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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..bab8834 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51917 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51917) diff --git a/old/51917-0.txt b/old/51917-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e4778ae..0000000 --- a/old/51917-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6917 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis - -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: The Revolt of the Oyster - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51917] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - -By Don Marquis - -Garden City, New York - -Doubleday, Page and Company - -1922 - - -[Illustration: 0010] - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - - -“_Our remote ancestor was probably arboreal.”_--Eminent scientist. - - -From his hut in the tree-top Probably Arboreal looked lazily down -a broad vista, still strewn with fallen timber as the result of a -whirlwind that had once played havoc in that part of the forest, toward -the sea. Beyond the beach of hard white sand the water lay blue and vast -and scarcely ruffled by the light morning wind. All the world and his -wife were out fishing this fine day. Probably Arboreal could see dozens -of people from where he crouched, splashing in the water or moving about -the beach; and even hear their cries borne faintly to him on the breeze. -They fished, for the most part, with their hands; and when one caught -a fish it was his custom to eat it where he caught it, standing in the -sea. - -In Probably Arboreal's circle, one often bathed and breakfasted -simultaneously; if a shark or saurian were too quick for one, one -sometimes was breakfasted upon as one bathed. - -In the hut next to Probably Arboreal, his neighbour, Slightly Simian, -was having an argument with Mrs. Slightly, as usual. And, as usual, -it concerned the proper manner of bringing up the children. Probably -listened with the bored distaste of a bachelor. - -“I _will_ slap his feet every time he picks things up with them!” - screamed Slightly Simian's wife, an accredited shrew, in her shrill -falsetto.. - -“It's _natural_ for a child to use his feet that way,” insisted the -good-natured Slightly, “and I don't intend to have the boy punished -for what's natural.” Probably Arboreal grinned; he could fancy the -expression on Old Sim's face as his friend made this characteristically -plebeian plea. - -“You can understand once for all, Slightly,” said that gentleman's wife -in a tone of finality, “that I intend to supervise the bringing-up of -these children. Just because your people had neither birth nor breeding -nor manners----” - -“Mrs. S.!” broke in Slightly, with a warning in his voice. “Don't you -work around to anything caudal, now, Mrs. S.! Or there'll be trouble. -You get me?” - -On one occasion Mrs. Slightly had twitted her spouse with the fact -that his grandfather had a tail five inches long; she had never done -so again. Slightly Simian himself, in his moments of excitement, picked -things up with his feet, but like many other men of humble origin who -have become personages in their maturity, he did not relish having such -faults commented upon. - -“Poor old Sim,” mused Probably Arboreal, as he slid down the tree and -ambled toward the beach, to be out of range of the family quarrel. “She -married him for his property, and now she's sore on him because there -isn't more of it.” - -Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasant effect of the quarrel, Probably -found his mind dwelling upon matrimony that morning. A girl with bright -red hair, into which she had tastefully braided a number of green -parrot feathers, hit him coquettishly between the shoulder blades with a -handful of wet sand and gravel as he went into the water. Ordinarily -he would either have taken no notice at all of her, or else would have -broken her wrist in a slow, dignified, manly sort of way. But this -morning he grabbed her tenderly by the hair and sentimentally ducked -her. When she was nearly drowned he released her. She came out of the -water squealing with rage like a wild-cat and bit him on the shoulder. - -“Parrot Feathers,” he said to her, with an unwonted softness in his -eyes, as he clutched her by the throat and squeezed, “beware how you -trifle with a man's affections--some day I may take you seriously!” - -He let the girl squirm loose, and she scrambled out upon the beach and -threw shells and jagged pieces of flint at him, with an affectation of -coyness. He chased her, caught her by the hair again, and scored the wet -skin on her arms with a sharp stone, until she screamed with the pain, -and as he did it he hummed an old love tune, for to-day there was an -April gladness in his heart. - -“Probably! Probably Arboreal!” He spun around to face the girl's father, -Crooked Nose, who was contentedly munching a mullet. - -“Probably,” said Crooked Nose, “you are flirting with my daughter!” - -“Father!” breathed the girl, ashamed of her parent's tactlessness. “How -can you say that!” - -“I want to know,” said Crooked Nose, as sternly as a man can who -is masticating mullet, “whether your intentions are serious and -honourable.” - -“Oh, father!” said Parrot Feathers again. And putting her hands in front -of her face to hide her blushes she ran off. Nevertheless, she paused -when a dozen feet away and threw a piece of drift-wood at Probably -Arboreal. It hit him on the shin, and as he rubbed the spot, watching -her disappear into the forest, he murmured aloud, “Now, I wonder what -she means by that!” - -“Means,” said Crooked Nose. “Don't be an ass, Probably! Don't pretend -to _me_ you don't know what the child means. You made her love you. You -have exercised your arts of fascination on an innocent young girl, and -now you have the nerve to wonder what she means. What'll you give me for -her?” - -“See here, Crooked Nose,” said Probably, “don't bluster with me.” His -finer sensibilities were outraged. He did not intend to be _coerced_ -into matrimony by any father, even though he were pleased with that -father's daughter. “I'm not buying any wives to-day, Crooked Nose.” - -“You have hurt her market value,” said Crooked Nose, dropping his -domineering air, and affecting a willingness to reason. “Those marks -on her arms will not come off for weeks. And what man wants to marry a -scarred-up woman unless he has made the scars himself?” - -“Crooked Nose,” said Probably Arboreal, angry at the whole world because -what might have been a youthful romance had been given such a sordid -turn by this disgusting father, “if you don't go away I will scar every -daughter you've got in your part of the woods. Do you get me?” - -“I wish you'd look them over,” said Crooked Nose. “You might do worse -than marry all of them.” - -“I'll marry none of them!” cried Probably, in a rage, and turned to go -into the sea again. - -A heavy boulder hurtled past his head. He whirled about and discovered -Crooked Nose in the act of recovering his balance after having flung -it. He caught the old man half way between the beach and the edge of -the forest. The clan, including Crooked Nose's four daughters, gathered -round in a ring to watch the fight. - -It was not much of a combat. When it was over, and the girls took -hold of what remained of their late parent to drag him into the woods, -Probably Arboreal stepped up to Parrot Feathers and laid his hand upon -her arm. - -“Feathers,” he said, “now that there can be no question of coercion, -will you and your sisters marry me?” - -She turned toward him with a sobered face. Grief had turned her from a -girl into a woman. - -“Probably,” she said, “you are only making this offer out of generosity. -It is not love that prompts it. I cannot accept. As for my sisters, they -must speak for themselves.” - -“You are angry with me, Feathers?” - -The girl turned sadly away. Probably watched the funeral cortège winding -into the woods, and then went moodily back to the ocean. Now that she -had refused him, he desired her above all things. But how to win her? -He saw clearly that it could be no question of brute force. It had gone -beyond that. If he used force with her, it must infallibly remind her of -the unfortunate affair with her father. Some heroic action might attract -her to him again. Probably resolved to be a hero at the very earliest -opportunity. - -In the meantime he would breakfast. Breakfast had already been long -delayed; and it was as true then, far back in the dim dawn of time, as -it is now, that he who does not breakfast at some time during the day -must go hungry to bed at night. Once more Probably Arboreal stepped into -the ocean--stepped in without any premonition that he was to be a hero -indeed; that he was chosen by Fate, by Destiny, by the Presiding Genius -of this planet, by whatever force or intelligence you will, to champion -the cause of all Mankind in a crucial struggle for human supremacy. - -He waded into the water up to his waist, and bent forward with his arms -beneath the surface, patiently waiting. It was thus that our remote -ancestors fished. Fish ran larger in those days, as a rule. In the -deeper waters they were monstrous. The smaller fish therefore sought the -shallows where the big ones, greedy cannibals, could not follow them. A -man seldom stood in the sea as Probably Arboreal was doing more than -ten minutes without a fish brushing against him either accidentally or -because the fish thought the man was something good to eat. As soon as -a fish touched him, the man would grab for it. If he were clumsy and -missed too many fish, he starved to death. Experts survived because they -_were_ expert; by a natural process of weeding out the awkward it had -come about that men were marvellously adept. A bear who stands by the -edge of a river watching for salmon at the time of the year when they -rim up stream to spawn, and scoops them from the water with a deft -twitch of his paw, was not more quick or skillful than Probably -Arboreal. - -Suddenly he pitched forward, struggling; he gave a gurgling shout, and -his head disappeared beneath the water. - -When it came up again, he twisted toward the shore, with lashing arms -and something like panic on his face, and shouted: - -“Oh! Oh! Oh!” he cried. “Something has me by the foot!” - -Twenty or thirty men and women who heard the cry stopped fishing and -straightened up to look at him. - -“Help! Help!” he shouted again. “It is pulling me out to sea!” - -A knock-kneed old veteran, with long intelligent-looking mobile toes, -broke from the surf and scurried to the safety of the beach, raising the -cry: - -“A god! A god! A water-god has caught Probably Arboreal!” - -“More likely a devil!” cried Slightly Simian, who had followed Probably -to the water. - -And all his neighbours plunged to land and left Probably Arboreal to -his fate, whatever his fate was to be. But since spectacles are always -interesting, they sat down comfortably on the beach to see how long it -would be before Probably Arboreal disappeared. Gods and devils, sharks -and octopi, were forever grabbing one of their number and making off to -deep water with him to devour him at their leisure. If the thing that -dragged the man were seen, if it showed itself to be a shark or an -octopus, a shark or an octopus it was; if it were unseen, it got the -credit of being a god or a devil. - -“Help me!” begged Probably Arboreal, who was now holding his own, -although he was not able to pull himself into shallower water. “It is -not a god or a devil. It doesn't feel like one. And it isn't a shark, -because it hasn't any teeth. It is an animal like a cleft stick, and my -foot is in the cleft.” - -But they did not help him. Instead, Big Mouth, a seer and _vers libre_ -poet of the day, smitten suddenly with an idea, raised a chant, and -presently all the others joined in. The chant went like this: - - “Probably, he killed Crooked Nose, - - He killed him with his fists. - - And Crooked Nose, he sent his ghost to sea - - To catch his slayer by the foot! - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the seal” - -“You are a liar, Big Mouth!” spluttered Probably Arboreal, hopping on -one foot and thrashing the water with his arms. “It is not a ghost; it -is an animal.” - -But the chant kept up, growing louder and louder: - - “The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer! - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the sea!” - -Out of the woods came running more and more people at the noise of the -chant. And as they caught what was going on, they took up the burden of -it, until hundreds and thousands of them were singing it. - -But, with a mighty turn and struggle, Probably Arboreal went under -again, as to his head and body; his feet for an instant swished into the -air, and everyone but Probably Arboreal himself saw what was hanging on -to one of them. - -It was neither ghost, shark, god, nor devil. It was a monstrous oyster; -a bull oyster, evidently. All oysters were much larger in those days -than they are now, but this oyster was a giant, a mastodon, a mammoth -among oysters, even for those days. - -“It is an oyster, an oyster, an oyster!” cried the crowd, as Probably -Arboreal's head and shoulders came out of the water again. - -Big Mouth, the poet, naturally chagrined, and hating to yield up his -dramatic idea, tried to raise another chant: - - “The ghost of Crooked Nose went into an - - oyster, - - The oyster caught his slayer by the foot - - To drown, drown, drown him in the sea!” - -But it didn't work. The world had seen that oyster, and had recognized -it for an oyster. - -“Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!” cried the crowd sternly at Big Mouth. - -The bard tried to persevere, but Slightly Simian, feeling the crowd with -him, advanced menacingly and said: - -“See here, Big Mouth, we know a ghost when we see one, and we know an -oyster! Yon animal is an oyster! You _sing_ that it is an oyster, or -shut up!” - -“_Ghost, ghost, ghost,_” chanted Big Mouth, tentatively. But he got -no farther. Slightly Simian killed him with a club, and the matter was -settled. Literary criticism was direct, straightforward, and effective -in those days. - -“But, oh, ye gods of the water, _what_ an oyster!” cried Mrs. Slightly -Simian. - -And as the thought took them all, a silence fell over the multitude. -They looked at the struggling man in a new community of idea. Oysters -they had seen before, but never an oyster like this. Oysters they knew -not as food; but they had always regarded them as rather ineffectual and -harmless creatures. Yet this bold oyster was actually giving battle, -and on equal terms, to a man! Were oysters henceforth to be added to -the number of man's enemies? Were oysters about to attempt to conquer -mankind? This oyster, was he the champion of the sea, sent up out of its -depths, to grapple with mankind for supremacy? - -Dimly, vaguely, as they watched the man attempt to pull the oyster -ashore, and the oyster attempt to pull the man out to sea, some sense of -the importance of this struggle was felt by mankind. Over forest, beach, -and ocean hung the sense of momentous things. A haze passed across the -face of the bright morning sun; the breeze died down; it was as if all -nature held her breath at this struggle. And if mankind upon the land -was interested, the sea was no less concerned. For, of sudden, and as -if by preconcerted signal, a hundred thousand oysters poked their heads -above the surface of the waters and turned their eyes--they had small -fiery opalescent eyes in those days--upon the combat. - -At this appearance, mankind drew back with a gasp, but no word was -uttered. The visible universe, perturbed earth and bending heavens -alike, was tense and dumb. On their part, the oysters made no attempt -to go to the assistance of their champion. Nor did mankind leap to the -rescue of Probably Arboreal. Tacitly, each side, in a spirit of fair -play, agreed not to interfere; agreed to leave the combat to the -champions; agreed to abide by the issue. - -But while they were stirred and held by the sense of tremendous things -impending, neither men nor oysters could be expected to understand -definitely what almost infinite things depended upon this battle. There -were no Darwins then. Evolution had not yet evolved the individual able -to catch her at it. - -But she was on her way. This very struggle was one of the crucial -moments in the history of evolution. There have always been these -critical periods when the two highest species in the world were about -equal in intelligence, and it was touch and go as to which would survive -and carry on the torch, and which species would lose the lead and become -subservient. There have always been exact instants when the spirit of -progress hesitated as between the forms of life, doubtful as to which -one to make its representative. - -Briefly, if the oyster conquered the man, more and more oysters, -emboldened by this success, would prey upon men. Man, in the course of a -few hundred thousand years, would become the creature of the oyster; -the oyster's slave and food. Then the highest type of life on the planet -would dwell in the sea. The civilization which was not yet would be -a marine growth when it did come; the intellectual and spiritual and -physical supremacy held by the biped would pass over to the bivalve. - -Thought could not frame this concept then; neither shellfish nor -tree-dweller uttered it. But both the species felt it; they watched -Probably Arboreal and the oyster with a strangling emotion, with a -quivering intentness, that was none the less poignant because there was -no Huxley or Spencer present to interpret it for them; they thrilled and -sweat and shivered with the shaken universe, and the red sun through its -haze peered down unwinking like the vast bloodshot eye of life. - -An hour had passed by in silence except for the sound of the battle, -more and more men and more and more oysters had gathered about the scene -of the struggle; the strain was telling on both champions. Probably -Arboreal had succeeded in dragging the beast some ten feet nearer the -shore, but the exertion had told upon him; he was growing tired; he was -breathing with difficulty; he had swallowed a great deal of salt water. -He too was dimly conscious of the importance of this frightful combat; -he felt himself the representative of the human race. He was desperate -but cool; he saved his breath; he opposed to the brute force of the -oyster the cunning of a man. But he was growing weaker; he felt it. - -If only those for whom he was fighting would fling him some word of -encouragement! He was too proud to ask it, but he felt bitterly that -he was not supported, for he could not realize what emotion had smitten -dumb his fellow men. He had got to the place where a word of spiritual -comfort and encouragement would have meant as much as fifty pounds of -weight in his favour. - -He had, in fact, arrived at the Psychological Moment. There were no -professing psychologists then; but there was psychology; and it worked -itself up into moments even as it does to-day. - -Probably Arboreal's head went under the water, tears and salt ocean -mingled nauseatingly in his mouth. - -“I am lost,” he gurgled. - -But at that instant a shout went up--the shrill, high cry of a woman. -Even in his agony he recognized that voice--the voice of Parrot -Feathers! With a splendid rally he turned his face toward the shore. - -She was struggling through the crowd, fighting her way to the front -rank with the fury of a wildcat. She had just buried her father, and -the earth was still dark and damp upon her hands, but the magnificent -creature had only one thought now. She thought only of her lover, her -heroic lover; in her nobility of soul she had been able to rise above -the pettiness of spirit which another woman might have felt; she knew no -pique or spite. Her lover was in trouble, and her place was nigh him; so -she flung a false maidenly modesty to the winds and acknowledged him and -cheered him on, careless of what the assembled world might think. - -She arrived at the Psychological Moment. - -“Probably! Probably!” she cried. “Don't give up! Don't give up! For my -sake!” - -For her sake! The words were like fire in the veins of the struggling -hero. He made another bursting effort, and gained a yard. But the rally -had weakened him; the next instant his head went under the water once -more. Would it ever appear again? There was a long, long moment, while -all mankind strangled and gasped in sympathetic unison, and then our -hero's dripping head did emerge. It had hit a stone under water, and it -was bleeding, but it emerged. One eye was nearly closed. 4 + - -“Watch him! Watch him!” shouted Parrot Feathers. “Don't let him do that -again! When he has you under water he whacks your eye with his tail. -He's trying to blind you!” - -And, indeed, these seemed to be the desperate oyster's tactics. If he -could once destroy our hero's sight, the end would soon come. - -“Probably--do you hear me?” - -He nodded his head; he was beyond speech. - -“Take a long breath and dive! Do you get me? Dive! Dive at your own -feet! Grab your feet in your hands and roll under water in a bunch! Roll -toward the beach!”' - -It was a desperate manouvre, especially for a man who had already been -under water so much that morning. But the situation was critical and -called for the taking of big chances. It would either succeed--or fail. -And death was no surer if it failed than if he waited. Probably Arboreal -ceased to think; he yielded up his reasoning powers to the noble and -courageous woman on the sand; he dived and grabbed his feet and rolled. - -“Again! Again!” she cried. “Another long breath and roll again!” - -Her bosom heaved, as if she were actually breathing for him. To Probably -Arboreal, now all but drowned, and almost impervious to feeling, it also -seemed as if he were breathing with her lungs; and yet he hardly dared -to dive and roll again. He struggled in the water and stared at her -stupidly. - -She sent her unusual and electric personality thrilling into him across -the intervening distance; she held him with her eyes, and filled him -with her spirit. - -“Roll!” she commanded. “Probably! Roll!” - -And under the lash of her courage, he rolled again. Three more times he -rolled... and then... unconscious, but still breathing, he was in her -arms. - -As he reached the land half a million oysters sank into the sea in the -silence of defeat and despair, while from the beaches rose a mighty -shout. - -The sun, as if it gestured, flung the mists from its face, and beamed -benignly. - -“Back! Back! Give him air!” cried Parrot Feathers, as she addressed -herself to the task of removing the oyster from his foot. - -The giant beast was dying, and its jaws were locked in the rigour of its -suffering. There was no way to remove it gently. Parrot Feathers laid -her unconscious hero's foot upon one rock, and broke the oyster loose -with another. - -Incidentally she smashed Probably Arboreal's toe. - -He sat up in pained surprise. Unthinkingly, as you or I would put a hurt -finger into our mouths, he put his crushed toe into his mouth. At that -period of man's history the trick was not difficult. And then---- - -A beatific smile spread over his face! - -Man had tasted the oyster! - -In half an hour, mankind was plunging into the waves searching for -oysters. The oyster's doom was sealed. His monstrous pretension that he -belonged in the van of evolutionary progress was killed forever. He had -been tasted, and found food. He would never again battle for supremacy. -Meekly he yielded to his fate. He is food to this day. - -Parrot Feathers and Probably Arboreal were married after breakfast. -On the toes of their first child were ten cunning, diminutive oyster -shells. Mankind, up to that time, had had sharp toenails like the -claws of birds. But the flat, shell-like toenails, the symbols of man's -triumph over, and trampling down of, the oyster were inherited from the -children of this happy couple. - -They persist to this day. - - - - -“IF WE COULD ONLY SEE” - - -I - -Lunch finished, Mr. Ferdinand Wimple, the poet, sullenly removed his -coat and sulkily carried the dishes to the kitchen sink. He swore in a -melodious murmur, as a cat purrs, as he turned the hot water on to the -plates, and he splashed profanely with a wet dishcloth. - -“I'm going to do the dishes to-day, Ferd,” announced his wife, -pleasantly enough. She was a not unpleasant-looking woman; she gave -the impression that she might, indeed, be a distinctly pleasant-looking -woman, if she could avoid seeming hurried. She would have been a pretty -woman, in fact, if she had been able to give the time to it. - -When she said that she would do the dishes herself, Mr. Wimple -immediately let the dishcloth drop without another word, profane or -otherwise, and began to dry his hands, preparatory to putting on his -coat again. But she continued: - -“I want you to do the twins' wash.” - -“What?” cried Mr. Wimple, outraged. He ran one of his plump hands -through his thick tawny hair and stared at his wife with latent hatred -in his brown eyes... those eyes of which so many women had remarked: -“Aren't Mr. Wimple's eyes wonderful; just simply _wonderful!_ So -magnetic, if you get what I mean!” Mr. Wimple's head, by many of his -female admirers, was spoken of as “leonine.” His detractors--for who has -them not?--dwelt rather upon the physical reminder of Mr.'Wimple, which -was more suggestive of the ox. - -“I said I wanted you to do the twins' wash for me,” repeated Mrs. -Wimple, awed neither by the lion's visage nor the bovine torso. Mrs. -Wimple's own hair was red; and in a quietly red-haired sort of way she -looked as if she expected her words to be heeded. - -“H----!” said the poet, in a round baritone which enriched the ear as -if a harpist had plucked the lovely string of G. “H----!” But there was -more music than resolution in the sound. It floated somewhat tentatively -upon the air. Mr. Wimple was not in revolt. He was wondering if he had -the courage to revolt. - -Mrs. Wimple lifted the cover of the laundry tub, which stood beside the -sink, threw in the babies' “things,” turned on the hot water, and said: - -“Better shave some laundry soap and throw it in, Ferd.” - -“Heavens!” declared Mr. Wimple. “To expect a man of my temperament to do -that!” But still he did not say that he would not do it. - -“Someone has to do it,” contributed his wife. - -“I never kicked on the dishes, Nell,” said Mr. Wimple. “But this, _this_ -is too much!” - -“I have been doing it for ten days, ever since the maid left. I'm -feeling rotten to-day, and you can take a turn at it, Ferd. My back -hurts.” Still Mrs. Wimple was not unpleasant; but she was obviously -determined. - -“Your back!” sang Mr. Wimple, the minstrel, and shook his mane. “Your -_back_ hurts you! My _soul_ hurts _me!_ How could I go direct from -that--that damnable occupation--that most repulsive of domestic -occupations--that bourgeois occupation--to Mrs. Watson's tea this -afternoon and deliver my message?” - -A shimmer of heat (perhaps from her hair) suddenly dried up whatever dew -of pleasantness remained in Mrs. Wimple's manner. “They're just as much -your twins as they are mine,” she began... but just then one of them -cried. - -A fraction of a second later the other one cried. - -Mrs. Wimple hurried from the kitchen and reached the living room in time -to prevent mayhem. The twins, aged one year, were painfully entangled -with one another on the floor. The twin Ronald had conceived the idea -that perhaps the twin Dugald's thumb was edible, and was testing five or -six of his newly acquired teeth upon it. Childe Dugald had been inspired -by his daemon with the notion that one of Childe Ronald's ears might be -detachable, and was endeavouring to detach it. The situation was but too -evidently distressing to both of them, but neither seemed capable of the -mental initiative necessary to end it. Even when little Ronald opened -his mouth to scream, little Dugald did not remove the thumb. - -Mrs. Wimple unscrambled them, wiped their noses, gave them rattles, -rubber dolls, and goats to wreak themselves upon, and returned to the -kitchen thinking (for she did not lack her humorous gleams) that the -situation in the living room bore a certain resemblance to the situation -in the kitchen. She and Ferdinand bit and scratched figuratively, but -they had not the initiative to break loose from one another. - -Mr. Wimple was shaving soap into the laundry tub, but he stopped when -she entered and sang at her: “And _why_ did the maid leave?” - -“You know why she left, Ferd.” - -“She left,” chanted Ferdinand, poking the twins' clothing viciously with -a wooden paddle, “because...” But what Mr. Wimple said, and the way he -said it, falls naturally into the freer sort of verse: - - “She left [sang Mr. Wimple] - - Because her discontent... - - Her individual discontent, - - Which is a part of the current general discontent - - Of all the labouring classes... - - Was constantly aggravated - - By your jarring personality, - - Mrs. Wimple! - - There is no harmony in this house, - - Mrs. Wimple; - - No harmony!” - -Mrs. Wimple replied in sordid prose: - -“She left because she was offered more money elsewhere, and we couldn't -afford to meet the difference.” Something like a sob vibrated through -Mr. Wimple's opulent voice as he rejoined: - -“Nellie, that is a blow that I did not look for! You have stabbed me -with a poisoned weapon! Yes, Nellie, I _am_ poor! So was Edgar Poe. What -the world calls poor! I shall, in all likelihood, never be rich... what -the world calls rich. But I have my art! I have my ideals! I have my -inner life! I have my dreams! Poor? Poor? Yes, Nell! Poor! So was Robert -Burns! I am poor! I make no compromise with the mob. Nor shall I ever -debase my gift for money. No! Such as I am, I shall bear the torch that -has been intrusted to me till I fall fainting at the goal! I have a -message. To me it is precious stuff, and I shall not alloy it with the -dross called gold. Poor? Yes, Nell! And you have the heart to cast it -in my teeth! You, Nellie! You, from whom I once expected sympathy and -understanding. You, whom I chose from all the world, and took into my -life because I fancied that you, too, saw the vision! Yes, Elinor, I -dreamed _that_ once!” - - -II - -Mr. Wimple achieved pathos... almost tragedy. To a trivial mind, -however, the effect might have been somewhat spoiled by the fact that -in his fervour he gesticulated wildly with the wooden paddle in one -hand and an undergarment belonging to Ronald in the other. The truly -sensitive soul would have seen these things as emphasizing his pathos. - -Mrs. Wimple, when Mr. Wimple became lyric in his utterance, often had -the perverse impulse to answer him in a slangy vernacular which, if -not actually coarse, was not, on the other hand, the dialect of the -aesthete. For some months now, she had noticed, whenever Ferdinand took -out his soul and petted it verbally, she had had the desire to lacerate -it with uncouth parts of speech. Ordinarily she frowned on slang; but -when Ferdinand's soul leaped into the arena she found slang a weapon -strangely facile to her clutch. - -“Coming down to brass tacks on this money thing, Ferdy,” said Mrs. -Wimple, “you're not the downy peach you picture in the ads. I'll tell -the world you're not! You kid yourself, Ferdy. Some of your bloom has -been removed, Ferdy. Don't go so far upstage when you speak to me about -the dross the world calls gold. The reason we can't afford a maid now -is because you got swell-headed and kicked over that perfectly good -magazine job you used to have. You thought you were going to get more -limelight and more money on the lecture platform. But you've been a -flivver in the big time. Your message sounds better to a flock of women -in somebody's sitting room full of shaded candles and samovars, with -firelight on the antique junk, than it does in Carnegie Hall. You've got -the voice for the big spaces all right, but the multitude doesn't -get any loaves and fishes from you. Punk sticks and _nuances_ ---the _intime_ stuff--that's your speed, Ferdy. I don't want to put any -useless dents into your bean, but that message of yours has been hinted -at by other messengers. 1 stick around home here and take care of the -kids, and I've never let out a yell before. And you trot around to your -soul fights and tea fests and feed your message to a bunch of dolled-up -dames that don't even know you have a wife. I'm not jealous... you -couldn't drag me into one of those perfumed literary dives by the hair -... I got fed up with that stuff years ago. But as long as we're without -a maid because you won't stick to a steady job, you'll do your share of -the rough stuff around the house. I'll say you will! You used to be a -good sport about that sort of thing, Ferdy, but it looks to me as if -you were getting spoiled rotten. You've had a rush of soul to the mouth, -Ferdy. Those talcum-powder seances of yours have gone to your head. You -take those orgies of refinement too seriously. You begin to look to me -like you had a streak of yellow in you, Ferdy... and if I ever see -it so plain I'm sure of it, I'll leave you flat. I'll quit you, Ferdy, -twins and all.” - -“Quit, then!” cried Mr. Wimple. - -And then the harplike voice burst into song again, an offering rich with -rage: - - “Woman! - - So help me all the gods, - - I'm through! - - Twins or no twins, - - Elinor Wimple, - - I'm through! - - By all the gods, - - I'll never wash another dish, - - Nor yet another set of underwear!” - -And Mr. Wimple, in his heat, brought down the wooden paddle upon the -pile of dishes in the sink, in front of his wife. The crash of the -broken china seemed to augment his rage, rather than relieve it, and he -raised the paddle for a second blow. - -“Ferd!” cried his wife, and caught at the stick. - -Mr. Wimple, the aesthete, grabbed her by the arm and strove to loosen -her grasp upon the paddle. - -“You're bruising my arm!” she cried. But she did not release the stick. -Neither did Ferdinand release her wrist. Perhaps he twisted it all the -harder because she struggled, and was not conscious that he was doing -so... perhaps he twisted it harder quite consciously. At any rate, she -suddenly swung upon him, with her free hand, and slapped him across the -face with her wet dishcloth. - -At that they started apart, both more than a little appalled to realize -that they had been engaged in something resembling a fight. - -Without another word the bird of song withdrew to smooth his ruffled -plumage. He dressed himself carefully, and left the apartment without -speaking to his wife again. He felt that he had not had altogether the -best of the argument. There was no taste of soap in his mouth, for -he had washed his lips and even brushed his teeth... and yet, -psychically, as he might have said himself, he still tasted that -dishcloth. - -But he had not walked far before some of his complacence returned. He -removed his hat and ran his fingers through his interesting hair, and -began to murmur lyrically: - - “By Jove! - - I have a way with women! - - There must be something of the Cave Man in me - - Yes, something of the primeval!” - -In his pocket was a little book of his own poems, bound in green and -gold. As he had remarked to Mrs. Wimple, he was to deliver his message -that afternoon. - - -III - -Mrs. Watson's apartment (to which Ferdinand betook himself after idling -a couple of hours at his club) was toward the top of a tall building -which overlooked great fields of city. It was but three blocks distant -from Ferdinand's own humbler apartment, in uptown New York, but it was -large, and... well, Mr. - -Wimple calculated, harbouring the sordid thought for an instant, that -the rent must cost her seven or eight, thousand dollars a year. - -Mrs. Watson's life was delicately scented with an attar of expense. She -would not drench her rooms or her existence with wealth, any more than -she would spill perfume upon her garments with a careless hand. But the -sensitive' nostrils of the aesthetic Mr. Wimple quivered in reaction to -the aroma. For a person who despised gold, as Mr. Wimple professed to -despise it, he was strangely unrepelled. Perhaps he thought it to be his -spiritual duty to purify this atmosphere with his message. - -There were eighteen or twenty women there when Ferdinand arrived, and -no man... except a weakeyed captive husband or two, and an epicene -creature with a violin, if you want to call them men. Ferdinand, -with his bovine body and his leonine head, seemed almost startlingly -masculine in this assemblage, and felt so. His spirit, he had often -confessed, was an instrument that vibrated best in unison with the -subtle feminine soul; he felt it play upon him and woo him, with little -winds that ran their fingers through his hair. These were women who had -no occupation, and a number of them had money; they felt delightfully -cultivated when persons such as Ferdinand talked to them about the Soul. -They warmed, they expanded, half unconsciously they projected those -breaths and breezes which thrilled our Ferdinand and wrought upon his -mood. If a woman, idle and mature, cannot find romance anywhere else or -anyhow other she will pick upon a preacher or an artist. - -Mrs. Watson collected Ferdinands. Just how seriously she took them--how -she regarded himself, specifically--Mr. Wimple could not be quite -certain. - -“She is a woman of mystery,” Mr. Wimple often murmured to himself. And -he wondered a good deal about her... sometimes he wondered if she were -not in love with him. - -He had once written to her, a poem, which he entitled “Mystery.” She -had let him see that she understood it, but she had not vouchsafed a -solution of herself. It might be possible, Ferdinand thought, that she -did _not_ love him... but she sympathized with him; she appreciated -him; she had even fallen into a dreamy sadness one day, at the thought -of how he must suffer from the disharmony in his home. For somehow, -without much having been said by one or by the other, the knowledge had -passed from Ferdinand to Mrs. Watson that there was not harmony in his -home. She had understood. They had looked at each other, and she had -understood. - -“Alethea!” he had murmured, under his breath. Alethea was her name. He -was sure she had heard it; but she had neither accepted it from him, nor -rejected it. And he had gone away without quite daring to say it again -in a louder tone. - -There was only one thing about her that sometimes jarred upon Mr. -Wimple... a sudden vein of levity. Sometimes Ferdinand, in his thoughts, -even accused her of irony. And he was vaguely distrustful of a sense -of the humorous in women; whether it took the form of a feeling for -nonsense or a talent for sarcasm, it worried him. - -But she understood. She always understood... him and his message. - -And this afternoon she seemed to be understanding him, to be absorbing -him and his message, with an increased sensitiveness. She regarded him -with a new intentness, he thought; she was taking him with an expanded -spiritual capacity. - -It was after the music, and what a creature overladen with “art jewelry” - called “the eats,” harrowing Ferdinand with the vulgar word, that he -delivered his message, sitting not far from Mrs. Watson in the carefully -graduated light. - -It was, upon the whole, a cheerful message, Ferdinand's. It was... -succinctly... Love. - -Ferdinand was not pessimistic or cynical about Love. It was all around -us, he thought, if we could only see it, could only feel it, could only -open our beings for its reception. - -“If we could only see into the hearts! If we could only see into the -homes!” said Ferdinand. If we could only see, it was Ferdinand's belief, -we should see Love there, unexpected treasures of Love, waiting dormant -for the arousing touch; slumbering, as Endymion slumbered, until Diana's -kiss awakened him. - -“Mush!” muttered one of the captive husbands to the young violinist. -But the young violinist scowled; he was in accord with Ferdinand. “Mush, -slush, and gush!” whispered the first captive husband to the second -captive husband. But captive husband number two only nodded and grinned -in an idiotic way; he was lucky enough to be quite deaf, and no matter -where his wife took him he could sit and think of his Liberty Bonds, -without being bothered by the lion of the hour.... - -The world, Ferdinand went on, was trembling on the verge of a great -spiritual awakening. The Millennium was about to stoop and kiss it, as -Morning kissed the mountain tops. It was coming soon. Already the first -faint streaks of the new dawn were in the orient sky... for eyes that -could see them. Ah, if one could only see! In more and more bosoms, the -world around, Love was becoming conscious of itself, Love was beginning -to understand that there was love in other bosoms, too! At this point, -at least a dozen bosoms, among those bosoms present, heaved with sighs. -Heart was reaching out to Heart in a new confidence, Ferdinand said. -One knew what was in one's own heart; but hitherto one had often been so -blind that one did not realize that the same thing was in the hearts of -one's fellows. Ah, if one could only see! - -Maeterlinck saw, Ferdinand said. - -“Ah, Maeterlinck!” whispered the bosoms. - -Yes, Maeterlinck saw, said Ferdinand. Nietzsche, said Ferdinand, had -possessed a bosom full of yearning for all humanity, but he had been -driven back upon himself and embittered by the world... by the German -world in which he lived, said Ferdinand. So Nietzsche's strength had -little sweetness in it, and Nietzsche had not lived to see the new light -in the orient sky. - -“Ah, Nietzsche!” moaned several sympathetic bosoms. - -Bergson knew, Ferdinand opined. Several of the women present did not -quite catch the connection between Bergson and Ferdinand's message, but -they assumed that everyone else caught it. Bergson's was a name they -knew and... and in a moment Ferdinand was on more familiar ground -again. Tagore knew, said Ferdinand. - -“Ah, Rabindranath Tagore!” And the bosoms fluttered as doves flutter -when they coo and settle upon the eaves. Love! That was Ferdinand's -message. And it appeared from the remarks with which he introduced and -interspersed his own poems, that all the really brilliant men of the day -were thinking in harmony with Ferdinand. He had the gift of introducing -a celebrated name every now and then in such a manner that these women, -who were at least familiar with the names, actually felt that they were -also familiar with the work for which the names stood. And, for his -part, he was repaid, this afternoon, as he had never been repaid before -... never before had he been so wrought upon and electrically vivified -as to-day by these emanations of the feminine soul; never before had he -felt these little winds run their fingers through his hair with such -a caressing touch. Once or twice the poignancy of the sensation almost -unsteadied him for an instant. And never before had Mrs. Watson regarded -him with such singular intentness. - -Love! That was Ferdinand's message! And, ah! if one could only see! - -When the others were going, Mrs. Watson asked him to stay a while, and -Ferdinand stayed. She led him to a little sitting room, high above the -town, and stood by the window. And he stood beside her. - -“Your message this afternoon,” she said, presently, “I enjoyed more than -anything I have ever heard you say before. If we could only see! If we -could only see!” - -Mrs. Watson lifted her blue eyes to him... and for an instant Ferdinand -felt that she was more the woman of mystery than ever. For there lurked -within the eyes an equivocal ripple of light; an unsteady glint that -came and went. Had it not been for her words, Ferdinand might have -feared that she was about to break into one of her disconcerting -ebullitions of levity. But he perceived in her, at the same time, a -certain tension, an unusual strain, and was reassured... she was a -little strange, perhaps, because of his near presence. She was reacting -to the magnetism which was flowing out of him in great waves, and she -was striving to conceal from him her psychic excitement. That would -account for any strangeness in her manner, any constraint. - -“If we could only see!” she repeated. - -“_You_ always see,” hazarded Ferdinand. - -“I sometimes see,” said Mrs. Watson. “I have sometimes seen more than it -was intended for me to see.” - -What could she mean by that? Ferdinand asked himself. And for an instant -he was unpleasantly conscious again of the something ambiguous in her -mood. Suddenly she turned and switched on the electric light in the -room, and then went and stood by the window again. Ferdinand's psychic -feathers were a trifle rumpled by the action. It was growing dusk... -but he would have liked to talk to her in the twilight, looking out over -the roofs. - -“If we could only see into the hearts ... into the homes,” she mused -yet again. - -“If you could see into my heart now ... Alethea...” - -He left the sentence unfinished. She did not look at him. She turned her -face so he could not see it. - -He tried to take her hand. But she avoided that, without actually -moving, without giving ground... as a boxer in the ring may escape the -full effect of a blow he does not parry by shrugging it off, without -retreating. - -After a moment's silence she said: “Ferdinand...” and paused.... - -He felt sure of her, then. He drew a long breath. He wished they were -not standing by that window, framed in it, with the lighted room behind -them... but since she _would_ stand there... anyhow, now was the -time.... - -And then he heard himself pleading with her, eloquently, fervently. She -was his ideal! She was... he hated the word “affinity,” because it -had been cheapened and vulgarized by gross contacts... but she _was_ his -affinity. They were made for one another. It was predestined that they -should meet and love. She was what he needed to complete him, to fulfill -him. They would go forth together... not into the world, but away from -it... they would dwell upon the heights, and... and... so forth. - -Ferdinand, as he pleaded, perhaps thought nothing consciously of the -fact that she must be spending money at the rate of fifty or sixty -thousand dollars a year. But, nevertheless, that subconscious mind of -his, of which he had so often spoken, that subliminal self, must have -been considering the figures, for suddenly there flashed before his -inner eye the result of a mathematical calculation..._ fifty thousand -dollars a year is the interest on one million dollars at five per cent_. -Ah, that would make his dreams possible! How his service to the human -race might be increased in value if all his time could be but given to -carrying his message! Farewell to the sordid struggle for bread! And in -the poetic depths of him there moved, unuttered, a phrase which he had -spoken aloud earlier in the day: _“I shall never wash another dish, nor -yet another undergarment_.” This secondary line of thought, however, did -not interfere with the lyric passion of his speech. - -“You are asking me to... to... _elope_ with you!” - -She still drooped her head, but she let him feel her nearness. He -wished--how he wished!--that they were away from that window. But he -would not break the spell by suggesting that they move. Perhaps he could -not reestablish it. - -“Elope?” Ferdinand critically considered the word. - -“I want you to come away with me, Alethea, into Paradise. I want you to -help me rediscover Eden! I want you! I want you!” - -“But... your family?” she murmured. - -He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. “That episode, -that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended,” said -Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand. - -“Ah! Ended?” said Mrs. Watson. “You are no longer living with your -wife? The marriage is dissolved?” Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been -dissolved for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had -never taken the trouble to inquire. - -“In the spiritual sense--and that is all that counts--dissolved,” said -Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: “To-day.” - -Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and -put her head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried -“Victory!” he was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to -take her in his arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. -He stood in perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he -heard muffled sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, -or... - -No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What? - -Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her -laughter. - -“Excuse me,” said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in -her eyes, “but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to -tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had -better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can -never touch anything but the interest, you know.” - -“Alethea,” said Ferdinand, chokingly, “such a thought at a time like -this is unworthy of both of us!” And he advanced toward her again. But -she stopped him. - -“Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I -wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do -our own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my -arm until I howled!” - -As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of -vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a -chair. - -“Get up!” said Mrs. Watson, with a cold little silver tinkle of a laugh. -“I didn't ask you to sit down!” - -Ferdinand got up. - -“I don't spy on my neighbours as a rule,” continued Mrs. Watson, “but -a little after noon to-day I happened to be standing by this window -looking out over the town, and this pair of opera glasses happened to be -on the table there and... well, take them, you oaf! You fat fool! And -look at that window, down there! It's your own kitchen window!” - -Ferdinand took them and looked... he was crushed and speechless, and he -obeyed mechanically. - -He dropped the glasses with a gasp. He had not only seen into his own -kitchen window, lighted as this one was, but he had seen Nell there... -and, as perverse fate would have it, some whim had inspired Nell to take -her own opera glasses and look out over the city. She was standing there -with them now. Had she seen him a moment before, with Mrs. Watson's head -upon his shoulder? - -He started out. - -“Wait a moment,” said Mrs. Watson. Ferdinand stopped. He still seemed -oddly without volition. It reminded him of what he had heard about -certain men suffering from shell shock. - -“There... I wanted to do that before you went,” said Mrs. Watson, and -slapped him across the face. And Ferdinand's soul registered once more -the flavour of a damp dishcloth. “It's the second time a woman has -slapped you to-day,” said Mrs. Watson. “Try and finish the rest of the -day without getting a third one. You can go now.” - -Ferdinand went. He reached the street, and walked several blocks in -silence. Neither his voice nor his assurance seemed to be inclined to -return to him speedily. His voice came back first, with a little of his -complacence, after fifteen or twenty minutes. And: - -“Hell!” said Ferdinand, in his rich, harplike voice, running his fingers -through his tawny hair. “Hell!” - - - - -HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE - - -_AUTHOR'S NOTE--Another version of this story appeared in a book -entitled “Danny's Own Story,” published in 1912 by Doubleday, Page & -Co._ - - -I'm not so sure about Prohibition and pledges and such things holding -back a man that has got the liquor idea in his head. If meanness is in -a man, it usually stays in him, in spite of all the pledges he signs and -the promises he makes. - -About the meanest man I ever knew was Hank Walters, a blacksmith in a -little town in Illinois, the meanest and the whiskey-drinkingest. And I -had a chance to know him well, for he and his wife Elmira brought me up. -Somebody left me on their doorstep in a basket when I was a baby, and -they took me in and raised me. I reckon they took me in so they could -quarrel about me. They'd lived together a good many years and quarrelled -about everything else under the sun, and were running out of topics to -row over. A new topic of dissension sort of briskened things up for a -while. - -Not having any kids of his own to lick, Hank lambasted me when he was -drunk and whaled me when he was sober. It was a change from licking -his wife, I suppose. A man like Hank has just naturally got to have -something he can cuss around and boss, so as to keep himself from -finding out he don't amount to anything... although he must have known -he didn't, too, way down deep in his inmost gizzards. - -So I was unhappy when I was a kid, but not knowing anything else I never -found out exactly how unhappy I was. There were worse places to live -in than that little town, and there was one thing in our house that I -always admired when I was a kid. That was a big cistern. Most people -had their cisterns outside their houses, but ours was right in under our -kitchen floor, and there was a trap door with leather hinges opened into -it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so proud of it. -It was because the cistern was full of fish--bullheads and redhorse and -sunfish and pickerel. - -Hank's father built the cistern. And one time he brought home some live -fish in a bucket and dumped them in there. And they grew. And multiplied -and refurnished the earth, as the Good Book says. That cistern full of -fish had got to be a family custom. It was a comfort to Hank, for all -the Walterses were great fish eaters, though it never went to brains -any. We fed 'em now and then, and threw the little ones back in until -they were grown, and kept the dead ones picked out as soon as we smelled -anything wrong, and it never hurt the water any; and when I was a kid I -wouldn't have taken anything for living in a house like that. - -One time when I was a kid about six years old Hank came home drunk from -Bill Nolan's barroom, and got to chasing Elmira's cat, because he said -it was making faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. -Elmira wasn't at home, and I was scared. Elmira had always told me not -to fool around that cistern door any when I was a kid, for if I fell in -there, she said, I'd be a corpse, quicker'n scatt. - -So when Hank fell in and I heard him splash, being such a little fellow -and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I supposed -that Hank was probably a corpse already. I slammed the door shut over -the cistern without looking in, for I heard Hank flopping around down -there. I hadn't ever heard a corpse flop before and didn't know but -what it might be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take any -chances. - -I went out and played in the front yard and waited for Elmira. But -I couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, or -anything. I kept thinking of Hank being a corpse down in that cistern. -And maybe that corpse is going to come flopping out pretty soon, I -thought to myself, and lick me in some new and unusual way. I hadn't -ever been licked by a corpse. Being young and innocent, I didn't rightly -know what a corpse is, except I had the idea there was something about a -corpse that kept them from being popular. - -So after a while I sneaked back into the house and set all the flatirons -on top of the cistern lid. I heard some flopping and splashing and -fluttering, as if that corpse was trying to jump up and was falling back -into the water, and I heard Hank's voice, and got scareder and scareder. -When Elmira came along down the road she saw me by the gate crying and -blubbering, and she asked me why. - -“Hank is a corpse!” says I. - -“A corpse!” says Elmira, dropping the pound of coffee she was carrying -home from the general store and post-office. “Danny, what do you mean?” - -I saw then I was to blame somehow, and I wished I hadn't said anything -about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say anything -more. So when she grabbed hold of me and asked me again what I meant I -blubbered harder, as a kid will, and said nothing. I wished I hadn't set -those flatirons on the cistern lid, for it came to me all at once that -even if Hank had turned into a corpse I hadn't any right to keep him in -the cistern. - -Just then old Mis' Rogers, one of our neighbours, came by, while Elmira -was shaking me and yelling at me and asking how it happened, and had I -seen it, and where was Hank's corpse. - -“What's Danny been doing now?” asked Mis' Rogers--me being always up to -something. - -Elmira turned and saw her and gave a whoop and hollered out: “Hank is -dead!” And she threw her apron over her head and sat right down in -the path and boo-hooed like a baby. And I bellered and howled all the -louder. - -Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ask anything more. She saw she had -a piece of news, and she wanted to be the first to spread it. She ran -right across the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, -she saw her coming and unhooked the screen door and Mis' Rogers hollered -out before she reached the porch: “Hank Walters is dead!” - -And then she went footing it up the street. There was a black plume on -her bonnet, nodding the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of -seven front yards in less than five minutes. - -Mis' Alexander she ran across the road to where we were, and kneeled -down and put her arm around Elmira, who was still rocking back and forth -in the path, and she said: - -“How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I saw him not more than an hour -ago.” - -“Danny saw it all,” says Elmira. - -Mis' Alexander turned to me and wanted to know what happened and how it -happened and where it happened. But I didn't want to say anything about -that cistern. So I busted out crying all over again and I said: “He was -drunk and he came home drunk and he did it then, and that's how he did -it.” - -“And you saw him?” she asked. - -I nodded. - -“Where is he?” says she and Elmira, both together. - -But I was scared to say anything about that cistern, so I just bawled -some more. - -“Was it in the blacksmith shop?” asks Mis' Alexander. - -I nodded my head again, and let it go at that. - -“Is he in there now?” she wants to know. - -I nodded again. I hadn't meant to give out any untrue stories. But a kid -will always lie, not meaning particular to lie, if you sort of invite -him with questions like that, and get him scared by the way you're -acting. Besides, I says to myself, so long as Hank has turned into a -corpse, and being a corpse makes him dead, what's the difference whether -he's in the blacksmith shop or in the cistern? I hadn't had any plain -idea before that being a corpse meant the same thing as being dead. And -I wasn't any too sure what being dead was like, either. Except I -knew they had funerals over you then. I knew being a corpse must be a -disadvantage from the way that Elmira has always said to keep away from -that cistern, or I'd be one. And I began to see the whole thing was more -important even than I had figured it was at first. I wondered if there'd -be a funeral at our house. If there was one, that would be fine. They -didn't have them every day in our town, and we hadn't ever had one of -our own. - -Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis' -Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a-tagging along behind holding -on to Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all -those women that Mis' Rogers had told came filing into the house, one -at a time, looking sad and mournful. Only old Mis' Primrose, she was a -little late getting there, because she stopped to put on the dress she -always wore to funerals, with the black Paris lace on to it that her -cousin Arminty White had sent her from Chicago. - -When they found out that Hank had come home with liquor in him and done -it himself they were all excited and they all crowded around and asked -me questions, except two that were holding Elmira's hands where she sat -moaning in a chair. And those questions scared me and egged me on to -lies I hadn't had any idea of telling. - -Says one woman: “Danny, you saw him do it in the blacksmith shop?” - -I nodded. - -“But how did he get in?” says another one. “The door was locked on the -outside with a padlock just now when I came by. He couldn't have killed -himself in there and then locked the door on the outside.” - -I didn't see how he could have done that myself, so I began to bawl -again and said nothing at all. - -“He must have crawled into the shop through that little side window,” - says Mis' Primrose. “That window was open when I came by, even if the -door was locked. Did you see him crawl through the little side window, -Danny?” - -I nodded. There wasn't anything else I could think of to do. - -“But you aren't tall enough to look through that window;” sings out Mis' -Rogers. “How could you see into the shop, Danny?” - -I didn't know, so I didn't say anything at all; I just sniffled. - -“There's a store box right in under the window,” says another one. -“Danny must have climbed on to that store box and looked in after he saw -Hank crawl through the window. Did you scramble on to the store box and -look in, Danny?” - -I just nodded again. - -“And what was it you saw him do? How did he kill himself?” they all -asked together. - -I didn't know. So I just bellered and boo-hooed some more. Things were -getting past anything I could see the way out of. - -“He might have hung himself to one of the iron rings in the joists above -the forge,” says another woman. - -“He climbed on to the forge and tied the rope to one of those rings, and -tied the other end around his neck, and then he stepped off the forge -and swung. Was that how he did it, Danny?” - -I nodded. And I bellered louder than ever. I knew that Hank was down in -that cistern below the kitchen, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all -this time; but those women kind of got me to thinking he was hanging out -in the blacksmith shop by the forge, too. - -Pretty soon one woman says, shivery: “I wouldn't want to have the job of -opening the door of the blacksmith shop the first one!” - -And they all shivered, and looked at Elmira, and says to let some of -the men open that door. And Mis' Alexander says she'll run and get her -husband and make him do it. And all the time Elmira sits moaning in that -chair. One woman says Elmira ought to have a cup of tea, and she'll lay -off her bonnet and go to the kitchen and make it for her. But Elmira -says no, she can't a-bear to think of tea, with poor Hennery hanging out -there in the shop. But she was kind of enjoying all that fuss being made -over her, too. And all the other women said: “Poor thing!” But most of -them were mad because she said she didn't want any tea, for they wanted -some and didn't feel free to take it without she took some. They coaxed -her and made her see that it was her duty, and she said she'd have some -finally. - -So they all went out to the kitchen, taking along some of the best room -chairs, Elmira coming, too, and me tagging along. The first thing they -noticed was those flatirons on top of the cistern lid. Mis' Primrose -says that looks funny. But Mis' Rogers says Danny must have been playing -with them. “Were you playing they were horses, Danny?” - -I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I nodded. I -couldn't see any use hurrying things up. I was bound to get a licking -pretty soon anyhow. I could always bet on that. So they picked up the -flatirons, and as they picked them up there came a splashing noise in -the cistern. I thought to myself that Hank's corpse would be out of -there in a minute, and then I'd catch it. One woman says: “Sakes alive! -What's that noise?” - -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish and it must be some of the -biggest ones flopping around. If they hadn't been worked up and excited -and talking all together and thinking of Hank hanging out in the -blacksmith shop they might have suspicioned something, for that flopping -and splashing kept up steady. Maybe I should have mentioned sooner it -had been a dry summer and there was only three or four feet of water in -the cistern and Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. When -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish that woman opens the trap door -and looks in. Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out, he says -afterward. And he allows he'll keep quiet in there and make believe he -is drowned and give her a good scare and make her feel sorry for him. - -But when the cistern door was opened he heard a lot of clacking tongues -like a hen convention, and he allowed she had told the neighbours, and -he'd scare them, too. So he laid low. And the woman that looked in, she -sees nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale -that swallowed Jonah. But she left the door open and went on making tea, -and there wasn't scarcely a sound from that cistern, only little ripply -noises like it might have been fish. Pretty soon Mis' Rogers says: - -“It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?” Elmira kicked some more, -but she took hers. And each woman took hers. And one woman, a-sipping of -hers, she says: - -“The departed had his good points, Elmira.” - -Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town for years -and years. - -Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no -matter what come of it, and she ups and says: “I don't believe in any -hypocritics at a time like this, any more'n any other time. The departed -wasn't any good, and the whole town knows it, and Elmira ought to feel -like it's good riddance of bad rubbish, and such is my sentiments and -the sentiments of truth and righteousness.” - -All the other women sings out: “W'y, Mis' Primrose, I never!” But down -in underneath more of 'em agreed than let on to. Elmira she wiped her -eyes and says: - -“Hennery and me had our troubles, there ain't any use denying that, Mis' -Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. And -the whole town knows he has lifted his hand against me more'n once. But -I always stood up to Hennery and I fit him back, free and fair and open. -I give him as good as he sent on this earth and I ain't the one to carry -a mad beyond the grave. I forgive Hennery all the orneriness he did to -me, and there was a lot of it, as is becoming to a church member, which -he never was.” - -All the women but Mis' Primrose says: “Elmira, you _have_ got a -Christian sperrit!” Which did her a heap of good, and she cried -considerable harder, leaking out tears as fast as she poured tea in. -And each one present tried to think up something nice to say about -Hank, only there wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that cistern, -listening to every word of it. - -Mis' Rogers, she says: “Before he took to drinking like a fish, Hank -Walters was as likely a lookin' young feller as ever I see.” - -Mis' White, she says: “Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, anyhow. -Often and often White has told me about seeing Hank treating the crowd -down in Nolan's saloon just as come-easy, go-easy as if it wasn't money -he'd ought to have paid his honest debts with.” - -They sat there that way telling of what good points they could think of -for ten minutes, and Hank hearing it and getting madder and madder all -the time. By and by Tom Alexander came busting into the house. - -“What's the matter with all you women?” he says. “There's nobody hanging -in that blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, and it's -empty.” - -There was a pretty howdy-do, then, and they all sing out: - -“Where's the corpse?” - -Some thinks maybe someone has cut it down and taken it away, and all -gabbled at once. But for a minute or two no one thought that maybe -little Danny had been egged on to tell lies. And little Danny ain't -saying a word. But Elmira grabbed me and shook me and said: - -“You little liar, what do you mean by that story of yours?” - -I thought that licking was about due then. But whilst all eyes were -turned on me and Elmira, there came a voice from the cistern. It was -Hank's voice, but it sounded queer and hollow, and it said: - -“Tom Alexander, is that you?” - -Some of the women screamed, for they thought it was Hank's ghost. But -Mis' Primrose says: “What would a ghost be doing in a cistern?” - -Tom Alexander laughed and yelled down into the cistern: “What in blazes -you want to jump in there for, Hank?” - -“You darned ijut!” said Hank, “you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and -when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ask me what I wanted to jump in -here for!” - -“You never saw the day you could do it,” says Tom Alexander, meaning the -day Hank could lick him. “And if you feel that way about it you can stay -down there, for all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you any, -for a change.” And he left the house. - -“Elmira,” sings out Hank, mad and bossy, “you go get me a ladder!” - -But Elmira, her temper rose up, too, all of a sudden. - -“Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, -Hennery Walters,” she says. - -Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. “When I get out'n here,” he shouted, -“I'll give you what you won't forget in a hurry! I heard you a-forgivin' -me and a-weepin' over me! And I won't be forgive nor weeped over by no -one! You go and get that ladder!” - -But Elmira only answered: “You was drunk when you fell in there, Hank -Walters. And you can stay in there till you get a better temper on to -you.” And all the women laughed and said: “That's right, Elmira! Spunk -up to him!” - -There was considerable splashing around in the water for a couple of -minutes. And then, of a sudden, a live fish came a-whirling out of -that hole in the floor, which he catched with his hands. It was a big -bullhead, and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, -and it landed kerplump on to Mis' Rogers' lap, a-wiggling, and it horned -her on the hands. She was that surprised she fainted. Mis' Primrose, -she got up and licked the fish back into the cistern and said, right -decided: - -“Elmira Walters, if you let Hank out of that cistern before he's signed -the pledge and promised to jine the church, you're a bigger fool than I -take you for. A woman has got to make a stand!” - -And all the women sing out: “Send for Brother Cartwright! Send for -Brother Cartwright!” - -And they sent me scooting down the street to get him quick. He was the -preacher. I never stopped to tell but two or three people on the way to -his house, but they must have spread the news quick, for when I got back -with him it looked like the whole town was at our house. - -It was along about dusk by this time, and it was a prayer meeting night -at the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks that came -to the prayer meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait for him. But -she really told them where he'd gone, and what for. - -Mr. Cartwright marched right into our kitchen. All the chairs in the -house was in there, and the women were talking and laughing, and they -had sent to the Alexanderses for their chairs, and to the Rogerses for -theirs. Every once in a while there would be an awful burst of language -come rolling up from the hole where that unregenerate old sinner was -cooped up. - -I have travelled around considerable since those days, and I have mixed -up along with many kinds of people in many different places, and some -of them were cussers to admire. But I never heard such cussing before or -since as old Hank did that night. He busted his own records and he rose -higher than his own water marks for previous years. I wasn't anything -but a little kid then, not fit to admire the full beauty of it. They -were deep down cusses that came from the heart. Looking back at it after -these years, I can well believe what Brother Cartwright said himself -that night--that it wasn't _natural_ cussing, and that some higher -power, like a demon or an evil sperrit, must have entered into Hank's -human carcase and given that terrible eloquence to his remarks. It -busted out every few minutes, and the women would put their fingers into -their ears until a spell was over. And it was personal, too. Hank would -listen till he heard a woman's voice he knew, and then he would let -loose on her family, going back to her grandfathers and working downward -to her children's children. - -Brother Cartwright steps up to the hole in the floor and says gentle -and soothing like an undertaker when he tells you where to sit at a home -funeral: - -“Brother Walters! Oh, Brother Walters!” - -“Brother!” yelled Hank, “don't ye brother me, you snifflin', -psalm-singin', yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hyp-percrit, you! Get me a -ladder, gol dern ye, and I'll mount out o'here and learn ye to brother -me, I will!” Only that wasn't anything to what Hank really said; no more -like than a little yellow fluffy canary is like a turkey buzzard. - -“Brother Walters,” said the preacher, calm but firm, “we have all -decided that you aren't going to get out of that cistern until you sign -the pledge.” - -Then Hank told him what he thought of him and pledges and church doings, -and it wasn't pretty. He said if he was as deep in the eternal fire of -hell as he was in rain water, and every fish that nibbled at his toes -was a devil with a red-hot pitchfork sicked on by a preacher, they could -jab at him until the whole hereafter turned into icicles before he'd -sign anything that a man like Mr. Cartwright gave him to sign. Hank was -stubborner than any mule he ever nailed shoes on to, and proud of being -that stubborn. That town was a most awful religious town, and Hank knew -he was called the most unreligious man in it, and he was proud of that, -too; and if any one called him a heathen it just plumb tickled him all -over. - -“Brother Walters,” says the preacher, “we are going to pray for you.” - -And they did it. They brought all the chairs close up around the cistern -door, in a ring, and they all knelt down there with their heads on the -chairs and prayed for Hank's salvation. They did it up in style, too, -one at a time, and the others singing out, “Amen!” every now and then, -and they shed tears down on to Hank. - -The front yard was crowded with men, all laughing and talking and -chawing and spitting tobacco, and betting how long Hank would hold out. -Si Emery, that was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated -star, was out there with them. Si was in a sweat, because Bill Nolan, -who ran the saloon, and some more of Hank's friends were out by the -front fence trying to get Si to arrest the preacher. For they said that -Hank was being gradually murdered in that water and would die if he was -held there too long, and it would be a crime. Only they didn't come into -the house amongst us religious folks to say it. But Si, he says he don't -dare to arrest anybody, because Hank's house is just outside the village -corporation line; he's considerable worried about what his duty is, not -liking to displease Bill Nolan. - -Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright had rounded up at the prayer -meeting came stringing along in. They had brought their hymn books with -them, and they sung. The whole town was there then, and they all sung. -They sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank, he would just cuss and -cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would -start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard began to warm -up and sing, too, all but Nolan's crowd, and they gave Hank up for lost -and went back to the barroom. - -The first thing they knew they had a regular old-fashioned revival -meeting going there, and that preacher was preaching a regular revival -sermon. I've been to more than one camp meeting, but for just naturally -taking hold of the whole human race by the slack of the pants and -dangling of it over hell fire, I never heard that sermon equalled. Two -or three old backsliders in the crowd came right up and repented all -over again. The whole kit-and-biling of them got the power, good and -hard, and sung and shouted till the joints of the house cracked and it -shook and swayed on its foundations. But Hank, he only cussed. He was -obstinate, Hank was, and his pride and dander had risen up. - -“Darn your ornery religious hides,” he says, “you're takin' a low-down -advantage of me, you are! Let me out on to dry land, and I'll show you -who'll stick it out the longest, I will!” - -Most of the folks there hadn't had any suppers, so after all the sinners -but Hank had either got converted or sneaked away, some of the women -said why not make a kind of a love feast of it, and bring some victuals, -like they do at church sociables. Because it seemed that Satan was going -to wrestle there all night, like he did with the angel Jacob, and they -ought to be prepared. So they did it. They went and they came back with -things to eat and they made hot coffee and they feasted that preacher -and themselves and Elmira and me, right in Hank's hearing. - -And Hank was getting pretty hungry himself. And he was cold in that -water. And the fish were nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out -and weak and soaked full of despair. There wasn't any way for him to sit -down and rest. He was scared of getting cramps in his legs and sinking -down with his head under water and being drowned. - -He said afterward he would have done the last with pleasure if there -had been any way of starting a lawsuit for murder against that gang. So -along between ten and eleven o'clock that night he sings out: - -“I give in, gosh dern ye, I give in! Let me out and I'll sign your pesky -pledge!” - -Brother Cartwright was for getting a ladder and letting him climb out -right away. But Elmira said: “You don't know him like I do! If he gets -out before he's signed the pledge, he'll never do it.” - -So Brother Cartwright wrote out a pledge on the inside leaf of the -Bible, and tied it on to a string, and a pencil on to another string, -and let them down, and held a lantern down, too, and Hank made his -mark, for he couldn't write. But just as Hank was making his mark that -preacher spoke some words over Hank, and then he said: - -“Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the -church.” - -You might have thought that Hank would have broken out into profanity -again at that, for he hadn't agreed to anything but signing the pledge. -But he didn't cuss. When they got the ladder and he climbed up into -the kitchen, shivering and dripping, he said serious and solemn to Mr. -Cartwright: - -“Did I hear you baptizing me in that water?” - -Mr. Cartwright said he had. - -“That was a low-down trick,” said Hank. “You knowed I always made my -brags that I'd never jined a church and never would. You knowed I was -proud of that. You knowed it was my glory to tell it, and that I set -a heap of store by it, in every way. And now you've gone and took that -away from me! You've gone and jined me to the church! You never fought -it out fair and square, man strivin' to outlast man, like we done with -the pledge, but you sneaked it on to me when I wasn't lookin'!” - -And Hank always thought he had been baptized binding and regular. And -he sorrowed and grieved over it, and got grouchier and meaner and -drunkener. No pledge nor no Prohibition could hold Hank. He was a worse -man in every way after that night in the cistern, and took to licking me -harder and harder. - - - - -ACCURSED HAT - -I request of you a razor, and you present me with this implement! A -safety razor! One cannot gash oneself with your invention. Do you think -I rush to your apartment with the desire to barber myself? No, _milles -diables_, no! I 'ave embrace you for my friend, and you mock at my -despair. This tool may safely abolish the 'air from the lip of the -drummer when the train 'ave to wiggle, but it will not gash the jugular; -it will not release the bluest blood of France that courses through -one's veins. - -_Oui,_ I will restrain myself. