting on - their own account. They were very busy and restless little dogs, and it - was not uncommon for them to go rabbit-hunting for themselves. Going - toward Mr. Snelson’s, Joe thought he could hear them running a rabbit on - the farther side of the plantation. He went in that direction, but found, - after a while, that they were running in the Jack Adams place, and as he - went nearer they seemed to get farther away. Finally, when he did come up - with the dogs, he found that they were not the harriers at all, but a lot - of curs and “fices.” And then—how it happened he was never able to - explain—Joe suddenly discovered that he was lost. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps if the idea had never occurred to him he would never have been - lost, but the thought flashed in his mind and stayed there. He stood still - in his tracks and looked all around, but the idea that he was really lost - confused him. He was not frightened—he was not even uneasy. But he - knew he was lost. Everything was strange and confusing. Even the sun, - which was preparing to go to bed, was in the wrong place. Joe laughed at - himself. Certainly he could return the way he came, so he faced about, as - he thought, and started home. - </p> - <p> - Walking and running he went forward rapidly, and he had need to, for the - sun had gone behind a cloud, and the cloud, black and threatening, was - rising and filling the sky. How long he had been going Joe did not know, - but suddenly he found himself near an old cabin. It was built of logs, and - the chimney, which had been made of sticks and red clay, had nearly fallen - down. The lad knew that this cabin was neither on the Turner plantation - nor on the Jack Adams place. He had never heard any of the negroes allude - to it, and he realized the fact that he had been running away from home. - </p> - <p> - Near the deserted house were the remnants of an orchard. A pear-tree, - jagged and unshapely, grew not far from the door, while an apple-tree, - with a part of its trunk rotted away, stood near a corner of the cabin. A - growth of pines and scrub-oak showed that the place had been deserted for - many a long year. A quarter of a mile away, through the gathering - darkness, Joe could see a white fringe gleaming against the horizon. He - knew that this was a fog, and that it rose from the river. Following the - line of the fog, he could see that the cabin was in a bend of the river—the - Horseshoe, as he had heard it called—and he knew that he was at - least four miles from home. By this time the cloud had covered all the - heavens. Away off in the woods he could hear the storm coming, sounding - like a long-drawn sigh at first, and then falling with a sweeping rush and - roar. Joe had no choice but to seek shelter in the old house. He was a - stout-hearted youngster, and yet he could not resist the feeling of - uneasiness and dread that came over him at the thought of spending the - night in that lonely place. But there was no help for it. He could never - find his way home in the darkness, and so he made the best of what seemed - to him a very bad matter. The cabin was almost a wreck, but it served to - keep off the rain. - </p> - <p> - Joe went in and explored the inside as carefully as he could in the - darkness. A wood-rat or flying-squirrel rattled along the rafters as he - entered, and the loose puncheons of which the floor was made bumped up and - down as he walked across them. In one corner, as he went groping about, he - found a pile of shucks—corn-husks—and straw, and he judged - that the old cabin had sometimes been used as a temporary barn. After - satisfying himself that no other person or creature had taken shelter - there, Joe tried to close the door. He found this to be a difficult - matter. The sill of the house had settled so that the door was on the - floor. He pushed it as far as it would go, and then groped his way back to - the shucks and quickly made a bed of them. He was fagged out, and the - shucks and straw made a comfortable pallet—so comfortable, indeed, - that by the time he had made up his mind that it was a pleasant thing to - lie there and listen to the rain rushing down on the weather-beaten roof, - he was fast asleep. - </p> - <p> - How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly he awoke to discover that - he was not the only person who had sought shelter in the cabin. The rain - was still falling on the roof, but he could hear some one talking in a low - tone. He lay quite still and listened with all his ears. He soon - discovered that the new-comers were negroes, whether two or three he could - not tell. Presently he could distinguish what they said. The storm had - ceased so that it no longer drowned their voices. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you what, mon,” said one, “ole Injun Bill kin run ef he is - chunky.” - </p> - <p> - “Lor’! I had ter run ef I gwine fer keep up wid old Mink.” said the other. - </p> - <p> - “Bless you!” responded the first voice, “I kin run when I git de - invertation, else ole Bill Locke an’ his nigger dogs would a done cotch me - long ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Dey ain’t been atter me,” said the second voice, “but I’m a spectin’ un - um eve’y day, an’ when dey does—gentermen! I’m a-gwine ter scratch - gravel! You hear what I tell you!” - </p> - <p> - “I come so fas’,” remarked the first voice, “dat all dem ar buckeyes what - I had done bounce outer my pocket.” - </p> - <p> - “What you gwine fer do wid so many buckeyes?” asked the second voice. - </p> - <p> - “Who? Me! Oh, I wuz des savin’ um up fer dat ar white boy what stay ’long - wid de printin’ machine,” said the first voice. “He holp me ’long one - time. Harbert, he say dat white boy is des ez good ter niggers ez ef dey - all b’long ter im, an’ he say he got a head on ’im. Dat what Harbert say.” - </p> - <p> - “I bin see ’im,” said the second voice. “I don’t like white folks myse’f, - but I speck dat boy got good in ’im. He come fum town.” - </p> - <p> - Joe Maxwell knew at once that one of the voices belonged to Mink, the - runaway, and he judged that the other belonged to Injun Bill, whose - reputation was very bad. He knew also that the two negroes were talking - about him, and he was not only gratified at the compliments paid him, but - felt safer than if he had been alone in the cabin. In a spirit of mischief - he called out in a sepulchral tone of voice: - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Mink? I want Mink!” - </p> - <p> - He tried to imitate the tone that he had heard mothers sometimes employ - when they are trying to frighten crying children into silence with the - bogie man. There was no reply from Mink, but Joe could hear the two - negroes breathing hard. Then, imitating the voice of a woman, he cried - out: - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Injun Bill? I want Injun Bill!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0153.jpg" alt="0153 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0153.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Imagining how horrified the negroes were, and how they looked as they sat - on the floor quaking with terror, Joe could not restrain himself. He fell - into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that caused him to scatter the - shucks all over the floor. This proceeding, wholly unaccountable, added to - the terror of the negroes. Injun Bill, as it afterward appeared, made a - wild leap for the door, but his foot caught in a crack in the floor and he - fell headlong. On top of him fell Mink, and each thought he had been - caught by the thing that had frightened him. They had a terrific scuffle - on the floor, writhing over and under each other in their efforts to - escape. Finally, Mink, who was the more powerful of the two, pinned Injun - Bill to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Who dis?” he cried, breathing hard with fear and excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Me! Dat who ’tis!” said Injun Bill, angrily. “What you doin’ ’pon top er - me?” - </p> - <p> - This complication caused Joe Maxwell to laugh until he could scarcely - catch his breath. But at last he managed to control his voice. - </p> - <p> - “What in the name of goodness are you two trying to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Name er de Lord!” exclaimed Mink, “who is you, anyhow?” - </p> - <p> - “Dat what I like ter know,” said Injun Bill, in a surly tone. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you’ve just been talking about me,” replied Joe. “I lay there on the - shucks and heard you give me a great name.” - </p> - <p> - “Is dat you, little marster?” cried Mink. “Well, suh! Ef dat don’t beat my - time! How come you sech a fur ways fum yo’ surroundin’s?” - </p> - <p> - Joe explained as briefly as possible that he was lost. - </p> - <p> - “Well, well, well!” said Mink, by way of comment. “You sholy gimme a turn - dat time. Little mo’ an’ I’d a thought de ole boy had me. Ef I’d a bin by - myse’f when I hear dat callin’ I lay I’d’a to’ down de whole side er de - house. Dish yer nigger ’long wid me, little marster, he name Injun Bill. - He say—” - </p> - <p> - “’Sh—sh!” said Injun Bill, softly. Then in a whisper—“watch - out!” - </p> - <p> - Joe was about to say something, but suddenly he heard the sound of - approaching footsteps. The negroes by a noiseless movement stepped close - against the wall. Joe lay still. The new-comers entered the door without - hesitation. They had evidently been there before. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll take an’ put my gun in the corner here,” said one. “Now, don’t go - blunderin’ aroun’ an’ knock it over; it might go off.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said the other. “Where is it? I’ll put mine by it.” - </p> - <p> - Then they seemed to be unfastening their belts. - </p> - <p> - “Hain’t you got a match?” said one. “I’m as wet as a drownded rat. I’ve - got some kindlin’ somewheres about my cloze. My will, ef I had it fried,” - he went on, “would be to be set down in front of a great big fireplace - adryin’ myse’f, an’ a knowin’ all the time that a great big tray of hot - biscuit an’ ’leven pounds of butter was a waitin’ for me in the kitchen.” - </p> - <p> - “Thunderation!” exclaimed the other, “don’t talk that way. You make me so - nervous I can’t find the matches.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well,” said the first, “I was jist a think-in’ about eatin’. I wish - Mink’ud come on ef he’s a-comin’.” - </p> - <p> - “I done come, Mars John,” said Mink. - </p> - <p> - “Confound your black hide!” exclaimed the man; “if I had my gun I’d shoot - a hole spang throo you! Whadder you want to skeer me outn a year’s growth - for? If you’re here, whyn’t you sesso befo’ you spoke?” - </p> - <p> - “Kaze I got comp’ny,” said Mink. - </p> - <p> - The man gave a long whistle, denoting surprise. “Who’ve you got?” he - asked, almost savagely. - </p> - <p> - “Injun Bill.” - </p> - <p> - “Who else?” - </p> - <p> - “A white boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, the great snakes! What sort of game is you up to? Who is the white - boy?” - </p> - <p> - “He stay on the Turner plantation at de printin’-office,” explained Mink. - </p> - <p> - “You hear that, don’t you?” said the man to his companion. “And now it’ll - all be in the paper.” - </p> - <p> - “Bosh!” exclaimed Joe. “I don’t know you from a side of sole-leather. I - got lost while rabbit-hunting, and came in here out of the rain.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s a peart-talkin’ chap,” said the man who wanted to eat a trayful of - hot biscuits and eleven pounds of butter. - </p> - <p> - “He came fum town,” said Mink, by way of explaining Joe’s “peartness.” - </p> - <p> - “How long since?” asked one of the men. - </p> - <p> - “Two years ago,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - After a little, one of the men succeeded in finding a match, and making a - light with the pine kindlings that one of the two had brought. In a corner - Mink found some pieces of dry wood and the small company soon had a fire - burning. The weather was not cold, but the fire must have been very - agreeable to the white men, who, as one of them expressed it, was - “wringin, wet.” These men took advantage of the first opportunity to - examine Joe Maxwell very closely. They had evidently expected to find a - much more formidable-looking person than he appeared to be, for one of - them remarked to the other: - </p> - <p> - “Why, he hain’t bigger’n a pound er soap arter a hard day’s washin’.” - </p> - <p> - “Naw!” said the other. “I’ve saw ’im be-fo’. He’s that little rooster that - useter be runnin’ roun’ town gittin’ in all sorts er devilment. I reckon - he’s sorter out er his element here in the country.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve seen you, too,” said Joe. “I’ve seen both of you. I used to see you - drilling in the Hillsborough Rifles. I was at the depot when the company - went off to the war.” - </p> - <p> - The two men looked at each other in a peculiar way, and busied themselves - trying to dry their clothes by the fire, standing close to the flickering - flames. They were not handsome men, and yet they were not ill looking. One - was short and stout, with black hair. He had a scar under one of his eyes - that did not improve his appearance. But the expression of his face was - pleasant in spite of this defect. The other was thin, tall, and - stoop-shouldered. His beard was scanty and red, and his upper teeth - protruded to such an extent that when his face was in repose they were - exposed to view. But there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes that found - an echo in his talk. Both men were growing gray. The dark man was Jim - Wimberly, the other John Pruitt, and both had evidently seen hard times. - Soldier-fashion, they made seats for themselves by sticking the ends of - loose boards through the cracks, and allowing the other ends to rest on - the floor. Thus they could sit or lie at full length as they chose. Joe - fixed a seat for himself in the same way, while Mink and Injun Bill sat on - the floor on each side of the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - “What do you call those here fellers,” asked Mr. Pruitt, lighting his pipe - with a splinter, and turning to Joe—“these here fellers what jines - inter the army an’ then comes home arter awhile without lief or license?” - </p> - <p> - “Deserters,” replied Joe, simply. - </p> - <p> - “So fur, so good.” said Mr. Pruitt. “Now, then, what do you call the - fellers what jines inter the army arter they’er been told that their - families’ll be took keer of an’ provided fer by the rich folks at home; - an’ then, arter they’er been in a right smart whet, they gits word that - their wives an’ children is a lookin’ starvation in the face, an’ stedder - gittin’ better it gets wuss, an’ bimeby they breaks loose an’ comes home? - Now what sort er fellers do you call them? Hold on!” exclaimed Mr. Pruitt, - as Joe was about to reply. “Wait! They hain’t got no money an’ no niggers; - they hain’t got nothin’ but a little piece er lan’. They goes off - expectin’ their wives’ll be took keer of, an’ they comes home an’ fines - ’em in the last stages. What sorter fellers do you call them?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” Joe replied, “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Mr. Pruitt, “an’ I’m mighty sorry you’ve heard about it now. It - ain’t a purty tale.” - </p> - <p> - “Who are the men?” Joe asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yours, respectfully, John Pruitt an’ Jeems Wimberly, Ashbank deestrict, - Hillsborough Post-Office, State of Georgia,” said Mr. Pruitt, solemnly. - </p> - <p> - Joe had heard it hinted and rumored that in some cases, especially where - they lived remote from the relief committees, the families of the soldiers - were not so well provided for as they had a right to expect. He had even - set up some editorials in <i>The Countryman</i> which hinted that there - was suffering among the soldiers’ wives and children; but he never dreamed - that it was serious enough to create discontent among the soldiers. The - story that Mr. Pruitt and his companion told amazed Joe Maxwell, but it - need not be repeated here in detail. It amounted to this, that the two - soldiers had deserted because their wives and children were suffering for - food and clothing, and now they were fugitives. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—THE STORY-TELLERS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he strange company - was silent for a long time. Mr. Pruitt and Mr. Wimberly sat with their - elbows on their knees and their faces in their hands, and gazed into the - fireplace, while the two negroes, true to their nature, began to nod as - the talking ceased. The silence at last became painful to Joe Maxwell. - </p> - <p> - “Mink,” he said, “suppose you should hear somebody coming, what would you - do?” - </p> - <p> - “I wuz des worryin’ ’bout dat ’while ago,” replied the stalwart negro, - passing his hand swiftly across his face. “I ’speck I’d be like de ole - sheep you hear talk about in de tale.” - </p> - <p> - “What was the tale?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ’tain’t no long tale,” said Mink. “One time dey wuz er ole sheep what - had two chilluns. She call um up one day an’ tell um dat dey better keep a - sharp lookout whiles dey er eating kaze ef dey don’t sumpin’ n’er sholy - gwine git um. Dey say ’Yessum,’ an’ dey went ter frolickin’ up an’ down de - fiel’. Bimeby dey come runnin’ back, an’ ’low: “‘Oh, mammy, yon’s, a man! - Mus’ we-all run?’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0163.jpg" alt="0163 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0163.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Ole mammy sheep, she ’low: ‘No! Go ’long and play.’ - </p> - <p> - “Atter while, dey come runnin’ back an’ low: ‘Mammy, mammy! yon’s a hoss! - Mus’ we all run?’ - </p> - <p> - “Ole mammy sheep ’low: ‘’G’way frum here! Go on an’ play.’ - </p> - <p> - “Bimeby dey come runnin’ back. ‘Mammy, mammy! yon’s a cow! Mus’ we all - run?’ - </p> - <p> - “Ole mammy sheep say: ‘Go on an’ play, an’ quit yo’ behavishness!’ - </p> - <p> - “Atter while dey come runnin’ back. ‘Mammy! oh, mammy! yon’s a dog! Mus’ - we-all run?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Yes, yes! Run, chillun, run!’ - </p> - <p> - “Dat de way wid me,” said Mink. “Ef I wuz ter hear some un cornin’ I - wouldn’t know whedder ter set still an’ nod, or whedder ter break an’ - run.” - </p> - <p> - “That hain’t much of a tale,” remarked Mr. Pruitt, “but ther’s a mighty - heap er sense in it, shore.” - </p> - <p> - “Shoo!” exclaimed Mink, “dat ain’t no tale. You oughter hear dish yer - Injun Bill tell um. He kin set up an’ spit um out all night long.—Bill,” - said he, turning to his companion, “tell um dat un ’bout how de mountains - come ’bout.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I can’t tell de tale,” said Injun Bill, marking nervously in the - floor with a splinter. “Ef I could tell dem like my daddy, den dat ’ud - sorter be like sumpin’. Me an’ my mammy come from Norf Ca’liny. My daddy - wuz Injun, Ef you could hear him tell dem tales, he’d make you open yo’ - eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “How wuz de mountains made, Bill?” asked Mink, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “I wish I could tell it like my daddy,” said Bill. “He wuz Cher’kee Injun, - an’ he know all ’bout it, kaze he say de Injuns wuz here long time fo’ de - white folks wuz, let ’lone de niggers. - </p> - <p> - “Well, one time dey wuz a great big flood. Hit rain so hard an’ it rain so - long dat it fair kivver de face er de yeth. Dey wuz lots mo’ water dan - what dey is in our kind er freshets, an’ it got so atter while dat de - folks had ter find some place whar dey kin stay, kaze ef dey don’t dey all - be drownded, dem an’ de cree-turs, too. - </p> - <p> - “Well, one day de big Injun man call dem all up, an’ say dey got ter move. - So dey tuck der cloze an’ der pots an’ der pans an’ foller ’long atter de - big Injun, an’ de creeters dey come ’long, too. Dey march an’ dey march, - an’ bimeby dey come whar dey wuz a big hole in de groun’. Dey march in an’ - de big Injun he stay behine fer stop up de hole so de water can’t leak in. - ’Twant long ’fo’ dey know dey wuz in de middle er de worl’, deep down - under de groun’, an’ dey had plenty room. Dey built der fires an’ cook der - vittles des same ez ef dey’d a been on top er de groun’. - </p> - <p> - “Dey stayed in dar I dunner how long, an’ bimeby dey got tired er stayin’ - in dar, an’ dey want ter come out. Some un um went off fer hunt fer de - hole whar dey come in at, but dey can’t fine it, an’ den dey say dey - skeered dey ain’t never gwine ter git out. But de big Injun say dey plenty - time, kaze fo’ dey go out dey got ter know whedder de rain done stop. He - say ef de smoke kin git out dey kin git out. Den dey ax ’im how he gwine - fine out ’bout de rain, an’ he say he gwine sen’ some er de creeturs fer - fine de hole whar de smoke go out, an’ see ’bout de rain. - </p> - <p> - “Den de big Injun he went off by hisse’f an’ study an’ study how he gwine - fine de hole whar de smoke go out. He sent de dog—de dog can’t fine - it. He sent de coon—de coon can’t fine it. He sent de rabbit—de - rabbit can’t fine it. Den he went off by hisse’f an’ study some mo’, an’ - ’bout dat time de buzzud come ’long an’ he ax de big Injun what make him - look so lonesome. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0167.jpg" alt="0167 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0167.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Den de big Injun tell de buzzud ’bout ’im tryin’ fer fine de hole whar de - smoke went fru. De buzzud he ’low dat him an’ his ole ’oman kin fine it, - an’ den de big Injun tuck an’ sent um off. - </p> - <p> - “Dey riz up, de buzzuds did, an’ flewd de way de smoke went. Dey flewd up - an’ dey flewd down, an’ dey flewd all ’roun’ an’ ’roun,’ but dey ain’t - seed no hole whar de smoke go out at. Den dey come back, an’ dis make de - big Injun feel mo’ lonesomer dan befo’. He study an’ he study, un’ bimeby - he sent um out agin, an’ tole um ter go high ez dey kin an’ spy out de - hole. - </p> - <p> - “So dey riz an’ flewd up agin, an’ dis time dey flewd right agin de top er - de yeth, up an’ down an’ ’roun’ an’ ’roun’. It bin rainin’ so long dat de - crust er de yeth wuz done wet plum fru, an’ it wuz saft, an’ when dey - struck agin it dey made de print whar dey bin fly in’. Bimeby, de old man - buzzud, he got mad, an’ he sail ’roun’ twel he git a good start, an’ den - he plow right ’long agin de roof. De ol’ ’oman buzzud, she done de same, - an’ bimeby dey fine de hole whar de smoke went out. Dey peeped out, dey - did, an’ dey seed dat de rain done stop, but it monstus damp outside. - </p> - <p> - “Den dey went back an’ de big Injun feel mighty good kaze dey done fine de - hole. After so long a time he giv de word, an’ dey all marched out fum de - inside er de yeth an’ went back ter whar dey useter live. It tuck um a - mighty long time ter fine de place, kaze when dey went away de lan’ wuz - level, but when dey come back hit wuz full er hills an’ mountains dat look - like great big bumps an’ long ridges. Dey ax dey se’f how come dis, an’ - dey study an’ study. Bimeby de buzzud, he up’n say dat dem wuz de print he - lef’ when him an’ his ole ’oman wuz a-flyin’ roun’ tryin’ fer fine de hole - whar de smoke went out. De groun’ wuz saft, an’ eve’y time de buzzuds ’ud - fly agin it dey’d make hills an’ mountains. Dat what my daddy say,” said - Injun Bill, decisively. “He wuz Injun man, an’ he oughter know ef anybody - do.” - </p> - <p> - “What did I tell you?” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, who, up to this time, had - said nothing. “Mix Injun wi’ nigger an’ they hain’t no kind er rigamarole - they won’t git up.” - </p> - <p> - They all agreed, however, that Injun Bill’s story was amusing, and after a - while Mink said: - </p> - <p> - “I speck Marse John dar mought match dat tale ef he wuz ter try right - hard.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pruitt turned his pocket inside out to get some tobacco-crumbs for his - pipe. - </p> - <p> - “Buddy,” he remarked, turning to Joe Maxwell, “did you ever hear tell how - the fox gits rid er fleas?” - </p> - <p> - Joe had never heard. - </p> - <p> - “Weil,” said Mr. Pruitt, “it’s this away. When the fox, speshually ef it’s - one er these here big reds, gits full er fleas, which they er bleedze ter - do in hot weather, he puts out an’ goes tell he finds a flock er sheep. - Then he runs in amongst ’em, an’ runs along by the side er one tell he - gits a chance ter pull a mouffle er wool out. Then he makes a break fer - the creek an’ finds him a wash-hole an’ wades in. - </p> - <p> - “He don’t, ez you may say, splunge in. He jest wades in, a little bit at a - time. Fust he gits in up ter his knees, an’ then he goes in deeper an’ - deeper. But he hain’t in no hurry. When the water strikes the fleas, - nachally they start fer high-water mark. The fox feels ’em crawl up, an’ - then he goes in a little deeper. When they crawl up ez high ez his back he - goes in furder, an’ then they-crawl to’rds his head. He gits a little - deeper, an’ they crawl out on his nose. Then he gits deeper, tell they - hain’t nothin’ out er the water but the pint er his nose. - </p> - <p> - “Now all this time he’s got that chunk er wool in his mouf, an’ when the - fleas hain’t got nowheres else ter go they make fer that. Then when the - fleas is all in the wool, the fox drops it in the water, comes out, shakes - hisse’f, an’ trots off ter do some other devilment.” - </p> - <p> - “Dat cert’ny is one way fer ter git red er fleas,” exclaimed Mink, - laughing heartily. Then he turned to Injun Bill. - </p> - <p> - “Bill, what tale is dat I been hear you tell ’bout ole Brer Rabbit an’ de - overcoat? Dat ain’t no nigger tale.” - </p> - <p> - “Naw!” said Injun Bill, contemptuously. “Dat ain’t no nigger tale. My - daddy tell dat tale, an’ he wa’nt no nigger. I wish I could tell it like I - near him tell it.” - </p> - <p> - “How did it go?” asked Mr. Wimberly. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Injun Bill, rolling his eyes to-ward the rafters, “it sorter - run dis way, nigh ez I kin reckermember: De time wuz when Mr. Beaver wuz - de boss er all de creeturs. He wa’nt de biggest ner de strongest, but he - wuz mighty smart. Fine cloze make fine folks in dem days, an’ dat what Mr. - Beaver had. Eve’ybody know him by his fine overcoat. He look slick all de - week, an’ he mighty perlite—he ain’t never fergit his manners. Mr. - Rabbit see all dis an’ it make ’im feel jealous. He dunner how come Mr. - Beaver kin be sech a big man, an’ he study how he gwine make hisse’f - populous wid de yuther creeturs. - </p> - <p> - “One time dey all make it up dat dey wuz gwine ter have a big meetin’, an’ - so dey ’gun ter fix up. De word went ’roun’ an’ all de creeturs make ready - ter come. Mr. Beaver he live up in de mountains, an’ it wuz lots mo’ dan a - day’s journey fum his house ter de place whar de creeturs gwine ter hoi’ - der big meetin’. But he waz bleedze ter be dar, kaze he de head man. Ole - Mr. Rabbit ’low ter hisse’f dat sumpin’ got ter be done, an’ dat mighty - quick, an’ so he put out fer Mr. Beaver house. Mr. Rabbit sho is a soon - mover, mon, an’ he git dar in little er no time. He say dey all so ’fraid - Mr. Beaver ain’t comin’ ter de meetin’ dat dey sont ’im atter ’im, an’ he - help Mr. Beaver pack his kyarpet-bag, an’ went on back wid ’im fer - comp’ny. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Beaver can’t git ’long ez peart ez Mr. Rabbit, kaze he so fat an’ - chunky, yit he don’t lose no time; he des keep gwine fum sunup ter - sundown. Des ’fo’ dark dey come ter whar dey wuz a river, an’ Mr. Rabbit, - he ’low dey better camp out on de bank, an’ git soon start in de mornin’. - So dey built up a fier, an’ cook der supper, an’ ’bout de time dey wuz - gittin’ ready ter go ter bed Mr. Rabbit ’low: - </p> - <p> - “‘Brer Beaver, I mighty feared we gwine ter have trouble dis night!’ Mr. - Beaver say, ‘How comes so, Brer Rabbit?’ - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Rabbit ’low: ‘Dis country what we er in is called Rainin’ Hot Embers, - an’ I don’t like no sech name. Dat de reason I wanter stop close ter - water.’ - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Beaver ax, ‘What de name er goodness we gwine do, Brer Rabbit?’ - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Rabbit sorter scratch his head an’ say, ‘Oh, we des got ter put up - wid it, an’ do de bes’ we kin.’ Den he sorter study, an’ ’low: ’I speck - you better pull off dat fine overcoat er yourn, Brer Beaver, an’ hang it - up in de tree dar, kaze ef de wuss come ter de wuss, you sholy want ter - save dat.’ - </p> - <p> - “Den Mr. Beaver tuck off his overcoat an’ hang it up in de tree, an’ atter - while dey lay down fer ter take a nap. Mr. Rabbit he stay wake, but twa’nt - long ’fo’ Mr. Beaver wuz done gone ter sleep an’ snorin’ right along. He - sno’ so loud dat Mr. Rabbit laugh ter hisse’f, an’ ’low: ‘Hey! Ole Brer - Beaver pumpin’ thunder fer dry wedder, but we gwine ter have some rain, - an’ it’ll be a mighty hot rain, mon.’ - </p> - <p> - “Den Mr. Rabbit raise hisse’f on his elbow an’ look at Mr. Beaver. He - soun’ asleep, an’ he keep on a snorin’. Mr. Rabbit got up easy, an’ - slipped roun’ an’ got ’im a great big piece er bark, an’ den he slip back - ter de fier an’ run de piece er bark un’ de hot embers des like it wuz a - shovel. He flung um up in de air, he did, an’ holler out: - </p> - <p> - “‘Run fer de water, Brer Beaver! run fer de water! It’s a rainin’ hot - embers! Run, Brer Beaver! run!’ - </p> - <p> - “De hot embers drapped on Mr. Beaver, an’ he scuffled ’bout mightily. Time - Mr. Rabbit hollered, he flung an’er shower er embers on ’im, an’ Mr. - Beaver gun one loud squall an’ splunged inter de water head over heels. - Mr. Rabbit grab de fine overcoat an’ run down de bank twel he come ter - whar dey wuz a canoe, an’ he got in dat an’ went cross, an’ den he put out - ter whar de creeturs gwine ter hol’ der big meetin’. Des ’fo’ he got dar, - he put on de overcoat, an’ he ain’t do it none too soon, nudder, kaze some - un um had done got so unpatient ’long er waitin’ fer Mr. Beaver dat dey - went out on de road a little fer ter meet ’im. - </p> - <p> - “De overcoat wuz lots too big fer Mr. Rabbit, but it bin sech a long time - sence de creeturs had seed Mr. Beaver dat it look all right ter dem, an’ - so dey gallanted Mr. Rabbit ter de meetin’-place same like he wuz big man - ez Mr. Beaver. Dey tuck ’im dar an’ gallanted ’im up on de flatform, an’ - sot ’im down in de big cheer, an’ made ’im de boss er de meetin’. Mr. - Rabbit ’gun ter speak an’ tell um he mighty much ’blige fer all deze - favers, an’ ’bout dat time Mr. Fox ’low: - </p> - <p> - “‘Hey! Mr. Beaver done los’ his voice!’” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0175.jpg" alt="0175 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0175.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Mr. Rabbit say he can’t have no talkin’, an’ he kep on wid his speech. - Bimeby Mr. Wolf say: ‘Hey! Mr. Beaver bin sick, kaze his cloze ain’t fit - ’im.’ Mr. Rabbit say he bleeze ter have order in de ’sembly, an’ he go on - wid his speech. ’Twan’t long ’fo’ Mr. Fox jump an’ holler out: - </p> - <p> - “‘Hey! Mr. Beaver done bought ‘im some new years!’ - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Rabbit cock up one eye, an’ see dat bofe er his long years done come - out fum un’ de overcoat, an’ den he know dat he better be gwine. He make - er break, he did, an’ bounced off’n de flatform, an’ start fer de bushes, - but some er de yuther creeturs head ‘im off an’ kotched ‘im, an’ den dey - tuck ‘im an’ tried ‘im, an’ de jedge what sot on ‘im say he mus’ have mark - on ‘im so he can’t fool um no mo’. Den dey tuck er sharp flint rock an’ - split his upper lip, an’ dat how de rabbits is got der lip split.” - </p> - <p> - “Shoo!” said Mink. “Dat Injun rabbit. Nigger rabbit would ‘a’ fooled dem - creeturs right straight along, an’ he wouldn’t ’a’ bin cotch, nudder.” - </p> - <p> - “Jim,” said Mr. Pruitt to Mr. Wimberly, “would it strain you too much ter - whirl in an’ tell us a tale? We wanter show this young un here that - country folks hain’t ez no ’count ez they look ter be.” - </p> - <p> - “Jesso!” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, with much animation. “I wuz jest - a-thinkin’ about one that popped in my min’. It ain’t much of a tale, but - it tickled me might’ly when I fust heard it, an’ I hain’t never fergot - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Mr. Pruitt, “out wi’ it. It ain’t nigh bedtime, an’ ef it wuz - we hain’t got no beds ter go ter—that is, we hain’t got none ter - speak of.” - </p> - <p> - “One time,” Mr. Wimberly began, smacking his lips, “there wuz a man what - took the idee that he had done gone an’ larnt ever’ blessid thing under - the sun that thar’ wuz ter larn, and it worried him might’ly. He took the - idee wi’ ’im ever ’whar he went. Folks called ’im Ole Man Know-all. He - sarched in ever’ hole an’ cornder arter sump’n that he didn’t know, but, - hunt whar he would an’ when he might, he couldn’t fin’ it. It looked like - he know’d ever’-thing ther’ wuz an’ had been. Nobody couldn’t tell ’im - nothin’ that he didn’t know, an’ it made ’im feel mighty lonesome. He - studied an’ studied, an’ at last he said ter hisse’f, sezee, that ef thar’ - wan’t nothin’ more fer ’im ter larn, he jest might ez well lay down an’ - die. He said ter hisse’f, sezee, that may be Grandsir Death could larn ’im - sumpin. Jesso! - </p> - <p> - “Well, he went home one night an’ built ’im up a big fire an’ fixed his - pallet an’ lay down. ‘I won’t lock the door,’ sezee; ‘I’ll jist leave it - onlatched so Grandsir Death can come in, an’ maybe he can larn me sump’n.’ - Jesso! - </p> - <p> - “Ole Man Know-all lay thar on the pallet an’ waited. He’d doze a little - an’ then he’d wake up, an’ he rolled an’ tossed about tell purty nigh day. - He wan’t oneasy, so to speak, but he wuz mighty restless. To’rds mornin’ - he heard some un knock on his door—bam-bam! bam-bam! He wan’t - skeered, but he got right weak. His mouth got dry, an’ a big holler place - come in his stomach. He sez ter hisse’f, sezee, ‘Shorely that’s Grandsir - Death at the door.’ Then he kivvered up his head an’ shuck all over. - ’Twan’t long ’fo’ the knock come agin: - </p> - <p> - “Bim-bim! bim-bim! bim! - </p> - <p> - “Ole Man Know-all thought his time wuz done come, certain an’ shore, an’ - so he hollered: - </p> - <p> - “‘Come in!’ - </p> - <p> - “The door opened, but stedder it’s bein’ Grandsir Death it wuz a little - nigger boy. Ole Man Know-all sez, sezee: - </p> - <p> - “‘What you want this time er night?’ - </p> - <p> - “The little nigger boy sez, sezee, ‘Mammy sent me arter some fier.’ - </p> - <p> - “Old Man Know-all told ’im ter come in an’ git it. The little nigger boy - went in an’ started ter the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - “‘They ain’t no chunks thar,’ sez Ole Man Know-all. ‘Go git a shovel.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Don’t want no shovel,’ sez the little nigger. - </p> - <p> - “’ How you gwine ter take it?’ sez Old Man Know-all. - </p> - <p> - “‘Easy enough,’ sez the little nigger. - </p> - <p> - “Ole Man Know-all turned over an’ watched ’im. He went ter the h’ath, - filled the palm er one hand full er dead ashes, made a little nest in the - middle, an’ then picked up a fire-coal this way.” - </p> - <p> - Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Wimberly picked up a glowing coal of - fire, dropped it in the palm of his hand, whirled it around rapidly, and - then neatly transferred it to the bowl of his pipe, where it lay glowing. - </p> - <p> - “The little nigger picked up the coal that way,” Mr. Wimberly continued, - “an’ then he started out. Ole Man Know-all hollered at ’im. - </p> - <p> - “‘Hol’ on!’ sezee; ’how you gwine ter kindle a fire from jest one coal?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Easy enough,’ sez the little nigger. - </p> - <p> - “Ole Man Know-all jumped up an’ follered ’im, an’ when the little nigger - come ter his mammy’s house he got two fat pine splinters, picked up the - coal er fire wi’ ’em jest ez ef they’d ’a’ been tongs, whirled it once-t - er twice-t aroun’ his head, an’ thar wuz the blaze. - </p> - <p> - “‘Well,’ sez Ole Man Know-all, ‘I’m mighty glad Grandsir Death gimme the - go-by last night, ’cause I’ve larnt sump’n new. An’ I reckon, ef I keep my - eyes open, I can larn lots more.’ Jesso!” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve saw folks that thought they know’d it all,” said Mr. Pruitt, “an’ it - most inginer’lly happens that all what they know wouldn’t make the linin’ - fer a bug’s nest.” - </p> - <p> - There was some further talk, in which Joe Maxwell joined, or thought he - did, and then the cabin and all its occupants seemed to fade before his - eyes. He seemed, as in a dream, to hear Mr. Pruitt say that he wished to - the Lord that his little boy was as healthy and as well fed as the boy - from town, and Joe thought he heard the deserter telling his companions of - the desperate condition in which he found his wife and two little - children, who were living in a house remote from any settlement. The lad, - much interested in this recital, opened his eyes to ask Mr. Pruitt some of - the particulars, and, lo! it was morning. The fire was out, and the - deserters and negroes had disappeared. In the east the sky glowed with the - promise of the sun, the birds were singing in the old apple-trees, and the - cows were lowing. In the distance Joe could hear the plow-hands singing as - they rode to their tasks, and, when the sound of their song had died away, - he thought he could hear, ever so faintly, the voice of Harbert calling - his hogs. - </p> - <p> - Mink had told Joe where he was, and how to get home, and he had no - difficulty in finding his way. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—THE RELIEF COMMITTEE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>oe Maxwell was - very tired the day after his experience in the cabin with the deserters - and the runaways, but he was not too tired to joyfully accept an - invitation to visit Hillsborough with the editor of <i>The Countryman</i>. - For months the town had been practically in a state of siege. As the war - progressed, it had been made a hospital station. The old temperance hall - and many of the other buildings in the town had been fitted up for the - accommodation of the sick and wounded. There were also many refugees in - Hillsborough from Tennessee and north Georgia. While the town was crowded, - the small-pox broke out, and for a month or more the country people were - prevented from going there. Guards were placed on all the roads leading - into the town; but this was not necessary, for the country people were not - anxious to visit the place when they learned of the small-pox. - Hillsborough was placed under martial law, and a provost-marshal given - charge of affairs. This was necessary, not only to control the small-pox, - but to control the convalescing soldiers, among whom were some very rough - characters. - </p> - <p> - Joe had stayed away so long that the town seemed to be new to him. The - playground in front of the old school-house was full of dingy hospital - huts; the stores with which he had been familiar had been put to new and - strange uses; and there were strange faces everywhere. Squads of soldiers - were marching briskly here and there; men with crutches at their sides, or - bandages on their heads, or with their arms in slings, were sunning - themselves on every corner. Everything was strange. Even the old - china-trees under which Joe had played hundreds of times had an unfamiliar - look. Dazed and confused, the lad sat down on one of the long benches that - were placed along the wall in front of some of the stores. The bench was - tilted back against the wall, and one end of it was occupied by two men - who were engaged in earnest conversation. Joe paid little attention to - them at first, but a word or two that he heard caused him to observe them - more closely. One of them was Mr. Deometari, the Greek exile and lawyer; - the other was a man whom Joe did not know. He noticed that, although Mr. - Deometari wore a faded and shabby uniform, his linen was spotless. His - cuffs and shirt-bosom shone in the sun, and the setting of a heavy ring on - his chubby finger sparkled like a star. “He has forgotten me,” Joe - thought, and he sat there determined not to make himself known, although - he and Mr. Deometari had been great friends before the lad left - Hillsborough. - </p> - <p> - “There’s another thing I’m troubled about,” Joe heard Mr. Deometari say to - his companion. “Pruitt has come home.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter with him?” asked the other. - </p> - <p> - “Deserted!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the other, “it’s a big risk for a grown man to take. If he’s - caught, he’ll have to pay the penalty.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, bringing his fist down on his broad knee. - “He’ll be caught, but he won’t pay the penalty.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, what do you mean, Deo?” asked his companion. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you know him?” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “He belongs to the Relief - Committee!” - </p> - <p> - “Phew!” whistled the other, raising both his hands in the air, and letting - them fall again. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you know him?” Deometari went on, with increasing earnestness. - “He’s the man that shot the otter.” - </p> - <p> - Again Mr. Deometari’s companion gave a long whistle of astonishment. “Jack - Pruitt?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “The identical man,” said Deometari. “And do you know who this - provost-marshal here is—this Captain Johnson?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0187.jpg" alt="0187 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0187.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” said the other; “he’s the chap that stole the last dust of meal - we had been saving to make soup for poor Tom Henderson.” - </p> - <p> - “And what happened then?” inquired Mr. Deometari, as if trying to refresh - his own memory instead of that of his companion. “Didn’t Jack Pruitt give - him a whipping?