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ I will make -myself of a calmness. I will explain. - -Yes, it is a woman. What else? At the insides of all despair it is a -woman ever. That is always the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the one best -bet. - -Listen. I love 'er. She own the 'ouse of which I am one of the lodgers, -in'abiting the chamber beneath the skylight. She is a widow, and I love -'er. Of such a roundness is she!--and she 'ave the restaurant beyond the -street. Of such a beauty!--and 'er 'usband, who was a Monsieur Flanagan, -'e leave 'er w'at you call well fix with life-insurance. So well fix, -so large, so brilliant of the complexion, so merry of the smile, so -competent of the ménage, of such a plumpness! 'Ow should it be that one -did not love 'er? - -But she? Does she smile on the 'andsome Frenchman who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber and paint and paint and paint all day long, and sell, -oh, so little of 'is paintings? _Hélas!_ She scarcely know that 'e -exist! She 'ave scarcely notice 'im. 'Ow is genius of avail? W'at is -wit, w'at is gallantry, w'at is manner--w'at is all these things w'en -one does not possess the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the front? _Hélas!_ -I love, but I 'ave not the front! My trousers are all of a fringe at the -bottom, and my collars are all of a frowsiness at the top. My sleeves -are of such a shine! And my 'at---- - -Ten thousand curses for the man that invented 'ats! You are my -friend--'ave you a pistol? Yes, I will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. I -will restrain myself. _Merci_, monsieur. - -My sleeves are of a sleekness; and my 'at----My 'at, I look at 'im. 'E -is--w'at you call 'im?--on the boom! I contemplate 'im sadly. I regard -'im with reproach. 'E is ridiculous. 'E look like 'e been kicked. -With such a 'at, who can enact the lover? With such a 'at, who can win -'imself a widow? I fly into a rage. I tear from my 'air. I shake my fist -at the nose of fate. I become terrible. I dash my 'at upon the floor, -and jump upon 'im with fury. Then I look at 'im with 'atred. 'E look -back at me with sorrow in 'is wrinkles. And, _Voilà!_--as I look at 'im -I 'ave a thought. The 'at, 'e straighten out from my jump. W'en my feet -is off, 'e rise a little way from 'is wrinkles where I crush 'im. 'E -lift 'imself slowly like a jack-in-the-box up from 'is disgrace. And I -'ave an idea. - -Monsieur, we Frenchmen are a people of resource! - -I take my thought to an agent of the advertising profession. I say I -'ave come to the place where I am willing to degrade my genius for -gold. I wish to eat more often. I wish to marry the widow I love. I -will forget my art; I will make some dollars; I will degrade myself -temporarily. The agent of advertising 'e say 'e 'ave no need of any -degradation, to take 'im somewhere else. But I explain, and behold! I am -engaged to go to work. They furnish me with clothes of a design the most -fashionable, and with a 'at of which I am myself the architect, and I go -to work. I 'ate it, but I go to work. - -The manner of my work is this. The 'at, 'e does it all. (_Accursed -'at!_) 'E is so built that on the outside 'e look like any other silk -'at. But 'e 'ave 'is secrets. 'E 'ave 'is surprises. On 'is inside there -is a clockwork and a spring. At intervals 'e separate 'imself in two in -the middle, and the top part of 'im go up in the air, slowly, one inch, -two inch, three inch, four inch, five inch, six inch--like a telescope -that open 'imself out. And w'at 'ave we then? _Voila!_ We 'ave a white -silk place, and on it is printed in grand letters: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -You see, my friend? It is now my profession, every afternoon for three -hours, to join the promenade; to display my 'at; to make fast in -the minds of the people 'ow fortunate a discovery is the anti-fat of -Monsieur Blinn. - -Monsieur, I am always the gentleman. Am I forced into a vulgar role? -Well, then, there is something about me that redeems it from vulgarity. -I am a movable advertisement, but none the less I am an advertisement of -dignity. Those clothes they furnish, I 'ave made under my own direction. -I adorn my foot in the most poetical of boots. Only a Frenchman might -'ave created my coat. My trousers are poems. I am dressed with that -inspiration of elegance which only a man of my imagination might devise. - -Monsieur, I am always the artist. That 'at, I nevaire let 'im go up with -a pop like a jacking-jump. 'E is not to startle the most sensitive of -ladies. W'en 'e arise, 'e arise slowly. 'E is majestic in 'is movement. -'E ascend with gravity. 'E go up with dignity. - -For three hours each day, I thus set aside my finer emotions. And all -the town smile; and many 'undreds rush to buy the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan---- - -Curses upon the perfidy of woman! Do not 'old me, I say! Let me go! I -will leap from your window to the stones below! Well, I will restrain -myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan does not perceive that I thus make of -my 'ead a billboard three hours each day? Monsieur, all Frenchmen are of -an originality w'en driven to it by fate, and not the least of them am -I! To 'er I am still the poor but 'andsome artist. It is in the parlours -of the agent of advertising that I dress myself, I don the 'at, each -day. I wear before my eyes a thick spectacles; I 'ide my black 'air -beneath a gray wig; I 'ave shave my own beard and each day put on -moustache and royal of a colour the same with the wig. There is no -danger that the grave foreigner, so courteous, so elegant, so much the -statesman, who condescend to advertise the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn, -shall be--shall be--w'at you call 'im?--spotted by the Widow Flanagan. -She does not connect 'im with the 'andsome artist who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber. To do so would be to kill my 'opes. For love is not to -be made ridiculous. - -I prosper. I 'ave money each week. I eat. I acquire me some clothes -which are not the same with those worn by the employee of Monsieur -Blinn. I buy me a silk 'at which 'ave no clockwork in 'is inside. I -acquire the--w'at you call 'im?--the front. I dine at the café of the -Widow Flanagan beyond the street. I chat with the Widow Flanagan w'en -I pay my check. Monsieur, the Widow Flanagan at las' know the 'andsome -Frenchman exist! The front, 'e work like a charm. 'E give the genius -beneath 'im the chance to show w'at 'e can do. The front, 'e make--'ow -you call 'im?--'e make good. - -'Ave I said enough? You are my friend; you see me, w'at I am. Is it -possible that the Widow Flanagan should look upon me and not be of a -flutter throughout? I 'ave said enough. She see me; she love me. With -women, it is always so! - -The day is name; we will marry. Already I look forward to the time that -I am no longer compelled to the service of the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. Already I indulge my fancy in my 'appiness with the beautiful -Widow Flanagan, whose 'usband 'ave fortunately die and leave 'er so ver' -well fix. But, _hélas!_ - -Grasp me! Restrain me! Again my grief 'ave overpower! 'Ave you a -rough-on-rats in the 'ouse? 'Ave you a poison? Yes, you are my friend. -Yes, I will restrain myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -The day is name. The day arrive. I 'ave shave. I 'ave bathe. I am 'appy. -I skip; I dance; I am exalt; all the morning I 'urn a little tune--O -love, love, love! And such a widow--so plump and so well fix! - -The wedding is at the 'ome of Madame Flanagan. Meantime, I am with a -friend. The hour approach. The guests are there; the priest is there; -the mother of the Widow Flanagan, come from afar, is there. We arrive, -my friend and me. It is at the door that we are met by the mother of -the Widow Flanagan. It is at the door she grasp my 'and; she smile, and -then, before I 'ave time to remove my 'at---- - -Accursed 'at! Restrain me! I will do myself a mischief! Well, yes, I -will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci_, my friend. - -I see 'er face grow red. She scream. She lift 'er and as if to strike -me. She scream again. I know not w'at I must think. The Widow Flanagan -she 'ear 'er mother scream. She rush downstairs. I turn to the Widow -Flanagan, but she 'as no eyes for me. She is gazing on my 'at. Monsieur, -then I know. I 'ave got the wrong one in dressing; and I feel that -accursed thing are lifting itself up to say to my bride and her mother: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -And be'ind the Widow Flanagan and 'er mother come crowding fifty guests, -and everyone 'as seen my 'at make those remarks! Accursed widow! The -door is slam in my face! I am jilted! - -Ah, laugh, you pigs of guests, laugh, till you shake down the dwelling -of the Widow Flanagan! Were it not that I remember that I once loved -you, Madame Flanagan, that 'ouse would now be ashes. - -Monsieur, I 'ave done. I 'ave spoken. Now I will die. 'Ave you a rope? -Well, I will calm myself. _Oui_, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci,_ monsieur! - - - - -ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN - -Football,” said Big Joe, the friendly waiter, laying down the sporting -page of my paper with a reminiscent sigh, “ain't what it was twenty -years ago. When I played the game it was some different from wood-tag -and pump-pump-pull-away. It's went to the dogs.” - -“Used to be a star, huh?” said I. “What college did you play with, Joe?” - -“No college,” said Joe, “can claim me for its alma meter.” - -He seated himself comfortably across the table from me, as the more -sociably inclined waiters will do in that particular place. “I don't -know that I ever was a star. But I had the punch, and I was as tough as -that piece of cow you're trying to stick your fork into. And I played in -one game the like of which has never been pulled off before or since.” - -“Tell me about it,” said I, handing him a cigar. Joe sniffed and tasted -it suspiciously, and having made sure that it wasn't any brand sold on -the premises, lighted it. There was only one other customer, and it was -near closing time. - -“No, sir,” he said, “it wasn't any kissing game in my day. Ever hear of -a place called Kingstown, Illinois? Well, some has and some hasn't. It's -a burg of about five thousand souls and it's on the Burlington. Along -about the time of the Spanish war it turned out a football team that -used to eat all them little colleges through there alive. - -“The way I joined was right unexpected to me. I happened into the place -on a freight train, looking for a job, and got pinched for a hobo. When -they started to take me to the lock-up I licked the chief of police and -the first deputy chief of police, and the second deputy, but the other -member of the force made four, and four was too many for me. I hadn't -been incarcerated ten minutes before a pleasant looking young fellow who -had seen the rumpus comes up to the cell door with the chief, and says -through the bars: - -“'How much do you weigh?' - -“'Enough,' says I, still feeling sore, 'to lick six longhaired dudes -like you.' - -“'Mebby,' says he, very amiable, 'mebby you do. And if you do, I've got -a job for you.' - -“He was so nice about it that he made me ashamed of my grouch... - -“'No offence meant,' says I. 'I only weigh 230 pounds now. But when I'm -getting the eats regular I soon muscles up to 250 stripped.' - -“'I guess you'll do,' says he, 'judging by the fight you put up. We need -strength and carelessness in the line.' - -“'What line is that?' says I, suspicious. - -“'From now on,' says he, 'you're right tackle on the Kingstown Football -Team. I'm going to get you a job with a friend of mine that runs a -livery stable, but your main duty will be playing football. Are you on?' - -“'Lead me to the training table,”' says I. And he paid me loose and done -it. - -“This fellow was Jimmy Dolan, and he had once played an end on Yale, -and couldn't forget it. He and a couple of others that had been off to -colleges had started the Kingstown Team. One was an old Michigan star, -and the other had been a half-back at Cornell. The rest of us wasn't -college men at all, but as I remarked before, we were there with the -punch. - -“There was Tom Sharp, for instance. Tom was thought out and planned and -preforedestinated for a centre rush by Nature long before mankind ever -discovered football. Tom was about seventeen hands high, and his style -of architecture was mostly round about. I've seen many taller men, but -none more circumferous as to width and thickness. Tom's chest was the -size and shape of a barrel of railroad spikes, but a good deal harder. -You couldn't knock him off his feet, but if you could have, it wouldn't -have done you any good, for he was just as high one way as he was -another--and none of it idle fat. Tom was a blacksmith during his -leisure hours, and every horse and mule for miles around knowed him -and trembled at his name. He had never got hold of nothing yet that was -solid enough to show him how strong he was. - -“But the best player was a big teamster by the name of Jerry Coakley. -Jerry was between six and eight feet high, and to the naked eye he was -seemingly all bone. He weighed in at 260 pounds _ad valorem_, and he -was the only long bony man like that I ever seen who could get himself -together and start quick. Tom Sharp would roll down the field calm and -thoughtful and philosophic, with the enemy clinging to him and dripping -off of him and crumpling up under him, with no haste and no temper, -like an absent-minded battleship coming up the bay; but this here Jerry -Coakley was sudden and nefarious and red-headed like a train-wreck. And -the more nefarious he was, the more he grinned and chuckled to himself. -'For two years that team had been making a reputation for itself, and -all the pride and affection and patriotism in the town was centred on to -it. I joined on early in the season, but already the talk was about the -Thanksgiving game with Lincoln College. This Lincoln College was a right -sizable school. Kingstown had licked it the year before, and there were -many complaints of rough play on both sides. But this year Lincoln had -a corking team. They had beat the state university, and early in the -season they had played Chicago off her feet, and they were simply -yearning to wipe out the last year's disgrace by devastating the -Kingstown Athletic Association, which is what we called ourselves. And -in the meantime both sides goes along feeding themselves on small-sized -colleges and athletic associations, hearing more and more about each -other, and getting hungrier and hungrier. - -“Things looked mighty good for us up to about a week before -Thanksgiving. Then one day Jerry Coakley turned up missing. We put in -48 hours hunting him, and at the end of that time there was a meeting -of the whole chivalry and citizenry of Kingstown in the opery hall to -consider ways and means of facing the public calamity. For the whole -town was stirred up. The mayor himself makes a speech, which is printed -in full in the Kingstown _Record_ the next day along with a piece that -says: 'Whither are we drifting?' - -“Next day, after practice, Jimmy Dolan is looking pretty blue. - -“'Cheer up,' says I, 'Jerry wasn't the whole team.' - -“'He was about a fifth of it,' says Captain Dolan, very sober. - -“'But the worst was yet to come. The very next day, at practice, a big -Swede butcher by the name of Lars Olsen, who played right guard, managed -to break his ankle. This here indignity hit the town so hard that it -looked for a while like Lars would be mobbed. Some says Lars has sold -out to the enemy and broke it on purpose, and the Kingstown _Record_ has -another piece headed: 'Have we a serpent in our midst?' - -“That night Dolan puts the team in charge of Berty Jones, the Cornell -man, with orders to take no risks on anything more injurious than signal -practice, and leaves town. He gets back on Wednesday night, and two guys -with him. They are hustled from the train to a cab and from the cab to -the American House, and into their rooms, so fast no one gets a square -look at them. - -“But after dinner, which both of the strangers takes in their rooms, -Dolan says to come up to Mr. Breittmann's room and get acquainted -with him, which the team done. This here Breittmann is a kind of -Austro-Hungarian Dutchman looking sort of a great big feller, with -a foreign cast of face, like he might be a German baron or a Switzer -waiter, and he speaks his language with an accent. Mr. Rooney, which is -the other one's name, ain't mentioned at first. But after we talk with -the Breittmann person a while Jimmy Dolan says: - -“'Boys, Mr. Rooney has asked to be excused from meeting any -one to-night, but you'll all have an opportunity to meet him -to-morrow--after the game.' - -“'But,' says I, 'Cap, won't he go through signal practice with us?' - -“Dolan and Breittmann, and Berty Jones, who was our quarterback and the -only one in the crowd besides Dolan who had met Mr. Rooney, looked at -each other and kind of grinned. Then Dolan says: 'Mr. Breittmann knows -signals and will run through practice with us in the morning, but not -Mr. Rooney. Mr. Breittmann, boys, used to be on the Yale scrub.' - -“'Dem vas goot days, Chimmie,' says this here Breittmann, 'but der -naturalist, Chimmie, he is also the good days. What?' - -“The next day, just before the game, I got my first glimpse of this -Rooney when he come downstairs with Breittmann and they both piled into -a cab. He wore a long overcoat over his football togs, and he had so -many headpieces and nose guards and things on to him all you could see -of his face was a bit of reddish looking whisker at the sides. - -“'He's Irish by the name,' says 1, 'and the way he carries them -shoulders and swings his arms he must have learned to play football -by carrying the hod.' He wasn't a big man, neither, and I thought he -handled himself kind of clumsy. - -“When we got out to the football field and that Lincoln College bunch -jumped out of their bus and began to pass the ball around, the very -first man we see is that there Jerry Coakley. - -“Yes, sir, sold out! - -“Dolan and me ran over to the Lincoln captain. - -“'You don't play that man!' says Dolan, mad as a hornet, pointing at -Jerry. Jerry, he stood with his arms crossed, grinning and chuckling to -himself, bold as Abraham Lincoln on the burning deck and built much the -same. - -“'Why not?' says the college captain, 'he's one of our students.' - -“'Him?' says I. 'Why, he's the village truck-driver here!' And that -there Jerry had the nerve to wink at me. - -“'Mr. Coakley matriculated at Lincoln College a week ago,' says the -captain, Jerry he grinned more and more, and both teams had gathered -into a bunch around us. - -“'Matriculated? Jerry did?' says Jimmy Dolan. 'Why, it's all Jerry can -do to write his name.' - -“'Mr. Coakley is studying the plastic arts, and taking a special course -in psychology,' says the captain. - -“'Let him play, Dolan,' says Tom Sharp. 'Leave him to me. I'll learn him -some art. I'll fix him!' - -“'O, you Tom!' says Jerry, grinning good-natured. - -“'O, you crook!' says Tom. And Jerry, still grinning good-natured, hands -Tom one. It took the rest of the two teams to separate them, and they -both started the game with a little blood on their faces. We made no -further kick about Jerry playing. All our boys wanted him in the game. -'Get him!' was the word passed down the line. And after that little -mix-up both sides was eager to begin. - -“We kicked off. I noticed this here Rooney person got down after the -kick-off rather slow, sticking close to his friend Breittmann. He was at -left tackle, right, between Breittmann at guard, and Dolan, who played -end. - -“Jerry, he caught the kick-off and come prancing up the field like a -prairie whirlwind. But Dolan and me got to him about the same time, and -as we downed him Tom Sharp, quite accidental, stepped on to his head -with both feet. - -“'Foul!' yells the referee, running up and waving his hand at Tom -Sharp. 'Get off the field, you! I penalize Kingstown thirty yards for -deliberate foul play!' - -“But Jerry jumped up--it took more'n a little thing like that to feaze -Jerry--and shoved the referee aside. - -“'No, you don't put him out of this game,' says Jerry. 'I want him in -it. I'll put him out all right!' - -“Then there was a squabble, that ended with half of both teams ordered -off the field. And the upshot of which was that everybody on both sides -agreed to abolish all umpires and referees, and get along without any -penalties whatever, or any officials but the time-keeper. No, sir, none -of us boys was in any temper by that time to be interfered with nor -dictated to by officials. - -“No, what followed wasn't hampered any by technicalities. No, sir, it -wasn't drop the handkerchief. There wasn't any Hoyle or Spalding or -Queensberry about it. It was London prize ring, _savate_, jiu juitsi and -Græco-Roman, all mixed up, with everybody making his own ground rules. -The first down, when Tom Sharp picked up that Lincoln College Captain -and hit Jerry Coakley over the head with him, five Lincoln College -substitutes give a yell and threw off their sweaters and run on to the -field. Then we heard another yell, and our substitutes come charging -into the fray and by the end of the first half there was eighteen men -on each side, including three in citizens' clothes who were using brass -knucks and barrel staves.” - -Joe paused a moment, dwelling internally upon memories evidently too -sweet for words. Then he sighed and murmured: “No, sir, the game ain't -what it was in them days. Kick and run and forward pass and such darned -foolishness! Football has went to the dogs! - -“Well,” he resumed, flexing his muscles reminiscently, “neither side -wasted any time on end runs or punts. It was punch the line, and then -punch the line some more, and during the first ten minutes of play the -ball didn't move twenty yards either way from the centre of the field, -with a row on all the time as to whose ball it ought to be. As a matter -of fact, it was whoever's could keep his hands on to it. - -“It was the third down before I noticed this fellow Rooney particular. -Then our quarterback sent a play through between guard and tackle. It -was up to Rooney to make the hole for it. - -“As the signal was give, and the ball passed back, Breittmann laid his -arm across Rooney's shoulders, and I heard him say something in Dutch to -him. They moved forward like one man, not fast, but determined like. A -big college duffer tried to get through Rooney and spill the play. This -here Rooney took him around the waist and slammed him on to the ground -with a yell like a steamship that's discovered fire in her coal bunkers, -and then knelt on the remains, while the play went on over 'em. I -noticed Breittmann had a hard time getting Rooney off of him. They -carried the fellow off considerably sprained, and two more Lincoln -College fellows shucked their wraps and run in to take his place. - -“The very next play went through the same hole, only this time the -fellow that went down under Rooney got up with blood soaking through his -shoulder padding and swore he'd been bit. But nobody paid any attention -to him, and the Lincoln boys put Jerry Coakley in opposite Rooney. - -“'You cross-eyed, pigeon-toed Orangeman of a hod-carrier, you,' says -Jerry, when we lined up, trying to intimidate Rooney, 'I'll learn you -football.' - -“But Rooney, with his left hand hold of Breittmann's, never said a word. -He just looked sideways up at Breittmann like he was scared, or mebby -shy, and Breittmann said something in Dutch to him. - -“That play we made five yards, and we made it through Jerry Coakley, -too, Mr. Rooney officiating. When Breittmann got his friend off Jerry, -Jerry set up and tried to grin, but he couldn't. He felt himself all -over, surprised, and took his place in the line without saying a word. - -“Then we lost the ball on a fumble, which is to say the Lincoln centre -jumped on to Tom Sharp's wrists with both feet when he tried to pass -it, and Jerry Coakley grabbed it. The first half closed without a score, -with the ball still in the centre of the field. - -“The second half, I could see right away, Jerry Coakley had made up his -mind to do up Rooney. The very first play Lincoln made was a guard's -back punch right at Rooney. I reckon the whole Lincoln team was in that -play, with Jerry Coakley in the van. - -“We got into it, too. All of us,” Joe paused again, with another -reflective smile. Pretty soon he continued. - -“Yes, sir, that was some scrimmage. And in the midst of it, whoever had -the ball dropped it. But for a minute, nobody seemed to care. And then -we discovered that them unsportsmanlike Lincoln College students had -changed to baseball shoes with metal spikes between the halves. We -hadn't thought of that. - -“After about a minute of this mauling, clawing mess, right out of the -midst of it rolled the ball. And then came this here Rooney crawling -after it--_crawling_ I say!--on his hands and feet. - -“He picked it up and straightened himself. - -“'Run, Rooney, run!' says I. And he had a clear field. But he didn't -seem to realize it. He just tucked that ball under one arm, and ambled. - -“Half a dozen of us fell in and tried to make interference for him--but -he wouldn't run; he just dog-trotted, slow and comfortable. And in a -second Jerry Coakley sifted through and tackled him. - -“Rooney stopped. Stopped dead in his track, as if he was surprised. And -then, using only one hand--only one hand, mind you--he picked that there -Jerry Coakley up, like he was an infant, give him one squeeze, and slung -him. Yes, sir, Jerry was all sort of crumpled up when he lit! - -“And he kept on, slow and easy and gentle. The Lincoln gang spilled the -interference. But that didn't bother Rooney any. Slow and certain and -easy he went down that field. And every time he was tackled he separated -that tackier from himself and treated him like he had Jerry. - -“Yes, sir, he strung behind him ten men out of the nineteen players -Lincoln College had in that game, as he went down the field. From where -I was setting on top of the Lincoln centre rush, I counted 'em as he -took 'em. Slow and solemn and serious like an avenging angel, Mr. Rooney -made for them goal posts, taking no prisoners, and leaving the wounded -and dead in a long windrow behind him. It wasn't legalized -football, mebby, but it was a grand and majestic sight to see that -stoop-shouldered feller with the red whiskers proceeding calmly and -unstoppably forward like the wrath of God. - -“Yes, sir, the game was ours. We thought it was, leastways. All he had -to do was touch that there ball to the ground! The whole of Kingstown -was drawing in its breath to let out a cheer as soon as he done it. - -“But it never let that yell. For when he reached the goal----” - -Here Joe broke off again and chuckled. - -“Say,” he said, “you ain't going to believe what I'm telling you now. -It's too unlikely. I didn't believe it myself when I seen it. But it -happened. Yes, sir, that nut never touched the ground with the ball! - -“Instead, with the ball still under one arm, he climbed a goal post. -Climbed it, I tell you, with both legs and one arm. And setting straddle -of that cross bar believe me or not, he began to shuck. In front of all -that crowd, dud after dud, he shucked. - -“And there wasn't no cheers then, for in a minute there he set, _a -monkey!_ Yes, sir, the biggest blamed monkey you ever seen, trying to -crack that football open on a goal post under the belief that it was -a cocoa-nut. Monkey, did I say? Monkey ain't any word for it! He was a -regular ape; he was one of these here orang-outang baboons! Yes, sir, a -regular gosh-darned Darwinian gorilla!” - -Joe took a fresh light for his cigar, and cocked his eye again at my -sporting supplement. “I notice,” he said, sarcastically, “Princeton -had a couple of men hurt yesterday in the Yale game. Well, accidents is -bound to happen even in ring-around-the-rosy or prisoner's base. What?” - - - - -TOO AMERICAN - -Is it a real English cottage?” we asked the agent suspiciously, “or is -it one that has been hastily aged to rent to Americans?” - -It was the real thing: he vouched for it. It was right in the middle -of England. The children could walk for miles in any direction without -falling off the edge of England and getting wet. - -“See here!” I said. “How many blocks from Scotland is it?” - -“Blocks from Scotland?” He didn't understand. - -“Yes,” I said, “blocks from Scotland.” I explained. My wife and I had -been trying to get a real English accent. That was one of the things we -had come to England for. We wanted to take it back with us and use it -in Brooklyn, and we didn't want to get too near Scotland and get any -Scottish dialect mixed up with it. It seemed that the cottage was quite -a piece from Scotland. There was a castle not far away--the fifteenth -castle on the right side as you go into England. When there wasn't any -wind you didn't get a raw sea breeze or hear the ocean vessels whistle. - -“Is it overgrown with ivy,” asked Marian, my wife. - -Yes, it was ivy-covered. You could scarcely see it for ivy--ivy that was -pulling the wall down, ivy as deep-rooted as the hereditary idea. - -“Are the drains bad?” I asked. - -They were. There would be no trouble on that score. What plumbing there -was, was leaky. The roof leaked. - -There was neither gas nor electricity, nor hot and cold water, nor -anything else. - -“I suppose the place is rather damp?” I said to the agent. “Is it chilly -most of the time? Are the flues defective? Are the floors uneven? Is the -place thoroughly uncomfortable and unsanitary and unhabitable in every -particular?” - -Yes, it had all these advantages. I was about to sign the lease when my -wife plucked me by the sleeve in her impulsive American way. “Is there a -bathroom?” she asked. - -“My dear Mrs. Minever,” said the agent with dignity, “there is not. I -can assure you that there are no conveniences of any kind. It is a real -English cottage.” - -I took the place. It was evening of the third day after we took -possession that I discovered that we had been taken in. All the other -Americans in that part of England were sitting out in front of their -cottages trying to look as if they were accustomed to them, and we--my -wife and Uncle Bainbridge and I--were sitting in front of ours trying to -act as English as we knew how, when a voice hailed me. - -“You are Americans, aren't you, sir?” said the voice. - -The voice was anyhow; so we shamefacedly confessed. - -“I thought you looked like it,” said the voice, and its owner came -wavering toward us through the twilight. - -“What makes you think we look like it?” I said, a trifle annoyed; for -it had been my delusion that we had got ourselves to looking quite -English--English enough, at least, so that no one could tell us in the -faint light. - -“Our clothes don't fit us, do they?” asked my wife nervously. - -“They can't fit us,” said I; “they were made in London.” - -I spoke rather sharply, I suppose. And as I was speaking, a most -astonishing thing happened--the person I had been speaking to suddenly -disappeared. He was, and then he was not! I sprang up, and I could tell -from my wife's exclamation that she was startled, too. As for Uncle -Bainbridge, he seldom gives way to emotion not directly connected with -his meals or his money. - -“Here, you!” I called out loudly, looking about me. - -The figure came waveringly into view again. - -“Where did you go to?” I demanded. “What do you mean by acting like -that? Who are you, anyhow?” - -“Please, sir,” said the wavery person, “don't speak so crosslike. It -always makes me vanish. I can't help it, sir.” - -He continued timidly: - -“I heard a new American family had moved here and I dropped by to ask -you, sir, do you need a ghost?” - -“A ghost! Are you----” - -“Yes, sir,” with a deprecating smile. “Only an American ghost; but one -who would appreciate a situation all the more, sir, for that reason. I -don't mind telling you that there's a feeling against us American ghosts -here in England, and I've been out of a place for some time. Maybe you -have noticed a similar feeling toward Americans? I'm sure, sir, you must -have noticed a discrimination, and----” - -“Don't say 'sir' all the time,” I told him. - -“Beg pardon, sir,” he rejoined: “but it's a habit. I've tried very hard -to fit myself to English ways and it's got to be second nature, sir. My -voice I can't change; but my class--I was a barber in America, sir--my -class I have learned. And,” he repeated rather vacantly, “I just dropped -by to see if you wanted a ghost. Being fellow Americans, you know, I -thought----” His voice trailed off into humble silence, and he stood -twisting a shadowy hat round and round in his fingers. - -“See here!” I said. “Should we have a ghost?” - -“Beg pardon, sir, but how much rent do you pay?” I told him. - -He answered politely but with decision, “Then, sir, in all fairness, you -are entitled to a ghost with the place. It gives a certain tone, sir.” - -“Why weren't we given one, then?” I asked - -“Well----” he said, and paused. If a ghost can blush with embarrassment, -he blushed. “You see,” he went on, making it as easy for me as he could, -“English ghosts mostly object to haunting Americans, just as American -ghosts find it difficult to get places in English houses and cottages. -You see, sir, we are----” - -He halted lamely, and then finished, “We're so _American_ somehow, sir.” - -“But we've been cheated!” I said. - -“Yes, sir,” said the American ghost, “regularly _had_” He said it in -quite an English manner, and I complimented him on his achievement. He -smiled with a child's delight. - -“Would I do?” he urged again, with a kind of timid insistence. - -My sympathies were with him. “You don't mind children?” I said. “We have -two.” - -“No,” he replied; “leastways, if they aren't very rough, I am not much -frightened of them.” - -“I guess,” I began, “that----” I was about to say that he would do, when -my wife interrupted me. - -“We do not want a ghost at all,” she said firmly. - -“But, my dear----” - -She raised her eyebrows at me, and I was silent. After looking from -one to the other of us wistfully for a moment, the applicant turned and -drifted away, vanishing dejectedly when he reached the gate. - -“You heard what he said, Henry?” said my wife as he disappeared. “It is -lucky that you have me by you! Do you want to saddle yourself with an -American ghost? For my part, I will have an English ghost or none!” - -I realized that Marian was right; but I felt sorry for the ghost. - -“What did--the fellow--want?” roared Uncle Bain-bridge, who is deaf, and -brings out his words two or three at a time. - -“Wanted to know--if we wanted--a ghost!” I roared in reply. - -“Goat? Goat? Huh-huh!” shouted Uncle Bain-bridge. “No, sir! Get 'em a -pony--and a cart--little cart! That's the best--thing--for the kids!” - -Uncle Bainbridge is, in fact, so deaf that he is never bothered by the -noises he makes when he eats. As a rule when you speak to him he first -says, “How?” Then he produces a kind of telephone arrangement. He plugs -one end into his ear, and shoves a black rubber disk at you. You talk -against the disk, and when he disagrees with you he pulls the plug out -of his ear to stop your foolish chatter, and snorts contemptuously. Once -my wife remarked to me that Uncle Bainbridge's hearing might be better -if he would only cut those bunches of long gray hair out of his ears. -They annoy every one except Uncle Bainbridge a great deal. But the plug -was in, after all, and he heard her, and asked one of the children in a -terrible voice to fetch him the tin box he keeps his will in. - -Uncle Bainbridge is _my_ uncle. My wife reminds me of that every now and -then. And he is rather hard to live with. But Marian, in spite of -his little idiosyncrasies, has always been generous enough to wish to -protect him from designing females only too ready to marry him for his -money. So she encourages him to make his home with us. If he married -at all, she preferred that he should marry her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwod. That was also Miss Sophia's preference. - -We did get a ghost, however, and a real English ghost. The discovery was -mine. I was sitting in the room we called the library one night, alone -with my pipe, when I heard a couple of raps in, on, about, or behind a -large bookcase that stood diagonally across one corner. It was several -days after we had refused the American applicant, and I had been -thinking of him more or less, and wondering what sort of existence he -led. One half the world doesn't know how the other half lives. I suppose -my reflections had disposed my mind to psychic receptivity; for when I -heard raps I said at once: - -“Are there any good spirits in the room?” It is a formula I remembered -from the days when I had been greatly interested in psychic research. - -Rap! rap! came the answer from behind the bookcase. - -I made a tour of the room, and satisfied myself that it was not a -flapping curtain, or anything like that. - -“Do you have a message for me?” I asked. - -The answer was in the affirmative. - -“What is it?” - -There was a confused and rapid jumble of raps. I repeated the question -with the same result. - -“Can you materialize?” - -The ghost rapped no. - -Then it occurred to me that probably this was a ghost of the sort that -can communicate with the visible world only through replying to such -questions as can be answered by yes or no. There are a great many of -these ghosts. Indeed, my experience in psychic research has led me to -the conclusion that they are in the majority. - -“Were you sent down by the agent to take this place?” I asked. - -“No!” It is impossible to convey in print the suggestion of hauteur and -offended dignity and righteous anger that the ghost managed to get into -that single rap. I have never felt more rebuked in my life; I have never -been made to feel more American. - -“Sir or madam,” I said, letting the regret I felt be apparent in my -voice, “I beg your pardon. If you please, I should like to know whose -ghost you are. I will repeat the alphabet. You may rap when you wish me -to stop at a letter. In that way you can spell out your information. Is -that satisfactory?” - -It was. - -“Who are you?” - -Slowly, and with the assured raps of one whose social position is -defined, fixed, and secure in whatever state of existence she may chance -to find herself, the ghost spelled out, “Lady Agatha Pelham.” - -I hope I am not snobbish. Indeed, I think I have proved over and over -again that I am not, by frankly confessing that I am an American. But -at the same time I could not repress a little exclamation of pleasure -at the fact that we were haunted by the ghost of a member of the -English aristocracy. You may say what you will, but there is a certain -something--a manner--an air--I scarcely know how to describe it, but it -is there; it exists. In England, one meets it so often--I hope you take -me. - -My gratification must have revealed itself in my manner. Lady Agatha -rapped out, if anything with more haughtiness than she had previously -employed--yes, even with a touch of defiance: - -“I was at one time a governess.” - -I gradually learned that while her own family was as good as the Pelham -family, Lady Agatha's parents had been in very reduced circumstances, -and she had had to become a governess. When Sir Arthur Pelham had -married her, his people acted very nasty. He hadn't any money, and they -had wanted him to marry some. He got to treating her very badly before -he died. And during his lifetime, and after it, Lady Agatha had had a -very sad life indeed. Still, you know, she was an aristocrat. She made -one feel that as she told her story bit by bit. For all this came very -gradually, as the result of many conversations, and not at once. We -speedily agreed upon a code, very similar to the Morse telegraphic code, -and we still further abbreviated this, until our conversations, after -a couple of weeks, got to be as rapid as that of a couple of telegraph -operators chatting over the wires. I intimated that it must be rather -rough on her to be haunting Americans, and she said that she had once -lived in our cottage and liked it. - -In spite of her aristocracy, I don't suppose there ever was a more -domestic sort of ghost than Lady Agatha. We all got quite fond of her, -and I think she did of us, too, in spite of our being American. Even -the children got into the habit of taking their little troubles and -perplexities to her. And Marian used to say that with Lady Agatha in -the house, when Uncle Bain-bridge and I happened to be away, she felt so -_safe_ somehow. - -I imagine the fact that she had once been a governess would have made -it rather difficult for Lady Agatha in the house of an English family of -rank. On the other hand, her inherent aristocratic feeling made it quite -impossible for her to haunt any one belonging to the middle or lower -classes. She could haunt us, as Americans, and not feel that the social -question mattered so much, in spite of what the American ghost had -hinted. We Americans are so unclassified that the English often take -chances with individuals, quite regardless of what each individual's -class would naturally be if he had a class. Even while they do this they -make us feel very often that we are hopelessly American; but they do it, -and I, for one, am grateful. Lady Agatha sympathized with our desire to -become as English as possible, she could quite understand that. I find -that many Englishmen approve the effort, although remaining confident -that it will end in failure. - -Lady Agatha helped us a great deal. We used to have lessons in the -evenings in the library. For instance, the children would stand at -attention in front of the bookcase, and repeat a bit of typical English -slang, trying to do it in an absolutely English way. They would do it -over and over and over, until finally Lady Agatha would give a rap -of approval. Or I would pretend that I was an Englishman in a railway -carriage, and that an American had just entered and I was afraid he -would speak to me. I got rather good at this, and made two or three -trips to London to try it out. I found that Americans were imposed on, -and actually in one instance I made one Englishman think that I was an -Englishman who thought he was an American. He was a nobody, however, -and didn't really count. And then, I am afraid, I spoiled it all. We -Americans so often spoil it all! I enjoyed it so that I told him. He -looked startled and said, “But how American!” He was the only Englishman -I ever fooled. - -But Lady Agatha's night classes were of great benefit to us. We used to -practise how to behave toward English servants at country houses, and -how to act when presented at court, and dozens of things like that: not -that we had been asked to a country house, or expected to be presented -at court soon. Marian and I had agreed that the greater part of this -information would be quite useless while Uncle Bainbridge was still -spared to us. Even in Brooklyn Uncle Bainbridge had been something of -a problem at times. But we thought it just as well to prepare ourselves -for the sad certainty that Uncle Bainbridge would pass into a better -world before many years. - -Uncle Bainbridge, who is very wealthy indeed, affects more informality -than the usual self-made man. He used to attend our evening classes with -a contemptuous expression upon his face, and snort at intervals. Once he -even called me “Puppy!” Then he thrust his telephone arrangement before -my face and insisted that I tell him whether I was sane or not. - -“Puppy!” he bellowed. “Quit apin' the English! I get along with 'em -myself--without any nonsense! Treat 'em white! Always treat me white! No -foolishness! Puppy!” - -My wife and I soon discovered that Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge were -on the most friendly terms. He would sit for hours in the library, -with his telephone receiver held patiently near the bookcase, shouting -questions and smiling and nodding over the answers. Marian and I were -afraid that Uncle Bainbridge, by his lack of polish, might offend Lady -Agatha. And at first it was her custom to hover about anxiously while -they were talking to each other. But Uncle Bainbridge discovered this, -and resented it to such an extent that she had to be cautious indeed. - -His talks with Lady Agatha became longer and longer, and more and more -frequent, until finally he received more of her attention than all the -rest of us put together. Indeed, we need not have worried about Uncle -Bainbridge's offending Lady Agatha: the friendship grew closer and -closer. We were certain finally that it was taking on a strong tinge of -sentimentality. One day my wife stopped me just outside the library door -and said in a whisper, indicating the general direction of Lady Agatha's -bookcase with a wave of her hand: - -“Henry, those two old things in there are calling each other Hiram and -Agatha!” - -I listened, and it was so. A week later I heard Uncle Bainbridge seated -by the bookcase, bellowing out a sentimental song. He was having a great -deal of difficulty with it, and in order that he might hear himself he -was singing with the black disk arrangement held directly in front of -his own mouth. - -I cannot say that Uncle Bainbridge became etherealized by the state of -his feelings toward Lady Agatha, whatever the exact state of his feeling -may have been. But he did change a little, and the change was for the -better. He cut out the bunches of gray hair from his ears, and he began -to take care of his fingernails. Lady Agatha was having a good influence -upon him. - -One day, as he and I were standing by the front gate, he suddenly -connected himself for speech and roared at me, with a jerk of his thumb -toward the house. - -“Fine woman!” - -“Who?” I shouted back. - -“Aggie.” - -“Why, yes. I suppose she--was.” - -“No nonsense!” he yelled. “Husband was a brute! Marry her myself! In -a minute--if possible. Ain't possible! Shame! Bet she could make--good -dumplings--apple dumplings! Huh!” - -Uncle Bainbridge is very fond of apple dumplings. His final test of a -woman is her ability to make good apple dumplings. Several women might -have married him had they been able to pass that examination. He can pay -no higher compliment to a woman than to be willing to believe her able -to make good dumplings. - -“Aggie, in there!” he roared again, impatient because I was slow -in answering. “Dumplings! That kind of woman--could have made--good -dumplings!” - -I felt, somehow, that it was going a bit too far to imagine Lady Agatha -at so plebeian a task as making apple dumplings. - -“Uncle Bainbridge,” I shouted, “the upper classes--in England--can't -make--apple dumplings!” - -Even as I shouted I was aware that some bypasser, startled at our loud -voices, was pausing just outside the gate. I turned to encounter for -a moment the haughty glare of the most English-looking elderly woman -I have ever seen. She had a large, high nose, and she was a large, -high-looking handsome woman generally. She said no word to me; but as -she stared her lips moved ever so slightly. I fancied that to herself -she said, “Indeed!” I have never felt more utterly superfluous, more -abjectly American. She turned from me with an air that denied my -existence, a manner that indicated that such things as I _could not_ -exist, and it would be foolish to try to make her believe they did -exist. She bowed to Uncle Bainbridge, smiled as he returned her bow, and -passed on. Uncle Bainbridge's eyes followed her admiringly. - -“'Mother fine woman!” he thundered, so that she must have heard him. -“Friend of mine! Sensible woman! No frills!” - -I tried to ask him who she was, when and where he had become acquainted -with her, and a dozen other questions; but Uncle Bainbridge unplugged -himself, cutting off all communication with the outer world, and -resolutely refused any information. That he should know the lady did not -surprise me, however. It had happened several times since we had been -in England that Uncle Bainbridge had become friendly with people whom -we did not know. We never got from him any exact idea as to the social -status of these persons, and indeed we always found that he had no -really definite ideas on that subject to communicate. - -Our dear Lady Agatha was almost the only English friend my wife and I -had made. - -My wife and I were very well contented that Uncle Bainbridge's feeling -for Lady Agatha should grow stronger and stronger. We argued that while -he was so intimately friendly with dear Lady Agatha he would not be so -likely to fall a prey to any person who might want to marry him for his -wealth. So we decided to encourage the friendship in every way possible, -and would have been only too glad to have it go on indefinitely. - -“I feel so at peace about Uncle Bainbridge now,” was the way my wife -expressed it, “with him and dear Lady Agatha so wrapped up in each -other.” - -But this cheerful condition of affairs was not destined to last many -weeks. One day my wife received a letter from her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwood. Cousin Sophia was in London, and would be with us on the -coming Saturday. She had spoken of the possibility of paying us a visit -while we were in England, and of course we had urged her to do so; -although at the time the possibility had seemed rather remote to us. - -Miss Sophia was past her first youth, but still very girlish at times. -Under her girlishness there was a grim determination. She had made up -her mind to marry Uncle Bainbridge. My wife, as I have already said, -had been inclined to favour the idea, since it would keep strangers from -getting hold of Uncle Bainbridge's money. But now that Uncle Bainbridge -and Lady Agatha were getting along so well together my wife had begun -to hope that Uncle Bainbridge would never marry anybody. We both thought -the friendship might become an ideal, but none the less overmastering, -passion; one of those sacred things, you know, of the sort that keeps a -man single all his life. If Uncle Bainbridge remained unmarried out of -regard for Lady Agatha, we agreed, it would be much better for him at -his time of life than to wed Miss Sophia. - -So we both considered Miss Sophia's visit rather inopportune. Not -that we felt that Uncle Bainbridge was predisposed toward her. On the -contrary, he had always manifested more fear than affection for -her. But, I repeat, she was a determined woman. The quality of her -determination needed no better evidence than the fact that she had, to -put it vulgarly, pursued her quarry across the seas. It was evident -that the citadel of Uncle Bainbridge's heart was to undergo a terrible -assault. As for him, when he heard she was coming, he only emitted a -noncommittal snort. - -Miss Sophia, when she arrived, had apparently put in the months since we -had seen her in resolute attempts at rejuvenation. She was more girlish -than I had known her in fifteen years. And she had set up a lisp. She -greeted Uncle Bainbridge impulsively, effusively. - -“You dear man,” she shrilled into his telephone, “you don't detherve -it, but gueth what I've brought you all the way acroth the ocean! A new -rethipe for apple dumplings!” - -“How?” said Uncle Bainbridge. “What say?” And when she repeated it he -said “Umph!” disconnected himself, and blew his nose loudly. He rarely -said anything to her but “Umph!” walking away afterward with now and -then a worried backward glance. - -When we told Miss Sophia about Lady Agatha, and she finally understood -the intimacy that had grown up between Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge, -she looked reproachfully at my wife, as if to say, “You have been -a traitor to my cause!” And then she announced very primly, quite -forgetting her lisp, “I am quite sure that I, for one, do not care to -make the acquaintance of this person!” - -“Cousin Sophia,” said my wife sharply, “what do you mean by that?” - -“I think, Cousin Marian, that my meaning is sufficiently clear.” - -“You forget,” rejoined my wife icily, “that dear Lady Agatha is our -guest.” - -Miss Sophia sniffed, and was silent. - -“Besides,” continued Marian, “what can you possibly have against her?” - -“Marian,” said Miss Sophia, “will you answer me one question?” - -“Perhaps, Cousin Sophia.” - -“Cousin Marian, where, I ask you, _where_ is Sir Arthur Pelham?” - -“Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?” My wife was genuinely puzzled -by the question, and so was I. - -“Exactly!” And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. “How should you know? -I imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the -circumstances, has not been very communicative.” - -“But, Cousin Sophia----” I began. - -She interrupted me. “Cousin Henry,” she said, “do you mean to say that -you approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married -woman entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady -Agatha Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are -susceptible when skillfully practised upon--especially with arts which I -have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry, shameless! -If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see that the -children were sent back to America before they become contaminated by -this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been so -corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous -relationship!” - -“I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia,” I ventured, “and for the -life of me I cannot see anything wrong.” - -It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am -bound to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur -had been alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady -Agatha forming any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir -Arthur had been in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, -she would have exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a -close friendship with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and -Lady Agatha were in the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir -Arthur. - -“Aristocrat or not,” she said, “she is indelicate, she is unladylike, -she is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to -whom she is not married.” - -“I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!” said my wife, white with -anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting. - -“It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such -a brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course,” said -Cousin Sophia. - -I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to -the winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she -might as well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my -wife is her only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be -permanent; for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far -many times before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got -over their temper. - -Miss Sophia, although certain now that she would receive no assistance -from my wife in her siege of Uncle Bainbridge, did not swerve from her -determination to subjugate him. I imagine it is rather difficult to give -battle when your rival is a ghost: the very intangibility of the tie -makes it hard to attack. Yet the person who is in the earth life has -certain advantages also. I do not know whether I have mentioned it -or not, but Miss Sophia could scarcely be called beautiful. One after -another, all her life, she had seen men upon whom she had set her -affection become the husbands of other women, and in her duel with the -ghost there was a quality of desperation that made the struggle, -every move of which I watched, extremely interesting. In spite of her -announcement that she did not care to meet Lady Agatha, she learned the -code by which she communicated with us, and did not absent herself from -our gatherings in the library. - -Miss Sophia must have been desperate indeed, or she would not have -resorted to the trick she used. About a week after Miss Sophia's arrival -Lady Agatha suddenly ceased to communicate with us. We grew alarmed, -wondering what could have happened to her, as the days passed and the -friendly rappings were not resumed. In the light of what happened later -I am sure that Miss Sophia deliberately drove Lady Agatha away. What -method she used I do not know. But if she had said to Lady Agatha -directly the things that she had said to us about her, the insult would -have been quite sufficient to make that proud and gentle spirit take her -departure. Likely Miss Sophia got into communication with Lady Agatha -and hurled at her the bitter question, “Where is Sir Arthur Pelham?” - Lady Agatha was not the person to enter into any vulgar quarrel, nor yet -to vouchsafe explanations concerning her personal affairs. - -Several days after Lady Agatha fell silent I heard Uncle Bainbridge -bellowing forth questions in the library. I was outside the house near -the library window, which was open. Thinking joyously that Lady Agatha -had returned to us, I stepped nearer to the window to make sure. I saw -at once, as I peeped in, that the bookcase, which set very near the -window, had been slightly moved. Miss Sophia, who was very thin, had -managed to introduce herself into the triangular space behind it--I had -mentioned that it set diagonally across one corner. She was -crouched upon the floor rapping out a conversation with Uncle -Bainbridge--impersonating Lady Agatha! Uncle Bainbridge, in front of the -bookcase, was apparently unsuspicious; nor did Miss Sophia suspect that -I saw her through the half-inch of window that commanded her hiding -place. - -“You must marry!” rapped Miss Sophia, in the character of Lady Agatha. - -“Who?” bellowed Uncle Bainbridge. - -“Miss Sophia Calderwood,” said the fake ghost. - -“Aggie, I'm hanged if I do!” yelled Uncle Bainbridge. “Ask -me--something--easy!” - -“Hiram, listen carefully,” began the false Lady Agatha. Then she told -him that this would be their last interview. Circumstances over which -she had no control compelled her to depart. She was to assume another -phase of existence upon another plane. She could not explain to him so -that he would understand. But her interest in him would never flag. -And she knew that he would be happier wedded to some good woman. It was -apparent to her that Miss Sophia would make him the ideal wife. He -would soon learn to love Miss Sophia. She had considerable difficulty in -getting the promise; but finally Uncle Bainbridge snorted out a pledge -that he would marry, and stumped away. - -That night he went to London. It was a week before he returned. I did -not communicate what I had seen and heard to Marion. The truth was, I -felt rather sorry for Miss Sophia. To resort to such a trick she must -have been desperate indeed. I tried to imagine what her life had been, -and not condemn her too harshly. And besides, if she was to marry Uncle -Bainbridge, which seemed settled now, I did not care to have her aware -that I knew her secret. - -During the absence of Uncle Bainbridge she became quietly radiant, as -befits one who knows that the battle is won. She was evidently certain -that he would speak definitely upon his return. - -The night that he came back he gathered us all about him in the library. -“Something to say! Important!” he shouted. - -We all assumed attitudes of attention. - -“Thinking maybe--get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge. It was just like -Uncle Bainbridge to announce the matter in the lady's presence before -having formally asked her; but I felt that it was a trifle hard on Miss -Sophia. But a glance at her reassured me on that score. She was flushed; -but it was the flush of triumph rather than the flush of embarrassment. - -“Bought a brewery!” said Uncle Bainbridge. “Good brewery! Good beer! -Like English beer! Like English people!” - -1 felt that this was a little irrelevant, and I am sure that Miss Sophia -felt the same way. - -“Bought a castle!” said Uncle Bainbridge, warming to the work. “Fine -castle! Like castles! Fix it up! Live in it! Settle here! Like England! -Fine country.” - -“A castle! Oh, how lovely!” shrilled Miss Sophia, clapping her hands -girlishly. “How lovely for all of us!” - -“Not invited!” roared Uncle Bainbridge, taking us all in with one -sweeping gesture. “None of you!” - -There was silence for a moment. - -“Going to get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge, rising to his feet. “Not -Sophia! Caught Sophia--behind bookcase! Knew all the time! Sneaky trick! -Marry fine woman! Henry saw her--over the fence that day! Fine woman! -Curate's mother here! Dumplings! Fine dumplings! Learned to make 'em -for me! She don't want--to get too thick--with any my relations! She -says--all of you--are too American!” - -And as Uncle Bainbridge blew his nose loudly and sat down there was a -sudden rattle of rapping from the bookcase: nothing so articulate as -a remark in the code, but a sound more like a ripple of well-bred -laughter. This was the last we ever heard from Lady Agatha, and I have -sometimes wondered just what she meant by it. It is so hard, sometimes, -to understand just what the English are laughing at. - - - - -THE SADDEST MAN - -The bench, the barrel, and the cracker box in front of Hennery McNabb's -general store held three men, all of whom seemed to be thinking. Two of -them were not only thinking but chewing tobacco as well. The third, -more enterprising than the other two, more active, was exerting himself -prodigiously. He was thinking, chewing tobacco, and whittling all at the -same time. - -Two of the men were native and indigenous to Hazel-ton. They drew their -sustenance from the black soil of the Illinois prairie on which the -little village was perched. They were as calm and placid as the -growing corn in the fields round about, as solid and self-possessed and -leisurely as the bull-heads in the little creek down at the end of Main -Street. - -The third man was a stranger, somewhere between six and eight feet high -and so slender that one might have expected the bones to pop through the -skin, if one's attention had not been arrested by the skin itself. For -he was covered and contained by a most peculiar skin. It was dark and -rubbery-looking rather than leathery, and it seemed to be endowed with -a life of its own almost independent of the rest of the man's anatomy. -When a fly perched upon his cheek he did not raise his hand to brush it -off. The man himself did not move at all. - -But his skin moved. His skin rose up, wrinkled, twitched, rippled -beneath the fly's feet, and the fly took alarm and went away from there -as if an earthquake had broken loose under it. He was a sad-looking man. -He looked sadder than the mummy of an Egyptian king who died brooding on -what a long dry spell lay ahead of him. - -It was this third man of whom the other two men were thinking, this -melancholy stranger who sat and stared through the thick, humid heat of -the July day at nothing at all, with grievous eyes, his ego motionless -beneath the movements of his rambling skin. He had driven up the road -thirty minutes before in a flivver, had bought some chewing tobacco -of Hennery McNabb, and had set himself down in front of the store and -chewed tobacco in silence ever since. - -Finally Ben Grevis, the village grave-digger and janitor of the church, -broke through the settled stillness with a question: - -“Mister,” he said, “you ain't done nothing you're afraid of being -arrested for, hev you?” - -The stranger slowly turned his head toward Ben and made a negative sign. -He did not shake his head in negation. He moved the skin of his forehead -from left to right and back again three or four times. And his eyebrows -moved as his skin moved. But his eyes remained fixed and melancholy. - -“Sometimes,” suggested Hennery McNabb, who had almost tired himself out -whittling, “a man's system needs overhaulin', same as a horse's needs -drenchin'. I don't aim to push my goods on to no man, but if you was -feelin' anyway sick, inside or out, I got some of Splain's Liniment for -Man and Beast in there that might fix you up.” - -“I ain't sick,” said the stranger, in a low and gentle voice. - -“I never seen many fellers that looked as sad as you do,” volunteered -Ben Grevis. “There was a mighty sad-lookin' tramp, that resembled you -in the face some, was arrested here for bein' drunk eight or nine years -ago, only he wasn't as tall as you an' his skin was different. After -Si Emery, our city marshal, had kep' him in the lock-up over Sunday and -turned him loose again, it come to light he was wanted over in I'way for -killin' a feller with a piece of railroad iron.” - -“I ain't killed anybody with any railroad iron over in I'way,” said the -lengthy man. And he added, with a sigh: “Nor nowheres else, neither.” - -Hennery McNabb, who disagreed with everyone on principle--he was the -Village Atheist, and proud of it--addressed himself to Ben Grevis. “This -feller ain't nigh as sad-lookin' as that tramp looked,” said Hennery. -“I've knowed any number of fellers sadder-lookin' than this feller -here.” - -“I didn't say this feller here was the saddest-lookin' feller I ever -seen,” said Ben Grevis. “All I meant was that he is sadder-lookin' than -the common run of fellers.” While Hennery disagreed with all the world, -Ben seldom disagreed with any one but Hennery. They would argue by the -hour, on religious matters, always beginning with Hennery's challenge: -“Ben Grevis, tell me just one thing if you can, _where_ did Cain get his -wife?” and always ending with Ben's statement: “I believe the Book from -kiver to kiver.” - -The tall man with the educated skin--it was educated, very evidently, -for with a contraction of the hide on the back of his hand he -nonchalantly picked up a shaving that had blown his way--spoke to Ben -and Hennery in the soft and mild accents that seemed habitual to him: - -“Where did you two see sadder-lookin' fellers than I be?” - -“Over in Indianny,” said Hennery, “there's a man so sad that you're one -of these here laughin' jackasses 'longside o' him.” - -And, being encouraged, Hennery proceeded. - -This here feller (said Hennery McNabb) lived over in Brown County, -Indianny, but he didn't come from there original. He come from down in -Kentucky some-wheres and his name was Peevy, Bud Peevy. He was one of -them long, lank fellers, like you, stranger, but he wasn't as long and -his skin didn't sort o' wander around and wag itself like it was a tail. - -It was from the mountain districts he come. I was visitin' a brother of -mine in the county-seat town of Brown County then, and this Bud Peevy -was all swelled up with pride when I first knowed him. He was proud -of two things. One was that he was the champeen corn-licker drinker -in Kentucky. It was so he give himself out. And the other thing he -was prouder yet of. It was the fact, if fact it was, that he was the -Decidin' Vote in a national election--that there election you all -remember, the first time Bryan run for President and McKinley was -elected. - -This here Bud Peevy, you understand, wasn't really sad when I first -knowed him: he only _looked_ sad. His sadness that matched his innard -feelin's up to his outward looks come on to him later. He was all-fired -proud when I first knowed him. He went expandin' and extendin' of -himself around everywheres tellin' them Indianny people how it was him, -personal, that elected McKinley and saved the country from that there -free-silver ruination. And the fuller he was of licker, the longer he -made this here story, and the fuller, as you might say, of increditable -strange events. - -Accordin' to him, on that election day in 1896 he hadn't planned to go -and vote, for it was quite a ways to the polls from his place and his -horse had fell lame and he didn't feel like walkin'. He figgered his -district would go safe for McKinley, anyhow, and he wouldn't need to -vote. He was a strong Republican, and when a Kentuckian is a Republican -there ain't no stronger kind. - -But along about four o'clock in the afternoon a man comes ridin' up to -his house with his horse all a lather of foam and sweat, and the horse -was one of these here Kentucky thoroughbred race horses that must 'a' -travelled nigh a mile a minute, to hear Bud Peevy tell of it, and that -horse gives one groan like a human bein' and falls dead at Bud Peevy's -feet afore the rider can say a word, and the rider is stunned. - -But Bud Peevy knowed him for a Republican county committeeman, and he -poured some corn licker down his throat and he revived to life again. -The feller yells to Bud as soon as he can get his breath to go to town -and vote, quick, as the polls will close in an hour, and everybody else -in that district has voted but Bud, and everyone has been kep' track of, -and the vote is a tie. - -It's twelve miles to the pollin' place from Bud's farm in the hills -and it is a rough country, but Bud strikes out runnin' acrost hills and -valleys with three pints of corn licker in his pockets for to refresh -himself from time to time. Bud, he allowed he was the best runner in -Kentucky, and he wouldn't 'a' had any trouble, even if he did have to -run acrost mountains and hurdle rocks, to make the twelve miles in an -hour, but there was a lot of cricks and rivers in that country and -there had been a gosh-a-mighty big rain the night before and all them -cricks had turned into rivers and all them rivers had turned into -roarin' oceans and Niagara catarac's. But Bud, he allows he is the best -swimmer in Kentucky, and when he comes to a stream he takes a swig of -corn licker and jumps in and swims acrost, boots and all--for he was -runnin' in his big cowhides, strikin' sparks of fire from the mountains -with every leap he made. - -Five times he was shot at by Democrats in the first six miles, and in -the seventh mile the shootin' was almost continual, and three or four -times he was hit, but he kep' on. It seems the Democrats had got wind he -had been sent for to turn the tide and a passel of 'em was out among the -hills with rifles to stop him if they could. But he is in too much of a -hurry to bandy words with 'em, and he didn't have his gun along, which -he regretted, he says, as he is the best gun fighter in Kentucky and he -keeps on a-runnin' and a-swimmin' and a-jumpin' cricks and a-hurdlin' -rocks with the bullets whizzin' around him and the lightnin' strikin' in -his path, for another big storm had come up, and no power on this here -earth could head him off, he says, for it come to him like a Voice from -on High he was the preordained messenger and hero who was goin' to turn -the tide and save the country from this here free-silver ruination. -About two miles from the pollin' place, jist as he jumps into the last -big river, two men plunges into the water after him with dirks, and -one of them he gets quick, but the other one drags Bud under the water, -stabbin' and jabbin' at him. There is a terrible stabbin' and stickin' -battle way down under the water, which is runnin' so fast that big -stones the size of a cow is being rolled down stream, but Bud he don't -mind the stones, and he can swim under water as well as on top of it, he -says, and he's the best knife fighter in Kentucky, he says, and he soon -fixes that feller and swims to shore with his knife in his teeth, and -now he's only got one more mountain to cross. - -But a kind of hurricane has sprung up and turned into a cyclone in there -among the hills, and as he goes over the top of that last mountain, -lickety-split, in the dark and wind and rain, he blunders into a whole -passel of rattlesnakes that has got excited by the elements. But he fit -his way through 'em, thankin' God he had nearly a quart of licker left -to take for the eight or ten bites he got, and next there rose up in -front of him two of them big brown bears, and they was wild with rage -because the storm had been slingin' boulders at 'em. One of them bears -he sticked with his knife and made short work of, but the other one give -him quite a tussel, Bud says, afore he conquered it and straddled it. -And it was a lucky thing for him, he says, that he caught that bear -in time, for he was gittin' a leetle weak with loss of blood and snake -bites and battlin' with the elements. Bud, he is the best rider in -Kentucky, and it wasn't thirty seconds afore that bear knowed a master -was a-ridin' of it, and in five minutes more Bud, he gallops up to that -pollin' place, right through the heart of the hurricane, whippin' that -bear with rattlesnakes to make it go faster, and he jumps off and cracks -his boot heels together and gives a yell and casts the decidin' vote -into the ballot box. He had made it with nearly ten seconds to spare. - -Well, accordin' to Bud Peevy that there one vote carries the day for -McKinley in that county and not only in that county alone, but in that -electorial district, and that electorial district gives McKinley the -State of Kentucky, which no Republican had ever carried Kentucky for -President for afore. And two or three other States was hangin' back -keepin' their polls open late to see how Kentucky would go, and when -it was flashed by telegraph all over the country that Bud Peevy was -carryin' Kentucky for McKinley, them other States joined in with -Kentucky and cast their electorial votes that-a-way, too, and McKinley -was elected President. - -So Bud figgers he has jist naturally elected that man President and -saved the country--he is the one that was the Decidin' Vote for this -whole derned republic. And, as I said, he loves to tell about it. It was -in 1896 that Bud saved the country and it was in 1900 that he moved to -Brown County, Indianny, and started in with his oratin' about what a -great man he was, and givin' his political opinions about this, that -and the other thing, like he might 'a' been President himself. Bein' the -Decidin' Vote that-a-way made him think he jist about run this country -with his ideas. - -He's been hangin' around the streets in his new home, the county town of -Brown County, for five or six weeks, in the summer of 1900, tellin' what -a great feller he is, and bein' admired by everybody, when one day the -news comes that the U. S. Census for 1900 has been pretty nigh finished, -and that the Centre of Population for the whole country falls in Brown -County. Well, you can understand that's calculated to make folks in that -county pretty darned proud. - -But the proudest of them all was a feller by the name of Ezekiel -Humphreys. It seems these here government sharks had it figgered out -that the centre of population fell right on to where this here Zeke -Humphrey's farm was, four or five miles out of town. - -And Zeke, he figgers that he, himself, personal, has become the Centre -of Population. - -Zeke hadn't never been an ambitious man. He hadn't never gone out and -courted any glory like that, nor schemed for it nor thought of it. But -he was a feller that thought well enough of himself, too. He had been a -steady, hard-workin' kind of man all his life, mindin' his own business -and payin' his debts, and when this here glory comes to him, bein' chose -out of ninety millions of people, as you might say, to be the one and -only Centre of Population, he took it as his just due and was proud of -it. - -“You see how the office seeks the man, if the man is worthy of it!” - says Zeke. And everybody liked Zeke that knowed him, and was glad of his -glory. - -Well, one day this here Decidin' Vote, Bud Peevy, comes to town to -fill himself up on licker and tell how he saved the country, and he is -surprised because he don't get nobody to listen to him. And pretty soon -he sees the reason for it. There's a crowd of people on Main Street all -gathered around Zeke Humphreys and all congratulatin' him on being the -Centre of Population. And they was askin' his opinion on politics and -things. Zeke is takin' it modest and sensible, but like a man that -knowed he deserved it, too. Bud Peevy, he listens for a while, and he -sniffs and snorts, but nobody pays any 'tention to him. Finally, he -can't keep his mouth shut any longer, and he says: - -“Politics! Politics! To hear you talk, a fellow'd think you really got a -claim to talk about politics!” - -Zeke, he never was any trouble hunter, but he never run away from it, -neither. - -“Mebby,” says Zeke, not het up any, but right serious and -determined-like, “mebby you got more claim to talk about politics than I -have?” - -“I shore have,” says Bud Peevy. “I reckon I got more claim to be -hearkened to about politics than any other man in this here whole -country. I'm the Decidin' Vote of this here country, I am!” - -“Well, gosh-ding my melts!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You ain't proud of -yourself, nor nothin', are you?” - -“No prouder nor what I got a right to be,” says Bud Peevy, “considerin' -what I done.” - -“Oh, yes, you be!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You been proudin' yourself -around here for weeks now all on account o' that decidin' vote business. -And _anybody_ might 'a' been a Decidin' Vote. A Decidin' Vote don't -amount to nothin' 'longside a Centre of Population.” - -“Where would your derned population be if I hadn't went and saved this -here country for 'em?” asks Bud Peevy. - -“Be?” says Zeke. “They'd be right where they be now, if you'd never been -born nor heard tell on, that's where they'd be. And I'd be the centre of -'em, jist like I be now!” - -“And what _air_ you now?” says Bud Peevy, mighty mean and -insultin'-like. “You ain't nothin' but a accident, you ain't! What I -got, I fit for and I earnt. But you ain't nothin' but a happenin'!” - -Them seemed like mighty harsh words to Zeke, for he figgered his glory -was due to him on account of the uprighteous life he always led, and so -he says: - -“Mister, anybody that says I ain't nothin' but a happenin' is a liar.” - -“1 kin lick my weight in rattlesnakes,” yells Bud Peevy, “and I've done -it afore this! And I tells you once again, and flings it in your face, -that you ain't nothin' but a accidental happenin'!” - -“You're a liar, then!” says Zeke. - -With that Bud Peevy jerks his coat off and spits on to his hands. - -“Set yo'self, man,” says he; “the whirlwind's cornin'!” And he makes -a rush at Zeke. Bud is a good deal taller'n Zeke, but Zeke is sort o' -bricky-red and chunky like a Dutch Reformed Church, and when this here -Peevy comes on to him with a jump Zeke busts him one right on to the -eye. It makes an uncheerful noise like 1 heard one time when Dan Lively, -the butcher acrost the street there, hit a steer in the head with a -sledge hammer. Bud, he sets down sudden, and looks surprised out of -the eye that hadn't went to war yet. But he must 'a' figgered it was a -accident for he don't set there long. He jumps up and rushes again. - -“I'm a wildcat! I'm a wildcat!” yells this here Bud. And Zeke, he -collisions his fist with the other eye, and Bud sets down the second -time. I won't say this here Zeke's hands was as big as a quarter of -beef. The fact is, they wasn't that big. But I seen that fight myself, -and there was somethin' about the size and shape of his fist when it -was doubled up that kind o' _reminded_ me of a quarter of beef. Only his -fists was harder than a quarter of beef. I guess Zeke's fists was about -as hard as a hickory log that has been gettin' itself soaked and dried -and seasoned for two or three years. I heard a story about Zeke and a -mule that kicked him one time, but I didn't see it myself and I dunno' -as it's all true. The word was that Zeke jist picked up that mule after -it kicked him and frowned at it and told it if it ever done that again -he would jist naturally pull off the leg that it kicked him with -and turn it loose to hop away on three legs, and he cuffed that mule -thorough and thoughtful and then he took it by one hind leg and fore leg -and jounced it against a stone barn and told it to behave its fool self. -It always seemed to me that story had been stretched a mite, but that -was one of the stories they telled on Zeke. - -But this here Bud Peevy is game. He jumps up again with his two eyes -lookin' like a skillet full of tripe and onions and makes another rush -at Zeke. And this time he gets his hands on to Zeke and they rastles -back and forth. But Bud, while he is a strong fellow, he ain't no ways -as strong as a mule even if he is jist as sudden and wicked, so Zeke -throws him down two or three times. Bud, he kicks Zeke right vicious -and spiteful into the stomach, and when he done that Zeke began to get -a little cross. So he throwed Bud down again and this time he set on top -of him. - -“Now, then,” says Zeke, bangin' Bud's head on to the sidewalk, “am I a -happenin', or am I on purpose?” - -“Lemme up,” says Bud. “Leggo my whiskers and lemme up! You ain't licked -me any, but them ol' wounds I got savin' this country is goin' to bust -open ag'in. I kin feel 'em bustin'.” - -“I didn't start this,” says Zeke, “but I'm a-goin' to finish it. Now, -then, am I a accident, or was I meant?” - -“It's a accident you ever got me down,” says Bud, “Whether you are a -accident yourself or not.” - -Zeke jounces his head on the sidewalk some more and he says: “You answer -better nor that! You go further! You tell me whether I'm on purpose or -not!” - -“You was meant for somethin',” says Bud, “but you can't make me say -what! You can bang my head off and I won't say what. Two or three of -them bullets went into my neck right where you're bendin' it and I feel -them ol' wounds bustin' open.” - -“I don't believe you got no ol' wounds,” says Zeke, “and I don't believe -you ever saved no country and I'm gonna keep you here till I've banged -some sense and politeness into your head.” - -Bud, he gives a yell and a twist, and bites Zeke's wrist; Zeke slapped -him some, and Bud ketched one of Zeke's fingers into his mouth and nigh -bit it off afore Zeke got it loose. Zeke, he was a patient man and right -thoughtful and judicious, but he had got kind o' cross when Bud kicked -him into the stomach, and now this biting made him a leetle mite -crosser. I cal'ated if Bud wasn't careful he'd get Zeke really riled up -pretty soon and get his fool self hurt. Zeke, he takes Bud by the ears -and slams his head till I thought the boards in that sidewalk was goin' -to be busted. - -“Now, then,” says Zeke, lettin' up for a minute, “has the Centre of -Population got a right to talk politics, or ain't he? You say he is got -a right, or I mebby will fergit myself and get kind o' rough with you.” - -“This here country I saved is a free country,” says Bud Peevy, kind o' -sick an' feeble, “and any one that lives in this here country I saved -has got a right to talk politics, I reckon.” - -Zeke, he took that for an answer and got good-natured and let Bud up. -Bud, he wipes the blood off'n his face and ketches his breath an' gits -mean again right away. - -“If my constitution hadn't been undermined savin' this here country,” - says Bud, “you never could 'a' got me down like that! And you ain't -heard the end of this argyment yet, neither! I'm a-goin' for my gun, and -we'll shoot it out!” - -But the townspeople interfered and give Bud to understand he couldn't -bring no guns into a fight, like mebby he would 'a' done in them -mountain regions he was always talkin' about; an' told him if he was to -start gunnin' around they would get up a tar-and-feather party and he -would be the reception committee. They was all on Zeke's side and they'd -all got kind o' tired listenin' to Bud Peevy, anyhow. Zeke was their own -hometown man, and so they backed him. All that glory had come to Brown -County and they wasn't goin' to see it belittled by no feller from -another place. - -Bud Peevy, for two or three weeks, can't understand his glory has left -him, and he goes braggin' around worse than ever. But people only grins -and turns away; nobody will hark to him when he talks. When Bud tries -to tell his story it gets to be quite the thing to look at him and -say: “Lemme up! Leggo my whiskers! Lemme up!”--like he said when Zeke -Humphreys had him down. And so it was he come to be a byword around -town. Kids would yell at him on the street, to plague him, and he would -get mad and chase them kids, and when folks would see him runnin' after -the kids they would yell: “Hey! Hey, Bud Peevy! You could go faster if -you was to ride a bear!” Or else they would yell: “Whip yourself with a -rattlesnake, Bud, and get up some speed!” - -His glory had been so big and so widespread for so long that when it -finally went, there jist wasn't a darned thing left to him. His heart -busted in his bosom. He wouldn't talk about nothin'. He jist slinked -around. He was most pitiful because he wasn't used to misfortune like -some people. - -And he couldn't pack up his goods and move away from that place. For he -had come there to live with a married daughter and his son-in-law, and -if he left there he would have to get a steady job working at somethin' -and support himself. And Bud didn't want to risk that. For that wild run -he made the time he saved the country left him strained clean down to -the innards of his constitution, he says, and he wa'n't fit to work. But -the thing that put the finishing touches on to him was when a single -daughter that he had fell into love with Zeke Humphreys, who was a -widower, and married herself to him. His own flesh and blood has -disowned him, Bud says. So he turns sad, and he was the saddest man 1 -ever seen. He was sadder than you look to be, stranger. - -The stranger with the educated skin breathed a gentle sigh at the -conclusion of Hennery's tale of the Deciding Vote and the Centre of -Population, and then he said: - -“I don't doubt Bud Peevy was a sad man. But there's sadder things -than what happened to Bud Peevy. There's things that touches the heart -closer.” - -“Stranger,” said Ben Grevis, “you've said it! But Hennery, here, don't -know anything about the heart bein' touched.” - -Hennery McNabb seemed to enjoy the implication, rather than to resent -it. Ben Grevis continued: - -“A sadder thing than what happened to Bud Peevy is goin' on a good deal -nearer home than Indianny. - -“I ain't the kind of a feller that goes running to Indianny and to -Kentucky and all over the known earth for examples of sadness, nor -nothin' else. We got as good a country right here in Illinois as there -is on top of the earth and I'm one that always sticks up for home folks -and home industries. Hennery, here, ain't got any patriotism. And he -ain't got any judgment. He don't know what's in front of him. But right -here in our home county, not five miles from where we are, sets a case -of sadness that is one of the saddest I ever seen or knowed about. - -“Hennery, here, he don't know how sad it is, for he's got no finer -feelin's. A free thinker like Hennery can't be expected to have no finer -feelin's. And this case is a case of a woman.” - -“A woman!” sighed the stranger. “If a woman is mixed up with it, it -could have finer feelin's and sadness in it!” And a ripple of melancholy -ran over him from head to foot. - -This here woman (said Ben Grevis) lives over to Hickory Grove, in the -woods, and everybody for miles around calls her Widder Watson. - -Widder Watson, she has buried four or five husbands, and you can see her -any day that it ain't rainin' settin' in the door of her little -house, smokin' of her corn-cob pipe, and lookin' at their graves and -speculatin' and wonderin'. I talked with her a good deal from time -to time durin' the last three or four years, and the things she is -speculatin' on is life and death, and them husbands she has buried, -and children. But that ain't what makes her so sad. It's wishin' for -somethin' that, it seems like, never can be, that is makin' her so sad. - -She has got eighteen or twenty children, Widder Watson has, runnin' -around them woods. Them woods is jist plumb full of her children. You -wouldn't dare for to try to shoot a rabbit anywhere near them woods for -fear of hittin' one. - -And all them children has got the most beautiful and peculiar names, -that Widder Watson got out of these here drug-store almanacs. She's been -a great reader all her life, Widder Watson has, but all her readin' has -been done in these here almanacs. You know how many different kinds -of almanacs there always are layin' around drug-stores, I guess. Well, -every two or three months Widder Watson goes to town and gets a new -bale of them almanacs and then she sets and reads 'em. She goes to -drug-stores in towns as far as twelve or fifteen miles away to keep -herself supplied. - -She never cared much for readin' novels and story papers, she tells me. -What she wants is somethin' that has got some true information in it, -about the way the sun rises, and the tides in the oceans she has never -saw, and when the eclipses is going to be, and different kinds of -diseases new and old, and receipts for preserves and true stories about -how this or that wonderful remedy come to be discovered. Mebby it was -discovered by the Injuns in this country, or mebby it was discovered -by them there Egyptians in the old country away back in King Pharaoh's -time, and mebby she's got some of the same sort of yarbs and plants -right there in her own woods. Well, Widder Watson, she likes that kind -o' readin', and she knows all about the Seven Wonders of the World, and -all the organs and ornaments inside the human carcass, and the kind o' -pains they are likely to have and all about what will happen to you if -the stars says this or that and how long the Mississippi River is and a -lot of them old-time prophecies of signs and marvels what is to come to -pass yet. You know about what the readin' is in them almanacs, mebby. - -Widder Watson, she has got a natural likin' for fine words, jist the -same as some has got a gift for hand-paintin' or playin' music or -recitin' pieces of poetry or anything like that. And so it was quite -natural, when her kids come along, she names 'em after the names in her -favourite readin' matter. And she gets so she thinks more of the names -of them kids than of nearly anything else. I ain't sayin' she thinks -more of the names than she does of the kids, but she likes the names -right next to the kids. Every time she had a baby she used to sit and -think for weeks and weeks, so she tells me, for to get a good name for -that baby, and select and select and select out of them almanacs. - -Her oldest girl, that everybody calls Zody, is named Zodiac by rights. -And then there's Carty, whose real name is Cartilege, and Anthy, whose -full name is Anthrax, and so on. There's Peruna and Epidermis and -Epidemic and Pisces. - -I dunno as I can remember all them swell names. There's Perry, whose -real name is Perihelion, and there's Whitsuntide and Tonsillitis and -Opodeldoc and a lot more--I never could remember all them kids. - -And there ain't goin' to be no more on 'em, for the fact of the matter -seems to be that Widder Watson ain't likely to ever get another husband. -It's been about four years since Jim Watson, her last one, died, and was -buried in there amongst the hickory second-growth and hazel bushes, and -since that day there ain't nobody come along that road a-courtin' Widder -Watson. And that's what makes her sad. She can't understand it, never -havin' been without a husband for so long before, and she sets and -grieves and grieves and smokes her corn-cob pipe and speculates and -grieves some more. - -Now, don't you get no wrong idea about Widder Watson. She ain't so -all-fired crazy about men. It ain't that. That ain't what makes her -grieve. She is sad because she wants another baby to pin a name to. - -For she has got the most lovely name out of a new almanac for that there -kid that will likely never be born, and she sets there day after day, -and far into the night, lookin' at them graves in the brush, and talkin' -to the clouds and stars, and sayin' that name over and over to herself, -and sighin' and weepin' because that lovely name will be lost and -unknown and wasted forevermore, with no kid to tack it on to. - -And she hopes and yearns and grieves for another man to marry her and -wonders why none of 'em never does. Well, I can see why they don't. The -truth is, Widder Watson don't fix herself up much any more. She goes -barefooted most of the time in warm weather, and since she got so -sad-like she don't comb her hair much. And them corn-cob pipes of hern -ain't none too savory. But I 'spose she thinks of herself as bein' jist -the same way she was the last time she took the trouble to look into the -lookin' glass and she can't understand it. - -“Damn the men, Ben,” she says to me, the last time I was by there, -“what's the matter with 'em all? Ain't they got no sense any more? I -never had no trouble ketchin' a man before this! But here I been settin' -for three or four years, with eighty acres of good land acrost the road -there, and a whole passel o' young uns to work it, and no man comes to -court me. There was a feller along here two-three months ago I did -have some hopes on. He come a-palaverin' and a-blarneyin' along, and he -stayed to dinner and I made him some apple dumplin's, and he et an' et -and palavered. - -“But it turned out he was really makin' up to that gal, Zody, of mine. -It made me so darned mad, Ben, I runned him off the place with Jeff -Parker's shotgun that is hangin' in there, and then I took a hickory -sprout to that there Zody and tanned her good, for encouragin' of him. -You remember Jeff Parker, Ben? He was my second. You wasn't thinkin' of -gettin' married ag'in yourself, was you, Ben?” - -I told her I wasn't. That there eighty acres is good land, and they -ain't no mortgages on it, nor nothin', but the thought of bein' added to -that collection in amongst the hazel brush and hickory sprouts is enough -for to hold a man back. And the Widder Watson, she don't seem to realize -she orter fix herself up a little mite. But I'm sorry for her, jist -the same. There she sets and mourns, sayin' that name over and over -to herself, and a-grievin' and a-hopin', and all the time she knows it -ain't much use to hope. And a sadder sight than you will see over -there to Hickory Grove ain't to be found in the whole of the State of -Illinois. - -“That is a mighty sad picture you have drawed,” said the stranger, when -Ben Grevis had finished, “but I'm a sadder man for a man than that there -woman is for a woman.” - -He wrinkled all over, he almost grinned, if one could think of him as -grinning, when he mentioned “that there woman.” It was as if he tasted -some ulterior jest, and found it bitter, in connection with “that there -woman.” After a pause, in which he sighed several times, he remarked in -his tired and gentle voice: - -“There's two kinds of sadness, gentlemen. There is the melancholy -sadness that has been with you for so long that you have got used to -it and kind o' enjoy it in a way. And then there's the kind o' sadness -where you go back on yourself, where you make your own mistakes and fall -below your own standards, and that is a mighty bitter kind of sadness.” - -He paused again, while the skin wreathed itself into funeral wreaths -about his face, and then he said, impressively: - -“Both of them kinds of sadness I have known. First I knowed the -melancholy kind, and now I know the bitter kind.” - -The first sadness that I had lasted for years (said the stranger with -the strange skin). It was of the melancholy kind, tender and sort o' -sweet, and if I had been the right kind of a man I would 'a' stuck to it -and kept it. But I went back on it. I turned my face away from it. And -in going back on it I went back on all them old, sad, sweet memories, -like the songs tell about, that was my better self. And that is what -caused the sadness I am in the midst of now. It's the feelin' that I -done wrong in turnin' away from all them memories that makes me as sad -as you see me to-day. I will first tell you how the first sadness come -on to me, and secondly I will tell you how I got the sadness I am in the -midst of now. - -Gentlemen, mebby you have noticed that my skin is kind o' different from -most people's skin. That is a gift, and there was a time when I made -money off'n that gift. And I got another gift. I'm longer and slimmer -than most persons is. And besides them two gifts, I got a third gift. I -can eat glass, gentlemen, and it don't hurt me none. I can eat glass as -natural and easy as a chicken eats gravel. And them three gifts is my -art. - -I was an artist in a side-show for years, gentlemen, and connected with -one of the biggest circuses in the world. I could have my choice of -three jobs with any show I was with, and there ain't many could say -that. I could be billed as the India Rubber Man, on account of my skin, -or I could be billed as the Living Skeleton, on account of my framework, -or I could be billed as the Glass Eater. And once or twice I was billed -as all three. - -But mostly I didn't bother much with eating glass or being a Living -Skeleton. Mostly I stuck to being an India Rubber Man. It always seemed -to me there was more art in that, more chance to show talent and genius. -The gift that was given to me by Providence I developed and trained -till I could do about as much with my skin as most people can with their -fingers. It takes constant work and practice to develop a skin, even -when Nature has been kind to you like she has to me. - -For years I went along contented enough, seein' the country and being -admired by young and old, and wondered at and praised for my gift and -the way I had turned it into an art, and never thinkin' much of women -nor matrimony nor nothing of that kind. - -But when a man's downfall is put off, it is harder when it comes. When -I fell in love I fell good and hard. I fell into love with a pair of -Siamese twins. These here girls was tied together somewheres about the -waist line with a ligament of some kind, and there wasn't no fake about -it--they really was tied. On account of motives of delicacy I never -asked 'em much about that there ligament. The first pair of twins like -that who was ever on exhibition was from Siam, so after that they called -all twins of that kind Siamese twins. But these girls wasn't from none -of them outlandish parts; they was good American girls, born right over -in Ohio, and their names was Jones. Hetty Jones and Netty Jones was -their names. - -Hetty, she was the right-hand twin, and Netty was the left-hand twin. -And you never seen such lookers before in your life, double nor single. -They was exactly alike and they thought alike and they talked alike. -Sometimes when I used to set and talk to 'em I felt sure they was -just one woman. If I could 'a' looked at 'em through one of these here -stereoscopes they would 'a' come together and been one woman, I never -had any idea about 'em bein' two women. - -Well, I courted 'em, and they was mighty nice to me, both of 'em. I used -to give 'em candy and flowers and little presents and I would set and -admire 'em by the hour. I kept gettin' more and more into love with -them. And I seen they was gettin' to like me, too. - -So one day I outs with it. - -“Will you marry me?” says I. - -“Yes,” says Hetty. And, “Yes,” says Netty. Both in the same breath! And -then each one looked at the other one, and they both looked at me, and -they says, both together: - -“Which one of us did you ask?” - -“Why,” says I, kind o' flustered, “there ain't but one of you, is they? -I look on you as practically one woman.” - -“The idea!” says Netty. - -“You orter be ashamed of yourself,” says Hetty. - -“You didn't think,” says Netty, “that you could marry both of us, did -you?” - -Well, all I had really thought up to that time was that I was in love -with 'em, and just as much in love with one as with the other, and -I popped the question right out of my heart and sentiments without -thinking much one way or the other. But now I seen there was going to be -a difficulty. - -“Well,” I says, “if you want to consider yourself as two people, I -suppose it would be marryin' both of you. But I always thought of you as -two hearts that beat as one. And I don't see no reason why I shouldn't -marry the two of you, if you want to hold out stubborn that you _are_ -two.” - -“For my part,” says Hetty, “I think you are insulting.” - -“You must choose between us,” says Netty. - -“I would never,” says Hetty, “consent to any Mormonous goings-on of that -sort.” - -They still insisted they was two people till finally I kind o' got to -see their side of the argyment. But how was I going to choose between -them when no matter which one I chooses she was tied tight to the other -one? - -We agreed to talk it over with the Fat Lady in that show, who had a good -deal of experience in concerns of the heart and she had been married -four or five times and was now a widder, having accidental killed her -last husband by rolling over on him in her sleep. She says to me: - -“How happy you could be with either, Skinny, were t'other dear charmer -away!” - -“This ain't no jokin' matter, Dolly,” I tells her. “We come for serious -advice.” - -“Skinny, you old fool,” she says, “there's an easy way out of this -difficulty. All you got to do is get a surgeon to cut that ligament and -then take your choice.” - -“But I ain't really got any choice,” I says, “for I loves 'em both and I -loves 'em equal. And I don't believe in tamperin' with Nature.” - -“It ain't legal for you to marry both of 'em,” says the Fat Lady. - -“It ain't moral for me to cut 'em asunder,” I says. - -I had a feelin' all along that if they was cut asunder trouble of some -kind would follow. But both Hetty and Netty was strong for it. They -refused to see me or have anything to do with me, they sent me word, -till I give up what they called the insultin' idea of marryin' both of -'em. They set and quarrelled with each other all the time, the Fat -Lady told me, because they was jealous of each other. Bein' where they -couldn't get away from each other even for a minute, that jealousy must -have et into them something unusual. And finally, I knuckled under. I -let myself be overrulled. I seen I would lose both of 'em unless I made -a choice. So I sent 'em word by the Fat Lady that I would choose. But I -knowed deep in my heart all the time that no good would come of it. You -can't go against Scripter and prosper; and the Scripter says: “What God -has joined together, let no man put asunder.” - -Well, we fixed it up this way: I was to pay for that there operation, -having money saved up for to do it with, and then I was to make my -choice by chance. The Fat Lady says to toss a penny or something. - -But I always been a kind of a romantic feller, and I says to myself I -will make that choice in some kind of a romantic way. So first I tried -one of these ouija boards, but all I get is “Etty, Etty, Etty,” over and -over again, and whether the ouija left off an H or an N there's no way -of telling. The Fat Lady, she says: “Why don't you count 'em out, like -kids do, to find out who is It?” - -“How do you mean?” I asks her. - -“Why,” says she, “by saying, 'Eeny meeny, miney, mo!' or else 'Monkey, -monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys have we here?' or something -like that.” - -But that ain't romantic enough to suit me and I remember how you pluck a -daisy and say: “She loves me! She loves me not!” And I think I will -get an American beauty rose and do it that way. Well, they had the -operation, and it was a success. And about a week later I'm to go to the -hospital and tell 'em which one has been elected to the holy bonds of -matrimony. I gets me a rose, one of the most expensive that money can -buy in the town we was in, and when I arrive at the hospital I start up -the front steps pluckin' the leaves off and sayin' to myself: “Hetty she -is! Netty she is! Hetty she is!”--and so on. But I never got that rose -all plucked. - -I knowed all along that it was wrong to put asunder what God had joined -together, and I orter stuck to the hunch I had. You can't do anything -to a freak without changing his or her disposition some way. You take -a freak that was born that way and go to operating on him, and if he is -good-natured he'll turn out a grouch, or if he was a grouch he'll turn -out good-natured. I knowed a dog-faced boy one time who was the sunniest -critter you ever seen. But his folks got hold of a lot of money and took -him out of the business and had his features all slicked up and made -over, and what he gained in looks he lost in temper and disposition. -Any tinkering you do around artists of that class will change their -sentiments every time. - -I never got that rose all plucked. At the top of the steps I was met by -Hetty and Netty, just cornin' out of the hospital and not expectin' to -see me. With one of them was a young doctor that worked in the hospital -and with the other was a patient that had just got well. They explained -to me that as soon as they had that operation their sentiments toward me -changed. Before, they had both loved me. Afterwards, neither one of -'em did. They was right sorry about it, they said, but they had married -these here fellows that morning in the hospital, with a double wedding, -and was now starting off on their wedding trips, and their husbands -would pay back the operation money as soon as they had earned it and -saved it up. - -Well, I was so flabbergasted that my skin stiffened up on me, and it -stayed stiff for the rest of that day. I never said a word, but I turned -away from there a sad man with a broken heart in my bosom. And I quit -bein' an artist. I didn't have the sperrit to be in a show any more. - -And through all the years since then I been a saddened man. But as time -went by there come a kind of sweetness into that sadness, too. It is -better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, like -the poet says. I was one of the saddest men in the world, but I sort o' -enjoyed it, after a few years. And all them memories sort o' kept me a -better man. - -I orter stuck to that kind of sweet sadness. I orter knowed that if I -went back on all them beautiful memories of them girls something bitter -would come to me. - -But I didn't, gentlemen. I went back on all that sentiment and that -tenderness. I betrayed all them beautiful memories. Five days ago, I -went and married. Yes, sir, I abandoned all that sweet recollection. -And I been livin' in hell ever since. I been reproachin' myself day and -night for not provin' true and trustworthy to all that romantic sadness -I had all them years. It was a sweet sadness, and I wasn't faithful to -it. And so long as I live now I will have this here bitter sadness. - -The stranger got up and sighed and stretched himself. He took a fresh -chew of tobacco, and began to crank his flivver. - -“Well,” said Ben Grevis, “that is a sad story. But I don't know as -you're sadder, at that, than the Widder Watson is.” - -The stranger spat colourfully into the road, and again the faint -semblance of a smile, a bitter smile, wreathed itself about his mouth. - -“Yes, I be!” he said, “I be a sadder person than the Widder Watson. It -was her I married!” - - - - -DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) - -If you are a dog of any sense, you will pick you out a pretty good sort -of a boy and stick to him. These dogs that are always adopting one boy -after another get a bad name among the humans in the end. And you'd -better keep in with the humans, especially the grown-up ones. Getting -your scraps off a plate at the back door two or three times a day beats -hunting rabbits and ground-squirrels for a living. - -What a dog wants is a boy anywhere from about nine to about sixteen -years old. A boy under nine hasn't enough sense, as a rule, to be any -company for an intelligent dog. And along about sixteen they begin to -dress up and try to run with the girls, and carry on in a 'way to make -a dog tired. There are exceptions of course--one of the worst mistakes -some dogs make is to suppose that all boys are alike. That isn't true; -you'll find just as much individuality among boys as there is among -us dogs, if you're patient enough to look for it and have a knack for -making friends with animals. But you must remember to be kind to a boy -if you're going to teach him anything; and you must be careful not to -frighten him. - -At the same time, you must keep a boy in his place at once. My -boy--Freckles Watson is his name--understands just how far he can go -with me. But some dogs have to give their boys a lesson now and then. -Jack Thompson, who is a fine, big, good-natured dog, has a boy like -that. The boy's name is Squint--Squint Thompson, he is--and he gets -a little overbearing at times. I remember one Saturday afternoon last -summer in particular. There were a lot of us dogs and boys fooling -around up at Clayton's swimming-hole, including some stray boys with -no dogs to look after them, when Squint began to show off by throwing -sticks into the water and making Jack swim in and get 'em. Jack didn't -mind that, but after a while he got pretty tired and flopped down on the -grass, and wouldn't budge. - -“Grab him by the tail and the scruff of the neck, and pitch him in, -Squint,” says my boy, Freckles. “It's a lot of fun to duck a dog.” - -Squint went over to where Jack was lying and took hold of the scruff of -Jack's neck. Jack winked at me in his good-natured way, and made a show -of pulling back some, but finally let Squint pitch him into the deepest -part of the swimming-hole. His head went clear under--which is a thing -no dog likes, let alone being picked up that way and tossed about. Every -boy there set up a shout, and when Jack scrambled up the bank, wagging -his tail and shaking the water off himself, the humans all yelled, -“Sling him in again, Squint!” - -Jack trotted over to where he had a bone planted at the foot of a walnut -tree, and began to dig for it. Squint followed, intending to sling him -in again. I wondered if old Jack would stand for any more of it. Jack -didn't; but before he got that fool boy to give up his idea he had to -pretend like he was actually trying to bite him. He threw a good scare -into the whole bunch of them, and then made out like he'd seen a rabbit -off through the trees, and took after it. Mutt Mulligan and I went with -him, and all the boys followed, naked, and whooping like Indians, except -two that stayed behind to tie knots in shirts. When we three dogs had -given the whole bunch of them the slip, we lay down in the grass and -talked. - -“Some day,” says Jack to me, “I'm afraid I'm really going to have to -bite that Squint boy, Spot.” - -“Don't do it,” says I, “he's just a fool boy, and he doesn't really mean -anything by it.” - -“The thing to do,” says Mutt Mulligan, “is to fire him--just turn him -loose without a dog to his name, and pick up another boy somewhere.” - -“But I don't like to give Squint up,” says Jack, very thoughtful. “I -think it's my duty to stick to him, even if I have to bite him once or -twice to keep him in his place.” - -“You see,” Jack went on, “I'm really _fond_ of Squint. I've had him -three years now, and I'm making a regular boy of him. He was a kind of -a sissy when I took charge of him. His folks made him wear long yaller -curls, and they kept him in shoes and stockings even in the summer-time, -and they dressed him up in little blouses, and, say, fellows, you'd -never guess what they called him!” - -“What?” says I. - -“Percival,” says Jack. “And they wouldn't let him fight. Well, I've seen -him turn into a real boy, a bit it a time, and I think it's up to me -to stick to the job and help with his education. He chews tobacco now,” - says Jack very proudly, “and he can smoke a corncob pipe without getting -sick; and I'll tell you what, Spot, he can lick that Freckles boy of -yours to a frazzle.” - -“Huh!” says I, “there's no boy of his age in town that dast to knock a -chip off that Freckles boy's shoulder.” - -“Yes, sir,” says Jack, ignoring my remark, “that Squint has turned into -some kid, believe me! And the first time I saw him he was a sight. It -was about dusk, one summer afternoon three years ago, and he was sitting -down in the grass by the side of the road six or seven miles from town, -crying and talking to himself. I sat down a little way off and listened. -He had run away from home, and I didn't blame him any, either. Besides -the curls and shoes and stockings I have mentioned, there were other -persecutions. He never went fishing, for instance, unless his father -took him. He didn't dast to play marbles for keeps. They wouldn't let -him have a Flobert rifle, nor even a nigger shooter. There were certain -kids he wasn't allowed to play with--they were too common and dirty -for him, his folks said. So he had run off to go with a circus. He had -hacked off his Fauntleroy curls before he started only he hadn't got -'em very even; but he had forgot to inquire which way to go to find a -circus. He'd walked and walked, and the nearest thing to a circus he had -found was a gipsy outfit, and he had got scared of an old man with brass -rings in his ears, and run, and run, and run. He'd slung his shoes and -stockings away when he started because he hated 'em so, and now he had a -stone bruise, and he was lost besides. And it was getting dark. - -“Well, I felt sorry for that boy. I sat there and watched him, and the -idea came to me that it would be a Christian act to adopt him. He wasn't -a sissy at heart--he had good stuff in him, or he wouldn't have run -away. Besides, I wanted a change; I'd been working for a farmer, and I -was pretty sick of that.” - -“It's no life for a dog with any sporting instinct,” I said, “farm life -isn't. I've tried it. They keep you so infernally busy with their cows -and sheep and things; and I knew one farm dog that had to churn twice a -week. They stuck him in a treadmill and made him.” - -“A farm's no worse than living in a city,” said Mutt Mulligan. “A city -dog ain't a real dog; he's either an outcast under suspicion of the -police, or a mama's pet with ribbons tied around his neck.” - -“You can't tell me,” says Jack. “I know. A country town with plenty of -boys in it, and a creek or river near by, is the only place for a dog. -Well, as I was saying, I felt sorry for Percival, and we made friends. -Pretty soon a man that knew him came by in a buggy, going to town. He -was a doctor, and he stopped and asked Percival if he wasn't pretty far -from home. Percival told him he'd left home for good and for all; but -he sniffled when he said it, and the doctor put him into his buggy and -drove him to town. I drilled along behind. It had been dark quite a -while when we got home, and Percival's folks were scared half to death. -His mother had some extra hysterics when she saw his hair. - -“'Where on earth did you get that ornery-looking yellow mongrel?' says -Percival's father when he caught sight of me. - -“'That's my dog,' says Percival. 'I'm going to keep him.' - -“'I won't have him around,' says his mother. - -“But Percival spunked up and said he'd keep me, and he'd get his hair -shingled tight to his head, or else the next time he ran away he'd make -a go of it. He got a licking for that remark, but they were so glad to -get him back they let him keep me. And from that time on Percival began -to get some independence about him. He ain't Percival now; he's Squint.” - -It's true that a dog can help a lot in a boy's education. And I'm proud -of what I've done for Freckles. I will always remember 'one awful time I -had with him, though. I didn't think he'd ever pull through it. All of a -sudden he got melancholy--out of sorts and dreamy. I couldn't figure -out what was the matter with him at first. But I watched him close, and -finally I found out he was in love. He was feeling the disgrace of being -in love pretty hard, too; but he was trying not to show it. The worst -part of it was, he was in love with his school-teacher. She was a Miss -Jones, and an old woman--twenty-two or twenty-three years old, she was. - -Squint and Freckles had a fight over it when Squint found out. Squint -came over to our place one night after supper and whistled Freckles out. -He? says: - -“Say, Freckles, I seen you put an apple on Miss Jones's desk this -morning.” - -“You're a liar,” says Freckles, “and you dastn't back it.” - -“I dast,” says Squint. - -“Dastn't,” says Freckles. - -“Dast,” says Squint. - -“Back it then,” says Freckles. - -“Well, then, you're another,” says Squint. Which backed it. - -Then Freckles, he put a piece of wood on to his shoulder, and said: - -“You don't dast to knock that chip off.” - -“I dast,” says Squint. - -“You dastn't,” says Freckles. - -Squint made a little push at it. Freckles dodged, and it fell off. -“There,” says Squint, “I knocked it off.” - -“You didn't; it fell off.” - -“Did.” - -“Didn't neither.” - -“Did teether. Just put it on again, and see if I don't dast to knock it -off.” - -“I don't have to put it on again, and you ain't big enough to make me do -it,” says Freckles. - -“I can too make you.” - -“Can't.” - -“Huh, you can't run any sandy over me!” - -“I'll show you whether I can or not!” - -“Come on, then, over back of the Baptist Church, and show me.” - -“No, I won't fight in a graveyard.” - -“Yah! Yah! Yah!--'fraid of a graveyard at night! Fraid-cat! Fraid-cat! -Fraid-cat!” - -There isn't any kid will stand for that, so they went over to the -graveyard back of the Baptist Church. It was getting pretty dark, too. -I followed them, and sat down on a grave beside a tombstone to watch the -fight. I guess they were pretty much scared of that graveyard, both -of those boys; but us dogs had dug around there too much, making holes -after gophers, and moles, and snakes for me to mind it any. They hadn't -hit each other more than half a dozen times, those boys, when a flea got -hold of me right in the middle of my back, up toward my neck--the place -I never can reach, no matter how hard I dig and squirm. It wasn't one of -my own fleas, by the way it bit; it must have been a tramp flea that -had been starved for weeks. It had maybe come out there with a funeral a -long time before and got lost off of someone, and gone without food ever -since; and while I was rolling around and twisting, and trying to get at -it, I bumped against that tombstone with my whole weight. It was an old -slab, and loose, and it fell right over in the grass with a thud. The -boys didn't know I was there, and when the tombstone fell and I jumped, -they thought ghosts were after them, though I never heard of a ghost -biting anybody yet. It was all I could do to keep up with those boys for -the next five minutes, and I can run down a rabbit. When they stopped, -they were half a mile away, on the schoolhouse steps, hanging on to each -other for comfort. But, after a while they got over their scare, and -Squint said: - -“There ain't any use in you denying that apple, Freckles; two others, -besides me, not counting a girl, saw you put it there.” - -“Well,” said Freckles, “it's nobody's business.” - -“But what I can't make out,” says Squint, “is what became of the red -pepper. We knew you wasn't the kind of a softy that would bring apples -to teacher unless they was loaded with cayenne pepper, or something like -that. So we waited around after school to see what would happen when she -bit into it. But she just set at her desk and eat it all up, and slung -the core in the stove, and nothing happened.” - -“That's funny,” says Freckles. And he didn't say anything more. - -“Freckles,” says Squint, “I don't believe you put any red pepper into -that apple.” - -“I did,” says Freckles. “You're a liar!” - -“Well,” says Squint, “what become of it, then?” - -“That's none of your business, what become of it,” says Freckles. -“What's it to you what become of it? How do I know what become of it?” - -“Freckles,” says Squint, “I believe you're stuck on teacher.” - -“You're a liar!” yells Freckles. And this time he was so mad he hit -Squint without further words. They had a beauty of a fight, but finally -Freckles got Squint down on the gravel path, and bumped his head up and -down in the gravel. - -“Now,” says he, “did you see any apple?” - -“No,” says Squint, “I didn't see any apple.” - -“If you had seen one, would there have been pepper in it?” - -“There would have been--le'me up, Freckles.” - -“Am I stuck on teacher?” - -“You ain't stuck on anybody--ouch, Freckles, le'me up!” - -Freckles let him up, and then started back toward home, walking on -different sides of the street. About half-way home Freckles crossed the -street, and said: “Squint, if I tell you something, you won't tell?” - -“1 ain't any snitch, Freckles, and you know it.” - -“You won't even tell the rest of the Dalton Gang?” - -“Nope.” - -“Cross your heart and hope to die?” - -“Sure.” - -“Well, set down on the grass here, and I'll tell you.” They set down, -and Freckles says: - -“Honest, Squint, it's true--I did take her that apple this morning, and -I'm stuck on her, and there wasn't any pepper in it.” - -“Gee, Freckles!” says Squint. - -Freckles only drew in a deep breath. - -“I'm awful sorry for you, Freckles,” says Squint, “honest, I am.” - -“You always been a good pal, Squint,” says Freckles. “Ain't there -anything can be done about it?” - -“Nope,” says Freckles. - -“The Dalton Gang could make things so hot for her she'd have to give -up school,” says Squint, very hopeful. “If you didn't see her any more, -you'd maybe get over it, Freckles.” - -“No, Squint, I don't want her run out.” - -“Don't _want_ her run out! Say, Freckles, you don't mean to say you -_like_ being in love with her?” - -“Well,” says Freckles, “if I did like it, that would be a good deal of -disgrace, wouldn't it?” - -“Gosh darn her!” says Squint. - -“Well, Squint,” says Freckles, “if you call me a softy, I'll lick you -again; but honest, I do kind of like it.” And after that disgrace there -wasn't anything more either of them could say. And that disgrace ate -into him more and more; it changed him something awful. It took away -all his spirit by degrees. He got to be a different boy--sort of mooned -around and looked foolish. And he'd blush and giggle if any one said -“Hello” to him. I noticed the first bad sign one Saturday when his -father told him he couldn't go swimming until after he had gone over the -whole patch and picked the bugs off of all the potatoes. He didn't kick -nor play sick; he didn't run away; he stayed at home and bugged those -potatoes; he bugged them very hard and savage; he didn't do two rows, -as usual, and then sneak off through the orchard with me--_no, sir, he -hugged 'em all!_ I lay down at the edge of the patch and watched him, -and thought of old times, and the other dogs and boys down at the creek, -or maybe drowning out gophers, or getting chased by Cy Smith's bull, or -fighting out a bumblebee's nest and putting mud on the stung places, and -it all made me fell mighty sad and downcast. Next day was Sunday, and -they told him he'd get a licking if he chased off after Sunday-school -and played baseball out to the fair-grounds--and he didn't; he came -straight home, without even stopping back of the livery-stable to watch -the men pitch horseshoes. And next day was Monday, and he washed his -neck without being told, and he was on time at school, and he got his -grammar lesson. And worse than that before the day was over, for at -recess-time the members of the Dalton Gang smoked a Pittsburgh stogie, -turn and turn about, out behind the coal-house. Freckles rightly owned -a fifth interest in that stogie, but he gave his turns away without -a single puff. Some of us dogs always hung around the school-yard at -recess-times, and I saw that myself, and it made me feel right bad; it -wasn't natural. And that night he went straight home from school, and he -milked the cow and split the kindling wood without making a kick, and he -washed his feet before he went to bed without being made to. - -“No, sir, it wasn't natural. And he felt his disgrace worse and worse, -and lost his interest in life more and more as the days went by. One -afternoon when I couldn't get him interested in pretending I was going -to chew up old Bill Patterson, I knew there wasn't anything would take -him out of himself. Bill was the town drunkard, and all of us dogs used -to run and bark at him when there were any humans looking on. I never -knew how we got started at it, but it was the fashion. We didn't have -anything against old Bill either, but we let on like we thought he was -a tough character; that is, if any one was looking at us. If we ever -met old Bill toward the edge of town, where no one could see us, we were -always friendly enough with him, too. Bill liked dogs, and used to be -always trying to pet us, and knew just the places where a dog liked to -be scratched, but there wasn't a dog in town would be seen making up to -him. We'd let him think maybe we were going to be friendly, and smell -and sniff around him in an encouraging sort of a way, like we thought -maybe he was an acquaintance of ours, and then old Bill would get real -proud and try to pat our heads, and say: 'The _dogs_ all know old Bill, -all right--yes, sir! _They_ know who's got a good heart and who ain't. -May be an outcast, but the _dogs_ know--yes, sir!” And when he said that -we'd growl and back off, and circle around him, and bristle our backs -up, and act like we'd finally found the man that robbed our family's -chicken-house last week, and run in and snap at Bill's legs. Then all -the boys and other humans around would laugh. I reckon it was kind of -mean and hypocritical in us dogs, too; but you've got to keep the humans -jollied up, and the coarsest kind of jokes is the only kind they seem to -appreciate. But even when I put old Bill through his paces, that -Freckles boy didn't cheer up any. - -The worst of it was that Miss Jones had made up her mind to marry the -Baptist minister, and it was only a question of time before she'd get -him. Every dog and human in our town knew that. Folks used to talk it -over at every meal, or out on the front porches in the evenings, and -wonder how much longer he would hold out. And Freckles used to listen to -them talking, and then sneak off alone and sit down with his chin in his -hands and study it all out. The Dalton Gang--Squint had told the rest of -them, each promising not to tell--was right sympathetic at first. They -offered to burn the preacher's house down if that would do any good. -But Freckles said no, leave the preacher alone. It wasn't _his_ -fault--everyone knew _he_ wouldn't marry Miss Jones if she let him -alone. Then the Daltons said they'd kidnap the teacher if he said -the word. But Freckles said no, that would cause a lot of talk; and, -besides, a grown woman eats an awful lot; and what would they feed her -on? Finally Tom Mulligan--he was Mutt Mulligan's boy--says: - -“What you got to do, Freckles, is make some kind of a noble sacrifice. -That's the way they always do in these here Lakeside Library books. -Something that will touch her heart.” - -And they all agree her heart has got to be touched. But how? - -“Maybe,” says Squint, “it would touch her heart if the Dalton Gang was -to march in in a body and offer to reform.” - -But Tom Mulligan says he wouldn't go _that_ far for any one. And after -about a week the Dalton Gang lost its sympathy and commenced to guy -Freckles and poke fun at him. And then there were fights--two or three -every day. But gradually it got so that Freckles didn't seem to take any -comfort or joy in a fight, and he lost spirits more and more. And pretty -soon he began to get easy to lick. He got so awful easy to lick the -Daltons got tired of licking him, and quit fighting him entirely. And -then the worst happened. One day they served him notice that until he -got his nerve back and fell out of love with Miss Jones again, he would -not be considered a member of the Dalton Gang. But even that didn't jar -him any--Freckles was plumb ruined. - -One day I heard the humans talking it over that the preacher had give -in at last. Miss Jones's pa, and her uncle too, were both big church -members, and he never really had a chance from the first. It was in the -paper, the humans said, that they were engaged, and were to be married -when school was out. Freckles, he poked away from the porch where the -family was sitting when he heard that, and went to the barn and lay down -on a pile of hay. I sat outside the barn, and I could hear him in there -choking back what he was feeling. It made me feel right sore, too, and -when the moon came up I couldn't keep from howling at it; for here was -one of the finest kids you ever saw in there bellering like a girl, and -all because of a no-account woman--a grown-up woman, mind you! I went in -and lay down on the hay beside him, and licked his face, and nuzzled my -head up under his armpit, to show him I'd stand by him anyhow. Pretty -soon he went to sleep there, and after a long while his father came out -and picked him up and carried him into the house to bed. He never waked -up. - -The next day I happened by the schoolhouse along about recess-time. -The boys were playing prisoner's base, and I'm pretty good at that game -myself, so I joined in. When the bell rang, I slipped into Freckles's -room behind the scholars, thinking I'd like a look at that Miss Jones -myself. Well, she wasn't anything Yd go crazy over. When she saw me, -there was the deuce to pay. - -“Whose dog is that?” she sings out. - -“Please, ma'am,” squeals a little girl, “that is Harold Watson's dog, -Spot.” - -“Harold Watson,” says she to Freckles, “don't you know it's strictly -against the rules to bring dogs to school?” - -“Yes'm,” says Freckles, getting red in the face. - -“Then why did you do it?” - -“I didn't, ma'am,” says he. “He's just come visitin' like.” - -“Harold,” says she, “don't be impudent. Step forward.” - -He stepped toward her desk, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He -jerked away from her, and she grabbed him by the collar. No dog likes to -see a grown-up use his boy rough, so I moved a little nearer and growled -at her. - -“Answer me,” she says, “why did you allow this beast to come into the -schoolroom?” - -“Spot ain't a beast,” says Freckles. “He's my dog.” She stepped to the -stove and picked up a poker, and come toward me. I dodged, and ran to -the other side of her desk, and all the scholars laughed. That made her -mad, and she made a swipe at me with that poker, and she was so sudden -that she caught me right in the ribs, and I let out a yelp and ran over -behind Freckles. - -“You can't hit my dog like that!” yelled Freckles, mad as a hornet. “No -teacher that ever lived could lick my dog!” And he burst out crying, and -ran out of the room, with me after him. - -“I'm done with you,” he sings out from the hall. “Marry your old -preacher if you want to.” - -And then we went out into the middle of the road, and he slung stones -at the schoolhouse, and yelled names, till the principal came out and -chased us away. - -But I was glad, because I saw he was cured. A boy that is anything -will stick up for his dog, and a dog will stick up for his boy. We went -swimming, and then we went back as near the schoolhouse as we dast to. -When school let out, Freckles licked the whole Dalton Gang, one at a -time, and made each say, before he let him up: “Freckles Watson was -never stuck on anybody; and if he was, he is cured.” - -They all said it, and then held a meeting; and he was elected president. - -And me!--I felt so good I went down-town and picked a fuss with a -butcher's dog that wore a spiked collar. I had always felt a little -scared of that dog before, but that night I just naturally chewed him to -a frazzle. - - - - -BILL PATTERSON - -This town,” says Squint, quiet, but determined, “has got to be made an -example of. It has got to learn that it can't laugh at the Dalton Gang -and go unscathed. Freckled Watson of Dead Man's Gulch,” says he to me, -“speak up! What form shall the punishment take?” - -“Blood,” says I. - -“Two-Gun Tom of Texas,” says he to Tom Mulligan, “speak!” - -“Death!” says Tom. - -“Arizona Pete, speak!” - -“Blood and Death,” says Pete Wilson, making his voice deep. - -“Broncho Bob?” - -“Blood, death, and fire!” says Bob Jones. - -There was a solemn pause for a minute, and then I says, according to -rule and regulation: - -“And what says Dead-Shot Squint, the Terror of the Plains?” - -He was very serious while one might have counted ten breaths, and then -he pulled his jack-knife from his pocket and whet it on the palm of his -hand, and tried its point on his thumb, and replied: - -“He says death, and seals it with a vow!” - -That vow was a mighty solemn thing, and we always felt it so. It wasn't -the kind of a thing you would ever let small kids or girls know about. -First you all sat down in a circle, with your feet together, and rolled -up the sleeve of your left arm. Then the knife was passed around, and -each drew blood out of his left arm. Then each one got as much blood out -of the next fellow's arm as he could, in his mouth, and all swallowed -simultaneous, to show you were going into the thing to the death and no -turning back. Next we signed our names in a ring, using blood mixed with -gunpowder. But not on paper, mind you. We signed 'em on parchment. -First and last, that parchment was a good deal of trouble. If you think -skinning a squirrel or a rat to get his hide for parchment is an easy -trick, just try it. Let alone catching them being no snap. But Squint, -he was Captain, and he was stern on parchment, for it makes an oath more -legal, and all the old-time outlaws wouldn't look at anything else. But -we got a pretty good supply ahead by saving all the dead cats and things -like that we could find, and unless you know likely places to look it -would surprise you how many dead cats there are in the world. - -We were in the Horse Thieves' Cave, about a mile from town. It had -really been used for that, way back before the war. There was a gang -pretended to be honest settlers like everybody else. But they used to -steal horses and hide them out in there. When they had a dozen or so -of them they'd take 'em over to the Mississippi River, which was about -thirty miles west, some night, and raft 'em down stream and sell 'em at -Cairo or St. Louis. That went on for years, but along in the fifties, -my grandfather said, when _he_ was a kid, a couple was hung, and the -remainder got across the river and went west. The cave was up on -the side of a hill in the woods, and forgotten about except by a few -old-timers. The door-beams had rotted and fallen down, and the sand and -dirt had slid down over the mouth of it, and vines and bushes grown up. -No one would have guessed there was any cave there at all. But the -dogs got to digging around there one afternoon when the Dalton Gang was -meeting in the woods, and uncovered part of those door beams. We dug -some more and opened her up. It took a lot of work to clean her out, but -she was as good as new when we got done with her. We never told any one, -and the vines and bushes were so thick you could hunt a year and never -find the opening. It isn't every bunch of kids get a real Horse Thieves' -Cave ready-made like that, right from the hands of Providence, as you -might say. Pete Wilson used to brag and say his grand-dad was one of -those horse-thieves. It made the rest of us feel kind of meek for a -time, because none of us could claim any honour or grandeur like that in -our families. But my grand-dad, who has a terrible long memory about -the early days, said it wasn't so; so far as he could recollect Pete's -grand-dad never had any ambition above shoats and chickens. - -Well, I was telling you about that oath. We were taking it because -Squint's father, who was mayor, had run on to one of those parchments -(which Squint ought never to have taken away from the cave), and had -asked a lot of fool questions about it. Then he threw back his head and -laughed at the Dalton Gang. It made our blood boil. Hence, our plans for -revenge. - -“The time has come,” said Squint, “for a bold stroke. Yonder proud city -laughs. But he laughs best who laughs last. And ere another sun has -set----” - -“The last time we took the blood oath,” interrupts Bob Jones, “we didn't -do anything more important than steal the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable.” - -“There must be no failure,” says Squint, not heeding him, and he jabbed -the knife into the ground and gritted his teeth. You could see how the -memory of being laughed at was rankling through his veins. - -“But, Squint,” says Tom Mulligan, looking quite a bit worried, “you -don't _really_ mean to kill any one, do you?” - -Squint only says, very haughty: “The blood oath has been sworn. Is there -a traitor here?” He was always a great one for holding us to it, Squint -was, unless what he called an Honourable Compromise came into sight. -And we all got mighty uncomfortable and gloomy trying to think of some -Honourable Compromise. It was to me that the great idea came, all of a -sudden. - -“Squint,” I says, “the thing to do is to kidnap some prominent citizen -and hold him for ransom.” - -Squint brightened up and said to wring gold from the coffers of yonder -proud city would be even more satisfaction than blood. The next question -was: Who will we kidnap? - -“I suggest the mayor of yonder town!” says Squint. - -“Gee--your dad, Squint?” says Tom Mulligan. - -“I offer him as a sacrifice,” says Squint, very majestically. No one -could do any more, and we all felt Squint's dad had deserved it. But the -idea was so big it kind of scared us, too. But while the rest of us were -admiring Squint, Bob Jones got jealous and offered _his_ father. Then we -all offered our fathers, except Tom Mulligan, who didn't have anything -better to offer than a pair of spinster aunts. There was a general row -over whose father was the most prominent citizen. But finally we decided -to bar all relatives and kinsfolk, in order to prevent jealousy, even to -the distant cousins. But it isn't a very big town, and it would surprise -you how many people are related to each other there. Finally Bill -Patterson was voted to be the Honourable Compromise, being known as the -town drunkard, and not related to anybody who would own up to it. - -It figured out easy enough. All we had to do was to wait until Sunday -night, and take Bill out of the lockup. Every Saturday afternoon regular -Si Emery, who was the city marshal, arrested Bill for being drunk on -Main Street, and Bill was kept in jail until Monday morning. Si was -getting pretty old and feeble and shaky, and of late years the town -council never let him have the lock-up key until just an hour or so -before it was time to arrest Bill on Saturdays. Because one time Si -had forgot to feed and water a tramp in there for about a week, and the -tramp took sick after a while, and he was dead when Si remembered about -him, and had to be buried at the town's expense. And several times some -tough customers had taken the keys away from Si and broken into the -place and played cards and cut up in there scandalous for half the -night. So it was thought best Si shouldn't carry the keys, nor the -handcuffs which belonged to the town. After he had locked Bill up on -Saturday evenings Si would take the keys to the mayor's house, and get -them again on Monday morning to let Bill out. - -So the next Sunday night when the hired girl wasn't looking, Squint -sneaked the keys and the town handcuffs out of the drawer in the kitchen -table where the knives and forks were kept. He slipped upstairs to bed, -and no one noticed. About ten o'clock he dressed again, and got out the -back window, and down the lightning rod; and at the same hour us other -Daltons were doing much the same. - -We met behind the lockup, and put on the masks we had made. They had -hair on the bottoms of them to look like beards sticking out. - -“Who's got the dark-lantern?” Squint asks, in a whisper. - -“M-m-me,” answered Pete Wilson, stuttering. I was so excited myself I -was biting my coat-sleeve so my teeth wouldn't chatter. And Bob Jones -was clicking the trigger of the cavalry pistol his uncle carried in the -war, and couldn't stop, like a girl can't stop laughing when she gets -hysterics. The cylinder was gone and it couldn't be loaded or he would -have killed himself, for he turned it up and looked right into the -muzzle and kept clicking when Squint asked him what the matter was. Pete -shook so he couldn't light the lantern; but Squint, he was that calm -and cool he lit her with the third match. He unlocked the door and in we -went. - -Bill was snoring like all get out, and talking in his sleep. That made -us feel braver again. Squint says to handcuff him easy and gentle before -he wakes. Well, there wasn't any trouble in that; the trouble was to -wake him up afterward. He was so interested in whatever he was dreaming -about that the only way we could do it was to tickle his nose with a -straw and wait until he sneezed himself awake. Squint clapped the muzzle -of the pistol to his forehead, while I flashed the lantern in his eyes -and the other three sat on his stomach and grabbed his legs. Squint -says: - -“William Patterson, one move and you are a dead man!” - -But Bill didn't try to move any; he only said: “Can't an honest -working-man take a little nap? You go 'way and leave me be!” - -“William Patterson,” says Squint, “you are kidnapped!” - -“Yer a liar,” says Bill. “I ain't. Ye can't prove it on to me. I'm just -takin' a little nap.” - -Then he rouses up a little more and looks at us puzzled, and begins to -mumble and talk to himself: - -“Here I be,” he says, “and here they be! I can see 'em, all right; but -they can't fool me! They ain't really nothing here. I seen too many of -them tremenses come and go to be fooled that easy.” - -“Arise, William Patterson, and come with us,” says Squint. - -“Now, you don't want to get too sassy,” says Bill, “or you'll turn into -something else the first thing _you_ know. You tremenses always does -turn into something else.” We had to kick him on the shins to make him -get up. When we did that he says to himself: “Shucks, now! A body'd -think he was bein' kicked if he didn't know different, wouldn't he?” - -He came along peaceable enough, but muttering to himself all the way: -“Monkeys and crocodiles and these here striped jackasses with wings on -to 'em I've saw many a time, and argified with 'em, too; and talked with -elephants no bigger'n a man's fist; and oncet I chased a freight train -round and round that calaboose and had it give me sass; but this is the -first time a passel o' little old men ever come and trotted me down the -pike.” - -And he kept talking like that all the way to the cave. It was midnight -before we took off his handcuffs and shoved him in. When we gave him -that shove, he did get sort of spiteful and he says: - -“You tremenses think you're mighty smart, but if I was to come out -of this sudden, where would _you_ be? Blowed up, that's where--like -bubbles!” - -We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and -by the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when -we lit out for town again. - -On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank, -we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and -spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. -They read as follows: - -_Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis -Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef -in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!