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, bless my life!” exclaimed the other. “What am I thinking about? Why, - of course he did!” Saying this, Mr. Deometari’s companion rose to his - feet, and caught sight of Joe Maxwell as he did so. Instantly he laid his - hand on Mr. Deometari’s shoulder and remarked: - </p> - <p> - “It is fine weather for birds and boys.” - </p> - <p> - Joe was not at all disconcerted. He was not eavesdropping, though he was - very much interested in what he had heard. The way to interest a boy - thoroughly is to puzzle him, and Joe was puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “I saw Mr. Pruitt last night,” he remarked, and then, as his old friend - turned, he said: - </p> - <p> - “How do you do, Mr. Deo? You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” - </p> - <p> - Joe advanced and offered his hand. As Mr. Deometari took it, the frown - cleared away from his face. - </p> - <p> - “Why, my dear boy!” he exclaimed, pulling the lad toward him and giving - him a tremendous hugging, “I am delighted to see you! I could count on my - ten fingers the people who are left to call me Deo. And if I counted, my - boy, you may be sure I’d call your name long before I got to my little - finger. Why, I’m proud of you, my boy! They tell me you write the little - paragraphs in the paper credited to ‘The Countryman’s Devil’? Not all of - them! Ah, well! it is honor enough if you only write some of them. Forget - you, indeed!” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Deometari’s greeting was not only cordial but affectionate, and the - sincerity that shone in his face and echoed in his words brought tears to - Joe Maxwell’s eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Blandford,” said Mr. Deometari, “you ought to know this boy. Don’t you - remember Joe Maxwell?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes!” said Mr. Blandford, showing his white teeth and fixing his big - black eyes on Joe. “He used to fight shy of me, but I remember him very - well. He used to stand at the back of my chair and give me luck when I - played draughts.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Blandford had changed greatly since Joe had seen him last. His black - hair, which once fell over his shoulders in glossy curls, was now gray, - and the curls were shorn away. The shoulders that were once straight and - stalwart were slightly stooped. Of the gay and gallant young man whom Joe - Maxwell had known as Archie Blandford nothing remained unchanged except - his brilliant eyes and his white teeth. Mr. Blandford had, in fact, seen - hard service. He had been desperately shot in one of the battles, and had - lain for months in a Richmond hospital. He was now, as he said, just - beginning to feel his oats again. - </p> - <p> - “Come!” said Mr. Deometari, “we must go to my room. It is the same old - room, in the same old tavern,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - When the two men and Joe Maxwell reached the room, which was one of the - series opening on the long veranda of the old tavern, Mr. Deometari - carefully closed the door, although the weather was pleasant enough—it - was the early fall of 1864. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” said he, drawing his chair in front of Joe, and placing his - hands on his knees, “I heard you mention a name out yonder when you first - spoke to me. What was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Pruitt,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Precisely so,” said Mr. Deometari, smiling in a satisfied way. “John - Pruitt. Now, what did you say about John Pruitt?” - </p> - <p> - “Late of said county, deceased,” dryly remarked Mr. Blandford, quoting - from the form of a legal advertisement. - </p> - <p> - “I said I saw him last night,” said Joe, and then he went on to explain - the circumstances. - </p> - <p> - “Very good! and now what did you hear me say about Pruitt?” - </p> - <p> - “You said he would be caught and not punished because he belonged to the - Relief Committee.” - </p> - <p> - “Hear that!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “If any but these friendly ears had - heard all that, we’d have been put on Johnson’s black list, and maybe we’d - have been transferred from the black list to the guard-house. Now, then,” - continued Mr. Deometari, “you don’t know anything about the Relief - Committee, of course, and as you might be inquiring around about it, and - asking what John Pruitt, the deserter, has to do with the Relief - Committee, I’ll tell you. But, my dear boy, you must remember this: It’s - not a matter to be joked about or talked of anywhere outside of this room. - Now, don’t forget. It isn’t much of a secret; it is simply a piece of - business that concerns only a few people. Do you remember reading or - hearing about the retreat from Laurel Hill?” asked Mr. Deometari, moving - his chair back and unwinding the stem of his Turkish pipe. “That was in - the early part of the war, and it will never cut much of a figure in - history, but some of those who were in that retreat will never forget it. - In the confusion of getting away a little squad of us, belonging mostly to - the First Georgia Regiment, were cut off from the main body. When we - halted to get our bearings there were not more than a dozen of us.” - </p> - <p> - “Seventeen, all told,” remarked Mr. Blandford. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, “seventeen. We were worse than lost. We were on - the mountains in a strange country. Behind us was the enemy and before us - was a forest of laurel that stretched away as far as the eye could reach. - To the right or to the left was the same uncertainty. We could hear - nothing of the rest of the command. To fire a gun was to invite capture, - and there was nothing for us to do but push ahead through the scrubby - growth.” - </p> - <p> - “The commissary was absent on a furlough,” remarked Mr. Blandford. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, laughing. “The commissary was missing, and - rations were scanty. Some of the men had none at all. Some had a little - hard-tack, and others had a handful or so of meal. Though the weather was - bitter cold, we built no fire the first night, for fear of attracting the - attention of the enemy. The next day and the next we struggled on. We - saved our rations the best we could, but they gave out after a while, and - there was nothing left but a little meal which John Pruitt was saving up - for Tom Henderson, who was ill and weak with fever. Every day, when we’d - stop to breathe awhile, Pruitt would make Henderson a little cupful of - gruel, while the rest of us ate corn, or roots, or chewed the inside bark - of the trees.‘’ - </p> - <p> - “And nobody begrudged Tom his gruel,” said Mr. Blandford, “though I’ll - swear the sight of it gave me the all-overs.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “Somebody did begrudge Tom the gruel. - One night this Captain Johnson, who is lording it around here now, thought - Pruitt and the rest of us were asleep, and he made an effort to steal the - little meal that was left. Well, Pruitt was very wide awake, and he caught - Johnson and gave him a tremendous flogging; but the villain had already - got into the haversack, and in the struggle the meal was spilled.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Deometari coiled the stem of his pipe around his neck, and blew a - great cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “But what about the Relief Committee, Mr. Deo?” inquired Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Why, to be sure! A nice story-teller am I!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “I - had forgotten the Relief Committee entirely. Well, we went forward, - growing weaker and weaker every day, until finally we came to a ravine.” - </p> - <p> - “It was a gorge,” observed Mr. Blandford, stretching himself out on Mr. - Deometari’s bed, “and a deep one too.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, a gorge,” said Mr. Deometari. “When we reached that gorge we were in - a famished condition. Not a bird could be seen except crows and buzzards. - The crows would have made good eating, no doubt, but they were very shy. - We had lived in the hope of finding a hog, or a sheep, or a cow, but not a - sign of a four-footed creature did we see. I don’t know how it was, but - that gorge seemed to stretch across our path like the Gulf of Despair. - Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that they would go no - farther. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0194.jpg" alt="0194 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0194.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “They said they had no desire to live; they were as weak and as foolish as - children. Of the seventeen men in the squad, there were but five who had - any hope, any spunk, or any spirit—Blandford there, Pruitt, - Henderson, this Captain Johnson, and myself.” - </p> - <p> - “You ought to put yourself first,” said Mr. Blandford. “You were as fat as - a pig all the time, and as full of life as a grasshopper in July.” - </p> - <p> - “This ravine or gorge,” continued Mr. Deometari, paying no attention to - the interruption, “was our salvation. Mr. Blandford and Pruitt explored it - for a little distance, and they found a little stream of water running at - the bottom. It was what you call a branch. When they came back there was - considerable disagreement among the men. The poor creatures, weak and - irritable from hunger, had lost all hope, and would listen to no argument - that didn’t suit their whims. There was this question to settle: Should we - cross the gorge and continue in the course we had been going, or should - we’ follow the gorge? It was a very serious question. We had not the - slightest idea where we were. We had been wandering about in the mountains - for eight days, and if we were going to get out at all it was necessary to - be in a hurry about it. - </p> - <p> - “Then there was another question. If the gorge was to be followed, which - way should we go? Should we follow the running water or should we go the - other way? Blandford and Pruitt had already made up their minds to follow - the running water, and of course I was going with them.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s because it was down hill,” remarked Mr. Blandford, laughing. “Deo - always said his legs were never made for going up hill.” - </p> - <p> - “We had a great discussion. My dear boy, if you want to see how peevish - and ill-natured and idiotic a grown man can be, just starve him for a - matter of eight or nine days. Some wanted to go one way and some wanted to - go another, while others wanted to stay where they were. Actually, - Blandford and I had to cut hickories and pretend that we were going to - flog the men who wanted to stay there and die, and when we got them on - their feet we had to drive them along like a drove of sheep, while Pruitt - led the way. - </p> - <p> - “Pruitt’s idea was that the running water led somewhere. This may seem to - be a very simple matter now, but in our weak and confused condition it was - a very fortunate thing that he had the idea and stuck to it. We found out - afterward that if we had continued on the course we had been going, or if - we had followed the gorge in the other direction, we would have buried - ourselves in a wilderness more than a hundred miles in extent. - </p> - <p> - “The next day a couple of hawks and two jay-birds were shot, and, though - they made small rations for seventeen men, yet they were refreshing, and - the very sight of them made us feel better. The walls of the gorge grew - wider apart, and the branch became larger as we followed it. The third day - after we had changed our course Pruitt, who was ahead, suddenly paused and - lifted his hand. Some of the men were so weak that they swayed from side - to side as they halted. The sight of them was pitiful. We soon saw what - had attracted Pruitt’s attention. On the rocks, above a pool of water, an - otter lay sunning himself. He was as fat as butter. We stood speechless a - moment and then sank to the ground. There was no fear that the otter could - hear our voices, for the branch, which had now grown into a creek, fell - noisily into the pool. If he had heard us—if he had slipped off the - rocks and disappeared—” Mr. Deometari paused and looked into his - pipe. - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens, Deo!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford, jumping up from the bed. - “I’ll never forget that as long as I live! I never had such feelings - before, and I’ve never had such since.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” continued Mr. Deometari, “it was an awful moment. Each man knew - that we must have the otter, but how could we get him? He must be shot, - but who could shoot him? Who would have nerve enough to put the ball in - the right spot? The man who held the gun would know how much depended on - him; he would be too excited to shoot straight. I looked at the men, and - most of them were trembling. Those who were not trembling were as white as - a sheet with excitement. I looked at Pruitt, and he was standing up, - watching the otter, and whistling a little jig under his breath. So I said - to him, as quietly as I could: - </p> - <p> - “‘Take your gun, man, and give it to him. You can’t miss. He’s as big as a - barn-door.’ - </p> - <p> - “Pruitt dropped on one knee, put a fresh cap on his gun, shook his hand - loose from his sleeve, leveled his piece, and said, ‘Pray for it, boys!’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0200.jpg" alt="0200 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0200.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Then he fired. He was so weak that the gun kicked him over. When I looked - at the otter it seemed that the creature had never moved, but presently I - saw a leg quivering, and then we rushed forward as fast as we could, the - happiest lot of men you ever saw on this earth. The otter was shot through - the head. The men were so ravenous they acted like maniacs. It was all - that Blandford and Pruitt and I could do to keep them from falling on the - otter with their knives and eating it raw, hide and all. - </p> - <p> - “But it saved us,” Mr. Deometari went on, “and we had something to spare. - The next day we met with a farmer hunting his stray sheep, and we soon got - back to the army. Four of us formed the Relief Committee before we parted. - Blandford, Pruitt, Tom Henderson, and myself—the men who had never - lost hope—promised each other, and shook hands on it, that whenever - one got in trouble the others would help him out without any questions. - </p> - <p> - “Now, it isn’t necessary to ask any questions about Pruitt He deserted - because his family were in a starving condition.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mr. Blandford, bringing his heavy jaws together with a snap, - “and I believe in my soul that Johnson has kept food and clothes away from - them!” - </p> - <p> - “I know he has,” said Mr. Deometari, calmly. “Tom Henderson is one of - Johnson’s clerks, and he keeps the run of things. He is to meet us - to-night, and then you’ll see a man who has been blazing mad for three - months.—Now, my boy,” continued Mr. Deometari, “forget all about - this. You are too young to be troubled with such things. We’re just - watching to see how Captain Johnson proposes to pay off the score he owes - Pruitt. Should you chance to see John, just tell him that the Relief - Committee has taken charge of Hillsborough for a few weeks. Another - thing,” said Mr. Deometari, laying his hand kindly on the boy’s shoulder, - “if you should be sent for some day or some night, just drop everything - and come with the messenger. A bright chap like you is never too small to - do good.” - </p> - <p> - The two men shook hands with Joe, and Mr. Blandford gravely took off his - hat when he bade the boy good-by. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a few days Joe - Maxwell forgot all about Mr. Deometari, Mr. Blandford, and Mr. Pruitt. - There was distinguished company visiting the editor of The Countryman—a - young lady from Virginia, Miss Nellie Carter, and her mother, and some - young officers at home on furlough. One of these young officers, a kinsman - of the editor, brought his pack of fox-hounds, and arrangements were made - for a grand fox-hunt. The plantation seemed to arouse itself to please the - visitors. The negroes around the house put on their Sunday clothes and - went hurrying about their duties, as if to show themselves at their best. - </p> - <p> - Joe was very glad when the editor told him that he was to go with the - fox-hunters and act as master of ceremonies. Fox-hunting was a sport of - which he was very fond, for it seemed to combine all the elements of - health and pleasure in outdoor life. Shortly after Joe went to the - plantation the editor of <i>The Countryman</i> had brought from - Hillsborough a hound puppy, which had been sent him by a Mr. Birdsong. - This Mr. Birdsong was a celebrated breeder of fox-hounds, having at one - time the only pack south of Virginia that could catch a red fox. He was a - great admirer of the editor of <i>The Countryman</i>, and he sent him the - dog as a gift. In his letter Mr. Birdsong wrote that the puppy had been - raised under a gourd-vine, and so the editor called him Jonah. Joe Maxwell - thought the name was a very good one, but it turned out that the dog was - very much better than his name. The editor gave the dog to Joe, who took - great pains in training him. Before Jonah was six months old he had - learned to trail a fox-skin, and by the time he was a year old hardly a - morning passed that Joe did not drag the skin for the pleasure of seeing - Jonah trail it. He developed great speed and powers of scent, and he was - not more than two years old before he had run down and caught a red fox, - unaided and alone. Naturally, Joe was very proud of Jonah, and he was glad - of an opportunity to show off the dog’s hunting qualities. - </p> - <p> - In training Jonah, Joe had also unwittingly trained an old fox that made - his home on the plantation. The fox came to be well known to every hunter - in the county. He was old, and tough, and sly. He had been pursued so - often that if he heard a dog bark in the early morning hours, or a horn - blow, he was up and away. The negroes called him “Old Sandy,” and this was - the name he came to be known by. Jonah when a puppy had trailed Old Sandy - many a time, and Joe knew all his tricks and turnings. He decided that it - would be well to give the young officer’s pack some exercise with this - cunning old fox. - </p> - <p> - All the arrangements for the hunt were made by the editor. Joe Maxwell was - to escort Miss Nellie Carter, who, although a Virginian and a good - horsewoman, had never ridden across the country after a fox. The lad was - to manage so that Miss Carter should see at least as much of the hunt as - the young men who were to follow the hounds, while Harbert was to go along - to pull down and put up the fences. To Joe this was a new and comical - feature of fox-hunting, but the editor said that this would be safer for - Miss Carter. - </p> - <p> - When the morning of the hunt arrived, Joe was ready before any of the - guests, as he had intended to be. He wanted to see to everything, much to - Harbert’s amusement. Like all boys, he was excited and enthusiastic, and - he was very anxious to see the hunt go off successfully. Finally, when all - had had a cup of coffee, they mounted their horses and were ready to go. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” said Joe, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed, as he - knew that Miss Nellie Carter was looking and listening, “there must be no - horn-blowing until after the hunt is over. Of course, you can blow if you - want to,” Joe went on, thinking he had heard one of the young men laugh, - “but we won’t have much of a hunt. We are going after Old Sandy this - morning, and he doesn’t like to hear a horn at all. If we can keep the - dogs from barking until we get to the field, so much the better.” - </p> - <p> - “You must pay attention,” said Miss Carter, as some of the young men were - beginning to make sarcastic suggestions. “I want to see a real fox-hunt, - and I’m sure it will be better to follow Mr. Maxwell’s advice.” - </p> - <p> - Joe blushed to here his name pronounced so sweetly, but in the dim - twilight of morning his embarrassment could not be seen. - </p> - <p> - “Are your dogs all here, sir?” he asked the young man who had brought his - hounds. “I have counted seven, and mine makes eight.” - </p> - <p> - “Is yours a rabbit-dog?” the young man asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he’s very good for rabbits,” replied Joe, irritated by the question. - </p> - <p> - “Then hadn’t we better leave him?” the young man asked, not unkindly, “He - might give us a good deal of trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll answer for that,” said Joe. “If everybody is ready, we’ll go.” - </p> - <p> - “You are to be my escort, Mr. Maxwell,” said Miss Carter, taking her place - by Joe’s side, “and I know I shall be well taken care of.” - </p> - <p> - The cavalcade moved off and for a mile followed the public road. Then it - turned into a lane and then into a plantation road that led to what was - called the “Turner old field,” where for three or four years, and perhaps - longer, Old Sandy had made his headquarters. By the time the hunters - reached the field, which was a mile in extent, and made up of pasture-land - overgrown with broom-sedge, wild plum-trees, and blackberry-vines, the - dawn had disappeared before the sun. Red and yellow clouds mingled - together in the east, and a rosy glow fell across the hills and woods. As - they halted for Harbert to take down the fence, Joe stole a glance at his - companion, and as she sat with her lips parted and the faint reflection of - the rosy sky on her cheeks, he thought he had never seen a prettier - picture. Jonah seemed to be of the same opinion, for he stood by the young - lady’s horse, looking into her face, and whistled wistfully through his - nose. - </p> - <p> - “That is your dog, I know!” said Miss Carter. “Why, he’s a perfect beauty! - Poor fellow!” she exclaimed, stretching her arm out and filliping her - fingers. Jonah gathered himself together, leaped lightly into the air, and - touched her fair hand with his velvet tongue. Joe blushed with delight. - “Why, he jumped as high as a man’s head!” she cried. “I know he will catch - the fox.” - </p> - <p> - “I think we have stolen a march on Old Sandy,” said Joe, “and if we have, - you’ll see a fine race. I hope the other dogs can keep up.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said their owner, “they are Maryland dogs.” - </p> - <p> - “My dog,” said Joe, proudly, “is a Birdsong.” - </p> - <p> - By this time the hunters had crossed the fence, and the dogs, with the - exception of Jonah, were beginning to cast about in the broom-sedge and - brier-patches. - </p> - <p> - “I hope Jonah isn’t lazy,” said Miss Carter, watching the dog as he walked - in quiet dignity by the side of her horse. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” said Joe, “he isn’t lazy; but he never gets in a hurry until the - time comes.” - </p> - <p> - The young men tried to tease Joe about Jonah, but the lad only smiled, and - Jonah gradually worked away from the horses. It was noticed that he did - not hunt as closely as the other dogs, nor did he nose the ground as - carefully. He swept the field in ever-widening circles, going in an easy - gallop, that was the perfection of grace, and energy, and strength. - Presently Harbert cried out: - </p> - <p> - “Looky yonder, Marse Joe! Looky yonder at Jonah!” - </p> - <p> - All eyes were turned in the direction that Harbert pointed. The dog was - hunting where the brown sedge was higher than his head, and he had - evidently discovered something, for he would leap into the air, look - around, and drop back into the sedge, only to go through the same - performance with increasing energy. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t he give a yelp or two and call the other dogs to help him?” - exclaimed one of the young men. - </p> - <p> - “He’s no tattler,” said Joe, “and he doesn’t need any help. That fox has - either just got up or he isn’t twenty yards away. Just wait!” - </p> - <p> - The next moment Jonah gave tongue with thrilling energy, repeated the - challenge twice, and was off, topping the fence like a bird. The effect on - the other dogs was magical; they rushed to the cry, caught up the red-hot - drag, scrambled over the fence the best they could, and went away, - followed by a cheer from Harbert that shook the dew from the leaves. The - young men were off, too, and Joe had all he could do to hold his horse, - which was in the habit of running with the hounds. The sound of the hunt - grew fainter as the dogs ran across a stretch of meadow-land and through a - skirt of woods to the open country beyond; and Joe and Miss Carter, - accompanied by Harbert, proceeded leisurely to the brow of a hill near by. - </p> - <p> - “If that is Old Sandy,” said Joe, “he will come across the Bermuda field - yonder, turn to the left, and pass us not very far from that dead pine.” - Joe was very proud of his knowledge. - </p> - <p> - “Why, we shall see the best of the hunt!” cried Miss Carter, - enthusiastically. - </p> - <p> - They sat on their horses and listened. Sometimes the hounds seemed to be - coming nearer, and then they would veer off. Finally, their musical voices - melted away in the distance. Joe kept his eyes on the Bermuda field, and - so did Harbert, while Miss Carter tapped her horse’s mane gently with her - riding-whip, and seemed to be enjoying the scene. They waited a long time, - and Joe was beginning to grow disheartened, when Harbert suddenly - exclaimed: - </p> - <p> - “Looky yonder, Marse Joe! what dat gwine ’cross de Bermuda pastur’?” - </p> - <p> - Across the brow of the hill slipped a tawny shadow—slipped across - and disappeared before Miss Carter could see it. - </p> - <p> - “That’s Old Sandy,” cried Joe; “now watch for Jonah!” - </p> - <p> - Presently the hounds could be heard again, coming nearer and nearer. Then - a larger and a darker shadow sprang out of the woods and swept across the - pasture, moving swiftly and yet with the regularity of machinery. At short - intervals a little puff of vapor would rise from this black shadow, and - then the clear voice of Jonah would come ringing over the valley. Then the - rest of the dogs, a group of shadows, with musical voices, swept across - the Bermuda field. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed Miss Carter, clapping her little hands. - </p> - <p> - “Wait,” said Joe; “don’t make any noise. He’ll pass here, and go to the - fence yonder, and if he isn’t scared to death you’ll see a pretty trick.” - </p> - <p> - It was a wide circle the fox made after he passed through the Bermuda - field. He crossed the little stream that ran through the valley, skirted a - pine thicket, ran for a quarter of a mile along a plantation path, and - then turned and came down the fallow ground that lay between the creek and - the hill where Joe and Miss Carter, with Harbert, had taken their stand. - It was a comparatively level stretch of nearly a half-mile. The old - corn-rows ran lengthwise the field, and down one of these Old Sandy came - in full view of those who were waiting to see him pass. He was running - rapidly, but not at full speed, and, although his tongue was hanging out, - he was not distressed. Reaching the fence two hundred yards away from the - spectators, he clambered lightly to the top, sat down on a rail and began - to lick his fore-paws, stopping occasionally, with one paw suspended in - the air, to listen to the dogs. In a moment or two more Jonah entered the - field at the head of the valley. Old Sandy, carefully balancing himself on - the top rail of the fence, walked it for a hundred yards or more, then - gathering himself together sprang into the air and fell in the broom-sedge - fully twenty feet away from the fence. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I hope the dogs won’t catch him!” exclaimed Miss Carter. “He surely - deserves to escape!” - </p> - <p> - “He got sense like folks,” said Harbert. - </p> - <p> - “He stayed on the fence too long. Just look at Jonah!” cried Joe. - </p> - <p> - The hound came down the field like a whirlwind. He was running at least - thirty yards to the left of the furrow the fox had followed. - </p> - <p> - “Why, he isn’t following the track of the fox,” exclaimed Miss Carter. “I - thought hounds trailed foxes by the scent.” - </p> - <p> - “They do,” said Joe, “but Jonah doesn’t need to follow it as the other - dogs do. The dog that runs with his nose to the ground can never catch a - red fox.” - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t he beautiful!” cried the young lady, as Jonah rushed past, his head - up and his sonorous voice making music in the air. He topped the fence - some distance above the point where the fox had left it, lost the trail, - and made a sweeping circle to the right, increasing his speed as he did - so. Still at fault, he circled widely to the left, picked up the drag a - quarter of a mile from the fence, and pushed on more eagerly than ever. - The rest of the dogs had overrun the track at the point where the fox had - turned to enter the field, but they finally found it again, and went by - the spectators in fine style, running together very prettily. At the fence - they lost the trail, and for some minutes they were casting about. One of - the younger dogs wanted to take the back track, but Harbert turned him - around, and was about to set the pack right, when the voice of Jonah was - heard again, clear and ringing. Old Sandy, finding himself hard pushed, - had dropped flat in the grass and allowed the hound to overrun him. Then - he doubled, and started back. He gained but little, but he was still game. - Jonah whirled in a short circle, and was after the fox almost instantly. - Old Sandy seemed to know that this was his last opportunity. With a - marvelous burst of speed he plunged through the belated dogs that were - hunting for the lost drag, slipped through the fence, and went back by the - spectators like a flash. There was a tremendous outburst of music from the - dogs as they sighted him, and for one brief moment Joe was afraid that - Jonah would be thrown out. The next instant the dog appeared on the fence, - and there he sighted the fox. It was then that the courage and speed of - Jonah showed themselves. Nothing could have stood up before him. Within a - hundred yards he ran into the fox. Realizing his fate, Old Sandy leaped - into the air with a squall, and the next moment the powerful jaws of Jonah - had closed on him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0216.jpg" alt="0216 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0216.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - By this time the rest of the hunters had come in sight. From a distance - they witnessed the catch. They saw the rush that Jonah made; they saw Miss - Carter and Joe Maxwell galloping forward; they saw the lad leap from his - horse and bend over the fox, around which the dogs were jumping and - howling; they saw him rise, with hat in hand, and present something to his - fair companion; and then they knew that the young lady would ride home - with Old Sandy’s brush suspended from her saddle. - </p> - <p> - These hunters came up after a while. Their horses were jaded, and the - riders themselves looked unhappy. - </p> - <p> - “Did you notice which one of my dogs caught the fox?” asked the young man - to whom the pack belonged. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, I did not,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “I declare that is too funny!” exclaimed Miss Carter, laughing merrily, - and then she went on to describe the chase as she saw it. The young man - smiled as though he thought it was all a joke, and that night he called up - Harbert, and offered him a dollar in Confederate money if he would tell - the truth about the matter. Harbert told him the truth, but it was so - unpleasant that the young man forgot all about the money, although a - dollar at that time was worth not more than twelve and a half cents. - </p> - <p> - Miss Carter seemed to be almost as proud of Jonah’s performance as Joe - was, and this made the lad feel very proud and happy. But, as they were - going home, an incident happened which, for the time, and for some days - afterward, drove all thoughts of Jonah and fox-hunting out of his mind. - The hunters went back the way they had come, and shortly after they - entered the public road they met a small procession that turned out to be - very interesting, especially to Joe. First, there was a spring wagon, - drawn by one horse and driven by a negro. On the seat with the negro, and - securely fastened with ropes, was Mr. John Pruitt, the deserter. Behind - the negro and Mr. Pruitt were two soldiers with guns, and three soldiers - mounted on horses, and armed, acted as escort. The young officers who had - been hunting with Joe Maxwell stopped the wagon and made inquiries until - they had satisfied their curiosity. Joe would have spoken to Mr. Pruitt, - but the latter, by an almost imperceptible movement of the head, seemed to - forbid it. His face was as serene as if he had been on dress parade. As - the wagon was about to move on, he spoke: - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t that the young chap that works in the printin’-office down by - Phoenix school-house?” he asked, nodding his head toward Joe, without - looking at him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said one of the young officers. - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir,” said Mr. Pruitt, drawing a long breath, “I wish you’d please - tell him to be so good ez to git word to my wife down in the Yarberry - settlement that I won’t have a chance to come home in a week or more, an’ - she’ll hafter do the best she kin tell I git back.” - </p> - <p> - Joe said he would be glad to do so. - </p> - <p> - “I ’low’d he would,” said Mr. Pruitt, still speaking to the young officer; - “an’ I’m mighty much erbliged.” - </p> - <p> - Then the little procession moved on toward Hillsborough, and the hunters - went homeward. Miss Nellie Carter was very much interested. - </p> - <p> - “He doesn’t look a bit like a deserter,” she said, impulsively, “and I’m - sure there’s some mistake. I don’t believe a deserter could hold his head - up.” - </p> - <p> - Joe then made bold to tell her what he had heard—that Mr. Pruitt and - several other soldiers had come home because they heard their families - were suffering for food. Miss Carter was very much interested, and wanted - to go with the lad to visit Mrs. Pruitt. - </p> - <p> - “But I can’t go,” said Joe; “there’s nobody to do my work in the - printing-office. I’ll send Mrs. Pruitt word to-night by some of the - negroes.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” cried Miss Carter, “that will never do. I’ll see my cousin and - tell him about it. You must go to-day, and I’ll go with you. Oh, it - mustn’t be postponed; you must go this very afternoon! Why, what is this - little newspaper you are printing out here in the woods? The woman may be - suffering.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Carter saw her cousin, the editor, and lost no time in telling him - about Mr. Pruitt and his family. The editor, who was one of the best of - men, was so much interested that, instead of sending Joe with the young - lady, he went himself, taking in his buggy a stout hamper of provisions. - When they came back, Miss Carter’s eyes were red, as if she had been - crying, and the editor looked very serious. - </p> - <p> - “I’m very glad you didn’t go,” he said to Joe, when Miss Carter had - disappeared in the house. - </p> - <p> - “Was anybody dead?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied the editor. “Oh, no; nothing so bad as that. But the woman - and her children have been in a terrible fix! I don’t know who is to blame - for it, but I shall score the county officers and the Ladies’ Aid Society - in the next paper. These people have been actually in a starving - condition, and they look worse than if they had gone through a spell of - fever. They are nothing but skin and bones. The main trouble is that they - live in such an out-of-the-way place. The house is a mile from the public - road, and hard to find.” - </p> - <p> - “I heard,” said Joe, “that the provost-marshal had something to do with - holding back supplies that ought to have gone to Mr. Pruitt’s family.” - </p> - <p> - “How could he?” asked the editor; and then he added, quickly: “Why, of - course he could; he is in charge of everything. He is judge, jury, lawyer, - and general dictator. Who told you about it?” - </p> - <p> - “I heard it in town,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he’s a mean rascal,” said the editor. He bade Joe good-evening, and - started in the house, but half-way up the steps he paused and called to - the lad. - </p> - <p> - “Here’s something I forgot to ask you about,” he said, taking a letter - from his pocket. “It is a note from Deo about you. What do you know about - Deo?” - </p> - <p> - “About me?” said Joe. “I used to know Mr. Deo when I was a little boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you are not such a big boy now,” said the editor, smiling. “Here is - what Deo says: ‘You have a boy working in your printing-office who can - make himself very useful in a good cause when the time comes. His name is - Joe Maxwell, and he is a very good friend of mine. At least he used to be. - Before long I shall send for him, and, whether I send in the day or in the - night, I want you to let him come. If I were to tell you now what I want - with him, you would laugh and say that all fat men are foolish. What I - want him to do can be done only by a woman or a boy. A woman is not to be - thought of, and I know of no boy I can trust except Maxwell. Just give him - your permission beforehand, so that there will be no delay.’ Now what do - you think about it?” inquired the editor. - </p> - <p> - “May I go?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “That is for you to decide,” said the editor. “I have been knowing - Deometari for nearly twenty years. He’s a good lawyer and a clever man. - But, if you do go, be careful of yourself. Don’t get into any trouble. - Tell Deo that all of us like you out here, and we don’t want any - foolishness.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—A NIGHT’S ADVENTURES - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was the very - next afternoon that Joe Maxwell received the expected summons from Mr. - Deometari. The message was brought by a negro on a mule, and the mule - seemed to be very tired, although it had come only nine miles. - </p> - <p> - “I never is see no mule like dis,” said the negro, indignantly, as he took - a soiled letter from his hat and handed it to Joe. “I start from town at - two o’tlocks, an’ here ’tis mos’ night. I got me a stick an’ I hit ’er on - one side, an’ den she’d shy on t’er side de road, an’ when I hit ’er on - dat side, she’d shy on dis side. She been gwine slonchways de whole - blessed way.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0224.jpg" alt="0224 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0224.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Mr. Deomatari’s note had neither address nor signature, and it was very - brief. “Come at once,” it said. “You remember the retreat from Laurel Hill - and the otter? Come in by the jail and around by the Branham place. If - some one cries, ‘Who goes there?’ say, ‘It is the Relief.’” - </p> - <p> - Joe turned the note over and studied it. “Who gave you this?” he asked the - negro. - </p> - <p> - “Dat chuffy-lookin’ white man what stay dar at de tavern. He say you - mustn’t wait for me, but des push on. Dem wuz his ve’y words—des - push on.” - </p> - <p> - Joe had some trouble in getting away. The editor had gone off somewhere in - the plantation; and Butterfly, the horse he proposed to ride—the - horse he always rode—was in the pasture, and a colt in a plantation - pasture is as big a problem as a hard sum in arithmetic. The colt is like - the answer. It is there somewhere; but how are you going to get it, and - when? Harbert solved the problem after a while by cornering the colt and - catching him; but the sun was nearly down when Joe started, and he then - had nine miles to ride. Harbert, who was a sort of plantation almanac, - said there would be no moon until after midnight, and a mighty small one - then; but this made no difference to Joe Maxwell. Every foot of the road - was as familiar to him as it was to old Mr. Wall, the hatter, who was in - the habit of remarking that, if anybody would bring him a hatful of gravel - from the big road that led to Hillsborough, he’d “up an’ tell ’em right - whar they scooped it up at.” Joe not only knew the road well, but he was - well mounted. Butterfly had all the faults Of a colt except fear. He was - high-spirited and nervous, but nothing seemed to frighten him. When the - lad started, Harbert ran on ahead to unlatch the big plantation gate that - opened on the public-road. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, Marse Joe,” said the negro. “I wish you mighty well.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, Harbert,” responded Joe, as he went cantering into the - darkness. - </p> - <p> - There was something more than a touch of fall in the evening air, and - Butterfly sprang forward eagerly, and chafed at the bit that held him - back. The short, sharp snorts that came from his quivering nostrils showed - the tremendous energy he had in reserve, and it was not until he had gone - a mile or more that he settled down into the long, swift, sweeping gallop - that seemed in the dim light to throw the trees and fences behind him. At - a cross-road Joe heard the tramp of horses and the jingling of spurs and - bridle-bits, but he never paused, and it was not until long afterward he - learned that he had come near forming the acquaintance of Wilson’s - raiders, who were making their way back to Atlanta. - </p> - <p> - By the time the stars had come out, Joe could see the lights of - Hillsborough twinkling in the distance, and in a short time he had turned - into the back street that led by the jail and made way across the town - until he reached the square below the tavern. Then he turned to the left, - and was soon in front of Mr. Deometari’s room. Boy-like, he was secretly - sorry that some sentinel had not challenged him on the way, so that he - could give the countersign. A muffled figure, sitting on the edge of the - veranda, roused itself as Joe rode up. - </p> - <p> - “Where is Mr. Deometari?” the lad asked. - </p> - <p> - “He in dar,” replied the figure. “Is you fum de plantation, sah?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Den I’m to take yo’ hoss,” the negro said. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you must be careful with him,” said the lad. - </p> - <p> - “Dat I will, suh, kaze Marse Deo say he gwine pay me, an’ ’sides dat, I - stays at de liberty stable.” - </p> - <p> - Joe saw his horse led away, and then he knocked at Mr. Deometari’s door. - </p> - <p> - “Come in!” cried that genial gentleman. - </p> - <p> - “I’m here, sir,” said Joe, as he entered. - </p> - <p> - “Why, my dear boy! so you are! and glad I am to see you. And you are on - time. I had just pulled out my watch, and said to myself, ‘In one short - quarter of an hour the boy should be here, and I shall have his supper - ready for him.’ And just then you knocked, and here is my watch still in - my hand. My dear boy, sit down and rest your bones. I feel better.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Deomatari had supper for Joe and himself brought to his room, and as - he ate he talked. - </p> - <p> - “You are a clever chap,” said Mr. Deome-tari. “You don’t know how clever - you are. No,” he went on, seeing a curious smile on Joe’s face—“no, - I’m not making fun of you. I mean just what I say. Where is the boy in - this town who would have galloped through the dark on an errand that he - knew nothing of? I tell you, he is not to be found. But suppose he could - be found, wouldn’t he bother me with ten thousand questions about what he - was expected to do, and how he was going to do it, and when, and which, - and what not? Now, I want to ask you why you came?” - </p> - <p> - “Because you sent for me,” said Joe buttering another biscuit. “And - because I wanted to find out all about—” - </p> - <p> - “All about what?” asked Mr. Deometari. - </p> - <p> - “About Mr. Pruitt, and—everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Mr. Deometari, “I won’t tell you precisely why I sent for you—you’ll - find out for yourself; but one of the reasons is that I want you to go - with a little party of us to a point not far from your home. You know the - roads, and you know what the negroes call the short cuts.” - </p> - <p> - “To-night?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, to-night. Not now, but a little later.” - </p> - <p> - Joe ate his supper, and then sat gazing into the fire that had been - kindled on the hearth. - </p> - <p> - “I was just thinking, Mr. Deo,” he said, after a while, “whether I ought - to go and see mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Now that is the question.” Mr. Deometari drew his chair closer to the - lad, as if preparing to argue the matter. “Of course, you feel as if you - ought to go. That is natural. But, if you go, you will have to give your - mother some reason for being here. You could only tell her that I had sent - for you. This is such a poor reason that she would be uneasy. Don’t you - think so?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Joe, after a pause, “I can come to see her next Sunday.” - </p> - <p> - Rubbing his fat hands together, Mr. Deome-tari looked at Joe a long time. - He seemed to be meditating. The ring on his finger glistened like a ray of - sunlight that had been captured and was trying to escape. - </p> - <p> - “I want to take you around,” he said to Joe after a while, “and introduce - you to Captain Johnson, our worthy provost-marshal.” - </p> - <p> - “Me?” asked the lad, in a tone of astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mr. Deometari. “Why not? A bright boy like you should be - acquainted with all our great military men. Our noble captain would be - very glad to see you if he knew as much about your visit as I do.” - </p> - <p> - “But as it is,” said Joe, quickly, “he doesn’t know any more about it than - I do.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy,” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, in a bantering tone, “don’t get - impatient. It is so very simple that all our plans might be spoiled if I - told you. Now, then,” he continued, looking at his watch, “if you are - ready, we will go. You have no overcoat, but my shawl here will answer - just as well.” - </p> - <p> - Joe protested that he never wore an overcoat, even in the coldest weather; - but his protest had no effect on Mr. Deometari, who gave the shawl a - dexterous turn and wrapped Joe in it from head to heels. Then he fastened - it at the lad’s throat with a long steel pin that had a handle like a - dagger. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I look just like a girl,” said Joe, glancing down at his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Very well, Miss Josephine,” laughed Mr. Deometari; “just take my arm.” - </p> - <p> - The provost-marshal’s office was on the opposite side of the public square - from the tavern, and Mr. Deometari, instead of following the sidewalk, - went through the court-house yard. There was not much formality observed - around the office. There was no sentinel stationed at the door, which was - opened (in response to Mr. Deometari’s knock) by a small negro boy. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0232.jpg" alt="0232 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0232.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Down a little passage-way, or hall, Mr. Deometari went, followed by Joe. A - light shone from a door at the end of a passage on the left, and into this - door Mr. Deometari went without ceremony. There was not much furniture in - the room—four chairs, a lounge, and a table. A sword hung on the - wall, between lithograph portraits of General Lee and Stonewall Jackson; - and on one side was a long array of pigeonholes full of papers. A man sat - at the table, and he was so busily engaged in writing that he nodded - without looking up from his work. - </p> - <p> - “Henderson,” said Mr. Deometari, “I have company to-night. I want you to - know this young man. His name is Joe Maxwell. He is an honorary member of - the Relief Committee.” - </p> - <p> - At this Henderson wiped his pen on his head and laid it down. Then he - peered across the table at Joe. The two candles that gave him light were - so close to his eyes that they blinded him when he lifted his face. - </p> - <p> - “Maxwell, did you say?—All right, Mr. Maxwell; I am glad to see you. - Excuse my hand; it is full of ink.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Henderson had a soft, gentle voice, and his hand, although it was - splashed with ink, was as delicate as that of a woman. - </p> - <p> - “Is this the Mr. Henderson you were telling me about some time ago?” asked - Joe, turning to Mr. Deometari. “I mean the Mr. Henderson who was sick when - you retreated from Laurel Hill?” - </p> - <p> - “The same,” said Mr. Deometari. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Henderson laughed softly to hide his surprise, pushed his chair back, - and rose from his seat. Whatever he was going to say was left unsaid. At - that moment a knock that echoed down the hallway came on the outer door, - and it was followed almost immediately by the firm and measured tread of - some newcomer. Then there appeared in the doorway the serene face of Mr. - Archie Blandford. He glanced around the room half-smiling until his eyes - fell on Joe, and then the shadowy smile gave place to an unmistakable - frown. Joe saw it, and for the first time felt that his position was a - peculiar one, to say the least. He began to feel very uncomfortable, and - this feeling was not relieved by the curt nod of recognition that Mr. - Blandford gave him. He was a sensitive lad, and it was not pleasant to - realize that he was regarded as an intruder. He looked at Mr. Deometari, - but that gentleman seemed to be absorbed in a study of the portraits on - the wall. Mr. Blandford advanced a few steps into the room, hesitated, and - then said, abruptly: - </p> - <p> - “Deo! let me see you a moment.” - </p> - <p> - The two men went into the hall and as far as the outer door, and, although - they talked in subdued tones, the passage took the place of a - speaking-tube, and every word they uttered could be heard by Joe Maxwell - and Mr. Henderson. - </p> - <p> - “Deo,” said Mr. Blandford, “what under the sun is Maxwell doing here? He - ought to be at home in bed.” - </p> - <p> - “He is here,” Mr. Deometari explained, “at my invitation.” - </p> - <p> - “But your reason must tell you, Deo, that that child ought not to be mixed - up in this night’s business. It is almost certain to be serious.” - </p> - <p> - “That is precisely the reason he is here,” said Mr. Deometari. “I might - preach to you from now until doomsday, and you’d never lis-ten to me. But, - with that boy looking at you, you’ll keep your temper. I know you better - than you know yourself. You came here tonight with your mind made up to do - something rash. I read it in your face last night; I saw it in your eyes - this morning; I hear it in your voice now. My dear fellow, it will never - do in the world. You would ruin everything. What you intended to do, you - won’t dare to do with that boy looking at you. And there’s another reason: - if this man Johnson is to be taken out of the county, the best route is by - Armour’s Ferry, and Maxwell knows every foot of the road.” - </p> - <p> - Then there was a pause, and Mr. Henderson went to the door and said; - </p> - <p> - “You two might as well come in here and have it out. We can hear every - word you say.” - </p> - <p> - They came back into the room, Mr. Bland-ford smiling, and Mr. Deometari a - little flushed. - </p> - <p> - “I forgot to shake hands with you just now,” said Mr. Blandford, going - over to Joe and seizing the lad’s hand. “It wasn’t because I don’t like - you.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” replied Joe. “I don’t understand what you and Mr. Deo were - talking about, but I don’t wan’t to be in the way.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not in the way at all,” said Mr. Deometari, emphatically. - </p> - <p> - “I should say not,” exclaimed Mr. Blandford, heartily. “Deo is right and I - was wrong. I’d be happy if I wasn’t in anybody’s way any more than you - are. You’ll find out when you grow bigger that a man never gets too old to - be a fool.” With that he reached under his overcoat and unbuckled a heavy - pistol, and placed it on the mantel.—“You see,” he said to Mr. - Deometari, “I am making a complete surrender. I don’t want to have that - gun where I can get my hands on it when I see our friend Captain Johnson.” - </p> - <p> - “You may buckle on your pistol,” remarked Mr. Henderson, softly. “You - won’t see the captain to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Thunderation!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, springing to his feet. “We must - see him! Pruitt is in the guard-house. Sick or well, Captain Johnson must - travel with us this night. I don’t want him killed or hurt, but the - scoundrel shall strut around this town no more.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s just as I tell you,” said Henderson, in his gentle way; “you’ll not - see him to-night.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Blandford laughed, as though he regarded the matter as a joke, while - Mr. Henderson began to fumble among some papers on the table. He selected - from these three little documents, which he spread out before him, one on - the other. Then he looked at the other two men and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Tom,” said Mr. Deometari, “this is a very serious matter. You know this - man Johnson as well as we do, and you know that the time has come to get - rid of him.” - </p> - <p> - “I know him a great deal better than either of you,” said Mr. Henderson, - still smiling, “and that is the reason he’s not here to-night. That is the - reason you won’t see him.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Deometari paced back and forth on the floor, pulling his whiskers, - while Mr. Blandford drummed impatiently on the table. - </p> - <p> - “The trouble is,” Mr. Henderson went on, still addressing Mr. Deometari, - “that we are both afraid of Archie Blandford’s temper.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, just listen at that!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford. “Why, you’ll make - this chap here think I’m vicious. He’ll believe I’m a man-eater.” - </p> - <p> - “We both know how he feels toward Captain Johnson,” Mr. Henderson - continued, not heeding the interruption, “and we have both been trying to - prevent him from doing anything he might regret. I think your plan would - have succeeded; and I’m glad you brought Maxwell, anyhow, because I like - to meet a bright boy once in a while; but my plan is the best, after all, - for Captain Johnson is gone.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Deometari stopped walking the floor, and sat down. “Tell us about it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Mr. Henderson, “here is some correspondence that came to - Captain Johnson through the post-office. There are three letters. We will - call this number one: - </p> - <p> - “‘Sir: It has been noticed that you have refused to forward supplies - intended for the wives and children of Confederate soldiers. This refers - especially to the wife and children of one John Pruitt.’” - </p> - <p> - “There is no signature,” said Mr. Henderson. “This”—taking up - another document—“we will call number two.” - </p> - <p> - “‘Sir: It is known that no supplies have left this post for the wife and - children of one John Pruitt. Will the Relief Committee have to act? - </p> - <p> - “Here,” continued Mr. Henderson, “is the last. It is number three: - </p> - <p> - “‘Sir: John Pruitt is in jail, where he can not help himself. The Relief - Committee will meet to-morrow night. Hold yourself in readiness to hear - again the story of the retreat from Laurel Hill.’” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said Mr. Deometari, as Mr. Henderson paused. - </p> - <p> - “Well, the man was worried nearly to death. He was in a continual fidget. - At last he came to me and talked the matter over. That was yesterday. We - went over the Laurel Hill incidents together, and I used Archie - Blandford’s name pretty freely. The upshot of it was that I advised - Captain Johnson to report to the commander of the post in Macon, and he - took my advice.” - </p> - <p> - “Do I look like a dangerous man?” asked Mr. Blandford, turning to Joe. - </p> - <p> - “Not now,” replied Joe. “But your eyes are very bright.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish to goodness they were as bright as yours!” said Mr. Blandford, - laughing. - </p> - <p> - “So we’ve had all our trouble for nothing,” Mr. Deometari suggested. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” said Mr. Henderson; “we’ve been saved a great deal of trouble. - Johnson is gone, and I have here an order for Pruitt’s release.” - </p> - <p> - “If we had known all this,” remarked Mr. Deometari, “Maxwell would be safe - in bed, where I suspect he ought to be.—My son,” he went on, “it is - a pity to have you riding back and forth in the night.” - </p> - <p> - “Just to please a fat man with the whimsies,” Mr. Blandford observed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is no trouble to me,” Joe protested. “It is almost like a book, - only I don’t exactly understand it all. What were you going to do with - Captain Johnson?” - </p> - <p> - “Me? oh, I—well, the fact is, Deo was commanding my regiment - to-night,” replied Mr. Blandford. He seemed to be embarrassed. - </p> - <p> - “It is all very simple,” said Mr. Deometari. - </p> - <p> - “When you get a little older you’ll find a great many people like Captain - Johnson. He had a little power, and he has used it so as to turn all the - people here against him. Another trouble is, that he used to belong to the - regulars, where the discipline is as strict as it can be. He has tried to - be too strict here, and these Confederate people won’t stand it. The - private soldier thinks he is as good as a commissioned officer, and - sometimes better. A provost-marshal is a sort of military chief of police, - and, when his commander is as far away as Macon, he can do a good deal of - harm, especially if he has a streak of meanness running through him. - Johnson has made enemies here by the hundred. Worst of all, he has treated - the wives of soldiers very badly. You know all about his spite at John - Pruitt. We were going to take him to-night to Armour’s Ferry, put him - across the river, and give him to understand that we could get along - without him.” - </p> - <p> - “And he would never come back?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Mr. Deometari, “he would never come back.” - </p> - <p> - “Was Mr. Blandford very mad with him?” inquired the lad. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I was,” that gentleman admitted, laughing a little and looking - uncomfortable. “He had me arrested once, and tried to make me shovel sand - into a barrel that was open at both ends. What do you think of that?” - </p> - <p> - “I think it must have been very funny,” said Joe, laughing heartily. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon it was funny,” observed Mr. Bland-ford, grimly, “but the rascal - wouldn’t have enjoyed the fun if it hadn’t been for this big fat man - here.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not referring to me, I hope,” said Mr. Henderson, so seriously - that the rest burst out laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Come, now,” Mr. Deometari suggested. “Let’s let in some fresh air on poor - John Pruitt.” - </p> - <p> - There was nothing more to be done after Mr. Pruitt was released from the - guard-house, and so Joe mounted his horse and cantered off to the - plantation. Butterfly was very glad to have his head turned in that - direction, and he went so swiftly that in the course of an hour Joe was at - home and in bed. His mind was so full of what he had seen and heard that - he went over it all in his slumber. Mr. Deometari, chunky as he was, took - the place of Porthos, the big musketeer; Mr. Blandford was D’Artagnan; Mr. - Henderson was the sleek and slender one (Aramis) whose name Joe could not - remember in his dreams; and even Mr. Pruitt grew into a romantic figure. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—THE CURTAIN FALLS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>omehow, after Joe - Maxwell’s experience with Mr. Deometari, Mr. Blandford, and the rest, - events of importance seemed to follow each other more rapidly. Some of - them were surprising, and all confusing. It was in the month of July that - Atlanta was taken by General Sherman. A few weeks afterward, Harbert, - while cleaning and oiling the old Washington No. 2 hand-press in <i>The - Countryman</i> office, told Joe that the Federal army would come marching - through the county before long. - </p> - <p> - “Who told you?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “De word done come,” replied Harbert “Hit bleeze ter be so, kaze all de - niggers done hear talk un it. We-all will wake up some er deze - odd-come-shorts an’ fin’ de Yankees des a-swarmin’ all ’roun’ here.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do?” Joe inquired, laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you kin laugh, Marse Joe, but deyer comin’. What I g wine do? Well, - suh, I’m gwine ter git up an’ look at um, an’ may be tip my hat ter some - er de big-bugs ’mongst um, an’ den I’m gwine on ’bout my business. I don’t - speck deyer gwine ter bodder folks what don’t bodder dem, is dey?” - </p> - <p> - Joe had forgotten this conversation until it was recalled to his mind one - morning shortly after his night ride to Hillsborough. General Sherman had - swung loose from Atlanta, and was marching down through middle Georgia. - The people that Joe saw went about with anxious faces, and even the - negroes were frightened. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0246.jpg" alt="0246 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0246.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Before this vast host all sorts of rumors fled, carrying fear and - consternation to the peaceful plantations. At last, one cold, drizzly day - in November, Joe Maxwell, trudging along the road on his way to the - printing-office, heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and two horsemen - in blue came galloping along. They reined up their horses, and inquired - the distance to Hillsborough, and then went galloping on again. They were - couriers carrying dispatches from the Twentieth Army Corps to General - Sherman. - </p> - <p> - There was hurrying to and fro on the plantation after this. The horses and - mules were driven to a remote field in which there was a large swamp. Joe - carried Butterfly and tethered him in the very middle of the swamp, where - he could get plenty of water to drink and young cane to eat. During the - next ten hours the plantation, just as Harbert predicted, fairly swarmed - with foraging parties of Federals. Guided by some of the negroes, they - found the horses and mules and other stock and drove them off; and, when - Joe heard of it, he felt like crying over the loss of Butterfly. The horse - did not belong to him, but he had trained it from a colt, and it was his - whenever he wanted to use it, day or night. Yet Butterfly was soon - forgotten in the excitement and confusion created by the foragers, who - swept through the plantations, levying in the name of war on the - live-stock, and ransacking the not too well-filled smoke-houses and barns - in search of supplies. - </p> - <p> - Joe Maxwell saw a good deal of these foragers, and he found them all, with - one exception, to be good-humored. The exception was a German, who could - scarcely speak English enough to make himself understood. This German, - when he came to the store-room where the hats were kept, wanted to take - off as many as his horse could carry, and he became very angry when Joe - protested. He grew so angry, in fact, that he would have fired the - building. He lit a match, drew together a lot of old papers and other - rubbish, and was in the act of firing it, when an officer ran in and gave - him a tremendous paddling with the flat of his sword. It was an exhibition - as funny as a scene in the circus, and Joe enjoyed it as thoroughly as he - could under the circumstances. By night, all the foragers had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0249.jpg" alt="0249 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0249.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The army had gone into camp at Denham’s Mill, and Joe supposed that it - would march on to Hillsborough, but in this he was mistaken. It turned - sharply to the left the next morning and marched toward Milledgeville. Joe - had aimlessly wandered along this road, as he had done a hundred times - before, and finally seated himself on the fence near an old school-house, - and began to whittle on a rail. Before he knew it the troops were upon - him. He kept his seat, and the Twentieth Army Corps, commanded by General - Slocum, passed in review before him. It was an imposing array as to - numbers, but not as to appearance! For once and for all, so far as Joe was - concerned, the glamour and romance of war were dispelled. The skies were - heavy with clouds, and a fine, irritating mist sifted down. The road was - more than ankle-deep in mud, and even the fields were boggy. There was - nothing gay about this vast procession, with its tramping soldiers, its - clattering horsemen, and its lumbering wagons, except the temper of the - men. They splashed through the mud, cracking their jokes and singing - snatches of songs. - </p> - <p> - Joe Maxwell, sitting on the fence, was the subject of many a jest, as the - good-humored men marched by. - </p> - <p> - “Hello, Johnny! Where’s your parasol?” - </p> - <p> - “Jump down, Johnny, and let me kiss you good-by!” - </p> - <p> - “Johnny, if you are tired, get up behind and ride!” - </p> - <p> - “Run and get your trunk, Johnny, and get aboard!” - </p> - <p> - “He’s a bushwhacker, boys. If he bats his eyes, I’m a-goin’ to dodge!” - </p> - <p> - “Where’s the rest of your regiment, Johnny?” - </p> - <p> - “If there was another one of ’em a-settin’ on the fence, on t’other side, - I’d say we was surrounded!” - </p> - <p> - These and hundreds of other comments, exclamations, and questions, Joe was - made the target of; and, if he stood the fire of them with unusual - calmness, it was because this huge panorama seemed to him to be the - outcome of some wild dream. That the Federal army should be plunging - through that peaceful region, after all he had seen in the newspapers - about Confederate victories, seemed to him to be an impossibility. The - voices of the men, and their laughter, sounded vague and insubstantial. It - was surely a dream that had stripped war of its glittering’ trappings and - its flying banners. It was surely the distortion of a dream that tacked on - to this procession of armed men droves of cows, horses, and mules, and - wagon-loads of bateaux! Joe had read of pontoon bridges, but he had never - heard of a pontoon train, nor did he know that bateaux were a part of the - baggage of this invading army. - </p> - <p> - But it all passed after a while, and then Joe discovered that he had not - been dreaming at all. He jumped from the fence and made his way home - through the fields. Never before, since its settlement, had such peace and - quiet reigned on the plantation. The horses and mules were gone, and many - of the negro cabins were empty. Harbert was going about as busy as ever, - and some of the older negroes were in their accustomed places, but the - younger ones, especially those who, by reason of their fieldwork, had not - been on familiar terms with their master and mistress, had followed the - Federal army. Those that remained had been informed by the editor that - they were free; and so it happened, in the twinkling of an eye, that the - old things had passed away and all was new. - </p> - <p> - In a corner of the fence, not far from the road, Joe found an old negro - woman shivering and moaning. Near her lay an old negro man, his shoulders - covered with an old ragged shawl. “Who is that lying there?” asked Joe. - </p> - <p> - “It my ole man, suh.” - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter with him?” - </p> - <p> - “He dead, suh! But, bless God, he died free!” * - </p> - <p> - It was a pitiful sight, and a pitiable ending of the old couple’s dream of - freedom. Harbert and the other negroes buried the old man, and the old - woman was made comfortable in one of the empty cabins; she never ceased to - bless “little marster,” as she called Joe, giving him all the credit for - everything that was done for her. Old as she was, she and her husband had - followed the army for many a weary mile on the road to freedom. The old - man found it in the fence corner, and a few weeks later the old woman - found it in the humble cabin. - </p> - <p> - The next morning, as Joe Maxwell was loitering around the printing-office, - talking to the editor, Butterfly came galloping up, ridden by Mink, who - was no longer a runaway. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - * This incident has had many adaptations. It occurred just - as it is given here, and was published afterward in <i>The - Countryman</i>. -</pre> - <p> - “I seed you put ’im out in de swamp dar, Mars’ Joe, an’ den I seed some er - de yuther niggers gwine dar long wid dem Yankee mens, an’ I say ter myse’f - dat I better go dar an’ git ’im; so I tuck ’im down on de river, an’ here - he is. He mayn’t be ez fatez he wuz, but he des ez game ez he yever is - been.” - </p> - <p> - Joe was pleased, and the editor was pleased; and it happened that Mink - became one of the tenants on the plantation, and after a while he bought a - little farm of his own, and prospered and thrived. - </p> - <p> - But this is carrying a simple chronicle too far. It can not be spun out - here and now so as to show the great changes that have been wrought—the - healing of the wounds of war; the lifting up of a section from ruin and - poverty to prosperity; the molding of the beauty, the courage, the energy, - and the strength of the old civilization into the new; the gradual - uplifting of a lowly race. All these things can not be told of here. The - fire burns low, and the tale is ended. - </p> - <p> - The plantation newspaper was issued a little while longer, but in a land - filled with desolation and despair its editor could not hope to see it - survive. A larger world beckoned to Joe Maxwell, and he went out into it. - And it came about that on every side he found loving hearts to comfort him - and strong and friendly hands to guide him. He found new associations and - formed new ties. In a humble way he made a name for himself, but the old - plantation days still live in his dreams. - </p> - <h3> - THE END. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - -***** This file should be named 50701-h.htm or 50701-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/7/0/50701/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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index daecf50..0000000 --- a/old/50701.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5090 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: On the Plantation - A Story of a Georgia Boy's Adventures during the War - -Author: Joel Chandler Harris - -Illustrator: E. W. Kemble - -Release Date: December 15, 2015 [EBook #50701] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -ON THE PLANTATION - -A Story Of A Georgia Boy's Adventures During The War - -By Joel Chandler Harris - -Author Of Uncle Remus - -With Twenty-Three Illustrations By E. W. Kemble - -New York - -D. Appleton And Company - -1892 - - -JOSEPH ADDISON TURNER - -LAWYER, EDITOR, SCHOLAR, PLANTER, - -AND PHILANTHROPIST THIS MIXTURE - -OF FACT AND FICTION IS INSCRIBED - - - - -INTRODUCTORY NOTE. - - -Some of my friends who have read in serial form the chronicles that -follow profess to find in them something more than an autobiographical -touch. Be it so. It would indeed be difficult to invest the commonplace -character and adventures of Joe Maxwell with the vitality that belongs -to fiction. Nevertheless, the lad himself, and the events which are -herein described, seem to have been born of a dream. That which is -fiction pure and simple in these pages bears to me the stamp of truth, -and that which is true reads like a clumsy invention. In this matter -it is not for me to prompt the reader. He must sift the fact from the -fiction and label it to suit himself. - -J. C. H. - - - - -ON THE PLANTATION. - - - - -CHAPTER I--JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START - - -The post-office in the middle Georgia village of Hillsborough used -to be a queer little place, whatever it is now. It was fitted up in -a cellar; and the postmaster, who was an enterprising gentleman from -Connecticut, had arranged matters so that those who went after their -letters and papers could at the same time get their grocery supplies. - -Over against the wall on one side was a faded green sofa. It was not an -inviting seat, for in some places the springs peeped through, and one of -its legs was broken, giving it a suspicious tilt against the wall. But -a certain little boy found one corner of the rickety old sofa a very -comfortable place, and he used to curl up there nearly every day, -reading such stray newspapers as he could lay hands on, and watching the -people come and go. - -To the little boy the stock of goods displayed for sale was as curious -in its variety as the people who called day after day for the letters -that came or that failed to come. To some dainty persons the mingled -odor of cheese, cam-phene, and mackerel would have been disagreeable; -but Joe Maxwell--that was the name of the little boy--had a healthy -disposition and a strong stomach, and he thought the queer little -post-office was one of the pleasantest places in the world. - -A partition of woodwork and wire netting cut off the post-office and the -little stock of groceries from the public at large, but outside of that -was an area where a good many people could stand and wait for their -letters. In one corner of this area was the rickety green sofa, and -round about were chairs and boxes and barrels on which tired people -could rest themselves. - -The Milledgeville papers had a large circulation in the county. They -were printed at the capital of the State, and were thought to be very -important on that account. They had so many readers in the neighborhood -that the postmaster, in order to save time and trouble, used to pile -them up on a long shelf outside the wooden partition, where each -subscriber could help himself. Joe Maxwell took advantage of this -method, and on Tuesdays, when the Milledgeville papers arrived, he could -always be found curled up in the corner of the old green sofa reading -the _Recorder_ and the _Federal Union_. What he found in those papers to -interest him it would be hard to say. They were full of political essays -that were popular in those days, and they had long reports of political -conventions and meetings from all parts of the State. They were papers -for grown people, and Joe Maxwell was only twelve years old, and small -for his age. - -There was another place that Joe found it pleasant to visit, and that -was a lawyer's office in one of the rooms of the old tavern that looked -out on the pillared veranda. It was a pleasant place to him, not because -it was a law-office, but because it was the office of a gentleman -who was very friendly to the youngster. The gentleman's name was Mr. -Deometari, and Joe called him Mr. Deo, as did the other people of -Hillsborough. He was fat and short and wore whiskers, which gave him a -peculiar appearance at that time. All the rest of the men that Joe knew -wore either a full beard or a mustache and an imperial. For that reason -Mr. Deometari's whiskers were very queer-looking. He was a Greek, and -there was a rumor among the people about town that he had been compelled -to leave his country on account of his politics. Joe never knew until -long afterward that politics could be a crime. He thought that politics -consisted partly in newspaper articles signed "Old Subscriber" and "Many -Citizens" and "Vox Populi" and "Scrutator," and partly in arguments -between the men who sat in fine weather on the dry-goods boxes under the -china-trees. But there was a mystery about Mr. Deometari, and it pleased -the lad to imagine all sorts of romantic stories about the fat lawyer. -Although Mr. Deometari was a Greek, there was no foreign twang to his -tongue. Only as close an observer as the boy could have told from his -talk that he was a foreigner. He was a good lawyer and a good speaker, -and all the other lawyers seemed to like him. They enjoyed his company -so well that it was only occasionally that Joe found him in his office -alone. - -[Illustration: 0026] - -Once Mr. Deometari took from his closet a military uniform and put it -on. Joe Maxwell thought it was the most beautiful uniform he had ever -seen. Gold braid ran down the sides of the trousers, gold cords hung -loosely on the breast of the coat, and a pair of tremendous epaulets -surmounted the shoulders. The hat was something like the hats Joe had -seen in picture-books. It was caught up at the sides with little -gold buttons, and trimmed with a long black feather that shone like a -pigeon's breast. Fat as Mr. Deometari was, the lad thought he looked -very handsome in his fine uniform. This was only one incident. In his -room, which was a large one, Mr. Deometari had boxes packed with books, -and he gave Joe leave to ransack them. Many of the volumes were in -strange tongues, but among them were some quaint old English books, -and these the lad relished beyond measure. After a while Mr. Deometari -closed his office and went away to the war. - -It would not be fair to say that Joe was a studious lad. On the -contrary, he was of an adventurous turn of mind, and he was not at all -fond of the books that were in his desk at Hillsborough Academy. He was -full of all sorts of pranks and capers, and there were plenty of people -in the little town ready to declare that he would come to some bad end -if he was not more frequently dosed with what the old folks used to call -hickory oil. Some of Joe Maxwell's pranks were commonplace, but others -were ingenious enough to give him quite a reputation for humor, and -one prank in particular is talked of by the middle-aged people of -Hillsborough to this day. - -The teacher of the academy had organized a military company among the -pupils--it was just about the time when rumors and hints of war had -begun to take shape--and a good deal of interest was felt in the -organization, especially by the older boys. Of this company Joe Maxwell -was the fourth corporal, a position which gave him a place at the foot -of the company. The Hillsborough Cadets drilled every school-day, and -sometimes on Saturdays, and they soon grew to be very proud of their -proficiency. - -At last, after a good deal of manoeuvring on the playgrounds and in the -public square, the teacher, who was the captain, concluded that the boys -had earned a vacation, and it was decided that the company should go -into camp for a week on the Oconee River, and fish and hunt and have a -good time generally. The boys fairly went wild when the announcement was -made, and some of them wanted to hug the teacher, who had hard work to -explain that an attempt of this sort was not in accord with military -tactics or discipline. - -All the arrangements were duly made. Tents were borrowed from the -Hillsborough Rifles, and the drum corps of that company was hired to -make music. A half-dozen wagons carried the camp outfit and the small -boys, while the larger ones marched. It was an entirely new experience -for Joe Maxwell, and he enjoyed it as only a healthy and high-spirited -boy could enjoy it. The formal and solemn way in which the guard was -mounted was very funny to him, and the temptation to make a joke of it -was too strong to be resisted. - -The tents were pitched facing each other, with the officers' tent at the -head of the line thus formed. At the other end of the lane and a little -to the rear was the baggage-tent, in which the trunks, boxes, and -commissaries were stored. Outside of all, the four sentinels marched -up and down. The tents were pitched in an old field that was used as -a pasture, and Joe noticed during the afternoon two mules and a horse -browsing around. He noticed, too, that these animals were very much -disturbed, especially when the drums began to beat, and that their -curiosity would not permit them to get very far from the camp, no matter -how frightened they were. - -It happened that one of Joe's messmates was to go on guard duty at -twelve o'clock that night. He was a fat, awkward, good-natured fellow, -this messmate, and a heavy sleeper, too, so that, when the corporal -of the guard undertook to arouse him, all the boys in the tent -were awakened. All except Joe quickly went to sleep again, but this -enterprising youngster quietly put on his clothes, and, in the confusion -of changing the guard, slipped out of the lines and hid in a convenient -gully not far from the camp. - -It was his intention to worry if not to frighten his messmate, and while -he lay there trying to think out the best plan to pursue, he heard the -horse and mules trampling and snorting not very far off. Their curiosity -was not yet satisfied, and they seemed to be making their way toward the -camp for the purpose of reconnoitering. - -Joe's mind was made up in an instant. - -He slipped down the gully until the animals were between him and the -camp, and then, seizing a large pine brush that happened to be lying -near, he sprang toward them. The mules and horse were ripe for a -stampede. The camp itself was an object of suspicion, and this attack -from an unexpected quarter was too much for them. Snorting with terror -they rushed in the direction of the tents. The sleepy sentinel, hearing -them coming, fired his gun in the air and ran yelling into the camp, -followed by the horse and one of the mules. The other mule shied to the -right when the gun was fired, and ran into the baggage-tent. There was -a tremendous rattle and clatter of boxes, pots, pans, and crockery ware. -The mule, crazed with fright, made a violent effort to get through the -tent, but it caught him in some way. Finally, the ropes that held it -down gave way, and the mule, with the tent flapping and flopping on his -back, turned and rushed through the camp. To all but Joe Maxwell it was -a horrifying sight. Many of the boys, as the saying is, "took to -the woods," and some of them were prostrated with fright. These were -consequences that Joe had not counted on, and it was a long time before -he confessed to his share in the night's sport. The results reached -further than the camp. In another part of the plantation the negroes -were holding a revival meeting in the open air, preaching and shouting -and singing. Toward this familiar scene the mule made his way, -squealing, braying, and kicking, the big white tent flopping on his -back. As the terrified animal circled around the place, the negroes -cried out that Satan had come, and the panic that ensued among them is -not easily described. Many thought that the apparition was the ushering -in of the judgment-day, while by far the greater number firmly believed -that the "Old Boy" himself was after them. The uproar they made could -be plainly heard at the camp, more than a mile away--shrieks, screams, -yells, and cries for mercy. After it was all over, and Joe Maxwell had -crept quietly to bed, the thought came to him that it was not such a -fine joke, after all, and he lay awake a long time repenting the night's -work. He heard the next day that nobody had been hurt and that no -serious damage had been done, but it was many weeks before he forgave -himself for his thoughtless prank. - -Although Joe was fond of fun, and had a great desire to be a clown in a -circus or to be the driver of a stage-coach--just such a red and yellow -coach, with "U. S. M." painted on its doors, as used to carry passengers -and the mails between Hillsborough and Rockville--he never permitted -his mind to dwell on these things. He knew very well that the time would -soon come when he would have to support his mother and himself. This -thought used to come to him again and again when he was sitting in the -little post-office, reading the Milledgeville papers. - -It so happened that these papers grew very interesting to both old and -young as the days went by. The rumors of war had developed into war -itself. In the course of a few months two companies of volunteers had -gone to Virginia from Hillsborough, and the little town seemed to be -lonelier and more deserted than ever. Joe Maxwell noticed, as he sat in -the post-office, that only a very few old men and ladies came after the -letters and papers, and he missed a great many faces that used to -smile at him as he sat reading, and some of them he never saw again. He -noticed, too, that when there had been a battle or a skirmish the ladies -and young girls came to the post-office more frequently. When the news -was very important, one of the best-known citizens would mount a chair -or a dry-goods box and read the telegrams aloud to the waiting and -anxious group of people, and sometimes the hands and the voice of the -reader trembled. - -One day while Joe Maxwell was sitting in the post-office looking -over the Milledgeville papers, his eye fell on an advertisement that -interested him greatly. It seemed to bring the whole world nearer to -him. The advertisement set forth the fact that on next Tuesday the first -number of _The Countryman_, a weekly paper would be published. It -would be modeled after Mr. Addison's little paper, the _Spectator_, Mr. -Goldsmith's little paper, the _Bee_, and Mr. Johnson's little paper, the -_Rambler_. It would be edited by J. A. Turner, and it would be issued -on the plantation of the editor, nine miles from Hillsborough. Joe read -this advertisement over a dozen times, and it was with a great deal of -impatience that he waited