_ - ---_the kidNappers._ - -Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. -I had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had -some canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the -others were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get -hold of easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave -door Bill was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him: - -“Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with -all the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not -ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need -have no fear.” - -“I ain't afeared,” says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly -believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a -hollow stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom -of it through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our -fireplace. If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only -think some farmer was burning out stumps. - -Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or -suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat -back and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning: - -“I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is.” - -“It's Illinois,” says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it. - -“So it is,” says he. “So it is!” After he had smoked awhile longer he -said: “What county in Illinois would you say it was, for choice?” - -“Bureau county,” I told him. I saw then he hadn't known where he was. - -“It ain't possible, is it,” he says, “that I ever seen any of you boys -on the streets of a little city by the name of Hazelton?” - -I told him yes. - -“I s'pose they got the same old city marshal there?” says he. I guess he -thought maybe he'd been gone for years and years, like Rip Van Winkle. -He was having a hard time to get things straightened out in his mind. He -stared and stared into the bowl of his pipe, looking at me now and then -out of the corners of his eyes as if he wondered whether he could trust -me or not; finally he leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear, -awfully anxious: “Who would you say I was, for choice, now?” - -“Bill Patterson,” I told him, and he brightened up considerable and -chuckled to himself; and then he said, feeling of himself all over and -tying on his rope again: - -“Bill Patterson is correct! Been wanderin' around through these here -woods for weeks an' weeks, livin' on roots an' yarbs like a wild man of -Borneo.” Then he asks me very confidential: “How long now, if you was to -make a guess, would you judge Bill had been livin' in this here cave?” - -But Squint cut in and told him point blank he was kidnapped. It took -a long time to get that into Bill's head, but finally he asked: “What -for?” - -“For ransom,” says I. - -“And revenge,” says Squint. - -Bill looked dazed for a minute, and then said if it was all the same to -us he'd like to have a talk with a lawyer. But Bob Jones broke in and -told him “Unless five hundred dollars is paid over to the gang, you will -never see Hazelton again.” He looked frightened at that and began to -pick at his coat-sleeves, and said he guessed if we didn't mind he'd go -and take a little nap now. You never saw such a captive for sleeping up -his spare time; he was just naturally cut out to be a prisoner. But -we felt kind of sorry and ashamed we had scared him; it was so easy to -scare him, and we agreed we'd speak gentle and easy to him after that. - -At dinner time we waked Bill up and gave him another meal. And he was -ready for it; the sight of victuals seemed to take any fright he might -have had out of his mind. You never saw such an appetite in all your -born days; he ate like he had years of lost time to make up for; and -maybe he had. He was having such a good time he began to have his doubts -whether it would last, for he said, in a worried kind of way, after -dinner: “This here thing of being kidnapped, now, ain't a thing you boys -is going to try and charge for, is it? 'Cause if it is them there sharp -tricks can't be worked on to me; and if you was to sue me for it you sue -a pauper.” - -After dinner Squint and I went to town on a scouting party. We hung -around the streets and listened to the talk that was going on just like -a couple of spies would that had entered the enemy's camp in war time. -Everybody was wondering what had become of Bill, and gassing about the -notices; and it made us feel mighty proud to think that fame had come -to ones so young as us, even although it came in disguise so that no one -but us knew it. But in the midst of that feeling we heard Hy Williams, -the city drayman, saying to a crowd of fellows who were in front of the -post office waiting for the mail to be distributed: - -“The beatingest part of the whole thing is that any one would be fools -enough to think that this town or any other town would pay ransom to get -back a worthless cuss like Bill Patterson!” - -It had never struck us like that before. Instead of being famous like -we had thought, here we were actually being laughed at again! Squint, he -gritted his teeth, and I knew all the rankling that he had done inside -of him was as nothing to the rankling that he was doing now. So that -night we put up some more notices around town, which read as follows: - -_n. B.--take notus! we didunt reely Expect money for Old Bill Patterson, -we onely done that to show this town Is in Our Power. Take warning and -pay Up the next will be a rich one or his child._ - ---_kidnappers._ - -That really made folks pretty serious, that notice. There was a piece -in a Chicago paper about the things that had happened in our town. The -piece told a lot of things that never had happened, but when the papers -came down from Chicago and they all read it the whole town began to -get worse and worse excited. And about that time we began to get scared -ourselves. For there was talk of sending off to Chicago and getting a -detective. People were frightened about their kids, too. It kept getting -harder and harder for us to get out to the cave to guard Bill. Not that -he needed much guarding, either; for he was having the time of his life -out there, eating and sleeping and not working at anything else. It had -been years since he had struck any kind of work that suited him as well -as being kidnapped did; if we hadn't been so worried it would have been -a pleasure to us to see how happy and contented we were making him; he -acted like he had found the real job in life that he had always been -looking for, and the only thing that bothered him at all was when he -recollected about that ransom and got afraid the town would pay it -and end his snap. But mostly he didn't bother about anything; for his -recollection was only by fits and starts; yesterday was just as far off -to him as a year ago. The second day he was there he did get a little -grouchy because he had been without anything to drink for so long. -But that night someone broke into the saloon and stole a lot of quart -bottles of whiskey; about a bushel of them, it was said. We didn't -suspect it was Bill, right at first, for he was foxy enough to keep -it hid from us; and when we did know we didn't dare say anything! That -whiskey was the one thing Bill had lacked to make him completely happy. -But the theft worked in a way that increased our troubles. For it showed -people that the mysterious gang was still hanging around waiting to -strike a desperate stroke. And the very next night a store was broken -into and some stuff stolen. It wasn't Bill, but I suppose some tramp -that was hanging around; but it helped to stir things up worse and -worse. So we decided that we had better turn Bill loose. We held a -meeting out by the cave, and then Squint told him: - -“Prisoner, you are at liberty!” - -“What d'ye mean by that?” says Bill. “You ain't goin' back on me, are -ye?” - -“Yonder town has been punished enough,” says Squint. “Go free--we strike -your shackles off!” - -“But see here,” says Bill, “wasn't I kidnapped reg'lar? Ain't I been a -model prisoner?” - -“But we're through with you, Bill,” we told him. “Don't you understand?” - -Bill allowed it was a mean trick we were playing on him; he said he -had thought we were his friends, and that he'd done his best to give -satisfaction in the place, and here we were, firing him, as you might -say, without any warning, or giving him any chance to get another job -like it, or even telling him where he had failed to make good, and then -he snuffled like he was going to cry, and said: “That's a great way to -treat an honest workin'-man, that is! An' they call this a free country, -too!” - -But Squint, while expressing sorrow that we should have raised any false -hopes, was firm with him, too. “You take the rest of that whiskey and -chase along, now, Bill,” he said, “you aren't kidnapped any more.” - -But Bill flared up at that. “I ain't, ain't I?” he said. “Yer a liar! -I was kidnapped fair and square; kidnapped I be, and kidnapped I stay! -I'll show you blamed little cheats whether I'm kidnapped or not, I -will!” - -He took a chew of tobacco and sat down on a log, and studied us, looking -us over real sullen and spiteful. “Now, then,” he says, finally, “if -you young smart alecs think you can treat a free man that-a-way yer dern -fools. I got the law on to my side, I have. Do you think I don't know -that? Mebby you boys don't know ye could go to jail for kidnappin' an -honest work-in'-man? Well, ye could, if it was found out on ye. It's a -crime, that's what it is, and ye could go to jail for it. You treat Old -Bill fair and square and keep friends with him, and he won't tell on -you; but the minute I hear any more talk about bein' set at liberty I'll -tell on ye, and to jail you goes. I'm mighty comfortable where I be, and -I ain't goin' to be turned out.” - -We all looked at each other, and then we looked away again, and our -hearts sank. For each one read in his neighbour's eyes (as Squint said -later) what his doom might well be. - -“Kidnapped I be,” says Bill again, very rough and decided, “and -kidnapped I stay. And what's more, I want chicken for supper to-night. I -ain't had no chicken for quite a spell. You can wake me up when supper's -ready.” And he went into the cave and lay down for a nap. - -We were in his power, and he knew it! - -We had to steal that chicken, and it went against the grain to do it. -It was the first time in its career of crime the Dalton Gang had ever -actually stolen anything. Except, of course, watermelons and such truck, -which isn't really stealing. And except the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable, which was for revenge and as a punishment on the Sunday -School, and so not really stealing, either. - -Things got worse and worse. For Bill, he kept us on the jump. He got -to wanting more and more different things to eat, and was more and more -particular about the cooking. He wouldn't lift a hand for himself, not -even to fill and light his own pipe. We waited on him hand and foot, all -day long. And first he would take a fancy for a mess of squirrels, and -then he would want pigeons; and we had to take turns fanning the flies -off of him when he wanted to take a nap. Once he told a story, and -we all laughed at it; and that gave him the idea he was a great story -teller; and he would tell foolish yarns by the hour and get sulky if -we didn't laugh. We got so we would do anything to keep him in a good -humour. We had a lot of Indian stories and Old Sleuths out to the cave, -and he made us take turns reading to him. That good-for-nothing loafer -turned into a regular king, and we were his slaves. - -Between sneaking out there to keep him happy and contented and rustling -up grub for him, and thinking all the time we would be arrested the -next minute, and wanting to confess and not daring to, we all got right -nervous. Then there was a man came to town who didn't tell what his -business was the first day he was there, and we were right sure he was a -detective. He passed right by the cave one day, and we hugged the ground -behind the bushes and didn't dare breathe. It turned out afterward he -was only looking at some land he was figuring on buying. But that night -I dreamed that that man arrested me; and I was being sent to jail when I -waked up screaming out something about kidnapping. I heard my Pa say to -my Ma, after they had got me quieted down: - -“Poor little fellow! He thought he was kidnapped! No wonder he is -afraid, the state this whole town is in. If those desperadoes are -caught, they'll go to the pen for a good long term: nothing on earth can -save 'em from a Bureau county jury.” - -Then he went back into his room and went to sleep; but I didn't go to -sleep. What he had said didn't make me feel sleepy. I slipped out of bed -and prayed enough that night to make up for the times I had forgot it -lately; and the next day the rest of the Dalton Gang admitted they had -prayed some, too. - -But the worst of all was when Bill made friends with the tramp. Squint -and I went out to the cave one morning to get Bill's breakfast for him, -and as we got near we heard two sets of snores. Bill's snore you could -tell a long way off, he sort of gargled his snores and they ended up -with kind of a choke and an explosion. But the other snore was more of a -steady whistling sound. We ran across the fellow sudden, and it like to -have frightened us out of a year's growth. He was lying just inside the -cave with his hat pulled over his face, but he was snoring with one eye -open. It peered out from under the brim of his hat; it was half-hidden, -but it was open all right, and it was staring straight at us. It wasn't -human; no one with good intentions would lie there like that and snore -like he was asleep and watch folks at the same time on the sly. We -couldn't even run; we stood there with that regular see-saw snore coming -and going, and that awful eye burning into the centres of our souls, -as Squint says later, and thought our end had come. But he waked up and -opened the other eye, and then we saw the first one was glass and he -hadn't meant any harm by it. He was right sorry he'd scared us, he -said; but we'd have to get used to that eye, for _he_ allowed he was -kidnapped, too. It was two days before he quit being our captive and -left, and they are among the saddest days I ever spent. - -He left because Bill's whiskey was gone; and the afternoon he left, Bill -was helpless. When we saw Bill in that fix it gave us an idea how to -get rid of him. That night he was still weak and easy to handle. So we -slipped the handcuffs on him and took him back and locked him into the -calaboose again. Then we put signs and notices around town that read -this way: - -_Ha Ha Ha_ - -_Did you ever get left! this town joshed me for years but I have got -even--the joke is on to you--I wasn't kidnapped a tall--who is the -suckers now?_ - -_Bill Patterson._ - -And that town was so mad that when they found Bill in the jail again -there was talk of handling him pretty rough. But it all turned into -josh. Bill, when he woke up in the calaboose, thought he had just had -a dream at first, and denied he had ever been absent. Then when he saw -they all took him for a deep joker he began to act like he was a joker. -And before long he got to thinking he really had played that trick on -the town. When they used to ask him how on earth he got into and out of -the calaboose without the keys, he would wink very mysterious, and look -important, and nod and chuckle to himself and say that was the best part -of the joke and he intended to keep it to himself. - -But one day when he was almost sober he saw Squint and me on the -street and stared at us long and hard like he was trying to recollect -something, and scratched his head and said: “You boys didn't always used -to live in this town, did you?” - -“Uh-huh,” says I. - -“That's funny,” says Bill, “I could have swore you was boys I once -knowed a long ways off from here that time I was on my travels.” - - - - -BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) - -I am a middle-sized dog, with spots on me here and there, and several -different colours of hair mixed in even where there aren't any spots, -and my ears are frazzled a little on the ends where they have been -chewed in fights. - -At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I -was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost -feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from -dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it. - -I can well remember the afternoon on which the discovery was made. A -lot of us dogs were lying in the grass, up by the swimming hole, just -lazying around, and the boys were doing the same. All the boys were -naked and comfortable, and no humans were about, the only thing near -being a cow or two and some horses, and although large they are scarcely -more human than boys. Everybody had got tired of swimming, and it was -too hot to drown out gophers or fight bumblebees, and the boys were -smoking grapevine cigarettes and talking. - -Us dogs was listening to the boys talk. A Stray Boy, which I mean one -not claimed or looked out for or owned by any dog, says to Freckles -Watson, who is my boy: - -“What breed would you call that dog of yours, Freck?” - -I pricked up my ears at that. I cannot say that I had ever set great -store by breeds up to the time that I found out I was an aristocrat -myself, believing, as Bill Patterson, a human and the town drunkard, -used to say when intoxicated, that often an honest heart beats beneath -the outcast's ragged coat. - -“Spot ain't any _one_ particular breed,” says Freckles. “He's -considerably mixed.” - -“He's a mongrel,” says Squint Thompson, who is Jack Thompson's boy. - -“He ain't,” says Freckles, so huffy that I saw a mongrel must be some -sort of a disgrace. “You're a link, link liar, and so's your Aunt -Mariar,” says Freckles. - -I thought there might be a fight then, but it was too hot for any -enjoyment in a fight, I guess, for Squint let it pass, only saying, “I -ain't got any Aunt Mariar, and you're another.” - -“A dog,” chips in the Stray Boy, “has either got to be a thoroughbred or -a mongrel. He's either an aristocrat or else he's a common dog.” - -“Spot ain't any common dog,” says Freckles, sticking up for me. “He can -lick any dog in town within five pounds of his weight.” - -“He's got some spaniel in him,” says the Stray Boy. - -“His nose is pointed like a hound's nose,” says Squint Thompson. - -“Well,” says Freckles, “neither one of them kind of dogs is a common -dog.” - -“Spot has got some bulldog blood in him, too,” says Tom Mulligan, an -Irish boy owned by a dog by the name of Mutt Mulligan. “Did you ever -notice how Spot will hang on so you can't pry him loose, when he gets -into a fight?” - -“That proves he is an aristocratic kind of dog,” says Freckles. - -“There's some bird dog blood in Spot,” says the Stray Boy, sizing me up -careful. - -“He's got some collie in him, too,” says Squint Thompson. “His voice -sounds just like a collie's when he barks.” - -“But his tail is more like a coach dog's tail,” says Tom Mulligan. - -“His hair ain't, though,” says the Stray Boy. “Some of his hair is like -a setter's.” - -“His teeth are like a mastiff's,” says Mutt Mulligan's boy Tom. And -they went on like that; I never knew before there were so many different -kinds of thoroughbred dog. Finally Freckles says: - -“Yes, he's got all them different kinds of thoroughbred blood in him, -and he's got other kinds you ain't mentioned and that you ain't slick -enough to see. You may think you're running him down, but what you say -just _proves_ he ain't a common dog.” - -I was glad to hear that. It was beginning to look to me that they had a -pretty good case for me being a mongrel. - -“How does it prove it?” asked the Stray Boy. - -“Well,” says Freckles, “you know who the King of Spain is, don't you?” - -They said they'd heard of him from time to time. - -“Well,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation of the King of Spain -you'd be a member of the Spanish royal family. You fellows may not know -that, but you would. You'd be a swell, a regular high-mucky-muck.” - -They said they guessed they would. - -“Now, then,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation to the King of -Switzerland, too, you'd be just _twice_ as swell, wouldn't you, as if -you were only related to one royal family? Plenty of people are related -to just _one_ royal family.” - -Tom Mulligan butts in and says that way back, in the early days, his -folks was the Kings of Ireland; but no one pays any attention. - -“Suppose, then, you're a cousin of the Queen of England into the bargain -and your grand-dad was King of Scotland, and the Prince of Wales and -the Emperor of France and the Sultan of Russia and the rest of those -royalties were relations of yours, wouldn't all that royal blood make -you _twenty times_ as much of a high-mucky-muck as if you had just _one_ -measly little old king for a relation?” - -The boys had to admit that it would. - -“You wouldn't call a fellow with all that royal blood in him a -_mongrel_, would you?” says Freckles. “You bet your sweet life you -wouldn't! A fellow like that is darned near on the level with a -congressman or a vicepresident. Whenever he travels around in the old -country they turn out the brass band; and the firemen and the Knights of -Pythias and the Modern Woodmen parade, and the mayor makes a speech, and -there's a picnic and firecrackers, and he gets blamed near anything he -wants. People kow-tow to him, just like they do to a swell left-handed -pitcher or a champion prizefighter. If you went over to the old country -and called a fellow like that a mongrel, and it got out oh you, you -would be sent to jail for it.” - -Tom Mulligan says yes, that is so; his grand-dad came to this country -through getting into some kind of trouble about the King of England, and -the King of England ain't anywhere near as swell as the fellow Freckles -described, nor near so royal, neither. - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “it's the same way with my dog, Spot, here. -_Any_ dog can be full of just _one_ kind of thoroughbred blood. That's -nothing! But Spot here has got more different kinds of thoroughbred -blood in him than any dog you ever saw. By your own say-so he has. He's -got _all_ kinds of thoroughbred blood in him. If there's any kind he -ain't got, you just name it, will you?” - -“He ain't got any Great Dane in him,” yells the Stray Boy, hating to -knuckle under. - -“You're a liar, he has, too,” says Freckles. - -The Stray Boy backed it, and there was a fight. All us dogs and boys -gathered around in a ring to watch it, and I was more anxious than -anybody else. For the way that fight went, it was easy to see, would -decide what I was. - -Well, Freckles licked that Stray Boy, and rubbed his nose in the mud, -and that's how I come to be an aristocrat. - -Being an aristocrat may sound easy. And it may look easy to outsiders. -And it may really be easy for them that are used to it. But it wasn't -easy for _me_. It came on me suddenly, the knowledge that I was one, and -without warning. I didn't have any time to practise up being one. One -minute I wasn't one, and the next minute I was; and while, of course, -I felt important over it, there were spells when I would get kind of -discouraged, too, and wish I could go back to being a common dog again. -I kept expecting my tastes and habits to change. I watched and waited -for them to. But they didn't. No change at all set in on me. But I had -to pretend I was changed. Then I would get tired of pretending, and be -down-hearted about the whole thing, and say to myself: “There has been a -mistake. I am _not_ an aristocrat after all.” - -I might have gone along like that for a long time, partly in joy over my -noble birth, and partly in doubt, without ever being certain, if it had -not been for a happening which showed, as Freckles said, that blood will -tell. - -It happened the day Wilson's World's Greatest One Ring Circus and -Menagerie came to our town. Freckles and me, and all the other dogs and -boys, and a good many humans, too, followed the street parade around -through town and back to the circus lot. Many went in, and the ones that -didn't have any money hung around outside a while and explained to each -other they were going at night, because a circus is more fun at night -anyhow. Freckles didn't have any money, but his dad was going to take -him that night, so when the parade was over, him and me went back to -his dad's drug store on Main Street, and I crawled under the soda-water -counter to take a nap. - -Freckles's dad, that everyone calls Doc Watson, is a pretty good fellow -for a human, and he doesn't mind you hanging around the store if -you don't drag bones in or scratch too many fleas off. So I'm there -considerable in right hot weather. Under the soda water counter is the -coolest place for a dog in the whole town. There's a zinc tub under -there always full of water, where Doc washes the soda-water glasses, and -there's always considerable water slopped on to the floor. It's damp and -dark there always. Outdoors it may be so hot in the sun that your tongue -hangs out of you so far you tangle your feet in it, but in under there -you can lie comfortable and snooze, and when you wake up and want a -drink there's the tub with the glasses in it. And flies don't bother -you because they stay on top of the counter where soda water has been -spilled. - -Circus day was a hot one, and I must have drowsed off pretty quick after -lying down. I don't know how long I slept, but when I waked up it was -with a start, for something important was going on outside in Main -Street. I could hear people screaming and swearing and running along -the wooden sidewalk, and horses whinnying, and dogs barking, and old Si -Emery, the city marshal, was yelling out that he was an officer of the -law, and the steam whistle on the flour mill was blowing. And it all -seemed to be right in front of our store. I was thinking I'd better go -out and see about it, when the screen doors crashed like a runaway horse -had come through them, and the next minute a big yellow dog was back -of the counter, trying to scrouch down and scrooge under it like he was -scared and was hiding. He backed me into the corner without seeing me or -knowing I was there, and like to have squashed me. - -No dog--and it never struck me that maybe this wasn't a dog--no dog can -just calmly sit down on me like that when I'm waking up from a nap, -and get away with it, no matter _how_ big he is, and in spite of the -darkness under there I could see and feel that this was the biggest -dog in the world. I had been dreaming I was in a fight, anyhow, when he -crowded in there with his hindquarters on top of me, and I bit him on -the hind leg. - -When I bit him he let out a noise like a thrashing machine starting up. -It wasn't a bark. Nothing but the end of the world coming could bark -like that. It was a noise more like I heard one time when the boys dared -Freckles to lie down between the cattle guards on the railroad track and -let a train run over him about a foot above his head, and I laid down -there with him and it nearly deefened both of us. When he let out that -noise I says to myself, “Great guns! What kind of a dog have I bit?” - -And as he made that noise he jumped, and over went the counter, marble -top and all, with a smash, and jam into the show window he went, with -his tail swinging, and me right after him, practically on top of him. It -wasn't that I exactly intended to chase him, you understand, but I was -rattled on account of that awful noise he had let out, and I wanted to -get away from there, and I went the same way he did. So when he bulged -through the window glass on to the street I bulged right after him, and -as he hit the sidewalk I bit him again. The first time I bit him because -I was sore, but the second time I bit him because I was so nervous I -didn't know what I was doing, hardly. And at the second bite, without -even looking behind him, he jumped clean over the hitch rack and a team -of horses in front of the store and landed right in the middle of the -road with his tail between his legs. - -And then I realized for the first time he wasn't a dog at all. He was -the circus lion. - -Mind you, I'm not saying that I would have bit him at all if I'd a-known -at the start he was a lion. - -And I ain't saying I _wouldn't_ 'a' bit him, either. - -But actions speak louder than words, and records are records, and you -can't go back on them, and the fact is I _did_ bite him. I bit him -twice. - -And that second bite, when we came bulging through the window together, -the whole town saw. It was getting up telephone poles, and looking out -of second-story windows, and crawling under sidewalks and into cellars, -and trying to hide behind the town pump; but no matter where it was -trying to get to, it had one eye on that lion, and it saw me chasing him -out of that store. I don't say I would have chased him if he hadn't been -just ahead of me, anyhow, and I don't say I wouldn't have chased him, -but the facts are I _did_ chase him. - -The lion was just as scared as the town--and the town was so scared it -didn't know the lion was scared at all--and when his trainer got hold of -him in the road he was tickled to death to be led back to his cage, and -he lay down in the far corner of it, away from the people, and trembled -till he shook the wagon it was on. - -But if there was any further doubts in any quarter about me being an -aristocrat, the way I bit and chased that lion settled 'em forever. That -night Freckles and Doc went to the circus, and I marched in along with -them. And every kid in town, as they saw Freckles and me marching in, -says: - -“There goes the dog that licked the lion!” - -And Freckles, every time any one congratulated him on being the boy that -belonged to that kind of a dog, would say: - -“Blood will tell! Spot's an aristocrat, he is.” - -And him and me and Doc Watson, his dad, stopped in front of the lion's -cage that night and took a good long look at him. He was a kind of an -old moth-eaten lion, but he was a lion all right, and he looked mighty -big in there. He looked so big that all my doubts come back on me, and -I says to myself: “Honest, now, if I'd _a-known_ he was a lion, and that -_big_ a lion, when I bit him, _would_ I have bit him or would I not?” - -But just then Freckles reached down and patted me on the head and said: -“You wasn't afraid of him, was you, old Spot! Yes, sir, blood will -tell!” - - - - -BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog) - -Ever since I bit a circus lion, believing him to be another dog -like myself, only larger, I have been what Doc Watson calls a Public -Character in our town. - -Freckles, my boy, was a kind of a public character, too. He went around -bragging about my noble blood and bravery, and all the other boys and -dogs in town sort of looked up to him and thought how lucky he was to -belong to a dog like me. And he deserved whatever glory he got of it, -Freckles did. For, if I do say it myself, there's not a dog in town got -a better boy than my boy Freckles, take him all in all. I'll back him -against any dog's boy that is anywhere near his size, for fighting, -swimming, climbing, foot-racing, or throwing stones farthest and -straightest. Or I'll back him against any stray boy, either. - -Well, some dogs may be born Public Characters, and like it. And some may -be brought up to like it. I've seen dogs in those travelling Uncle Tom's -Cabin shows that were so stuck on themselves they wouldn't hardly notice -us town dogs. But with me, becoming a Public Character happened all in -a flash, and it was sort of hard for me to get used to it. One day I was -just a private kind of a dog, as you might say, eating my meals at the -Watson's back door, and pretending to hunt rats when requested, and not -scratching off too many fleas in Doc Watson's drug store, and standing -out from underfoot when told, and other unremarkable things like that. -And the next day I had bit that lion and was a Public Character, and -fame came so sudden I scarcely knew how to act. - -Even drummers from big places like St. Louis and Chicago would come into -the drug store and look at my teeth and toe nails, as if they must be -different from other dogs' teeth and toe nails. And people would come -tooting up to the store in their little cars, and get out and look me -over and say: - -“Well, Doc, what'll you take for him?” and Doc would wink, and say: - -“He's Harold's dog. You ask Harold.” - -Which Harold is Freckles's other name. But any boy that calls him Harold -outside of the schoolhouse has got a fight on his hands, if that boy is -anywhere near Freckles's size. Harry goes, or Hal goes, but Harold is -a fighting word with Freckles. Except, of course, with grown people. I -heard him say one day to Tom Mulligan, his parents thought Harold was a -name, or he guessed they wouldn't have given it to him; but it wasn't a -name, it was a handicap. - -Freckles would always say, “Spot ain't for sale.” And even Heinie -Hassenyager, the butcher, got stuck on me after I got to be a Public -Character. Heinie would come two blocks up Main Street with lumps of -Hamburg steak, which is the kind someone has already chewed for you, and -give them to me. Steak, mind you, not old gristly scraps. And before I -became a Public Character Heinie even grudged me the bones I would drag -out of the box under his counter when he wasn't looking. - -My daily hope was that I could live up to it all. I had always tried, -before I happened to bite that lion, to be a friendly kind of a dog -toward boys and humans and dogs, all three. I'd always been expected to -do a certain amount of tail-wagging and be friendly. But as soon as I -got to be a Public Character, I saw right away I wasn't expected to be -_too_ friendly any more. So, every now and then, I'd growl a little, -for no reason at all. A dog that has bit a lion is naturally expected to -have fierce thoughts inside of him; I could see that. And you have got -to act the way humans expect you to act, if you want to slide along -through the world without too much trouble. - -So when Heinie would bring me the ready-chewed steak I'd growl at him a -little bit. And then I'd bolt and gobble the steak like I didn't think -so derned much of it, after all, and was doing Heinie a big personal -favour to eat it. And now and then I'd pretend I wasn't going to eat a -piece of it unless it was chewed finer for me, and growl at him about -that. - -That way of acting made a big hit with Heinie, too. I could see that he -was honoured and flattered because I didn't go any further than just a -growl. It gave him a chance to say he knew how to manage animals. And -the more I growled, the more steak he brought. Everybody in town fed -me. I pretty near ate myself to death for a while there, besides all the -meat I buried back of Doc Watson's store to dig up later. - -But my natural disposition is to be friendly. I would rather be loved -than feared, which is what Bill Patterson, the village drunkard, used -to say. When they put him into the calaboose every Saturday afternoon -he used to look out between the bars on the back window and talk to the -boys and dogs that had gathered round and say that he thanked them -one and all for coming to an outcast's dungeon as a testimonial of -affection, and he would rather be loved than feared. And my natural -feelings are the same. I had to growl and keep dignified and go on being -a Public Character, but often I would say to myself that it was losing -me all my real friends, too. - -The worst of it was that people, after a week or so, began to expect -me to pull something else remarkable. Freckles, he got up a circus, and -charged pins and marbles, and cents when he found any one that had any, -to get into it, and I was the principal part of that circus. I was in a -cage, and the sign over me read: - -SPOT, THE DOG THAT LICKED A LION - -TEN PINS ADMITTION - -To feed the lion-eater, one cent or two white chiney marbles extry but -bring your own meat. - -Pat him once on the head twinty pins, kids under five not allowed to. - -For shaking hands with Spot the lion-eater, girls not allowed, gents -three white chinies, or one aggie marble. - -Lead him two blocks down the street and back, one cent before starting, -no marbles or pins taken for leading him. - -For sicking him on to cats three cents or one red cornelian marble if -you furnish the cat. Five cents to use Watson's cat. Watson's biggest -Tom-cat six cents must be paid before sicking. Small kids and girls not -allowed to sick him on cats. - -Well, we didn't take in any cat-sicking money. And it was just as well. -You never can tell what a cat will do. But Freckles put it in because it -sounded sort of fierce. I didn't care for being caged and circused that -way myself. And it was right at that circus that considerable trouble -started. - -Seeing me in a cage like that, all famoused-up, with more meat poked -through the slats than two dogs could eat, made Mutt Mulligan and some -of my old friends jealous. - -Mutt, he nosed up by the cage and sniffed. I nosed a piece of meat out -of the cage to him. Mutt grabbed it and gobbled it down, but he didn't -thank me any. Mutt, he says: - -“There's a new dog down town that says he blew in from Chicago. He says -he used to be a Blind Man's Dog on a street corner there. He's a -pretty wise dog, and he's a right ornery-looking dog, too. He's peeled -considerably where he has been bit in fights.” - -“Well, Mutt,” says I, “as far as that goes I'm peeled considerable -myself where I've been bit in fights.” - -“I know you are, Spot,” says Mutt. “You don't need to tell me that. I've -peeled you some myself from time to time.” - -“Yes,” I says, “you did peel me some, Mutt. And I've peeled you some, -too. More'n that, I notice that right leg of yours is a little stiff yet -where I got to it about three weeks ago.” - -“Well, then, Spot,” says Mutt, “maybe you want to come down here and see -what you can do to my other three legs. I never saw the day I wouldn't -give you a free bite at one leg and still be able to lick you on the -other three.” - -“You wouldn't talk that way if I was out of this cage,” I says, getting -riled. - -“What did you ever let yourself be put into that fool cage for?” Mutt -says. “You didn't have to. You got such a swell head on you the last -week or so that you gotto be licked. You can fool boys and humans all -you want to about that accidental old lion, but us dogs got your number, -all right. What that Blind Man's Dog from Chicago would do to you would -be a plenty!” - -“Well, then,” I says, “I'll be out of this cage along about supper time. -Suppose you bring that Blind Man's Dog around here. And if he ain't -got a spiked collar on to him, I'll fight him. I won't fight a -spike-collared dog to please anybody.” - -And I wouldn't, neither, without I had one on myself, If you can't get -a dog by the throat or the back of his neck, what's the use of fighting -him? You might just as well try to eat a blacksmith shop as fight one of -those spike-collared dogs. - -“Hey, there!” Freckles yelled at Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's -boy. “You get your fool dog away from the lion-eaters cage!” - -Tom, he histed Mutt away. But he says to Freckles, being jealous -himself, “Don't be scared, Freck, I won't let my dog hurt yours any. -Spot, he's safe. He's in a cage where Mutt can't get to him.” - -Freckles got riled. He says, “1 ain't in any cage, Tom.” - -Tom, he didn't want to fight very bad. But all the other boys and dogs -was looking on. And he'd sort of started it. He didn't figure that he -could shut up that easy. And there was some girls there, too. - -“If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “you'd wish you was in a -cage.” - -Freckles, he didn't want to fight so bad, either. But he was running -this circus, and he didn't feel he could afford to pass by what Tom said -too easy. So he says: - -“Maybe you think you're big enough to put me into a cage.” - -“If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “there wouldn't be enough -left of you to put in a cage.” - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “why don't you make a pass at me?” - -“Maybe you figure I don't dast to,” says Tom. - -“I didn't say you didn't dast to,” says Freckles; “any one that says -I said you didn't dast to is a link, link, liar, and so's his Aunt -Mariar.” - -Tom, he says, “I ain't got any Aunt Mariar. And you're another and -dastn't back it.” - -Then some of the other kids put chips on to their shoulders. And each -dared the other to knock his chip off. And the other kids pushed and -jostled them into each other till both chips fell off, and they went at -it then. Once they got started they got really mad and each did all he -knew how. - -And right in the midst of it Mutt run in and bit Freckles on the calf -of his leg. Any dog will fight for his boy when his boy is getting the -worst of it. But when Mutt did that I give a bulge against the wooden -slats on the cage and two of them came off, and I was on top of Mutt. -The circus was in the barn, and the hens began to scream and the horses -began to stomp, and all the boys yelled, “Sick 'im!” and “Go to it!” - and danced around and hollered, and the little girls yelled, and all the -other dogs began to bark, and it was a right lively and enjoyable time. -But Mrs. Watson, Freckles's mother, and the hired girl ran out from the -house and broke the fight up. - -Grown women are like that. They don't want to fight themselves, and -they don't seem to want any one else to have any fun. You gotto be a -hypocrite around a grown woman to get along with her at all. And then -she'll feed you and make a lot of fuss over you. But the minute you -start anything with real enjoyment in it she's surprised to see you -acting that way. Nobody was licked satisfactory in that fight, or licked -any one else satisfactory. - -Well, that night after supper, along comes that Blind Man's Dog. Never -did I see a Blind Man's Dog that was as tight-skinned. I ain't a dog -that brags, myself, and I don't say I would have licked that heavy a dog -right easy, even if he had been a loose-skinned dog. What I do say is -that I had been used to fighting looseskinned dogs that you can get -some sort of a reasonable hold on to while you are working around for -position. And running into a tight-skinned dog that way, all of a sudden -and all unprepared for it, would make anybody nervous. How are you -going to get a purchase on a tight-skinned dog when you've been fighting -looseskinned dogs for so long that your teeth and jaws just naturally -set themselves for a loose-skinned dog without thinking of it? - -Lots of dogs wouldn't have fought him at all when they realized how they -had been fooled about him, and how tight-skinned he was. But I was a -Public Character now, and I had to fight him. More than that, I ain't -ready to say yet that that dog actually licked me. Freckles he hit him -in the ribs with a lump of soft coal, and he got off of me and run away -before I got my second wind. There's no telling what I would have done -to that Blind Man's Dog, tight-skinned as he was, if he hadn't run away -before I got my second wind. - -Well, there's some mighty peculiar dogs in this world, let alone boys -and humans. The word got around town, in spite of his running away like -that before I got my second wind, that that Blind Man's Dog, so called, -had actually licked me! Many pretended to believe it. Every time -Freckles and me went down the street someone would say: - -“Well, the dog that licked the lion got licked himself, did he?” - -And if it was a lady said it, Freckles would spit on the sidewalk -through the place where his front teeth are out and pass on politely as -if he hadn't heard, and say nothing. And if it was a man that said it -Freckles would thumb his nose at him. And if it was a girl that said -it he would rub a handful of sand into her hair. And if it was a boy -anywhere near his size, there would be a fight. If it was too big a boy, -Freckles would sling railroad iron at him. - -For a week or so it looked like Freckles and I were fighting all the -time. Three or four times a day, and every day. Oft the way to school, -and all through recess-times, and after school, and every time we went -on to the street. I got so chewed and he got so busted up that we didn't -hardly enjoy life. - -No matter how much you may like to fight, some of the time you would -like to pick the fights yourself and not have other people picking them -off of you. Kids begun to fight Freckles that wouldn't have dast to -stand up to him a month before. I was still a Public Character, but I -was getting to be the kind you josh about instead of the kind you are -proud to feed. I didn't care so awful much for myself, but I hated it -for Freckles. For when they got us pretty well hacked, all the boys -began to call him Harold again. - -And after they had called him Harold for a week he must have begun to -think of himself as Harold. For one Saturday afternoon when there wasn't -any school, instead of going swimming with the other kids or playing -baseball, or anything, he went and played with girls. - -He must have been pretty well down-hearted and felt himself pretty much -of an outcast, or he wouldn't have done that. I am an honest dog, and -the truth must be told, the disgrace along with everything else, and -the truth is that he played with girls of his own accord that day--not -because he was sent to their house on an errand, not because it was a -game got up with boys and girls together, not because it was cousins -and he couldn't dodgje them, but because he was an outcast. Any boy will -play with girls when all the boys and girls are playing together, and -some girls are nearly as good as boys; but no boy is going off alone to -look up a bunch of girls and play with them without being coaxed unless -he has had considerable of a down-fall. - -Right next to the side of our yard was the Wilkinses. They had a bigger -house and a bigger yard than ours. Freckles was sitting on the top of -the fence looking into their orchard when the three Wilkins girls came -out to play. There was only two boys in the Wilkins family, and they was -twins; but they were only year-old babies and didn't amount to anything. -The two oldest Wilkins girls, the taffy-coloured-haired one and the -squint-eyed one, each had one of the twins, taking care of it. And the -other Wilkins girl, the pretty one, she had one of those big dolls made -as big as a baby. - -They were rolling those babies and the doll around the grass in a -wheelbarrow, and the wheel came off, and that's how Freckles happened to -go over. - -“Up in the attic,” says the taffy-coloured-haired one, when he had fixed -up the wheelbarrow, “there's a little old express wagon with one wheel -off that would be better'n this wheelbarrow. Maybe you could fix that -wheel on, too, Harold.” - -Freckles, he fell for it. After he got the wagon fixed, they got to -playing charades and fool girl games like that. The hired girl was off -for the afternoon, and pretty soon Mrs. Wilkins hollered up the stairs -that she was going to be gone for an hour, and to take good care of the -twins, and then we were alone in the place. - -Well, it wasn't much fun for me. They played and they played, and I -stuck to Freckles--which his name was called nothing but Harold all that -afternoon, and for the first time I said to myself “Harold” seemed to -fit. I stuck to him because a dog should stick to his boy, and a boy -should stick to his dog, no matter what the disgrace. But after while -I got pretty tired and lay down on a rug, and a new kind of flea struck -me. After I had chased him down and cracked him with my teeth I went to -sleep. - -I must have slept pretty sound and pretty long. All of a sudden I waked -up with a start, and almost choking, for the place was smoky. I barked -and no one answered. - -I ran out on to the landing, and the whole house was full of smoke. The -house was on fire, and it looked like I was alone in it. I went down the -back stairway, which didn't seem so full of smoke, but the door that let -out on to the first-floor landing was locked, and I had to go back up -again. - -By the time I got back up, the front stairway was a great deal fuller -of smoke, and I could see glints of flame winking through it way down -below. But it was my only way out of that place. On the top step I -stumbled over a gray wool bunch of something or other, and I picked it -up in my mouth. Thinks I, “That is Freckles's gray sweater, that he is -so stuck on. I might as well take it down to him.” - -It wasn't so hard for a lively dog to get out of a place like that, I -thought. But I got kind of confused and excited, too. And it struck me -all of a sudden, by the time I was down to the second floor, that that -sweater weighed an awful lot. - -1 dropped it on the second floor, and ran into one of the front bedrooms -and looked out. - -By jings! the whole town was in the front yard and in the street. - -And in the midst of the crowd was Mrs. Wilkins, carrying on like mad. - -“My baby!” she yelled. “Save my baby. Let me loose! I'm going after my -baby!” - -I stood up on my hind legs, with my head just out of that bedroom -window, and the flame and smoke licking up all around me, and barked. - -“My doggie! My doggie!” yells Freckles, who was in the crowd, “I must -save my doggie!” And he made a run for the house, but someone grabbed -him and slung him back. - -And Mrs. Wilkins made a run, but they held her, too. The front of the -house was one sheet of flame. Old Pop Wilkins, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, -was jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Wilkins yelling, here was her -baby. He had a real baby in one arm and that big doll in the other, and -was so excited he thought he had both babies. Later I heard what had -happened. The kids had thought they were getting out with both twins but -one of them had saved the doll and left a twin behind. The squint-eyed -girl and the taffy-coloured-haired girl and the pretty girl was howling -as loud as their mother. And every now and then some man would make a -rush for the front door, but the fire would drive him back. And everyone -was yelling advice to everyone else, except one man who was calling on -the whole town to get him an axe. The volunteer fire engine was there, -but there wasn't any water to squirt through it, and it had been backed -up too near the house and had caught fire and was burning up. - -Well, I thinks that baby will likely turn up in the crowd somewhere, -after all, and I'd better get out of there myself while the getting was -good. I ran out of the bedroom, and run into that bunched-up gray bundle -again. - -I ain't saying that I knew it was the missing twin in a gray shawl when -I picked it up the second time. And I ain't saying that I didn't know -it. But the fact is that I did pick it up. I don't make any brag that I -would have risked my life to save Freckles's sweater. It may be I was so -rattled I just picked it up because I had had it in my mouth before and -didn't quite know what I was doing. - -But the _record_ is something you can't go behind, and the record is -that I got out the back way and into the back yard with that bundle -swinging from my mouth, and walked round into the front yard and laid -that bundle down--_and it was the twin!_ - -1 don't make any claim that I _knew_ it was the twin till I got into the -front yard, mind you. But you can't prove I _didn't_ know it was. - -And nobody tried to prove it. The gray bundle let out a squall. - -“My baby!” yells Mrs. Wilkins. And she kissed me! I rubbed it off with -my paw. And then the taffy-coloured-haired one kissed me. And the first -thing I knew the pretty one kissed me. But when I saw the squint-eyed -one coming I got behind Freckles and barked. - -“Three cheers for Spot!” yelled the whole town. And they give them. - -And then I saw what the lay of the land was, so 1 wagged my tail and -barked. - -It called for that hero stuff, and I throwed my head up and looked -noble--and pulled it. - -An hour before Freckles and me had been outcasts. And now we was Public -Characters again. We walked down Main Street, and we owned it. And -we hadn't any more than got to Doc Watson's drug store than in rushed -Heinie Hassenyager with a lump of Hamburg steak, and with tears in his -eyes. - -“It's got chicken livers mixed in it, too!” says Heinie. I ate it. But -while I ate it, I growled at him. - - - - -WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) - -Never did I suppose that I would be a bloodhound in an “Uncle Tom's -Cabin” show. But I have been one, and my constant wish is that it has -not made me too proud and haughty. For proud and haughty dogs, sooner -or later, all have their downfalls. The dog that was the rightful -bloodhound in that show was the proudest and haughtiest dog I ever met, -and he had his downfall. - -Other proud and haughty dogs I have seen, in my time; and some of them -I have licked, and some of them have licked me. For instance, there was -the one that used to be a blind man's dog on a street corner in Chicago. -He was a tough, loud-barking, red-eyed dog, full of suspiciousness and -fleas; and his disposition was so bad that it was even said that if one -of his fleas bit an ordinary dog, that ordinary dog would swell up where -he was bit as if a hornet had stung him. He was proud of those fleas and -proud of being that ornery; but he had his downfall. - -Another proud and haughty dog I knew belonged to the dog and pony part -of a circus that came to our town once. He sat in a little cart in the -street parade, with a clown's hat and jacket on, and drove a Shetland -pony. You couldn't get him into a fight; he would just grin and say he -was worth too much money to risk himself in a fight, especially as the -money he was worth did not belong to him anyhow, but to the circus that -owned him. He said it wouldn't be honest to risk other people's money -just because he wanted to fight; but I have never believed that he -really wanted to fight. He grinned mostly all the time, a conceited kind -of grin, and he would up-end himself and stand on his head for you to -admire him, and then flop over and bark and look proud of his own tricks -and proud of the money he was worth. But he had his downfall right in -the midst of his greatest pride, for a brindle Tom-cat with one eye -went after him right in the middle of that street parade, and he left -that cart very quickly, and it nearly broke up the parade. - -But the proudest and haughtiest of all was the bloodhound that owned -that Uncle Tom show--leastways, he acted as if he owned it. It was a -show that showed in a tent, like a regular circus, and it stayed in our -town three days. It had a street parade, too; and this bloodhound was -led along at the head of the street parade with a big heavy muzzle on, -and he was loaded down with chains and shackles so he could hardly walk. -Besides the fellow that led him, there were two more men that followed -along behind him and held on to chains that were fastened to his collar. -In front of him marched the Uncle Tom of that show; and every now and -then the bloodhound would struggle to get at Uncle Tom and be pulled -back. He was a very dangerous-looking dog, and you thought to yourself -what a lot of damage he would probably do if he was ever to bite those -chains to pieces and eat up those three men that held him and chew Uncle -Tom and then run loose into the world. Every step he took he would toss -his head and jangle those chains and growl. - -After the parade was over, a lot of us dogs and boys went down to the -lot where the show was to be held. We were hanging around the tent where -the actors were eating, and that bloodhound dog was there without chains -like any other dog, and us dogs got to talking with him. - -“You country-town dogs,” he says to Mutt Mulligan, who is a friend of -mine and some considerable dog himself, “don't want to come fussin' -around too close to my cook tent or my show! Us troupers ain't got any -too much use for you hick dogs, anyhow.” - -“Oh, it's _your_ show, is it?” says Mutt. - -“Whose show did you think it was?” says that bloodhound dog, very -haughty. - -“1 thought from all those chains and things, maybe the show owned you, -instead of you owning the show,” says Mutt. - -“You saw who led that street parade, didn't you?” says the bloodhound -dog. “Well, that ought to tell you who the chief actor of this show is. -This here show is built up around me. If anything was to happen to me, -there couldn't be any show.” - -Mutt, he gave me a signal with his tail to edge in a little closer, and -I sidled up to where I could grab a front leg unexpected to him, if he -made a pass at Mutt. And then Mutt says, sneering so his teeth stuck out -and his nose wrinkled: - -“Something's goin' to happen to you, if you ain't more polite and -peaceable in your talk.” - -“What's goin' to happen to me?” says that bloodhound dog. - -“Don't you let them bristles rise around your neck,” says Mutt, “or -you'll find out what's goin' to happen to you.” - -“Whose bristles are they?” says that bloodhound dog. - -“It don't make any difference whose bristles they are,” says Mutt. “No -dog can stick his bristles up into my face like that and get away with -it. When I see bristles stand up, I take it personal.” - -But just then Old Uncle Zeb White, who is coloured, come amoseyin' -along, and that Tom-show dog barked out: - -“Somebody hold me! Quick! Somebody muzzle me! Somebody better put my -chains on to me again! Somebody better tell that coloured man to clear -out of here! I've been trained to chase coloured men! What do they mean -by letting that coloured man get near my show tent?” - -Old Uncle Zeb, he is the quietest and most peaceable person anywhere, -amongst dogs, boys, or humans, and the janitor of the Baptist church. He -is the only coloured man in our town, and is naturally looked up to and -respected with a good deal of admiration and curiosity on that account, -and also because he is two hundred years old. He used to be the -bodyservant of General George Washington, he says, until General -Washington set him free. And then along comes Abraham Lincoln after -a while and sets him free again, he says. And being set free by two -prominent men like that, Uncle Zeb figures he is freer than anybody -else, and I have heard him tell, time and again, how he can't speak -kindly enough of them two white gentlemen. - -“Don't anybody sick me on to that coloured man,” says this bloodhound -dog. “If I was to be sicked on to that coloured man, this whole town -couldn't pull me off again! I been trained to it, I tell you!” - -Which it was easy enough to see he really didn't want to start anything; -it was just his pride and haughtiness working in him. Just then -Freckles Watson, who is my boy that I own, and Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt -Mulligan's boy, both says: “Sick 'im!” Not that they understood what -us dogs was talking about, but they saw me and Mutt sidling around that -Tom-show dog, and it looked to them like a fight could be commenced. But -the Tom-show dog, when he heard that “Sick 'im!” jumped and caught Uncle -Zeb by a leg of his trousers. Then Uncle Zeb's own dog, which his name -is Burning Deck after a piece Uncle Zeb heard recited one time, comes -a-bulging and a-bouncing through the crowd and grabs that Tom-show dog -by the neck. - -They rolled over and over, and into the eating tent, and under the -table. The actors jumped up, and the table got tipped over, and the -whole meal and the tin dishes they was eating off of and all the actors -and the benches and the dogs was wallowing and banging and kicking and -barking and shouting on the ground in a mess, and all of us other dogs -run in to help Burning Deck lick that bloodhound, and all the boys -followed their dogs in to see a square deal, and then that tent come -down on top of everything, and believe me it was some enjoyable time. -And I found quite a sizeable piece of meat under there in the mix-up, -and I thinks to myself I better eat that while I can get it, so I -crawled out with it. Outside is sitting Uncle Zeb, watching that -fallen-down tent heaving and twisting and squirming, and I heard him say -to himself: - -“White folks is allers gittin' up some kin' of entuh-tainment fo' us -cullud people to look at! Us cullud people suah does git treated fine in -dese heah Nothe'n towns!” - -Pretty soon everybody comes crawling out from under that tent, and they -straightens her up, and the boss of the show begins to talk like Uncle -Zeb has done the whole thing, and Uncle Zeb just sits on the grass and -smiles and scratches his head. And finally the boss of the show says to -Uncle Zeb could he hire Burning Deck for the bloodhound's part? Because -Burning Deck has just about chewed that proud and haughty dog to pieces, -and they've got to have a bloodhound! - -“No, suh,” says Uncle Zeb. “No, suh! I thank yo' kindly fo' yo' offer, -suh, but Burnin' Deck, he ain't gwine inter no show whah he likely ter -be sicked on ter no cullud pusson. Burnin' Deck, he allers been a good -Republican, bringed up that-a-way, des de same as me, an' we ain't gwine -ter take no paht in any gwines-on agin' de cullud nation.” - -“But see here,” says the boss. “In this show the coloured people get all -the best of it. In this show the coloured people go to Heaven!” - -Uncle Zeb says he had heard a good deal about that Uncle Tom show in his -life, first and last, and because he had heard so much, he went to see -it one time. And he says if getting chased by bloodhounds and whipped by -whips is giving them the best of it, he hopes he never obtains admission -to any show where they get the worst of it. The boss, he says that show -is the show that helped make the coloured people free, and Uncle Zeb -ought to be proud of Burning Deck acting in it. But Uncle Zeb says he -ain't to be fooled; it was General Washington set 'em free first, and -Abraham Lincoln set 'em free the second time, and now President Wilson -is licking them Germans and setting them free again. And as for him, he -says, he will stick to his own white folks that he knows and janitors -for and whose clothes fit him, and Burning Deck will do the same. And -as far as them Tom-show coloured folks' going to heaven is concerned, he -reckons he don't want to be chased there by no bloodhounds; and it ain't -likely that a man that has janitored for a Baptist church as faithful as -he has would go anywhere else, anyhow. So he takes Burning Deck and goes -along home. - -“I've got to have a dog,” says the boss, watching them get the tent -fixed up, and rubbing his head. - -“Would Spot do?” says Freckles, which is my boy, Spot being me. - -Well, I never expected to be an actor, as I said before. But they struck -a bargain, which Freckles was to get free admission to that show, and I -was to be painted and dyed up some and be a bloodhound. Which the boss -said the regular bloodhound which Burning Deck had eat so much of wasn't -really a bloodhound, anyhow, but only a big mongrel with bloodhound -notions in his head. - -Well, maybe you've seen that show. Which all the bloodhound has to do is -to run across the stage chasing that Uncle Tom, and Freckles was to run -across with me, so there wasn't much chance to go wrong. - -And nothing would have gone wrong if it hadn't been for Burning Deck. -Uncle Zeb White must have got over his grouch against that show, for -there he was sitting in the front row with a new red handkerchief around -his throat and his plug hat on his knees, and Burning Deck was there -with him. I never had anything but liking for Uncle Zeb, for he knows -where to scratch dogs. But Burning Deck and me have never been close -friends, on account of him being jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches you -too long. He even is jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches a pig, which all -the pigs in town that can get loose have a habit of coming to Uncle -Zeb's cottage to be scratched, and they say around town that some of -those pigs never find their way home again. Squeals have been heard -coming from Uncle Zeb's kitchen, but the rest of the pigs never seem to -learn. - -But no self-respecting dog would be jealous if his boss scratched a pig. -For after all, what is a pig? It is just a pig, and that is all you -can say for it. A pig is not a person; a pig is something to eat. But -Burning Deck is a peculiar dog, and he gets ideas into his head. And so, -right in the midst of the show, when I chased that coloured man across -the stage, Burning Deck all of a sudden jumped up on to the platform and -grabbed me. I would have licked him then and there, but what was left of -the show's bloodhound come crawling out on to the stage dragging two -of his legs, and Burning Deck turned from me to him, and then all the -actors run on to the stage to save what was left of the bloodhound, and -Si Emery, the city marshal, threw open his coat so you could see his big -star and climbed on to the stage and arrested everybody, and somebody -dropped the curtain down right into the midst of it. - -And the way it happened, on the outside of the curtain was left Freckles -and me and the Little Eva of that show, which she is beautiful, with -long yellow hair and pink cheeks and white clothes like an angel. And -before Freckles could stop her, she took hold of him by the hand and -says to the audience won't they please be kind to the poor travelling -troupers and not let them be under arrest, and let the show go on? And -she cried considerable, and all through her crying you could hear Si -Emery behind the curtain arresting people; and after while some of the -women in the audience got to crying, too, and the city fathers was all -in the audience, and they went up on to the stage and told Si, for the -sake of Little Eva, to release everyone he had arrested, and after that -the show went on. - -Well, after the show was out, quite a lot of the dogs and boys that was -friends of mine and of Freckles was waiting for us. Being in a show like -that made us heroes. But some of them were considerably jealous of us, -too, and there would have been some fights, but Freckles says kind of -dignified that he does not care to fight until his show is out of town, -but after that he will take on any and all who dare--that is, he says, -if he doesn't decide to go with that show, which the show is crazy -to have him do. And me and him and Stevie Stevenson, which is his -particular chum, goes off and sets down on the schoolhouse steps, and -Stevie tells him what a good actor he was, running across the stage with -me after that Uncle Tom. But Freckles, he is sad and solemn, and he only -fetches a sigh. - -“What's eatin' you, Freckles?” Stevie asks him. Freckles, he sighs a -couple of times more, and then he says: - -“Stevie, I'm in love.” - -“Gosh, Freckles,” says Stevie. “Honest?” - -“Honest Injun,” says Freckles. - -“Do you know who with?” says Stevie. - -“Uh-huh!” says Freckles. “If you didn't know who with, how would you -know you was?” - -But Stevie, he says you might be and not know who with, easy enough. -Once, he says, he was like that. He says he was feeling kind of queer -for a couple of weeks last spring, and they dosed him and dosed him, -with sassafras and worm-medicine and roots and herbs, and none of it did -any good. His mother says it is growing-pains, and his father says it -is either laziness and not wanting to hoe in the garden or else it is -a tapeworm. And he thinks himself maybe it is because he is learning to -chew and smoke tobacco on the sly and keeps swallowing a good deal of it -right along. But one day he hears his older sister and another big girl -talking when they don't know he is around, and they are in love, both -of them, and from what he can make out, their feelings is just like his. -And it come to him all of a sudden he must be in love himself, and it -was days and days before he found out who it was that he was in love -with. - -“Who was it?” asks Freckles. - -“It turned out to be Mabel Smith,” says Stevie, “and I was scared plumb -to death for a week or two that she would find out about it. I used to -put toads down her back and stick burrs into her hair so she wouldn't -never guess it.” - -Stevie says he went through days and days of it, and for a while he was -scared that it might last forever, and he don't ever want to be in love -again. Suppose it should be found out on a fellow that he was in love? - -“Stevie,” says Freckles, “this is different.” - -Stevie asks him how he means. - -“I _want_ her to know,” says Freckles. - -“Great Scott!” says Stevie. “No!” - -“Uh-huh!” - -“It don't show on you, Freckles,” says Stevie. - -Freckles says of course it don't show. Only first love shows, he says. -Once before he was in love, he says, and that showed on him. That was -last spring, and he was only a kid then, and he was in love with Miss -Jones, the school teacher, and didn't know how to hide it. But this -time he can hide it, because this time he feels that it is different. He -swallows down the signs of it, he says, the way you keep swallowing down -the signs of it when you have something terrible like heart-disease or -stomach-trouble, and nobody will ever know it about him, likely, till -after he is dead. - -And when he is dead, Freckles says, they will all wonder what he died -of, and maybe he will leave a note, wrote in his own blood, to tell. And -they will all come in Injun file and pass through the parlour, he says, -where his casket will be set on to four chairs, and She will come filing -by and look at him, and she will say not to bury him yet, for there is a -note held tight in his hand. - -And everybody will say: “A note? A note? Who can it be to?” - -And She will say to pardon her for taking the liberty at a time like -this, but She has saw her own name on to that note. And then, Freckles -says, She will open it and read it out loud right there in the parlour -to all of them, and they will all say how the departed must have liked -her to draw up a note to her wrote in his own blood like that. - -And then, Freckles says, She will say, yes, he must have liked her, and -that she liked him an awful lot, too, but She never knew he liked her, -and She wished now she had of known he liked her an awful lot, because -to write a note in his own blood like that showed that he liked her an -awful lot, and if he only was alive now she would show she liked him an -awful lot and would kiss him to show it. And she would not be scared to -kiss him in front of all those people standing around the sides of the -parlour, dead or alive. And then she would kiss him, Freckles says. And -maybe, Freckles says, he wouldn't be dead after all, but only just lying -there like the boy that travelled around with the hypnotizer who was put -in a store window and laid there all the time the hypnotizer was in town -with everybody making bets whether they could see him breathing or not. -And then, Freckles says, he would get up out of his casket, and his -Sunday suit with long pants would be on, and he would take the note and -say: “Yes, it is to you, and I wrote it with my own blood!” - -Which, Freckles says, he has a loose tooth he could suck blood out -of any time, not wanting to scrape his arm on account of blood poison -breaking out. Though he says he had thought of using some of Spot's -blood, but that would seem disrespectful, somehow. And the tooth-blood -seemed disrespectful, too, for he did not know the girl right well. But -it would have to be the tooth-blood, he guessed, for there was a fellow -out by the county line got lockjaw from blood poison breaking out on -him, and died of it. And when She handed him the note, Freckles says, -he would tell the people in the parlour: “Little Eva and I forgive you -all!” - -“Little Eva!” says Stevie. “Gosh all fish hooks, Freckles, it ain't the -girl in the show, is it?” - -“Uh-huh!” says Freckles, kind of sad and proud. “Freckles,” says Stevie, -after they had both set there and thought, saying nothing, for a while, -“I got just one more question to ask you: Are you figuring you will get -married? Is it as bad as that?” - -“Uh-huh!” says Freckles. - -Stevie, he thought for another while, and then he got up and put his -hand on to Freckles's shoulder. - -“Freckles, old scout,” he says, “good-bye. I'm awful sorry for you, but -I can't chase around with you any more. I can't be seen running with -you. I won't tell this on you, but if it was ever to come out I wouldn't -want to be too thick with you. You know what the Dalton Gang would do to -you, Freck, if they ever got on to this. I won't blab, but I can't take -no risks about chumming with you.” - -And he went away and left Freckles and me sitting there. But in a minute -he came back and said: - -“Freckles, you know that iron sling-shot crotch of mine? You always used -to be stuck on that slingshot crotch, Freckles, and I never would trade -it to you. Well, Freckles, you can have that darned old iron slingshot -crotch free for nothing!” - -“Stevie,” says Freckles, “I don't want it.” - -“Gosh!” says Stevie, and he went off, shaking his head. - -And I was considerable worried myself. I tagged him along home, and he -wasn't natural. He went into the house, and I tagged him along in and up -to his room, and he took no notice of me, though I'm not supposed to be -there at all. - -And what do you suppose that kid did?