for the next Tuesday to come. - -But the day did come, and with it came the first issue of _The -Countryman_. Joe read it from beginning to end, advertisements and all, -and he thought it was the most entertaining little paper he had ever -seen. Among the interesting things was an announcement by the editor -that he wanted a boy to learn the printing business. Joe borrowed pen -and ink and some paper from the friendly postmaster, and wrote a letter -to the editor, saying that he would be glad to learn the printing -business. The letter was no doubt an awkward one, but it served its -purpose, for when the editor of _The Countryman_ came to Hillsborough -he hunted Joe up, and told him to get ready to go to the plantation. The -lad, not without some misgivings, put away his tops and marbles, packed -his little belongings in an old-fashioned trunk, kissed his mother and -his grandmother good-by, and set forth on what, turned out to be the -most important journey of his life. - -Sitting in the buggy by the side of the editor and publisher of _The -Countryman_, Joe Maxwell felt lonely indeed, and this feeling was -increased as he went through the little town and heard his schoolmates, -who were at their marbles on the public square, bidding him good-by. - -He could hardly keep back his tears at this, but, on looking around -after the buggy had gone a little way, he saw his friends had returned -to their marbles, and the thought struck him that he was already -forgotten. Many and many a time after that he thought of his little -companions and how quickly they had returned to their marbles. - -The editor of _The Countryman_ must have divined what was passing in -the lad's mind (he was a quick-witted man and a clever one, too), for he -tried to engage in conversation with Joe. But the boy preferred to nurse -his loneliness, and would only talk when he was compelled to answer a -question. Finally, the editor asked him if he would drive, and this Joe -was glad enough to do, for there is some diversion in holding the reins -over a spirited horse. The editor's horse was a large gray, named Ben -Bolt, and he was finer than any of the horses that Joe had seen at the -livery-stable. Feeling a new and an unaccustomed touch on the reins, Ben -Bolt made an effort to give a new meaning to his name by bolting sure -enough. The road was level and hard, and the horse ran rapidly for a -little distance; but Joe Maxwell's arms were tough, and before the horse -had gone a quarter of a mile the lad had him completely under control. - -"You did that very well," said the editor, who was familiar with Ben -Bolt's tricks. "I didn't know that little boys in town could drive -horses." - -"Oh, sometimes they can," replied Joe. "If he had been scared, I think -I should have been scared myself; but he was only playing. He has been -tied at the rack all day, and he must be hungry." - -"Yes," said the editor, "he is hungry, and he wants to see his mate, Rob -Roy." - -Then the editor, in a fanciful way, went on to talk about Ben Bolt and -Rob Roy, as if they were persons instead of horses; but it did not seem -fanciful to Joe, who had a strange sympathy with animals of all kinds, -especially horses and dogs. It pleased him greatly to think that he had -ideas in common with a grown man, who knew how to write for the papers; -and if the editor was talking to make Joe forget his loneliness he -succeeded admirably, for the lad thought no more of the boys who had so -quickly returned to their marbles, but only of his mother, whom he had -last seen standing at the little gate smiling at him through her tears. - -As they drove along the editor pointed out a little log-cabin near the -road. - -"That," said he, "is where the high sheriff of the county lives. Do you -know Colonel John B. Stith?" - -"Yes," Joe replied; "but I thought he lived in a large, fine house. I -don't see how he can get in at that door yonder." - -"What makes you think he is too big for the door?" asked the editor. - -"Why, the way he goes on," said Joe, with the bluntness of youth. "He is -always in town talking politics, and he talks bigger than anybody." - -[Illustration: 0038] - -"Well," said the editor, laughing, "that is his house. When you get a -little older you'll find people who are more disappointing than the high -sheriff. Boys are sometimes too big for their breeches, I've heard said, -but this is the first time I ever heard that a man could be too big for -his house. That is a good one on the colonel." - -Ben Bolt trotted along steadily and rapidly, but after a while dusk -fell, and then the stars came out. Joe peered ahead, trying to make out -the road. - -"Just let the horse have his way," said the editor. "He knows the road -better than I do"; and it seemed to be so, for, when heavy clouds from -the west came up and hid the stars, and only the darkness was visible, -Ben Bolt trotted along as steadily as ever. He splashed through Crooked -Creek, walked up the long hill, and then started forward more rapidly -than ever. - -"It is a level road, now," the editor remarked, "and Ben Bolt is on the -home-stretch." - -In a little while he stopped before a large gate. It was opened in a -jiffy by some one who seemed to be waiting. - -"Is that you, Harbert?" asked the editor. - -"Yes, marster." - -"Well, I want you to take Mr. Maxwell here to Mr. Snelson's." - -"Yasser," responded the negro. - -"Snelson is the foreman of the printing-office," the editor explained to -Joe, "and for the present you are to board with him. I hope he will make -things pleasant for you. Goodnight." - -To the lonely lad it seemed a long journey to Mr. Sneison's--through -wide plantation gates, down narrow lanes, along a bit of public road, -and then a plunge into the depths of a great wood, where presently a -light gleamed through. - -"I'll hail 'em," said Harbert, and he sent before him into the darkness -a musical halloo, whereupon, as promptly as its echo, came a hearty -response from the house, with just the faintest touch of the Irish -brogue in the voice. - -"Ah, and it's the young man! Jump right down and come in to the warmth -of the fire. There's something hot on the hearth, where it's waiting -you." - -And so Joe Maxwell entered on a new life--a life as different as -possible from that which he had left behind in Hillsborough. - - - - -CHAPTER II--A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER - - -The printing-office was a greater revelation to Joe Maxwell than it -would be to any of the youngsters who may happen to read this. It was -a very small affair; the type was old and worn, and the hand-press--a -Washington No. 2--had seen considerable service. But it was all new to -Joe, and the fact that he was to become a part of the machinery aroused -in his mind the most delightful sensation. He quickly mastered the boxes -of the printer's case, and before many days was able to set type swiftly -enough to be of considerable help to Mr. Snel-son, who was foreman, -compositor, and pressman. - -The one queer feature about _The Countryman_ was the fact that it was -the only plantation newspaper that has ever been published, the nearest -post-office being nine miles away. It might be supposed that such a -newspaper would be a failure; but _The Countryman_ was a success from -the start, and at one time it reached a circulation of nearly two -thousand copies. The editor was a very original writer, and his -editorials in _The Countryman_ were quoted in all the papers in -the Confederacy, but he was happiest when engaged in a political -controversy. Another feature of _The Countryman_ was the fact that there -was never any lack of copy for the foreman and the apprentice to set. -Instead of clipping from his exchanges, the editor sent to the office -three books, from which extracts could be selected. These books were -_Lacon_, Percy's _Anecdotes_, and Rochefoucauld's _Maxims_. Then -there were weekly letters from the army in Virginia and voluntary -contributions from many ambitious writers. Some of the war -correspondence was very gloomy, for as the months wore on it told of the -death of a great many young men whom Joe had known, and the most of them -had been very kind to him. - -The days in the printing-office would have been very lonely for Joe, but -the grove that surrounded it was full of gray squirrels. These had been -so long undisturbed that they were comparatively tame. They were in -the habit of running about over the roof of the office and playing at -hide-and-seek like little children. To the roof, too, the blue-jays -would bring their acorns and hammer at the hard shells in the noisiest -way, and once a red fox made bold to venture near Joe's window, where -he stood listening and sniffing the air until some noise caused him to -vanish like a flash. Most interesting of all, a partridge and her mate -built their nest within a few feet of the window, and it often happened -that Joe neglected his work in watching the birds. They bent the long -grass over from each side carefully until they had formed a little -tunnel three or four feet long. When this was done, Mrs. Partridge made -her way to the end of it and began to scratch and flutter just as a hen -does when taking a dust-bath. She was hollowing out her nest. By the -time the nest was completed the archway of grass that had hid it was -considerably disarranged. Then Mrs. Partridge sat quietly on the little -hollow she had made, while Mr. Partridge rebuilt the archway over her -until she was completely concealed. He was very careful about this. -Frequently he would walk off a little way and turn and look at the nest. -If his sharp eyes could see anything suspicious, he would return -and weave the grass more closely together. Finally, he seemed to be -satisfied with his work. He shook his wings and began to preen himself, -and then Mrs. Partridge came out and joined him. They consulted together -with queer little duckings, and finally ran off into the undergrowth as -if bent on a frolic. - -The work of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge was so well done that Joe found it -very difficult to discover the nest when he went out of the office. He -knew where it was from his window, but when he came to look for it out -of doors it seemed to have disappeared, so deftly was it concealed; and -he would have been compelled to hunt for it very carefully but for the -fact that when Mrs. Partridge found herself disturbed she rushed from -the little grass tunnel and threw herself at Joe's feet, fluttering -around as if desperately wounded, and uttering strange little cries of -distress. Once she actually touched his feet with her wings, but when he -stooped to pick her up she managed to flutter off just out of reach -of his hand. Joe followed along after Mrs. Partridge for some little -distance, and he discovered that the farther she led him away from her -nest the more her condition improved, until finally she ran off into the -sedge and disappeared. Joe has never been able to find any one to tell -him how Mrs. Partridge knew what kind of antics a badly wounded bird -would cut up. He has been told that it is the result of instinct. The -scientists say, however, that instinct is the outgrowth of necessity; -but it seems hard to believe that necessity could have given Mrs. -Partridge such accurate knowledge of the movements of a wounded bird. - -In carrying proofs from the printing-office to the editor, Joe Maxwell -made two discoveries that he considered very important. One was that -there was a big library of the best books at his command, and the other -was that there was a pack of well-trained harriers on the plantation. -He loved books and he loved dogs, and if he had been asked to choose -between the library and the harriers he would have hesitated a long -time. The books were more numerous--there were nearly two thousand of -them, while there were only five harriers--but in a good many respects -the dogs were the liveliest. Fortunately, Joe was not called on to make -any choice. He had the dogs to himself in the late afternoon and the -books at night, and he made the most of both. More than this, he had -the benefit of the culture of the editor of _The Countryman_ and of the -worldly experience of Mr. Snelson, the printer. - -To Joe Maxwell, sadly lacking in knowledge of mankind, Mr. Snelson -seemed to be the most engaging of men. He was the echo and mouthpiece of -a world the youngster had heard of but never seen, and it pleased him -to hear the genial printer rehearse his experiences, ranging all the way -from Belfast, Ireland, where he was born, to all the nooks and corners -of the United States, including the little settlement where the -plantation newspaper was published. Mr. Snelson had been a tramp and -almost a tragedian, and he was pleased on many occasions to give his -little apprentice a taste of his dramatic art. He would stuff a pillow -under his coat and give readings from Richard III, or wrap his wife's -mantilla about him and play Hamlet. - -[Illustration: 0047] - -When tired of the stage he would clear his throat and render some of the -old ballads, which he sang very sweetly indeed. - -One night, after the little domestic concert was over and Joe was -reading a book by the light of the pine-knot fire, a great fuss was -heard in the hen-house, which was some distance from the dwelling. - -"Run, John," exclaimed Mrs. Snelson; "I just know somebody is stealing -my dominicker hen and her chickens. Run!" - -"Let the lad go," said Mr. Snelson, amiably. "He's young and nimble, -and whoever's there he'll catch 'em.--Run, lad! and if ye need help, lift -your voice and I'll be wit' ye directly." - -The dwelling occupied by Mr. Snelson was in the middle of a thick wood, -and at night, when there was no moon, it was very dark out of doors; but -Joe Maxwell was not afraid of the dark. He leaped from the door and -had reached the hen-house before the chickens ceased cackling and -fluttering. It was too dark to see anything, but Joe, in groping his way -around, laid his hand on Somebody. - -His sensations would be hard to describe. His heart seemed to jump into -his mouth, and he felt a thrill run over him from head to foot. It was -not fear, for he did not turn and flee. He placed his hand again on the -Somebody and asked: - -"Who are you?" - -Whatever it was trembled most violently and the reply came in a weak, -shaking voice and in the shape of another question: - -"Is dis de little marster what come fum town ter work in de paper -office?" - -"Yes; who are you, and what are you doing here?" - -"I'm name Mink, suh, an' I b'longs to Marse Tom Gaither. I bin run'd -away an' I got dat hongry dat it look like I bleedz ter ketch me a -chicken. I bin mighty nigh famished, suh. I wish you'd please, suh, -excusen me dis time." - -"Why didn't you break and run when you heard me coming?" asked Joe, who -was disposed to take a practical view of the matter. - -"You wuz dat light-footed, suh, dat I ain't hear you, an' sides dat, I -got my han' kotch in dish yer crack, an' you wuz right on top er me 'fo' -I kin work it out." - -"Why don't you stay at home?" asked Joe. - -"Dey don't treat me right, suh," said the negro, simply. The very tone -of his voice was more convincing than any argument could have been. - -"Can you get your hand out of the crack?" asked Joe. - -"Lord, yes, suh; I'd'a done got it out fo' now, but when you lipt on me -so quick all my senses wuz skeered out'n me." - -"Well," said Joe, "get your hand out and stay here till I come back, and -I'll fetch you something to eat." - -"You ain't foolin' me, is you, little marster?" - -"Do I look like I'd fool you?" said Joe, scornfully. - -"I can't see you plain, suh," said the negro, drawing a long breath, -"but you don't talk like it." - -"Well, get your hand loose and wait." - -As Joe turned to go to the house, he saw Mr. Snelson standing in the -door. - -"It's all right, sir," the youngster said. "None of the chickens are -gone." - -"A great deal of fuss and no feathers," said Mr. Snelson. "I doubt but -it was a mink." - -"Yes," said Joe, laughing. "It must have been a Mink, and I'm going to -set a bait for him." - -"In all this dark?" asked the printer. "Why, I could stand in the door -and crush it wit' me teeth." - -"Why, yes," replied Joe. "I'll take some biscuit and a piece of corn -bread, and scatter them around the hen-house, and if the mink comes back -he'll get the bread and leave the chickens alone." - -"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, slapping Joe on the back. "I says to -mother here, says I, 'As sure as you're born to die, old woman, that -B'y has got the stuff in 'im that they make men out of.' I said them very -words. Now didn't I, mother?" - -Joe got three biscuits and a pone of cornbread and carried them to Mink. -The negro had freed his hand, and he loomed up in the darkness as tall -as a giant. - -"Why, you seem to be as big as a horse," said Joe. - -"Thanky, little marster, thanky. Yes, suh, I'm a mighty stout nigger, -an' ef marster would des make dat overseer lemme 'lone I'd do some -mighty good work, an' I'd a heap druther do it dan ter be hidin' out in -de swamp dis away like some wil' varmint. Good-night, little marster." - -[Illustration: 0052] - -"Good-night!" said Joe. - -"God bless you, little marster!" cried Mink, as he vanished in the -darkness. - -That night in Joe Maxwell's dreams the voice of the fugitive came back -to him, crying, "God bless you, little marster!" - -But it was not in dreams alone that Mink came back to Joe. In more than -one way the negro played an important part in the lad's life on the -plantation. One evening about dusk, as Joe was going home, taking a -"near cut" through the Bermuda pasture, a tall form loomed up before -him, outlining itself against the sky. - -"Howdy, little marster!'Tain't nobody but Mink. I des come ter tell you -dat ef you want anything out'n de woods des sen' me word by Harbert. I -got some pa'tridge-eggs here now. Deyer tied up in a rag, but dat don't -hurt um. Ef you'll des spread out yo' hank'cher I'll put um in it." - -"Haven't you gone home yet?" asked Joe, as he held out his handkerchief. - -"Lord, no, suh!" exclaimed the negro. "De boys say dat de overseer say -he waitin' fer Mink wid a club." - -There were four dozen of these eggs, and Joe and Mr. Snelson enjoyed -them hugely. - -From that time forward, in one way and another, Joe Maxwell kept in -communication with Mink. The lad was not too young to observe that the -negroes on the plantation treated him with more consideration than they -showed to other white people with the exception of their master. There -was nothing they were not ready to do for him at any time of day or -night. The secret of it was explained by Har-bert, the man-of-all-work -around the "big house." - -"Marse Joe," said Harbert one day, "I wuz gwine'long de road de udder -night an' I met a great big nigger man. Dish yer nigger man took an' -stop me, he did, an' he'low, 'Dey's a little white boy on y o' place -which I want you fer ter keep yo' two eyes on 'im, an' when he say come, -you come, an' when he say go, you go.' I'low, ''hey, big nigger man! -what de matter?' an' he 'spon' back, 'I done tole you, an' I ain't -gwine tell you no mo'. So dar you got it, Marse Joe, an' dat de way it -stan's." - -And so it happened that, humble as these negroes were, they had it in -their power to smooth many a rough place in Joe Maxwell's life. The -negro women looked after him with almost motherly care, and pursued -him with kindness, while the men were always ready to contribute to his -pleasure. - - - - -CHAPTER III--TRACKING A RUNAWAY - - -One Sunday morning, not long after Joe's adventure with Mink, Harbert -came to him with a serious face. - -"Marse Joe," he said, "dey er gwine ter ketch Mink dis time." - -"How do you know?" - -"Kaze, soon dis mornin' whiles I wuz a-feed-in' de hogs, I seed one er -dem Gaither boys cornin' down de road under whip an' spur, an' I ax 'im -wharbouts he gwine, an' he say he gwine atter Bill Locke an' his nigger -dogs. He 'low dat he know whar Mink bin las' Friday night, an' dey gwine -ter put de dogs on his track an' ketch 'im. Dey'll be'long back dis a way -terreckly." - -The lad had witnessed many a fox-chase and had hunted rabbits hundreds -of times, not only with the plantation harriers but with hounds; but he -had never seen a runaway negro hunted down, and he had a boy's curiosity -in the matter, as well as a personal interest in the fate of Mink. So he -mounted his horse and waited for Mr. Locke and young Gaither to return. -He knew Bill Locke well, having seen him often in Hillsborough. Mr. -Locke had been an overseer, but he saved money, bought two or three -negroes, and had a little farm of his own. He had a great reputation as -a negro-hunter, mainly because the hunting of runaways was a part of -his business. His two dogs, Music and Sound, were known all over the -country, and they were the terror of the negroes, not because they were -fierce or dangerous, but because of their sagacity. Sound was a small -brown hound, not larger than a beagle, but he had such powers of scent -that the negroes regarded him with superstitious awe. He had what is -called a "cold nose," which is a short way of saying that he -could follow a scent thirty-six hours old, and yet he was a very -shabby-looking dog. - -When Locke and young Gaither rode by they were joined by Joe Maxwell, -and his company seemed to be very welcome, especially to the Gaither -boy, who regarded the affair as a frolic. Mr. Locke was a man of very -few words. His face was dark and sallow and his eyes sunken. His -neck was long and thin, and Joe observed that his "Adam's apple" was -unusually large. As the negroes said, Mr. Locke and his dogs "favored" -each other. He was small and puny, and his dogs were small and scrawny. - -"Do you think you'll catch Mink?" asked Joe. Mr Locke looked at the lad -almost pityingly, and smiled. - -"We'll git the nigger," he replied, "if he's been seed sence Friday -noon. We'll git him if he ain't took wings. All I ast of him is to stay -somewheres on top of the ground, and he's mine." - -"Why did the negro run away?" said Joe to young Gaither. - -"Oh, he can't get along with the overseer. And I don't blame him much. -I told pap this morning that if I had to choose between Mink and Bill -Davidson I'd take Mink every time. But the trouble with pap is he's -getting old, and thinks he can't get along without an overseer, and -overseers are mighty hard to get now. I tell you right now that when I -get grown I'm not going to let any overseer bang my niggers around." - -Mr. Locke said nothing, but Joe heartily indorsed young Gaither's -sentiments. - -When they arrived at the Gaither place, Mr. Locke asked to be shown the -house that Mink had occupied. Then he asked for the blankets on which -the negro had slept. These could not be found. Well, an old coat would -do--anything that the negro had worn or touched. Finally, a dirty, -greasy bag, in which Mink had carried his dinner to the field, was -found. This would do, Mr. Locke said, and, taking it in his hand, he -called his dogs and held it toward them. Sound smelled it more carefully -than Music. - -"Now, then," said Mr. Locke, "where'bouts was he seed? At the hog-pen -last Friday night? All right, we'll ride around there and kinder send -him a message." - -Joe was very much interested in all this, and he watched Mr. Locke -and his dogs very closely. When they arrived at the hog-pen, the negro -hunter dismounted and examined the ground. Then he spoke to his dogs. - -"Sound!" he exclaimed, sharply, "what are you doing? Look about.--Music! -what are you here for?" - -The shabby little dog seemed to be suddenly transformed. He circled -around the hogpen rapidly, getting farther and farther away each time. -Mr. Locke never took his eyes from the dog. - -"It's cold--mighty cold," he said, presently. Then he spoke to the dog -again. "Sound! come here, sir! Now git down to your knitting! Come, -knuckle down! Try 'em, old fellow! try 'em!" - -Thus encouraged, the dog, with his nose to the ground, went carefully -around the hog-pen. At one spot he paused, went on, and then came back -to it. This performance he repeated several times, and then began to -work his way toward an old field, going very slowly and carefully. - -"Well, sir," said Mr. Locke, heaving a sigh of relief, "I thought it was -a gone case, but the nigger's been here, and we've got him." - -"May be the dog is trailing somebody else," Joe Maxwell suggested. - -Mr. Locke laughed softly and pityingly. "Why, I tell you what, buddy," -he exclaimed, "if all the niggers in the country had tramped around here -that dog wouldn't track none of 'em but the special nigger we're after. -Look at that puppy, how he's working!" - -And truly it was an interesting if not a beautiful sight to see the -dog untangling the tangle of scent. More than once he seemed to be -dissatisfied with himself and made little excursions in search of a -fresher clew, but he always returned to the point where he had left off, -taking up the faint thread of scent and carrying it farther away from -the hog-pen. The patience and industry of the dog were marvelous. Mr. -Locke himself was patient. He encouraged the hound with his voice, but -made no effort to urge him on. - -"It's colder than a gravestone," said Mr. Locke, finally. "It's been a -long time sence that nigger stepped around here. And the ground's -high and dry. If we can work the trail to the branch yonder, he's our -meat.--Try for 'im, Sound! Try for 'im." - -Gradually the dog worked out the problem of the trail. Across the hill -he went, with many turnings and twistings, until finally he struck -into the path that led from the negro quarters to the spring where the -washing was done. Down this path the hound ran without deigning to put -his nose to the ground. At the branch he lapped his fill of water, and -then took up his problem again. A half-dozen wash-pots were scattered -around, and under the largest a fire was smoldering. On a bench, side -by side, three tubs were sitting, and it was at this bench that Sound -picked up the trail again. Evidently Mink had paused to chat with the -woman who was washing. The ground was moist, and the dog had little -trouble. As he recovered the trail he expressed his gratification by -a little whimper. The trail led down the spring branch and into a -plantation road, then over a fence and across a "new ground" until it -struck a bypath that led to an arbor near a church, where the negroes -had been holding a revival meeting. At this point there was another -problem for the dog. A hundred or two negroes had been gathered here, -and it was evident that Mink had been one of the crowd, mingling with -the others and walking about with them. - -Young Gaither called Mr. Locke's attention to this. "You'll never get -the trail away from here in the world," said he. "Why don't you take the -dog and circle round with him?" - -"That dog," said Mr. Locke, watching the hound anxiously, "has got -notions of his own, and he's bound to carry 'em out. He won't be fooled -with. Don't say nothing. Just stand off and watch him. He's been in -worse places than this here." - -But it was a tedious task the dog had before him. Winding in and out in -the mazes of an invisible labyrinth, turning and twisting, now slowly, -now more rapidly, he pursued with unerring nose the footsteps of the -runaway, and when he had followed the trail away from the church he -was going at a brisk pace, and his whimper had changed to an occasional -yelp. Mr. Locke, who up to this time had been leading his horse, now -took off his coat, folded it carefully, and laid it on his saddle. Then -he remounted his horse, and with Gaither and Joe Maxwell trotted along -after his dog. - -Mink must have lingered on the way, for a quarter of a mile farther on -Music joined Sound in his work, and the two dogs footed it along right -merrily, their mellow voices rousing a hundred echoes among the old red -hills. - -A mile farther the dogs paused at a tree where there were traces of -fire. Scattered around were scraps of sweet-potato peelings and bread. - -"Here is where the gentleman roosted last night," said Mr. Locke; and -it must have been true, for Sound, with his head in the air, made a half -circle, picked up a warmer trail, and the two dogs were off like the -wind. Joe Maxwell became very much interested. The horse he was riding -was swift and game, and he drew away from the others easily. Neither -ditches nor gullies were in his way, and in the excitement a six-rail -fence seemed to be no obstacle. Mr. Locke shouted something at Joe, -probably some word of warning, but the meaning failed to reach the lad's -ears. Butterfly fought for his head and got it, and in the twinkling of -an eye carried his rider out of hearing of his companions. - -The dogs had swerved a little to the left, and were making straight for -the river--the Oconee. Butterfly ran into a plantation road and would -have crossed it, but Joe held him to it, and soon discovered that he was -gaining on the dogs. From slightly different directions the hounds and -the horse seemed to be making for the same point--and this point, as -it turned out, was the plantation ferry, where a bateau was kept. Joe -Maxwell reached the top of the hill overlooking the river just as the -dogs reached the ferry. Here he drew rein and looked about him. The -hounds ran about on the river-bank barking and howling. Sound went -into the water, but, finding that he was drifting down instead of going -across, he made his way out and shook himself, but still continued to -bark. A quarter of a mile away there was a great bend in the river. Far -down this bend Joe could see a bateau drifting. As he watched it the -thought struck him that it did not sit as lightly in the water as an -empty boat should. "Suppose," he asked himself, with a laugh--"suppose -Mink is in the bottom of that bateau?" - -He dismissed the thought as Mr. Locke and young Gaither came up. - -"That's a thundering slick hoss you're riding," said Mr. Locke. "He'd do -fine work in a fox-hunt. Where's the nigger?" - -"The dogs can tell you more about it than I can," said Joe. - -"Well," remarked Mr. Locke, with a sigh, - -"I know'd I'd miss him if he ever got to the ferry here and found the -boat on this side. Why, dang his black skin!" exclaimed the negro-hunter -vehemently, as he glanced down the river and saw the bateau floating -away in the distance, "he's gone and turned the boat loose! That shows -we was a-pushin' 'im mighty close. I reckon you could a' seed 'im if -you'd looked clos't when you first come up." - -"No," replied Joe; "he was out of sight, and the boat was drifting -around the elbow. You were not more than five minutes behind me." - -"Bless your soul, buddy," exclaimed Mr. Locke, "five minutes is a mighty -long time when you are trying to ketch a runaway." - -So ended the race after Mink. To Joe Maxwell it was both interesting and -instructive. He was a great lover of dogs, and the wonderful performance -of Sound had given him new ideas of their sagacity. - -A few mornings after the unsuccessful attempt to catch Mink, a very -queer thing happened. Harbert was sweeping out the printing-office, -picking up the type that had been dropped on the floor, and Joe was -preparing to begin the day's work. Suddenly Harbert spoke: - -"Marse Joe," said he, "when you rid out ter de river Sunday, is you -happen ter see er bateau floatin' 'roun'?" - -Joe looked at Harbert for some explanation of the singular question, but -the negro pretended to be very busily engaged in picking up scraps of -paper. - -"Yes," said Joe, after a pause, "I saw a boat drifting down the river. -What about it?" - -"Well, suh, I speck ef de trufe waz ter git out, dat dey wuz one er yo' -ole 'quaintance in dat boat, an' I bet a thrip dat ef you'd a-hollered -howdy, dey'd a-hollered howdy back." - -Harbert was still too busy to look up. - -"Hit de funniest boat what I yever come 'cross," he went on, "agwine -floatin' long down by itse'f, an' den, on top er dat, come floatin' long -back agin." - -"How do you know about the bateau?" - -"Whiles you bin gwine'long de road, Marse Joe," said Harbert, still -making a great pretense of gathering up the trash in the room, "ain't -you never is see all dem little birds flyin' 'mongst de bushes an' 'long -de fence? Well, suh, dem little birds kin tell mo' tales ef you listen -at 'em right close dan all deze yer papers what you bin printin'. Dey er -mighty cu'us, an' dey er mighty cunnin'. Dey tole me lots mo' dan -dat. Dey say dat de young Gaither boy took an' sont word ter Marse Tom -Clemmons dat somebody done gone an' stole de bateau at de ferry, but yit -when Marse Tom go out fer ter look atter his boat dar she is right spang -whar he lef' 'er. Now, how you 'count fer dat?" - -"Then, Mink--" - -"Coon an' 'possum!" interrupted Harbert, as Mr. Snelson appeared in the -doorway. - -"'Possum it is!" exclaimed that genial gentleman. "In season or out of -season, I'll never refuse it." - -"Well, suh," said Harbert, "ef de talk gwine ter fall on 'possum, I'm -bleeds ter go, kase when I hear folks talkin' 'bout'possum hit make me -dribble at de mouf." The negro went off laughing loudly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--SHADOWS OF THE WAR - - -What with the books in the library and the life out of doors in the -afternoons, Joe Maxwell grew very fond of his new home. His work at the -printers' case was not a task, but a pleasure. He grew to be an expert -in type-setting and won unstinted praise from Mr. Snelson. Sometimes he -wrote little paragraphs of his own, crediting them to "The Countryman's -Devil," and the editor was kind enough to make no objection, and -this fact was very encouraging to the lad, who was naturally shy and -sensitive. - -Only the echoes of the war were heard at the Turner place; but once the -editor returned from Hillsborough with some very sad news for a lady who -lived near _The Countryman_ office with her father, Her husband had been -killed in one of the great battles, and her screams when the editor told -her of it, and the cries of her little daughter, haunted Joe Maxwell for -many a long day. Sometimes he lay awake at night thinking about it, and -out of the darkness it seemed to him that he could build a grim mirage -of war, vanishing and reappearing like an ominous shadow, and devouring -the people. - -The war was horrible enough, distant as it was, but the people who were -left at home--the women and children, the boys, the men who were exempt, -the aged and the infirm--had fears of a fate still more terrible. They -were fears that grew out of the system of slavery, and they grew until -they became a fixed habit of the mind. They were the fears of a negro -insurrection. The whites who were left at home knew that it was in the -power of the negroes to rise and in one night sweep the strength and -substance of the Southern Confederacy from the face of the earth. Some -of the more ignorant whites lived in constant terror. - -Once it was whispered around that the blacks were preparing to rise, -and the fears of the people were so ready to confirm the rumor that the -plantations were placed in a state of siege. The patrol--called by the -negroes "patter-rollers"--was doubled, and for a time the negro quarters -in all parts of the country were visited nightly by the guard. But Joe -Maxwell noticed that the patrol never visited the Turner plantation, and -he learned afterward that they had been warned off. The editor of _The -Countryman_ had the utmost confidence in his negroes, and he would not -allow them to be disturbed at night by the "patter-rollers." He laughed -at the talk of a negro uprising, and it was a favorite saying of his -that the people who treated their negroes right had nothing to fear from -them. - -[Illustration: 0073] - -As for Joe Maxwell, he had no time to think about such things. He -sometimes rode with the patrol on their fruitless and sometimes foolish -errands, but his curiosity with regard to them was soon satisfied, and -he was better contented when he was spending his evenings at home with -his books, or in listening to the wonderful tales that Mr. Snelson -told for his benefit. In spite of the fact that his work in the little -printing-office was confining, the lad managed to live an outdoor life -for a good part of the time. He had a task to do--so many thousand ems -to set--and then he was through for the day. The thoughtful Mr. Snelson -added to this task from time to time, but Joe always managed to complete -it so as to have the greater part of the afternoon for his own. - -There was a hat-shop on the plantation presided over by Mr. Wall, a -queer old man from North Carolina. With the thrift of youth Joe gave -the amusement of rabbit-hunting a business turn. In the fall and winter, -when the rabbits were in fur, their skins could be sold at the -hat-shop at twenty-five cents a dozen, and the little harriers were so -industrious and so well trained that he sometimes sold as many as three -dozen skins, a week. In addition to the pleasure and the money he got -from the sport, he became very much interested in the hat-shop. - -The hats were made as they had been during the Revolution, and as they -were no doubt made in England before the Revolution. The hair on the -pelts or skins was scraped off with a knife fashioned like a shoemaker's -knife. The fur was then cut away with a steel blade that had no handle. -When there was enough fur to make a hat it was placed on a bench or -counter. Over the counter was suspended a long staff, to which was -fastened a bowstring. If the staff had been bent it would have had the -appearance of a huge bow, but it was straight, and the rawhide string -was allowed a little play. With an instrument not unlike a long spool -the hatter would catch the bowstring, pull it away from the staff, and -allow it to whip against the fur as it sprang back into place. This -whipping was carried on very rapidly, and was kept up until every tuft -of fur was broken apart. Then the fur was whipped gently into what was -called a bat, shaped somewhat like a section of orange peel. The hatter -then spread a cambric cloth carefully over it, pressed it down a little, -seized the cloth in the middle between thumb and forefinger, gave it a -flirt in the air and lifted fur and all. To Joe Maxwell it seemed like a -trick of magic. - -The cloth, with the bat of fur lying smoothly and neatly in its fold, -was then placed on a heating box, and kneaded rapidly but gently. -When it seemed to be getting too hot it was sprinkled with water. This -kneading was kept up until the fur shrunk together. When taken from the -cloth it was in the shape of the hats the clowns used to wear in the -circus, and it was called a bonnet. The bonnet was then dipped in -boiling water and pressed and kneaded with an instrument shaped like a -rolling-pin, but smaller. The workers in this department were compelled -to protect their hands from the boiling water by means of leather -fastened to the palms of their hands. The more the bonnets were rolled -and kneaded, the more they shrunk, until finally they were ready to be -placed on the blocks that gave them the hat shape. They were fitted to -these blocks, which were of various sizes, and thrown into a caldron of -boiling water, where they were allowed to stay until they would shrink -no more. - -When hats became scarce after the breaking out of the war, the editor -bought Mr. Wall's interest in the hat-shop, and made him foreman. -Several negroes were placed under him, and they soon became experts -in hat-making. There was a great demand for the hats from all over -the South, and on one occasion Joe Maxwell sold a dozen wool hats for -$500--in Confederate money. - -But the most interesting thing about the shop, as Joe thought, was the -head hatter, Miles Wall, who was the quaintest old man that Joe had ever -seen. He was illiterate--he didn't know a letter in the book--and yet he -was not ignorant. The Bible had been read to him until he was grounded -in its texts and teachings, and he was always ready for an argument on -politics or religion. - -[Illustration: 0076] - -"Whenever you hear anybody a-axing anything," he used to say, "'bout how -I'm a-gettin' on, an' how my family is, un' whether er no my health is -well, you thess up an' tell um that I'm a nachul Baptis'. You thess up -an' tell um that, an' I'll be mighty much erbleege to you. Tell um I'm a -born'd Baptis'." - -Although Mr. Wall was unable to read or write, Joe Maxwell found him to -be a very interesting talker. Perhaps it was his ignorance of books -that made him interesting. He was more superstitious than any of the -negroes--a great believer in signs and omens. One night when Joe went to -visit him, the old man told a story that made a very deep impression on -the lad. There was nothing in the story, but Mr. Wall identified himself -with it, and told it in a way that made it seem real, and it was a long -time before Joe could divest himself of the idea that the story was not -true. Wherever Mr. Wall got it, whether he dreamed it or heard it, there -is no doubt that he really believed it. - - - - -CHAPTER V--MR. WALL'S STORY - - -This is the way he told it, by the light of a pine-knot fire that threw -a wavering and an uncertain light over the little room: - -"I'm monst'us sorry. Daught ain't here," he began, "'cause she know'd -the folks thess ez well ez I did; she's been thar at the house an' seed -um. It thess come inter my min' whilst we been a-settin' here talkin' -'bout ghostses an' the like er that. Daught's over yander settin' up wi' -Mis Clemmons, an' I wisht she wuz here. She know'd 'em all. - -"Well, sir, it wuz in North Ca'liny, right nex' ter the Ferginny -line, whar we all cum frum. They wuz a fammerly thar by the name er -Chambliss--Tom Chambliss an' his wife--an' they had a boy name John, in -about ez peart a chap ez you ever set your eyes on. Arter awhile, Miss -Chambliss, she took sick an' died. Tom, he moped aroun' right -smartually, but 'twan't long fo' he whirled in an' married agin. He went -away off some'rs for to get his wife, the Lord knows whar, an' she wuz a -honey! She fussed so much an' went on so that Tom, he took ter drink, -an' he went from dram ter dram tell he wern't no manner account. Then -she took arter John, the boy, an' she thess made that child's life -miserbul a-doggin' arter him all day long an' half the night. - -"One Sunday she fixed up an' went ter church, arter tellin' Johnny for -to stay at home an' keep the chickens outn' the sallid-patch. She locked -the door of the house before she went off an' took the key wi' 'er. It -wuz right down coolish, but the sun wuz a-shinin' an' Johnny didn't min' -the cold. Ther' wuz a big white oak-tree in the yard, an' he clum' up -that an' crope out on a lim' an' got on top er the house, an' sot up -thar a straddle er the comb. He wuz a feeling mighty lonesome, an' he -didn't know what ter do wi' hisse'f skacely. - -"I dunno how long he sot thar, but presently a great big acorn dropped -on the roof--_ker-bang!_ It wuz sech a big one an' it fell so hard that -it made Johnny jump. It fell on the roof 'bout half-way betwixt the comb -an' the eaves, an' when Johnny looked aroun' for to see what made the -fuss he seed the acorn a-rollin' up to'rds whar he wuz a-settin'. Yes, -sir! stedder rollin' down the roof an' failin' off on the groun', the -acorn come a-rollin' up the shingles thess like it wuz down grade. -Johnny grabbed it ez it come. He picked it up an' looked at it good, an' -then turned it roun' an' 'roun' for to see what kinder consarn it wuz -that rolled up hill stedder rollin' down hill. While he wuz a turnin' -the acorn aroun' he spied a worm hole in it, an' he was thess about -ter break it open when he heard somebody callin'. It sounded like his -stepmammy wuz a-callin' 'im from a way off yander, an' he answered -back 'Ma'am!' thess ez loud as ever he could, an' then he sot still an' -listened. Bimeby he heard the callin' again, an' he answered back: -'Who is you, an' whar is you?' It seemed like then that he could hear -somebody laughin' at 'im some'rs. These here sounds sorter put 'im out, -an' he took an' shot the acorn down the roof like it wuz a marvel. Yit, -before it could fall off, it seemed ter kinder ketch itself, an' then it -come a-rollin' back to Johnny. - -"This sorter made Johnny feel kinder creepy. He know'd mighty well that -he didn't have no loadstone in his pocket, an' he couldn't make no head -ner tail to sech gwine's on. He picked up the acorn an' looked at it -closeter than ever, an' turned it 'roun' an' 'roun' in his hand, an' -helt it right up to his eye. Whilst he was a-holdin' it up that a-way -he heard a little bit er voice ez fine ez a cambric needle, an' it seem -like it wuz a-singin': - - "Ningapie, Ningapie! - - Why do you hol' me at your eye? - - Ningapie, Ningapee! - - Don't you know that you can't see? - - Ningapie, Ningapeer! - - Why don't you hol' me to your ear? - -[Illustration: 0082] - -"Johnny didn't know whether to laugh er cry, but he helt the acorn to -his ear, an' he heard sumpin' er other on the inside holler out: - -"'Why don't you hold my house so I can talk out'n my window?' - -"'I don't see no window,' says Johnny, sorter shakin' a little, bekase -the Watchermacollum talked like it was mad. 'Is thish here worm-hole -your window?' - -"'Tooby shore it is,' say the Whatshisname, 'it's my window an' my front -door, an' my peazzer.' - -"'Why, it ain't bigger than the pint of a pin,' says Johnny. - -"'But ef it wuzn't big enough,' say the--er--Watchermacollum, 'I'd make -it bigger.' - -"'What is your name?' says Johnny. - -"'Ningapie.' - -"'It's a mighty funny name,' says Johnny. 'Where did you come from?' - -"'Chuckalucker town.' - -"'That's in the song,' says Johnny. - -"'Me, too," says Ningapie. 'It's in the song. Ain't you never heard it?' - - "Ningapie! Ningapan! - - He up an' killed the Booger Man! - - Ningapie, Ningapitch! - - 'He's the one to kill a witch.' - -"Johnny wuz so took up wi' the talkin' an' the singin' of the little -feller in the acorn that he didn't hear his stepmammy when she come, -an' when he did hear her he wuz that skeered that he shook like a -poplar-leaf. - -"'Watch out!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Watch out! Be right -still. Don't move. I want to show you sumpin'.' - -"'She'll skin me alive,' says Johnny. - -"'Thess wait,' says the little chap. 'If she calls you, keep right -still.' - -"Mis. Chambliss onlocked the door an' went in the house, an' slammed -things down like she wuz mad. She flung the tongs down on the h'ath, -slung the shovel in a corner, an' sot a cheer back like she wuz tryin' -for to drive it thoo the wall. Then she began to jaw. - -"'I'll get 'im! Me a-tellin' 'im to stay an' min' the sallid-patch, an' -he a-runnin' off! Won't I make 'im pay for it?' - -"'That's me,' says Johnny, an' he talked like he wuz mighty nigh ready -to cry. - -"'Thess wait!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Keep right still!' - -"Bimeby Mis. Chambliss come out'n the house an' looked all aroun'. Then -she called Johnny. She had a voice like a dinner-horn, an' you moughter -heard her a mile or more. Johnny he shook an' shivered, but he stayed -still. His stepmammy called an' called, an' looked ever'whar for Johnny -exceptin' in the right place. Then she went back in the house an' -presently she come out. She had a little spade in one hand an' a little -box in t' other. - -"'Watch her!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Keep your eye on her!' - -"She went down in the gyarden an' walked along tell she come to a Mogul -plum-tree, an' then she knelt down an' begun to dig away at the roots of -it. She dug an' dug, and then she put the box in the hole an' covered it -up. - -"'Oho!' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Now you see whar she hides -her money an' your daddy's money. Ever'body thinks your daddy has -been a-throwin' his money away, an' thar's whar it's gone. I've been -a-watchin' her a long time.' - -"'I ain't botherin' 'bout the money,' says Johnny. 'I'm a-thinkin' 'bout -the frailin' I'm gwine to git.' - -"'Well,' says the little chap in the acorn, 'when she goes to the spring -for to fetch a bucket of water, put me in your pocket an' climb down -from here. Then go up the road a piece, an' there you'll see a red -cow a-grazin'. Walk right up to her, slap her on the back, an' say, -"Ningapie wants you." Fetch her home an' tell your stepmammy that a -stranger told you that you might have her ef you'd go an' git her.' - -"Shore enough, 'twan't long before Mis. Chambliss come out'n the house -an' started to the spring for to git a bucket of water. She had done -took an' pulled off her Sunday-go-to-meetin' duds, an' she looked mighty -scrawny in her calico frock. Time she got out'n sight Johnny put the -acorn in his pocket an' scrambled down to the groun', an' then he split -off up the road ez hard ez ever he could go. He didn't go so mighty fur -before he seed a red cow feedin' by the side of the road, an' she wuz a -fine cow, too, ez fat ez a butter-ball, an' lookin' like she mought be -able for to give four gallons of milk a day an' leave some over for the -calf wharsoever the calf mought be. When she seed Johnny walkin' right -to'rds her, she raised her head an' sorter blowed like cow creeturs will -do, but she stood stock still tell Johnny come up an' patted her on the -back an' says: - -"'Ningapie wants you.' - -"Then she shook her head an' trotted along at Johnny's heels, an' Johnny -marched down the road a-swellin' up wi' pride tell he like to bust the -buttons off'n his coat. When he got home his stepmammy wuz a-stan'in' -at the gate a-waitin' for him wi' a hickory, but when she seed the cow -a-followin' long behine him, she took an' forgot all about the whippin' -she'd laid up. - -"'Why, Johnny!' say she, 'whar in the wide world did you git sech a -be-u-tiful cow?'" - -In his effort to mimic a woman's voice, Mr. Wall screwed up his mouth -and twisted it around to such an alarming extent that Joe Maxwell -thought for an instant the old man was going to have a spasm. The lad -laughed so heartily when he found out his mistake that Mr. Wall repeated -his effort at mimicking. - -"'Why, Johnny,' say she, 'whar in the wide world did you git sech a -be-u-tiful cow?' - -"Johnny, he up an' tol' his stepmammy what Ningapie tol' 'im to say, an' -the ole'oman, she wuz e'en about ez proud ez Johnny wuz. She patted the -cow on the back, an' muched her up might'ly, an' then she took her in -the lot an' got ready fer to milk her. Johnny felt the acorn a-jumpin' -about in his pocket, an' he took it out an' helt it up to his ear. - -"'Watch her when she goes to milk,' says Ningapie. - -"Johnny clumb the fence an' waited. Thess 'bout the time his stepmammy -begun fer to milk the cow good, a little black dog come a-rushin' 'roun' -the yard a-barkin' fit to kill. Time she heard 'im, the cow give a jump -an' come mighty nigh knockin' ole Mis. Chambliss over. Time everything -got quiet, here come a big pack of dogs a-chargin' 'roun' the -lot-palin's in full cry, an' it look like to Johnny that the cow would -shorely have a fit. - -"When night come," Mr. Wall continued, throwing another pine-knot into -the fire, "Johnny got some milk for his supper, an' then he went to bed. -He helt the acorn to his ear for to tell the little chap good-night. - -"'Don't put me on the shelf,' says Ningapie, 'an' don't put me on the -floor.' - -"'Why?' says Johnny, in a whisper. - -"'Bekaze the rats might git me,' says Ningapie. - -"'Well,' says Johnny, 'I'll let you sleep on my piller.' - -"Some time in the night Johnny felt sump'n run across the foot of his -bed. He wuz wide awake in a minit, but he kept mighty still, bekaze he -wuz skeer'd. Presently he felt sump'n jump up on his bed an' run across -it. Then it popped in his head about Ningapie, an' he felt for the acorn -tell he found it. - -"'Now's your time,' says Ningapie. 'Git up an' put on your clozes quick -an' foller the little black dog.' - -"Johnny jumped up, an' was ready in three shakes of a sheep's tail, an' -he could hear the little black dog a-caperin' aroun' on the floor. When -he started, he took the acorn in his han'. The door opened to let him -out, an' shot itse'f when he got out, an' then the little black dog went -trottin' down the big road. It wuz dark, but the stars wuz a-shinin', -an' Johnny could tell by the ell-an'-yard" (the constellation of Orion) -"that it wuz nigh midnight. - -"They hadn't gone fur before they come to a big white hoss a-standin' in -the road, chompin' his bit an' pawin' the groun'. - -"'Mount the hoss,' says Ningapie. - -"Johnny jumped on his back, an' the hoss went canterin' down the road. -'Twan't long 'fore Johnny seed a light shinin' in the road, an' when -he got a little nigher he seed it was right in the middle of the cross -roads. A fire was a-blazin' up thar, an' who should be a-feedin' of it -but his stepmammy? Her hair wuz a-hangin' down, an' she looked like ole -Nick hisse'f. She wuz a-walkin' 'roun' the blaze, a-mumblin' some kinder -talk, an' a-makin' motions wi' her han's, an' thar wuz a great big -black cat a-walkin' 'roun' wi' her, an' a-rubbin' up agin her, and the -creetur's tail wuz swelled up out'n all reason. - -"'Watch out, now,' says Ningapie, 'an''hold on to your hoss.' - -"He hadn't more'n spoke the words before a pack of dogs broke out of the -woods an' made right for the ole'oman, an' Johnny's hoss a-fol-lerin' - 'em. Thar wuz a monst'us scatteration of chunks an' fire-coals, an' then -it looked like 'oman, dogs, an' all riz up in the elements, an' thar wuz -sech another yowlin' an' howlin' an' growlin' ez ain't never been heard -in them parts before nor sence. - -"When Johnny got back home he found his pappy a-waitin' for him, an' he -looked like a new man. Then they went down into the gyarden, an' -thar they foun' a pile of gold packed up in little boxes. Ez for -the ole'oman, she never did come back. She wuz a witch, an' Ningapie -unwitched her." - -"And what become of the acorn?" asked Joe Maxwell. - -"Ah, Lord!" said Mr. Wall, with a sigh, "you know how boys is. Like ez -not, Johnny took an' cracked it open wi' a hammer for to see what kind -of a creetur Ningapie wuz." - - - - -CHAPTER VI--THE OWL AND THE BIRDS - - -The Gaither boy grew to be very friendly with Joe Maxwell, and he -turned out to be a very pleasant companion. He was fifteen years old, -but looked younger, and although he had no book-learning, he was very -intelligent, having picked up a great deal of the wholesome knowledge -that Nature keeps in store for those who make her acquaintance. He could -read a little, and he could write his name, which he took great pride -in doing, using a stick for a pen and a bed of sand for a copy-book. -Walking along through the fields or woods, he would pause wherever -the rains had washed the sand together, and write his name in full in -letters that seemed to be wrestling with each other--"James K. Polk -Gaither." As there was another James in his family, he was called -Jim-Polk Gaither. - -His friendship was worth a great deal to Joe Maxwell, for there was -not a bird in the woods nor a tree that he did not know the name of and -something of its peculiarities, and he was familiar with every road and -bypath in all the country around. He knew where the wild strawberries -grew, and the chincapins and chestnuts, and where the muscadines, or, -as he called them, the "bullaces," were ripest. The birds could not hide -their nests from him, nor the wild creatures escape him. He had a tame -buzzard that sometimes followed him about in his rambles. He set traps -for flying squirrels, and tamed them as soon as his hands touched them. -He handled snakes fearlessly, and his feats with them were astounding -to the town lad until Joe discovered that the serpents were not of the -poisonous species. In handling highland moccasins and spreading adders, -Jim-Polk confined his feats to seizing them by their tails as they ran -and snapping their heads off. Whenever he killed one in this way he -always hung it on a bush or tree in order, as he said, to bring rain. -When it failed to rain, his explanation was that as a snake never dies -until sundown, no matter how early in the morning it may be killed, it -had twisted and writhed until it fell from the limb or bush on which it -was hung. - -Jim-Polk had many gifts and acquirements that interested Joe Maxwell. -Once when the two lads were walking through the woods they saw a pair -of hawks some distance away. Jim-Polk motioned to Joe to hide under -a hawthorn bush. Then, doubling his handkerchief before his mouth, he -began to make a curious noise--a series of smothered exclamations that -sounded like hoo!--hoo!--hoo-hoo! He was imitating the cry of the swamp -owl, which Joe Maxwell had never heard. The imitation must have been -perfect, for immediately there was a great commotion in the woods. -The smaller birds fluttered away and disappeared; but the two hawks, -re-enforced by a third, came flying toward the noise with their feathers -ruffled and screaming with indignation. They meant war. Jim-Polk -continued his muffled cries, until presently the boys heard a crow -cawing in the distance. - -"Now you'll see fun," said young Gaither. "Just keep right still." - -The crow was flying high in the air, and would have gone over but the -muffled cry of the owl--hoo! hoo! hoo! hoo!--caught its ear and it -paused in its flight, alighting in the top of a tall pine. Swinging -in this airy outlook, it sent forth its hoarse signals, and in a few -minutes the pine was black with its companions, all making a tremendous -outcry. Some of them dropped down into the tops of the scrub-oaks. They -could not find the owl, but they caught sight of the hawks, and sounded -their war-cry. Such cawing, screaming, fluttering, and fighting Joe -Maxwell had never seen before. The hawks escaped from the crows, but -they left many of their feathers on the battle-field. One of the hawks -did not wholly escape, for in his fright he flew out of the woods into -the open, and there he was pounced on by a kingbird, which Jim-Polk -called a bee martin. This little bird, not larger than his cousin, -the catbird, lit on the hawk's back and stayed there as long as they -remained in sight. The commotion set up by the crows had attracted the -attention of all the birds, except the smallest, and they flew about in -the trees, uttering notes of anger or alarm, all trying to find the owl. - -The incident was very interesting to Joe Maxwell. He discovered that the -owl is the winged Ishmael of the woods, the most hated and most feared -of all the birds. A few days afterward he went with Harbert to see the -hogs fed, and he told the negro how all the birds seemed to hate the -owl. - -"Lord! yes, sah!" said Harbert, who seemed to know all about the matter. -"Ain't you never is hear tell er de tale 'bout de owl an' de yuther -birds? Ole man Remus tole it ter me dis many a year ago, an' sence den I -bin hear talk about it mo' times dan what I got fingers an' toes." - -Of course, Joe wanted to hear-- - - -THE STORY OF THE OWL. - -"Well, suh," said Harbert, "hit run sorter like dis: One time way back -yander, fo' ole man Remus wuz born'd, I speck, all de birds wuz in -cahoots; dem what fly in de air, an' dem what walk on de groun', an' dem -what swim on de water--all un um. Dey all live in one settlement, an' -whatsomever dey mought pick up endurin' er de day, dey'd fetch it ter -der place wharbouts dey live at, an' put it wid de rest what de yuther -ones bin a-ketchin' an' a-fetchin'. - -"Dey kep' on dis away, twel, twant long fo' dey done save up a right -smart pile er fust one thing an' den anudder. De pile got so big dat dey -'gun ter git skeered dat some un ud come 'long whilst dey wus away an' -he'p derse'f. Bimeby some er de mo' 'spicious 'mong um up an' say dat -somebody bin stealin' fum de provision what dey savin' up ginst hard -times. Mr. Jaybird, he coyspon' wid Mr. Crow, an' Mr. Crow he coyspon' -wid Miss Chicken Hawk, and Miss Chicken Hawk she coyspon' wid Mr. Eagle, -which he was de big buckra er all de birds. An' den dey all coyspon' wid -one anudder, an' dey 'low dat dey bleeze ter lef' somebody dar fer ter -watch der winter wittles whiles dey er off a-huntin' up mo'. Dey jowered -an' jowered a long time, twel, bimeby, Mr. Eagle, he up an' say dat -de bes' dey kin do is to 'pint Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch. Mr. Owl he -sorter hoot at dis, but 'tain't do no good, kaze de yuthers, dey say dat -all Mr. Owl got ter do is ter sleep mo' endurin' er de night an' stay -'wake endurin' er de day. - -"So, den," Harbert went on, pausing as if trying to remember the thread -of the story, "dey 'pinted Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch, an' dey all flewd -off, some one way an' some anudder. Mr. Owl, he tuck his seat, he -did, whar he kin take in a right smart stretch er country wid his big -eyeball, an' he sot dar right peart. But bimeby he'gun ter git lonesome. -Dey want nobody ter talk ter, an' de sun shine so bright dat he bleeze -ter shet his eye, an' 'fo' he know what he doin' he wuz a settin' dar -noddin' same ez a nigger by a hick'ry fire. Every once in a while he'd -ketch hissef an' try ter keep 'wake, but, do what he would, he can't -keep his eye open, an' bimeby he snap his mouf like he mad an' den he -slapped his head under his wing an' dropped off ter sleep good fashion. -Kaze when a bird git his head under his wing hit's des de same ez gwine -ter bed an' pullin' de kiver 'roun' yo' years. - -"Well, suh, dar he wuz, settin' up fast asleep. 'Long in de co'se er de -day, Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird, dey struck up wid one annuder out in de -woods, an' dey sot down in a popular-tree fer to carry on a confab. Dey -done bin coy-spon' wid one anudder an' dey bofe bin pullin' up corn. Mr. -Crow'low ter Mr. Jaybird dat he ain't so mighty certain an' shore 'bout -Mr. Owl, kaze he mighty sleepy-headed. Wid dat, Mr. Jaybird, he up an' -say dat he got dat ve'y idee in his min'. Dey sot dar an' swop talk'bout -Mr. Owl, twel, atter while, dey'gree ter go back fer de settlement an' -see what Mr. Owl doin'. - -"Well, suh, dey went dar, an' dar dey foun' 'im. Yasser! Mr. Owl sholy -wuz dar. He wuz settin' up on a lim' wid his head flung under his wing, -an' 'twuz all dey kin do fer ter wake 'im up. Dey hollered at 'im des -loud ez dey kin, an' bimeby he woke up an' tuck his head out from under -his wing an' look at um des ez solium ez a camp-meetin' preacher. -Dey 'buze 'im--dey quoiled--dey call 'im out'n his name--dey jowered -at 'im--but tain't do no good. He des sot dar, he did, an' look at um, -an' he ain't say nuthin' 'tall. Dis make Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird mighty -mad, kaze when folks quoil an' can't git nobody for ter quoil back at -um, it make um wusser mad dan what dey wuz at fust. Dat night when de -yuther birds come home, Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird, dey had a mighty tale -ter tell. Some b'lieved um an' some didn't b'lieve um. Miss Jenny Wren, -an' Mr. Jack Sparrow, an' Miss Cat Bird, dey b'lieved um, an' dey went -on so twel de yuther birds can't hear der own years, skacely. But de big -birds, dey sorter helt off, an' say dey gwine ter give Mr. Owl anudder -chance. - -"Well, suh, dey give Mr. Owl two mo' trials, let alone one, an' eve'y -time dey lef 'im dar fer ter watch an' gyard, dey'd fin' 'm fast asleep. -An' dat ain't all; dey skivered dat somebody done bin slippin' in an' -totin' off der provisions. - -[Illustration: 0099] - -"Dat settle de hash fer Mr. Owl. De birds sot a day an' fotch Mr. Owl up -fer ter stan' trial, an' dey laid down de law dat fum dat time forrud -dat Mr. Owl shan't go wid de yuther birds, an' dat de nex' time dey -kotch 'im out de word wuz ter be give, an' dey wuz all ter fall foul -un 'im an' frail'm out. Den dey say dat when he sleep he got ter sleep -wid bofe eyes wide open, a'n dey lay it down dat he got ter keep watch -all night long, an' dat whensomever he hear any fuss he got ter holler -out: - -"'Who--who--who pesterin' we all?' - -"Dat de way de law stan's," continued Har-bert, placing his basket of -corn on the top rail of the fence, "an dat de way it gwine ter stan'. -Down ter dis day, when Mr. Owl asleep, he sleep wid his eye wide open, -an' when de yuther birds ketch him out, dey light on to 'im like folks -puttin' out fire, an' when he ups an' hollers in de night-time, you kin -hear 'im say: - -"'Who--who--who pesterin' we all?'" - -With a laugh, in which Joe Maxwell heartily joined, Harbert turned -his attention to calling his hogs, and the way he did this was as -interesting to Joe as the story had been. He had a voice of wonderful -strength and power, as penetrating and as melodious as the notes of a -cornet. On a still day, when there was a little moisture in the air, -Harbert could make himself heard two miles. The range over which the -hogs roamed was at least a mile and a half from the pen. In calling them -the negro broke into a song. It was only the refrain that the distant -hogs could hear, but as it went echoing over the hills and valleys it -seemed to Joe to be the very essence of melody. The song was something -like this: - - -HOG-FEEDER S SONG. - - Oh, rise up, my ladies, lissen unter me, - - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night fer ter knock along er you. - - Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - - Oh, de stars look bright des like dey gwineter fall, - - En'way todes sundown you hear de killdee call: - - Stee-wee! Killdee! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - - - De blue barrer squeal kaze he can't squeeze froo, - - En he hump up he back, des like niggers do-- - - Oh, humpty-umpty blue! Pig-gee! Pig-goo! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - - - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night a gallantin' out wid you! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-hoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - - Ole sow got sense des ez sho's youer bo'n - - 'Kaze she tak'n hunch de baskit fer ter shatter out co'n-- - - Ma'am, you makes too free! Pig-goo! Pig-gee! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! - - - W'en de pig git fat he better stay close, - - 'Kaze fat pig nice fer ter hide out en' roas'-- - - En he taste mighty good in de barbecue! - - Oh, roas' pig, shoo! 'N-yum! dat barbecue! - - Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo! - - - Oh, rise up, my ladies! Lissen unter me: - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whee! - - I'm a-gwine dis night fer ter knock aroun' wid you! - - Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo! - - Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee! - - -"Marse Joe," said Harbert, after he had counted the hogs to see that -none were missing, "I got sumpin' at my house fer you. I'm layin' off -fer ter fetch it dis ve'y night." - -"What is it?" asked Joe. - -"Tain't much," said Harbert. "Des some 'simmon beer an' some -ginger-cake." - -"I'm very much obliged to you," said Joe. - -"Oh,'tain't me," said Harbert, quickly. "I was puttin' up de -carriage-horses las' night when I hear somebody callin' me, an' I went -ter de fence, an' dar wuz a nigger'oman wid a jug in one han' an' -a bundle in de udder, an' she say dar wuz some 'simmon beer an' some -ginger-cakes, an' she up an' ax me would I be so compleasant fer to give -um ter Marse Joe Maxwell, an' I 'lowed dat I'd be so compleasant." - -"Who was the woman?" Joe asked. - -"She some kin ter Mink," answered Harbert, evasively. - -"Well, what kin?" asked Joe. - -"She ain't so mighty much kin, needer," said Harbert. "She des his wife. -She 'low dat ef you got any washin' er darnin' dat you want done she be -glad ter do it, an' den I say, 'Shoo nigger 'oman! G'way fum here! What -you speck my wife here fer?'" - -Here Harbert tried to look indignant, but failed. Presently he -continued: "Dat are 'simmon beer got sign in it." - -"What sign is that?" asked Joe. - -"Well, suh, when 'simmonses is ripe hit's a shore sign dat 'possum ready -ter eat, an' tain't gwine ter be long 'fo' you hear me a-hollerin' -'roun' thoo de woods, mo' speshually if I kin git holt er dem dogs -what dat Gaither boy got. When it come ter 'possum an' coon dey er de -outdoin'est dogs you ever is lay yo' eyes on." - -"I can get the dogs any time," said Joe. - -"Well, suh," said Harbert with enthusiasm, "atter to-night you can't git -um too soon." - - - - -CHAPTER VII--OLD ZIP COON - - -Jim-Polk Gaither was very glad to go hunting with Joe Maxwell, having -taken a strong boyish liking to the lad, and so one Saturday evening he -came over to the Turner place with his dogs, Jolly and Loud. They were -large, fine-looking hounds, and Joe examined them with interest. Their -color was black and tan, and each had two little yellow spots over his -eyes. Loud was the heavier of the two, and Jim-Polk explained that he -had "the best nose" and the best voice, and yet he declared that in some -respects Jolly was the best dog. - -Harbert had already prepared for the hunt, and he soon made his -appearance with an axe and a bundle of fat twine to be used for torches. - -"Now, then," said Jim-Polk, "what kind of game do you want? Shall it -be 'possum or coon?" - -"Dat's for Marse Joe to say," said Harbert, - -"These are mighty funny dogs," explained Jim-Polk. "If you start out wi' -a light, they'll hunt 'possums all night long. If you go into the woods -an' fetch a whoop or two before you strike a light, they won't notice -no 'possum; but you better believe they'll make old Zip Coon lift hisself -off'n the ground. So whichever you want you'll have to start out right." - -[Illustration: 0105] - -"'Possum mighty good," said Harbert, seeing Joe hesitate. - -"Lots of fun in runnin' a coon," said Jim-Polk. - -"Well," said Joe, "let's start without a light." - -"Dat settles it," exclaimed Harbert, with a good-humored grimace. "I -done bin hunt wid deze dogs befo'." - -"You must have stole 'em out," said Jim-Polk. - -"No, suh," replied Harbert, "I went wid Mink." - -"I wish to goodness," exclaimed Jim-Polk, "that Mink was at home. Pap, -he sides with the overseer, but when I get a little bigger I'm a-goin' -to whirl in and give that overseer a frail-in', if it's the last act." - -"Now you talkin'!" said Harbert, with emphasis. - -It was some time before they got free of the pasture-land, and then -they went by Mr. Snelson's, so that Joe might change his clothes for -a rougher suit. That genial gentleman was very much interested in the -hunt, and he finally persuaded himself to go. - -"I'll go," said he, "joost to pertect the lads. It's a fine mess I'm -after gettin' into, and it's all on account of me good feelin's. They'll -be the death of me some day, and thin a fine man'll be gone wit' nobuddy -to take his place." - -Mr. Snelson was so enthusiastic that he wanted to lead the way, but -after he had fallen over a stump and rushed headlong into a brush-heap, -he was content to give the lead to Harbert. - -Jim-Polk, who was bringing up the rear with Joe Maxwell, gave the latter -to understand that even if they didn't catch a coon, they'd have a good -deal of fun with the genial printer. - -"We'll have fun with him," said Jim-Polk, "if we don't have to tote him -home." - -Mr. Snelson kept up a running fire of conversation, which was only -interrupted when he stepped into a hole or a ditch. - -"I've often read of chasing the raccoon," he said, "but it never -occurred to me mind it was anything approachin' this. You're right sure -it's the regular thing?" - -"You'll think so before you get back home," remarked Jim-Polk. Harbert, -knowing what these words really meant, laughed loudly. - -"Well, well," said the genial printer, "if it's all a joke, I'd as well -turn in me tracks and go home." - -"Oh, no!" exclaimed Jim-Polk. "Don't go home. If you think it's a joke -when we get through with it, you may have my hat." - -"Dat's so," cried Harbert. "Dat's so, sho! An' ef he wuz ter git de hat, -I speck I'd ha' ter he'p'm tote it. Yasser! Dat what I speck." - -The enthusiastic Mr. Snelson and Harbert were ahead, and Joe Maxwell and -Jim-Polk brought up the rear. - -"I hope my dogs'll behave their selves tonight," said young Gaither. -"You went on so about Bill Locke's nigger dogs that I want you to hear -Jolly and Loud when they get their bristles up. But they're mighty -quare. If Loud strikes a trail first, Jolly will begin to pout. I call -it poutin'. He'll run along with Loud, but he won't open his mouth until -the scent gets hot enough to make him forget himself. If it's a 'possum, -he'll let old Loud do all the trailin' and the treein'. You'd think -there was only one dog, but when you get to the tree you'll find Jolly -settin' there just as natchul as life." - -The hunters had now come to the lands bordering on Rocky Creek, and, -even while Jim-Polk was speaking, the voice of a dog was heard. Then it -was twice repeated--a mellow, far-reaching, inspiring sound, that caused -every nerve in Joe Maxwell's body to tingle. - -"Shucks!" exclaimed Jim-Polk, in a disgusted tone. "It's old Loud, and -we won't hear from Jolly till the coon's track is hot enough to raise a -blister." - -Again Loud opened, and again, and always with increasing spirit, and -his voice, borne over the woods and fields on the night winds, was most -musical. - -"Oh, my goodness!" cried Jim-Polk; "if I had Jolly here, I'd kill him. -No, I wouldn't, neither!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Just listen! he's -a-puttin' in now!" With that he gave a yell that fairly woke the echoes -and caused Mr. Snelson to jump. - -"Upon me soul!" said that worthy gentleman, "ye'll never die wit' -consumption. In me books I've read of them that made the welkin ring, -but I've never heard it rung before." - -"Shucks!" said Jim-Polk; "wait till Harbert there gets stirred up." - -It was true that Jolly, as Jim-Polk expressed it, had "put in." The -scent was warm enough to cure his sulkiness. Running in harmony and -giving mouth alternately, and sometimes together, the music the two dogs -made was irresistibly inspiring, and when Harbert at intervals lifted up -his voice to cheer them on even Mr. Snelson glowed with excitement and -enthusiasm. - -"Now, then, Harbert," said Jim-Polk, "you can light your carriage-lamps, -and by that time well know which way we've got to trot." - -The torches were soon lit, one for Jim-Polk and one for Harbert, and -then they paused to listen to the dogs. - -"That coon has been caught out from home," said Jim-Polk, after a pause. -"The dogs are between him and his hollow tree. He's makin' for that -dreen in pap's ten-acre field. There's a pond there, and old Zip has -gone there after a bait of frogs. Just wait till they turn his head this -way." - -"Tut, tut, young man!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with something like a -frown. "Ye talk like somebody readin' from a book--upon me word ye -do--and if that was all I'd not disagree wit' ye; but ye go on and talk -for all the world like ye had yure two blessed eyes on the coon all the -time. Come! if ye know all that, how d'ye know it?" - -"Well, sir," said Jim-Polk, "the coon is three quarters of an hour ahead -of the dogs--maybe a little more, maybe a little less. How do I know -it? Why, because I know my dogs. They ain't on their mettle. They ain't -runnin' at more than half speed, if that. I can tell by the way they -open on the trail. Old Loud is takin' his time. When he gets the coon -started home you'll hear him fairly lumber. How do I know the coon is -goin' away from home? Shucks! My sev'n senses tell me that. We started -out early. So did old Zip. He was at the pond huntin' for frogs when he -heard old Louder open. If he's struck out on t'other side of the dreen -we'll have to wait tell the dogs fetch him back to the creek. If he -struck out on this side, he'll come right down the hollow below here. -Let's see what the dogs say." - -"Deyer 'livenin' up," said Harbert. - -The hunters walked a few hundred yards to the verge of the slope -that led to the bed of the creek. Suddenly the dogs were silent. Ten -seconds--twenty; a half-minute passed, and nothing could be heard of the -dogs. - -"We may as well return home," said Mr. Snelson. "The ravenous beasts -have overtaken him, and they'll lay by till they've devoured him. Upon -me soul, it's queer tastes they have!" - -"Oh, no," replied Jim-Polk. "Dogs'll eat rabbits and squirrels, but they -never eat coons nor 'possums. You'll hear from Jolly and Loud terreckly, -and then they'll be a-gallantin' old Zip home. Just listen!" - -As he spoke Loud gave mouth with a roar that filled the woods, and he -was immediately joined by Jolly, whose quicker and more decisive voice -chimed in as a pleasant accompaniment. - -"They are cornin' right this way!" exclaimed Jim-Polk, breathlessly. -"Don't make a fuss--just be right still, so's not to skeer the coon -across the creek. Jewhillikens! Jest listen at old Loud a-lumberin'!" - -And it was worth listening to. The mettle of the dog--of both dogs--was -now fairly up, and they gave voice with a heat and vigor that could -hardly have been improved upon if they had been in sight of the fleeing -raccoon. They seemed to be running at full speed. They passed within -twenty yards of where the hunters stood, snorting fiercely as they -caught their breath to bark. As they went by, Harbert sent a wild halloo -after them that seemed to add to their ardor. - -"Now, then," exclaimed Jim-Polk, "we've got to go. You take the axe, -Harbert, and let Joe take your light." - -Raising his torch aloft, Jim-Polk sprang forward after the dogs, closely -followed by Joe Maxwell and Harbert, while Mr. Snelson brought up the -rear. The clever printer was not a woodsman, and he made his way through -the undergrowth and among the trees with great difficulty. Once, when he -paused for a moment to disentangle his legs from the embrace of a bamboo -brier, he found himself left far in the rear, and he yelled lustily to -his companions. - -"Mother of Moses!" he exclaimed at the top of his voice, "will ye be -after leavin' me in the wilderness?" - -But for the quick ear of Harbert, he would assuredly have been left. The -other hunters waited for him, and he came up puffing and blowing. - -"I could cut a cord o' wood wit' half the exertion!" he exclaimed. -"Come, boys! let's sit down an' have an understandin'. Me legs and me -whole body politic have begun for to cry out agin this harum-scarum -performance. Shall we go slower, or shall ye pick me up an' carry me?" - -The boys were willing to compromise, but in the ardor of the chase they -would have forgotten Mr. Snelson if that worthy gentleman had not made -his presence known by yelling at them whenever they got too far ahead. -The dogs ran straight down the creek for a mile at full speed. Suddenly -Jim-Polk cried out: - -"They've treed!" - -"Yasser!" said Harbert, with a loud whoop; "dey mos' sholy is!" - -"Then," said Mr. Snelson, sarcastically, "the fun is all over--the jig -is up.'Tis a thousand pities." - -"Not much!" exclaimed Jim-Polk. "The fun's just begun. A coon ain't -kotch jest because he's up a tree." - -"Well, sir," said Mr. Snelson, with a serious air, "if they've got -wings, upon me soul, we should have fetched a balloon." - -When the hounds were trailing there was a mellow cadence in their tones -which was not to be heard when they barked at the tree. They gave mouth -more deliberately, and in a measured way. - -When the hunters arrived the hounds were alternately baying and gnawing -at the foot of the tree. - -"Bark to bark!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with much solemnity. His little -joke was lost on all save Joe Maxwell, who was too much interested in -the coon to laugh at it. - -Much to Harbert's delight, the tree was not a large one, and he made -immediate preparations to cut it down. - -"Wait a minit," said Jim-Polk. "This coon ain't at home, and we'd better -be certain of the tree he is in." - -"You must have been visitin' him," said the genial printer, "for how de -ye know about his home, else?" - -"Some of these days," said Jim-Polk, laughing, "I'll come to your house -an' stay to dinner, an' tell you about how coons live in holler trees." - -"Fetch your dinner wit' ye," responded Snelson, "and ye're more than -welcome." - -Jim-Polk was too busy to make a reply. Holding the torch behind him, -and waving it slowly, he walked around the tree. He appeared to be -investigating his own shadow, which flickered and danced in the leaves -and branches. Now stooping and peering, now tiptoeing and craning his -neck, now leaning to the right and now to the left, he looked into the -top of the tree. Finally, he exclaimed: - -"Here he is, Joe! Come, take a look at him." - -Joe tried his best to see the coon. He looked where Jim-Polk pointed, -taking sight along his finger, but he was obliged to confess that he -could see nothing. - -"Gracious alive!" cried Jim-Polk, "can't you see his eyes a-shinin' in -the leaves there?" - -"Pshaw!" exclaimed Joe; "I was looking for the whole coon, and I thought -the shiny things were stars showing between the leaves." But no stars -ever burned as steadily as the pale-green little orbs that shone in the -tree. - -"Maybe," said Mr. Snelson, after trying in vain to "shine" the coon's -eyes--"maybe the creature has left his eyes there and escaped." But the -others paid no attention to his jocularity. - -"The thing to do now, Harbert," said Jim-Polk, "is to lay that tree -where it won't hit up agin no other tree, because if we don't we'll have -to be a-cuttin' an' a-slashin' in here all night." - -"So!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, in a tragic tone. "Well, then, I'll der-raw -the der-rapery of me couch about me and lie down to pleasant der-reams!" - -"You see," said Jim-Polk, "if that tree hits agin another tree, off goes -Mr. Zip Coon into t'other one. Coon is quicker'n lightnin' on the jump." - -"I'll make'er fall out dat way." Harbert indicated an open place by a -wave of his hand. - -"Upon me soul!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, "I didn't know you could make a -tree fall up hill." - -"Yes, suh!" said Harbert, with pardonable pride. "I done cleaned out too -many new groun's. I lay I kin drive a stob out dar an' put de body er -dish yer tree right 'pon top un it. I kin dat!" - -With that Harbert rolled up his sleeves, displaying the billowy muscles -of his arms, wiped the blade of the axe, spat in his hands, swung the -axe around his head, and buried it deep in the body of the water-oak. It -was a sweeping, downward stroke, and it was followed quickly by others -until in a very short time the tree began to sway a little. The dogs, -which had ceased their baying, now became restless and ran wildly about, -but always keeping a safe distance from the tree. Mr. Snelson took his -stand on one side and Joe Maxwell on the other, while Jim-Polk went out -where the tree was to fall, after cautioning Harbert to keep a lookout -for the coon. The advice to Harbert was given with good reason, for it -is a favorite trick of the raccoon to start down the body of the tree as -it falls and leap off while the dogs and hunters are looking for him in -the bushy top. - -This coon made the same experiment. As the tree swayed forward and fell, -he ran down the trunk. Mr. Snelson saw him, gave a squall, and rushed -forward to grab him. At the same moment Harbert gave a yell that was -a signal to the dogs, and the excited creatures plunged toward him. -Whether it was Jolly or whether it was Loud, no one ever knew, but one -of the dogs, in his excitement, ran between Mr. Snel-son's legs. That -gentleman's heels flew in the air, and he fell on his back with a -resounding thump. Stunned and frightened, he hardly knew what had -happened. The last thing he saw was the coon, and he concluded that he -had captured the animal. - -"Murder!" he screamed. "Run here an' take 'em off! Run here! I've -got 'em!" - -Then began a terrific struggle between Mr. Snelson and a limb of the -tree that just touched his face, and this he kept up until he was lifted -to his feet. He made a ridiculous spectacle as he stood there glaring -angrily around as if trying to find the man or the animal that had -knocked him down and pummeled him. His coat was ripped and torn, and his -pantaloons were split at both knees. He seemed to realize the figure he -cut in the eyes of his companions. - -"Oh, laugh away!" he cried. "'Tis yure opportunity. The next time it -will be at some one else ye're laughing. Upon me soul!" he went on, -examining himself, "I'd ha' fared better in the battle of Manassus. So -this is your coon-hunting, is it? If the Lord and the coon'll forgive -me for me share in this night's worruk, the devil a coon will I hunt any -more whatever." - -Meanwhile the coon had jumped from the tree, with the hounds close -behind him. They had overrun him on the hill, and this gave him an -opportunity to get back to the swamp, where the dogs could not follow -so rapidly. Yet the coon had very little the advantage. As Jim-Polk -expressed it, "the dogs had their teeth on edge," and they were rushing -after him without any regard for brake or brier, lagoon or quagmire. The -only trouble was with Mr. Snelson, who declared that he was fagged out. - -"Well," says Jim-Polk, "we've got to keep in hearin' of the dogs. The -best we can do is to fix you up with a light an' let you follow along -the best way you can. You couldn't get lost if you wanted to,'cause all -you've got to do is to follow the creek, an' you're boun' to ketch up -with us." - -So Mr. Snelson, in spite of his prediction that he would get lost in the -wilderness, and be devoured by the wild beasts, to say nothing of being -frightened to death by owls, was provided with a torch. Then the boys -and Harbert made a dash in the direction of the dogs. If they thought to -leave Mr. Snelson, they reckoned ill, for that worthy man, flourishing -the torch over his head, managed to keep them in sight. - -"The dogs are not very far away," said Joe. "They ought to have gone a -couple of miles by this time." - -"Old Zip is in trouble," said Jim-Polk. "He has been turnin' an' -doublin', an' twistin', an' squirmin'. He can't shake ole Loud off, an' -he can't git home. So what's he goin' to do?" - -"Climb another tree, I reckon," said Joe. - -"Not much!" exclaimed Jim. "He'll take to water." - -The dogs got no farther away, but the chase still kept up. The coon -seemed to be going in all directions, across and around, and presently -the dogs began to bay. - -"He's gone in a-washin'!" exclaimed Jim-Polk, with a yell. - -"Bless me soul! and how do ye know that?" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, who -came up puffing and blowing. - -"Oh, I know mor'n that," said Jim-Polk. "The coon's in the water,'cause -when the dogs bark at him it don't soun' like it did when they had their -heads in the air; an' he's in swimmin' water,'cause, if he wan't, he'd -a' been kilt by this time." - -It was as Jim-Polk said. When the hunters reached the dogs they could -see the coon swimming around and around in the center of a small lagoon, -while the dogs were rushing about on the banks. - -"I wish to goodness," exclaimed Harbert, "dat dey wuz some young dogs -wid us, bekaze den we'd have de biggest kind er fight. Dey'd swim in dar -atter dat coon, an' he'd fetch um a swipe er two, an' den jump on der -heads an' duck um. Gentermens! he sholy is a big un." - -"You're right!" exclaimed Jim-Polk. "He's one of the old-timers. He'd -put up a tremen-jus fight if he didn't have old Loud to tackle.--Fetch -him out, boys!" he cried to the dogs, "fetch him out!" - -Long experience had taught the dogs their tactics. Jolly swam in and -engaged the coon's attention, while Loud followed, swimming sidewise -toward the center. Jolly swam around slowly, while Loud seemed to drift -toward the coon, still presenting a broadside, so to speak. The coon, -following the movements of Jolly, had paid no attention to Loud. -Suddenly he saw the dog, and sprang at him, but it was too late. Loud -ducked his head, and, before the coon could recover, fastened his -powerful jaws on the creature's ribs. There was a loud squall, a fierce -shake, and the battle was over. - -But before the dog could bring the coon to the bank, Mr. Snelson uttered -a paralyzing shriek and ran for the water. Harbert tried to hold him -back. - -"Ouch! loose me! loose me! I'll brain ye if ye don't loose me!" - -Shaking Harbert off, the printer ran to the edge of the lagoon, and -soused his hand and arm in the water. In his excitement he had held the -torch straight over his head, and the hot pitch from the fat pine had -run on his hand and down his sleeve. - -"Look at me!" he exclaimed, as they went slowly homeward. "Just look -at me! The poor wife'll have to doctor me body an' darn me clothes, an' -they're all I've got to me name. If ye'll stand by me, Joe," he went on -pathetically, "I'll do your worruk meself, but ye shall have two -afternoons next week." And Joe Maxwell "stood by" Mr. Snelson the best -he could. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY-CLAUS" - - -Harbert's house on the Turner place was not far from the kitchen, and -the kitchen itself was only a few feet removed from the big house; in -fact, there was a covered passageway between them. From the back steps -of the kitchen two pieces of hewn timber, half buried in the soil, led -to Harbert's steps, thus forming, as the negro called it, a wet-weather -path, over which Mr. Turner's children could run when the rest of the -yard had been made muddy by the fall and winter rains. - -Harbert's house had two rooms and two fireplaces. One of the rooms -was set apart for him and his wife, while the other was used as a -weaving-room. In one Harbert used to sit at night and amuse the children -with his reminiscences and his stories; in the other Aunt Crissy used -to weave all day and sing, keeping time with the flying shuttle and the -dancing slays. The children might tire of their toys, their ponies, and -everything else, but they could always find something to interest them -in Harbert's house. There were few nights, especially during the winter, -that did not find them seated by the negro's white hearthstone. On -special occasions they could hardly wait to finish supper before going -out to see him. Sometimes they found Aunt Crissy there, and as she was -fat and good-humored--not to say jolly--she was always a welcome guest, -so far as the children were concerned. As for Harbert, it was all one to -him whether Aunt Crissy was present or not. To use his own sententious -phrase, she was welcome to come or she was welcome to stay away. -Frequently Joe Maxwell would go and sit there with them, especially when -he was feeling lonely and homesick. - -One evening, in the early part of December, the children hurried through -their supper of bread and butter and milk, and ran to Harbert's house. -Aunt Crissy was there, and her fat face and white teeth shone in the -firelight as she sat smiling at the youngsters. - -"I done got Chris'mas in my bones," she was saying, as Wattie and Willie -entered. - -"Well, I ain't g wine ter say dat," said Har-bert, "kaze I'm dat ole dat -I ain't got no roo-mance in my bones fer nothin' 'tall,'ceppin' 'tis -de rheumatism; yit dat don't hender Chris'mas, an' I ain't makin' no -deniance but what hit's in de a'r." - -"Now you er talkin'," exclaimed Aunt Crissy, with unction. "You mos' -sholy is." - -There was a little pause, and then Harbert cried out: - -"In de name er goodness, des lissen at dat!" - -What was it? The wind, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing like the -great waves of the sea, whistled under the eaves, and sighed mournfully -over the chimney. But it was not the wind that Harbert heard. There was -a sharp rattling on the shingles and a swift pattering at the windows. -Harbert and Aunt Crissy looked at each other and then at the children. - -"What is it?" asked Wattie, drawing a little closer to Harbert. - -"Pshaw! I know what it is," said Willie, "it's sleet." Harbert shook his -head gravely as he gazed in the fire. - -"It mought be," he said, "an' den agin it moughtn't. It mought be ole -Sandy Claus sorter skirmishin' roun' an' feelin' his way." - -"Trufe, too," said Aunt Crissy, falling in with the idea. "He moughtn't -want to skeer nobody, so he des let folks b'lieve tain't nothin' but -sleet. Dey tells me dat ole man Sandy Claus is monstus slick." - -"He bleedze ter be slick," remarked Har-bert, "kaze I bin livin' yere, -off an' on, a mighty long time, an' I ain't saw 'im yit. An' I let you -know hit got ter be a mighty slick man dat kin dodge me all dis time. He -got to be bofe slick an' peart." - -"Yasser," said Aunt Crissy, holding her apron up by the corner, and -looking at it thoughtfully; "he slick fer true. He light 'pon top er de -house same ez a jay-bird, an' dey ain't no scufflin' when he slide down -de chimberly." - -"Dey sez," said Harbert, in a reminiscent way--"dey sez dat he rubs -hisse'f wid goose-grease fer ter make he j'ints limber an' loose; when -he got dis yere grease on 'im dey can't nobody ketch 'im, kaze he'd slip -right out'n der han's." - -"I speck dat's so," said Aunt Crissy, "kaze one time when I wuz livin' -wid Marse Willyum Henry an' sleepin' in de house in time er Chris'mas, -I tuck'n he'p'd de chillun hang up der stockin's. After dey all got ter -bed, I sot by de fier a-noddin'. How long I sot dar I'll never tell you, -but all of a sudden I yeard a tumble racket. I gun a jump, I did, an' -open my eyes. De outside do' wuz open, an' stannin' dar wuz one er Marse -Willyum Henry's houn' dogs. He stood dar, he did, wid his bristles up, -an' dar in de middle er the flo' wuz de ole cat. Her back wuz all bowed -up, an' her tail"--here Aunt Crissy paused and looked all around the -room as if in search of something with which to compare the old cat's -tail--"I ain't tellin' you no lie; dat cat tail wuz bigger 'roun' dan my -arm!" - -"I don't 'spute it," exclaimed Harbert, with fervor, "dat I don't." - -"An' dat ain't all." Aunt Crissy closed her eyes and threw her head -back, as if to add emphasis to what she was about to say. "Dat ain't -all--dem ar stockin's wuz done fulled up wid goodies, an' dey wuz done -fulled up whilst I wuz a-settin' right dar." No style of type has yet -been invented that would convey even a faint idea of the impressive tone -in which Aunt Cissy made this startling announcement. - -"Ole Sandy wuz gittin' you in close quarters, mon," exclaimed Harbert. - -"Man, you er talkin' now," said Aunt Crissy. "I wuz settin' right spang -at de fier-place," she went on, describing her position with appropriate -gestures, "an' I could er des retched out my han'--so--an' totched de -stock-in's, an' yit,'spite er dat,'long come ole Sandy Claus, whilst I -wuz settin' dar noddin' an' fulled um up. Dat des what he done. He come, -he did, an' fulled um up right fo' my face. Ef my eyes had er des bin -open I'd a seed 'im, an' ef I'd a seed 'im, I'd a grabbed 'im right by -de coat-tail. Yasser! I'd a grabbed 'im ef he'd a kyar'd me up de -chimberly." - -Wattie and Willie listened open-mouthed, so intense was their interest; -and so, it may be said, did Joe Maxwell. But now Willie spoke: - -"Suppose you had caught him, Aunt Crissy, what would you have done -then?" - -"Shoo, honey! I'd a helt him hard an' fas': I'd a rastled wid 'im, an' -when he'gun ter git de better un me, I'd a squalled out same ez one -er dez yere wil' cats. I'd a squalled so loud I'd a fair 'larmed de -settlement." - -Aunt Crissy paused, folded her fat arms across her broad bosom and -looked in the fire. Harbert, with a long pair of tongs, as musical -as those that Shakespeare wrote about, put the noses of the chunks -together, and carefully placed a fat pine knot in the center. Then he -leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. - -"Well," said he, after a while, "I dunno ez I bin close to ole Sandy -Claus as what you is, Sis Crissy, but I bin mighty close, an' 'tain't -bin so mighty long ago needer. One night des 'fo' Chris'mas I wuz -gwine'long thoo de woods close by de Ward place. I wuz gwine'long, I -wuz, sorter studyin' wid myse'f 'bout whedder I ought ter hang up my -stockin's wid de res' er de folks, when, fus news I know, look like -I kin year de win' blowin'. Hit soun' so loud dat I stop right in my -tracks an ax mysef what de name er goodness is de matter. I ain't feel -no win' an' I ain't see no bush shakin', but up dar in de top er de -trees hit look like dey wuz a reg'lar hurrycane a blowin'. Man, sir! she -fair roared up dar, yit I ain't see no win', an' I ain't see no bush -a shakin'. Hit make me feel so quare dat ef a hick'y-nut had a drapped -any-whar nigh me, I'd a broke an' run fum dar like de Ole Boy wuz atter -me. Hit make me feel so funny dat I ain't know whedder it wuz ole man -Harbert out dar, or some yuther nigger dat done got los' in some new -country. I stood dar, I did, en des waited fer sump'n ner ter happen, -but bimeby de noise all quit, an' de roarin' died down, twel you could -a yeard a pin drop. I kotch my bref, I did, an' I'low ter myself dat -all dat racket up in de a'r dar mus' sholy a-bin ole Sandy Claus agwine -sailin' by. Dat what I had in my min', yit I ain't stop dar fer ter make -no inquirements. I des put out, I did, an' I went a polin' home, an' it -make me feel mighty good when I got dar." - -The children visited Harbert's house every night for several nights -before Christmas, but somehow they didn't seem to enjoy themselves. -Harbert was so busy with one thing and another that they felt themselves -in the way. They had the ardor and the hope of childhood, however, and -they continued their visits with persistent regularity. They were -very patient, comparatively speaking, and their patience was finally -rewarded. - -The night before Christmas, when their interests and expectations were -on the point of culmination, they found Harbert sitting in front of the -fire, his head thrown back and his hands folded in his lap; and before -the little ones could fix themselves comfortably, Aunt Crissy walked in -and flung herself into a chair. - -"_Whoo-ee!_" she exclaimed. "I'm dat tired dat I can't skacely drag one -foot 'fo' de yuther. Look like I bin on my feet mighty nigh a mont', dat -it do, an' I'm dat stiff, I feel like some er my lim's gwine ter break -in two. Dey ain't nothin' on dis plantation dat I ain't had my han's -in, 'specially ef it's work. It's Crissy yere, an Crissy dar, de whole -blessed time, an' I dun' ner what de lazy niggers'roun' yere would do ef -Crissy wuz to take a notion ter peg out. Mistiss got old Charity in de -kitchin' dar a-cookin' an' a-growlin', but when dey's any nice cookin' -ter be done, Crissy got ter go an' do it. I wouldn't mind it so much," -Aunt Crissy went on, "ef dem yuther niggers'd do like dey tuck some -intruss in what's gwine on, but you know yo'se'f, Brer Harbert, how -no'count dey is." - -"Ah, Lord! you nee'nt ter tell me, Sis Crissy, I know um; I know um -all. An' yit dey'll all be scrougin' one ane'r 'fo' day arter termorrow -mornin' fer ter see which gwine ter be de fus fer ter holler Chris'mas -gif' at marster an' mistiss. Now you watch um! dey'll all be dar, an' -dey ain't none un um skacely yearned der salt. I'm mighty nigh run down. -Dis mornin' de stock in de lot wuz a hollerin' fer der feed, an' it wuz -broad daylight at dat. Den dar wuz de milkin': hit wuz atter sun-up -'fo' dat Marthy Ann got ter de cow-pen. Dat gal blood kin ter you, Sis -Crissy, but I done laid de law down; I done tole'er dat de nex' time -she come creepin' out dat late, I wuz gwine to whirl in an' gi' 'er a -frailin', an' I'm gwine to do it ef de Lord spar's me." - -"Nummine'bout no kinnery, Brer Harbert," said Aunt Crissy, with -emphasis. "You des git you a brush an' wa'r dat gal out. She new han' -wid de cows, but tooby sho' she kin git out 'fo' sun-up." - -"I'm mighty glad," Harbert remarked, glancing at the children, who -were not at all interested in the "worriments" of those faithful -negroes--"I'm mighty glad dat Chris'mas is so nigh. De corn done in de -crib, de fodder in de barn, de cotton'n de gin-house, de hogs done kilt -an' put up, an' ef Charity ain't might'ly behindhand de turkey done in -de pot. Dat bein' de case, what mo' kin we ax,'ceptin' we git down yere -on de flo' an' ax a blessin'?" - -"Trufe, too!" exclaimed Aunt Crissy. "I ain't quollin', but dem niggers -is so owdacious lazy dat dey keeps me pestered." - -"Yasser!" continued Harbert, "de signs all look like deyer right. When I -sets right flat down an' run it all over, hit make me feel so good dat -I got a great mine fer ter hang up my sock right dar side er de -chimbly-jam, an' set up yere an' watch fer ter see ole Sandy Claus come -a-slidin' down. Ef his foot wuz ter slip, an' he wuz ter drap down on -dat pot-rack dar, I lay he'd wake up de whole plantation. My sock ain't -so mighty long in de leg," Harbert went on, reflectively, "but she -mighty big in de foot, an' ef ole Sandy Claus wuz ter take a notion fer -ter fill'er plum up, she'd lighten his wallet might'ly." - -"Did you ever hang up your stockings, Harbert?" asked Willie. - -"Why, tooby sho' honey," replied the negro, laughing. "I bin hang um up -way back yander 'fo' you wuz born'd. An' I used ter git goodies in um, -too. Lord! dem wuz times, sho' nuff. I used ter git goodies in um dem -days, but now I speck I wouldn't git so much ez a piece er 'lasses -candy. But, nummine'bout dat! I'll des take en hang um up dis night, an' -I'll be mighty glad ef I git a slishe er cracklin' bread. Dat kinder -bread good nuff for me,'specially when it right fresh." - -"Man, don't talk!" exclaimed Aunt Crissy. "Look like I kin in about -tas'e it now!" - -"Aunt Crissy, are you going to hang up your stockings?" asked Wattie. - -"Bless yo' soul, honey! I mos' got in de notion un it. Ef 'twan't dat I'm -a sleepin' up in old Granny Chaney house fer ter sorter keep'er comp'ny, -I speck I would hang um up. But dey tells me dat 'twon't do no good ef -you hang up yo' stockin's in some un else house. 'Sides dat, ole Granny -Chaney so restless dat she'd in about skeer old Sandy Claus off ef he 'uz -to start ter come. I'm a tellin' you de trufe, Brer Harbert, dat ole -creetur done got so dat she don't skacely close'er eyes fer sleep de -whole blessed night. She take so many naps endurin' 'er de day, dat when -night come she des ez wakeful ez dat ole black cat what stay up dar at -de barn." - -"Dat ole'oman gittin' ole, mon," said Har-bert. "She wuz done grown an' -had chillun when I wuz little baby. She lots older dan what I is, an' I -ain't no chicken myse'f. I speck ef she 'uz ter go back an' count up 'er -Chris-'mases, she done seed mighty nigh ez many ez what ole Sandy Claus -is." - -"Well," said Aunt Crissy, changing the subject, "I ain't gwine hang up -no stockin', kaze I speck dat whatsomever ole Sandy Claus got fer me, -he'll drap it som'rs in de big house, an' when I holler at marster an' -mistiss in de morn-in', dey'll fetch it out." - -"Dat's so," said Harbert. "Yit I got a mighty good notion fer ter hang -up mine an' take de resk. But I'd a heap ruther git sumpin' dat's too -big fer ter go in um." - -"Well, we are going to hang up our stockings," said Willie. "I'm going -to hang up both of mine, and Wattie says she's going to hang up both of -hers." - -"Dat's right, honey; an' if dat ain't 'nuff' whirl in an' hang up a -meal-sack. I done bin year tell 'fo' now 'bout folks what hang up great -big bags stidder der stocking. Whedder dey got any mo' dan t'er folks is -mo' dan I kin tell you." - -"Harbert," said Wattie, "do you reckon we'll git anything at all?" - -"Oh, I speck so," said the negro. "I ain't year talk er you bein' so -mighty bad dis long time. You cuts up scan'lous sometimes, but it's kaze -yo' buddy dar pesters you." - -This suggestion made Willie so angry that he threatened to go back to -the big house and go to bed, and he would have gone but for a remark -made by Aunt Crissy--a remark that made him forget his anger. - -"Dey tells me," said Aunt Crissy, in a sub-dued tone, "dat de cows know -when Chris'mas come, an' many's de time I year my mammy say dat when -twelve o'clock come on Chris'mas-eve night, de cows gits down on der -knees in de lot an' stays dat-away some little time. Ef anybody else had -er tole me dat I'd a des hooted at um, but, mammy, she say she done seed -um do it. I ain't never seed um do it myse'f, but mammy say she seed -um." - -"I bin year talk er dat myse'f," said Harbert, reverently, "an' dey -tells me dat de cattle gits down an' prays bekaze dat's de time when de -Lord an' Saviour wuz born'd." - -"Now, don't dat beat all!" exclaimed Aunt Crissy. "Ef de dumb creeturs -kin say der pra'rs, I dunner what folks ought ter be doin'." - -"An' dar's de chickens," Harbert went on--"look like dey know der's -sump'n up. Dis ve'y night I year de roosters crowin' fo' sev'n o'clock. -I year tell dat dey crows so soon in sign dat Peter made deniance un his -Lord an' Marster." - -"I speck dat's so," said Aunt Crissy. - -"Hit bleedze ter be so," responded the old man with the emphasis that -comes from conviction. - -Then he intimated that it was time for the children to go to bed if -they wanted to get up early the next morning to see what Sandy Claus had -brought. This was a suggestion the youngsters could appreciate, and they -scrambled out of the door and went racing to the big house. - -Before sunrise the plantation was in a stir. The negroes, rigged out in -their Sunday clothes, were laughing, singing, wrestling, and playing. -The mules and horses having been fed and turned in the pasture for -a holiday, were capering about; the cows were lowing in a satisfied -manner, the dogs were barking, the geese screaming, the turkeys -"yelping" and gobbling, and the chickens cackling. A venerable -billy-goat, with a patriarchal beard and the rings of many summers -marked on his broad and crumpled horns, had marched up one of the long -arms of the packing-screw and was now perched motionless on the very -pinnacle of that quaint structure, making a picturesque addition to the -landscape, as he stood outlined against the reddening eastern sky. - -Willie and Wattie were up so early that they had to feel for their -stockings in the dark, and their exclamations of delight, when they -found them well filled, aroused the rest of the household. By the time -breakfast was over the negroes were all assembled in the yard, and -they seemed to be as happy as the children, as their laughter and their -antics testified. Towering above them all was Big Sam, a giant in size -and a child in disposition. He was noted for miles around for his feats -of strength. He could shoulder a bale of cotton weighing five hundred -pounds, and place it on a wagon; and though he was proud of his ability -in this direction, he was not too proud to be the leader in all -the frolics. He was even fuller of laughter and good-humor than his -comrades, and on this particular morning, while the negroes were waiting -for the usual Christmas developments, Big Sam, his eyes glistening and -his white teeth shining, struck up the melody of a plantation play-song, -and in a few minutes the dusky crowd had arranged itself in groups, -each and all joining in the song. No musical director ever had a more -melodious chorus than that which followed the leadership of Big Sam. It -was not a trained chorus, to be sure, but the melody that it gave to the -winds of the morning was freighted with a quality indescribably touching -and tender. - -In the midst of the song Mr. Turner appeared on the back piazza, and -instantly a shout went up: - -"Chris'mas gif, marster! Chris'mas gif!" and then, a moment later, there -was a cry of "Chris'mas gif, mistiss!" - -"Where is Harbert?" inquired Mr. Turner, waving his hand and smiling. - -"Here me, marster!" exclaimed Harbert, coming forward from one of the -groups. - -"Why, you haven't been playing, have you?" - -"I bin tryin' my han', suh, an' I monst' us glad you come out, kaze I -ain't nimble like I useter wuz. Dey got me in de middle er dat ring dar, -an' I couldn't git out nohow." - -"Here are the store-room keys. Go and open the door, and I will be there -directly." - -It was a lively crowd that gathered around the wide door of the -store-room. For each of the older ones there was a stiff dram apiece, -and for all, both old and young, there was a present of some kind. The -presents were of a substantial character, too. Those who had made crops -of their own found a profitable market right at their master's door. -Some of them had made as much as two bales of cotton on the land -they were permitted to cultivate, while others had made good crops of -corn--all of which was bought by their master. - -Then the big six-mule wagon was brought into service, and into this was -packed the horse-collars, made of shucks and wahoo-bark, the baskets, -the foot-mats, the brooms, the walking-canes, and the axe-helves, that -were to find a market in the town nine miles away. - -In spite of the war, it was a happy time, and Joe Maxwell was as happy -as any of the rest. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS - - -All was peace on the plantation, but war has long arms, and it dropped -its gifts of poverty and privation in many a humble home with which Joe -Maxwell was familiar. War has its bill of fare, too, and much of it was -not to Joe's taste. For coffee there were various substitutes: sweet -potatoes, chipped and dried, parched meal, parched rye, parched -okra-seeds, and sassafras tea. Joe's beverage was water sweetened with -sorghum-sirup, and he found it a very refreshing and wholesome drink. -Some of the dishes that were popular in the old colonial days were -revived. There was persimmon bread; what could be more toothsome than -that? Yet a little of it went a long way, as Mr. Wall used to say. And -there was potato pone--sweet potatoes boiled, kneaded, cut into pones, -and baked. And then there was callalou--a mixture of collards, poke -salad, and turnip greens boiled for dinner and fried over for supper. -This was the invention of Jimsy, an old negro brought over from the West -Indies, whose real name was Zimzi, and who always ran away when anybody -scolded him. - -[Illustration: 0144] - -The old-fashioned loom and spinning-wheel were kept going, and the women -made their own dyes. The girls made their hats of rye and wheat straw, -and some very pretty bonnets were made of the fibrous substance that -grows in the vegetable known as the bonnet squash. - -It was agreed on all sides that times were very hard, and yet they -seemed very pleasant and comfortable to Joe Maxwell. He had never seen -money more plentiful. Everybody seemed to have some, and yet nobody had -enough. It was all in Confederate bills, and they were all new and fresh -and crisp. Joe had some of it himself, and he thought he was growing -rich. But the more plentiful the money became, the higher went the price -of everything. - -After a while Joe noticed that the older men became more serious. There -were complaints in the newspapers of speculators and extortioners--of -men who imposed on and mistreated the widows and wives of the soldiers. -And then there was a law passed preventing the farmers from planting -only so many acres of land in cotton, in order that more food might be -raised for the army. After this came the impressment law, which gave -the Confederate officials the right to seize private property, horses, -mules, and provisions. And then came the conscription law. - -There was discontent among the men who were at home, but they were not -left to make any serious complaints. One by one the conscript officers -seized all except those who were exempt and hurried them off to -the front. Those who thought it a disgrace to be conscripted either -volunteered or hired themselves as substitutes. - -This is the summing up of the first three years of the war, so far as -it affected Joe Maxwell. The impression made upon him was of slow and -gradual growth. He only knew that trouble and confusion were abroad in -the land. He could see afterward what a lonely and desperate period it -must have been to those who had kinsmen in the war; but, at that -time, all these things were as remote from him as a dream that is half -remembered. He set up the editor's articles, criticising Governor -Joe Brown for some attacks he had made on the Confederate Government, -without understanding them fully; and he left Mr. Wall, the hatter, who -was a violent secessionist, to discuss the situation with Mr. Bonner, -the overseer, who was a Whig, and something of a Union man. - -Late one afternoon, after listening to a heated dispute between Mr. Wall -and Mr. Bonner, Joe concluded that he would take a run in the fields -with the harriers. So he called and whistled for them, but they failed -to come. Harbert thought they had followed some of the plantation hands, -but, as this rarely happened, Joe was of the opinion that they had gone -hunting on their own account. They were very busy and restless little -dogs, and it was not uncommon for them to go rabbit-hunting for -themselves. Going toward Mr. Snelson's, Joe thought he could hear them -running a rabbit on the farther side of the plantation. He went in that -direction, but found, after a while, that they were running in the Jack -Adams place, and as he went nearer they seemed to get farther away. -Finally, when he did come up with the dogs, he found that they were not -the harriers at all, but a lot of curs and "fices." And then--how it -happened he was never able to explain--Joe suddenly discovered that he -was lost. - -Perhaps if the idea had never occurred to him he would never have been -lost, but the thought flashed in his mind and stayed there. He stood -still in his tracks and looked all around, but the idea that he was -really lost confused him. He was not frightened--he was not even uneasy. -But he knew he was lost. Everything was strange and confusing. Even -the sun, which was preparing to go to bed, was in the wrong place. Joe -laughed at himself. Certainly he could return the way he came, so he -faced about, as he thought, and started home. - -Walking and running he went forward rapidly, and he had need to, for the -sun had gone behind a cloud, and the cloud, black and threatening, was -rising and filling the sky. How long he had been going Joe did not know, -but suddenly he found himself near an old cabin. It was built of logs, -and the chimney, which had been made of sticks and red clay, had nearly -fallen down. The lad knew that this cabin was neither on the Turner -plantation nor on the Jack Adams place. He had never heard any of the -negroes allude to it, and he realized the fact that he had been running -away from home. - -Near the deserted house were the remnants of an orchard. A pear-tree, -jagged and unshapely, grew not far from the door, while an apple-tree, -with a part of its trunk rotted away, stood near a corner of the cabin. -A growth of pines and scrub-oak showed that the place had been deserted -for many a long year. A quarter of a mile away, through the gathering -darkness, Joe could see a white fringe gleaming against the horizon. He -knew that this was a fog, and that it rose from the river. Following -the line of the fog, he could see that the cabin was in a bend of the -river--the Horseshoe, as he had heard it called--and he knew that he was -at least four miles from home. By this time the cloud had covered all -the heavens. Away off in the woods he could hear the storm coming, -sounding like a long-drawn sigh at first, and then falling with a -sweeping rush and roar. Joe had no choice but to seek shelter in the old -house. He was a stout-hearted youngster, and yet he could not resist -the feeling of uneasiness and dread that came over him at the thought of -spending the night in that lonely place. But there was no help for it. -He could never find his way home in the darkness, and so he made the -best of what seemed to him a very bad matter. The cabin was almost a -wreck, but it served to keep off the rain. - -Joe went in and explored the inside as carefully as he could in the -darkness. A wood-rat or flying-squirrel rattled along the rafters as he -entered, and the loose puncheons of which the floor was made bumped up -and down as he walked across them. In one corner, as he went groping -about, he found a pile of shucks--corn-husks--and straw, and he judged -that the old cabin had sometimes been used as a temporary barn. After -satisfying himself that no other person or creature had taken shelter -there, Joe tried to close the door. He found this to be a difficult -matter. The sill of the house had settled so that the door was on the -floor. He pushed it as far as it would go, and then groped his way back -to the shucks and quickly made a bed of them. He was fagged out, and the -shucks and straw made a comfortable pallet--so comfortable, indeed, that -by the time he had made up his mind that it was a pleasant thing to lie -there and listen to the rain rushing down on the weather-beaten roof, he -was fast asleep. - -How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly he awoke to discover -that he was not the only person who had sought shelter in the cabin. The -rain was still falling on the roof, but he could hear some one talking -in a low tone. He lay quite still and listened with all his ears. He -soon discovered that the new-comers were negroes, whether two or three -he could not tell. Presently he could distinguish what they said. The -storm had ceased so that it no longer drowned their voices. - -"I tell you what, mon," said one, "ole Injun Bill kin run ef he is -chunky." - -"Lor'! I had ter run ef I gwine fer keep up wid old Mink." said the -other. - -"Bless you!" responded the first voice, "I kin run when I git de -invertation, else ole Bill Locke an' his nigger dogs would a done cotch -me long ago." - -"Dey ain't been atter me," said the second voice, "but I'm a spectin' -un um eve'y day, an' when dey does--gentermen! I'm a-gwine ter scratch -gravel! You hear what I tell you!" - -"I come so fas'," remarked the first voice, "dat all dem ar buckeyes -what I had done bounce outer my pocket." - -"What you gwine fer do wid so many buckeyes?" asked the second voice. - -"Who? Me! Oh, I wuz des savin' um up fer dat ar white boy what stay 'long -wid de printin' machine," said the first voice. "He holp me 'long one -time. Harbert, he say dat white boy is des ez good ter niggers ez ef -dey all b'long ter im, an' he say he got a head on 'im. Dat what Harbert -say." - -"I bin see 'im," said the second voice. "I don't like white folks myse'f, -but I speck dat boy got good in 'im. He come fum town." - -Joe Maxwell knew at once that one of the voices belonged to Mink, the -runaway, and he judged that the other belonged to Injun Bill, whose -reputation was very bad. He knew also that the two negroes were talking -about him, and he was not only gratified at the compliments paid him, -but felt safer than if he had been alone in the cabin. In a spirit of -mischief he called out in a sepulchral tone of voice: - -"Where's Mink? I want Mink!" - -He tried to imitate the tone that he had heard mothers sometimes employ -when they are trying to frighten crying children into silence with the -bogie man. There was no reply from Mink, but Joe could hear the two -negroes breathing hard. Then, imitating the voice of a woman, he cried -out: - -"Where's Injun Bill? I want Injun Bill!" - -[Illustration: 0153] - -Imagining how horrified the negroes were, and how they looked as they -sat on the floor quaking with terror, Joe could not restrain himself. -He fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that caused him to scatter -the shucks all over the floor. This proceeding, wholly unaccountable, -added to the terror of the negroes. Injun Bill, as it afterward -appeared, made a wild leap for the door, but his foot caught in a crack -in the floor and he fell headlong. On top of him fell Mink, and each -thought he had been caught by the thing that had frightened him. They -had a terrific scuffle on the floor, writhing over and under each other -in their efforts to escape. Finally, Mink, who was the more powerful of -the two, pinned Injun Bill to the floor. - -"Who dis?" he cried, breathing hard with fear and excitement. - -"Me! Dat who 'tis!" said Injun Bill, angrily. "What you doin' 'pon top -er me?" - -This complication caused Joe Maxwell to laugh until he could scarcely -catch his breath. But at last he managed to control his voice. - -"What in the name of goodness are you two trying to do?" - -"Name er de Lord!" exclaimed Mink, "who is you, anyhow?" - -"Dat what I like ter know," said Injun Bill, in a surly tone. - -"Why, you've just been talking about me," replied Joe. "I lay there on -the shucks and heard you give me a great name." - -"Is dat you, little marster?" cried Mink. "Well, suh! Ef dat don't beat -my time! How come you sech a fur ways fum yo' surroundin's?" - -Joe explained as briefly as possible that he was lost. - -"Well, well, well!" said Mink, by way of comment. "You sholy gimme a -turn dat time. Little mo' an' I'd a thought de ole boy had me. Ef I'd a -bin by myse'f when I hear dat callin' I lay I'd'a to' down de whole side -er de house. Dish yer nigger 'long wid me, little marster, he name Injun -Bill. He say--" - -"'Sh--sh!" said Injun Bill, softly. Then in a whisper--"watch out!" - -Joe was about to say something, but suddenly he heard the sound of -approaching footsteps. The negroes by a noiseless movement stepped close -against the wall. Joe lay still. The new-comers entered the door without -hesitation. They had evidently been there before. - -"I'll take an' put my gun in the corner here," said one. "Now, don't go -blunderin' aroun' an' knock it over; it might go off." - -"All right," said the other. "Where is it? I'll put mine by it." - -Then they seemed to be unfastening their belts. - -"Hain't you got a match?" said one. "I'm as wet as a drownded rat. -I've got some kindlin' somewheres about my cloze. My will, ef I had it -fried," he went on, "would be to be set down in front of a great big -fireplace adryin' myse'f, an' a knowin' all the time that a great big -tray of hot biscuit an' 'leven pounds of butter was a waitin' for me in -the kitchen." - -"Thunderation!" exclaimed the other, "don't talk that way. You make me -so nervous I can't find the matches." - -"Oh, well," said the first, "I was jist a think-in' about eatin'. I wish -Mink'ud come on ef he's a-comin'." - -"I done come, Mars John," said Mink. - -"Confound your black hide!" exclaimed the man; "if I had my gun I'd -shoot a hole spang throo you! Whadder you want to skeer me outn a year's -growth for? If you're here, whyn't you sesso befo' you spoke?" - -"Kaze I got comp'ny," said Mink. - -The man gave a long whistle, denoting surprise. "Who've you got?" he -asked, almost savagely. - -"Injun Bill." - -"Who else?" - -"A white boy." - -"Well, the great snakes! What sort of game is you up to? Who is the -white boy?" - -"He stay on the Turner plantation at de printin'-office," explained -Mink. - -"You hear that, don't you?" said the man to his companion. "And now -it'll all be in the paper." - -"Bosh!" exclaimed Joe. "I don't know you from a side of sole-leather. I -got lost while rabbit-hunting, and came in here out of the rain." - -"He's a peart-talkin' chap," said the man who wanted to eat a trayful of -hot biscuits and eleven pounds of butter. - -"He came fum town," said Mink, by way of explaining Joe's "peartness." - -"How long since?" asked one of the men. - -"Two years ago," said Joe. - -After a little, one of the men succeeded in finding a match, and making -a light with the pine kindlings that one of the two had brought. In a -corner Mink found some pieces of dry wood and the small company soon had -a fire burning. The weather was not cold, but the fire must have been -very agreeable to the white men, who, as one of them expressed it, was -"wringin, wet." These men took advantage of the first opportunity to -examine Joe Maxwell very closely. They had evidently expected to find a -much more formidable-looking person than he appeared to be, for one of -them remarked to the other: - -"Why, he hain't bigger'n a pound er soap arter a hard day's washin'." - -"Naw!" said the other. "I've saw 'im be-fo'. He's that little rooster -that useter be runnin' roun' town gittin' in all sorts er devilment. I -reckon he's sorter out er his element here in the country." - -"I've seen you, too," said Joe. "I've seen both of you. I used to see -you drilling in the Hillsborough Rifles. I was at the depot when the -company went off to the war." - -The two men looked at each other in a peculiar way, and busied -themselves trying to dry their clothes by the fire, standing close to -the flickering flames. They were not handsome men, and yet they were -not ill looking. One was short and stout, with black hair. He had a -scar under one of his eyes that did not improve his appearance. But the -expression of his face was pleasant in spite of this defect. The other -was thin, tall, and stoop-shouldered. His beard was scanty and red, and -his upper teeth protruded to such an extent that when his face was in -repose they were exposed to view. But there was a humorous twinkle in -his eyes that found an echo in his talk. Both men were growing gray. The -dark man was Jim Wimberly, the other John Pruitt, and both had evidently -seen hard times. Soldier-fashion, they made seats for themselves by -sticking the ends of loose boards through the cracks, and allowing the -other ends to rest on the floor. Thus they could sit or lie at full -length as they chose. Joe fixed a seat for himself in the same -way, while Mink and Injun Bill sat on the floor on each side of the -fireplace. - -"What do you call those here fellers," asked Mr. Pruitt, lighting his -pipe with a splinter, and turning to Joe--"these here fellers what -jines inter the army an' then comes home arter awhile without lief or -license?" - -"Deserters," replied Joe, simply. - -"So fur, so good." said Mr. Pruitt. "Now, then, what do you call the -fellers what jines inter the army arter they'er been told that their -families'll be took keer of an' provided fer by the rich folks at home; -an' then, arter they'er been in a right smart whet, they gits word -that their wives an' children is a lookin' starvation in the face, an' -stedder gittin' better it gets wuss, an' bimeby they breaks loose -an' comes home? Now what sort er fellers do you call them? Hold on!" -exclaimed Mr. Pruitt, as Joe was about to reply. "Wait! They hain't got -no money an' no niggers; they hain't got nothin' but a little piece er -lan'. They goes off expectin' their wives'll be took keer of, an' they -comes home an' fines 'em in the last stages. What sorter fellers do you -call them?" - -"Well," Joe replied, "I've never heard of such a thing before." - -"No," said Mr. Pruitt, "an' I'm mighty sorry you've heard about it now. -It ain't a purty tale." - -"Who are the men?" Joe asked. - -"Yours, respectfully, John Pruitt an' Jeems Wimberly, Ashbank deestrict, -Hillsborough Post-Office, State of Georgia," said Mr. Pruitt, solemnly. - -Joe had heard it hinted and rumored that in some cases, especially -where they lived remote from the relief committees, the families of the -soldiers were not so well provided for as they had a right to expect. -He had even set up some editorials in _The Countryman_ which hinted that -there was suffering among the soldiers' wives and children; but he -never dreamed that it was serious enough to create discontent among the -soldiers. The story that Mr. Pruitt and his companion told amazed Joe -Maxwell, but it need not be repeated here in detail. It amounted -to this, that the two soldiers had deserted because their wives and -children were suffering for food and clothing, and now they were -fugitives. - - - - -CHAPTER X--THE STORY-TELLERS - - -The strange company was silent for a long time. Mr. Pruitt and Mr. -Wimberly sat with their elbows on their knees and their faces in their -hands, and gazed into the fireplace, while the two negroes, true to -their nature, began to nod as the talking ceased. The silence at last -became painful to Joe Maxwell. - -"Mink," he said, "suppose you should hear somebody coming, what would -you do?" - -"I wuz des worryin' 'bout dat 'while ago," replied the stalwart negro, -passing his hand swiftly across his face. "I 'speck I'd be like de ole -sheep you hear talk about in de tale." - -"What was the tale?" asked Joe. - -"Oh,'tain't no long tale," said Mink. "One time dey wuz er ole sheep -what had two chilluns. She call um up one day an' tell um dat dey better -keep a sharp lookout whiles dey er eating kaze ef dey don't sumpin' n'er -sholy gwine git um. Dey say 'Yessum,' an' dey went ter frolickin' up an' -down de fiel'. Bimeby dey come runnin' back, an' 'low: "'Oh, mammy, -yon's, a man! Mus' we-all run?' - -[Illustration: 0163] - -"Ole mammy sheep, she 'low: 'No! Go 'long and play.' - -"Atter while, dey come runnin' back an' low: 'Mammy, mammy! yon's a -hoss! Mus' we all run?' - -"Ole mammy sheep 'low: ''G'way frum here! Go on an' play.' - -"Bimeby dey come runnin' back. 'Mammy, mammy! yon's a cow! Mus' we all -run?' - -"Ole mammy sheep say: 'Go on an' play, an' quit yo' behavishness!' - -"Atter while dey come runnin' back. 'Mammy! oh, mammy! yon's a dog! Mus' -we-all run?' - -"'Yes, yes! Run, chillun, run!' - -"Dat de way wid me," said Mink. "Ef I wuz ter hear some un cornin' I -wouldn't know whedder ter set still an' nod, or whedder ter break an' -run." - -"That hain't much of a tale," remarked Mr. Pruitt, "but ther's a mighty -heap er sense in it, shore." - -"Shoo!" exclaimed Mink, "dat ain't no tale. You oughter hear dish -yer Injun Bill tell um. He kin set up an' spit um out all night -long.