--he went and washed his ears. -It was midnight, and there wasn't any one to make him do it, and there -wasn't any one to see his ears but me, but he washed 'em careful, inside -and out. And then he wet his hair and combed it. First he parted it on -one side, and then he parted it x on the other, and then he blushed and -parted it in the middle. I was sitting on the floor by the foot of the -bed, and he was facing the looking-glass, but I saw the blush because it -spread clear around to the back of his neck. - -And then he went to the closet and put on his long pants that belonged -to his Sunday suit. The looking-glass wasn't big enough so he could -see his hair and his long pants all at the same time, but he tilted the -glass and squirmed and twisted around and saw them bit by bit. At first -I thought maybe he was going out again, even at that time of night, but -he wasn't; all he was doing was admiring himself. Just then his father -pounded on the wall and asked him if he wasn't in bed yet, and he said -he was going. He put the light out right away. But he didn't go to bed. -He just sat in the dark with his clean ears and his long pants on and -his hair parted in the middle, and several times before I went to sleep -myself I heard him sigh and say: “Little Eva! Little Eva's dying! Little -Eva!” - -He must have got so tired he forgot to undress, staying up that late and -everything, for in the morning when his father pounded on the door he -didn't answer. I was under the bed, and I stayed there. Pretty soon his -father pounded again, and then he came into the room. And there Freckles -was lying on the bed with his Sunday pants on and his hair parted in the -middle and his ears clean. - -“Harold!” says his father, and shook him, “what does this mean?” - -Harold is Freckles's other name, but if any one of his size calls him -Harold, there will be a fight. He sat up on the bed and says, still -sleepy: - -“What does what mean, Pa?” - -“Your lying there asleep with your clothes on,” says his father.. - -“I was dressing, and I went to sleep again,” says Freckles. - -“Uh-huh!” says his father. “It looks like it, don't it?” - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - -I had crawled out to the foot of the bed where I could see them, and he -was still sleepy, but he was trying hard to think up something. - -“It looks a lot like it,” says his father. “If you had slept in that -bed, the covers would have been turned down, wouldn't they?” - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles, looking at them. - -“Well, what then?” says his father. - -“Well, Pa,” says Freckles, “I guess I must have made that bed up again -in my sleep, and I never knew it.” - -“Humph!” says his father. “Do you do that often?” - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “a good deal lately.” - -“Harold,” says his father, real interested, “aren't you feeling well -these days?” - -“No, Pa,” says Freckles, “I ain't felt so very well for quite a while.” - -“Humph!” says his pa. “How does it come when you dressed yourself you -put on your Sunday pants, and this is only Tuesday?” - -Harold says he guesses he did that in his sleep, too, the same time he -made the bed up. - -His pa wants to know if that has ever happened to him before. - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “once I woke up in the moonlight right out -on one of the top limbs of the big maple tree in the front yard, with my -Sunday suit on.” - -“Humph!” says his father. “And was your hair parted in the middle that -time, too?” - -Freckles, he blushes till you can hardly see his freckles, and feels of -his hair. But he is so far in, now, that he can't get out. So he says: - -“Yes, sir, every time I get taken that way, so I go around in my sleep, -Pa, I find my hair has been parted in the middle, the next morning.” - -“Uh-huh!” says his pa. “Let's see your ears.” And he pinched one of them -while he was looking at it, and Freckles says, “Ouch!” - -“I thought so,” says his pa, but didn't say what he thought right away. -Then pretty soon he says: “Those ears have been washed since that neck -has.” - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - -“Did you do that in your sleep, too?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Do you always do that when you have those spells of yours?” - -“Yes, sir, I always find my ears have been washed the next morning.” - -“But never your neck?” - -“Sometimes my neck has, and sometimes it hasn't,” said Freckles. - -“Uh-huh!” says his father, and took notice of me. I wagged my tail, and -hung my tongue out, and acted friendly and joyful and happy. If you -want to stay on good terms with grown-up humans, you have to keep them -jollied along. I wasn't supposed to be in the house at night, anyhow, -but I hoped maybe it would be overlooked. - -“Did you paint and dye that dog up that way?” asked Freckles's father. -For of course the paint and dye they had put on me was still there. - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles. “Nearly always when I come to myself in the -morning I find I have dyed Spot.” - -“That's queer, too,” said his father. And then Harold says he dyes other -dogs, too, and once when he woke up in the maple tree there were three -strange dogs he had dyed at the foot of it. - -“Harold,” says his father, “how often do these spells come on?” - -Freckles, he says, some weeks they come often and some weeks hardly -ever. - -“Humph!” says his father. “And when they come on, do you notice it is -harder for you to tell the truth than at any other times?” - -Freckles says he doesn't know what he says in his sleep when those -spells take him, nor even whether he talks in his sleep or not, but he -guesses if he does talk in his sleep what he says would be talk about -his dreams, but he can't remember what his dreams are, so he doesn't -know whether what he says is true or not. - -“Uh-huh!” says his father. “Harold, do you own a gun?” - -“No, sir,” says Harold. Which is true, for he only owns a third interest -in a gun. Tom Mulligan and Stevie Stevenson own the rest of it, and they -are keeping it hid in the rafters of Tom Mulligan's barn till they can -save money enough to get it fixed so it will shoot. - -“You haven't killed anybody in these spells of yours, have you, Harold?” - asks his father. - -“No, sir,” says Freckles. - -“How would you know if you had?” asks his father. - -Freckles says there would be blood on him next morning, wouldn't there? - -“Not,” says his father, “if you stood at a distance and killed them with -a gun.” - -Freckles knows he hasn't ever really had any of these spells he says he -has had, but from his looks I should judge he was scared, too, by the -way his father was acting. - -“Pa,” he says, “has any one been found dead?” - -“The body hasn't been found yet,” says his father, “but from what I -heard you say, early this morning in your sleep, I should judge one will -be found.” - -I thinks to myself maybe Freckles does do things in his sleep after all, -and from the looks of his face he thinks so, too. He is looking scared. - -“Pa,” he says, “who did I kill? What did I say?” - -“You said: 'Little Eva's dying! Little Eva's dying!'” said his father. -“I heard you say it over and over again in your sleep.” - -Freckles, he gets red in the face again, and stares at his feet, and his -pa stands and grins at him for a minute or two. And then his pa says: -“Get into your weekday clothes and wash your face and neck to match your -ears, and come on down to breakfast. When you get ready to tell what's -on your mind, all right; but don't try to tell lies to your dad.” - -“Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - -But he looked mighty gloomy. And when his father went out of the room -he got his fountain pen and sucked some blood out of his loose tooth and -tried to spit it into his fountain pen. From which I judged he was still -of a notion to write that letter and was pretty low in his mind. But he -couldn't spit it into the pen, right. And he cried a little, and then -saw me watching him crying and slapped at me with a hairbrush; and then -he petted me and I let him pet me, for a dog, if he is any sort of dog -at all, will always stand by his boy in trouble as well as gladness, and -overlook things. A boy hasn't got much sense, anyhow; and a boy without -a dog to keep him steered right must have a pretty tough time in the -world. - -If he was low in his mind then, he was lower in his mind before the -day was through. For after breakfast there was Stevie Stevenson and Tom -Mulligan waiting for him outside, and in spite of his promise, Stevie -has told everything to Tom. And Tom has a wart and offers some wart -blood to write that letter in. But Freckles says another person's blood -would not be fair and honourable. He has a wart of his own, if he wanted -to use wart blood, but wart blood is not to be thought of. What would -a lady think if she found out it was wart blood? It would be almost and -insult, wart blood would; it would be as bad as blood from a corn or -bunion. - -“Well, then,” says Stevie, “the truth is that you don't want to write -that letter, anyhow. Last night you talked big about writing that -letter, but this morning you're hunting up excuses for not writing it.” - -“I'll write it if I want to write it, and you can't stop me,” says -Freckles. “And I won't write it if I don't want to write it, and nobody -of your size can make me.” - -“I can too stop you,” says Stevie, “if I want to.” - -“You don't dast to want to stop me,” says Freckles. - -“I do dast,” says Stevie. - -“You don't,” says Freckles. - -“I do,” says Stevie. - -“You're a licked, licked liar--and so's your Aunt Mariar,” says -Freckles. - -“I ain't got any Aunt Mariar,” says Stevie. - -“You don't dast to have an Aunt Mariar,” says Freckles. - -“I do dast,” says Stevie. - -Then Tom put a chip on each of their shoulders, and pushed them at each -other, and the chips fell off, and they went down behind the barn and -had it out, and Freckles licked him. Which proves Freckles couldn't be -stopped from writing that note if he wanted to, and he was still so mad -that he wrote it right then and there back of the barn on a leaf torn -out of a notebook Tom Mulligan owned, with his fountain pen, using his -own nose bleed that Stevie had just drawed out of him; and he read out -loud what he wrote. It was: - -_Dear Miss Little Eva: The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is -sweet and so are you. Yours truly. Mr. H. Watson. This is wrote in my -own blood._ - -“Well, now, then,” says Stevie, “where's the coffin?” - -“What do you mean, the coffin?” says Freckles. - -“Last night,” says Stevie, “you was makin' a lot of brags, but this -morning it looks like you didn't have the sand to act up to them.” - -“If you think you've got size enough to make me lay down into a coffin -with that note,” says Freckles, “you got another think cornin' to you. -There ain't a kid my size, nor anywhere near my size, in this whole town -can make me lay down into a coffin with that note. And if you think so, -you just try it on!” - -Stevie, he doesn't want to fight any more. But Tom Mulligan says never -mind the casket. Nobody really wants him to lay in a casket anyhow. He -says he is willing to bet a million dollars Freckles doesn't dast to -carry that note to the show grounds and give it to that Little Eva. - -“I dast!” says Freckles. - -“Dastn't!” says Tom. - -“You don't dast to knock this chip off my shoulder,” says Freckles. - -“I dast!” says Tom. And Stevie give him a push, and he did it. And they -had it. Freckles got him down and jammed his head into the ground. - -“Now, then,” he says, “do I dast to carry that note, or don't I dast -to?” - -“You dast to,” says Tom. “Leave me up.” - -And that was the way it come about that Freckles had to carry the note, -though not wanting to at all. But he did it. We all went with him over -to the show grounds, Stevie Stevenson and Tom Mulligan and Mutt, Tom's -dog, and me. - -There was a lady sitting out in front of one of the tents on a chair. -She had been washing her hair, and it was spread out to dry over her -shoulders, and she was sewing on a pair of boy's pants. She had on a -pair of those big horn-rimmed glasses, and we could see from her hair, -which had gray in it, that she was quite an old lady, though small. I -heard later that she was all of thirty-five or thirty-six years old. - -The rest of us hung back a little ways, and Freckles went up to her and -took off his hat. - -She laid down her sewing and smiled at him. - -“Well, my little man, what is it?” she said. “Were you looking for -somebody?” - -“Yes, ma'am,” says Freckles. He stuttered a little and he was standing -on one foot. - -“For whom?” she asked. - -“For Little Eva,” says Freckles. - -The lady stared at him, and then she smiled again. - -“And what do you want with Little Eva, sonny?” she said. - -Freckles, he stands on the other foot a while, and says nothing. And -like as not he would have backed away, but Tom Mulligan yells: “You -don't dast give it to her, Freck!” - -Then Freckles hands her the letter and gulps and says: “A letter for -Miss Little Eva.” - -The lady takes it and reads it. And then she reads it again. And then -she calls out: “Jim! Oh, Jim!” - -A man comes out of the tent, and she hands it to him. He reads it, and -his mouth drops open, and a pipe he is smoking falls on to the grass. - -“Jim,” says the lady, “someone is making love to your wife!” - -Jim, he reads the letter again, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard -he bends double, and catches the back of the lady's chair. And she -laughs of a sudden and puts her hand in front of her face and laughs -again. And then Jim, he says to Freckles, who has been getting redder -and redder: - -“And who is Mr. H. Watson?” - -“Don't you get it?” says the lady, taking off her glasses to wipe them, -and pointing to Freckles. “This is the boy that owns the dog that played -the bloodhound last night, and _he_ is Mr. H. Watson!” - -And when she took off her glasses like that, we all saw she was the -Little Eva of that show! - -“Mr. H. Watson,” says Jim to Freckles, “did you intend matrimony, or -were you trying to flirt?” - -“Quit your kidding him, Jim,” says Little Eva, still laughing. “Can't -you see he's hacked nearly to death?” - -“None of your business what I intended!” yells Freckles to Jim. And he -picks up a clod of dirt and nearly hits Jim with it, and runs. And we -all run. But when we had run half a block, we looked back, and nobody -was following us. Jim and Little Eva had busted out laughing again, -and was laughing so hard they was hanging on to each other to keep from -falling down. - -“Good-bye, Mr. H. Watson,” yells Jim. “Is it really your own blood?” - -And then began a time of disgrace for Freckles and me such as I never -hope to live through again. For the next thing those two boys that had -been his friends was both dancing round him laughing and calling him Mr. -H. Watson; and by the time we got down to the part of Main Street where -the stores are, every boy and every dog in town was dancing around -Freckles and hearing all about it and yelling, “H. Watson! Mr. H. -Watson! Is it your own blood? Is it your own blood, Mr. H. Watson?” - -Freckles and I did the best we could, fighting all that was our size -and some bigger; but after a couple of hours it got so that most any one -could lick us. Kids that was afraid to stand up to him the day before -could lick him easy, by now, and dogs I had always despised even to -argue with began to get my number. All you could hear, on every side, -was: “Is it your _own_ blood, Mr. Watson?” - -And at noon we went home, but Freckles didn't go into the house for -dinner at all. Instead, he went out to the barn and laid down in the -hay, and I crawled in there with him. And he cried and cried and choked -and choked. I felt sorry for him, and crawled up and licked his face. -But he took me by the scruff of the neck and slung me out of the haymow. -When I crawled back again, he kicked me in the ribs, but he had on -tennis shoes and it didn't hurt much, and anyhow I forgave him. And I -went and crawled back to where he was and nuzzled my head up under his -armpit. And then he cried harder and hugged me and said I was the best -dog in the world and the only friend he ever had. - -And then I licked his face again and he let me and we both felt better, -and pretty soon he went to sleep there and slept for an hour or so, with -his head on my ribs, and I lay there quiet so as not to wake him. Even -when a flea got me, I let that flea bite and didn't scratch for fear -of waking him. But after a while that flea got tired of me, and crawled -over on to Freckles, and he waked natural. And when he waked, he was -hungry, but he didn't want to go into the house for fear the story had -spread to the grown-ups and he would have to answer questions. So he -found a couple of raw turnips, and ate them, and a couple of apples, -only they were green, and he milked the cow a little into an old tin cup -and drank that. And in a little while he begins to have pains, and he -thinks he is getting heart's disease and is really going to die, but he -says to himself out loud if he dies now he won't get any credit for it, -and he would have enjoyed it more if he had died while he still thought -Little Eva was young and beautiful and probably going to marry him in -the end. - -But after awhile it seems turning from heart's disease into some kind of -stomach trouble; so he drinks some stuff out of a bottle that was left -in the barn last spring when Bessie, the old roan mare, had the colic, -and whether it is heart's disease or stomach trouble, that stuff cures -him. And him and me drift along downtown again to see if maybe the kids -have sort of begun to forget about it a little. - -But they hadn't. It had even spread to some of the grown-ups. We went -into Freckles's father's drug store, and Mr. Watson told Freckles to -step around to the post office and ask for his mail. And the clerk in -the post office when we come in, looks at Freckles very solemn and says: - -“Ah, here is Mr. H. Watson, after a letter! Will you have a letter -written in blood?” - -So Freckles told his dad there wasn't any mail, and we sneaked along -home again. That night at supper I was lying on the porch just outside -the dining room and the doors were open, and I heard Freckles's dad say: - -“Harold, would you like to go to the show to-night?” - -“No, Pa,” says Freckles. - -His mother says that is funny; it is the first time she ever heard him -refuse to go to a show of any kind. And his father asks him if anything -special has happened that makes him want to stay away from this -particular show. I guess when his father says that, Freckles thinks his -father is wise, too, so he says he has changed his mind and will go to -the show after all. He didn't want to start any argument. - -So him and me sneaks down to the show grounds again. It is getting dark, -but too early for the show, and every kid we know is hanging around -outside. And what Freckles has had to stand for in the way of kidding -beforehand is nothing to what comes now. For they all gets around him in -a ring and shouts: “Here is the bridegroom! Here is Mr. H. Watson come -to get married to Little Eva! And the wedding invitations are wrote in -his own blood! His own blood! His own blood!” - -And the grown-ups beginning to go into the show all tell each other what -the kids are getting at, and we hear them laughing to each other about -it. Him and me was about the two downest-tail-and-head-hanging-est -persons you ever saw. But we stayed. There wasn't no place else to go, -except home, and we didn't want to go home and be asked again if there -was any special reason for staying away from that particular show. - -And right in the midst of all the yelling and jostling around, a kid -about Freckles's size comes out of the show tent and walks over to the -bunch and says: - -“Now, then, what's all this yelling about Little Eva for?” - -All the kids shut up, and this show kid says to Freckles: - -“Was they yelling bridegroom at _you?_” - -Freckles, he was down, but he wasn't going to let any out-of-town boy -get away with anything, either. All our own gang had him licked and -disgraced, and he knew it; but this was a stranger, and so he spunked -up. - -“S'pose they was yelling bridegroom at me,” he says. “Ain't they got a -right to yell bridegroom at me if they want to? This is a free country.” - -“You won't be yelled bridegroom at if I say you won't,” says the show -kid. - -“I'll be yelled bridegroom at for all of you,” says Freckles. “What's it -to you?” - -“You won't be yelled bridegroom at about my mother,” saws the show kid. - -“Who's being yelled bridegroom at about your mother?” says Freckles. -“I'm being yelled at about Little Eva.” - -“Well, then,” says this kid, “Little Eva is my mother, and you got to -stop being yelled at about her.” - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “you just stop me being yelled at if you -think you're big enough.” - -“I could lick two your size,” says the show kid. “But I won't fight -here. I won't fight in front of this crowd. If I was to fight here, -your crowd might jump into me, too, and I would maybe have to use brass -knucks, and if I was to use brass knucks, I would likely kill someone -and be arrested for it. I'll fight in private like a duel, as gentlemen -ought to.” - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “if any one was to use brass knucks on me, -I would have to use brass knucks on them, and I won't fight any one that -uses brass knucks in private.” - -“Well, then,” says the show kid, “my brass knucks is in my trunk in the -tent, and you don't dast to follow me and fight with bare fists.” - -“My brass knucks is at home,” says Freckles, which was the first I knew -he ever had any, “and I do dast.” So each one searched the other for -brass knucks, and they went off together, me following. The fight was to -be under the bridge over the crick down by the school-house on the edge -of the woods. But when they got down there, the strip of sand by the -side of the crick was in shadow. So they went on top of the bridge, to -fight in the moonlight. But the moonlight was so bright they were afraid -they would be seen by some farmer coming into town and maybe told on -and arrested. So they sat down on the edge of the bridge with their feet -hanging over and talked about where they had better fight to be private, -as gentlemen should. And they got to talking of other things. And pretty -soon they began to kind of like each other, and Freckles says: - -“What's your name?” - -“Percy,” says the show kid. “But you better not call me that. I'd fight -if I was called that out of the family. Call me Spike. What's your -name?” - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “1 don't like mine either; mine is Harold. -But call me Freckles.” - -Spike says he wished he had more freckles himself. But he don't get much -chance for freckles, he says; his mother takes such awful good care of -all the complexions in their family. - -“Well, then,” says Freckles, “I think your mother is an awful nice -lady.” - -Spike, all of a sudden, bursts out crying then and says how would -Freckles like it if people wrote notes to _his_ mother and was yelled at -about her? And Freckles says how would _he_ like it if _he_ was the one -was yelled at, and he never had any idea the lady was grown up and had a -family, and he got to sniffling some himself. - -“Spike,” he says, “you tell your mother I take it all back. You tell her -I was in love with her till I seen her plain off the stage, and since I -have seen her and her family plain, I don't care two cents for her. And -I'll write her an apology for falling into love with her.” - -Which he done it, then and there, in the moonlight, jabbing his fountain -pen into his wart, and it read: - -_Dear Little Eva. Since I seen your husband and son I decided not to say -anything about matrimony, and beg your pardon for it. This is wrote in -my blood and sets you free to fall in love with who you please. You -are older and look different from what I expected, and so let us forget -bygones._ - -_Yours truly,_ - -_H. Watson._ - -“Spike,” says Freckles, when they were walking back to town together, -chewing licorice and pretending it was tobacco, “do you really have some -brass knucks?” - -“No,” says Spike. “Do you, Freckles?” - -“No,” says Freckles. - -And they went back to the tent together and asked the gang if they -wanted any of their game, and nobody did, and the disgrace lifted. - -And I felt so good about that and the end of the love-affair and -everything, that right then and there I hunted up that Burning Deck dog -and give him the licking of his life, which I had never been able to do -before. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - -***** This file should be named 51917-0.txt or 51917-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/1/51917/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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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: The Revolt of the Oyster - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - -By Don Marquis - -Garden City, New York - -Doubleday, Page and Company - -1922 - - -[Illustration: 0010] - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - - -"_Our remote ancestor was probably arboreal."_--Eminent scientist. - - -From his hut in the tree-top Probably Arboreal looked lazily down -a broad vista, still strewn with fallen timber as the result of a -whirlwind that had once played havoc in that part of the forest, toward -the sea. Beyond the beach of hard white sand the water lay blue and vast -and scarcely ruffled by the light morning wind. All the world and his -wife were out fishing this fine day. Probably Arboreal could see dozens -of people from where he crouched, splashing in the water or moving about -the beach; and even hear their cries borne faintly to him on the breeze. -They fished, for the most part, with their hands; and when one caught -a fish it was his custom to eat it where he caught it, standing in the -sea. - -In Probably Arboreal's circle, one often bathed and breakfasted -simultaneously; if a shark or saurian were too quick for one, one -sometimes was breakfasted upon as one bathed. - -In the hut next to Probably Arboreal, his neighbour, Slightly Simian, -was having an argument with Mrs. Slightly, as usual. And, as usual, -it concerned the proper manner of bringing up the children. Probably -listened with the bored distaste of a bachelor. - -"I _will_ slap his feet every time he picks things up with them!" -screamed Slightly Simian's wife, an accredited shrew, in her shrill -falsetto.. - -"It's _natural_ for a child to use his feet that way," insisted the -good-natured Slightly, "and I don't intend to have the boy punished -for what's natural." Probably Arboreal grinned; he could fancy the -expression on Old Sim's face as his friend made this characteristically -plebeian plea. - -"You can understand once for all, Slightly," said that gentleman's wife -in a tone of finality, "that I intend to supervise the bringing-up of -these children. Just because your people had neither birth nor breeding -nor manners----" - -"Mrs. S.!" broke in Slightly, with a warning in his voice. "Don't you -work around to anything caudal, now, Mrs. S.! Or there'll be trouble. -You get me?" - -On one occasion Mrs. Slightly had twitted her spouse with the fact -that his grandfather had a tail five inches long; she had never done -so again. Slightly Simian himself, in his moments of excitement, picked -things up with his feet, but like many other men of humble origin who -have become personages in their maturity, he did not relish having such -faults commented upon. - -"Poor old Sim," mused Probably Arboreal, as he slid down the tree and -ambled toward the beach, to be out of range of the family quarrel. "She -married him for his property, and now she's sore on him because there -isn't more of it." - -Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasant effect of the quarrel, Probably -found his mind dwelling upon matrimony that morning. A girl with bright -red hair, into which she had tastefully braided a number of green -parrot feathers, hit him coquettishly between the shoulder blades with a -handful of wet sand and gravel as he went into the water. Ordinarily -he would either have taken no notice at all of her, or else would have -broken her wrist in a slow, dignified, manly sort of way. But this -morning he grabbed her tenderly by the hair and sentimentally ducked -her. When she was nearly drowned he released her. She came out of the -water squealing with rage like a wild-cat and bit him on the shoulder. - -"Parrot Feathers," he said to her, with an unwonted softness in his -eyes, as he clutched her by the throat and squeezed, "beware how you -trifle with a man's affections--some day I may take you seriously!" - -He let the girl squirm loose, and she scrambled out upon the beach and -threw shells and jagged pieces of flint at him, with an affectation of -coyness. He chased her, caught her by the hair again, and scored the wet -skin on her arms with a sharp stone, until she screamed with the pain, -and as he did it he hummed an old love tune, for to-day there was an -April gladness in his heart. - -"Probably! Probably Arboreal!" He spun around to face the girl's father, -Crooked Nose, who was contentedly munching a mullet. - -"Probably," said Crooked Nose, "you are flirting with my daughter!" - -"Father!" breathed the girl, ashamed of her parent's tactlessness. "How -can you say that!" - -"I want to know," said Crooked Nose, as sternly as a man can who -is masticating mullet, "whether your intentions are serious and -honourable." - -"Oh, father!" said Parrot Feathers again. And putting her hands in front -of her face to hide her blushes she ran off. Nevertheless, she paused -when a dozen feet away and threw a piece of drift-wood at Probably -Arboreal. It hit him on the shin, and as he rubbed the spot, watching -her disappear into the forest, he murmured aloud, "Now, I wonder what -she means by that!" - -"Means," said Crooked Nose. "Don't be an ass, Probably! Don't pretend -to _me_ you don't know what the child means. You made her love you. You -have exercised your arts of fascination on an innocent young girl, and -now you have the nerve to wonder what she means. What'll you give me for -her?" - -"See here, Crooked Nose," said Probably, "don't bluster with me." His -finer sensibilities were outraged. He did not intend to be _coerced_ -into matrimony by any father, even though he were pleased with that -father's daughter. "I'm not buying any wives to-day, Crooked Nose." - -"You have hurt her market value," said Crooked Nose, dropping his -domineering air, and affecting a willingness to reason. "Those marks -on her arms will not come off for weeks. And what man wants to marry a -scarred-up woman unless he has made the scars himself?" - -"Crooked Nose," said Probably Arboreal, angry at the whole world because -what might have been a youthful romance had been given such a sordid -turn by this disgusting father, "if you don't go away I will scar every -daughter you've got in your part of the woods. Do you get me?" - -"I wish you'd look them over," said Crooked Nose. "You might do worse -than marry all of them." - -"I'll marry none of them!" cried Probably, in a rage, and turned to go -into the sea again. - -A heavy boulder hurtled past his head. He whirled about and discovered -Crooked Nose in the act of recovering his balance after having flung -it. He caught the old man half way between the beach and the edge of -the forest. The clan, including Crooked Nose's four daughters, gathered -round in a ring to watch the fight. - -It was not much of a combat. When it was over, and the girls took -hold of what remained of their late parent to drag him into the woods, -Probably Arboreal stepped up to Parrot Feathers and laid his hand upon -her arm. - -"Feathers," he said, "now that there can be no question of coercion, -will you and your sisters marry me?" - -She turned toward him with a sobered face. Grief had turned her from a -girl into a woman. - -"Probably," she said, "you are only making this offer out of generosity. -It is not love that prompts it. I cannot accept. As for my sisters, they -must speak for themselves." - -"You are angry with me, Feathers?" - -The girl turned sadly away. Probably watched the funeral cortge winding -into the woods, and then went moodily back to the ocean. Now that she -had refused him, he desired her above all things. But how to win her? -He saw clearly that it could be no question of brute force. It had gone -beyond that. If he used force with her, it must infallibly remind her of -the unfortunate affair with her father. Some heroic action might attract -her to him again. Probably resolved to be a hero at the very earliest -opportunity. - -In the meantime he would breakfast. Breakfast had already been long -delayed; and it was as true then, far back in the dim dawn of time, as -it is now, that he who does not breakfast at some time during the day -must go hungry to bed at night. Once more Probably Arboreal stepped into -the ocean--stepped in without any premonition that he was to be a hero -indeed; that he was chosen by Fate, by Destiny, by the Presiding Genius -of this planet, by whatever force or intelligence you will, to champion -the cause of all Mankind in a crucial struggle for human supremacy. - -He waded into the water up to his waist, and bent forward with his arms -beneath the surface, patiently waiting. It was thus that our remote -ancestors fished. Fish ran larger in those days, as a rule. In the -deeper waters they were monstrous. The smaller fish therefore sought the -shallows where the big ones, greedy cannibals, could not follow them. A -man seldom stood in the sea as Probably Arboreal was doing more than -ten minutes without a fish brushing against him either accidentally or -because the fish thought the man was something good to eat. As soon as -a fish touched him, the man would grab for it. If he were clumsy and -missed too many fish, he starved to death. Experts survived because they -_were_ expert; by a natural process of weeding out the awkward it had -come about that men were marvellously adept. A bear who stands by the -edge of a river watching for salmon at the time of the year when they -rim up stream to spawn, and scoops them from the water with a deft -twitch of his paw, was not more quick or skillful than Probably -Arboreal. - -Suddenly he pitched forward, struggling; he gave a gurgling shout, and -his head disappeared beneath the water. - -When it came up again, he twisted toward the shore, with lashing arms -and something like panic on his face, and shouted: - -"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he cried. "Something has me by the foot!" - -Twenty or thirty men and women who heard the cry stopped fishing and -straightened up to look at him. - -"Help! Help!" he shouted again. "It is pulling me out to sea!" - -A knock-kneed old veteran, with long intelligent-looking mobile toes, -broke from the surf and scurried to the safety of the beach, raising the -cry: - -"A god! A god! A water-god has caught Probably Arboreal!" - -"More likely a devil!" cried Slightly Simian, who had followed Probably -to the water. - -And all his neighbours plunged to land and left Probably Arboreal to -his fate, whatever his fate was to be. But since spectacles are always -interesting, they sat down comfortably on the beach to see how long it -would be before Probably Arboreal disappeared. Gods and devils, sharks -and octopi, were forever grabbing one of their number and making off to -deep water with him to devour him at their leisure. If the thing that -dragged the man were seen, if it showed itself to be a shark or an -octopus, a shark or an octopus it was; if it were unseen, it got the -credit of being a god or a devil. - -"Help me!" begged Probably Arboreal, who was now holding his own, -although he was not able to pull himself into shallower water. "It is -not a god or a devil. It doesn't feel like one. And it isn't a shark, -because it hasn't any teeth. It is an animal like a cleft stick, and my -foot is in the cleft." - -But they did not help him. Instead, Big Mouth, a seer and _vers libre_ -poet of the day, smitten suddenly with an idea, raised a chant, and -presently all the others joined in. The chant went like this: - - "Probably, he killed Crooked Nose, - - He killed him with his fists. - - And Crooked Nose, he sent his ghost to sea - - To catch his slayer by the foot! - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the seal" - -"You are a liar, Big Mouth!" spluttered Probably Arboreal, hopping on -one foot and thrashing the water with his arms. "It is not a ghost; it -is an animal." - -But the chant kept up, growing louder and louder: - - "The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer! - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the sea!" - -Out of the woods came running more and more people at the noise of the -chant. And as they caught what was going on, they took up the burden of -it, until hundreds and thousands of them were singing it. - -But, with a mighty turn and struggle, Probably Arboreal went under -again, as to his head and body; his feet for an instant swished into the -air, and everyone but Probably Arboreal himself saw what was hanging on -to one of them. - -It was neither ghost, shark, god, nor devil. It was a monstrous oyster; -a bull oyster, evidently. All oysters were much larger in those days -than they are now, but this oyster was a giant, a mastodon, a mammoth -among oysters, even for those days. - -"It is an oyster, an oyster, an oyster!" cried the crowd, as Probably -Arboreal's head and shoulders came out of the water again. - -Big Mouth, the poet, naturally chagrined, and hating to yield up his -dramatic idea, tried to raise another chant: - - "The ghost of Crooked Nose went into an - - oyster, - - The oyster caught his slayer by the foot - - To drown, drown, drown him in the sea!" - -But it didn't work. The world had seen that oyster, and had recognized -it for an oyster. - -"Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!" cried the crowd sternly at Big Mouth. - -The bard tried to persevere, but Slightly Simian, feeling the crowd with -him, advanced menacingly and said: - -"See here, Big Mouth, we know a ghost when we see one, and we know an -oyster! Yon animal is an oyster! You _sing_ that it is an oyster, or -shut up!" - -"_Ghost, ghost, ghost,_" chanted Big Mouth, tentatively. But he got -no farther. Slightly Simian killed him with a club, and the matter was -settled. Literary criticism was direct, straightforward, and effective -in those days. - -"But, oh, ye gods of the water, _what_ an oyster!" cried Mrs. Slightly -Simian. - -And as the thought took them all, a silence fell over the multitude. -They looked at the struggling man in a new community of idea. Oysters -they had seen before, but never an oyster like this. Oysters they knew -not as food; but they had always regarded them as rather ineffectual and -harmless creatures. Yet this bold oyster was actually giving battle, -and on equal terms, to a man! Were oysters henceforth to be added to -the number of man's enemies? Were oysters about to attempt to conquer -mankind? This oyster, was he the champion of the sea, sent up out of its -depths, to grapple with mankind for supremacy? - -Dimly, vaguely, as they watched the man attempt to pull the oyster -ashore, and the oyster attempt to pull the man out to sea, some sense of -the importance of this struggle was felt by mankind. Over forest, beach, -and ocean hung the sense of momentous things. A haze passed across the -face of the bright morning sun; the breeze died down; it was as if all -nature held her breath at this struggle. And if mankind upon the land -was interested, the sea was no less concerned. For, of sudden, and as -if by preconcerted signal, a hundred thousand oysters poked their heads -above the surface of the waters and turned their eyes--they had small -fiery opalescent eyes in those days--upon the combat. - -At this appearance, mankind drew back with a gasp, but no word was -uttered. The visible universe, perturbed earth and bending heavens -alike, was tense and dumb. On their part, the oysters made no attempt -to go to the assistance of their champion. Nor did mankind leap to the -rescue of Probably Arboreal. Tacitly, each side, in a spirit of fair -play, agreed not to interfere; agreed to leave the combat to the -champions; agreed to abide by the issue. - -But while they were stirred and held by the sense of tremendous things -impending, neither men nor oysters could be expected to understand -definitely what almost infinite things depended upon this battle. There -were no Darwins then. Evolution had not yet evolved the individual able -to catch her at it. - -But she was on her way. This very struggle was one of the crucial -moments in the history of evolution. There have always been these -critical periods when the two highest species in the world were about -equal in intelligence, and it was touch and go as to which would survive -and carry on the torch, and which species would lose the lead and become -subservient. There have always been exact instants when the spirit of -progress hesitated as between the forms of life, doubtful as to which -one to make its representative. - -Briefly, if the oyster conquered the man, more and more oysters, -emboldened by this success, would prey upon men. Man, in the course of a -few hundred thousand years, would become the creature of the oyster; -the oyster's slave and food. Then the highest type of life on the planet -would dwell in the sea. The civilization which was not yet would be -a marine growth when it did come; the intellectual and spiritual and -physical supremacy held by the biped would pass over to the bivalve. - -Thought could not frame this concept then; neither shellfish nor -tree-dweller uttered it. But both the species felt it; they watched -Probably Arboreal and the oyster with a strangling emotion, with a -quivering intentness, that was none the less poignant because there was -no Huxley or Spencer present to interpret it for them; they thrilled and -sweat and shivered with the shaken universe, and the red sun through its -haze peered down unwinking like the vast bloodshot eye of life. - -An hour had passed by in silence except for the sound of the battle, -more and more men and more and more oysters had gathered about the scene -of the struggle; the strain was telling on both champions. Probably -Arboreal had succeeded in dragging the beast some ten feet nearer the -shore, but the exertion had told upon him; he was growing tired; he was -breathing with difficulty; he had swallowed a great deal of salt water. -He too was dimly conscious of the importance of this frightful combat; -he felt himself the representative of the human race. He was desperate -but cool; he saved his breath; he opposed to the brute force of the -oyster the cunning of a man. But he was growing weaker; he felt it. - -If only those for whom he was fighting would fling him some word of -encouragement! He was too proud to ask it, but he felt bitterly that -he was not supported, for he could not realize what emotion had smitten -dumb his fellow men. He had got to the place where a word of spiritual -comfort and encouragement would have meant as much as fifty pounds of -weight in his favour. - -He had, in fact, arrived at the Psychological Moment. There were no -professing psychologists then; but there was psychology; and it worked -itself up into moments even as it does to-day. - -Probably Arboreal's head went under the water, tears and salt ocean -mingled nauseatingly in his mouth. - -"I am lost," he gurgled. - -But at that instant a shout went up--the shrill, high cry of a woman. -Even in his agony he recognized that voice--the voice of Parrot -Feathers! With a splendid rally he turned his face toward the shore. - -She was struggling through the crowd, fighting her way to the front -rank with the fury of a wildcat. She had just buried her father, and -the earth was still dark and damp upon her hands, but the magnificent -creature had only one thought now. She thought only of her lover, her -heroic lover; in her nobility of soul she had been able to rise above -the pettiness of spirit which another woman might have felt; she knew no -pique or spite. Her lover was in trouble, and her place was nigh him; so -she flung a false maidenly modesty to the winds and acknowledged him and -cheered him on, careless of what the assembled world might think. - -She arrived at the Psychological Moment. - -"Probably! Probably!" she cried. "Don't give up! Don't give up! For my -sake!" - -For her sake! The words were like fire in the veins of the struggling -hero. He made another bursting effort, and gained a yard. But the rally -had weakened him; the next instant his head went under the water once -more. Would it ever appear again? There was a long, long moment, while -all mankind strangled and gasped in sympathetic unison, and then our -hero's dripping head did emerge. It had hit a stone under water, and it -was bleeding, but it emerged. One eye was nearly closed. 4 + - -"Watch him! Watch him!" shouted Parrot Feathers. "Don't let him do that -again! When he has you under water he whacks your eye with his tail. -He's trying to blind you!" - -And, indeed, these seemed to be the desperate oyster's tactics. If he -could once destroy our hero's sight, the end would soon come. - -"Probably--do you hear me?" - -He nodded his head; he was beyond speech. - -"Take a long breath and dive! Do you get me? Dive! Dive at your own -feet! Grab your feet in your hands and roll under water in a bunch! Roll -toward the beach!"' - -It was a desperate manouvre, especially for a man who had already been -under water so much that morning. But the situation was critical and -called for the taking of big chances. It would either succeed--or fail. -And death was no surer if it failed than if he waited. Probably Arboreal -ceased to think; he yielded up his reasoning powers to the noble and -courageous woman on the sand; he dived and grabbed his feet and rolled. - -"Again! Again!" she cried. "Another long breath and roll again!" - -Her bosom heaved, as if she were actually breathing for him. To Probably -Arboreal, now all but drowned, and almost impervious to feeling, it also -seemed as if he were breathing with her lungs; and yet he hardly dared -to dive and roll again. He struggled in the water and stared at her -stupidly. - -She sent her unusual and electric personality thrilling into him across -the intervening distance; she held him with her eyes, and filled him -with her spirit. - -"Roll!" she commanded. "Probably! Roll!" - -And under the lash of her courage, he rolled again. Three more times he -rolled... and then... unconscious, but still breathing, he was in her -arms. - -As he reached the land half a million oysters sank into the sea in the -silence of defeat and despair, while from the beaches rose a mighty -shout. - -The sun, as if it gestured, flung the mists from its face, and beamed -benignly. - -"Back! Back! Give him air!" cried Parrot Feathers, as she addressed -herself to the task of removing the oyster from his foot. - -The giant beast was dying, and its jaws were locked in the rigour of its -suffering. There was no way to remove it gently. Parrot Feathers laid -her unconscious hero's foot upon one rock, and broke the oyster loose -with another. - -Incidentally she smashed Probably Arboreal's toe. - -He sat up in pained surprise. Unthinkingly, as you or I would put a hurt -finger into our mouths, he put his crushed toe into his mouth. At that -period of man's history the trick was not difficult. And then---- - -A beatific smile spread over his face! - -Man had tasted the oyster! - -In half an hour, mankind was plunging into the waves searching for -oysters. The oyster's doom was sealed. His monstrous pretension that he -belonged in the van of evolutionary progress was killed forever. He had -been tasted, and found food. He would never again battle for supremacy. -Meekly he yielded to his fate. He is food to this day. - -Parrot Feathers and Probably Arboreal were married after breakfast. -On the toes of their first child were ten cunning, diminutive oyster -shells. Mankind, up to that time, had had sharp toenails like the -claws of birds. But the flat, shell-like toenails, the symbols of man's -triumph over, and trampling down of, the oyster were inherited from the -children of this happy couple. - -They persist to this day. - - - - -"IF WE COULD ONLY SEE" - - -I - -Lunch finished, Mr. Ferdinand Wimple, the poet, sullenly removed his -coat and sulkily carried the dishes to the kitchen sink. He swore in a -melodious murmur, as a cat purrs, as he turned the hot water on to the -plates, and he splashed profanely with a wet dishcloth. - -"I'm going to do the dishes to-day, Ferd," announced his wife, -pleasantly enough. She was a not unpleasant-looking woman; she gave -the impression that she might, indeed, be a distinctly pleasant-looking -woman, if she could avoid seeming hurried. She would have been a pretty -woman, in fact, if she had been able to give the time to it. - -When she said that she would do the dishes herself, Mr. Wimple -immediately let the dishcloth drop without another word, profane or -otherwise, and began to dry his hands, preparatory to putting on his -coat again. But she continued: - -"I want you to do the twins' wash." - -"What?" cried Mr. Wimple, outraged. He ran one of his plump hands -through his thick tawny hair and stared at his wife with latent hatred -in his brown eyes... those eyes of which so many women had remarked: -"Aren't Mr. Wimple's eyes wonderful; just simply _wonderful!_ So -magnetic, if you get what I mean!" Mr. Wimple's head, by many of his -female admirers, was spoken of as "leonine." His detractors--for who has -them not?--dwelt rather upon the physical reminder of Mr.'Wimple, which -was more suggestive of the ox. - -"I said I wanted you to do the twins' wash for me," repeated Mrs. -Wimple, awed neither by the lion's visage nor the bovine torso. Mrs. -Wimple's own hair was red; and in a quietly red-haired sort of way she -looked as if she expected her words to be heeded. - -"H----!" said the poet, in a round baritone which enriched the ear as -if a harpist had plucked the lovely string of G. "H----!" But there was -more music than resolution in the sound. It floated somewhat tentatively -upon the air. Mr. Wimple was not in revolt. He was wondering if he had -the courage to revolt. - -Mrs. Wimple lifted the cover of the laundry tub, which stood beside the -sink, threw in the babies' "things," turned on the hot water, and said: - -"Better shave some laundry soap and throw it in, Ferd." - -"Heavens!" declared Mr. Wimple. "To expect a man of my temperament to do -that!" But still he did not say that he would not do it. - -"Someone has to do it," contributed his wife. - -"I never kicked on the dishes, Nell," said Mr. Wimple. "But this, _this_ -is too much!" - -"I have been doing it for ten days, ever since the maid left. I'm -feeling rotten to-day, and you can take a turn at it, Ferd. My back -hurts." Still Mrs. Wimple was not unpleasant; but she was obviously -determined. - -"Your back!" sang Mr. Wimple, the minstrel, and shook his mane. "Your -_back_ hurts you! My _soul_ hurts _me!_ How could I go direct from -that--that damnable occupation--that most repulsive of domestic -occupations--that bourgeois occupation--to Mrs. Watson's tea this -afternoon and deliver my message?" - -A shimmer of heat (perhaps from her hair) suddenly dried up whatever dew -of pleasantness remained in Mrs. Wimple's manner. "They're just as much -your twins as they are mine," she began... but just then one of them -cried. - -A fraction of a second later the other one cried. - -Mrs. Wimple hurried from the kitchen and reached the living room in time -to prevent mayhem. The twins, aged one year, were painfully entangled -with one another on the floor. The twin Ronald had conceived the idea -that perhaps the twin Dugald's thumb was edible, and was testing five or -six of his newly acquired teeth upon it. Childe Dugald had been inspired -by his daemon with the notion that one of Childe Ronald's ears might be -detachable, and was endeavouring to detach it. The situation was but too -evidently distressing to both of them, but neither seemed capable of the -mental initiative necessary to end it. Even when little Ronald opened -his mouth to scream, little Dugald did not remove the thumb. - -Mrs. Wimple unscrambled them, wiped their noses, gave them rattles, -rubber dolls, and goats to wreak themselves upon, and returned to the -kitchen thinking (for she did not lack her humorous gleams) that the -situation in the living room bore a certain resemblance to the situation -in the kitchen. She and Ferdinand bit and scratched figuratively, but -they had not the initiative to break loose from one another. - -Mr. Wimple was shaving soap into the laundry tub, but he stopped when -she entered and sang at her: "And _why_ did the maid leave?" - -"You know why she left, Ferd." - -"She left," chanted Ferdinand, poking the twins' clothing viciously with -a wooden paddle, "because..." But what Mr. Wimple said, and the way he -said it, falls naturally into the freer sort of verse: - - "She left [sang Mr. Wimple] - - Because her discontent... - - Her individual discontent, - - Which is a part of the current general discontent - - Of all the labouring classes... - - Was constantly aggravated - - By your jarring personality, - - Mrs. Wimple! - - There is no harmony in this house, - - Mrs. Wimple; - - No harmony!" - -Mrs. Wimple replied in sordid prose: - -"She left because she was offered more money elsewhere, and we couldn't -afford to meet the difference." Something like a sob vibrated through -Mr. Wimple's opulent voice as he rejoined: - -"Nellie, that is a blow that I did not look for! You have stabbed me -with a poisoned weapon! Yes, Nellie, I _am_ poor! So was Edgar Poe. What -the world calls poor! I shall, in all likelihood, never be rich... what -the world calls rich. But I have my art! I have my ideals! I have my -inner life! I have my dreams! Poor? Poor? Yes, Nell! Poor! So was Robert -Burns! I am poor! I make no compromise with the mob. Nor shall I ever -debase my gift for money. No! Such as I am, I shall bear the torch that -has been intrusted to me till I fall fainting at the goal! I have a -message. To me it is precious stuff, and I shall not alloy it with the -dross called gold. Poor? Yes, Nell! And you have the heart to cast it -in my teeth! You, Nellie! You, from whom I once expected sympathy and -understanding. You, whom I chose from all the world, and took into my -life because I fancied that you, too, saw the vision! Yes, Elinor, I -dreamed _that_ once!" - - -II - -Mr. Wimple achieved pathos... almost tragedy. To a trivial mind, -however, the effect might have been somewhat spoiled by the fact that -in his fervour he gesticulated wildly with the wooden paddle in one -hand and an undergarment belonging to Ronald in the other. The truly -sensitive soul would have seen these things as emphasizing his pathos. - -Mrs. Wimple, when Mr. Wimple became lyric in his utterance, often had -the perverse impulse to answer him in a slangy vernacular which, if -not actually coarse, was not, on the other hand, the dialect of the -aesthete. For some months now, she had noticed, whenever Ferdinand took -out his soul and petted it verbally, she had had the desire to lacerate -it with uncouth parts of speech. Ordinarily she frowned on slang; but -when Ferdinand's soul leaped into the arena she found slang a weapon -strangely facile to her clutch. - -"Coming down to brass tacks on this money thing, Ferdy," said Mrs. -Wimple, "you're not the downy peach you picture in the ads. I'll tell -the world you're not! You kid yourself, Ferdy. Some of your bloom has -been removed, Ferdy. Don't go so far upstage when you speak to me about -the dross the world calls gold. The reason we can't afford a maid now -is because you got swell-headed and kicked over that perfectly good -magazine job you used to have. You thought you were going to get more -limelight and more money on the lecture platform. But you've been a -flivver in the big time. Your message sounds better to a flock of women -in somebody's sitting room full of shaded candles and samovars, with -firelight on the antique junk, than it does in Carnegie Hall. You've got -the voice for the big spaces all right, but the multitude doesn't -get any loaves and fishes from you. Punk sticks and _nuances_ ---the _intime_ stuff--that's your speed, Ferdy. I don't want to put any -useless dents into your bean, but that message of yours has been hinted -at by other messengers. 1 stick around home here and take care of the -kids, and I've never let out a yell before. And you trot around to your -soul fights and tea fests and feed your message to a bunch of dolled-up -dames that don't even know you have a wife. I'm not jealous... you -couldn't drag me into one of those perfumed literary dives by the hair -... I got fed up with that stuff years ago. But as long as we're without -a maid because you won't stick to a steady job, you'll do your share of -the rough stuff around the house. I'll say you will! You used to be a -good sport about that sort of thing, Ferdy, but it looks to me as if -you were getting spoiled rotten. You've had a rush of soul to the mouth, -Ferdy. Those talcum-powder seances of yours have gone to your head. You -take those orgies of refinement too seriously. You begin to look to me -like you had a streak of yellow in you, Ferdy... and if I ever see -it so plain I'm sure of it, I'll leave you flat. I'll quit you, Ferdy, -twins and all." - -"Quit, then!" cried Mr. Wimple. - -And then the harplike voice burst into song again, an offering rich with -rage: - - "Woman! - - So help me all the gods, - - I'm through! - - Twins or no twins, - - Elinor Wimple, - - I'm through! - - By all the gods, - - I'll never wash another dish, - - Nor yet another set of underwear!" - -And Mr. Wimple, in his heat, brought down the wooden paddle upon the -pile of dishes in the sink, in front of his wife. The crash of the -broken china seemed to augment his rage, rather than relieve it, and he -raised the paddle for a second blow. - -"Ferd!" cried his wife, and caught at the stick. - -Mr. Wimple, the aesthete, grabbed her by the arm and strove to loosen -her grasp upon the paddle. - -"You're bruising my arm!" she cried. But she did not release the stick. -Neither did Ferdinand release her wrist. Perhaps he twisted it all the -harder because she struggled, and was not conscious that he was doing -so... perhaps he twisted it harder quite consciously. At any rate, she -suddenly swung upon him, with her free hand, and slapped him across the -face with her wet dishcloth. - -At that they started apart, both more than a little appalled to realize -that they had been engaged in something resembling a fight. - -Without another word the bird of song withdrew to smooth his ruffled -plumage. He dressed himself carefully, and left the apartment without -speaking to his wife again. He felt that he had not had altogether the -best of the argument. There was no taste of soap in his mouth, for -he had washed his lips and even brushed his teeth... and yet, -psychically, as he might have said himself, he still tasted that -dishcloth. - -But he had not walked far before some of his complacence returned. He -removed his hat and ran his fingers through his interesting hair, and -began to murmur lyrically: - - "By Jove! - - I have a way with women! - - There must be something of the Cave Man in me - - Yes, something of the primeval!" - -In his pocket was a little book of his own poems, bound in green and -gold. As he had remarked to Mrs. Wimple, he was to deliver his message -that afternoon. - - -III - -Mrs. Watson's apartment (to which Ferdinand betook himself after idling -a couple of hours at his club) was toward the top of a tall building -which overlooked great fields of city. It was but three blocks distant -from Ferdinand's own humbler apartment, in uptown New York, but it was -large, and... well, Mr. - -Wimple calculated, harbouring the sordid thought for an instant, that -the rent must cost her seven or eight, thousand dollars a year. - -Mrs. Watson's life was delicately scented with an attar of expense. She -would not drench her rooms or her existence with wealth, any more than -she would spill perfume upon her garments with a careless hand. But the -sensitive' nostrils of the aesthetic Mr. Wimple quivered in reaction to -the aroma. For a person who despised gold, as Mr. Wimple professed to -despise it, he was strangely unrepelled. Perhaps he thought it to be his -spiritual duty to purify this atmosphere with his message. - -There were eighteen or twenty women there when Ferdinand arrived, and -no man... except a weakeyed captive husband or two, and an epicene -creature with a violin, if you want to call them men. Ferdinand, -with his bovine body and his leonine head, seemed almost startlingly -masculine in this assemblage, and felt so. His spirit, he had often -confessed, was an instrument that vibrated best in unison with the -subtle feminine soul; he felt it play upon him and woo him, with little -winds that ran their fingers through his hair. These were women who had -no occupation, and a number of them had money; they felt delightfully -cultivated when persons such as Ferdinand talked to them about the Soul. -They warmed, they expanded, half unconsciously they projected those -breaths and breezes which thrilled our Ferdinand and wrought upon his -mood. If a woman, idle and mature, cannot find romance anywhere else or -anyhow other she will pick upon a preacher or an artist. - -Mrs. Watson collected Ferdinands. Just how seriously she took them--how -she regarded himself, specifically--Mr. Wimple could not be quite -certain. - -"She is a woman of mystery," Mr. Wimple often murmured to himself. And -he wondered a good deal about her... sometimes he wondered if she were -not in love with him. - -He had once written to her, a poem, which he entitled "Mystery." She -had let him see that she understood it, but she had not vouchsafed a -solution of herself. It might be possible, Ferdinand thought, that she -did _not_ love him... but she sympathized with him; she appreciated -him; she had even fallen into a dreamy sadness one day, at the thought -of how he must suffer from the disharmony in his home. For somehow, -without much having been said by one or by the other, the knowledge had -passed from Ferdinand to Mrs. Watson that there was not harmony in his -home. She had understood. They had looked at each other, and she had -understood. - -"Alethea!" he had murmured, under his breath. Alethea was her name. He -was sure she had heard it; but she had neither accepted it from him, nor -rejected it. And he had gone away without quite daring to say it again -in a louder tone. - -There was only one thing about her that sometimes jarred upon Mr. -Wimple... a sudden vein of levity. Sometimes Ferdinand, in his thoughts, -even accused her of irony. And he was vaguely distrustful of a sense -of the humorous in women; whether it took the form of a feeling for -nonsense or a talent for sarcasm, it worried him. - -But she understood. She always understood... him and his message. - -And this afternoon she seemed to be understanding him, to be absorbing -him and his message, with an increased sensitiveness. She regarded him -with a new intentness, he thought; she was taking him with an expanded -spiritual capacity. - -It was after the music, and what a creature overladen with "art jewelry" -called "the eats," harrowing Ferdinand with the vulgar word, that he -delivered his message, sitting not far from Mrs. Watson in the carefully -graduated light. - -It was, upon the whole, a cheerful message, Ferdinand's. It was... -succinctly... Love. - -Ferdinand was not pessimistic or cynical about Love. It was all around -us, he thought, if we could only see it, could only feel it, could only -open our beings for its reception. - -"If we could only see into the hearts! If we could only see into the -homes!" said Ferdinand. If we could only see, it was Ferdinand's belief, -we should see Love there, unexpected treasures of Love, waiting dormant -for the arousing touch; slumbering, as Endymion slumbered, until Diana's -kiss awakened him. - -"Mush!" muttered one of the captive husbands to the young violinist. -But the young violinist scowled; he was in accord with Ferdinand. "Mush, -slush, and gush!" whispered the first captive husband to the second -captive husband. But captive husband number two only nodded and grinned -in an idiotic way; he was lucky enough to be quite deaf, and no matter -where his wife took him he could sit and think of his Liberty Bonds, -without being bothered by the lion of the hour.... - -The world, Ferdinand went on, was trembling on the verge of a great -spiritual awakening. The Millennium was about to stoop and kiss it, as -Morning kissed the mountain tops. It was coming soon. Already the first -faint streaks of the new dawn were in the orient sky... for eyes that -could see them. Ah, if one could only see! In more and more bosoms, the -world around, Love was becoming conscious of itself, Love was beginning -to understand that there was love in other bosoms, too! At this point, -at least a dozen bosoms, among those bosoms present, heaved with sighs. -Heart was reaching out to Heart in a new confidence, Ferdinand said. -One knew what was in one's own heart; but hitherto one had often been so -blind that one did not realize that the same thing was in the hearts of -one's fellows. Ah, if one could only see! - -Maeterlinck saw, Ferdinand said. - -"Ah, Maeterlinck!" whispered the bosoms. - -Yes, Maeterlinck saw, said Ferdinand. Nietzsche, said Ferdinand, had -possessed a bosom full of yearning for all humanity, but he had been -driven back upon himself and embittered by the world... by the German -world in which he lived, said Ferdinand. So Nietzsche's strength had -little sweetness in it, and Nietzsche had not lived to see the new light -in the orient sky. - -"Ah, Nietzsche!" moaned several sympathetic bosoms. - -Bergson knew, Ferdinand opined. Several of the women present did not -quite catch the connection between Bergson and Ferdinand's message, but -they assumed that everyone else caught it. Bergson's was a name they -knew and... and in a moment Ferdinand was on more familiar ground -again. Tagore knew, said Ferdinand. - -"Ah, Rabindranath Tagore!" And the bosoms fluttered as doves flutter -when they coo and settle upon the eaves. Love! That was Ferdinand's -message. And it appeared from the remarks with which he introduced and -interspersed his own poems, that all the really brilliant men of the day -were thinking in harmony with Ferdinand. He had the gift of introducing -a celebrated name every now and then in such a manner that these women, -who were at least familiar with the names, actually felt that they were -also familiar with the work for which the names stood. And, for his -part, he was repaid, this afternoon, as he had never been repaid before -... never before had he been so wrought upon and electrically vivified -as to-day by these emanations of the feminine soul; never before had he -felt these little winds run their fingers through his hair with such -a caressing touch. Once or twice the poignancy of the sensation almost -unsteadied him for an instant. And never before had Mrs. Watson regarded -him with such singular intentness. - -Love! That was Ferdinand's message! And, ah! if one could only see! - -When the others were going, Mrs. Watson asked him to stay a while, and -Ferdinand stayed. She led him to a little sitting room, high above the -town, and stood by the window. And he stood beside her. - -"Your message this afternoon," she said, presently, "I enjoyed more than -anything I have ever heard you say before. If we could only see! If we -could only see!" - -Mrs. Watson lifted her blue eyes to him... and for an instant Ferdinand -felt that she was more the woman of mystery than ever. For there lurked -within the eyes an equivocal ripple of light; an unsteady glint that -came and went. Had it not been for her words, Ferdinand might have -feared that she was about to break into one of her disconcerting -ebullitions of levity. But he perceived in her, at the same time, a -certain tension, an unusual strain, and was reassured... she was a -little strange, perhaps, because of his near presence. She was reacting -to the magnetism which was flowing out of him in great waves, and she -was striving to conceal from him her psychic excitement. That would -account for any strangeness in her manner, any constraint. - -"If we could only see!" she repeated. - -"_You_ always see," hazarded Ferdinand. - -"I sometimes see," said Mrs. Watson. "I have sometimes seen more than it -was intended for me to see." - -What could she mean by that? Ferdinand asked himself. And for an instant -he was unpleasantly conscious again of the something ambiguous in her -mood. Suddenly she turned and switched on the electric light in the -room, and then went and stood by the window again. Ferdinand's psychic -feathers were a trifle rumpled by the action. It was growing dusk... -but he would have liked to talk to her in the twilight, looking out over -the roofs. - -"If we could only see into the hearts ... into the homes," she mused -yet again. - -"If you could see into my heart now ... Alethea..." - -He left the sentence unfinished. She did not look at him. She turned her -face so he could not see it. - -He tried to take her hand. But she avoided that, without actually -moving, without giving ground... as a boxer in the ring may escape the -full effect of a blow he does not parry by shrugging it off, without -retreating. - -After a moment's silence she said: "Ferdinand..." and paused.... - -He felt sure of her, then. He drew a long breath. He wished they were -not standing by that window, framed in it, with the lighted room behind -them... but since she _would_ stand there... anyhow, now was the -time.... - -And then he heard himself pleading with her, eloquently, fervently. She -was his ideal! She was... he hated the word "affinity," because it -had been cheapened and vulgarized by gross contacts... but she _was_ his -affinity. They were made for one another. It was predestined that they -should meet and love. She was what he needed to complete him, to fulfill -him. They would go forth together... not into the world, but away from -it... they would dwell upon the heights, and... and... so forth. - -Ferdinand, as he pleaded, perhaps thought nothing consciously of the -fact that she must be spending money at the rate of fifty or sixty -thousand dollars a year. But, nevertheless, that subconscious mind of -his, of which he had so often spoken, that subliminal self, must have -been considering the figures, for suddenly there flashed before his -inner eye the result of a mathematical calculation..._ fifty thousand -dollars a year is the interest on one million dollars at five per cent_. -Ah, that would make his dreams possible! How his service to the human -race might be increased in value if all his time could be but given to -carrying his message! Farewell to the sordid struggle for bread! And in -the poetic depths of him there moved, unuttered, a phrase which he had -spoken aloud earlier in the day: _"I shall never wash another dish, nor -yet another undergarment_." This secondary line of thought, however, did -not interfere with the lyric passion of his speech. - -"You are asking me to... to... _elope_ with you!" - -She still drooped her head, but she let him feel her nearness. He -wished--how he wished!