--Bill," said he, turning to his companion, "tell um dat un 'bout -how de mountains come 'bout." - -"Oh, I can't tell de tale," said Injun Bill, marking nervously in the -floor with a splinter. "Ef I could tell dem like my daddy, den dat 'ud -sorter be like sumpin'. Me an' my mammy come from Norf Ca'liny. My daddy -wuz Injun, Ef you could hear him tell dem tales, he'd make you open yo' -eyes." - -"How wuz de mountains made, Bill?" asked Mink, after a pause. - -"I wish I could tell it like my daddy," said Bill. "He wuz Cher'kee -Injun, an' he know all 'bout it, kaze he say de Injuns wuz here long -time fo' de white folks wuz, let 'lone de niggers. - -"Well, one time dey wuz a great big flood. Hit rain so hard an' it rain -so long dat it fair kivver de face er de yeth. Dey wuz lots mo' water -dan what dey is in our kind er freshets, an' it got so atter while dat -de folks had ter find some place whar dey kin stay, kaze ef dey don't -dey all be drownded, dem an' de cree-turs, too. - -"Well, one day de big Injun man call dem all up, an' say dey got ter -move. So dey tuck der cloze an' der pots an' der pans an' foller 'long -atter de big Injun, an' de creeters dey come 'long, too. Dey march an' -dey march, an' bimeby dey come whar dey wuz a big hole in de groun'. Dey -march in an' de big Injun he stay behine fer stop up de hole so de water -can't leak in. 'Twant long 'fo' dey know dey wuz in de middle er de -worl', deep down under de groun', an' dey had plenty room. Dey built -der fires an' cook der vittles des same ez ef dey'd a been on top er de -groun'. - -"Dey stayed in dar I dunner how long, an' bimeby dey got tired er -stayin' in dar, an' dey want ter come out. Some un um went off fer hunt -fer de hole whar dey come in at, but dey can't fine it, an' den dey say -dey skeered dey ain't never gwine ter git out. But de big Injun say dey -plenty time, kaze fo' dey go out dey got ter know whedder de rain done -stop. He say ef de smoke kin git out dey kin git out. Den dey ax 'im -how he gwine fine out 'bout de rain, an' he say he gwine sen' some er de -creeturs fer fine de hole whar de smoke go out, an' see 'bout de rain. - -"Den de big Injun he went off by hisse'f an' study an' study how he -gwine fine de hole whar de smoke go out. He sent de dog--de dog can't -fine it. He sent de coon--de coon can't fine it. He sent de rabbit--de -rabbit can't fine it. Den he went off by hisse'f an' study some mo', an' -'bout dat time de buzzud come 'long an' he ax de big Injun what make him -look so lonesome. - -[Illustration: 0167] - -"Den de big Injun tell de buzzud 'bout 'im tryin' fer fine de hole whar -de smoke went fru. De buzzud he 'low dat him an' his ole 'oman kin fine -it, an' den de big Injun tuck an' sent um off. - -"Dey riz up, de buzzuds did, an' flewd de way de smoke went. Dey flewd -up an' dey flewd down, an' dey flewd all 'roun' an' 'roun,' but dey -ain't seed no hole whar de smoke go out at. Den dey come back, an' dis -make de big Injun feel mo' lonesomer dan befo'. He study an' he study, -un' bimeby he sent um out agin, an' tole um ter go high ez dey kin an' -spy out de hole. - -"So dey riz an' flewd up agin, an' dis time dey flewd right agin de top -er de yeth, up an' down an' 'roun' an' 'roun'. It bin rainin' so long -dat de crust er de yeth wuz done wet plum fru, an' it wuz saft, an' when -dey struck agin it dey made de print whar dey bin fly in'. Bimeby, de -old man buzzud, he got mad, an' he sail 'roun' twel he git a good start, -an' den he plow right 'long agin de roof. De ol' 'oman buzzud, she done -de same, an' bimeby dey fine de hole whar de smoke went out. Dey peeped -out, dey did, an' dey seed dat de rain done stop, but it monstus damp -outside. - -"Den dey went back an' de big Injun feel mighty good kaze dey done fine -de hole. After so long a time he giv de word, an' dey all marched out -fum de inside er de yeth an' went back ter whar dey useter live. It tuck -um a mighty long time ter fine de place, kaze when dey went away de lan' -wuz level, but when dey come back hit wuz full er hills an' mountains -dat look like great big bumps an' long ridges. Dey ax dey se'f how come -dis, an' dey study an' study. Bimeby de buzzud, he up'n say dat dem wuz -de print he lef' when him an' his ole 'oman wuz a-flyin' roun' tryin' -fer fine de hole whar de smoke went out. De groun' wuz saft, an' eve'y -time de buzzuds 'ud fly agin it dey'd make hills an' mountains. Dat what -my daddy say," said Injun Bill, decisively. "He wuz Injun man, an' he -oughter know ef anybody do." - -"What did I tell you?" exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, who, up to this time, -had said nothing. "Mix Injun wi' nigger an' they hain't no kind er -rigamarole they won't git up." - -They all agreed, however, that Injun Bill's story was amusing, and after -a while Mink said: - -"I speck Marse John dar mought match dat tale ef he wuz ter try right -hard." - -Mr. Pruitt turned his pocket inside out to get some tobacco-crumbs for -his pipe. - -"Buddy," he remarked, turning to Joe Maxwell, "did you ever hear tell -how the fox gits rid er fleas?" - -Joe had never heard. - -"Weil," said Mr. Pruitt, "it's this away. When the fox, speshually -ef it's one er these here big reds, gits full er fleas, which they er -bleedze ter do in hot weather, he puts out an' goes tell he finds a -flock er sheep. Then he runs in amongst 'em, an' runs along by the side -er one tell he gits a chance ter pull a mouffle er wool out. Then he -makes a break fer the creek an' finds him a wash-hole an' wades in. - -"He don't, ez you may say, splunge in. He jest wades in, a little bit at -a time. Fust he gits in up ter his knees, an' then he goes in deeper -an' deeper. But he hain't in no hurry. When the water strikes the fleas, -nachally they start fer high-water mark. The fox feels 'em crawl up, an' -then he goes in a little deeper. When they crawl up ez high ez his back -he goes in furder, an' then they-crawl to'rds his head. He gits a little -deeper, an' they crawl out on his nose. Then he gits deeper, tell they -hain't nothin' out er the water but the pint er his nose. - -"Now all this time he's got that chunk er wool in his mouf, an' when the -fleas hain't got nowheres else ter go they make fer that. Then when -the fleas is all in the wool, the fox drops it in the water, comes out, -shakes hisse'f, an' trots off ter do some other devilment." - -"Dat cert'ny is one way fer ter git red er fleas," exclaimed Mink, -laughing heartily. Then he turned to Injun Bill. - -"Bill, what tale is dat I been hear you tell 'bout ole Brer Rabbit an' -de overcoat? Dat ain't no nigger tale." - -"Naw!" said Injun Bill, contemptuously. "Dat ain't no nigger tale. My -daddy tell dat tale, an' he wa'nt no nigger. I wish I could tell it like -I near him tell it." - -"How did it go?" asked Mr. Wimberly. - -"Well," said Injun Bill, rolling his eyes to-ward the rafters, "it -sorter run dis way, nigh ez I kin reckermember: De time wuz when Mr. -Beaver wuz de boss er all de creeturs. He wa'nt de biggest ner de -strongest, but he wuz mighty smart. Fine cloze make fine folks in -dem days, an' dat what Mr. Beaver had. Eve'ybody know him by his fine -overcoat. He look slick all de week, an' he mighty perlite--he ain't -never fergit his manners. Mr. Rabbit see all dis an' it make 'im feel -jealous. He dunner how come Mr. Beaver kin be sech a big man, an' he -study how he gwine make hisse'f populous wid de yuther creeturs. - -"One time dey all make it up dat dey wuz gwine ter have a big meetin', -an' so dey 'gun ter fix up. De word went 'roun' an' all de creeturs make -ready ter come. Mr. Beaver he live up in de mountains, an' it wuz lots -mo' dan a day's journey fum his house ter de place whar de creeturs -gwine ter hoi' der big meetin'. But he waz bleedze ter be dar, kaze he -de head man. Ole Mr. Rabbit 'low ter hisse'f dat sumpin' got ter be done, -an' dat mighty quick, an' so he put out fer Mr. Beaver house. Mr. Rabbit -sho is a soon mover, mon, an' he git dar in little er no time. He say -dey all so 'fraid Mr. Beaver ain't comin' ter de meetin' dat dey sont -'im atter 'im, an' he help Mr. Beaver pack his kyarpet-bag, an' went on -back wid 'im fer comp'ny. - -"Mr. Beaver can't git 'long ez peart ez Mr. Rabbit, kaze he so fat -an' chunky, yit he don't lose no time; he des keep gwine fum sunup -ter sundown. Des 'fo' dark dey come ter whar dey wuz a river, an' Mr. -Rabbit, he 'low dey better camp out on de bank, an' git soon start in de -mornin'. So dey built up a fier, an' cook der supper, an' 'bout de time -dey wuz gittin' ready ter go ter bed Mr. Rabbit 'low: - -"'Brer Beaver, I mighty feared we gwine ter have trouble dis night!' Mr. -Beaver say, 'How comes so, Brer Rabbit?' - -"Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Dis country what we er in is called Rainin' Hot -Embers, an' I don't like no sech name. Dat de reason I wanter stop close -ter water.' - -"Mr. Beaver ax, 'What de name er goodness we gwine do, Brer Rabbit?' - -"Mr. Rabbit sorter scratch his head an' say, 'Oh, we des got ter put up -wid it, an' do de bes' we kin.' Den he sorter study, an' 'low: 'I speck -you better pull off dat fine overcoat er yourn, Brer Beaver, an' hang it -up in de tree dar, kaze ef de wuss come ter de wuss, you sholy want ter -save dat.' - -"Den Mr. Beaver tuck off his overcoat an' hang it up in de tree, an' -atter while dey lay down fer ter take a nap. Mr. Rabbit he stay wake, -but twa'nt long 'fo' Mr. Beaver wuz done gone ter sleep an' snorin' -right along. He sno' so loud dat Mr. Rabbit laugh ter hisse'f, an' 'low: -'Hey! Ole Brer Beaver pumpin' thunder fer dry wedder, but we gwine ter -have some rain, an' it'll be a mighty hot rain, mon.' - -"Den Mr. Rabbit raise hisse'f on his elbow an' look at Mr. Beaver. He -soun' asleep, an' he keep on a snorin'. Mr. Rabbit got up easy, an' -slipped roun' an' got 'im a great big piece er bark, an' den he slip -back ter de fier an' run de piece er bark un' de hot embers des like it -wuz a shovel. He flung um up in de air, he did, an' holler out: - -"'Run fer de water, Brer Beaver! run fer de water! It's a rainin' hot -embers! Run, Brer Beaver! run!' - -"De hot embers drapped on Mr. Beaver, an' he scuffled 'bout mightily. -Time Mr. Rabbit hollered, he flung an'er shower er embers on 'im, an' -Mr. Beaver gun one loud squall an' splunged inter de water head over -heels. Mr. Rabbit grab de fine overcoat an' run down de bank twel he -come ter whar dey wuz a canoe, an' he got in dat an' went cross, an' den -he put out ter whar de creeturs gwine ter hol' der big meetin'. Des 'fo' -he got dar, he put on de overcoat, an' he ain't do it none too soon, -nudder, kaze some un um had done got so unpatient 'long er waitin' fer -Mr. Beaver dat dey went out on de road a little fer ter meet 'im. - -"De overcoat wuz lots too big fer Mr. Rabbit, but it bin sech a long -time sence de creeturs had seed Mr. Beaver dat it look all right ter -dem, an' so dey gallanted Mr. Rabbit ter de meetin'-place same like he -wuz big man ez Mr. Beaver. Dey tuck 'im dar an' gallanted 'im up on de -flatform, an' sot 'im down in de big cheer, an' made 'im de boss er de -meetin'. Mr. Rabbit 'gun ter speak an' tell um he mighty much 'blige fer -all deze favers, an' 'bout dat time Mr. Fox 'low: - -"'Hey! Mr. Beaver done los' his voice!'" - -[Illustration: 0175] - -"Mr. Rabbit say he can't have no talkin', an' he kep on wid his speech. -Bimeby Mr. Wolf say: 'Hey! Mr. Beaver bin sick, kaze his cloze ain't -fit 'im.' Mr. Rabbit say he bleeze ter have order in de 'sembly, an' he go -on wid his speech. 'Twan't long 'fo' Mr. Fox jump an' holler out: - -"'Hey! Mr. Beaver done bought 'im some new years!' - -"Mr. Rabbit cock up one eye, an' see dat bofe er his long years done -come out fum un' de overcoat, an' den he know dat he better be gwine. He -make er break, he did, an' bounced off'n de flatform, an' start fer de -bushes, but some er de yuther creeturs head 'im off an' kotched 'im, an' -den dey tuck 'im an' tried 'im, an' de jedge what sot on 'im say he mus' -have mark on 'im so he can't fool um no mo'. Den dey tuck er sharp flint -rock an' split his upper lip, an' dat how de rabbits is got der lip -split." - -"Shoo!" said Mink. "Dat Injun rabbit. Nigger rabbit would 'a' fooled dem -creeturs right straight along, an' he wouldn't 'a' bin cotch, nudder." - -"Jim," said Mr. Pruitt to Mr. Wimberly, "would it strain you too much -ter whirl in an' tell us a tale? We wanter show this young un here that -country folks hain't ez no 'count ez they look ter be." - -"Jesso!" exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, with much animation. "I wuz jest -a-thinkin' about one that popped in my min'. It ain't much of a tale, -but it tickled me might'ly when I fust heard it, an' I hain't never -fergot it." - -"Well," said Mr. Pruitt, "out wi' it. It ain't nigh bedtime, an' ef it -wuz we hain't got no beds ter go ter--that is, we hain't got none ter -speak of." - -"One time," Mr. Wimberly began, smacking his lips, "there wuz a man what -took the idee that he had done gone an' larnt ever' blessid thing under -the sun that thar' wuz ter larn, and it worried him might'ly. He took -the idee wi' 'im ever 'whar he went. Folks called 'im Ole Man Know-all. -He sarched in ever' hole an' cornder arter sump'n that he didn't know, -but, hunt whar he would an' when he might, he couldn't fin' it. It -looked like he know'd ever'-thing ther' wuz an' had been. Nobody -couldn't tell 'im nothin' that he didn't know, an' it made 'im feel -mighty lonesome. He studied an' studied, an' at last he said ter -hisse'f, sezee, that ef thar' wan't nothin' more fer 'im ter larn, he -jest might ez well lay down an' die. He said ter hisse'f, sezee, that -may be Grandsir Death could larn 'im sumpin. Jesso! - -"Well, he went home one night an' built 'im up a big fire an' fixed his -pallet an' lay down. 'I won't lock the door,' sezee; 'I'll jist leave -it onlatched so Grandsir Death can come in, an' maybe he can larn me -sump'n.' Jesso! - -"Ole Man Know-all lay thar on the pallet an' waited. He'd doze a little -an' then he'd wake up, an' he rolled an' tossed about tell purty nigh -day. He wan't oneasy, so to speak, but he wuz mighty restless. To'rds -mornin' he heard some un knock on his door--bam-bam! bam-bam! He wan't -skeered, but he got right weak. His mouth got dry, an' a big holler -place come in his stomach. He sez ter hisse'f, sezee, 'Shorely that's -Grandsir Death at the door.' Then he kivvered up his head an' shuck all -over. 'Twan't long 'fo' the knock come agin: - -"Bim-bim! bim-bim! bim! - -"Ole Man Know-all thought his time wuz done come, certain an' shore, an' -so he hollered: - -"'Come in!' - -"The door opened, but stedder it's bein' Grandsir Death it wuz a little -nigger boy. Ole Man Know-all sez, sezee: - -"'What you want this time er night?' - -"The little nigger boy sez, sezee, 'Mammy sent me arter some fier.' - -"Old Man Know-all told 'im ter come in an' git it. The little nigger boy -went in an' started ter the fireplace. - -"'They ain't no chunks thar,' sez Ole Man Know-all. 'Go git a shovel.' - -"'Don't want no shovel,' sez the little nigger. - -"' How you gwine ter take it?' sez Old Man Know-all. - -"'Easy enough,' sez the little nigger. - -"Ole Man Know-all turned over an' watched 'im. He went ter the h'ath, -filled the palm er one hand full er dead ashes, made a little nest in -the middle, an' then picked up a fire-coal this way." - -Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Wimberly picked up a glowing coal of -fire, dropped it in the palm of his hand, whirled it around rapidly, -and then neatly transferred it to the bowl of his pipe, where it lay -glowing. - -"The little nigger picked up the coal that way," Mr. Wimberly continued, -"an' then he started out. Ole Man Know-all hollered at 'im. - -"'Hol' on!' sezee; 'how you gwine ter kindle a fire from jest one coal?' - -"'Easy enough,' sez the little nigger. - -"Ole Man Know-all jumped up an' follered 'im, an' when the little nigger -come ter his mammy's house he got two fat pine splinters, picked up the -coal er fire wi' 'em jest ez ef they'd 'a' been tongs, whirled it once-t -er twice-t aroun' his head, an' thar wuz the blaze. - -"'Well,' sez Ole Man Know-all, 'I'm mighty glad Grandsir Death gimme the -go-by last night,'cause I've larnt sump'n new. An' I reckon, ef I keep -my eyes open, I can larn lots more.' Jesso!" - -"I've saw folks that thought they know'd it all," said Mr. Pruitt, "an' -it most inginer'lly happens that all what they know wouldn't make the -linin' fer a bug's nest." - -There was some further talk, in which Joe Maxwell joined, or thought he -did, and then the cabin and all its occupants seemed to fade before his -eyes. He seemed, as in a dream, to hear Mr. Pruitt say that he wished to -the Lord that his little boy was as healthy and as well fed as the boy -from town, and Joe thought he heard the deserter telling his companions -of the desperate condition in which he found his wife and two little -children, who were living in a house remote from any settlement. The -lad, much interested in this recital, opened his eyes to ask Mr. Pruitt -some of the particulars, and, lo! it was morning. The fire was out, and -the deserters and negroes had disappeared. In the east the sky -glowed with the promise of the sun, the birds were singing in the old -apple-trees, and the cows were lowing. In the distance Joe could hear -the plow-hands singing as they rode to their tasks, and, when the sound -of their song had died away, he thought he could hear, ever so faintly, -the voice of Harbert calling his hogs. - -Mink had told Joe where he was, and how to get home, and he had no -difficulty in finding his way. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--THE RELIEF COMMITTEE - - -Joe Maxwell was very tired the day after his experience in the cabin -with the deserters and the runaways, but he was not too tired to -joyfully accept an invitation to visit Hillsborough with the editor of -_The Countryman_. For months the town had been practically in a state of -siege. As the war progressed, it had been made a hospital station. The -old temperance hall and many of the other buildings in the town had been -fitted up for the accommodation of the sick and wounded. There were also -many refugees in Hillsborough from Tennessee and north Georgia. While -the town was crowded, the small-pox broke out, and for a month or more -the country people were prevented from going there. Guards were placed -on all the roads leading into the town; but this was not necessary, for -the country people were not anxious to visit the place when they learned -of the small-pox. Hillsborough was placed under martial law, and a -provost-marshal given charge of affairs. This was necessary, not only to -control the small-pox, but to control the convalescing soldiers, among -whom were some very rough characters. - -Joe had stayed away so long that the town seemed to be new to him. The -playground in front of the old school-house was full of dingy hospital -huts; the stores with which he had been familiar had been put to new -and strange uses; and there were strange faces everywhere. Squads of -soldiers were marching briskly here and there; men with crutches at -their sides, or bandages on their heads, or with their arms in slings, -were sunning themselves on every corner. Everything was strange. Even -the old china-trees under which Joe had played hundreds of times had an -unfamiliar look. Dazed and confused, the lad sat down on one of the long -benches that were placed along the wall in front of some of the stores. -The bench was tilted back against the wall, and one end of it was -occupied by two men who were engaged in earnest conversation. Joe paid -little attention to them at first, but a word or two that he heard -caused him to observe them more closely. One of them was Mr. Deometari, -the Greek exile and lawyer; the other was a man whom Joe did not know. -He noticed that, although Mr. Deometari wore a faded and shabby uniform, -his linen was spotless. His cuffs and shirt-bosom shone in the sun, and -the setting of a heavy ring on his chubby finger sparkled like a star. -"He has forgotten me," Joe thought, and he sat there determined not to -make himself known, although he and Mr. Deometari had been great friends -before the lad left Hillsborough. - -"There's another thing I'm troubled about," Joe heard Mr. Deometari say -to his companion. "Pruitt has come home." - -"What's the matter with him?" asked the other. - -"Deserted!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. - -"Well," said the other, "it's a big risk for a grown man to take. If -he's caught, he'll have to pay the penalty." - -"No!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari, bringing his fist down on his broad knee. -"He'll be caught, but he won't pay the penalty." - -"Why, what do you mean, Deo?" asked his companion. - -"Don't you know him?" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. "He belongs to the Relief -Committee!" - -"Phew!" whistled the other, raising both his hands in the air, and -letting them fall again. - -"Don't you know him?" Deometari went on, with increasing earnestness. -"He's the man that shot the otter." - -Again Mr. Deometari's companion gave a long whistle of astonishment. -"Jack Pruitt?" he asked. - -"The identical man," said Deometari. "And do you know who this -provost-marshal here is--this Captain Johnson?" - -[Illustration: 0187] - -"Oh, yes," said the other; "he's the chap that stole the last dust of -meal we had been saving to make soup for poor Tom Henderson." - -"And what happened then?" inquired Mr. Deometari, as if trying to -refresh his own memory instead of that of his companion. "Didn't Jack -Pruitt give him a whipping?" - -"Why, bless my life!" exclaimed the other. "What am I thinking about? -Why, of course he did!" Saying this, Mr. Deometari's companion rose to -his feet, and caught sight of Joe Maxwell as he did so. Instantly he -laid his hand on Mr. Deometari's shoulder and remarked: - -"It is fine weather for birds and boys." - -Joe was not at all disconcerted. He was not eavesdropping, though he -was very much interested in what he had heard. The way to interest a boy -thoroughly is to puzzle him, and Joe was puzzled. - -"I saw Mr. Pruitt last night," he remarked, and then, as his old friend -turned, he said: - -"How do you do, Mr. Deo? You haven't forgotten me, have you?" - -Joe advanced and offered his hand. As Mr. Deometari took it, the frown -cleared away from his face. - -"Why, my dear boy!" he exclaimed, pulling the lad toward him and giving -him a tremendous hugging, "I am delighted to see you! I could count on -my ten fingers the people who are left to call me Deo. And if I counted, -my boy, you may be sure I'd call your name long before I got to my -little finger. Why, I'm proud of you, my boy! They tell me you write the -little paragraphs in the paper credited to 'The Countryman's Devil'? -Not all of them! Ah, well! it is honor enough if you only write some of -them. Forget you, indeed!" - -Mr. Deometari's greeting was not only cordial but affectionate, and the -sincerity that shone in his face and echoed in his words brought tears -to Joe Maxwell's eyes. - -"Blandford," said Mr. Deometari, "you ought to know this boy. Don't you -remember Joe Maxwell?" - -"Why, yes!" said Mr. Blandford, showing his white teeth and fixing his -big black eyes on Joe. "He used to fight shy of me, but I remember him -very well. He used to stand at the back of my chair and give me luck -when I played draughts." - -Mr. Blandford had changed greatly since Joe had seen him last. His black -hair, which once fell over his shoulders in glossy curls, was now gray, -and the curls were shorn away. The shoulders that were once straight and -stalwart were slightly stooped. Of the gay and gallant young man whom -Joe Maxwell had known as Archie Blandford nothing remained unchanged -except his brilliant eyes and his white teeth. Mr. Blandford had, in -fact, seen hard service. He had been desperately shot in one of the -battles, and had lain for months in a Richmond hospital. He was now, as -he said, just beginning to feel his oats again. - -"Come!" said Mr. Deometari, "we must go to my room. It is the same old -room, in the same old tavern," he remarked. - -When the two men and Joe Maxwell reached the room, which was one of -the series opening on the long veranda of the old tavern, Mr. Deometari -carefully closed the door, although the weather was pleasant enough--it -was the early fall of 1864. - -"Now, then," said he, drawing his chair in front of Joe, and placing -his hands on his knees, "I heard you mention a name out yonder when you -first spoke to me. What was it?" - -"Pruitt," said Joe. - -"Precisely so," said Mr. Deometari, smiling in a satisfied way. "John -Pruitt. Now, what did you say about John Pruitt?" - -"Late of said county, deceased," dryly remarked Mr. Blandford, quoting -from the form of a legal advertisement. - -"I said I saw him last night," said Joe, and then he went on to explain -the circumstances. - -"Very good! and now what did you hear me say about Pruitt?" - -"You said he would be caught and not punished because he belonged to the -Relief Committee." - -"Hear that!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. "If any but these friendly ears -had heard all that, we'd have been put on Johnson's black list, and -maybe we'd have been transferred from the black list to the guard-house. -Now, then," continued Mr. Deometari, "you don't know anything about the -Relief Committee, of course, and as you might be inquiring around about -it, and asking what John Pruitt, the deserter, has to do with the Relief -Committee, I'll tell you. But, my dear boy, you must remember this: It's -not a matter to be joked about or talked of anywhere outside of this -room. Now, don't forget. It isn't much of a secret; it is simply a piece -of business that concerns only a few people. Do you remember reading or -hearing about the retreat from Laurel Hill?" asked Mr. Deometari, moving -his chair back and unwinding the stem of his Turkish pipe. "That was -in the early part of the war, and it will never cut much of a figure in -history, but some of those who were in that retreat will never forget -it. In the confusion of getting away a little squad of us, belonging -mostly to the First Georgia Regiment, were cut off from the main body. -When we halted to get our bearings there were not more than a dozen of -us." - -"Seventeen, all told," remarked Mr. Blandford. - -"Yes," said Mr. Deometari, "seventeen. We were worse than lost. We -were on the mountains in a strange country. Behind us was the enemy and -before us was a forest of laurel that stretched away as far as the eye -could reach. To the right or to the left was the same uncertainty. We -could hear nothing of the rest of the command. To fire a gun was to -invite capture, and there was nothing for us to do but push ahead -through the scrubby growth." - -"The commissary was absent on a furlough," remarked Mr. Blandford. - -"Yes," said Mr. Deometari, laughing. "The commissary was missing, and -rations were scanty. Some of the men had none at all. Some had a little -hard-tack, and others had a handful or so of meal. Though the weather -was bitter cold, we built no fire the first night, for fear of -attracting the attention of the enemy. The next day and the next we -struggled on. We saved our rations the best we could, but they gave out -after a while, and there was nothing left but a little meal which John -Pruitt was saving up for Tom Henderson, who was ill and weak with fever. -Every day, when we'd stop to breathe awhile, Pruitt would make Henderson -a little cupful of gruel, while the rest of us ate corn, or roots, or -chewed the inside bark of the trees.'' - -"And nobody begrudged Tom his gruel," said Mr. Blandford, "though I'll -swear the sight of it gave me the all-overs." - -"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. "Somebody did begrudge Tom the -gruel. One night this Captain Johnson, who is lording it around here -now, thought Pruitt and the rest of us were asleep, and he made an -effort to steal the little meal that was left. Well, Pruitt was very -wide awake, and he caught Johnson and gave him a tremendous flogging; -but the villain had already got into the haversack, and in the struggle -the meal was spilled." - -Mr. Deometari coiled the stem of his pipe around his neck, and blew a -great cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. - -"But what about the Relief Committee, Mr. Deo?" inquired Joe. - -"Why, to be sure! A nice story-teller am I!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. -"I had forgotten the Relief Committee entirely. Well, we went forward, -growing weaker and weaker every day, until finally we came to a ravine." - -"It was a gorge," observed Mr. Blandford, stretching himself out on Mr. -Deometari's bed, "and a deep one too." - -"Yes, a gorge," said Mr. Deometari. "When we reached that gorge we were -in a famished condition. Not a bird could be seen except crows and -buzzards. The crows would have made good eating, no doubt, but they were -very shy. We had lived in the hope of finding a hog, or a sheep, or a -cow, but not a sign of a four-footed creature did we see. I don't know -how it was, but that gorge seemed to stretch across our path like the -Gulf of Despair. Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that -they would go no farther. - -[Illustration: 0194] - -"They said they had no desire to live; they were as weak and as foolish -as children. Of the seventeen men in the squad, there were but five -who had any hope, any spunk, or any spirit--Blandford there, Pruitt, -Henderson, this Captain Johnson, and myself." - -"You ought to put yourself first," said Mr. Blandford. "You were as fat -as a pig all the time, and as full of life as a grasshopper in July." - -"This ravine or gorge," continued Mr. Deometari, paying no attention to -the interruption, "was our salvation. Mr. Blandford and Pruitt explored -it for a little distance, and they found a little stream of water -running at the bottom. It was what you call a branch. When they came -back there was considerable disagreement among the men. The poor -creatures, weak and irritable from hunger, had lost all hope, and would -listen to no argument that didn't suit their whims. There was this -question to settle: Should we cross the gorge and continue in the course -we had been going, or should we' follow the gorge? It was a very serious -question. We had not the slightest idea where we were. We had been -wandering about in the mountains for eight days, and if we were going to -get out at all it was necessary to be in a hurry about it. - -"Then there was another question. If the gorge was to be followed, which -way should we go? Should we follow the running water or should we go -the other way? Blandford and Pruitt had already made up their minds to -follow the running water, and of course I was going with them." - -"That's because it was down hill," remarked Mr. Blandford, laughing. -"Deo always said his legs were never made for going up hill." - -"We had a great discussion. My dear boy, if you want to see how peevish -and ill-natured and idiotic a grown man can be, just starve him for a -matter of eight or nine days. Some wanted to go one way and some wanted -to go another, while others wanted to stay where they were. Actually, -Blandford and I had to cut hickories and pretend that we were going to -flog the men who wanted to stay there and die, and when we got them -on their feet we had to drive them along like a drove of sheep, while -Pruitt led the way. - -"Pruitt's idea was that the running water led somewhere. This may seem -to be a very simple matter now, but in our weak and confused condition -it was a very fortunate thing that he had the idea and stuck to it. We -found out afterward that if we had continued on the course we had been -going, or if we had followed the gorge in the other direction, we would -have buried ourselves in a wilderness more than a hundred miles in -extent. - -"The next day a couple of hawks and two jay-birds were shot, and, though -they made small rations for seventeen men, yet they were refreshing, and -the very sight of them made us feel better. The walls of the gorge grew -wider apart, and the branch became larger as we followed it. The third -day after we had changed our course Pruitt, who was ahead, suddenly -paused and lifted his hand. Some of the men were so weak that they -swayed from side to side as they halted. The sight of them was pitiful. -We soon saw what had attracted Pruitt's attention. On the rocks, above a -pool of water, an otter lay sunning himself. He was as fat as butter. We -stood speechless a moment and then sank to the ground. There was no -fear that the otter could hear our voices, for the branch, which had now -grown into a creek, fell noisily into the pool. If he had heard us--if -he had slipped off the rocks and disappeared--" Mr. Deometari paused and -looked into his pipe. - -"Great heavens, Deo!" exclaimed Mr. Blandford, jumping up from the bed. -"I'll never forget that as long as I live! I never had such feelings -before, and I've never had such since." - -"Yes," continued Mr. Deometari, "it was an awful moment. Each man knew -that we must have the otter, but how could we get him? He must be shot, -but who could shoot him? Who would have nerve enough to put the ball in -the right spot? The man who held the gun would know how much depended on -him; he would be too excited to shoot straight. I looked at the men, and -most of them were trembling. Those who were not trembling were as white -as a sheet with excitement. I looked at Pruitt, and he was standing up, -watching the otter, and whistling a little jig under his breath. So I -said to him, as quietly as I could: - -"'Take your gun, man, and give it to him. You can't miss. He's as big as -a barn-door.' - -"Pruitt dropped on one knee, put a fresh cap on his gun, shook his hand -loose from his sleeve, leveled his piece, and said, 'Pray for it, boys!' - -[Illustration: 0200] - -"Then he fired. He was so weak that the gun kicked him over. When I -looked at the otter it seemed that the creature had never moved, but -presently I saw a leg quivering, and then we rushed forward as fast as -we could, the happiest lot of men you ever saw on this earth. The otter -was shot through the head. The men were so ravenous they acted like -maniacs. It was all that Blandford and Pruitt and I could do to keep -them from falling on the otter with their knives and eating it raw, hide -and all. - -"But it saved us," Mr. Deometari went on, "and we had something to -spare. The next day we met with a farmer hunting his stray sheep, and we -soon got back to the army. Four of us formed the Relief Committee before -we parted. Blandford, Pruitt, Tom Henderson, and myself--the men who -had never lost hope--promised each other, and shook hands on it, that -whenever one got in trouble the others would help him out without any -questions. - -"Now, it isn't necessary to ask any questions about Pruitt He deserted -because his family were in a starving condition." - -"Yes," said Mr. Blandford, bringing his heavy jaws together with a snap, -"and I believe in my soul that Johnson has kept food and clothes away -from them!" - -"I know he has," said Mr. Deometari, calmly. "Tom Henderson is one -of Johnson's clerks, and he keeps the run of things. He is to meet us -to-night, and then you'll see a man who has been blazing mad for three -months.--Now, my boy," continued Mr. Deometari, "forget all about this. -You are too young to be troubled with such things. We're just watching -to see how Captain Johnson proposes to pay off the score he owes Pruitt. -Should you chance to see John, just tell him that the Relief Committee -has taken charge of Hillsborough for a few weeks. Another thing," said -Mr. Deometari, laying his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder, "if you -should be sent for some day or some night, just drop everything and -come with the messenger. A bright chap like you is never too small to do -good." - -The two men shook hands with Joe, and Mr. Blandford gravely took off his -hat when he bade the boy good-by. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT - - -For a few days Joe Maxwell forgot all about Mr. Deometari, Mr. -Blandford, and Mr. Pruitt. There was distinguished company visiting -the editor of The Countryman--a young lady from Virginia, Miss Nellie -Carter, and her mother, and some young officers at home on furlough. One -of these young officers, a kinsman of the editor, brought his pack -of fox-hounds, and arrangements were made for a grand fox-hunt. The -plantation seemed to arouse itself to please the visitors. The negroes -around the house put on their Sunday clothes and went hurrying about -their duties, as if to show themselves at their best. - -Joe was very glad when the editor told him that he was to go with the -fox-hunters and act as master of ceremonies. Fox-hunting was a sport -of which he was very fond, for it seemed to combine all the elements -of health and pleasure in outdoor life. Shortly after Joe went to the -plantation the editor of _The Countryman_ had brought from Hillsborough -a hound puppy, which had been sent him by a Mr. Birdsong. This Mr. -Birdsong was a celebrated breeder of fox-hounds, having at one time the -only pack south of Virginia that could catch a red fox. He was a great -admirer of the editor of _The Countryman_, and he sent him the dog as -a gift. In his letter Mr. Birdsong wrote that the puppy had been raised -under a gourd-vine, and so the editor called him Jonah. Joe Maxwell -thought the name was a very good one, but it turned out that the dog was -very much better than his name. The editor gave the dog to Joe, who -took great pains in training him. Before Jonah was six months old he had -learned to trail a fox-skin, and by the time he was a year old hardly a -morning passed that Joe did not drag the skin for the pleasure of seeing -Jonah trail it. He developed great speed and powers of scent, and he was -not more than two years old before he had run down and caught a red fox, -unaided and alone. Naturally, Joe was very proud of Jonah, and he was -glad of an opportunity to show off the dog's hunting qualities. - -In training Jonah, Joe had also unwittingly trained an old fox that -made his home on the plantation. The fox came to be well known to -every hunter in the county. He was old, and tough, and sly. He had been -pursued so often that if he heard a dog bark in the early morning hours, -or a horn blow, he was up and away. The negroes called him "Old Sandy," -and this was the name he came to be known by. Jonah when a puppy had -trailed Old Sandy many a time, and Joe knew all his tricks and turnings. -He decided that it would be well to give the young officer's pack some -exercise with this cunning old fox. - -All the arrangements for the hunt were made by the editor. Joe Maxwell -was to escort Miss Nellie Carter, who, although a Virginian and a good -horsewoman, had never ridden across the country after a fox. The lad was -to manage so that Miss Carter should see at least as much of the hunt -as the young men who were to follow the hounds, while Harbert was to -go along to pull down and put up the fences. To Joe this was a new and -comical feature of fox-hunting, but the editor said that this would be -safer for Miss Carter. - -When the morning of the hunt arrived, Joe was ready before any of the -guests, as he had intended to be. He wanted to see to everything, much -to Harbert's amusement. Like all boys, he was excited and enthusiastic, -and he was very anxious to see the hunt go off successfully. Finally, -when all had had a cup of coffee, they mounted their horses and were -ready to go. - -"Now, then," said Joe, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed, as he -knew that Miss Nellie Carter was looking and listening, "there must be -no horn-blowing until after the hunt is over. Of course, you can blow -if you want to," Joe went on, thinking he had heard one of the young men -laugh, "but we won't have much of a hunt. We are going after Old Sandy -this morning, and he doesn't like to hear a horn at all. If we can keep -the dogs from barking until we get to the field, so much the better." - -"You must pay attention," said Miss Carter, as some of the young men -were beginning to make sarcastic suggestions. "I want to see a real -fox-hunt, and I'm sure it will be better to follow Mr. Maxwell's -advice." - -Joe blushed to here his name pronounced so sweetly, but in the dim -twilight of morning his embarrassment could not be seen. - -"Are your dogs all here, sir?" he asked the young man who had brought -his hounds. "I have counted seven, and mine makes eight." - -"Is yours a rabbit-dog?" the young man asked. - -"Oh, he's very good for rabbits," replied Joe, irritated by the -question. - -"Then hadn't we better leave him?" the young man asked, not unkindly, -"He might give us a good deal of trouble." - -"I'll answer for that," said Joe. "If everybody is ready, we'll go." - -"You are to be my escort, Mr. Maxwell," said Miss Carter, taking her -place by Joe's side, "and I know I shall be well taken care of." - -The cavalcade moved off and for a mile followed the public road. Then it -turned into a lane and then into a plantation road that led to what -was called the "Turner old field," where for three or four years, and -perhaps longer, Old Sandy had made his headquarters. By the time the -hunters reached the field, which was a mile in extent, and made up -of pasture-land overgrown with broom-sedge, wild plum-trees, and -blackberry-vines, the dawn had disappeared before the sun. Red and -yellow clouds mingled together in the east, and a rosy glow fell across -the hills and woods. As they halted for Harbert to take down the fence, -Joe stole a glance at his companion, and as she sat with her lips parted -and the faint reflection of the rosy sky on her cheeks, he thought -he had never seen a prettier picture. Jonah seemed to be of the same -opinion, for he stood by the young lady's horse, looking into her face, -and whistled wistfully through his nose. - -"That is your dog, I know!" said Miss Carter. "Why, he's a perfect -beauty! Poor fellow!" she exclaimed, stretching her arm out and -filliping her fingers. Jonah gathered himself together, leaped lightly -into the air, and touched her fair hand with his velvet tongue. Joe -blushed with delight. "Why, he jumped as high as a man's head!" she -cried. "I know he will catch the fox." - -"I think we have stolen a march on Old Sandy," said Joe, "and if we -have, you'll see a fine race. I hope the other dogs can keep up." - -"Ah," said their owner, "they are Maryland dogs." - -"My dog," said Joe, proudly, "is a Birdsong." - -By this time the hunters had crossed the fence, and the dogs, with the -exception of Jonah, were beginning to cast about in the broom-sedge and -brier-patches. - -"I hope Jonah isn't lazy," said Miss Carter, watching the dog as he -walked in quiet dignity by the side of her horse. - -"Oh, no," said Joe, "he isn't lazy; but he never gets in a hurry until -the time comes." - -The young men tried to tease Joe about Jonah, but the lad only smiled, -and Jonah gradually worked away from the horses. It was noticed that he -did not hunt as closely as the other dogs, nor did he nose the ground as -carefully. He swept the field in ever-widening circles, going in an -easy gallop, that was the perfection of grace, and energy, and strength. -Presently Harbert cried out: - -"Looky yonder, Marse Joe! Looky yonder at Jonah!" - -All eyes were turned in the direction that Harbert pointed. The dog -was hunting where the brown sedge was higher than his head, and he had -evidently discovered something, for he would leap into the air, look -around, and drop back into the sedge, only to go through the same -performance with increasing energy. - -"Why don't he give a yelp