--that they were away from that window. But he -would not break the spell by suggesting that they move. Perhaps he could -not reestablish it. - -"Elope?" Ferdinand critically considered the word. - -"I want you to come away with me, Alethea, into Paradise. I want you to -help me rediscover Eden! I want you! I want you!" - -"But... your family?" she murmured. - -He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. "That episode, -that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended," said -Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand. - -"Ah! Ended?" said Mrs. Watson. "You are no longer living with your -wife? The marriage is dissolved?" Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been -dissolved for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had -never taken the trouble to inquire. - -"In the spiritual sense--and that is all that counts--dissolved," said -Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: "To-day." - -Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and -put her head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried -"Victory!" he was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to -take her in his arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. -He stood in perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he -heard muffled sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, -or... - -No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What? - -Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her -laughter. - -"Excuse me," said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in -her eyes, "but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to -tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had -better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can -never touch anything but the interest, you know." - -"Alethea," said Ferdinand, chokingly, "such a thought at a time like -this is unworthy of both of us!" And he advanced toward her again. But -she stopped him. - -"Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I -wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do -our own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my -arm until I howled!" - -As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of -vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a -chair. - -"Get up!" said Mrs. Watson, with a cold little silver tinkle of a laugh. -"I didn't ask you to sit down!" - -Ferdinand got up. - -"I don't spy on my neighbours as a rule," continued Mrs. Watson, "but -a little after noon to-day I happened to be standing by this window -looking out over the town, and this pair of opera glasses happened to be -on the table there and... well, take them, you oaf! You fat fool! And -look at that window, down there! It's your own kitchen window!" - -Ferdinand took them and looked... he was crushed and speechless, and he -obeyed mechanically. - -He dropped the glasses with a gasp. He had not only seen into his own -kitchen window, lighted as this one was, but he had seen Nell there... -and, as perverse fate would have it, some whim had inspired Nell to take -her own opera glasses and look out over the city. She was standing there -with them now. Had she seen him a moment before, with Mrs. Watson's head -upon his shoulder? - -He started out. - -"Wait a moment," said Mrs. Watson. Ferdinand stopped. He still seemed -oddly without volition. It reminded him of what he had heard about -certain men suffering from shell shock. - -"There... I wanted to do that before you went," said Mrs. Watson, and -slapped him across the face. And Ferdinand's soul registered once more -the flavour of a damp dishcloth. "It's the second time a woman has -slapped you to-day," said Mrs. Watson. "Try and finish the rest of the -day without getting a third one. You can go now." - -Ferdinand went. He reached the street, and walked several blocks in -silence. Neither his voice nor his assurance seemed to be inclined to -return to him speedily. His voice came back first, with a little of his -complacence, after fifteen or twenty minutes. And: - -"Hell!" said Ferdinand, in his rich, harplike voice, running his fingers -through his tawny hair. "Hell!" - - - - -HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE - - -_AUTHOR'S NOTE--Another version of this story appeared in a book -entitled "Danny's Own Story," published in 1912 by Doubleday, Page & -Co._ - - -I'm not so sure about Prohibition and pledges and such things holding -back a man that has got the liquor idea in his head. If meanness is in -a man, it usually stays in him, in spite of all the pledges he signs and -the promises he makes. - -About the meanest man I ever knew was Hank Walters, a blacksmith in a -little town in Illinois, the meanest and the whiskey-drinkingest. And I -had a chance to know him well, for he and his wife Elmira brought me up. -Somebody left me on their doorstep in a basket when I was a baby, and -they took me in and raised me. I reckon they took me in so they could -quarrel about me. They'd lived together a good many years and quarrelled -about everything else under the sun, and were running out of topics to -row over. A new topic of dissension sort of briskened things up for a -while. - -Not having any kids of his own to lick, Hank lambasted me when he was -drunk and whaled me when he was sober. It was a change from licking -his wife, I suppose. A man like Hank has just naturally got to have -something he can cuss around and boss, so as to keep himself from -finding out he don't amount to anything... although he must have known -he didn't, too, way down deep in his inmost gizzards. - -So I was unhappy when I was a kid, but not knowing anything else I never -found out exactly how unhappy I was. There were worse places to live -in than that little town, and there was one thing in our house that I -always admired when I was a kid. That was a big cistern. Most people -had their cisterns outside their houses, but ours was right in under our -kitchen floor, and there was a trap door with leather hinges opened into -it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so proud of it. -It was because the cistern was full of fish--bullheads and redhorse and -sunfish and pickerel. - -Hank's father built the cistern. And one time he brought home some live -fish in a bucket and dumped them in there. And they grew. And multiplied -and refurnished the earth, as the Good Book says. That cistern full of -fish had got to be a family custom. It was a comfort to Hank, for all -the Walterses were great fish eaters, though it never went to brains -any. We fed 'em now and then, and threw the little ones back in until -they were grown, and kept the dead ones picked out as soon as we smelled -anything wrong, and it never hurt the water any; and when I was a kid I -wouldn't have taken anything for living in a house like that. - -One time when I was a kid about six years old Hank came home drunk from -Bill Nolan's barroom, and got to chasing Elmira's cat, because he said -it was making faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. -Elmira wasn't at home, and I was scared. Elmira had always told me not -to fool around that cistern door any when I was a kid, for if I fell in -there, she said, I'd be a corpse, quicker'n scatt. - -So when Hank fell in and I heard him splash, being such a little fellow -and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I supposed -that Hank was probably a corpse already. I slammed the door shut over -the cistern without looking in, for I heard Hank flopping around down -there. I hadn't ever heard a corpse flop before and didn't know but -what it might be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take any -chances. - -I went out and played in the front yard and waited for Elmira. But -I couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, or -anything. I kept thinking of Hank being a corpse down in that cistern. -And maybe that corpse is going to come flopping out pretty soon, I -thought to myself, and lick me in some new and unusual way. I hadn't -ever been licked by a corpse. Being young and innocent, I didn't rightly -know what a corpse is, except I had the idea there was something about a -corpse that kept them from being popular. - -So after a while I sneaked back into the house and set all the flatirons -on top of the cistern lid. I heard some flopping and splashing and -fluttering, as if that corpse was trying to jump up and was falling back -into the water, and I heard Hank's voice, and got scareder and scareder. -When Elmira came along down the road she saw me by the gate crying and -blubbering, and she asked me why. - -"Hank is a corpse!" says I. - -"A corpse!" says Elmira, dropping the pound of coffee she was carrying -home from the general store and post-office. "Danny, what do you mean?" - -I saw then I was to blame somehow, and I wished I hadn't said anything -about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say anything -more. So when she grabbed hold of me and asked me again what I meant I -blubbered harder, as a kid will, and said nothing. I wished I hadn't set -those flatirons on the cistern lid, for it came to me all at once that -even if Hank had turned into a corpse I hadn't any right to keep him in -the cistern. - -Just then old Mis' Rogers, one of our neighbours, came by, while Elmira -was shaking me and yelling at me and asking how it happened, and had I -seen it, and where was Hank's corpse. - -"What's Danny been doing now?" asked Mis' Rogers--me being always up to -something. - -Elmira turned and saw her and gave a whoop and hollered out: "Hank is -dead!" And she threw her apron over her head and sat right down in -the path and boo-hooed like a baby. And I bellered and howled all the -louder. - -Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ask anything more. She saw she had -a piece of news, and she wanted to be the first to spread it. She ran -right across the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, -she saw her coming and unhooked the screen door and Mis' Rogers hollered -out before she reached the porch: "Hank Walters is dead!" - -And then she went footing it up the street. There was a black plume on -her bonnet, nodding the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of -seven front yards in less than five minutes. - -Mis' Alexander she ran across the road to where we were, and kneeled -down and put her arm around Elmira, who was still rocking back and forth -in the path, and she said: - -"How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I saw him not more than an hour -ago." - -"Danny saw it all," says Elmira. - -Mis' Alexander turned to me and wanted to know what happened and how it -happened and where it happened. But I didn't want to say anything about -that cistern. So I busted out crying all over again and I said: "He was -drunk and he came home drunk and he did it then, and that's how he did -it." - -"And you saw him?" she asked. - -I nodded. - -"Where is he?" says she and Elmira, both together. - -But I was scared to say anything about that cistern, so I just bawled -some more. - -"Was it in the blacksmith shop?" asks Mis' Alexander. - -I nodded my head again, and let it go at that. - -"Is he in there now?" she wants to know. - -I nodded again. I hadn't meant to give out any untrue stories. But a kid -will always lie, not meaning particular to lie, if you sort of invite -him with questions like that, and get him scared by the way you're -acting. Besides, I says to myself, so long as Hank has turned into a -corpse, and being a corpse makes him dead, what's the difference whether -he's in the blacksmith shop or in the cistern? I hadn't had any plain -idea before that being a corpse meant the same thing as being dead. And -I wasn't any too sure what being dead was like, either. Except I -knew they had funerals over you then. I knew being a corpse must be a -disadvantage from the way that Elmira has always said to keep away from -that cistern, or I'd be one. And I began to see the whole thing was more -important even than I had figured it was at first. I wondered if there'd -be a funeral at our house. If there was one, that would be fine. They -didn't have them every day in our town, and we hadn't ever had one of -our own. - -Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis' -Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a-tagging along behind holding -on to Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all -those women that Mis' Rogers had told came filing into the house, one -at a time, looking sad and mournful. Only old Mis' Primrose, she was a -little late getting there, because she stopped to put on the dress she -always wore to funerals, with the black Paris lace on to it that her -cousin Arminty White had sent her from Chicago. - -When they found out that Hank had come home with liquor in him and done -it himself they were all excited and they all crowded around and asked -me questions, except two that were holding Elmira's hands where she sat -moaning in a chair. And those questions scared me and egged me on to -lies I hadn't had any idea of telling. - -Says one woman: "Danny, you saw him do it in the blacksmith shop?" - -I nodded. - -"But how did he get in?" says another one. "The door was locked on the -outside with a padlock just now when I came by. He couldn't have killed -himself in there and then locked the door on the outside." - -I didn't see how he could have done that myself, so I began to bawl -again and said nothing at all. - -"He must have crawled into the shop through that little side window," -says Mis' Primrose. "That window was open when I came by, even if the -door was locked. Did you see him crawl through the little side window, -Danny?" - -I nodded. There wasn't anything else I could think of to do. - -"But you aren't tall enough to look through that window;" sings out Mis' -Rogers. "How could you see into the shop, Danny?" - -I didn't know, so I didn't say anything at all; I just sniffled. - -"There's a store box right in under the window," says another one. -"Danny must have climbed on to that store box and looked in after he saw -Hank crawl through the window. Did you scramble on to the store box and -look in, Danny?" - -I just nodded again. - -"And what was it you saw him do? How did he kill himself?" they all -asked together. - -I didn't know. So I just bellered and boo-hooed some more. Things were -getting past anything I could see the way out of. - -"He might have hung himself to one of the iron rings in the joists above -the forge," says another woman. - -"He climbed on to the forge and tied the rope to one of those rings, and -tied the other end around his neck, and then he stepped off the forge -and swung. Was that how he did it, Danny?" - -I nodded. And I bellered louder than ever. I knew that Hank was down in -that cistern below the kitchen, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all -this time; but those women kind of got me to thinking he was hanging out -in the blacksmith shop by the forge, too. - -Pretty soon one woman says, shivery: "I wouldn't want to have the job of -opening the door of the blacksmith shop the first one!" - -And they all shivered, and looked at Elmira, and says to let some of -the men open that door. And Mis' Alexander says she'll run and get her -husband and make him do it. And all the time Elmira sits moaning in that -chair. One woman says Elmira ought to have a cup of tea, and she'll lay -off her bonnet and go to the kitchen and make it for her. But Elmira -says no, she can't a-bear to think of tea, with poor Hennery hanging out -there in the shop. But she was kind of enjoying all that fuss being made -over her, too. And all the other women said: "Poor thing!" But most of -them were mad because she said she didn't want any tea, for they wanted -some and didn't feel free to take it without she took some. They coaxed -her and made her see that it was her duty, and she said she'd have some -finally. - -So they all went out to the kitchen, taking along some of the best room -chairs, Elmira coming, too, and me tagging along. The first thing they -noticed was those flatirons on top of the cistern lid. Mis' Primrose -says that looks funny. But Mis' Rogers says Danny must have been playing -with them. "Were you playing they were horses, Danny?" - -I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I nodded. I -couldn't see any use hurrying things up. I was bound to get a licking -pretty soon anyhow. I could always bet on that. So they picked up the -flatirons, and as they picked them up there came a splashing noise in -the cistern. I thought to myself that Hank's corpse would be out of -there in a minute, and then I'd catch it. One woman says: "Sakes alive! -What's that noise?" - -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish and it must be some of the -biggest ones flopping around. If they hadn't been worked up and excited -and talking all together and thinking of Hank hanging out in the -blacksmith shop they might have suspicioned something, for that flopping -and splashing kept up steady. Maybe I should have mentioned sooner it -had been a dry summer and there was only three or four feet of water in -the cistern and Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. When -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish that woman opens the trap door -and looks in. Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out, he says -afterward. And he allows he'll keep quiet in there and make believe he -is drowned and give her a good scare and make her feel sorry for him. - -But when the cistern door was opened he heard a lot of clacking tongues -like a hen convention, and he allowed she had told the neighbours, and -he'd scare them, too. So he laid low. And the woman that looked in, she -sees nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale -that swallowed Jonah. But she left the door open and went on making tea, -and there wasn't scarcely a sound from that cistern, only little ripply -noises like it might have been fish. Pretty soon Mis' Rogers says: - -"It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?" Elmira kicked some more, -but she took hers. And each woman took hers. And one woman, a-sipping of -hers, she says: - -"The departed had his good points, Elmira." - -Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town for years -and years. - -Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no -matter what come of it, and she ups and says: "I don't believe in any -hypocritics at a time like this, any more'n any other time. The departed -wasn't any good, and the whole town knows it, and Elmira ought to feel -like it's good riddance of bad rubbish, and such is my sentiments and -the sentiments of truth and righteousness." - -All the other women sings out: "W'y, Mis' Primrose, I never!" But down -in underneath more of 'em agreed than let on to. Elmira she wiped her -eyes and says: - -"Hennery and me had our troubles, there ain't any use denying that, Mis' -Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. And -the whole town knows he has lifted his hand against me more'n once. But -I always stood up to Hennery and I fit him back, free and fair and open. -I give him as good as he sent on this earth and I ain't the one to carry -a mad beyond the grave. I forgive Hennery all the orneriness he did to -me, and there was a lot of it, as is becoming to a church member, which -he never was." - -All the women but Mis' Primrose says: "Elmira, you _have_ got a -Christian sperrit!" Which did her a heap of good, and she cried -considerable harder, leaking out tears as fast as she poured tea in. -And each one present tried to think up something nice to say about -Hank, only there wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that cistern, -listening to every word of it. - -Mis' Rogers, she says: "Before he took to drinking like a fish, Hank -Walters was as likely a lookin' young feller as ever I see." - -Mis' White, she says: "Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, anyhow. -Often and often White has told me about seeing Hank treating the crowd -down in Nolan's saloon just as come-easy, go-easy as if it wasn't money -he'd ought to have paid his honest debts with." - -They sat there that way telling of what good points they could think of -for ten minutes, and Hank hearing it and getting madder and madder all -the time. By and by Tom Alexander came busting into the house. - -"What's the matter with all you women?" he says. "There's nobody hanging -in that blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, and it's -empty." - -There was a pretty howdy-do, then, and they all sing out: - -"Where's the corpse?" - -Some thinks maybe someone has cut it down and taken it away, and all -gabbled at once. But for a minute or two no one thought that maybe -little Danny had been egged on to tell lies. And little Danny ain't -saying a word. But Elmira grabbed me and shook me and said: - -"You little liar, what do you mean by that story of yours?" - -I thought that licking was about due then. But whilst all eyes were -turned on me and Elmira, there came a voice from the cistern. It was -Hank's voice, but it sounded queer and hollow, and it said: - -"Tom Alexander, is that you?" - -Some of the women screamed, for they thought it was Hank's ghost. But -Mis' Primrose says: "What would a ghost be doing in a cistern?" - -Tom Alexander laughed and yelled down into the cistern: "What in blazes -you want to jump in there for, Hank?" - -"You darned ijut!" said Hank, "you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and -when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ask me what I wanted to jump in -here for!" - -"You never saw the day you could do it," says Tom Alexander, meaning the -day Hank could lick him. "And if you feel that way about it you can stay -down there, for all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you any, -for a change." And he left the house. - -"Elmira," sings out Hank, mad and bossy, "you go get me a ladder!" - -But Elmira, her temper rose up, too, all of a sudden. - -"Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, -Hennery Walters," she says. - -Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. "When I get out'n here," he shouted, -"I'll give you what you won't forget in a hurry! I heard you a-forgivin' -me and a-weepin' over me! And I won't be forgive nor weeped over by no -one! You go and get that ladder!" - -But Elmira only answered: "You was drunk when you fell in there, Hank -Walters. And you can stay in there till you get a better temper on to -you." And all the women laughed and said: "That's right, Elmira! Spunk -up to him!" - -There was considerable splashing around in the water for a couple of -minutes. And then, of a sudden, a live fish came a-whirling out of -that hole in the floor, which he catched with his hands. It was a big -bullhead, and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, -and it landed kerplump on to Mis' Rogers' lap, a-wiggling, and it horned -her on the hands. She was that surprised she fainted. Mis' Primrose, -she got up and licked the fish back into the cistern and said, right -decided: - -"Elmira Walters, if you let Hank out of that cistern before he's signed -the pledge and promised to jine the church, you're a bigger fool than I -take you for. A woman has got to make a stand!" - -And all the women sing out: "Send for Brother Cartwright! Send for -Brother Cartwright!" - -And they sent me scooting down the street to get him quick. He was the -preacher. I never stopped to tell but two or three people on the way to -his house, but they must have spread the news quick, for when I got back -with him it looked like the whole town was at our house. - -It was along about dusk by this time, and it was a prayer meeting night -at the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks that came -to the prayer meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait for him. But -she really told them where he'd gone, and what for. - -Mr. Cartwright marched right into our kitchen. All the chairs in the -house was in there, and the women were talking and laughing, and they -had sent to the Alexanderses for their chairs, and to the Rogerses for -theirs. Every once in a while there would be an awful burst of language -come rolling up from the hole where that unregenerate old sinner was -cooped up. - -I have travelled around considerable since those days, and I have mixed -up along with many kinds of people in many different places, and some -of them were cussers to admire. But I never heard such cussing before or -since as old Hank did that night. He busted his own records and he rose -higher than his own water marks for previous years. I wasn't anything -but a little kid then, not fit to admire the full beauty of it. They -were deep down cusses that came from the heart. Looking back at it after -these years, I can well believe what Brother Cartwright said himself -that night--that it wasn't _natural_ cussing, and that some higher -power, like a demon or an evil sperrit, must have entered into Hank's -human carcase and given that terrible eloquence to his remarks. It -busted out every few minutes, and the women would put their fingers into -their ears until a spell was over. And it was personal, too. Hank would -listen till he heard a woman's voice he knew, and then he would let -loose on her family, going back to her grandfathers and working downward -to her children's children. - -Brother Cartwright steps up to the hole in the floor and says gentle -and soothing like an undertaker when he tells you where to sit at a home -funeral: - -"Brother Walters! Oh, Brother Walters!" - -"Brother!" yelled Hank, "don't ye brother me, you snifflin', -psalm-singin', yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hyp-percrit, you! Get me a -ladder, gol dern ye, and I'll mount out o'here and learn ye to brother -me, I will!" Only that wasn't anything to what Hank really said; no more -like than a little yellow fluffy canary is like a turkey buzzard. - -"Brother Walters," said the preacher, calm but firm, "we have all -decided that you aren't going to get out of that cistern until you sign -the pledge." - -Then Hank told him what he thought of him and pledges and church doings, -and it wasn't pretty. He said if he was as deep in the eternal fire of -hell as he was in rain water, and every fish that nibbled at his toes -was a devil with a red-hot pitchfork sicked on by a preacher, they could -jab at him until the whole hereafter turned into icicles before he'd -sign anything that a man like Mr. Cartwright gave him to sign. Hank was -stubborner than any mule he ever nailed shoes on to, and proud of being -that stubborn. That town was a most awful religious town, and Hank knew -he was called the most unreligious man in it, and he was proud of that, -too; and if any one called him a heathen it just plumb tickled him all -over. - -"Brother Walters," says the preacher, "we are going to pray for you." - -And they did it. They brought all the chairs close up around the cistern -door, in a ring, and they all knelt down there with their heads on the -chairs and prayed for Hank's salvation. They did it up in style, too, -one at a time, and the others singing out, "Amen!" every now and then, -and they shed tears down on to Hank. - -The front yard was crowded with men, all laughing and talking and -chawing and spitting tobacco, and betting how long Hank would hold out. -Si Emery, that was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated -star, was out there with them. Si was in a sweat, because Bill Nolan, -who ran the saloon, and some more of Hank's friends were out by the -front fence trying to get Si to arrest the preacher. For they said that -Hank was being gradually murdered in that water and would die if he was -held there too long, and it would be a crime. Only they didn't come into -the house amongst us religious folks to say it. But Si, he says he don't -dare to arrest anybody, because Hank's house is just outside the village -corporation line; he's considerable worried about what his duty is, not -liking to displease Bill Nolan. - -Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright had rounded up at the prayer -meeting came stringing along in. They had brought their hymn books with -them, and they sung. The whole town was there then, and they all sung. -They sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank, he would just cuss and -cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would -start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard began to warm -up and sing, too, all but Nolan's crowd, and they gave Hank up for lost -and went back to the barroom. - -The first thing they knew they had a regular old-fashioned revival -meeting going there, and that preacher was preaching a regular revival -sermon. I've been to more than one camp meeting, but for just naturally -taking hold of the whole human race by the slack of the pants and -dangling of it over hell fire, I never heard that sermon equalled. Two -or three old backsliders in the crowd came right up and repented all -over again. The whole kit-and-biling of them got the power, good and -hard, and sung and shouted till the joints of the house cracked and it -shook and swayed on its foundations. But Hank, he only cussed. He was -obstinate, Hank was, and his pride and dander had risen up. - -"Darn your ornery religious hides," he says, "you're takin' a low-down -advantage of me, you are! Let me out on to dry land, and I'll show you -who'll stick it out the longest, I will!" - -Most of the folks there hadn't had any suppers, so after all the sinners -but Hank had either got converted or sneaked away, some of the women -said why not make a kind of a love feast of it, and bring some victuals, -like they do at church sociables. Because it seemed that Satan was going -to wrestle there all night, like he did with the angel Jacob, and they -ought to be prepared. So they did it. They went and they came back with -things to eat and they made hot coffee and they feasted that preacher -and themselves and Elmira and me, right in Hank's hearing. - -And Hank was getting pretty hungry himself. And he was cold in that -water. And the fish were nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out -and weak and soaked full of despair. There wasn't any way for him to sit -down and rest. He was scared of getting cramps in his legs and sinking -down with his head under water and being drowned. - -He said afterward he would have done the last with pleasure if there -had been any way of starting a lawsuit for murder against that gang. So -along between ten and eleven o'clock that night he sings out: - -"I give in, gosh dern ye, I give in! Let me out and I'll sign your pesky -pledge!" - -Brother Cartwright was for getting a ladder and letting him climb out -right away. But Elmira said: "You don't know him like I do! If he gets -out before he's signed the pledge, he'll never do it." - -So Brother Cartwright wrote out a pledge on the inside leaf of the -Bible, and tied it on to a string, and a pencil on to another string, -and let them down, and held a lantern down, too, and Hank made his -mark, for he couldn't write. But just as Hank was making his mark that -preacher spoke some words over Hank, and then he said: - -"Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the -church." - -You might have thought that Hank would have broken out into profanity -again at that, for he hadn't agreed to anything but signing the pledge. -But he didn't cuss. When they got the ladder and he climbed up into -the kitchen, shivering and dripping, he said serious and solemn to Mr. -Cartwright: - -"Did I hear you baptizing me in that water?" - -Mr. Cartwright said he had. - -"That was a low-down trick," said Hank. "You knowed I always made my -brags that I'd never jined a church and never would. You knowed I was -proud of that. You knowed it was my glory to tell it, and that I set -a heap of store by it, in every way. And now you've gone and took that -away from me! You've gone and jined me to the church! You never fought -it out fair and square, man strivin' to outlast man, like we done with -the pledge, but you sneaked it on to me when I wasn't lookin'!" - -And Hank always thought he had been baptized binding and regular. And -he sorrowed and grieved over it, and got grouchier and meaner and -drunkener. No pledge nor no Prohibition could hold Hank. He was a worse -man in every way after that night in the cistern, and took to licking me -harder and harder. - - - - -ACCURSED HAT - -I request of you a razor, and you present me with this implement! A -safety razor! One cannot gash oneself with your invention. Do you think -I rush to your apartment with the desire to barber myself? No, _milles -diables_, no! I 'ave embrace you for my friend, and you mock at my -despair. This tool may safely abolish the 'air from the lip of the -drummer when the train 'ave to wiggle, but it will not gash the jugular; -it will not release the bluest blood of France that courses through -one's veins. - -_Oui,_ I will restrain myself. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ I will make -myself of a calmness. I will explain. - -Yes, it is a woman. What else? At the insides of all despair it is a -woman ever. That is always the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the one best -bet. - -Listen. I love 'er. She own the 'ouse of which I am one of the lodgers, -in'abiting the chamber beneath the skylight. She is a widow, and I love -'er. Of such a roundness is she!--and she 'ave the restaurant beyond the -street. Of such a beauty!--and 'er 'usband, who was a Monsieur Flanagan, -'e leave 'er w'at you call well fix with life-insurance. So well fix, -so large, so brilliant of the complexion, so merry of the smile, so -competent of the mnage, of such a plumpness! 'Ow should it be that one -did not love 'er? - -But she? Does she smile on the 'andsome Frenchman who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber and paint and paint and paint all day long, and sell, -oh, so little of 'is paintings? _Hlas!_ She scarcely know that 'e -exist! She 'ave scarcely notice 'im. 'Ow is genius of avail? W'at is -wit, w'at is gallantry, w'at is manner--w'at is all these things w'en -one does not possess the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the front? _Hlas!_ -I love, but I 'ave not the front! My trousers are all of a fringe at the -bottom, and my collars are all of a frowsiness at the top. My sleeves -are of such a shine! And my 'at---- - -Ten thousand curses for the man that invented 'ats! You are my -friend--'ave you a pistol? Yes, I will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. I -will restrain myself. _Merci_, monsieur. - -My sleeves are of a sleekness; and my 'at----My 'at, I look at 'im. 'E -is--w'at you call 'im?--on the boom! I contemplate 'im sadly. I regard -'im with reproach. 'E is ridiculous. 'E look like 'e been kicked. -With such a 'at, who can enact the lover? With such a 'at, who can win -'imself a widow? I fly into a rage. I tear from my 'air. I shake my fist -at the nose of fate. I become terrible. I dash my 'at upon the floor, -and jump upon 'im with fury. Then I look at 'im with 'atred. 'E look -back at me with sorrow in 'is wrinkles. And, _Voil!_--as I look at 'im -I 'ave a thought. The 'at, 'e straighten out from my jump. W'en my feet -is off, 'e rise a little way from 'is wrinkles where I crush 'im. 'E -lift 'imself slowly like a jack-in-the-box up from 'is disgrace. And I -'ave an idea. - -Monsieur, we Frenchmen are a people of resource! - -I take my thought to an agent of the advertising profession. I say I -'ave come to the place where I am willing to degrade my genius for -gold. I wish to eat more often. I wish to marry the widow I love. I -will forget my art; I will make some dollars; I will degrade myself -temporarily. The agent of advertising 'e say 'e 'ave no need of any -degradation, to take 'im somewhere else. But I explain, and behold! I am -engaged to go to work. They furnish me with clothes of a design the most -fashionable, and with a 'at of which I am myself the architect, and I go -to work. I 'ate it, but I go to work. - -The manner of my work is this. The 'at, 'e does it all. (_Accursed -'at!_) 'E is so built that on the outside 'e look like any other silk -'at. But 'e 'ave 'is secrets. 'E 'ave 'is surprises. On 'is inside there -is a clockwork and a spring. At intervals 'e separate 'imself in two in -the middle, and the top part of 'im go up in the air, slowly, one inch, -two inch, three inch, four inch, five inch, six inch--like a telescope -that open 'imself out. And w'at 'ave we then? _Voila!_ We 'ave a white -silk place, and on it is printed in grand letters: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -You see, my friend? It is now my profession, every afternoon for three -hours, to join the promenade; to display my 'at; to make fast in -the minds of the people 'ow fortunate a discovery is the anti-fat of -Monsieur Blinn. - -Monsieur, I am always the gentleman. Am I forced into a vulgar role? -Well, then, there is something about me that redeems it from vulgarity. -I am a movable advertisement, but none the less I am an advertisement of -dignity. Those clothes they furnish, I 'ave made under my own direction. -I adorn my foot in the most poetical of boots. Only a Frenchman might -'ave created my coat. My trousers are poems. I am dressed with that -inspiration of elegance which only a man of my imagination might devise. - -Monsieur, I am always the artist. That 'at, I nevaire let 'im go up with -a pop like a jacking-jump. 'E is not to startle the most sensitive of -ladies. W'en 'e arise, 'e arise slowly. 'E is majestic in 'is movement. -'E ascend with gravity. 'E go up with dignity. - -For three hours each day, I thus set aside my finer emotions. And all -the town smile; and many 'undreds rush to buy the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan---- - -Curses upon the perfidy of woman! Do not 'old me, I say! Let me go! I -will leap from your window to the stones below! Well, I will restrain -myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan does not perceive that I thus make of -my 'ead a billboard three hours each day? Monsieur, all Frenchmen are of -an originality w'en driven to it by fate, and not the least of them am -I! To 'er I am still the poor but 'andsome artist. It is in the parlours -of the agent of advertising that I dress myself, I don the 'at, each -day. I wear before my eyes a thick spectacles; I 'ide my black 'air -beneath a gray wig; I 'ave shave my own beard and each day put on -moustache and royal of a colour the same with the wig. There is no -danger that the grave foreigner, so courteous, so elegant, so much the -statesman, who condescend to advertise the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn, -shall be--shall be--w'at you call 'im?--spotted by the Widow Flanagan. -She does not connect 'im with the 'andsome artist who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber. To do so would be to kill my 'opes. For love is not to -be made ridiculous. - -I prosper. I 'ave money each week. I eat. I acquire me some clothes -which are not the same with those worn by the employee of Monsieur -Blinn. I buy me a silk 'at which 'ave no clockwork in 'is inside. I -acquire the--w'at you call 'im?--the front. I dine at the caf of the -Widow Flanagan beyond the street. I chat with the Widow Flanagan w'en -I pay my check. Monsieur, the Widow Flanagan at las' know the 'andsome -Frenchman exist! The front, 'e work like a charm. 'E give the genius -beneath 'im the chance to show w'at 'e can do. The front, 'e make--'ow -you call 'im?--'e make good. - -'Ave I said enough? You are my friend; you see me, w'at I am. Is it -possible that the Widow Flanagan should look upon me and not be of a -flutter throughout? I 'ave said enough. She see me; she love me. With -women, it is always so! - -The day is name; we will marry. Already I look forward to the time that -I am no longer compelled to the service of the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. Already I indulge my fancy in my 'appiness with the beautiful -Widow Flanagan, whose 'usband 'ave fortunately die and leave 'er so ver' -well fix. But, _hlas!_ - -Grasp me! Restrain me! Again my grief 'ave overpower! 'Ave you a -rough-on-rats in the 'ouse? 'Ave you a poison? Yes, you are my friend. -Yes, I will restrain myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -The day is name. The day arrive. I 'ave shave. I 'ave bathe. I am 'appy. -I skip; I dance; I am exalt; all the morning I 'urn a little tune--O -love, love, love! And such a widow--so plump and so well fix! - -The wedding is at the 'ome of Madame Flanagan. Meantime, I am with a -friend. The hour approach. The guests are there; the priest is there; -the mother of the Widow Flanagan, come from afar, is there. We arrive, -my friend and me. It is at the door that we are met by the mother of -the Widow Flanagan. It is at the door she grasp my 'and; she smile, and -then, before I 'ave time to remove my 'at---- - -Accursed 'at! Restrain me! I will do myself a mischief! Well, yes, I -will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci_, my friend. - -I see 'er face grow red. She scream. She lift 'er and as if to strike -me. She scream again. I know not w'at I must think. The Widow Flanagan -she 'ear 'er mother scream. She rush downstairs. I turn to the Widow -Flanagan, but she 'as no eyes for me. She is gazing on my 'at. Monsieur, -then I know. I 'ave got the wrong one in dressing; and I feel that -accursed thing are lifting itself up to say to my bride and her mother: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -And be'ind the Widow Flanagan and 'er mother come crowding fifty guests, -and everyone 'as seen my 'at make those remarks! Accursed widow! The -door is slam in my face! I am jilted! - -Ah, laugh, you pigs of guests, laugh, till you shake down the dwelling -of the Widow Flanagan! Were it not that I remember that I once loved -you, Madame Flanagan, that 'ouse would now be ashes. - -Monsieur, I 'ave done. I 'ave spoken. Now I will die. 'Ave you a rope? -Well, I will calm myself. _Oui_, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci,_ monsieur! - - - - -ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN - -Football," said Big Joe, the friendly waiter, laying down the sporting -page of my paper with a reminiscent sigh, "ain't what it was twenty -years ago. When I played the game it was some different from wood-tag -and pump-pump-pull-away. It's went to the dogs." - -"Used to be a star, huh?" said I. "What college did you play with, Joe?" - -"No college," said Joe, "can claim me for its alma meter." - -He seated himself comfortably across the table from me, as the more -sociably inclined waiters will do in that particular place. "I don't -know that I ever was a star. But I had the punch, and I was as tough as -that piece of cow you're trying to stick your fork into. And I played in -one game the like of which has never been pulled off before or since." - -"Tell me about it," said I, handing him a cigar. Joe sniffed and tasted -it suspiciously, and having made sure that it wasn't any brand sold on -the premises, lighted it. There was only one other customer, and it was -near closing time. - -"No, sir," he said, "it wasn't any kissing game in my day. Ever hear of -a place called Kingstown, Illinois? Well, some has and some hasn't. It's -a burg of about five thousand souls and it's on the Burlington. Along -about the time of the Spanish war it turned out a football team that -used to eat all them little colleges through there alive. - -"The way I joined was right unexpected to me. I happened into the place -on a freight train, looking for a job, and got pinched for a hobo. When -they started to take me to the lock-up I licked the chief of police and -the first deputy chief of police, and the second deputy, but the other -member of the force made four, and four was too many for me. I hadn't -been incarcerated ten minutes before a pleasant looking young fellow who -had seen the rumpus comes up to the cell door with the chief, and says -through the bars: - -"'How much do you weigh?' - -"'Enough,' says I, still feeling sore, 'to lick six longhaired dudes -like you.' - -"'Mebby,' says he, very amiable, 'mebby you do. And if you do, I've got -a job for you.' - -"He was so nice about it that he made me ashamed of my grouch... - -"'No offence meant,' says I. 'I only weigh 230 pounds now. But when I'm -getting the eats regular I soon muscles up to 250 stripped.' - -"'I guess you'll do,' says he, 'judging by the fight you put up. We need -strength and carelessness in the line.' - -"'What line is that?' says I, suspicious. - -"'From now on,' says he, 'you're right tackle on the Kingstown Football -Team. I'm going to get you a job with a friend of mine that runs a -livery stable, but your main duty will be playing football. Are you on?' - -"'Lead me to the training table,"' says I. And he paid me loose and done -it. - -"This fellow was Jimmy Dolan, and he had once played an end on Yale, -and couldn't forget it. He and a couple of others that had been off to -colleges had started the Kingstown Team. One was an old Michigan star, -and the other had been a half-back at Cornell. The rest of us wasn't -college men at all, but as I remarked before, we were there with the -punch. - -"There was Tom Sharp, for instance. Tom was thought out and planned and -preforedestinated for a centre rush by Nature long before mankind ever -discovered football. Tom was about seventeen hands high, and his style -of architecture was mostly round about. I've seen many taller men, but -none more circumferous as to width and thickness. Tom's chest was the -size and shape of a barrel of railroad spikes, but a good deal harder. -You couldn't knock him off his feet, but if you could have, it wouldn't -have done you any good, for he was just as high one way as he was -another--and none of it idle fat. Tom was a blacksmith during his -leisure hours, and every horse and mule for miles around knowed him -and trembled at his name. He had never got hold of nothing yet that was -solid enough to show him how strong he was. - -"But the best player was a big teamster by the name of Jerry Coakley. -Jerry was between six and eight feet high, and to the naked eye he was -seemingly all bone. He weighed in at 260 pounds _ad valorem_, and he -was the only long bony man like that I ever seen who could get himself -together and start quick. Tom Sharp would roll down the field calm and -thoughtful and philosophic, with the enemy clinging to him and dripping -off of him and crumpling up under him, with no haste and no temper, -like an absent-minded battleship coming up the bay; but this here Jerry -Coakley was sudden and nefarious and red-headed like a train-wreck. And -the more nefarious he was, the more he grinned and chuckled to himself. -'For two years that team had been making a reputation for itself, and -all the pride and affection and patriotism in the town was centred on to -it. I joined on early in the season, but already the talk was about the -Thanksgiving game with Lincoln College. This Lincoln College was a right -sizable school. Kingstown had licked it the year before, and there were -many complaints of rough play on both sides. But this year Lincoln had -a corking team. They had beat the state university, and early in the -season they had played Chicago off her feet, and they were simply -yearning to wipe out the last year's disgrace by devastating the -Kingstown Athletic Association, which is what we called ourselves. And -in the meantime both sides goes along feeding themselves on small-sized -colleges and athletic associations, hearing more and more about each -other, and getting hungrier and hungrier. - -"Things looked mighty good for us up to about a week before -Thanksgiving. Then one day Jerry Coakley turned up missing. We put in -48 hours hunting him, and at the end of that time there was a meeting -of the whole chivalry and citizenry of Kingstown in the opery hall to -consider ways and means of facing the public calamity. For the whole -town was stirred up. The mayor himself makes a speech, which is printed -in full in the Kingstown _Record_ the next day along with a piece that -says: 'Whither are we drifting?' - -"Next day, after practice, Jimmy Dolan is looking pretty blue. - -"'Cheer up,' says I, 'Jerry wasn't the whole team.' - -"'He was about a fifth of it,' says Captain Dolan, very sober. - -"'But the worst was yet to come. The very next day, at practice, a big -Swede butcher by the name of Lars Olsen, who played right guard, managed -to break his ankle. This here indignity hit the town so hard that it -looked for a while like Lars would be mobbed. Some says Lars has sold -out to the enemy and broke it on purpose, and the Kingstown _Record_ has -another piece headed: 'Have we a serpent in our midst?' - -"That night Dolan puts the team in charge of Berty Jones, the Cornell -man, with orders to take no risks on anything more injurious than signal -practice, and leaves town. He gets back on Wednesday night, and two guys -with him. They are hustled from the train to a cab and from the cab to -the American House, and into their rooms, so fast no one gets a square -look at them. - -"But after dinner, which both of the strangers takes in their rooms, -Dolan says to come up to Mr. Breittmann's room and get acquainted -with him, which the team done. This here Breittmann is a kind of -Austro-Hungarian Dutchman looking sort of a great big feller, with -a foreign cast of face, like he might be a German baron or a Switzer -waiter, and he speaks his language with an accent. Mr. Rooney, which is -the other one's name, ain't mentioned at first. But after we talk with -the Breittmann person a while Jimmy Dolan says: - -"'Boys, Mr. Rooney has asked to be excused from meeting any -one to-night, but you'll all have an opportunity to meet him -to-morrow--after the game.' - -"'But,' says I, 'Cap, won't he go through signal practice with us?' - -"Dolan and Breittmann, and Berty Jones, who was our quarterback and the -only one in the crowd besides Dolan who had met Mr. Rooney, looked at -each other and kind of grinned. Then Dolan says: 'Mr. Breittmann knows -signals and will run through practice with us in the morning, but not -Mr. Rooney. Mr. Breittmann, boys, used to be on the Yale scrub.' - -"'Dem vas goot days, Chimmie,' says this here Breittmann, 'but der -naturalist, Chimmie, he is also the good days. What?' - -"The next day, just before the game, I got my first glimpse of this -Rooney when he come downstairs with Breittmann and they both piled into -a cab. He wore a long overcoat over his football togs, and he had so -many headpieces and nose guards and things on to him all you could see -of his face was a bit of reddish looking whisker at the sides. - -"'He's Irish by the name,' says 1, 'and the way he carries them -shoulders and swings his arms he must have learned to play football -by carrying the hod.' He wasn't a big man, neither, and I thought he -handled himself kind of clumsy. - -"When we got out to the football field and that Lincoln College bunch -jumped out of their bus and began to pass the ball around, the very -first man we see is that there Jerry Coakley. - -"Yes, sir, sold out! - -"Dolan and me ran over to the Lincoln captain. - -"'You don't play that man!' says Dolan, mad as a hornet, pointing at -Jerry. Jerry, he stood with his arms crossed, grinning and chuckling to -himself, bold as Abraham Lincoln on the burning deck and built much the -same. - -"'Why not?' says the college captain, 'he's one of our students.' - -"'Him?' says I. 'Why, he's the village truck-driver here!' And that -there Jerry had the nerve to wink at me. - -"'Mr. Coakley matriculated at Lincoln College a week ago,' says the -captain, Jerry he grinned more and more, and both teams had gathered -into a bunch around us. - -"'Matriculated? Jerry did?' says Jimmy Dolan. 'Why, it's all Jerry can -do to write his name.' - -"'Mr. Coakley is studying the plastic arts, and taking a special course -in psychology,' says the captain. - -"'Let him play, Dolan,' says Tom Sharp. 'Leave him to me. I'll learn him -some art. I'll fix him!' - -"'O, you Tom!' says Jerry, grinning good-natured. - -"'O, you crook!' says Tom. And Jerry, still grinning good-natured, hands -Tom one. It took the rest of the two teams to separate them, and they -both started the game with a little blood on their faces. We made no -further kick about Jerry playing. All our boys wanted him in the game. -'Get him!' was the word passed down the line. And after that little -mix-up both sides was eager to begin. - -"We kicked off. I noticed this here Rooney person got down after the -kick-off rather slow, sticking close to his friend Breittmann. He was at -left tackle, right, between Breittmann at guard, and Dolan, who played -end. - -"Jerry, he caught the kick-off and come prancing up the field like a -prairie whirlwind. But Dolan and me got to him about the same time, and -as we downed him Tom Sharp, quite accidental, stepped on to his head -with both feet. - -"'Foul!' yells the referee, running up and waving his hand at Tom -Sharp. 'Get off the field, you! I penalize Kingstown thirty yards for -deliberate foul play!' - -"But Jerry jumped up--it took more'n a little thing like that to feaze -Jerry--and shoved the referee aside. - -"'No, you don't put him out of this game,' says Jerry. 'I want him in -it. I'll put him out all right!' - -"Then there was a squabble, that ended with half of both teams ordered -off the field. And the upshot of which was that everybody on both sides -agreed to abolish all umpires and referees, and get along without any -penalties whatever, or any officials but the time-keeper. No, sir, none -of us boys was in any temper by that time to be interfered with nor -dictated to by officials. - -"No, what followed wasn't hampered any by technicalities. No, sir, it -wasn't drop the handkerchief. There wasn't any Hoyle or Spalding or -Queensberry about it. It was London prize ring, _savate_, jiu juitsi and -Grco-Roman, all mixed up, with everybody making his own ground rules. -The first down, when Tom Sharp picked up that Lincoln College Captain -and hit Jerry Coakley over the head with him, five Lincoln College -substitutes give a yell and threw off their sweaters and run on to the -field. Then we heard another yell, and our substitutes come charging -into the fray and by the end of the first half there was eighteen men -on each side, including three in citizens' clothes who were using brass -knucks and barrel staves." - -Joe paused a moment, dwelling internally upon memories evidently too -sweet for words. Then he sighed and murmured: "No, sir, the game ain't -what it was in them days. Kick and run and forward pass and such darned -foolishness! Football has went to the dogs! - -"Well," he resumed, flexing his muscles reminiscently, "neither side -wasted any time on end runs or punts. It was punch the line, and then -punch the line some more, and during the first ten minutes of play the -ball didn't move twenty yards either way from the centre of the field, -with a row on all the time as to whose ball it ought to be. As a matter -of fact, it was whoever's could keep his hands on to it. - -"It was the third down before I noticed this fellow Rooney particular. -Then our quarterback sent a play through between guard and tackle. It -was up to Rooney to make the hole for it. - -"As the signal was give, and the ball passed back, Breittmann laid his -arm across Rooney's shoulders, and I heard him say something in Dutch to -him. They moved forward like one man, not fast, but determined like. A -big college duffer tried to get through Rooney and spill the play. This -here Rooney took him around the waist and slammed him on to the ground -with a yell like a steamship that's discovered fire in her coal bunkers, -and then knelt on the remains, while the play went on over 'em. I -noticed Breittmann had a hard time getting Rooney off of him. They -carried the fellow off considerably sprained, and two more Lincoln -College fellows shucked their wraps and run in to take his place. - -"The very next play went through the same hole, only this time the -fellow that went down under Rooney got up with blood soaking through his -shoulder padding and swore he'd been bit. But nobody paid any attention -to him, and the Lincoln boys put Jerry Coakley in opposite Rooney. - -"'You cross-eyed, pigeon-toed Orangeman of a hod-carrier, you,' says -Jerry, when we lined up, trying to intimidate Rooney, 'I'll learn you -football.' - -"But Rooney, with his left hand hold of Breittmann's, never said a word. -He just looked sideways up at Breittmann like he was scared, or mebby -shy, and Breittmann said something in Dutch to him. - -"That play we made five yards, and we made it through Jerry Coakley, -too, Mr. Rooney officiating. When Breittmann got his friend off Jerry, -Jerry set up and tried to grin, but he couldn't. He felt himself all -over, surprised, and took his place in the line without saying a word. - -"Then we lost the ball on a fumble, which is to say the Lincoln centre -jumped on to Tom Sharp's wrists with both feet when he tried to pass -it, and Jerry Coakley grabbed it. The first half closed without a score, -with the ball still in the centre of the field. - -"The second half, I could see right away, Jerry Coakley had made up his -mind to do up Rooney. The very first play Lincoln made was a guard's -back punch right at Rooney. I reckon the whole Lincoln team was in that -play, with Jerry Coakley in the van. - -"We got into it, too. All of us," Joe paused again, with another -reflective smile. Pretty soon he continued. - -"Yes, sir, that was some scrimmage. And in the midst of it, whoever had -the ball dropped it. But for a minute, nobody seemed to care. And then -we discovered that them unsportsmanlike Lincoln College students had -changed to baseball shoes with metal spikes between the halves. We -hadn't thought of that. - -"After about a minute of this mauling, clawing mess, right out of the -midst of it rolled the ball. And then came this here Rooney crawling -after it--_crawling_ I say!--on his hands and feet. - -"He picked it up and straightened himself. - -"'Run, Rooney, run!' says I. And he had a clear field. But he didn't -seem to realize it. He just tucked that ball under one arm, and ambled. - -"Half a dozen of us fell in and tried to make interference for him--but -he wouldn't run; he just dog-trotted, slow and comfortable. And in a -second Jerry Coakley sifted through and tackled him. - -"Rooney stopped. Stopped dead in his track, as if he was surprised. And -then, using only one hand--only one hand, mind you--he picked that there -Jerry Coakley up, like he was an infant, give him one squeeze, and slung -him. Yes, sir, Jerry was all sort of crumpled up when he lit! - -"And he kept on, slow and easy and gentle. The Lincoln gang spilled the -interference. But that didn't bother Rooney any. Slow and certain and -easy he went down that field. And every time he was tackled he separated -that tackier from himself and treated him like he had Jerry. - -"Yes, sir, he strung behind him ten men out of the nineteen players -Lincoln College had in that game, as he went down the field. From where -I was setting on top of the Lincoln centre rush, I counted 'em as he -took 'em. Slow and solemn and serious like an avenging angel, Mr. Rooney -made for them goal posts, taking no prisoners, and leaving the wounded -and dead in a long windrow behind him. It wasn't legalized -football, mebby, but it was a grand and majestic sight to see that -stoop-shouldered feller with the red whiskers proceeding calmly and -unstoppably forward like the wrath of God. - -"Yes, sir, the game was ours. We thought it was, leastways. All he had -to do was touch that there ball to the ground! The whole of Kingstown -was drawing in its breath to let out a cheer as soon as he done it. - -"But it never let that yell. For when he reached the goal----" - -Here Joe broke off again and chuckled. - -"Say," he said, "you ain't going to believe what I'm telling you now. -It's too unlikely. I didn't believe it myself when I seen it. But it -happened. Yes, sir, that nut never touched the ground with the ball! - -"Instead, with the ball still under one arm, he climbed a goal post. -Climbed it, I tell you, with both legs and one arm. And setting straddle -of that cross bar believe me or not, he began to shuck. In front of all -that crowd, dud after dud, he shucked. - -"And there wasn't no cheers then, for in a minute there he set, _a -monkey!