or two and call the other dogs to help him?" -exclaimed one of the young men. - -"He's no tattler," said Joe, "and he doesn't need any help. That fox has -either just got up or he isn't twenty yards away. Just wait!" - -The next moment Jonah gave tongue with thrilling energy, repeated the -challenge twice, and was off, topping the fence like a bird. The effect -on the other dogs was magical; they rushed to the cry, caught up the -red-hot drag, scrambled over the fence the best they could, and went -away, followed by a cheer from Harbert that shook the dew from the -leaves. The young men were off, too, and Joe had all he could do to hold -his horse, which was in the habit of running with the hounds. The sound -of the hunt grew fainter as the dogs ran across a stretch of meadow-land -and through a skirt of woods to the open country beyond; and Joe and -Miss Carter, accompanied by Harbert, proceeded leisurely to the brow of -a hill near by. - -"If that is Old Sandy," said Joe, "he will come across the Bermuda field -yonder, turn to the left, and pass us not very far from that dead pine." -Joe was very proud of his knowledge. - -"Why, we shall see the best of the hunt!" cried Miss Carter, -enthusiastically. - -They sat on their horses and listened. Sometimes the hounds seemed to -be coming nearer, and then they would veer off. Finally, their musical -voices melted away in the distance. Joe kept his eyes on the Bermuda -field, and so did Harbert, while Miss Carter tapped her horse's mane -gently with her riding-whip, and seemed to be enjoying the scene. They -waited a long time, and Joe was beginning to grow disheartened, when -Harbert suddenly exclaimed: - -"Looky yonder, Marse Joe! what dat gwine 'cross de Bermuda pastur'?" - -Across the brow of the hill slipped a tawny shadow--slipped across and -disappeared before Miss Carter could see it. - -"That's Old Sandy," cried Joe; "now watch for Jonah!" - -Presently the hounds could be heard again, coming nearer and nearer. -Then a larger and a darker shadow sprang out of the woods and swept -across the pasture, moving swiftly and yet with the regularity of -machinery. At short intervals a little puff of vapor would rise from -this black shadow, and then the clear voice of Jonah would come ringing -over the valley. Then the rest of the dogs, a group of shadows, with -musical voices, swept across the Bermuda field. - -"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Miss Carter, clapping her little hands. - -"Wait," said Joe; "don't make any noise. He'll pass here, and go to -the fence yonder, and if he isn't scared to death you'll see a pretty -trick." - -It was a wide circle the fox made after he passed through the Bermuda -field. He crossed the little stream that ran through the valley, skirted -a pine thicket, ran for a quarter of a mile along a plantation path, and -then turned and came down the fallow ground that lay between the creek -and the hill where Joe and Miss Carter, with Harbert, had taken their -stand. It was a comparatively level stretch of nearly a half-mile. The -old corn-rows ran lengthwise the field, and down one of these Old Sandy -came in full view of those who were waiting to see him pass. He was -running rapidly, but not at full speed, and, although his tongue was -hanging out, he was not distressed. Reaching the fence two hundred yards -away from the spectators, he clambered lightly to the top, sat down on -a rail and began to lick his fore-paws, stopping occasionally, with one -paw suspended in the air, to listen to the dogs. In a moment or two more -Jonah entered the field at the head of the valley. Old Sandy, carefully -balancing himself on the top rail of the fence, walked it for a hundred -yards or more, then gathering himself together sprang into the air and -fell in the broom-sedge fully twenty feet away from the fence. - -"Oh, I hope the dogs won't catch him!" exclaimed Miss Carter. "He surely -deserves to escape!" - -"He got sense like folks," said Harbert. - -"He stayed on the fence too long. Just look at Jonah!" cried Joe. - -The hound came down the field like a whirlwind. He was running at least -thirty yards to the left of the furrow the fox had followed. - -"Why, he isn't following the track of the fox," exclaimed Miss Carter. -"I thought hounds trailed foxes by the scent." - -"They do," said Joe, "but Jonah doesn't need to follow it as the other -dogs do. The dog that runs with his nose to the ground can never catch a -red fox." - -"Isn't he beautiful!" cried the young lady, as Jonah rushed past, his -head up and his sonorous voice making music in the air. He topped the -fence some distance above the point where the fox had left it, lost the -trail, and made a sweeping circle to the right, increasing his speed as -he did so. Still at fault, he circled widely to the left, picked up the -drag a quarter of a mile from the fence, and pushed on more eagerly than -ever. The rest of the dogs had overrun the track at the point where the -fox had turned to enter the field, but they finally found it again, and -went by the spectators in fine style, running together very prettily. -At the fence they lost the trail, and for some minutes they were casting -about. One of the younger dogs wanted to take the back track, but -Harbert turned him around, and was about to set the pack right, when the -voice of Jonah was heard again, clear and ringing. Old Sandy, finding -himself hard pushed, had dropped flat in the grass and allowed the hound -to overrun him. Then he doubled, and started back. He gained but little, -but he was still game. Jonah whirled in a short circle, and was after -the fox almost instantly. Old Sandy seemed to know that this was his -last opportunity. With a marvelous burst of speed he plunged through the -belated dogs that were hunting for the lost drag, slipped through -the fence, and went back by the spectators like a flash. There was a -tremendous outburst of music from the dogs as they sighted him, and for -one brief moment Joe was afraid that Jonah would be thrown out. The next -instant the dog appeared on the fence, and there he sighted the fox. It -was then that the courage and speed of Jonah showed themselves. Nothing -could have stood up before him. Within a hundred yards he ran into the -fox. Realizing his fate, Old Sandy leaped into the air with a squall, -and the next moment the powerful jaws of Jonah had closed on him. - -[Illustration: 0216] - -By this time the rest of the hunters had come in sight. From a distance -they witnessed the catch. They saw the rush that Jonah made; they saw -Miss Carter and Joe Maxwell galloping forward; they saw the lad leap -from his horse and bend over the fox, around which the dogs were jumping -and howling; they saw him rise, with hat in hand, and present something -to his fair companion; and then they knew that the young lady would ride -home with Old Sandy's brush suspended from her saddle. - -These hunters came up after a while. Their horses were jaded, and the -riders themselves looked unhappy. - -"Did you notice which one of my dogs caught the fox?" asked the young -man to whom the pack belonged. - -"No, sir, I did not," said Joe. - -"I declare that is too funny!" exclaimed Miss Carter, laughing merrily, -and then she went on to describe the chase as she saw it. The young man -smiled as though he thought it was all a joke, and that night he called -up Harbert, and offered him a dollar in Confederate money if he would -tell the truth about the matter. Harbert told him the truth, but it was -so unpleasant that the young man forgot all about the money, although a -dollar at that time was worth not more than twelve and a half cents. - -Miss Carter seemed to be almost as proud of Jonah's performance as Joe -was, and this made the lad feel very proud and happy. But, as they were -going home, an incident happened which, for the time, and for some days -afterward, drove all thoughts of Jonah and fox-hunting out of his mind. -The hunters went back the way they had come, and shortly after they -entered the public road they met a small procession that turned out to -be very interesting, especially to Joe. First, there was a spring wagon, -drawn by one horse and driven by a negro. On the seat with the negro, -and securely fastened with ropes, was Mr. John Pruitt, the deserter. -Behind the negro and Mr. Pruitt were two soldiers with guns, and three -soldiers mounted on horses, and armed, acted as escort. The young -officers who had been hunting with Joe Maxwell stopped the wagon and -made inquiries until they had satisfied their curiosity. Joe would -have spoken to Mr. Pruitt, but the latter, by an almost imperceptible -movement of the head, seemed to forbid it. His face was as serene as -if he had been on dress parade. As the wagon was about to move on, he -spoke: - -"Ain't that the young chap that works in the printin'-office down by -Phoenix school-house?" he asked, nodding his head toward Joe, without -looking at him. - -"Yes," said one of the young officers. - -"Well, sir," said Mr. Pruitt, drawing a long breath, "I wish you'd -please tell him to be so good ez to git word to my wife down in the -Yarberry settlement that I won't have a chance to come home in a week or -more, an' she'll hafter do the best she kin tell I git back." - -Joe said he would be glad to do so. - -"I 'low'd he would," said Mr. Pruitt, still speaking to the young -officer; "an' I'm mighty much erbliged." - -Then the little procession moved on toward Hillsborough, and the hunters -went homeward. Miss Nellie Carter was very much interested. - -"He doesn't look a bit like a deserter," she said, impulsively, "and -I'm sure there's some mistake. I don't believe a deserter could hold his -head up." - -Joe then made bold to tell her what he had heard--that Mr. Pruitt and -several other soldiers had come home because they heard their families -were suffering for food. Miss Carter was very much interested, and -wanted to go with the lad to visit Mrs. Pruitt. - -"But I can't go," said Joe; "there's nobody to do my work in the -printing-office. I'll send Mrs. Pruitt word to-night by some of the -negroes." - -"No, no!" cried Miss Carter, "that will never do. I'll see my cousin -and tell him about it. You must go to-day, and I'll go with you. Oh, it -mustn't be postponed; you must go this very afternoon! Why, what is this -little newspaper you are printing out here in the woods? The woman may -be suffering." - -Miss Carter saw her cousin, the editor, and lost no time in telling him -about Mr. Pruitt and his family. The editor, who was one of the best of -men, was so much interested that, instead of sending Joe with the young -lady, he went himself, taking in his buggy a stout hamper of provisions. -When they came back, Miss Carter's eyes were red, as if she had been -crying, and the editor looked very serious. - -"I'm very glad you didn't go," he said to Joe, when Miss Carter had -disappeared in the house. - -"Was anybody dead?" asked Joe. - -"No," replied the editor. "Oh, no; nothing so bad as that. But the woman -and her children have been in a terrible fix! I don't know who is to -blame for it, but I shall score the county officers and the Ladies' Aid -Society in the next paper. These people have been actually in a starving -condition, and they look worse than if they had gone through a spell -of fever. They are nothing but skin and bones. The main trouble is that -they live in such an out-of-the-way place. The house is a mile from the -public road, and hard to find." - -"I heard," said Joe, "that the provost-marshal had something to do with -holding back supplies that ought to have gone to Mr. Pruitt's family." - -"How could he?" asked the editor; and then he added, quickly: "Why, -of course he could; he is in charge of everything. He is judge, jury, -lawyer, and general dictator. Who told you about it?" - -"I heard it in town," said Joe. - -"Well, he's a mean rascal," said the editor. He bade Joe good-evening, -and started in the house, but half-way up the steps he paused and called -to the lad. - -"Here's something I forgot to ask you about," he said, taking a letter -from his pocket. "It is a note from Deo about you. What do you know -about Deo?" - -"About me?" said Joe. "I used to know Mr. Deo when I was a little boy." - -"Well, you are not such a big boy now," said the editor, smiling. "Here -is what Deo says: 'You have a boy working in your printing-office who -can make himself very useful in a good cause when the time comes. His -name is Joe Maxwell, and he is a very good friend of mine. At least he -used to be. Before long I shall send for him, and, whether I send in the -day or in the night, I want you to let him come. If I were to tell you -now what I want with him, you would laugh and say that all fat men are -foolish. What I want him to do can be done only by a woman or a boy. A -woman is not to be thought of, and I know of no boy I can trust except -Maxwell. Just give him your permission beforehand, so that there will be -no delay.' Now what do you think about it?" inquired the editor. - -"May I go?" asked Joe. - -"That is for you to decide," said the editor. "I have been knowing -Deometari for nearly twenty years. He's a good lawyer and a clever man. -But, if you do go, be careful of yourself. Don't get into any trouble. -Tell Deo that all of us like you out here, and we don't want any -foolishness." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES - - -It was the very next afternoon that Joe Maxwell received the expected -summons from Mr. Deometari. The message was brought by a negro on a -mule, and the mule seemed to be very tired, although it had come only -nine miles. - -"I never is see no mule like dis," said the negro, indignantly, as he -took a soiled letter from his hat and handed it to Joe. "I start from -town at two o'tlocks, an' here 'tis mos' night. I got me a stick an' I -hit 'er on one side, an' den she'd shy on t'er side de road, an' when I -hit 'er on dat side, she'd shy on dis side. She been gwine slonchways de -whole blessed way." - -[Illustration: 0224] - -Mr. Deomatari's note had neither address nor signature, and it was very -brief. "Come at once," it said. "You remember the retreat from Laurel -Hill and the otter? Come in by the jail and around by the Branham place. -If some one cries, 'Who goes there?' say, 'It is the Relief.'" - -Joe turned the note over and studied it. "Who gave you this?" he asked -the negro. - -"Dat chuffy-lookin' white man what stay dar at de tavern. He say you -mustn't wait for me, but des push on. Dem wuz his ve'y words--des push -on." - -Joe had some trouble in getting away. The editor had gone off somewhere -in the plantation; and Butterfly, the horse he proposed to ride--the -horse he always rode--was in the pasture, and a colt in a plantation -pasture is as big a problem as a hard sum in arithmetic. The colt is -like the answer. It is there somewhere; but how are you going to get it, -and when? Harbert solved the problem after a while by cornering the colt -and catching him; but the sun was nearly down when Joe started, and -he then had nine miles to ride. Harbert, who was a sort of plantation -almanac, said there would be no moon until after midnight, and a mighty -small one then; but this made no difference to Joe Maxwell. Every -foot of the road was as familiar to him as it was to old Mr. Wall, the -hatter, who was in the habit of remarking that, if anybody would bring -him a hatful of gravel from the big road that led to Hillsborough, he'd -"up an' tell 'em right whar they scooped it up at." Joe not only knew -the road well, but he was well mounted. Butterfly had all the faults Of -a colt except fear. He was high-spirited and nervous, but nothing seemed -to frighten him. When the lad started, Harbert ran on ahead to unlatch -the big plantation gate that opened on the public-road. - -"Good-night, Marse Joe," said the negro. "I wish you mighty well." - -"Good-night, Harbert," responded Joe, as he went cantering into the -darkness. - -There was something more than a touch of fall in the evening air, and -Butterfly sprang forward eagerly, and chafed at the bit that held him -back. The short, sharp snorts that came from his quivering nostrils -showed the tremendous energy he had in reserve, and it was not until -he had gone a mile or more that he settled down into the long, swift, -sweeping gallop that seemed in the dim light to throw the trees and -fences behind him. At a cross-road Joe heard the tramp of horses and the -jingling of spurs and bridle-bits, but he never paused, and it was -not until long afterward he learned that he had come near forming the -acquaintance of Wilson's raiders, who were making their way back to -Atlanta. - -By the time the stars had come out, Joe could see the lights of -Hillsborough twinkling in the distance, and in a short time he had -turned into the back street that led by the jail and made way across the -town until he reached the square below the tavern. Then he turned to -the left, and was soon in front of Mr. Deometari's room. Boy-like, he was -secretly sorry that some sentinel had not challenged him on the way, -so that he could give the countersign. A muffled figure, sitting on the -edge of the veranda, roused itself as Joe rode up. - -"Where is Mr. Deometari?" the lad asked. - -"He in dar," replied the figure. "Is you fum de plantation, sah?" - -"Yes." - -"Den I'm to take yo' hoss," the negro said. - -"Well, you must be careful with him," said the lad. - -"Dat I will, suh, kaze Marse Deo say he gwine pay me, an' 'sides dat, I -stays at de liberty stable." - -Joe saw his horse led away, and then he knocked at Mr. Deometari's door. - -"Come in!" cried that genial gentleman. - -"I'm here, sir," said Joe, as he entered. - -"Why, my dear boy! so you are! and glad I am to see you. And you are on -time. I had just pulled out my watch, and said to myself, 'In one short -quarter of an hour the boy should be here, and I shall have his supper -ready for him.' And just then you knocked, and here is my watch still in -my hand. My dear boy, sit down and rest your bones. I feel better." - -Mr. Deomatari had supper for Joe and himself brought to his room, and as -he ate he talked. - -"You are a clever chap," said Mr. Deome-tari. "You don't know how clever -you are. No," he went on, seeing a curious smile on Joe's face--"no, I'm -not making fun of you. I mean just what I say. Where is the boy in this -town who would have galloped through the dark on an errand that he knew -nothing of? I tell you, he is not to be found. But suppose he could be -found, wouldn't he bother me with ten thousand questions about what he -was expected to do, and how he was going to do it, and when, and which, -and what not? Now, I want to ask you why you came?" - -"Because you sent for me," said Joe buttering another biscuit. "And -because I wanted to find out all about--" - -"All about what?" asked Mr. Deometari. - -"About Mr. Pruitt, and--everything." - -"Well," said Mr. Deometari, "I won't tell you precisely why I sent for -you--you'll find out for yourself; but one of the reasons is that I want -you to go with a little party of us to a point not far from your home. -You know the roads, and you know what the negroes call the short cuts." - -"To-night?" asked Joe. - -"Yes, to-night. Not now, but a little later." - -Joe ate his supper, and then sat gazing into the fire that had been -kindled on the hearth. - -"I was just thinking, Mr. Deo," he said, after a while, "whether I ought -to go and see mother." - -"Now that is the question." Mr. Deometari drew his chair closer to the -lad, as if preparing to argue the matter. "Of course, you feel as if you -ought to go. That is natural. But, if you go, you will have to give your -mother some reason for being here. You could only tell her that I had -sent for you. This is such a poor reason that she would be uneasy. Don't -you think so?" - -"Well," said Joe, after a pause, "I can come to see her next Sunday." - -Rubbing his fat hands together, Mr. Deome-tari looked at Joe a long -time. He seemed to be meditating. The ring on his finger glistened like -a ray of sunlight that had been captured and was trying to escape. - -"I want to take you around," he said to Joe after a while, "and -introduce you to Captain Johnson, our worthy provost-marshal." - -"Me?" asked the lad, in a tone of astonishment. - -"Yes," said Mr. Deometari. "Why not? A bright boy like you should be -acquainted with all our great military men. Our noble captain would be -very glad to see you if he knew as much about your visit as I do." - -"But as it is," said Joe, quickly, "he doesn't know any more about it -than I do." - -"My dear boy," exclaimed Mr. Deometari, in a bantering tone, "don't get -impatient. It is so very simple that all our plans might be spoiled if -I told you. Now, then," he continued, looking at his watch, "if you are -ready, we will go. You have no overcoat, but my shawl here will answer -just as well." - -Joe protested that he never wore an overcoat, even in the coldest -weather; but his protest had no effect on Mr. Deometari, who gave the -shawl a dexterous turn and wrapped Joe in it from head to heels. Then he -fastened it at the lad's throat with a long steel pin that had a handle -like a dagger. - -"Why, I look just like a girl," said Joe, glancing down at his feet. - -"Very well, Miss Josephine," laughed Mr. Deometari; "just take my arm." - -The provost-marshal's office was on the opposite side of the public -square from the tavern, and Mr. Deometari, instead of following -the sidewalk, went through the court-house yard. There was not much -formality observed around the office. There was no sentinel stationed at -the door, which was opened (in response to Mr. Deometari's knock) by a -small negro boy. - -[Illustration: 0232] - -Down a little passage-way, or hall, Mr. Deometari went, followed by Joe. -A light shone from a door at the end of a passage on the left, and -into this door Mr. Deometari went without ceremony. There was not much -furniture in the room--four chairs, a lounge, and a table. A sword hung -on the wall, between lithograph portraits of General Lee and Stonewall -Jackson; and on one side was a long array of pigeonholes full of papers. -A man sat at the table, and he was so busily engaged in writing that he -nodded without looking up from his work. - -"Henderson," said Mr. Deometari, "I have company to-night. I want you to -know this young man. His name is Joe Maxwell. He is an honorary member -of the Relief Committee." - -At this Henderson wiped his pen on his head and laid it down. Then he -peered across the table at Joe. The two candles that gave him light were -so close to his eyes that they blinded him when he lifted his face. - -"Maxwell, did you say?--All right, Mr. Maxwell; I am glad to see you. -Excuse my hand; it is full of ink." - -Mr. Henderson had a soft, gentle voice, and his hand, although it was -splashed with ink, was as delicate as that of a woman. - -"Is this the Mr. Henderson you were telling me about some time ago?" -asked Joe, turning to Mr. Deometari. "I mean the Mr. Henderson who was -sick when you retreated from Laurel Hill?" - -"The same," said Mr. Deometari. - -Mr. Henderson laughed softly to hide his surprise, pushed his chair -back, and rose from his seat. Whatever he was going to say was left -unsaid. At that moment a knock that echoed down the hallway came on -the outer door, and it was followed almost immediately by the firm and -measured tread of some newcomer. Then there appeared in the doorway -the serene face of Mr. Archie Blandford. He glanced around the room -half-smiling until his eyes fell on Joe, and then the shadowy smile gave -place to an unmistakable frown. Joe saw it, and for the first time felt -that his position was a peculiar one, to say the least. He began to feel -very uncomfortable, and this feeling was not relieved by the curt nod of -recognition that Mr. Blandford gave him. He was a sensitive lad, and -it was not pleasant to realize that he was regarded as an intruder. He -looked at Mr. Deometari, but that gentleman seemed to be absorbed in a -study of the portraits on the wall. Mr. Blandford advanced a few steps -into the room, hesitated, and then said, abruptly: - -"Deo! let me see you a moment." - -The two men went into the hall and as far as the outer door, and, -although they talked in subdued tones, the passage took the place of a -speaking-tube, and every word they uttered could be heard by Joe Maxwell -and Mr. Henderson. - -"Deo," said Mr. Blandford, "what under the sun is Maxwell doing here? He -ought to be at home in bed." - -"He is here," Mr. Deometari explained, "at my invitation." - -"But your reason must tell you, Deo, that that child ought not to be -mixed up in this night's business. It is almost certain to be serious." - -"That is precisely the reason he is here," said Mr. Deometari. "I might -preach to you from now until doomsday, and you'd never lis-ten to me. -But, with that boy looking at you, you'll keep your temper. I know you -better than you know yourself. You came here tonight with your mind made -up to do something rash. I read it in your face last night; I saw it in -your eyes this morning; I hear it in your voice now. My dear fellow, it -will never do in the world. You would ruin everything. What you intended -to do, you won't dare to do with that boy looking at you. And there's -another reason: if this man Johnson is to be taken out of the county, -the best route is by Armour's Ferry, and Maxwell knows every foot of the -road." - -Then there was a pause, and Mr. Henderson went to the door and said; - -"You two might as well come in here and have it out. We can hear every -word you say." - -They came back into the room, Mr. Bland-ford smiling, and Mr. Deometari -a little flushed. - -"I forgot to shake hands with you just now," said Mr. Blandford, going -over to Joe and seizing the lad's hand. "It wasn't because I don't like -you." - -"Thank you," replied Joe. "I don't understand what you and Mr. Deo were -talking about, but I don't wan't to be in the way." - -"You are not in the way at all," said Mr. Deometari, emphatically. - -"I should say not," exclaimed Mr. Blandford, heartily. "Deo is right and -I was wrong. I'd be happy if I wasn't in anybody's way any more than you -are. You'll find out when you grow bigger that a man never gets too old -to be a fool." With that he reached under his overcoat and unbuckled a -heavy pistol, and placed it on the mantel.--"You see," he said to Mr. -Deometari, "I am making a complete surrender. I don't want to have -that gun where I can get my hands on it when I see our friend Captain -Johnson." - -"You may buckle on your pistol," remarked Mr. Henderson, softly. "You -won't see the captain to-night." - -"Thunderation!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari, springing to his feet. "We must -see him! Pruitt is in the guard-house. Sick or well, Captain Johnson -must travel with us this night. I don't want him killed or hurt, but the -scoundrel shall strut around this town no more." - -"It's just as I tell you," said Henderson, in his gentle way; "you'll -not see him to-night." - -Mr. Blandford laughed, as though he regarded the matter as a joke, -while Mr. Henderson began to fumble among some papers on the table. He -selected from these three little documents, which he spread out before -him, one on the other. Then he looked at the other two men and smiled. - -"Tom," said Mr. Deometari, "this is a very serious matter. You know this -man Johnson as well as we do, and you know that the time has come to get -rid of him." - -"I know him a great deal better than either of you," said Mr. Henderson, -still smiling, "and that is the reason he's not here to-night. That is -the reason you won't see him." - -Mr. Deometari paced back and forth on the floor, pulling his whiskers, -while Mr. Blandford drummed impatiently on the table. - -"The trouble is," Mr. Henderson went on, still addressing Mr. Deometari, -"that we are both afraid of Archie Blandford's temper." - -"Now, just listen at that!" exclaimed Mr. Blandford. "Why, you'll make -this chap here think I'm vicious. He'll believe I'm a man-eater." - -"We both know how he feels toward Captain Johnson," Mr. Henderson -continued, not heeding the interruption, "and we have both been trying -to prevent him from doing anything he might regret. I think your plan -would have succeeded; and I'm glad you brought Maxwell, anyhow, because -I like to meet a bright boy once in a while; but my plan is the best, -after all, for Captain Johnson is gone." - -Mr. Deometari stopped walking the floor, and sat down. "Tell us about -it." - -"Well," said Mr. Henderson, "here is some correspondence that came to -Captain Johnson through the post-office. There are three letters. We -will call this number one: - -"'Sir: It has been noticed that you have refused to forward supplies -intended for the wives and children of Confederate soldiers. -This refers especially to the wife and children of one John Pruitt.'" - -"There is no signature," said Mr. Henderson. "This"--taking up another -document--"we will call number two." - -"'Sir: It is known that no supplies have left this post for the wife and -children of one John Pruitt. Will the Relief Committee have to act? - -"Here," continued Mr. Henderson, "is the last. It is number three: - -"'Sir: John Pruitt is in jail, where he can not help himself. The Relief -Committee will meet to-morrow night. Hold yourself in readiness to hear -again the story of the retreat from Laurel Hill.'" - -"Well?" said Mr. Deometari, as Mr. Henderson paused. - -"Well, the man was worried nearly to death. He was in a continual -fidget. At last he came to me and talked the matter over. That was -yesterday. We went over the Laurel Hill incidents together, and I used -Archie Blandford's name pretty freely. The upshot of it was that I -advised Captain Johnson to report to the commander of the post in Macon, -and he took my advice." - -"Do I look like a dangerous man?" asked Mr. Blandford, turning to Joe. - -"Not now," replied Joe. "But your eyes are very bright." - -"I wish to goodness they were as bright as yours!" said Mr. Blandford, -laughing. - -"So we've had all our trouble for nothing," Mr. Deometari suggested. - -"Oh, no," said Mr. Henderson; "we've been saved a great deal of trouble. -Johnson is gone, and I have here an order for Pruitt's release." - -"If we had known all this," remarked Mr. Deometari, "Maxwell would be -safe in bed, where I suspect he ought to be.--My son," he went on, "it -is a pity to have you riding back and forth in the night." - -"Just to please a fat man with the whimsies," Mr. Blandford observed. - -"Oh, it is no trouble to me," Joe protested. "It is almost like a book, -only I don't exactly understand it all. What were you going to do with -Captain Johnson?" - -"Me? oh, I--well, the fact is, Deo was commanding my regiment to-night," -replied Mr. Blandford. He seemed to be embarrassed. - -"It is all very simple," said Mr. Deometari. - -"When you get a little older you'll find a great many people like -Captain Johnson. He had a little power, and he has used it so as to turn -all the people here against him. Another trouble is, that he used to -belong to the regulars, where the discipline is as strict as it can be. -He has tried to be too strict here, and these Confederate people won't -stand it. The private soldier thinks he is as good as a commissioned -officer, and sometimes better. A provost-marshal is a sort of military -chief of police, and, when his commander is as far away as Macon, he -can do a good deal of harm, especially if he has a streak of meanness -running through him. Johnson has made enemies here by the hundred. Worst -of all, he has treated the wives of soldiers very badly. You know all -about his spite at John Pruitt. We were going to take him to-night to -Armour's Ferry, put him across the river, and give him to understand -that we could get along without him." - -"And he would never come back?" asked Joe. - -"No," said Mr. Deometari, "he would never come back." - -"Was Mr. Blandford very mad with him?" inquired the lad. - -"Yes, I was," that gentleman admitted, laughing a little and looking -uncomfortable. "He had me arrested once, and tried to make me shovel -sand into a barrel that was open at both ends. What do you think of -that?" - -"I think it must have been very funny," said Joe, laughing heartily. - -"I reckon it was funny," observed Mr. Bland-ford, grimly, "but the -rascal wouldn't have enjoyed the fun if it hadn't been for this big fat -man here." - -"You are not referring to me, I hope," said Mr. Henderson, so seriously -that the rest burst out laughing. - -"Come, now," Mr. Deometari suggested. "Let's let in some fresh air on -poor John Pruitt." - -There was nothing more to be done after Mr. Pruitt was released from -the guard-house, and so Joe mounted his horse and cantered off to the -plantation. Butterfly was very glad to have his head turned in that -direction, and he went so swiftly that in the course of an hour Joe was -at home and in bed. His mind was so full of what he had seen and heard -that he went over it all in his slumber. Mr. Deometari, chunky as he -was, took the place of Porthos, the big musketeer; Mr. Blandford was -D'Artagnan; Mr. Henderson was the sleek and slender one (Aramis) whose -name Joe could not remember in his dreams; and even Mr. Pruitt grew into -a romantic figure. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -Somehow, after Joe Maxwell's experience with Mr. Deometari, Mr. -Blandford, and the rest, events of importance seemed to follow each -other more rapidly. Some of them were surprising, and all confusing. It -was in the month of July that Atlanta was taken by General Sherman. -A few weeks afterward, Harbert, while cleaning and oiling the old -Washington No. 2 hand-press in _The Countryman_ office, told Joe that -the Federal army would come marching through the county before long. - -"Who told you?" asked Joe. - -"De word done come," replied Harbert "Hit bleeze ter be so, kaze all -de niggers done hear talk un it. We-all will wake up some er deze -odd-come-shorts an' fin' de Yankees des a-swarmin' all 'roun' here." - -"What are you going to do?" Joe inquired, laughing. - -"Oh, you kin laugh, Marse Joe, but deyer comin'. What I g wine do? Well, -suh, I'm gwine ter git up an' look at um, an' may be tip my hat ter some -er de big-bugs 'mongst um, an' den I'm gwine on 'bout my business. I -don't speck deyer gwine ter bodder folks what don't bodder dem, is dey?" - -Joe had forgotten this conversation until it was recalled to his mind -one morning shortly after his night ride to Hillsborough. General -Sherman had swung loose from Atlanta, and was marching down through -middle Georgia. The people that Joe saw went about with anxious faces, -and even the negroes were frightened. - -[Illustration: 0246] - -Before this vast host all sorts of rumors fled, carrying fear and -consternation to the peaceful plantations. At last, one cold, drizzly -day in November, Joe Maxwell, trudging along the road on his way to the -printing-office, heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and two horsemen -in blue came galloping along. They reined up their horses, and inquired -the distance to Hillsborough, and then went galloping on again. They -were couriers carrying dispatches from the Twentieth Army Corps to -General Sherman. - -There was hurrying to and fro on the plantation after this. The horses -and mules were driven to a remote field in which there was a large -swamp. Joe carried Butterfly and tethered him in the very middle of the -swamp, where he could get plenty of water to drink and young cane -to eat. During the next ten hours the plantation, just as Harbert -predicted, fairly swarmed with foraging parties of Federals. Guided by -some of the negroes, they found the horses and mules and other stock and -drove them off; and, when Joe heard of it, he felt like crying over the -loss of Butterfly. The horse did not belong to him, but he had trained -it from a colt, and it was his whenever he wanted to use it, day or -night. Yet Butterfly was soon forgotten in the excitement and confusion -created by the foragers, who swept through the plantations, levying -in the name of war on the live-stock, and ransacking the not too -well-filled smoke-houses and barns in search of supplies. - -Joe Maxwell saw a good deal of these foragers, and he found them all, -with one exception, to be good-humored. The exception was a German, who -could scarcely speak English enough to make himself understood. This -German, when he came to the store-room where the hats were kept, wanted -to take off as many as his horse could carry, and he became very angry -when Joe protested. He grew so angry, in fact, that he would have fired -the building. He lit a match, drew together a lot of old papers and -other rubbish, and was in the act of firing it, when an officer ran in -and gave him a tremendous paddling with the flat of his sword. It was -an exhibition as funny as a scene in the circus, and Joe enjoyed it -as thoroughly as he could under the circumstances. By night, all the -foragers had disappeared. - -[Illustration: 0249] - -The army had gone into camp at Denham's Mill, and Joe supposed that it -would march on to Hillsborough, but in this he was mistaken. It turned -sharply to the left the next morning and marched toward Milledgeville. -Joe had aimlessly wandered along this road, as he had done a hundred -times before, and finally seated himself on the fence near an old -school-house, and began to whittle on a rail. Before he knew it the -troops were upon him. He kept his seat, and the Twentieth Army Corps, -commanded by General Slocum, passed in review before him. It was an -imposing array as to numbers, but not as to appearance! For once and for -all, so far as Joe was concerned, the glamour and romance of war were -dispelled. The skies were heavy with clouds, and a fine, irritating -mist sifted down. The road was more than ankle-deep in mud, and even -the fields were boggy. There was nothing gay about this vast procession, -with its tramping soldiers, its clattering horsemen, and its lumbering -wagons, except the temper of the men. They splashed through the mud, -cracking their jokes and singing snatches of songs. - -Joe Maxwell, sitting on the fence, was the subject of many a jest, as -the good-humored men marched by. - -"Hello, Johnny! Where's your parasol?" - -"Jump down, Johnny, and let me kiss you good-by!" - -"Johnny, if you are tired, get up behind and ride!" - -"Run and get your trunk, Johnny, and get aboard!" - -"He's a bushwhacker, boys. If he bats his eyes, I'm a-goin' to dodge!" - -"Where's the rest of your regiment, Johnny?" - -"If there was another one of 'em a-settin' on the fence, on t'other -side, I'd say we was surrounded!" - -These and hundreds of other comments, exclamations, and questions, Joe -was made the target of; and, if he stood the fire of them with unusual -calmness, it was because this huge panorama seemed to him to be the -outcome of some wild dream. That the Federal army should be plunging -through that peaceful region, after all he had seen in the newspapers -about Confederate victories, seemed to him to be an impossibility. The -voices of the men, and their laughter, sounded vague and insubstantial. -It was surely a dream that had stripped war of its glittering' trappings -and its flying banners. It was surely the distortion of a dream that -tacked on to this procession of armed men droves of cows, horses, and -mules, and wagon-loads of bateaux! Joe had read of pontoon bridges, but -he had never heard of a pontoon train, nor did he know that bateaux were -a part of the baggage of this invading army. - -But it all passed after a while, and then Joe discovered that he had -not been dreaming at all. He jumped from the fence and made his way home -through the fields. Never before, since its settlement, had such peace -and quiet reigned on the plantation. The horses and mules were gone, and -many of the negro cabins were empty. Harbert was going about as busy as -ever, and some of the older negroes were in their accustomed places, but -the younger ones, especially those who, by reason of their fieldwork, -had not been on familiar terms with their master and mistress, had -followed the Federal army. Those that remained had been informed by the -editor that they were free; and so it happened, in the twinkling of an -eye, that the old things had passed away and all was new. - -In a corner of the fence, not far from the road, Joe found an old -negro woman shivering and moaning. Near her lay an old negro man, his -shoulders covered with an old ragged shawl. "Who is that lying there?" -asked Joe. - -"It my ole man, suh." - -"What is the matter with him?" - -"He dead, suh! But, bless God, he died free!" * - -It was a pitiful sight, and a pitiable ending of the old couple's dream -of freedom. Harbert and the other negroes buried the old man, and the -old woman was made comfortable in one of the empty cabins; she never -ceased to bless "little marster," as she called Joe, giving him all the -credit for everything that was done for her. Old as she was, she and -her husband had followed the army for many a weary mile on the road to -freedom. The old man found it in the fence corner, and a few weeks later -the old woman found it in the humble cabin. - -The next morning, as Joe Maxwell was loitering around the -printing-office, talking to the editor, Butterfly came galloping up, -ridden by Mink, who was no longer a runaway. - - * This incident has had many adaptations. It occurred just - as it is given here, and was published afterward in _The - Countryman_. - -"I seed you put 'im out in de swamp dar, Mars' Joe, an' den I seed some -er de yuther niggers gwine dar long wid dem Yankee mens, an' I say ter -myse'f dat I better go dar an' git 'im; so I tuck 'im down on de river, -an' here he is. He mayn't be ez fatez he wuz, but he des ez game ez he -yever is been." - -Joe was pleased, and the editor was pleased; and it happened that Mink -became one of the tenants on the plantation, and after a while he bought -a little farm of his own, and prospered and thrived. - -But this is carrying a simple chronicle too far. It can not be spun out -here and now so as to show the great changes that have been wrought--the -healing of the wounds of war; the lifting up of a section from ruin -and poverty to prosperity; the molding of the beauty, the courage, -the energy, and the strength of the old civilization into the new; the -gradual uplifting of a lowly race. All these things can not be told of -here. The fire burns low, and the tale is ended. - -The plantation newspaper was issued a little while longer, but in a land -filled with desolation and despair its editor could not hope to see it -survive. A larger world beckoned to Joe Maxwell, and he went out into -it. And it came about that on every side he found loving hearts to -comfort him and strong and friendly hands to guide him. He found new -associations and formed new ties. In a humble way he made a name for -himself, but the old plantation days still live in his dreams. - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's On the Plantation, by Joel Chandler Harris - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE PLANTATION *** - -***** This file should be named 50701.txt or 50701.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/7/0/50701/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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