_ Yes, sir, the biggest blamed monkey you ever seen, trying to -crack that football open on a goal post under the belief that it was -a cocoa-nut. Monkey, did I say? Monkey ain't any word for it! He was a -regular ape; he was one of these here orang-outang baboons! Yes, sir, a -regular gosh-darned Darwinian gorilla!" - -Joe took a fresh light for his cigar, and cocked his eye again at my -sporting supplement. "I notice," he said, sarcastically, "Princeton -had a couple of men hurt yesterday in the Yale game. Well, accidents is -bound to happen even in ring-around-the-rosy or prisoner's base. What?" - - - - -TOO AMERICAN - -Is it a real English cottage?" we asked the agent suspiciously, "or is -it one that has been hastily aged to rent to Americans?" - -It was the real thing: he vouched for it. It was right in the middle -of England. The children could walk for miles in any direction without -falling off the edge of England and getting wet. - -"See here!" I said. "How many blocks from Scotland is it?" - -"Blocks from Scotland?" He didn't understand. - -"Yes," I said, "blocks from Scotland." I explained. My wife and I had -been trying to get a real English accent. That was one of the things we -had come to England for. We wanted to take it back with us and use it -in Brooklyn, and we didn't want to get too near Scotland and get any -Scottish dialect mixed up with it. It seemed that the cottage was quite -a piece from Scotland. There was a castle not far away--the fifteenth -castle on the right side as you go into England. When there wasn't any -wind you didn't get a raw sea breeze or hear the ocean vessels whistle. - -"Is it overgrown with ivy," asked Marian, my wife. - -Yes, it was ivy-covered. You could scarcely see it for ivy--ivy that was -pulling the wall down, ivy as deep-rooted as the hereditary idea. - -"Are the drains bad?" I asked. - -They were. There would be no trouble on that score. What plumbing there -was, was leaky. The roof leaked. - -There was neither gas nor electricity, nor hot and cold water, nor -anything else. - -"I suppose the place is rather damp?" I said to the agent. "Is it chilly -most of the time? Are the flues defective? Are the floors uneven? Is the -place thoroughly uncomfortable and unsanitary and unhabitable in every -particular?" - -Yes, it had all these advantages. I was about to sign the lease when my -wife plucked me by the sleeve in her impulsive American way. "Is there a -bathroom?" she asked. - -"My dear Mrs. Minever," said the agent with dignity, "there is not. I -can assure you that there are no conveniences of any kind. It is a real -English cottage." - -I took the place. It was evening of the third day after we took -possession that I discovered that we had been taken in. All the other -Americans in that part of England were sitting out in front of their -cottages trying to look as if they were accustomed to them, and we--my -wife and Uncle Bainbridge and I--were sitting in front of ours trying to -act as English as we knew how, when a voice hailed me. - -"You are Americans, aren't you, sir?" said the voice. - -The voice was anyhow; so we shamefacedly confessed. - -"I thought you looked like it," said the voice, and its owner came -wavering toward us through the twilight. - -"What makes you think we look like it?" I said, a trifle annoyed; for -it had been my delusion that we had got ourselves to looking quite -English--English enough, at least, so that no one could tell us in the -faint light. - -"Our clothes don't fit us, do they?" asked my wife nervously. - -"They can't fit us," said I; "they were made in London." - -I spoke rather sharply, I suppose. And as I was speaking, a most -astonishing thing happened--the person I had been speaking to suddenly -disappeared. He was, and then he was not! I sprang up, and I could tell -from my wife's exclamation that she was startled, too. As for Uncle -Bainbridge, he seldom gives way to emotion not directly connected with -his meals or his money. - -"Here, you!" I called out loudly, looking about me. - -The figure came waveringly into view again. - -"Where did you go to?" I demanded. "What do you mean by acting like -that? Who are you, anyhow?" - -"Please, sir," said the wavery person, "don't speak so crosslike. It -always makes me vanish. I can't help it, sir." - -He continued timidly: - -"I heard a new American family had moved here and I dropped by to ask -you, sir, do you need a ghost?" - -"A ghost! Are you----" - -"Yes, sir," with a deprecating smile. "Only an American ghost; but one -who would appreciate a situation all the more, sir, for that reason. I -don't mind telling you that there's a feeling against us American ghosts -here in England, and I've been out of a place for some time. Maybe you -have noticed a similar feeling toward Americans? I'm sure, sir, you must -have noticed a discrimination, and----" - -"Don't say 'sir' all the time," I told him. - -"Beg pardon, sir," he rejoined: "but it's a habit. I've tried very hard -to fit myself to English ways and it's got to be second nature, sir. My -voice I can't change; but my class--I was a barber in America, sir--my -class I have learned. And," he repeated rather vacantly, "I just dropped -by to see if you wanted a ghost. Being fellow Americans, you know, I -thought----" His voice trailed off into humble silence, and he stood -twisting a shadowy hat round and round in his fingers. - -"See here!" I said. "Should we have a ghost?" - -"Beg pardon, sir, but how much rent do you pay?" I told him. - -He answered politely but with decision, "Then, sir, in all fairness, you -are entitled to a ghost with the place. It gives a certain tone, sir." - -"Why weren't we given one, then?" I asked - -"Well----" he said, and paused. If a ghost can blush with embarrassment, -he blushed. "You see," he went on, making it as easy for me as he could, -"English ghosts mostly object to haunting Americans, just as American -ghosts find it difficult to get places in English houses and cottages. -You see, sir, we are----" - -He halted lamely, and then finished, "We're so _American_ somehow, sir." - -"But we've been cheated!" I said. - -"Yes, sir," said the American ghost, "regularly _had_" He said it in -quite an English manner, and I complimented him on his achievement. He -smiled with a child's delight. - -"Would I do?" he urged again, with a kind of timid insistence. - -My sympathies were with him. "You don't mind children?" I said. "We have -two." - -"No," he replied; "leastways, if they aren't very rough, I am not much -frightened of them." - -"I guess," I began, "that----" I was about to say that he would do, when -my wife interrupted me. - -"We do not want a ghost at all," she said firmly. - -"But, my dear----" - -She raised her eyebrows at me, and I was silent. After looking from -one to the other of us wistfully for a moment, the applicant turned and -drifted away, vanishing dejectedly when he reached the gate. - -"You heard what he said, Henry?" said my wife as he disappeared. "It is -lucky that you have me by you! Do you want to saddle yourself with an -American ghost? For my part, I will have an English ghost or none!" - -I realized that Marian was right; but I felt sorry for the ghost. - -"What did--the fellow--want?" roared Uncle Bain-bridge, who is deaf, and -brings out his words two or three at a time. - -"Wanted to know--if we wanted--a ghost!" I roared in reply. - -"Goat? Goat? Huh-huh!" shouted Uncle Bain-bridge. "No, sir! Get 'em a -pony--and a cart--little cart! That's the best--thing--for the kids!" - -Uncle Bainbridge is, in fact, so deaf that he is never bothered by the -noises he makes when he eats. As a rule when you speak to him he first -says, "How?" Then he produces a kind of telephone arrangement. He plugs -one end into his ear, and shoves a black rubber disk at you. You talk -against the disk, and when he disagrees with you he pulls the plug out -of his ear to stop your foolish chatter, and snorts contemptuously. Once -my wife remarked to me that Uncle Bainbridge's hearing might be better -if he would only cut those bunches of long gray hair out of his ears. -They annoy every one except Uncle Bainbridge a great deal. But the plug -was in, after all, and he heard her, and asked one of the children in a -terrible voice to fetch him the tin box he keeps his will in. - -Uncle Bainbridge is _my_ uncle. My wife reminds me of that every now and -then. And he is rather hard to live with. But Marian, in spite of -his little idiosyncrasies, has always been generous enough to wish to -protect him from designing females only too ready to marry him for his -money. So she encourages him to make his home with us. If he married -at all, she preferred that he should marry her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwod. That was also Miss Sophia's preference. - -We did get a ghost, however, and a real English ghost. The discovery was -mine. I was sitting in the room we called the library one night, alone -with my pipe, when I heard a couple of raps in, on, about, or behind a -large bookcase that stood diagonally across one corner. It was several -days after we had refused the American applicant, and I had been -thinking of him more or less, and wondering what sort of existence he -led. One half the world doesn't know how the other half lives. I suppose -my reflections had disposed my mind to psychic receptivity; for when I -heard raps I said at once: - -"Are there any good spirits in the room?" It is a formula I remembered -from the days when I had been greatly interested in psychic research. - -Rap! rap! came the answer from behind the bookcase. - -I made a tour of the room, and satisfied myself that it was not a -flapping curtain, or anything like that. - -"Do you have a message for me?" I asked. - -The answer was in the affirmative. - -"What is it?" - -There was a confused and rapid jumble of raps. I repeated the question -with the same result. - -"Can you materialize?" - -The ghost rapped no. - -Then it occurred to me that probably this was a ghost of the sort that -can communicate with the visible world only through replying to such -questions as can be answered by yes or no. There are a great many of -these ghosts. Indeed, my experience in psychic research has led me to -the conclusion that they are in the majority. - -"Were you sent down by the agent to take this place?" I asked. - -"No!" It is impossible to convey in print the suggestion of hauteur and -offended dignity and righteous anger that the ghost managed to get into -that single rap. I have never felt more rebuked in my life; I have never -been made to feel more American. - -"Sir or madam," I said, letting the regret I felt be apparent in my -voice, "I beg your pardon. If you please, I should like to know whose -ghost you are. I will repeat the alphabet. You may rap when you wish me -to stop at a letter. In that way you can spell out your information. Is -that satisfactory?" - -It was. - -"Who are you?" - -Slowly, and with the assured raps of one whose social position is -defined, fixed, and secure in whatever state of existence she may chance -to find herself, the ghost spelled out, "Lady Agatha Pelham." - -I hope I am not snobbish. Indeed, I think I have proved over and over -again that I am not, by frankly confessing that I am an American. But -at the same time I could not repress a little exclamation of pleasure -at the fact that we were haunted by the ghost of a member of the -English aristocracy. You may say what you will, but there is a certain -something--a manner--an air--I scarcely know how to describe it, but it -is there; it exists. In England, one meets it so often--I hope you take -me. - -My gratification must have revealed itself in my manner. Lady Agatha -rapped out, if anything with more haughtiness than she had previously -employed--yes, even with a touch of defiance: - -"I was at one time a governess." - -I gradually learned that while her own family was as good as the Pelham -family, Lady Agatha's parents had been in very reduced circumstances, -and she had had to become a governess. When Sir Arthur Pelham had -married her, his people acted very nasty. He hadn't any money, and they -had wanted him to marry some. He got to treating her very badly before -he died. And during his lifetime, and after it, Lady Agatha had had a -very sad life indeed. Still, you know, she was an aristocrat. She made -one feel that as she told her story bit by bit. For all this came very -gradually, as the result of many conversations, and not at once. We -speedily agreed upon a code, very similar to the Morse telegraphic code, -and we still further abbreviated this, until our conversations, after -a couple of weeks, got to be as rapid as that of a couple of telegraph -operators chatting over the wires. I intimated that it must be rather -rough on her to be haunting Americans, and she said that she had once -lived in our cottage and liked it. - -In spite of her aristocracy, I don't suppose there ever was a more -domestic sort of ghost than Lady Agatha. We all got quite fond of her, -and I think she did of us, too, in spite of our being American. Even -the children got into the habit of taking their little troubles and -perplexities to her. And Marian used to say that with Lady Agatha in -the house, when Uncle Bain-bridge and I happened to be away, she felt so -_safe_ somehow. - -I imagine the fact that she had once been a governess would have made -it rather difficult for Lady Agatha in the house of an English family of -rank. On the other hand, her inherent aristocratic feeling made it quite -impossible for her to haunt any one belonging to the middle or lower -classes. She could haunt us, as Americans, and not feel that the social -question mattered so much, in spite of what the American ghost had -hinted. We Americans are so unclassified that the English often take -chances with individuals, quite regardless of what each individual's -class would naturally be if he had a class. Even while they do this they -make us feel very often that we are hopelessly American; but they do it, -and I, for one, am grateful. Lady Agatha sympathized with our desire to -become as English as possible, she could quite understand that. I find -that many Englishmen approve the effort, although remaining confident -that it will end in failure. - -Lady Agatha helped us a great deal. We used to have lessons in the -evenings in the library. For instance, the children would stand at -attention in front of the bookcase, and repeat a bit of typical English -slang, trying to do it in an absolutely English way. They would do it -over and over and over, until finally Lady Agatha would give a rap -of approval. Or I would pretend that I was an Englishman in a railway -carriage, and that an American had just entered and I was afraid he -would speak to me. I got rather good at this, and made two or three -trips to London to try it out. I found that Americans were imposed on, -and actually in one instance I made one Englishman think that I was an -Englishman who thought he was an American. He was a nobody, however, -and didn't really count. And then, I am afraid, I spoiled it all. We -Americans so often spoil it all! I enjoyed it so that I told him. He -looked startled and said, "But how American!" He was the only Englishman -I ever fooled. - -But Lady Agatha's night classes were of great benefit to us. We used to -practise how to behave toward English servants at country houses, and -how to act when presented at court, and dozens of things like that: not -that we had been asked to a country house, or expected to be presented -at court soon. Marian and I had agreed that the greater part of this -information would be quite useless while Uncle Bainbridge was still -spared to us. Even in Brooklyn Uncle Bainbridge had been something of -a problem at times. But we thought it just as well to prepare ourselves -for the sad certainty that Uncle Bainbridge would pass into a better -world before many years. - -Uncle Bainbridge, who is very wealthy indeed, affects more informality -than the usual self-made man. He used to attend our evening classes with -a contemptuous expression upon his face, and snort at intervals. Once he -even called me "Puppy!" Then he thrust his telephone arrangement before -my face and insisted that I tell him whether I was sane or not. - -"Puppy!" he bellowed. "Quit apin' the English! I get along with 'em -myself--without any nonsense! Treat 'em white! Always treat me white! No -foolishness! Puppy!" - -My wife and I soon discovered that Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge were -on the most friendly terms. He would sit for hours in the library, -with his telephone receiver held patiently near the bookcase, shouting -questions and smiling and nodding over the answers. Marian and I were -afraid that Uncle Bainbridge, by his lack of polish, might offend Lady -Agatha. And at first it was her custom to hover about anxiously while -they were talking to each other. But Uncle Bainbridge discovered this, -and resented it to such an extent that she had to be cautious indeed. - -His talks with Lady Agatha became longer and longer, and more and more -frequent, until finally he received more of her attention than all the -rest of us put together. Indeed, we need not have worried about Uncle -Bainbridge's offending Lady Agatha: the friendship grew closer and -closer. We were certain finally that it was taking on a strong tinge of -sentimentality. One day my wife stopped me just outside the library door -and said in a whisper, indicating the general direction of Lady Agatha's -bookcase with a wave of her hand: - -"Henry, those two old things in there are calling each other Hiram and -Agatha!" - -I listened, and it was so. A week later I heard Uncle Bainbridge seated -by the bookcase, bellowing out a sentimental song. He was having a great -deal of difficulty with it, and in order that he might hear himself he -was singing with the black disk arrangement held directly in front of -his own mouth. - -I cannot say that Uncle Bainbridge became etherealized by the state of -his feelings toward Lady Agatha, whatever the exact state of his feeling -may have been. But he did change a little, and the change was for the -better. He cut out the bunches of gray hair from his ears, and he began -to take care of his fingernails. Lady Agatha was having a good influence -upon him. - -One day, as he and I were standing by the front gate, he suddenly -connected himself for speech and roared at me, with a jerk of his thumb -toward the house. - -"Fine woman!" - -"Who?" I shouted back. - -"Aggie." - -"Why, yes. I suppose she--was." - -"No nonsense!" he yelled. "Husband was a brute! Marry her myself! In -a minute--if possible. Ain't possible! Shame! Bet she could make--good -dumplings--apple dumplings! Huh!" - -Uncle Bainbridge is very fond of apple dumplings. His final test of a -woman is her ability to make good apple dumplings. Several women might -have married him had they been able to pass that examination. He can pay -no higher compliment to a woman than to be willing to believe her able -to make good dumplings. - -"Aggie, in there!" he roared again, impatient because I was slow -in answering. "Dumplings! That kind of woman--could have made--good -dumplings!" - -I felt, somehow, that it was going a bit too far to imagine Lady Agatha -at so plebeian a task as making apple dumplings. - -"Uncle Bainbridge," I shouted, "the upper classes--in England--can't -make--apple dumplings!" - -Even as I shouted I was aware that some bypasser, startled at our loud -voices, was pausing just outside the gate. I turned to encounter for -a moment the haughty glare of the most English-looking elderly woman -I have ever seen. She had a large, high nose, and she was a large, -high-looking handsome woman generally. She said no word to me; but as -she stared her lips moved ever so slightly. I fancied that to herself -she said, "Indeed!" I have never felt more utterly superfluous, more -abjectly American. She turned from me with an air that denied my -existence, a manner that indicated that such things as I _could not_ -exist, and it would be foolish to try to make her believe they did -exist. She bowed to Uncle Bainbridge, smiled as he returned her bow, and -passed on. Uncle Bainbridge's eyes followed her admiringly. - -"'Mother fine woman!" he thundered, so that she must have heard him. -"Friend of mine! Sensible woman! No frills!" - -I tried to ask him who she was, when and where he had become acquainted -with her, and a dozen other questions; but Uncle Bainbridge unplugged -himself, cutting off all communication with the outer world, and -resolutely refused any information. That he should know the lady did not -surprise me, however. It had happened several times since we had been -in England that Uncle Bainbridge had become friendly with people whom -we did not know. We never got from him any exact idea as to the social -status of these persons, and indeed we always found that he had no -really definite ideas on that subject to communicate. - -Our dear Lady Agatha was almost the only English friend my wife and I -had made. - -My wife and I were very well contented that Uncle Bainbridge's feeling -for Lady Agatha should grow stronger and stronger. We argued that while -he was so intimately friendly with dear Lady Agatha he would not be so -likely to fall a prey to any person who might want to marry him for his -wealth. So we decided to encourage the friendship in every way possible, -and would have been only too glad to have it go on indefinitely. - -"I feel so at peace about Uncle Bainbridge now," was the way my wife -expressed it, "with him and dear Lady Agatha so wrapped up in each -other." - -But this cheerful condition of affairs was not destined to last many -weeks. One day my wife received a letter from her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwood. Cousin Sophia was in London, and would be with us on the -coming Saturday. She had spoken of the possibility of paying us a visit -while we were in England, and of course we had urged her to do so; -although at the time the possibility had seemed rather remote to us. - -Miss Sophia was past her first youth, but still very girlish at times. -Under her girlishness there was a grim determination. She had made up -her mind to marry Uncle Bainbridge. My wife, as I have already said, -had been inclined to favour the idea, since it would keep strangers from -getting hold of Uncle Bainbridge's money. But now that Uncle Bainbridge -and Lady Agatha were getting along so well together my wife had begun -to hope that Uncle Bainbridge would never marry anybody. We both thought -the friendship might become an ideal, but none the less overmastering, -passion; one of those sacred things, you know, of the sort that keeps a -man single all his life. If Uncle Bainbridge remained unmarried out of -regard for Lady Agatha, we agreed, it would be much better for him at -his time of life than to wed Miss Sophia. - -So we both considered Miss Sophia's visit rather inopportune. Not -that we felt that Uncle Bainbridge was predisposed toward her. On the -contrary, he had always manifested more fear than affection for -her. But, I repeat, she was a determined woman. The quality of her -determination needed no better evidence than the fact that she had, to -put it vulgarly, pursued her quarry across the seas. It was evident -that the citadel of Uncle Bainbridge's heart was to undergo a terrible -assault. As for him, when he heard she was coming, he only emitted a -noncommittal snort. - -Miss Sophia, when she arrived, had apparently put in the months since we -had seen her in resolute attempts at rejuvenation. She was more girlish -than I had known her in fifteen years. And she had set up a lisp. She -greeted Uncle Bainbridge impulsively, effusively. - -"You dear man," she shrilled into his telephone, "you don't detherve -it, but gueth what I've brought you all the way acroth the ocean! A new -rethipe for apple dumplings!" - -"How?" said Uncle Bainbridge. "What say?" And when she repeated it he -said "Umph!" disconnected himself, and blew his nose loudly. He rarely -said anything to her but "Umph!" walking away afterward with now and -then a worried backward glance. - -When we told Miss Sophia about Lady Agatha, and she finally understood -the intimacy that had grown up between Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge, -she looked reproachfully at my wife, as if to say, "You have been -a traitor to my cause!" And then she announced very primly, quite -forgetting her lisp, "I am quite sure that I, for one, do not care to -make the acquaintance of this person!" - -"Cousin Sophia," said my wife sharply, "what do you mean by that?" - -"I think, Cousin Marian, that my meaning is sufficiently clear." - -"You forget," rejoined my wife icily, "that dear Lady Agatha is our -guest." - -Miss Sophia sniffed, and was silent. - -"Besides," continued Marian, "what can you possibly have against her?" - -"Marian," said Miss Sophia, "will you answer me one question?" - -"Perhaps, Cousin Sophia." - -"Cousin Marian, where, I ask you, _where_ is Sir Arthur Pelham?" - -"Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?" My wife was genuinely puzzled -by the question, and so was I. - -"Exactly!" And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. "How should you know? -I imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the -circumstances, has not been very communicative." - -"But, Cousin Sophia----" I began. - -She interrupted me. "Cousin Henry," she said, "do you mean to say that -you approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married -woman entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady -Agatha Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are -susceptible when skillfully practised upon--especially with arts which I -have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry, shameless! -If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see that the -children were sent back to America before they become contaminated by -this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been so -corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous -relationship!" - -"I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia," I ventured, "and for the -life of me I cannot see anything wrong." - -It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am -bound to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur -had been alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady -Agatha forming any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir -Arthur had been in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, -she would have exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a -close friendship with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and -Lady Agatha were in the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir -Arthur. - -"Aristocrat or not," she said, "she is indelicate, she is unladylike, -she is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to -whom she is not married." - -"I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!" said my wife, white with -anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting. - -"It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such -a brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course," said -Cousin Sophia. - -I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to -the winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she -might as well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my -wife is her only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be -permanent; for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far -many times before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got -over their temper. - -Miss Sophia, although certain now that she would receive no assistance -from my wife in her siege of Uncle Bainbridge, did not swerve from her -determination to subjugate him. I imagine it is rather difficult to give -battle when your rival is a ghost: the very intangibility of the tie -makes it hard to attack. Yet the person who is in the earth life has -certain advantages also. I do not know whether I have mentioned it -or not, but Miss Sophia could scarcely be called beautiful. One after -another, all her life, she had seen men upon whom she had set her -affection become the husbands of other women, and in her duel with the -ghost there was a quality of desperation that made the struggle, -every move of which I watched, extremely interesting. In spite of her -announcement that she did not care to meet Lady Agatha, she learned the -code by which she communicated with us, and did not absent herself from -our gatherings in the library. - -Miss Sophia must have been desperate indeed, or she would not have -resorted to the trick she used. About a week after Miss Sophia's arrival -Lady Agatha suddenly ceased to communicate with us. We grew alarmed, -wondering what could have happened to her, as the days passed and the -friendly rappings were not resumed. In the light of what happened later -I am sure that Miss Sophia deliberately drove Lady Agatha away. What -method she used I do not know. But if she had said to Lady Agatha -directly the things that she had said to us about her, the insult would -have been quite sufficient to make that proud and gentle spirit take her -departure. Likely Miss Sophia got into communication with Lady Agatha -and hurled at her the bitter question, "Where is Sir Arthur Pelham?" -Lady Agatha was not the person to enter into any vulgar quarrel, nor yet -to vouchsafe explanations concerning her personal affairs. - -Several days after Lady Agatha fell silent I heard Uncle Bainbridge -bellowing forth questions in the library. I was outside the house near -the library window, which was open. Thinking joyously that Lady Agatha -had returned to us, I stepped nearer to the window to make sure. I saw -at once, as I peeped in, that the bookcase, which set very near the -window, had been slightly moved. Miss Sophia, who was very thin, had -managed to introduce herself into the triangular space behind it--I had -mentioned that it set diagonally across one corner. She was -crouched upon the floor rapping out a conversation with Uncle -Bainbridge--impersonating Lady Agatha! Uncle Bainbridge, in front of the -bookcase, was apparently unsuspicious; nor did Miss Sophia suspect that -I saw her through the half-inch of window that commanded her hiding -place. - -"You must marry!" rapped Miss Sophia, in the character of Lady Agatha. - -"Who?" bellowed Uncle Bainbridge. - -"Miss Sophia Calderwood," said the fake ghost. - -"Aggie, I'm hanged if I do!" yelled Uncle Bainbridge. "Ask -me--something--easy!" - -"Hiram, listen carefully," began the false Lady Agatha. Then she told -him that this would be their last interview. Circumstances over which -she had no control compelled her to depart. She was to assume another -phase of existence upon another plane. She could not explain to him so -that he would understand. But her interest in him would never flag. -And she knew that he would be happier wedded to some good woman. It was -apparent to her that Miss Sophia would make him the ideal wife. He -would soon learn to love Miss Sophia. She had considerable difficulty in -getting the promise; but finally Uncle Bainbridge snorted out a pledge -that he would marry, and stumped away. - -That night he went to London. It was a week before he returned. I did -not communicate what I had seen and heard to Marion. The truth was, I -felt rather sorry for Miss Sophia. To resort to such a trick she must -have been desperate indeed. I tried to imagine what her life had been, -and not condemn her too harshly. And besides, if she was to marry Uncle -Bainbridge, which seemed settled now, I did not care to have her aware -that I knew her secret. - -During the absence of Uncle Bainbridge she became quietly radiant, as -befits one who knows that the battle is won. She was evidently certain -that he would speak definitely upon his return. - -The night that he came back he gathered us all about him in the library. -"Something to say! Important!" he shouted. - -We all assumed attitudes of attention. - -"Thinking maybe--get married!" said Uncle Bainbridge. It was just like -Uncle Bainbridge to announce the matter in the lady's presence before -having formally asked her; but I felt that it was a trifle hard on Miss -Sophia. But a glance at her reassured me on that score. She was flushed; -but it was the flush of triumph rather than the flush of embarrassment. - -"Bought a brewery!" said Uncle Bainbridge. "Good brewery! Good beer! -Like English beer! Like English people!" - -1 felt that this was a little irrelevant, and I am sure that Miss Sophia -felt the same way. - -"Bought a castle!" said Uncle Bainbridge, warming to the work. "Fine -castle! Like castles! Fix it up! Live in it! Settle here! Like England! -Fine country." - -"A castle! Oh, how lovely!" shrilled Miss Sophia, clapping her hands -girlishly. "How lovely for all of us!" - -"Not invited!" roared Uncle Bainbridge, taking us all in with one -sweeping gesture. "None of you!" - -There was silence for a moment. - -"Going to get married!" said Uncle Bainbridge, rising to his feet. "Not -Sophia! Caught Sophia--behind bookcase! Knew all the time! Sneaky trick! -Marry fine woman! Henry saw her--over the fence that day! Fine woman! -Curate's mother here! Dumplings! Fine dumplings! Learned to make 'em -for me! She don't want--to get too thick--with any my relations! She -says--all of you--are too American!" - -And as Uncle Bainbridge blew his nose loudly and sat down there was a -sudden rattle of rapping from the bookcase: nothing so articulate as -a remark in the code, but a sound more like a ripple of well-bred -laughter. This was the last we ever heard from Lady Agatha, and I have -sometimes wondered just what she meant by it. It is so hard, sometimes, -to understand just what the English are laughing at. - - - - -THE SADDEST MAN - -The bench, the barrel, and the cracker box in front of Hennery McNabb's -general store held three men, all of whom seemed to be thinking. Two of -them were not only thinking but chewing tobacco as well. The third, -more enterprising than the other two, more active, was exerting himself -prodigiously. He was thinking, chewing tobacco, and whittling all at the -same time. - -Two of the men were native and indigenous to Hazel-ton. They drew their -sustenance from the black soil of the Illinois prairie on which the -little village was perched. They were as calm and placid as the -growing corn in the fields round about, as solid and self-possessed and -leisurely as the bull-heads in the little creek down at the end of Main -Street. - -The third man was a stranger, somewhere between six and eight feet high -and so slender that one might have expected the bones to pop through the -skin, if one's attention had not been arrested by the skin itself. For -he was covered and contained by a most peculiar skin. It was dark and -rubbery-looking rather than leathery, and it seemed to be endowed with -a life of its own almost independent of the rest of the man's anatomy. -When a fly perched upon his cheek he did not raise his hand to brush it -off. The man himself did not move at all. - -But his skin moved. His skin rose up, wrinkled, twitched, rippled -beneath the fly's feet, and the fly took alarm and went away from there -as if an earthquake had broken loose under it. He was a sad-looking man. -He looked sadder than the mummy of an Egyptian king who died brooding on -what a long dry spell lay ahead of him. - -It was this third man of whom the other two men were thinking, this -melancholy stranger who sat and stared through the thick, humid heat of -the July day at nothing at all, with grievous eyes, his ego motionless -beneath the movements of his rambling skin. He had driven up the road -thirty minutes before in a flivver, had bought some chewing tobacco -of Hennery McNabb, and had set himself down in front of the store and -chewed tobacco in silence ever since. - -Finally Ben Grevis, the village grave-digger and janitor of the church, -broke through the settled stillness with a question: - -"Mister," he said, "you ain't done nothing you're afraid of being -arrested for, hev you?" - -The stranger slowly turned his head toward Ben and made a negative sign. -He did not shake his head in negation. He moved the skin of his forehead -from left to right and back again three or four times. And his eyebrows -moved as his skin moved. But his eyes remained fixed and melancholy. - -"Sometimes," suggested Hennery McNabb, who had almost tired himself out -whittling, "a man's system needs overhaulin', same as a horse's needs -drenchin'. I don't aim to push my goods on to no man, but if you was -feelin' anyway sick, inside or out, I got some of Splain's Liniment for -Man and Beast in there that might fix you up." - -"I ain't sick," said the stranger, in a low and gentle voice. - -"I never seen many fellers that looked as sad as you do," volunteered -Ben Grevis. "There was a mighty sad-lookin' tramp, that resembled you -in the face some, was arrested here for bein' drunk eight or nine years -ago, only he wasn't as tall as you an' his skin was different. After -Si Emery, our city marshal, had kep' him in the lock-up over Sunday and -turned him loose again, it come to light he was wanted over in I'way for -killin' a feller with a piece of railroad iron." - -"I ain't killed anybody with any railroad iron over in I'way," said the -lengthy man. And he added, with a sigh: "Nor nowheres else, neither." - -Hennery McNabb, who disagreed with everyone on principle--he was the -Village Atheist, and proud of it--addressed himself to Ben Grevis. "This -feller ain't nigh as sad-lookin' as that tramp looked," said Hennery. -"I've knowed any number of fellers sadder-lookin' than this feller -here." - -"I didn't say this feller here was the saddest-lookin' feller I ever -seen," said Ben Grevis. "All I meant was that he is sadder-lookin' than -the common run of fellers." While Hennery disagreed with all the world, -Ben seldom disagreed with any one but Hennery. They would argue by the -hour, on religious matters, always beginning with Hennery's challenge: -"Ben Grevis, tell me just one thing if you can, _where_ did Cain get his -wife?" and always ending with Ben's statement: "I believe the Book from -kiver to kiver." - -The tall man with the educated skin--it was educated, very evidently, -for with a contraction of the hide on the back of his hand he -nonchalantly picked up a shaving that had blown his way--spoke to Ben -and Hennery in the soft and mild accents that seemed habitual to him: - -"Where did you two see sadder-lookin' fellers than I be?" - -"Over in Indianny," said Hennery, "there's a man so sad that you're one -of these here laughin' jackasses 'longside o' him." - -And, being encouraged, Hennery proceeded. - -This here feller (said Hennery McNabb) lived over in Brown County, -Indianny, but he didn't come from there original. He come from down in -Kentucky some-wheres and his name was Peevy, Bud Peevy. He was one of -them long, lank fellers, like you, stranger, but he wasn't as long and -his skin didn't sort o' wander around and wag itself like it was a tail. - -It was from the mountain districts he come. I was visitin' a brother of -mine in the county-seat town of Brown County then, and this Bud Peevy -was all swelled up with pride when I first knowed him. He was proud -of two things. One was that he was the champeen corn-licker drinker -in Kentucky. It was so he give himself out. And the other thing he -was prouder yet of. It was the fact, if fact it was, that he was the -Decidin' Vote in a national election--that there election you all -remember, the first time Bryan run for President and McKinley was -elected. - -This here Bud Peevy, you understand, wasn't really sad when I first -knowed him: he only _looked_ sad. His sadness that matched his innard -feelin's up to his outward looks come on to him later. He was all-fired -proud when I first knowed him. He went expandin' and extendin' of -himself around everywheres tellin' them Indianny people how it was him, -personal, that elected McKinley and saved the country from that there -free-silver ruination. And the fuller he was of licker, the longer he -made this here story, and the fuller, as you might say, of increditable -strange events. - -Accordin' to him, on that election day in 1896 he hadn't planned to go -and vote, for it was quite a ways to the polls from his place and his -horse had fell lame and he didn't feel like walkin'. He figgered his -district would go safe for McKinley, anyhow, and he wouldn't need to -vote. He was a strong Republican, and when a Kentuckian is a Republican -there ain't no stronger kind. - -But along about four o'clock in the afternoon a man comes ridin' up to -his house with his horse all a lather of foam and sweat, and the horse -was one of these here Kentucky thoroughbred race horses that must 'a' -travelled nigh a mile a minute, to hear Bud Peevy tell of it, and that -horse gives one groan like a human bein' and falls dead at Bud Peevy's -feet afore the rider can say a word, and the rider is stunned. - -But Bud Peevy knowed him for a Republican county committeeman, and he -poured some corn licker down his throat and he revived to life again. -The feller yells to Bud as soon as he can get his breath to go to town -and vote, quick, as the polls will close in an hour, and everybody else -in that district has voted but Bud, and everyone has been kep' track of, -and the vote is a tie. - -It's twelve miles to the pollin' place from Bud's farm in the hills -and it is a rough country, but Bud strikes out runnin' acrost hills and -valleys with three pints of corn licker in his pockets for to refresh -himself from time to time. Bud, he allowed he was the best runner in -Kentucky, and he wouldn't 'a' had any trouble, even if he did have to -run acrost mountains and hurdle rocks, to make the twelve miles in an -hour, but there was a lot of cricks and rivers in that country and -there had been a gosh-a-mighty big rain the night before and all them -cricks had turned into rivers and all them rivers had turned into -roarin' oceans and Niagara catarac's. But Bud, he allows he is the best -swimmer in Kentucky, and when he comes to a stream he takes a swig of -corn licker and jumps in and swims acrost, boots and all--for he was -runnin' in his big cowhides, strikin' sparks of fire from the mountains -with every leap he made. - -Five times he was shot at by Democrats in the first six miles, and in -the seventh mile the shootin' was almost continual, and three or four -times he was hit, but he kep' on. It seems the Democrats had got wind he -had been sent for to turn the tide and a passel of 'em was out among the -hills with rifles to stop him if they could. But he is in too much of a -hurry to bandy words with 'em, and he didn't have his gun along, which -he regretted, he says, as he is the best gun fighter in Kentucky and he -keeps on a-runnin' and a-swimmin' and a-jumpin' cricks and a-hurdlin' -rocks with the bullets whizzin' around him and the lightnin' strikin' in -his path, for another big storm had come up, and no power on this here -earth could head him off, he says, for it come to him like a Voice from -on High he was the preordained messenger and hero who was goin' to turn -the tide and save the country from this here free-silver ruination. -About two miles from the pollin' place, jist as he jumps into the last -big river, two men plunges into the water after him with dirks, and -one of them he gets quick, but the other one drags Bud under the water, -stabbin' and jabbin' at him. There is a terrible stabbin' and stickin' -battle way down under the water, which is runnin' so fast that big -stones the size of a cow is being rolled down stream, but Bud he don't -mind the stones, and he can swim under water as well as on top of it, he -says, and he's the best knife fighter in Kentucky, he says, and he soon -fixes that feller and swims to shore with his knife in his teeth, and -now he's only got one more mountain to cross. - -But a kind of hurricane has sprung up and turned into a cyclone in there -among the hills, and as he goes over the top of that last mountain, -lickety-split, in the dark and wind and rain, he blunders into a whole -passel of rattlesnakes that has got excited by the elements. But he fit -his way through 'em, thankin' God he had nearly a quart of licker left -to take for the eight or ten bites he got, and next there rose up in -front of him two of them big brown bears, and they was wild with rage -because the storm had been slingin' boulders at 'em. One of them bears -he sticked with his knife and made short work of, but the other one give -him quite a tussel, Bud says, afore he conquered it and straddled it. -And it was a lucky thing for him, he says, that he caught that bear -in time, for he was gittin' a leetle weak with loss of blood and snake -bites and battlin' with the elements. Bud, he is the best rider in -Kentucky, and it wasn't thirty seconds afore that bear knowed a master -was a-ridin' of it, and in five minutes more Bud, he gallops up to that -pollin' place, right through the heart of the hurricane, whippin' that -bear with rattlesnakes to make it go faster, and he jumps off and cracks -his boot heels together and gives a yell and casts the decidin' vote -into the ballot box. He had made it with nearly ten seconds to spare. - -Well, accordin' to Bud Peevy that there one vote carries the day for -McKinley in that county and not only in that county alone, but in that -electorial district, and that electorial district gives McKinley the -State of Kentucky, which no Republican had ever carried Kentucky for -President for afore. And two or three other States was hangin' back -keepin' their polls open late to see how Kentucky would go, and when -it was flashed by telegraph all over the country that Bud Peevy was -carryin' Kentucky for McKinley, them other States joined in with -Kentucky and cast their electorial votes that-a-way, too, and McKinley -was elected President. - -So Bud figgers he has jist naturally elected that man President and -saved the country--he is the one that was the Decidin' Vote for this -whole derned republic. And, as I said, he loves to tell about it. It was -in 1896 that Bud saved the country and it was in 1900 that he moved to -Brown County, Indianny, and started in with his oratin' about what a -great man he was, and givin' his political opinions about this, that -and the other thing, like he might 'a' been President himself. Bein' the -Decidin' Vote that-a-way made him think he jist about run this country -with his ideas. - -He's been hangin' around the streets in his new home, the county town of -Brown County, for five or six weeks, in the summer of 1900, tellin' what -a great feller he is, and bein' admired by everybody, when one day the -news comes that the U. S. Census for 1900 has been pretty nigh finished, -and that the Centre of Population for the whole country falls in Brown -County. Well, you can understand that's calculated to make folks in that -county pretty darned proud. - -But the proudest of them all was a feller by the name of Ezekiel -Humphreys. It seems these here government sharks had it figgered out -that the centre of population fell right on to where this here Zeke -Humphrey's farm was, four or five miles out of town. - -And Zeke, he figgers that he, himself, personal, has become the Centre -of Population. - -Zeke hadn't never been an ambitious man. He hadn't never gone out and -courted any glory like that, nor schemed for it nor thought of it. But -he was a feller that thought well enough of himself, too. He had been a -steady, hard-workin' kind of man all his life, mindin' his own business -and payin' his debts, and when this here glory comes to him, bein' chose -out of ninety millions of people, as you might say, to be the one and -only Centre of Population, he took it as his just due and was proud of -it. - -"You see how the office seeks the man, if the man is worthy of it!" -says Zeke. And everybody liked Zeke that knowed him, and was glad of his -glory. - -Well, one day this here Decidin' Vote, Bud Peevy, comes to town to -fill himself up on licker and tell how he saved the country, and he is -surprised because he don't get nobody to listen to him. And pretty soon -he sees the reason for it. There's a crowd of people on Main Street all -gathered around Zeke Humphreys and all congratulatin' him on being the -Centre of Population. And they was askin' his opinion on politics and -things. Zeke is takin' it modest and sensible, but like a man that -knowed he deserved it, too. Bud Peevy, he listens for a while, and he -sniffs and snorts, but nobody pays any 'tention to him. Finally, he -can't keep his mouth shut any longer, and he says: - -"Politics! Politics! To hear you talk, a fellow'd think you really got a -claim to talk about politics!" - -Zeke, he never was any trouble hunter, but he never run away from it, -neither. - -"Mebby," says Zeke, not het up any, but right serious and -determined-like, "mebby you got more claim to talk about politics than I -have?" - -"I shore have," says Bud Peevy. "I reckon I got more claim to be -hearkened to about politics than any other man in this here whole -country. I'm the Decidin' Vote of this here country, I am!" - -"Well, gosh-ding my melts!" says Zeke Humphreys. "You ain't proud of -yourself, nor nothin', are you?" - -"No prouder nor what I got a right to be," says Bud Peevy, "considerin' -what I done." - -"Oh, yes, you be!" says Zeke Humphreys. "You been proudin' yourself -around here for weeks now all on account o' that decidin' vote business. -And _anybody_ might 'a' been a Decidin' Vote. A Decidin' Vote don't -amount to nothin' 'longside a Centre of Population." - -"Where would your derned population be if I hadn't went and saved this -here country for 'em?" asks Bud Peevy. - -"Be?" says Zeke. "They'd be right where they be now, if you'd never been -born nor heard tell on, that's where they'd be. And I'd be the centre of -'em, jist like I be now!" - -"And what _air_ you now?" says Bud Peevy, mighty mean and -insultin'-like. "You ain't nothin' but a accident, you ain't! What I -got, I fit for and I earnt. But you ain't nothin' but a happenin'!" - -Them seemed like mighty harsh words to Zeke, for he figgered his glory -was due to him on account of the uprighteous life he always led, and so -he says: - -"Mister, anybody that says I ain't nothin' but a happenin' is a liar." - -"1 kin lick my weight in rattlesnakes," yells Bud Peevy, "and I've done -it afore this! And I tells you once again, and flings it in your face, -that you ain't nothin' but a accidental happenin'!" - -"You're a liar, then!" says Zeke. - -With that Bud Peevy jerks his coat off and spits on to his hands. - -"Set yo'self, man," says he; "the whirlwind's cornin'!" And he makes -a rush at Zeke. Bud is a good deal taller'n Zeke, but Zeke is sort o' -bricky-red and chunky like a Dutch Reformed Church, and when this here -Peevy comes on to him with a jump Zeke busts him one right on to the -eye. It makes an uncheerful noise like 1 heard one time when Dan Lively, -the butcher acrost the street there, hit a steer in the head with a -sledge hammer. Bud, he sets down sudden, and looks surprised out of -the eye that hadn't went to war yet. But he must 'a' figgered it was a -accident for he don't set there long. He jumps up and rushes again. - -"I'm a wildcat! I'm a wildcat!" yells this here Bud. And Zeke, he -collisions his fist with the other eye, and Bud sets down the second -time. I won't say this here Zeke's hands was as big as a quarter of -beef. The fact is, they wasn't that big. But I seen that fight myself, -and there was somethin' about the size and shape of his fist when it -was doubled up that kind o' _reminded_ me of a quarter of beef. Only his -fists was harder than a quarter of beef. I guess Zeke's fists was about -as hard as a hickory log that has been gettin' itself soaked and dried -and seasoned for two or three years. I heard a story about Zeke and a -mule that kicked him one time, but I didn't see it myself and I dunno' -as it's all true. The word was that Zeke jist picked up that mule after -it kicked him and frowned at it and told it if it ever done that again -he would jist naturally pull off the leg that it kicked him with -and turn it loose to hop away on three legs, and he cuffed that mule -thorough and thoughtful and then he took it by one hind leg and fore leg -and jounced it against a stone barn and told it to behave its fool self. -It always seemed to me that story had been stretched a mite, but that -was one of the stories they telled on Zeke. - -But this here Bud Peevy is game. He jumps up again with his two eyes -lookin' like a skillet full of tripe and onions and makes another rush -at Zeke. And this time he gets his hands on to Zeke and they rastles -back and forth. But Bud, while he is a strong fellow, he ain't no ways -as strong as a mule even if he is jist as sudden and wicked, so Zeke -throws him down two or three times. Bud, he kicks Zeke right vicious -and spiteful into the stomach, and when he done that Zeke began to get -a little cross. So he throwed Bud down again and this time he set on top -of him. - -"Now, then," says Zeke, bangin' Bud's head on to the sidewalk, "am I a -happenin', or am I on purpose?" - -"Lemme up," says Bud. "Leggo my whiskers and lemme up! You ain't licked -me any, but them ol' wounds I got savin' this country is goin' to bust -open ag'in. I kin feel 'em bustin'." - -"I didn't start this," says Zeke, "but I'm a-goin' to finish it. Now, -then, am I a accident, or was I meant?" - -"It's a accident you ever got me down," says Bud, "Whether you are a -accident yourself or not." - -Zeke jounces his head on the sidewalk some more and he says: "You answer -better nor that! You go further! You tell me whether I'm on purpose or -not!" - -"You was meant for somethin'," says Bud, "but you can't make me say -what! You can bang my head off and I won't say what. Two or three of -them bullets went into my neck right where you're bendin' it and I feel -them ol' wounds bustin' open." - -"I don't believe you got no ol' wounds," says Zeke, "and I don't believe -you ever saved no country and I'm gonna keep you here till I've banged -some sense and politeness into your head." - -Bud, he gives a yell and a twist, and bites Zeke's wrist; Zeke slapped -him some, and Bud ketched one of Zeke's fingers into his mouth and nigh -bit it off afore Zeke got it loose. Zeke, he was a patient man and right -thoughtful and judicious, but he had got kind o' cross when Bud kicked -him into the stomach, and now this biting made him a leetle mite -crosser. I cal'ated if Bud wasn't careful he'd get Zeke really riled up -pretty soon and get his fool self hurt. Zeke, he takes Bud by the ears -and slams his head till I thought the boards in that sidewalk was goin' -to be busted. - -"Now, then," says Zeke, lettin' up for a minute, "has the Centre of -Population got a right to talk politics, or ain't he? You say he is got -a right, or I mebby will fergit myself and get kind o' rough with you." - -"This here country I saved is a free country," says Bud Peevy, kind o' -sick an' feeble, "and any one that lives in this here country I saved -has got a right to talk politics, I reckon." - -Zeke, he took that for an answer and got good-natured and let Bud up. -Bud, he wipes the blood off'n his face and ketches his breath an' gits -mean again right away. - -"If my constitution hadn't been undermined savin' this here country," -says Bud, "you never could 'a' got me down like that! And you ain't -heard the end of this argyment yet, neither! I'm a-goin' for my gun, and -we'll shoot it out!" - -But the townspeople interfered and give Bud to understand he couldn't -bring no guns into a fight, like mebby he would 'a' done in them -mountain regions he was always talkin' about; an' told him if he was to -start gunnin' around they would get up a tar-and-feather party and he -would be the reception committee. They was all on Zeke's side and they'd -all got kind o' tired listenin' to Bud Peevy, anyhow. Zeke was their own -hometown man, and so they backed him. All that glory had come to Brown -County and they wasn't goin' to see it belittled by no feller from -another place. - -Bud Peevy, for two or three weeks, can't understand his glory has left -him, and he goes braggin' around worse than ever. But people only grins -and turns away; nobody will hark to him when he talks. When Bud tries -to tell his story it gets to be quite the thing to look at him and -say: "Lemme up! Leggo my whiskers! Lemme up!"--like he said when Zeke -Humphreys had him down. And so it was he come to be a byword around -town. Kids would yell at him on the street, to plague him, and he would -get mad and chase them kids, and when folks would see him runnin' after -the kids they would yell: "Hey! Hey, Bud Peevy! You could go faster if -you was to ride a bear!" Or else they would yell: "Whip yourself with a -rattlesnake, Bud, and get up some speed!" - -His glory had been so big and so widespread for so long that when it -finally went, there jist wasn't a darned thing left to him. His heart -busted in his bosom. He wouldn't talk about nothin'. He jist slinked -around. He was most pitiful because he wasn't used to misfortune like -some people. - -And he couldn't pack up his goods and move away from that place. For he -had come there to live with a married daughter and his son-in-law, and -if he left there he would have to get a steady job working at somethin' -and support himself. And Bud didn't want to risk that. For that wild run -he made the time he saved the country left him strained clean down to -the innards of his constitution, he says, and he wa'n't fit to work. But -the thing that put the finishing touches on to him was when a single -daughter that he had fell into love with Zeke Humphreys, who was a -widower, and married herself to him. His own flesh and blood has -disowned him, Bud says. So he turns sad, and he was the saddest man 1 -ever seen. He was sadder than you look to be, stranger. - -The stranger with the educated skin breathed a gentle sigh at the -conclusion of Hennery's tale of the Deciding Vote and the Centre of -Population, and then he said: - -"I don't doubt Bud Peevy was a sad man. But there's sadder things -than what happened to Bud Peevy. There's things that touches the heart -closer." - -"Stranger," said Ben Grevis, "you've said it! But Hennery, here, don't -know anything about the heart bein' touched." - -Hennery McNabb seemed to enjoy the implication, rather than to resent -it. Ben Grevis continued: - -"A sadder thing than what happened to Bud Peevy is goin' on a good deal -nearer home than Indianny. - -"I ain't the kind of a feller that goes running to Indianny and to -Kentucky and all over the known earth for examples of sadness, nor -nothin' else. We got as good a country right here in Illinois as there -is on top of the earth and I'm one that always sticks up for home folks -and home industries. Hennery, here, ain't got any patriotism. And he -ain't got any judgment. He don't know what's in front of him. But right -here in our home county, not five miles from where we are, sets a case -of sadness that is one of the saddest I ever seen or knowed about. - -"Hennery, here, he don't know how sad it is, for he's got no finer -feelin's. A free thinker like Hennery can't be expected to have no finer -feelin's. And this case is a case of a woman." - -"A woman!" sighed the stranger. "If a woman is mixed up with it, it -could have finer feelin's and sadness in it!" And a ripple of melancholy -ran over him from head to foot. - -This here woman (said Ben Grevis) lives over to Hickory Grove, in the -woods, and everybody for miles around calls her Widder Watson. - -Widder Watson, she has buried four or five husbands, and you can see her -any day that it ain't rainin' settin' in the door of her little -house, smokin' of her corn-cob pipe, and lookin' at their graves and -speculatin' and wonderin'. I talked with her a good deal from time -to time durin' the last three or four years, and the things she is -speculatin' on is life and death, and them husbands she has buried, -and children. But that ain't what makes her so sad. It's wishin' for -somethin' that, it seems like, never can be, that is makin' her so sad. - -She has got eighteen or twenty children, Widder Watson has, runnin' -around them woods. Them woods is jist plumb full of her children. You -wouldn't dare for to try to shoot a rabbit anywhere near them woods for -fear of hittin' one. - -And all them children has got the most beautiful and peculiar names, -that Widder Watson got out of these here drug-store almanacs. She's been -a great reader all her life, Widder Watson has, but all her readin' has -been done in these here almanacs. You know how many different kinds -of almanacs there always are layin' around drug-stores, I guess. Well, -every two or three months Widder Watson goes to town and gets a new -bale of them almanacs and then she sets and reads 'em. She goes to -drug-stores in towns as far as twelve or fifteen miles away to keep -herself supplied. - -She never cared much for readin' novels and story papers, she tells me. -What she wants is somethin' that has got some true information in it, -about the way the sun rises, and the tides in the oceans she has never -saw, and when the eclipses is going to be, and different kinds of -diseases new and old, and receipts for preserves and true stories about -how this or that wonderful remedy come to be discovered. Mebby it was -discovered by the Injuns in this country, or mebby it was discovered -by them there Egyptians in the old country away back in King Pharaoh's -time, and mebby she's got some of the same sort of yarbs and plants -right there in her own woods. Well, Widder Watson, she likes that kind -o' readin', and she knows all about the Seven Wonders of the World, and -all the organs and ornaments inside the human carcass, and the kind o' -pains they are likely to have and all about what will happen to you if -the stars says this or that and how long the Mississippi River is and a -lot of them old-time prophecies of signs and marvels what is to come to -pass yet. You know about what the readin' is in them almanacs, mebby. - -Widder Watson, she has got a natural likin' for fine words, jist the -same as some has got a gift for hand-paintin' or playin' music or -recitin' pieces of poetry or anything like that. And so it was quite -natural, when her kids come along, she names 'em after the names in her -favourite readin' matter. And she gets so she thinks more of the names -of them kids than of nearly anything else. I ain't sayin' she thinks -more of the names than she does of the kids, but she likes the names -right next to the kids. Every time she had a baby she used to sit and -think for weeks and weeks, so she tells me, for to get a good name for -that baby, and select and select and select out of them almanacs. - -Her oldest girl, that everybody calls Zody, is named Zodiac by rights. -And then there's Carty, whose real name is Cartilege, and Anthy, whose -full name is Anthrax, and so on. There's Peruna and Epidermis and -Epidemic and Pisces. - -I dunno as I can remember all them swell names. There's Perry, whose -real name is Perihelion, and there's Whitsuntide and Tonsillitis and -Opodeldoc and a lot more--I never could remember all them kids. - -And there ain't goin' to be no more on 'em, for the fact of the matter -seems to be that Widder Watson ain't likely to ever get another husband. -It's been about four years since Jim Watson, her last one, died, and was -buried in there amongst the hickory second-growth and hazel bushes, and -since that day there ain't nobody come along that road a-courtin' Widder -Watson. And that's what makes her sad. She can't understand it, never -havin' been without a husband for so long before, and she sets and -grieves and grieves and smokes her corn-cob pipe and speculates and -grieves some more. - -Now, don't you get no wrong idea about Widder Watson. She ain't so -all-fired crazy about men. It ain't that. That ain't what makes her -grieve. She is sad because she wants another baby to pin a name to. - -For she has got the most lovely name out of a new almanac for that there -kid that will likely never be born, and she sets there day after day, -and far into the night, lookin' at them graves in the brush, and talkin' -to the clouds and stars, and sayin' that name over and over to herself, -and sighin' and weepin' because that lovely name will be lost and -unknown and wasted forevermore, with no kid to tack it on to. - -And she hopes and yearns and grieves for another man to marry her and -wonders why none of 'em never does. Well, I can see why they don't. The -truth is, Widder Watson don't fix herself up much any more. She goes -barefooted most of the time in warm weather, and since she got so -sad-like she don't comb her hair much. And them corn-cob pipes of hern -ain't none too savory. But I 'spose she thinks of herself as bein' jist -the same way she was the last time she took the trouble to look into the -lookin' glass and she can't understand it. - -"Damn the men, Ben," she says to me, the last time I was by there, -"what's the matter with 'em all? Ain't they got no sense any more? I -never had no trouble ketchin' a man before this! But here I been settin' -for three or four years, with eighty acres of good land acrost the road -there, and a whole passel o' young uns to work it, and no man comes to -court me. There was a feller along here two-three months ago I did -have some hopes on. He come a-palaverin' and a-blarneyin' along, and he -stayed to dinner and I made him some apple dumplin's, and he et an' et -and palavered. - -"But it turned out he was really makin' up to that gal, Zody, of mine. -It made me so darned mad, Ben, I runned him off the place with Jeff -Parker's shotgun that is hangin' in there, and then I took a hickory -sprout to that there Zody and tanned her good, for encouragin' of him. -You remember Jeff Parker, Ben? He was my second. You wasn't thinkin' of -gettin' married ag'in yourself, was you, Ben?" - -I told her I wasn't. That there eighty acres is good land, and they -ain't no mortgages on it, nor nothin', but the thought of bein' added to -that collection in amongst the hazel brush and hickory sprouts is enough -for to hold a man back. And the Widder Watson, she don't seem to realize -she orter fix herself up a little mite. But I'm sorry for her, jist -the same. There she sets and mourns, sayin' that name over and over -to herself, and a-grievin' and a-hopin', and all the time she knows it -ain't much use to hope. And a sadder sight than you will see over -there to Hickory Grove ain't to be found in the whole of the State of -Illinois. - -"That is a mighty sad picture you have drawed," said the stranger, when -Ben Grevis had finished, "but I'm a sadder man for a man than that there -woman is for a woman." - -He wrinkled all over, he almost grinned, if one could think of him as -grinning, when he mentioned "that there woman." It was as if he tasted -some ulterior jest, and found it bitter, in connection with "that there -woman." After a pause, in which he sighed several times, he remarked in -his tired and gentle voice: - -"There's two kinds of sadness, gentlemen. There is the melancholy -sadness that has been with you for so long that you have got used to -it and kind o' enjoy it in a way. And then there's the kind o' sadness -where you go back on yourself, where you make your own mistakes and fall -below your own standards, and that is a mighty bitter kind of sadness." - -He paused again, while the skin wreathed itself into funeral wreaths -about his face, and then he said, impressively: - -"Both of them kinds of sadness I have known. First I knowed the -melancholy kind, and now I know the bitter kind." - -The first sadness that I had lasted for years (said the stranger with -the strange skin). It was of the melancholy kind, tender and sort o' -sweet, and if I had been the right kind of a man I would 'a' stuck to it -and kept it. But I went back on it. I turned my face away from it. And -in going back on it I went back on all them old, sad, sweet memories, -like the songs tell about, that was my better self. And that is what -caused the sadness I am in the midst of now. It's the feelin' that I -done wrong in turnin' away from all them memories that makes me as sad -as you see me to-day. I will first tell you how the first sadness come -on to me, and secondly I will tell you how I got the sadness I am in the -midst of now. - -Gentlemen, mebby you have noticed that my skin is kind o' different from -most people's skin. That is a gift, and there was a time when I made -money off'n that gift. And I got another gift. I'm longer and slimmer -than most persons is. And besides them two gifts, I got a third gift. I -can eat glass, gentlemen, and it don't hurt me none. I can eat glass as -natural and easy as a chicken eats gravel. And them three gifts is my -art. - -I was an artist in a side-show for years, gentlemen, and connected with -one of the biggest circuses in the world. I could have my choice of -three jobs with any show I was with, and there ain't many could say -that. I could be billed as the India Rubber Man, on account of my skin, -or I could be billed as the Living Skeleton, on account of my framework, -or I could be billed as the Glass Eater. And once or twice I was billed -as all three. - -But mostly I didn't bother much with eating glass or being a Living -Skeleton. Mostly I stuck to being an India Rubber Man. It always seemed -to me there was more art in that, more chance to show talent and genius. -The gift that was given to me by Providence I developed and trained -till I could do about as much with my skin as most people can with their -fingers. It takes constant work and practice to develop a skin, even -when Nature has been kind to you like she has to me. - -For years I went along contented enough, seein' the country and being -admired by young and old, and wondered at and praised for my gift and -the way I had turned it into an art, and never thinkin' much of women -nor matrimony nor nothing of that kind. - -But when a man's downfall is put off, it is harder when it comes. When -I fell in love I fell good and hard. I fell into love with a pair of -Siamese twins. These here girls was tied together somewheres about the -waist line with a ligament of some kind, and there wasn't no fake about -it--they really was tied. On account of motives of delicacy I never -asked 'em much about that there ligament. The first pair of twins like -that who was ever on exhibition was from Siam, so after that they called -all twins of that kind Siamese twins. But these girls wasn't from none -of them outlandish parts; they was good American girls, born right over -in Ohio, and their names was Jones. Hetty Jones and Netty Jones was -their names. - -Hetty, she was the right-hand twin, and Netty was the left-hand twin. -And you never seen such lookers before in your life, double nor single. -They was exactly alike and they thought alike and they talked alike. -Sometimes when I used to set and talk to 'em I felt sure they was -just one woman. If I could 'a' looked at 'em through one of these here -stereoscopes they would 'a' come together and been one woman, I never -had any idea about 'em bein' two women. - -Well, I courted 'em, and they was mighty nice to me, both of 'em. I used -to give 'em candy and flowers and little presents and I would set and -admire 'em by the hour. I kept gettin' more and more into love with -them. And I seen they was gettin' to like me, too. - -So one day I outs with it. - -"Will you marry me?" says I. - -"Yes," says Hetty. And, "Yes," says Netty. Both in the same breath! And -then each one looked at the other one, and they both looked at me, and -they says, both together: - -"Which one of us did you ask?" - -"Why," says I, kind o' flustered, "there ain't but one of you, is they? -I look on you as practically one woman." - -"The idea!" says Netty. - -"You orter be ashamed of yourself," says Hetty. - -"You didn't think," says Netty, "that you could marry both of us, did -you?" - -Well, all I had really thought up to that time was that I was in love -with 'em, and just as much in love with one as with the other, and -I popped the question right out of my heart and sentiments without -thinking much one way or the other. But now I seen there was going to be -a difficulty. - -"Well," I says, "if you want to consider yourself as two people, I -suppose it would be marryin' both of you. But I always thought of you as -two hearts that beat as one. And I don't see no reason why I shouldn't -marry the two of you, if you want to hold out stubborn that you _are_ -two." - -"For my part," says Hetty, "I think you are insulting." - -"You must choose between us," says Netty. - -"I would never," says Hetty, "consent to any Mormonous goings-on of that -sort." - -They still insisted they was two people till finally I kind o' got to -see their side of the argyment. But how was I going to choose between -them when no matter which one I chooses she was tied tight to the other -one? - -We agreed to talk it over with the Fat Lady in that show, who had a good -deal of experience in concerns of the heart and she had been married -four or five times and was now a widder, having accidental killed her -last husband by rolling over on him in her sleep. She says to me: - -"How happy you could be with either, Skinny, were t'other dear charmer -away!" - -"This ain't no jokin' matter, Dolly," I tells her. "We come for serious -advice." - -"Skinny, you old fool," she says, "there's an easy way out of this -difficulty. All you got to do is get a surgeon to cut that ligament and -then take your choice." - -"But I ain't really got any choice," I says, "for I loves 'em both and I -loves 'em equal. And I don't believe in tamperin' with Nature." - -"It ain't legal for you to marry both of 'em," says the Fat Lady. - -"It ain't moral for me to cut 'em asunder," I says. - -I had a feelin' all along that if they was cut asunder trouble of some -kind would follow. But both Hetty and Netty was strong for it. They -refused to see me or have anything to do with me, they sent me word, -till I give up what they called the insultin' idea of marryin' both of -'em. They set and quarrelled with each other all the time, the Fat -Lady told me, because they was jealous of each other. Bein' where they -couldn't get away from each other even for a minute, that jealousy must -have et into them something unusual. And finally, I knuckled under. I -let myself be overrulled. I seen I would lose both of 'em unless I made -a choice. So I sent 'em word by the Fat Lady that I would choose. But I -knowed deep in my heart all the time that no good would come of it. You -can't go against Scripter and prosper; and the Scripter says: "What God -has joined together, let no man put asunder." - -Well, we fixed it up this way: I was to pay for that there operation, -having money saved up for to do it with, and then I was to make my -choice by chance. The Fat Lady says to toss a penny or something. - -But I always been a kind of a romantic feller, and I says to myself I -will make that choice in some kind of a romantic way. So first I tried -one of these ouija boards, but all I get is "Etty, Etty, Etty," over and -over again, and whether the ouija left off an H or an N there's no way -of telling. The Fat Lady, she says: "Why don't you count 'em out, like -kids do, to find out who is It?" - -"How do you mean?" I asks her. - -"Why," says she, "by saying, 'Eeny meeny, miney, mo!' or else 'Monkey, -monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys have we here?' or something -like that." - -But that ain't romantic enough to suit me and I remember how you pluck a -daisy and say: "She loves me! She loves me not!" And I think I will -get an American beauty rose and do it that way. Well, they had the -operation, and it was a success. And about a week later I'm to go to the -hospital and tell 'em which one has been elected to the holy bonds of -matrimony. I gets me a rose, one of the most expensive that money can -buy in the town we was in, and when I arrive at the hospital I start up -the front steps pluckin' the leaves off and sayin' to myself: "Hetty she -is! Netty she is! Hetty she is!"--and so on. But I never got that rose -all plucked. - -I knowed all along that it was wrong to put asunder what God had joined -together, and I orter stuck to the hunch I had. You can't do anything -to a freak without changing his or her disposition some way. You take -a freak that was born that way and go to operating on him, and if he is -good-natured he'll turn out a grouch, or if he was a grouch he'll turn -out good-natured. I knowed a dog-faced boy one time who was the sunniest -critter you ever seen. But his folks got hold of a lot of money and took -him out of the business and had his features all slicked up and made -over, and what he gained in looks he lost in temper and disposition. -Any tinkering you do around artists of that class will change their -sentiments every time. - -I never got that rose all plucked. At the top of the steps I was met by -Hetty and Netty, just cornin' out of the hospital and not expectin' to -see me. With one of them was a young doctor that worked in the hospital -and with the other was a patient that had just got well. They explained -to me that as soon as they had that operation their sentiments toward me -changed. Before, they had both loved me. Afterwards, neither one of -'em did. They was right sorry about it, they said, but they had married -these here fellows that morning in the hospital, with a double wedding, -and was now starting off on their wedding trips, and their husbands -would pay back the operation money as soon as they had earned it and -saved it up. - -Well, I was so flabbergasted that my skin stiffened up on me, and it -stayed stiff for the rest of that day. I never said a word, but I turned -away from there a sad man with a broken heart in my bosom. And I quit -bein' an artist. I didn't have the sperrit to be in a show any more. - -And through all the years since then I been a saddened man. But as time -went by there come a kind of sweetness into that sadness, too. It is -better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, like -the poet says. I was one of the saddest men in the world, but I sort o' -enjoyed it, after a few years. And all them memories sort o' kept me a -better man. - -I orter stuck to that kind of sweet sadness. I orter knowed that if I -went back on all them beautiful memories of them girls something bitter -would come to me. - -But I didn't, gentlemen. I went back on all that sentiment and that -tenderness. I betrayed all them beautiful memories. Five days ago, I -went and married. Yes, sir, I abandoned all that sweet recollection. -And I been livin' in hell ever since. I been reproachin' myself day and -night for not provin' true and trustworthy to all that romantic sadness -I had all them years. It was a sweet sadness, and I wasn't faithful to -it. And so long as I live now I will have this here bitter sadness. - -The stranger got up and sighed and stretched himself. He took a fresh -chew of tobacco, and began to crank his flivver. - -"Well," said Ben Grevis, "that is a sad story. But I don't know as -you're sadder, at that, than the Widder Watson is." - -The stranger spat colourfully into the road, and again the faint -semblance of a smile, a bitter smile, wreathed itself about his mouth. - -"Yes, I be!" he said, "I be a sadder person than the Widder Watson. It -was her I married!" - - - - -DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) - -If you are a dog of any sense, you will pick you out a pretty good sort -of a boy and stick to him. These dogs that are always adopting one boy -after another get a bad name among the humans in the end. And you'd -better keep in with the humans, especially the grown-up ones. Getting -your scraps off a plate at the back door two or three times a day beats -hunting rabbits and ground-squirrels for a living. - -What a dog wants is a boy anywhere from about nine to about sixteen -years old. A boy under nine hasn't enough sense, as a rule, to be any -company for an intelligent dog. And along about sixteen they begin to -dress up and try to run with the girls, and carry on in a 'way to make -a dog tired. There are exceptions of course--one of the worst mistakes -some dogs make is to suppose that all boys are alike. That isn't true; -you'll find just as much individuality among boys as there is among -us dogs, if you're patient enough to look for it and have a knack for -making friends with animals. But you must remember to be kind to a boy -if you're going to teach him anything; and you must be careful not to -frighten him. - -At the same time, you must keep a boy in his place at once. My -boy--Freckles Watson is his name--understands just how far he can go -with me. But some dogs have to give their boys a lesson now and then. -Jack Thompson, who is a fine, big, good-natured dog, has a boy like -that. The boy's name is Squint--Squint Thompson, he is--and he gets -a little overbearing at times. I remember one Saturday afternoon last -summer in particular. There were a lot of us dogs and boys fooling -around up at Clayton's swimming-hole, including some stray boys with -no dogs to look after them, when Squint began to show off by throwing -sticks into the water and making Jack swim in and get 'em. Jack didn't -mind that, but after a while he got pretty tired and flopped down on the -grass, and wouldn't budge. - -"Grab him by the tail and the scruff of the neck, and pitch him in, -Squint," says my boy, Freckles. "It's a lot of fun to duck a dog." - -Squint went over to where Jack was lying and took hold of the scruff of -Jack's neck. Jack winked at me in his good-natured way, and made a show -of pulling back some, but finally let Squint pitch him into the deepest -part of the swimming-hole. His head went clear under--which is a thing -no dog likes, let alone being picked up that way and tossed about. Every -boy there set up a shout, and when Jack scrambled up the bank, wagging -his tail and shaking the water off himself, the humans all yelled, -"Sling him in again, Squint!" - -Jack trotted over to where he had a bone planted at the foot of a walnut -tree, and began to dig for it. Squint followed, intending to sling him -in again. I wondered if old Jack would stand for any more of it. Jack -didn't; but before he got that fool boy to give up his idea he had to -pretend like he was actually trying to bite him. He threw a good scare -into the whole bunch of them, and then made out like he'd seen a rabbit -off through the trees, and took after it. Mutt Mulligan and I went with -him, and all the boys followed, naked, and whooping like Indians, except -two that stayed behind to tie knots in shirts. When we three dogs had -given the whole bunch of them the slip, we lay down in the grass and -talked. - -"Some day," says Jack to me, "I'm afraid I'm really going to have to -bite that Squint boy, Spot." - -"Don't do it," says I, "he's just a fool boy, and he doesn't really mean -anything by it." - -"The thing to do," says Mutt Mulligan, "is to fire him--just turn him -loose without a dog to his name, and pick up another boy somewhere." - -"But I don't like to give Squint up," says Jack, very thoughtful. "I -think it's my duty to stick to him, even if I have to bite him once or -twice to keep him in his place." - -"You see," Jack went on, "I'm really _fond_ of Squint. I've had him -three years now, and I'm making a regular boy of him. He was a kind of -a sissy when I took charge of him. His folks made him wear long yaller -curls, and they kept him in shoes and stockings even in the summer-time, -and they dressed him up in little blouses, and, say, fellows, you'd -never guess what they called him!" - -"What?" says I. - -"Percival," says Jack. "And they wouldn't let him fight. Well, I've seen -him turn into a real boy, a bit it a time, and I think it's up to me -to stick to the job and help with his education. He chews tobacco now," -says Jack very proudly, "and he can smoke a corncob pipe without getting -sick; and I'll tell you what, Spot, he can lick that Freckles boy of -yours to a frazzle." - -"Huh!" says I, "there's no boy of his age in town that dast to knock a -chip off that Freckles boy's shoulder." - -"Yes, sir," says Jack, ignoring my remark, "that Squint has turned into -some kid, believe me! And the first time I saw him he was a sight. It -was about dusk, one summer afternoon three years ago, and he was sitting -down in the grass by the side of the road six or seven miles from town, -crying and talking to himself. I sat down a little way off and listened. -He had run away from home, and I didn't blame him any, either. Besides -the curls and shoes and stockings I have mentioned, there were other -persecutions. He never went fishing, for instance, unless his father -took him. He didn't dast to play marbles for keeps. They wouldn't let -him have a Flobert rifle, nor even a nigger shooter. There were certain -kids he wasn't allowed to play with--they were too common and dirty -for him, his folks said. So he had run off to go with a circus. He had -hacked off his Fauntleroy curls before he started only he hadn't got -'em very even; but he had forgot to inquire which way to go to find a -circus. He'd walked and walked, and the nearest thing to a circus he had -found was a gipsy outfit, and he had got scared of an old man with brass -rings in his ears, and run, and run, and run. He'd slung his shoes and -stockings away when he started because he hated 'em so, and now he had a -stone bruise, and he was lost besides. And it was getting dark. - -"Well, I felt sorry for that boy. I sat there and watched him, and the -idea came to me that it would be a Christian act to adopt him. He wasn't -a sissy at heart--he had good stuff in him, or he wouldn't have run -away. Besides, I wanted a change; I'd been working for a farmer, and I -was pretty sick of that." - -"It's no life for a dog with any sporting instinct," I said, "farm life -isn't. I've tried it. They keep you so infernally busy with their cows -and sheep and things; and I knew one farm dog that had to churn twice a -week. They stuck him in a treadmill and made him." - -"A farm's no worse than living in a city," said Mutt Mulligan. "A city -dog ain't a real dog; he's either an outcast under suspicion of the -police, or a mama's pet with ribbons tied around his neck." - -"You can't tell me," says Jack. "I know. A country town with plenty of -boys in it, and a creek or river near by, is the only place for a dog. -Well, as I was saying, I felt sorry for Percival, and we made friends. -Pretty soon a man that knew him came by in a buggy, going to town. He -was a doctor, and he stopped and asked Percival if he wasn't pretty far -from home. Percival told him he'd left home for good and for all; but -he sniffled when he said it, and the doctor put him into his buggy and -drove him to town. I drilled along behind. It had been dark quite a -while when we got home, and Percival's folks were scared half to death. -His mother had some extra hysterics when she saw his hair. - -"'Where on earth did you get that ornery-looking yellow mongrel?' says -Percival's father when he caught sight of me. - -"'That's my dog,' says Percival. 'I'm going to keep him.' - -"'I won't have him around,' says his mother. - -"But Percival spunked up and said he'd keep me, and he'd get his hair -shingled tight to his head, or else the next time he ran away he'd make -a go of it. He got a licking for that remark, but they were so glad to -get him back they let him keep me. And from that time on Percival began -to get some independence about him. He ain't Percival now; he's Squint." - -It's true that a dog can help a lot in a boy's education. And I'm proud -of what I've done for Freckles. I will always remember 'one awful time I -had with him, though. I didn't think he'd ever pull through it. All of a -sudden he got melancholy--out of sorts and dreamy. I couldn't figure -out what was the matter with him at first. But I watched him close, and -finally I found out he was in love. He was feeling the disgrace of being -in love pretty hard, too; but he was trying not to show it. The worst -part of it was, he was in love with his school-teacher. She was a Miss -Jones, and an old woman--twenty-two or twenty-three years old, she was. - -Squint and Freckles had a fight over it when Squint found out. Squint -came over to our place one night after supper and whistled Freckles out. -He? says: - -"Say, Freckles, I seen you put an apple on Miss Jones's desk this -morning." - -"You're a liar," says Freckles, "and you dastn't back it." - -"I dast," says Squint. - -"Dastn't," says Freckles. - -"Dast," says Squint. - -"Back it then," says Freckles. - -"Well, then, you're another," says Squint. Which backed it. - -Then Freckles, he put a piece of wood on to his shoulder, and said: - -"You don't dast to knock that chip off." - -"I dast," says Squint. - -"You dastn't," says Freckles. - -Squint made a little push at it. Freckles dodged, and it fell off. -"There," says Squint, "I knocked it off." - -"You didn't; it fell off." - -"Did." - -"Didn't neither." - -"Did teether. Just put it on again, and see if I don't dast to knock it -off." - -"I don't have to put it on again, and you ain't big enough to make me do -it," says Freckles. - -"I can too make you." - -"Can't." - -"Huh, you can't run any sandy over me!" - -"I'll show you whether I can or not!" - -"Come on, then, over back of the Baptist Church, and show me." - -"No, I won't fight in a graveyard." - -"Yah! Yah! Yah!--'fraid of a graveyard at night! Fraid-cat! Fraid-cat! -Fraid-cat!" - -There isn't any kid will stand for that, so they went over to the -graveyard back of the Baptist Church. It was getting pretty dark, too. -I followed them, and sat down on a grave beside a tombstone to watch the -fight. I guess they were pretty much scared of that graveyard, both -of those boys; but us dogs had dug around there too much, making holes -after gophers, and moles, and snakes for me to mind it any. They hadn't -hit each other more than half a dozen times, those boys, when a flea got -hold of me right in the middle of my back, up toward my neck--the place -I never can reach, no matter how hard I dig and squirm. It wasn't one of -my own fleas, by the way it bit; it must have been a tramp flea that -had been starved for weeks. It had maybe come out there with a funeral a -long time before and got lost off of someone, and gone without food ever -since; and while I was rolling around and twisting, and trying to get at -it, I bumped against that tombstone with my whole weight. It was an old -slab, and loose, and it fell right over in the grass with a thud. The -boys didn't know I was there, and when the tombstone fell and I jumped, -they thought ghosts were after them, though I never heard of a ghost -biting anybody yet. It was all I could do to keep up with those boys for -the next five minutes, and I can run down a rabbit. When they stopped, -they were half a mile away, on the schoolhouse steps, hanging on to each -other for comfort. But, after a while they got over their scare, and -Squint said: - -"There ain't any use in you denying that apple, Freckles; two others, -besides me, not counting a girl, saw you put it there." - -"Well," said Freckles, "it's nobody's business." - -"But what I can't make out," says Squint, "is what became of the red -pepper. We knew you wasn't the kind of a softy that would bring apples -to teacher unless they was loaded with cayenne pepper, or something like -that. So we waited around after school to see what would happen when she -bit into it. But she just set at her desk and eat it all up, and slung -the core in the stove, and nothing happened." - -"That's funny," says Freckles. And he didn't say anything more. - -"Freckles," says Squint, "I don't believe you put any red pepper into -that apple." - -"I did," says Freckles. "You're a liar!" - -"Well," says Squint, "what become of it, then?" - -"That's none of your business, what become of it," says Freckles. -"What's it to you what become of it? How do I know what become of it?" - -"Freckles," says Squint, "I believe you're stuck on teacher." - -"You're a liar!" yells Freckles. And this time he was so mad he hit -Squint without further words. They had a beauty of a fight, but finally -Freckles got Squint down on the gravel path, and bumped his head up and -down in the gravel. - -"Now," says he, "did you see any apple?" - -"No," says Squint, "I didn't see any apple." - -"If you had seen one, would there have been pepper in it?" - -"There would have been--le'me up, Freckles." - -"Am I stuck on teacher?" - -"You ain't stuck on anybody--ouch, Freckles, le'me up!" - -Freckles let him up, and then started back toward home, walking on -different sides of the street. About half-way home Freckles crossed the -street, and said: "Squint, if I tell you something, you won't tell?" - -"1 ain't any snitch, Freckles, and you know it." - -"You won't even tell the rest of the Dalton Gang?" - -"Nope." - -"Cross your heart and hope to die?" - -"Sure." - -"Well, set down on the grass here, and I'll tell you." They set down, -and Freckles says: - -"Honest, Squint, it's true--I did take her that apple this morning, and -I'm stuck on her, and there wasn't any pepper in it." - -"Gee, Freckles!" says Squint. - -Freckles only drew in a deep breath. - -"I'm awful sorry for you, Freckles," says Squint, "honest, I am." - -"You always been a good pal, Squint," says Freckles. "Ain't there -anything can be done about it?" - -"Nope," says Freckles. - -"The Dalton Gang could make things so hot for her she'd have to give -up school," says Squint, very hopeful. "If you didn't see her any more, -you'd maybe get over it, Freckles." - -"No, Squint, I don't want her run out." - -"Don't _want_ her run out! Say, Freckles, you don't mean to say you -_like_ being in love with her?" - -"Well," says Freckles, "if I did like it, that would be a good deal of -disgrace, wouldn't it?" - -"Gosh darn her!" says Squint. - -"Well, Squint," says Freckles, "if you call me a softy, I'll lick you -again; but honest, I do kind of like it." And after that disgrace there -wasn't anything more either of them could say. And that disgrace ate -into him more and more; it changed him something awful. It took away -all his spirit by degrees. He got to be a different boy--sort of mooned -around and looked foolish. And he'd blush and giggle if any one said -"Hello" to him. I noticed the first bad sign one Saturday when his -father told him he couldn't go swimming until after he had gone over the -whole patch and picked the bugs off of all the potatoes. He didn't kick -nor play sick; he didn't run away; he stayed at home and bugged those -potatoes; he bugged them very hard and savage; he didn't do two rows, -as usual, and then sneak off through the orchard with me--_no, sir, he -hugged 'em all!_ I lay down at the edge of the patch and watched him, -and thought of old times, and the other dogs and boys down at the creek, -or maybe drowning out gophers, or getting chased by Cy Smith's bull, or -fighting out a bumblebee's nest and putting mud on the stung places, and -it all made me fell mighty sad and downcast. Next day was Sunday, and -they told him he'd get a licking if he chased off after Sunday-school -and played baseball out to the fair-grounds--and he didn't; he came -straight home, without even stopping back of the livery-stable to watch -the men pitch horseshoes. And next day was Monday, and he washed his -neck without being told, and he was on time at school, and he got his -grammar lesson. And worse than that before the day was over, for at -recess-time the members of the Dalton Gang smoked a Pittsburgh stogie, -turn and turn about, out behind the coal-house. Freckles rightly owned -a fifth interest in that stogie, but he gave his turns away without -a single puff. Some of us dogs always hung around the school-yard at -recess-times, and I saw that myself, and it made me feel right bad; it -wasn't natural. And that night he went straight home from school, and he -milked the cow and split the kindling wood without making a kick, and he -washed his feet before he went to bed without being made to. - -"No, sir, it wasn't natural. And he felt his disgrace worse and worse, -and lost his interest in life more and more as the days went by. One -afternoon when I couldn't get him interested in pretending I was going -to chew up old Bill Patterson, I knew there wasn't anything would take -him out of himself. Bill was the town drunkard, and all of us dogs used -to run and bark at him when there were any humans looking on. I never -knew how we got started at it, but it was the fashion. We didn't have -anything against old Bill either, but we let on like we thought he was -a tough character; that is, if any one was looking at us. If we ever -met old Bill toward the edge of town, where no one could see us, we were -always friendly enough with him, too. Bill liked dogs, and used to be -always trying to pet us, and knew just the places where a dog liked to -be scratched, but there wasn't a dog in town would be seen making up to -him. We'd let him think maybe we were going to be friendly, and smell -and sniff around him in an encouraging sort of a way, like we thought -maybe he was an acquaintance of ours, and then old Bill would get real -proud and try to pat our heads, and say: 'The _dogs_ all know old Bill, -all right--yes, sir! _They_ know who's got a good heart and who ain't. -May be an outcast, but the _dogs_ know--yes, sir!" And when he said that -we'd growl and back off, and circle around him, and bristle our backs -up, and act like we'd finally found the man that robbed our family's -chicken-house last week, and run in and snap at Bill's legs. Then all -the boys and other humans around would laugh. I reckon it was kind of -mean and hypocritical in us dogs, too; but you've got to keep the humans -jollied up, and the coarsest kind of jokes is the only kind they seem to -appreciate. But even when I put old Bill through his paces, that -Freckles boy didn't cheer up any. - -The worst of it was that Miss Jones had made up her mind to marry the -Baptist minister, and it was only a question of time before she'd get -him. Every dog and human in our town knew that. Folks used to talk it -over at every meal, or out on the front porches in the evenings, and -wonder how much longer he would hold out. And Freckles used to listen to -them talking, and then sneak off alone and sit down with his chin in his -hands and study it all out. The Dalton Gang--Squint had told the rest of -them, each promising not to tell--was right sympathetic at first. They -offered to burn the preacher's house down if that would do any good. -But Freckles said no, leave the preacher alone. It wasn't _his_ -fault--everyone knew _he_ wouldn't marry Miss Jones if she let him -alone. Then the Daltons said they'd kidnap the teacher if he said -the word. But Freckles said no, that would cause a lot of talk; and, -besides, a grown woman eats an awful lot; and what would they feed her -on? Finally Tom Mulligan--he was Mutt Mulligan's boy--says: - -"What you got to do, Freckles, is make some kind of a noble sacrifice. -That's the way they always do in these here Lakeside Library books. -Something that will touch her heart." - -And they all agree her heart has got to be touched. But how? - -"Maybe," says Squint, "it would touch her heart if the Dalton Gang was -to march in in a body and offer to reform." - -But Tom Mulligan says he wouldn't go _that_ far for any one. And after -about a week the Dalton Gang lost its sympathy and commenced to guy -Freckles and poke fun at him. And then there were fights--two or three -every day. But gradually it got so that Freckles didn't seem to take any -comfort or joy in a fight, and he lost spirits more and more. And pretty -soon he began to get easy to lick. He got so awful easy to lick the -Daltons got tired of licking him, and quit fighting him entirely. And -then the worst happened. One day they served him notice that until he -got his nerve back and fell out of love with Miss Jones again, he would -not be considered a member of the Dalton Gang. But even that didn't jar -him any--Freckles was plumb ruined. - -One day I heard the humans talking it over that the preacher had give -in at last. Miss Jones's pa, and her uncle too, were both big church -members, and he never really had a chance from the first. It was in the -paper, the humans said, that they were engaged, and were to be married -when school was out. Freckles, he poked away from the porch where the -family was sitting when he heard that, and went to the barn and lay down -on a pile of hay. I sat outside the barn, and I could hear him in there -choking back what he was feeling. It made me feel right sore, too, and -when the moon came up I couldn't keep from howling at it; for here was -one of the finest kids you ever saw in there bellering like a girl, and -all because of a no-account woman--a grown-up woman, mind you! I went in -and lay down on the hay beside him, and licked his face, and nuzzled my -head up under his armpit, to show him I'd stand by him anyhow. Pretty -soon he went to sleep there, and after a long while his father came out -and picked him up and carried him into the house to bed. He never waked -up. - -The next day I happened by the schoolhouse along about recess-time. -The boys were playing prisoner's base, and I'm pretty good at that game -myself, so I joined in. When the bell rang, I slipped into Freckles's -room behind the scholars, thinking I'd like a look at that Miss Jones -myself. Well, she wasn't anything Yd go crazy over. When she saw me, -there was the deuce to pay. - -"Whose dog is that?" she sings out. - -"Please, ma'am," squeals a little girl, "that is Harold Watson's dog, -Spot." - -"Harold Watson," says she to Freckles, "don't you know it's strictly -against the rules to bring dogs to school?" - -"Yes'm," says Freckles, getting red in the face. - -"Then why did you do it?" - -"I didn't, ma'am," says he. "He's just come visitin' like." - -"Harold," says she, "don't be impudent. Step forward." - -He stepped toward her desk, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He -jerked away from her, and she grabbed him by the collar. No dog likes to -see a grown-up use his boy rough, so I moved a little nearer and growled -at her. - -"Answer me," she says, "why did you allow this beast to come into the -schoolroom?" - -"Spot ain't a beast," says Freckles. "He's my dog." She stepped to the -stove and picked up a poker, and come toward me. I dodged, and ran to -the other side of her desk, and all the scholars laughed. That made her -mad, and she made a swipe at me with that poker, and she was so sudden -that she caught me right in the ribs, and I let out a yelp and ran over -behind Freckles. - -"You can't hit my dog like that!" yelled Freckles, mad as a hornet. "No -teacher that ever lived could lick my dog!" And he burst out crying, and -ran out of the room, with me after him. - -"I'm done with you," he sings out from the hall. "Marry your old -preacher if you want to." - -And then we went out into the middle of the road, and he slung stones -at the schoolhouse, and yelled names, till the principal came out and -chased us away. - -But I was glad, because I saw he was cured. A boy that is anything -will stick up for his dog, and a dog will stick up for his boy. We went -swimming, and then we went back as near the schoolhouse as we dast to. -When school let out, Freckles licked the whole Dalton Gang, one at a -time, and made each say, before he let him up: "Freckles Watson was -never stuck on anybody; and if he was, he is cured." - -They all said it, and then held a meeting; and he was elected president. - -And me!--I felt so good I went down-town and picked a fuss with a -butcher's dog that wore a spiked collar. I had always felt a little -scared of that dog before, but that night I just naturally chewed him to -a frazzle. - - - - -BILL PATTERSON - -This town," says Squint, quiet, but determined, "has got to be made an -example of. It has got to learn that it can't laugh at the Dalton Gang -and go unscathed. Freckled Watson of Dead Man's Gulch," says he to me, -"speak up! What form shall the punishment take?" - -"Blood," says I. - -"Two-Gun Tom of Texas," says he to Tom Mulligan, "speak!" - -"Death!" says Tom. - -"Arizona Pete, speak!" - -"Blood and Death," says Pete Wilson, making his voice deep. - -"Broncho Bob?" - -"Blood, death, and fire!" says Bob Jones. - -There was a solemn pause for a minute, and then I says, according to -rule and regulation: - -"And what says Dead-Shot Squint, the Terror of the Plains?" - -He was very serious while one might have counted ten breaths, and then -he pulled his jack-knife from his pocket and whet it on the palm of his -hand, and tried its point on his thumb, and replied: - -"He says death, and seals it with a vow!" - -That vow was a mighty solemn thing, and we always felt it so. It wasn't -the kind of a thing you would ever let small kids or girls know about. -First you all sat down in a circle, with your feet together, and rolled -up the sleeve of your left arm. Then the knife was passed around, and -each drew blood out of his left arm. Then each one got as much blood out -of the next fellow's arm as he could, in his mouth, and all swallowed -simultaneous, to show you were going into the thing to the death and no -turning back. Next we signed our names in a ring, using blood mixed with -gunpowder. But not on paper, mind you. We signed 'em on parchment. -First and last, that parchment was a good deal of trouble. If you think -skinning a squirrel or a rat to get his hide for parchment is an easy -trick, just try it. Let alone catching them being no snap. But Squint, -he was Captain, and he was stern on parchment, for it makes an oath more -legal, and all the old-time outlaws wouldn't look at anything else. But -we got a pretty good supply ahead by saving all the dead cats and things -like that we could find, and unless you know likely places to look it -would surprise you how many dead cats there are in the world. - -We were in the Horse Thieves' Cave, about a mile from town. It had -really been used for that, way back before the war. There was a gang -pretended to be honest settlers like everybody else. But they used to -steal horses and hide them out in there. When they had a dozen or so -of them they'd take 'em over to the Mississippi River, which was about -thirty miles west, some night, and raft 'em down stream and sell 'em at -Cairo or St. Louis. That went on for years, but along in the fifties, -my grandfather said, when _he_ was a kid, a couple was hung, and the -remainder got across the river and went west. The cave was up on -the side of a hill in the woods, and forgotten about except by a few -old-timers. The door-beams had rotted and fallen down, and the sand and -dirt had slid down over the mouth of it, and vines and bushes grown up. -No one would have guessed there was any cave there at all. But the -dogs got to digging around there one afternoon when the Dalton Gang was -meeting in the woods, and uncovered part of those door beams. We dug -some more and opened her up. It took a lot of work to clean her out, but -she was as good as new when we got done with her. We never told any one, -and the vines and bushes were so thick you could hunt a year and never -find the opening. It isn't every bunch of kids get a real Horse Thieves' -Cave ready-made like that, right from the hands of Providence, as you -might say. Pete Wilson used to brag and say his grand-dad was one of -those horse-thieves. It made the rest of us feel kind of meek for a -time, because none of us could claim any honour or grandeur like that in -our families. But my grand-dad, who has a terrible long memory about -the early days, said it wasn't so; so far as he could recollect Pete's -grand-dad never had any ambition above shoats and chickens. - -Well, I was telling you about that oath. We were taking it because -Squint's father, who was mayor, had run on to one of those parchments -(which Squint ought never to have taken away from the cave), and had -asked a lot of fool questions about it. Then he threw back his head and -laughed at the Dalton Gang. It made our blood boil. Hence, our plans for -revenge. - -"The time has come," said Squint, "for a bold stroke. Yonder proud city -laughs. But he laughs best who laughs last. And ere another sun has -set----" - -"The last time we took the blood oath," interrupts Bob Jones, "we didn't -do anything more important than steal the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable." - -"There must be no failure," says Squint, not heeding him, and he jabbed -the knife into the ground and gritted his teeth. You could see how the -memory of being laughed at was rankling through his veins. - -"But, Squint," says Tom Mulligan, looking quite a bit worried, "you -don't _really_ mean to kill any one, do you?" - -Squint only says, very haughty: "The blood oath has been sworn. Is there -a traitor here?" He was always a great one for holding us to it, Squint -was, unless what he called an Honourable Compromise came into sight. -And we all got mighty uncomfortable and gloomy trying to think of some -Honourable Compromise. It was to me that the great idea came, all of a -sudden. - -"Squint," I says, "the thing to do is to kidnap some prominent citizen -and hold him for ransom." - -Squint brightened up and said to wring gold from the coffers of yonder -proud city would be even more satisfaction than blood. The next question -was: Who will we kidnap? - -"I suggest the mayor of yonder town!" says Squint. - -"Gee--your dad, Squint?" says Tom Mulligan. - -"I offer him as a sacrifice," says Squint, very majestically. No one -could do any more, and we all felt Squint's dad had deserved it. But the -idea was so big it kind of scared us, too. But while the rest of us were -admiring Squint, Bob Jones got jealous and offered _his_ father. Then we -all offered our fathers, except Tom Mulligan, who didn't have anything -better to offer than a pair of spinster aunts. There was a general row -over whose father was the most prominent citizen. But finally we decided -to bar all relatives and kinsfolk, in order to prevent jealousy, even to -the distant cousins. But it isn't a very big town, and it would surprise -you how many people are related to each other there. Finally Bill -Patterson was voted to be the Honourable Compromise, being known as the -town drunkard, and not related to anybody who would own up to it. - -It figured out easy enough. All we had to do was to wait until Sunday -night, and take Bill out of the lockup. Every Saturday afternoon regular -Si Emery, who was the city marshal, arrested Bill for being drunk on -Main Street, and Bill was kept in jail until Monday morning. Si was -getting pretty old and feeble and shaky, and of late years the town -council never let him have the lock-up key until just an hour or so -before it was time to arrest Bill on Saturdays. Because one time Si -had forgot to feed and water a tramp in there for about a week, and the -tramp took sick after a while, and he was dead when Si remembered about -him, and had to be buried at the town's expense. And several times some -tough customers had taken the keys away from Si and broken into the -place and played cards and cut up in there scandalous for half the -night. So it was thought best Si shouldn't carry the keys, nor the -handcuffs which belonged to the town. After he had locked Bill up on -Saturday evenings Si would take the keys to the mayor's house, and get -them again on Monday morning to let Bill out. - -So the next Sunday night when the hired girl wasn't looking, Squint -sneaked the keys and the town handcuffs out of the drawer in the kitchen -table where the knives and forks were kept. He slipped upstairs to bed, -and no one noticed. About ten o'clock he dressed again, and got out the -back window, and down the lightning rod; and at the same hour us other -Daltons were doing much the same. - -We met behind the lockup, and put on the masks we had made. They had -hair on the bottoms of them to look like beards sticking out. - -"Who's got the dark-lantern?" Squint asks, in a whisper. - -"M-m-me," answered Pete Wilson, stuttering. I was so excited myself I -was biting my coat-sleeve so my teeth wouldn't chatter. And Bob Jones -was clicking the trigger of the cavalry pistol his uncle carried in the -war, and couldn't stop, like a girl can't stop laughing when she gets -hysterics. The cylinder was gone and it couldn't be loaded or he would -have killed himself, for he turned it up and looked right into the -muzzle and kept clicking when Squint asked him what the matter was. Pete -shook so he couldn't light the lantern; but Squint, he was that calm -and cool he lit her with the third match. He unlocked the door and in we -went. - -Bill was snoring like all get out, and talking in his sleep. That made -us feel braver again. Squint says to handcuff him easy and gentle before -he wakes. Well, there wasn't any trouble in that; the trouble was to -wake him up afterward. He was so interested in whatever he was dreaming -about that the only way we could do it was to tickle his nose with a -straw and wait until he sneezed himself awake. Squint clapped the muzzle -of the pistol to his forehead, while I flashed the lantern in his eyes -and the other three sat on his stomach and grabbed his legs. Squint -says: - -"William Patterson, one move and you are a dead man!" - -But Bill didn't try to move any; he only said: "Can't an honest -working-man take a little nap? You go 'way and leave me be!" - -"William Patterson," says Squint, "you are kidnapped!" - -"Yer a liar," says Bill. "I ain't. Ye can't prove it on to me. I'm just -takin' a little nap." - -Then he rouses up a little more and looks at us puzzled, and begins to -mumble and talk to himself: - -"Here I be," he says, "and here they be! I can see 'em, all right; but -they can't fool me! They ain't really nothing here. I seen too many of -them tremenses come and go to be fooled that easy." - -"Arise, William Patterson, and come with us," says Squint. - -"Now, you don't want to get too sassy," says Bill, "or you'll turn into -something else the first thing _you_ know. You tremenses always does -turn into something else." We had to kick him on the shins to make him -get up. When we did that he says to himself: "Shucks, now! A body'd -think he was bein' kicked if he didn't know different, wouldn't he?" - -He came along peaceable enough, but muttering to himself all the way: -"Monkeys and crocodiles and these here striped jackasses with wings on -to 'em I've saw many a time, and argified with 'em, too; and talked with -elephants no bigger'n a man's fist; and oncet I chased a freight train -round and round that calaboose and had it give me sass; but this is the -first time a passel o' little old men ever come and trotted me down the -pike." - -And he kept talking like that all the way to the cave. It was midnight -before we took off his handcuffs and shoved him in. When we gave him -that shove, he did get sort of spiteful and he says: - -"You tremenses think you're mighty smart, but if I was to come out -of this sudden, where would _you_ be? Blowed up, that's where--like -bubbles!" - -We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and -by the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when -we lit out for town again. - -On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank, -we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and -spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. -They read as follows: - -_Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis -Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef -in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!_ - ---_the kidNappers._ - -Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. -I had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had -some canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the -others were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get -hold of easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave -door Bill was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him: - -"Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with -all the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not -ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need -have no fear." - -"I ain't afeared," says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly -believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a -hollow stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom -of it through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our -fireplace. If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only -think some farmer was burning out stumps. - -Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or -suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat -back and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning: - -"I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is." - -"It's Illinois," says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it. - -"So it is," says he. "So it is!" After he had smoked awhile longer he -said: "What county in Illinois would you say it was, for choice?" - -"Bureau county," I told him. I saw then he hadn't known where he was. - -"It ain't possible, is it," he says, "that I ever seen any of you boys -on the streets of a little city by the name of Hazelton?" - -I told him yes. - -"I s'pose they got the same old city marshal there?" says he. I guess he -thought maybe he'd been gone for years and years, like Rip Van Winkle. -He was having a hard time to get things straightened out in his mind. He -stared and stared into the bowl of his pipe, looking at me now and then -out of the corners of his eyes as if he wondered whether he could trust -me or not; finally he leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear, -awfully anxious: "Who would you say I was, for choice, now?" - -"Bill Patterson," I told him, and he brightened up considerable and -chuckled to himself; and then he said, feeling of himself all over and -tying on his rope again: - -"Bill Patterson is correct! Been wanderin' around through these here -woods for weeks an' weeks, livin' on roots an' yarbs like a wild man of -Borneo." Then he asks me very confidential: "How long now, if you was to -make a guess, would you judge Bill had been livin' in this here cave?" - -But Squint cut in and told him point blank he was kidnapped. It took -a long time to get that into Bill's head, but finally he asked: "What -for?" - -"For ransom," says I. - -"And revenge," says Squint. - -Bill looked dazed for a minute, and then said if it was all the same to -us he'd like to have a talk with a lawyer. But Bob Jones broke in and -told him "Unless five hundred dollars is paid over to the gang, you will -never see Hazelton again." He looked frightened at that and began to -pick at his coat-sleeves, and said he guessed if we didn't mind he'd go -and take a little nap now. You never saw such a captive for sleeping up -his spare time; he was just naturally cut out to be a prisoner. But -we felt kind of sorry and ashamed we had scared him; it was so easy to -scare him, and we agreed we'd speak gentle and easy to him after that. - -At dinner time we waked Bill up and gave him another meal. And he was -ready for it; the sight of victuals seemed to take any fright he might -have had out of his mind. You never saw such an appetite in all your -born days; he ate like he had years of lost time to make up for; and -maybe he had. He was having such a good time he began to have his doubts -whether it would last, for he said, in a worried kind of way, after -dinner: "This here thing of being kidnapped, now, ain't a thing you boys -is going to try and charge for, is it? 'Cause if it is them there sharp -tricks can't be worked on to me; and if you was to sue me for it you sue -a pauper." - -After dinner Squint and I went to town on a scouting party. We hung -around the streets and listened to the talk that was going on just like -a couple of spies would that had entered the enemy's camp in war time. -Everybody was wondering what had become of Bill, and gassing about the -notices; and it made us feel mighty proud to think that fame had come -to ones so young as us, even although it came in disguise so that no one -but us knew it. But in the midst of that feeling we heard Hy Williams, -the city drayman, saying to a crowd of fellows who were in front of the -post office waiting for the mail to be distributed: - -"The beatingest part of the whole thing is that any one would be fools -enough to think that this town or any other town would pay ransom to get -back a worthless cuss like Bill Patterson!" - -It had never struck us like that before. Instead of being famous like -we had thought, here we were actually being laughed at again! Squint, he -gritted his teeth, and I knew all the rankling that he had done inside -of him was as nothing to the rankling that he was doing now. So that -night we put up some more notices around town, which read as follows: - -_n. B.--take notus! we didunt reely Expect money for Old Bill Patterson, -we onely done that to show this town Is in Our Power. Take warning and -pay Up the next will be a rich one or his child._ - ---_kidnappers._ - -That really made folks pretty serious, that notice. There was a piece -in a Chicago paper about the things that had happened in our town. The -piece told a lot of things that never had happened, but when the papers -came down from Chicago and they all read it the whole town began to -get worse and worse excited. And about that time we began to get scared -ourselves. For there was talk of sending off to Chicago and getting a -detective. People were frightened about their kids, too. It kept getting -harder and harder for us to get out to the cave to guard Bill. Not that -he needed much guarding, either; for he was having the time of his life -out there, eating and sleeping and not working at anything else. It had -been years since he had struck any kind of work that suited him as well -as being kidnapped did; if we hadn't been so worried it would have been -a pleasure to us to see how happy and contented we were making him; he -acted like he had found the real job in life that he had always been -looking for, and the only thing that bothered him at all was when he -recollected about that ransom and got afraid the town would pay it -and end his snap. But mostly he didn't bother about anything; for his -recollection was only by fits and starts; yesterday was just as far off -to him as a year ago. The second day he was there he did get a little -grouchy because he had been without anything to drink for so long. -But that night someone broke into the saloon and stole a lot of quart -bottles of whiskey; about a bushel of them, it was said. We didn't -suspect it was Bill, right at first, for he was foxy enough to keep -it hid from us; and when we did know we didn't dare say anything! That -whiskey was the one thing Bill had lacked to make him completely happy. -But the theft worked in a way that increased our troubles. For it showed -people that the mysterious gang was still hanging around waiting to -strike a desperate stroke. And the very next night a store was broken -into and some stuff stolen. It wasn't Bill, but I suppose some tramp -that was hanging around; but it helped to stir things up worse and -worse. So we decided that we had better turn Bill loose. We held a -meeting out by the cave, and then Squint told him: - -"Prisoner, you are at liberty!" - -"What d'ye mean by that?" says Bill. "You ain't goin' back on me, are -ye?" - -"Yonder town has been punished enough," says Squint. "Go free--we strike -your shackles off!" - -"But see here," says Bill, "wasn't I kidnapped reg'lar? Ain't I been a -model prisoner?" - -"But we're through with you, Bill," we told him. "Don't you understand?" - -Bill allowed it was a mean trick we were playing on him; he said he -had thought we were his friends, and that he'd done his best to give -satisfaction in the place, and here we were, firing him, as you might -say, without any warning, or giving him any chance to get another job -like it, or even telling him where he had failed to make good, and then -he snuffled like he was going to cry, and said: "That's a great way to -treat an honest workin'-man, that is! An' they call this a free country, -too!" - -But Squint, while expressing sorrow that we should have raised any false -hopes, was firm with him, too. "You take the rest of that whiskey and -chase along, now, Bill," he said, "you aren't kidnapped any more." - -But Bill flared up at that. "I ain't, ain't I?" he said. "Yer a liar! -I was kidnapped fair and square; kidnapped I be, and kidnapped I stay! -I'll show you blamed little cheats whether I'm kidnapped or not, I -will!" - -He took a chew of tobacco and sat down on a log, and studied us, looking -us over real sullen and spiteful. "Now, then," he says, finally, "if -you young smart alecs think you can treat a free man that-a-way yer dern -fools. I got the law on to my side, I have. Do you think I don't know -that? Mebby you boys don't know ye could go to jail for kidnappin' an -honest work-in'-man? Well, ye could, if it was found out on ye. It's a -crime, that's what it is, and ye could go to jail for it. You treat Old -Bill fair and square and keep friends with him, and he won't tell on -you; but the minute I hear any more talk about bein' set at liberty I'll -tell on ye, and to jail you goes. I'm mighty comfortable where I be, and -I ain't goin' to be turned out." - -We all looked at each other, and then we looked away again, and our -hearts sank. For each one read in his neighbour's eyes (as Squint said -later) what his doom might well be. - -"Kidnapped I be," says Bill again, very rough and decided, "and -kidnapped I stay. And what's more, I want chicken for supper to-night. I -ain't had no chicken for quite a spell. You can wake me up when supper's -ready." And he went into the cave and lay down for a nap. - -We were in his power, and he knew it! - -We had to steal that chicken, and it went against the grain to do it. -It was the first time in its career of crime the Dalton Gang had ever -actually stolen anything. Except, of course, watermelons and such truck, -which isn't really stealing. And except the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable, which was for revenge and as a punishment on the Sunday -School, and so not really stealing, either. - -Things got worse and worse. For Bill, he kept us on the jump. He got -to wanting more and more different things to eat, and was more and more -particular about the cooking. He wouldn't lift a hand for himself, not -even to fill and light his own pipe. We waited on him hand and foot, all -day long. And first he would take a fancy for a mess of squirrels, and -then he would want pigeons; and we had to take turns fanning the flies -off of him when he wanted to take a nap. Once he told a story, and -we all laughed at it; and that gave him the idea he was a great story -teller; and he would tell foolish yarns by the hour and get sulky if -we didn't laugh. We got so we would do anything to keep him in a good -humour. We had a lot of Indian stories and Old Sleuths out to the cave, -and he made us take turns reading to him. That good-for-nothing loafer -turned into a regular king, and we were his slaves. - -Between sneaking out there to keep him happy and contented and rustling -up grub for him, and thinking all the time we would be arrested the -next minute, and wanting to confess and not daring to, we all got right -nervous. Then there was a man came to town who didn't tell what his -business was the first day he was there, and we were right sure he was a -detective. He passed right by the cave one day, and we hugged the ground -behind the bushes and didn't dare breathe. It turned out afterward he -was only looking at some land he was figuring on buying. But that night -I dreamed that that man arrested me; and I was being sent to jail when I -waked up screaming out something about kidnapping. I heard my Pa say to -my Ma, after they had got me quieted down: - -"Poor little fellow! He thought he was kidnapped! No wonder he is -afraid, the state this whole town is in. If those desperadoes are -caught, they'll go to the pen for a good long term: nothing on earth can -save 'em from a Bureau county jury." - -Then he went back into his room and went to sleep; but I didn't go to -sleep. What he had said didn't make me feel sleepy. I slipped out of bed -and prayed enough that night to make up for the times I had forgot it -lately; and the next day the rest of the Dalton Gang admitted they had -prayed some, too. - -But the worst of all was when Bill made friends with the tramp. Squint -and I went out to the cave one morning to get Bill's breakfast for him, -and as we got near we heard two sets of snores. Bill's snore you could -tell a long way off, he sort of gargled his snores and they ended up -with kind of a choke and an explosion. But the other snore was more of a -steady whistling sound. We ran across the fellow sudden, and it like to -have frightened us out of a year's growth. He was lying just inside the -cave with his hat pulled over his face, but he was snoring with one eye -open. It peered out from under the brim of his hat; it was half-hidden, -but it was open all right, and it was staring straight at us. It wasn't -human; no one with good intentions would lie there like that and snore -like he was asleep and watch folks at the same time on the sly. We -couldn't even run; we stood there with that regular see-saw snore coming -and going, and that awful eye burning into the centres of our souls, -as Squint says later, and thought our end had come. But he waked up and -opened the other eye, and then we saw the first one was glass and he -hadn't meant any harm by it. He was right sorry he'd scared us, he -said; but we'd have to get used to that eye, for _he_ allowed he was -kidnapped, too. It was two days before he quit being our captive and -left, and they are among the saddest days I ever spent. - -He left because Bill's whiskey was gone; and the afternoon he left, Bill -was helpless. When we saw Bill in that fix it gave us an idea how to -get rid of him. That night he was still weak and easy to handle. So we -slipped the handcuffs on him and took him back and locked him into the -calaboose again. Then we put signs and notices around town that read -this way: - -_Ha Ha Ha_ - -_Did you ever get left! this town joshed me for years but I have got -even--the joke is on to you--I wasn't kidnapped a tall--who is the -suckers now?_ - -_Bill Patterson._ - -And that town was so mad that when they found Bill in the jail again -there was talk of handling him pretty rough. But it all turned into -josh. Bill, when he woke up in the calaboose, thought he had just had -a dream at first, and denied he had ever been absent. Then when he saw -they all took him for a deep joker he began to act like he was a joker. -And before long he got to thinking he really had played that trick on -the town. When they used to ask him how on earth he got into and out of -the calaboose without the keys, he would wink very mysterious, and look -important, and nod and chuckle to himself and say that was the best part -of the joke and he intended to keep it to himself. - -But one day when he was almost sober he saw Squint and me on the -street and stared at us long and hard like he was trying to recollect -something, and scratched his head and said: "You boys didn't always used -to live in this town, did you?" - -"Uh-huh," says I. - -"That's funny," says Bill, "I could have swore you was boys I once -knowed a long ways off from here that time I was on my travels." - - - - -BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) - -I am a middle-sized dog, with spots on me here and there, and several -different colours of hair mixed in even where there aren't any spots, -and my ears are frazzled a little on the ends where they have been -chewed in fights. - -At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I -was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost -feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from -dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it. - -I can well remember the afternoon on which the discovery was made. A -lot of us dogs were lying in the grass, up by the swimming hole, just -lazying around, and the boys were doing the same. All the boys were -naked and comfortable, and no humans were about, the only thing near -being a cow or two and some horses, and although large they are scarcely -more human than boys. Everybody had got tired of swimming, and it was -too hot to drown out gophers or fight bumblebees, and the boys were -smoking grapevine cigarettes and talking. - -Us dogs was listening to the boys talk. A Stray Boy, which I mean one -not claimed or looked out for or owned by any dog, says to Freckles -Watson, who is my boy: - -"What breed would you call that dog of yours, Freck?" - -I pricked up my ears at that. I cannot say that I had ever set great -store by breeds up to the time that I found out I was an aristocrat -myself, believing, as Bill Patterson, a human and the town drunkard, -used to say when intoxicated, that often an honest heart beats beneath -the outcast's ragged coat. - -"Spot ain't any _one_ particular breed," says Freckles. "He's -considerably mixed." - -"He's a mongrel," says Squint Thompson, who is Jack Thompson's boy. - -"He ain't," says Freckles, so huffy that I saw a mongrel must be some -sort of a disgrace. "You're a link, link liar, and so's your Aunt -Mariar," says Freckles. - -I thought there might be a fight then, but it was too hot for any -enjoyment in a fight, I guess, for Squint let it pass, only saying, "I -ain't got any Aunt Mariar, and you're another." - -"A dog," chips in the Stray Boy, "has either got to be a thoroughbred or -a mongrel. He's either an aristocrat or else he's a common dog." - -"Spot ain't any common dog," says Freckles, sticking up for me. "He can -lick any dog in town within five pounds of his weight." - -"He's got some spaniel in him," says the Stray Boy. - -"His nose is pointed like a hound's nose," says Squint Thompson. - -"Well," says Freckles, "neither one of them kind of dogs is a common -dog." - -"Spot has got some bulldog blood in him, too," says Tom Mulligan, an -Irish boy owned by a dog by the name of Mutt Mulligan. "Did you ever -notice how Spot will hang on so you can't pry him loose, when he gets -into a fight?" - -"That proves he is an aristocratic kind of dog," says Freckles. - -"There's some bird dog blood in Spot," says the Stray Boy, sizing me up -careful. - -"He's got some collie in him, too," says Squint Thompson. "His voice -sounds just like a collie's when he barks." - -"But his tail is more like a coach dog's tail," says Tom Mulligan. - -"His hair ain't, though," says the Stray Boy. "Some of his hair is like -a setter's." - -"His teeth are like a mastiff's," says Mutt Mulligan's boy Tom. And -they went on like that; I never knew before there were so many different -kinds of thoroughbred dog. Finally Freckles says: - -"Yes, he's got all them different kinds of thoroughbred blood in him, -and he's got other kinds you ain't mentioned and that you ain't slick -enough to see. You may think you're running him down, but what you say -just _proves_ he ain't a common dog." - -I was glad to hear that. It was beginning to look to me that they had a -pretty good case for me being a mongrel. - -"How does it prove it?" asked the Stray Boy. - -"Well," says Freckles, "you know who the King of Spain is, don't you?" - -They said they'd heard of him from time to time. - -"Well," says Freckles, "if you were a relation of the King of Spain -you'd be a member of the Spanish royal family. You fellows may not know -that, but you would. You'd be a swell, a regular high-mucky-muck." - -They said they guessed they would. - -"Now, then," says Freckles, "if you were a relation to the King of -Switzerland, too, you'd be just _twice_ as swell, wouldn't you, as if -you were only related to one royal family? Plenty of people are related -to just _one_ royal family." - -Tom Mulligan butts in and says that way back, in the early days, his -folks was the Kings of Ireland; but no one pays any attention. - -"Suppose, then, you're a cousin of the Queen of England into the bargain -and your grand-dad was King of Scotland, and the Prince of Wales and -the Emperor of France and the Sultan of Russia and the rest of those -royalties were relations of yours, wouldn't all that royal blood make -you _twenty times_ as much of a high-mucky-muck as if you had just _one_ -measly little old king for a relation?" - -The boys had to admit that it would. - -"You wouldn't call a fellow with all that royal blood in him a -_mongrel_, would you?" says Freckles. "You bet your sweet life you -wouldn't! A fellow like that is darned near on the level with a -congressman or a vicepresident. Whenever he travels around in the old -country they turn out the brass band; and the firemen and the Knights of -Pythias and the Modern Woodmen parade, and the mayor makes a speech, and -there's a picnic and firecrackers, and he gets blamed near anything he -wants. People kow-tow to him, just like they do to a swell left-handed -pitcher or a champion prizefighter. If you went over to the old country -and called a fellow like that a mongrel, and it got out oh you, you -would be sent to jail for it." - -Tom Mulligan says yes, that is so; his grand-dad came to this country -through getting into some kind of trouble about the King of England, and -the King of England ain't anywhere near as swell as the fellow Freckles -described, nor near so royal, neither. - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "it's the same way with my dog, Spot, here. -_Any_ dog can be full of just _one_ kind of thoroughbred blood. That's -nothing! But Spot here has got more different kinds of thoroughbred -blood in him than any dog you ever saw. By your own say-so he has. He's -got _all_ kinds of thoroughbred blood in him. If there's any kind he -ain't got, you just name it, will you?" - -"He ain't got any Great Dane in him," yells the Stray Boy, hating to -knuckle under. - -"You're a liar, he has, too," says Freckles. - -The Stray Boy backed it, and there was a fight. All us dogs and boys -gathered around in a ring to watch it, and I was more anxious than -anybody else. For the way that fight went, it was easy to see, would -decide what I was. - -Well, Freckles licked that Stray Boy, and rubbed his nose in the mud, -and that's how I come to be an aristocrat. - -Being an aristocrat may sound easy. And it may look easy to outsiders. -And it may really be easy for them that are used to it. But it wasn't -easy for _me_. It came on me suddenly, the knowledge that I was one, and -without warning. I didn't have any time to practise up being one. One -minute I wasn't one, and the next minute I was; and while, of course, -I felt important over it, there were spells when I would get kind of -discouraged, too, and wish I could go back to being a common dog again. -I kept expecting my tastes and habits to change. I watched and waited -for them to. But they didn't. No change at all set in on me. But I had -to pretend I was changed. Then I would get tired of pretending, and be -down-hearted about the whole thing, and say to myself: "There has been a -mistake. I am _not_ an aristocrat after all." - -I might have gone along like that for a long time, partly in joy over my -noble birth, and partly in doubt, without ever being certain, if it had -not been for a happening which showed, as Freckles said, that blood will -tell. - -It happened the day Wilson's World's Greatest One Ring Circus and -Menagerie came to our town. Freckles and me, and all the other dogs and -boys, and a good many humans, too, followed the street parade around -through town and back to the circus lot. Many went in, and the ones that -didn't have any money hung around outside a while and explained to each -other they were going at night, because a circus is more fun at night -anyhow. Freckles didn't have any money, but his dad was going to take -him that night, so when the parade was over, him and me went back to -his dad's drug store on Main Street, and I crawled under the soda-water -counter to take a nap. - -Freckles's dad, that everyone calls Doc Watson, is a pretty good fellow -for a human, and he doesn't mind you hanging around the store if -you don't drag bones in or scratch too many fleas off. So I'm there -considerable in right hot weather. Under the soda water counter is the -coolest place for a dog in the whole town. There's a zinc tub under -there always full of water, where Doc washes the soda-water glasses, and -there's always considerable water slopped on to the floor. It's damp and -dark there always. Outdoors it may be so hot in the sun that your tongue -hangs out of you so far you tangle your feet in it, but in under there -you can lie comfortable and snooze, and when you wake up and want a -drink there's the tub with the glasses in it. And flies don't bother -you because they stay on top of the counter where soda water has been -spilled. - -Circus day was a hot one, and I must have drowsed off pretty quick after -lying down. I don't know how long I slept, but when I waked up it was -with a start, for something important was going on outside in Main -Street. I could hear people screaming and swearing and running along -the wooden sidewalk, and horses whinnying, and dogs barking, and old Si -Emery, the city marshal, was yelling out that he was an officer of the -law, and the steam whistle on the flour mill was blowing. And it all -seemed to be right in front of our store. I was thinking I'd better go -out and see about it, when the screen doors crashed like a runaway horse -had come through them, and the next minute a big yellow dog was back -of the counter, trying to scrouch down and scrooge under it like he was -scared and was hiding. He backed me into the corner without seeing me or -knowing I was there, and like to have squashed me. - -No dog--and it never struck me that maybe this wasn't a dog--no dog can -just calmly sit down on me like that when I'm waking up from a nap, -and get away with it, no matter _how_ big he is, and in spite of the -darkness under there I could see and feel that this was the biggest -dog in the world. I had been dreaming I was in a fight, anyhow, when he -crowded in there with his hindquarters on top of me, and I bit him on -the hind leg. - -When I bit him he let out a noise like a thrashing machine starting up. -It wasn't a bark. Nothing but the end of the world coming could bark -like that. It was a noise more like I heard one time when the boys dared -Freckles to lie down between the cattle guards on the railroad track and -let a train run over him about a foot above his head, and I laid down -there with him and it nearly deefened both of us. When he let out that -noise I says to myself, "Great guns! What kind of a dog have I bit?" - -And as he made that noise he jumped, and over went the counter, marble -top and all, with a smash, and jam into the show window he went, with -his tail swinging, and me right after him, practically on top of him. It -wasn't that I exactly intended to chase him, you understand, but I was -rattled on account of that awful noise he had let out, and I wanted to -get away from there, and I went the same way he did. So when he bulged -through the window glass on to the street I bulged right after him, and -as he hit the sidewalk I bit him again. The first time I bit him because -I was sore, but the second time I bit him because I was so nervous I -didn't know what I was doing, hardly. And at the second bite, without -even looking behind him, he jumped clean over the hitch rack and a team -of horses in front of the store and landed right in the middle of the -road with his tail between his legs. - -And then I realized for the first time he wasn't a dog at all. He was -the circus lion. - -Mind you, I'm not saying that I would have bit him at all if I'd a-known -at the start he was a lion. - -And I ain't saying I _wouldn't_ 'a' bit him, either. - -But actions speak louder than words, and records are records, and you -can't go back on them, and the fact is I _did_ bite him. I bit him -twice. - -And that second bite, when we came bulging through the window together, -the whole town saw. It was getting up telephone poles, and looking out -of second-story windows, and crawling under sidewalks and into cellars, -and trying to hide behind the town pump; but no matter where it was -trying to get to, it had one eye on that lion, and it saw me chasing him -out of that store. I don't say I would have chased him if he hadn't been -just ahead of me, anyhow, and I don't say I wouldn't have chased him, -but the facts are I _did_ chase him. - -The lion was just as scared as the town--and the town was so scared it -didn't know the lion was scared at all--and when his trainer got hold of -him in the road he was tickled to death to be led back to his cage, and -he lay down in the far corner of it, away from the people, and trembled -till he shook the wagon it was on. - -But if there was any further doubts in any quarter about me being an -aristocrat, the way I bit and chased that lion settled 'em forever. That -night Freckles and Doc went to the circus, and I marched in along with -them. And every kid in town, as they saw Freckles and me marching in, -says: - -"There goes the dog that licked the lion!" - -And Freckles, every time any one congratulated him on being the boy that -belonged to that kind of a dog, would say: - -"Blood will tell! Spot's an aristocrat, he is." - -And him and me and Doc Watson, his dad, stopped in front of the lion's -cage that night and took a good long look at him. He was a kind of an -old moth-eaten lion, but he was a lion all right, and he looked mighty -big in there. He looked so big that all my doubts come back on me, and -I says to myself: "Honest, now, if I'd _a-known_ he was a lion, and that -_big_ a lion, when I bit him, _would_ I have bit him or would I not?" - -But just then Freckles reached down and patted me on the head and said: -"You wasn't afraid of him, was you, old Spot! Yes, sir, blood will -tell!" - - - - -BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog) - -Ever since I bit a circus lion, believing him to be another dog -like myself, only larger, I have been what Doc Watson calls a Public -Character in our town. - -Freckles, my boy, was a kind of a public character, too. He went around -bragging about my noble blood and bravery, and all the other boys and -dogs in town sort of looked up to him and thought how lucky he was to -belong to a dog like me. And he deserved whatever glory he got of it, -Freckles did. For, if I do say it myself, there's not a dog in town got -a better boy than my boy Freckles, take him all in all. I'll back him -against any dog's boy that is anywhere near his size, for fighting, -swimming, climbing, foot-racing, or throwing stones farthest and -straightest. Or I'll back him against any stray boy, either. - -Well, some dogs may be born Public Characters, and like it. And some may -be brought up to like it. I've seen dogs in those travelling Uncle Tom's -Cabin shows that were so stuck on themselves they wouldn't hardly notice -us town dogs. But with me, becoming a Public Character happened all in -a flash, and it was sort of hard for me to get used to it. One day I was -just a private kind of a dog, as you might say, eating my meals at the -Watson's back door, and pretending to hunt rats when requested, and not -scratching off too many fleas in Doc Watson's drug store, and standing -out from underfoot when told, and other unremarkable things like that. -And the next day I had bit that lion and was a Public Character, and -fame came so sudden I scarcely knew how to act. - -Even drummers from big places like St. Louis and Chicago would come into -the drug store and look at my teeth and toe nails, as if they must be -different from other dogs' teeth and toe nails. And people would come -tooting up to the store in their little cars, and get out and look me -over and say: - -"Well, Doc, what'll you take for him?" and Doc would wink, and say: - -"He's Harold's dog. You ask Harold." - -Which Harold is Freckles's other name. But any boy that calls him Harold -outside of the schoolhouse has got a fight on his hands, if that boy is -anywhere near Freckles's size. Harry goes, or Hal goes, but Harold is -a fighting word with Freckles. Except, of course, with grown people. I -heard him say one day to Tom Mulligan, his parents thought Harold was a -name, or he guessed they wouldn't have given it to him; but it wasn't a -name, it was a handicap. - -Freckles would always say, "Spot ain't for sale." And even Heinie -Hassenyager, the butcher, got stuck on me after I got to be a Public -Character. Heinie would come two blocks up Main Street with lumps of -Hamburg steak, which is the kind someone has already chewed for you, and -give them to me. Steak, mind you, not old gristly scraps. And before I -became a Public Character Heinie even grudged me the bones I would drag -out of the box under his counter when he wasn't looking. - -My daily hope was that I could live up to it all. I had always tried, -before I happened to bite that lion, to be a friendly kind of a dog -toward boys and humans and dogs, all three. I'd always been expected to -do a certain amount of tail-wagging and be friendly. But as soon as I -got to be a Public Character, I saw right away I wasn't expected to be -_too_ friendly any more. So, every now and then, I'd growl a little, -for no reason at all. A dog that has bit a lion is naturally expected to -have fierce thoughts inside of him; I could see that. And you have got -to act the way humans expect you to act, if you want to slide along -through the world without too much trouble. - -So when Heinie would bring me the ready-chewed steak I'd growl at him a -little bit. And then I'd bolt and gobble the steak like I didn't think -so derned much of it, after all, and was doing Heinie a big personal -favour to eat it. And now and then I'd pretend I wasn't going to eat a -piece of it unless it was chewed finer for me, and growl at him about -that. - -That way of acting made a big hit with Heinie, too. I could see that he -was honoured and flattered because I didn't go any further than just a -growl. It gave him a chance to say he knew how to manage animals. And -the more I growled, the more steak he brought. Everybody in town fed -me. I pretty near ate myself to death for a while there, besides all the -meat I buried back of Doc Watson's store to dig up later. - -But my natural disposition is to be friendly. I would rather be loved -than feared, which is what Bill Patterson, the village drunkard, used -to say. When they put him into the calaboose every Saturday afternoon -he used to look out between the bars on the back window and talk to the -boys and dogs that had gathered round and say that he thanked them -one and all for coming to an outcast's dungeon as a testimonial of -affection, and he would rather be loved than feared. And my natural -feelings are the same. I had to growl and keep dignified and go on being -a Public Character, but often I would say to myself that it was losing -me all my real friends, too. - -The worst of it was that people, after a week or so, began to expect -me to pull something else remarkable. Freckles, he got up a circus, and -charged pins and marbles, and cents when he found any one that had any, -to get into it, and I was the principal part of that circus. I was in a -cage, and the sign over me read: - -SPOT, THE DOG THAT LICKED A LION - -TEN PINS ADMITTION - -To feed the lion-eater, one cent or two white chiney marbles extry but -bring your own meat. - -Pat him once on the head twinty pins, kids under five not allowed to. - -For shaking hands with Spot the lion-eater, girls not allowed, gents -three white chinies, or one aggie marble. - -Lead him two blocks down the street and back, one cent before starting, -no marbles or pins taken for leading him. - -For sicking him on to cats three cents or one red cornelian marble if -you furnish the cat. Five cents to use Watson's cat. Watson's biggest -Tom-cat six cents must be paid before sicking. Small kids and girls not -allowed to sick him on cats. - -Well, we didn't take in any cat-sicking money. And it was just as well. -You never can tell what a cat will do. But Freckles put it in because it -sounded sort of fierce. I didn't care for being caged and circused that -way myself. And it was right at that circus that considerable trouble -started. - -Seeing me in a cage like that, all famoused-up, with more meat poked -through the slats than two dogs could eat, made Mutt Mulligan and some -of my old friends jealous. - -Mutt, he nosed up by the cage and sniffed. I nosed a piece of meat out -of the cage to him. Mutt grabbed it and gobbled it down, but he didn't -thank me any. Mutt, he says: - -"There's a new dog down town that says he blew in from Chicago. He says -he used to be a Blind Man's Dog on a street corner there. He's a -pretty wise dog, and he's a right ornery-looking dog, too. He's peeled -considerably where he has been bit in fights." - -"Well, Mutt," says I, "as far as that goes I'm peeled considerable -myself where I've been bit in fights." - -"I know you are, Spot," says Mutt. "You don't need to tell me that. I've -peeled you some myself from time to time." - -"Yes," I says, "you did peel me some, Mutt. And I've peeled you some, -too. More'n that, I notice that right leg of yours is a little stiff yet -where I got to it about three weeks ago." - -"Well, then, Spot," says Mutt, "maybe you want to come down here and see -what you can do to my other three legs. I never saw the day I wouldn't -give you a free bite at one leg and still be able to lick you on the -other three." - -"You wouldn't talk that way if I was out of this cage," I says, getting -riled. - -"What did you ever let yourself be put into that fool cage for?" Mutt -says. "You didn't have to. You got such a swell head on you the last -week or so that you gotto be licked. You can fool boys and humans all -you want to about that accidental old lion, but us dogs got your number, -all right. What that Blind Man's Dog from Chicago would do to you would -be a plenty!" - -"Well, then," I says, "I'll be out of this cage along about supper time. -Suppose you bring that Blind Man's Dog around here. And if he ain't -got a spiked collar on to him, I'll fight him. I won't fight a -spike-collared dog to please anybody." - -And I wouldn't, neither, without I had one on myself, If you can't get -a dog by the throat or the back of his neck, what's the use of fighting -him? You might just as well try to eat a blacksmith shop as fight one of -those spike-collared dogs. - -"Hey, there!" Freckles yelled at Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's -boy. "You get your fool dog away from the lion-eaters cage!" - -Tom, he histed Mutt away. But he says to Freckles, being jealous -himself, "Don't be scared, Freck, I won't let my dog hurt yours any. -Spot, he's safe. He's in a cage where Mutt can't get to him." - -Freckles got riled. He says, "1 ain't in any cage, Tom." - -Tom, he didn't want to fight very bad. But all the other boys and dogs -was looking on. And he'd sort of started it. He didn't figure that he -could shut up that easy. And there was some girls there, too. - -"If I was to make a pass at you," says Tom, "you'd wish you was in a -cage." - -Freckles, he didn't want to fight so bad, either. But he was running -this circus, and he didn't feel he could afford to pass by what Tom said -too easy. So he says: - -"Maybe you think you're big enough to put me into a cage." - -"If I was to make a pass at you," says Tom, "there wouldn't be enough -left of you to put in a cage." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "why don't you make a pass at me?" - -"Maybe you figure I don't dast to," says Tom. - -"I didn't say you didn't dast to," says Freckles; "any one that says -I said you didn't dast to is a link, link, liar, and so's his Aunt -Mariar." - -Tom, he says, "I ain't got any Aunt Mariar. And you're another and -dastn't back it." - -Then some of the other kids put chips on to their shoulders. And each -dared the other to knock his chip off. And the other kids pushed and -jostled them into each other till both chips fell off, and they went at -it then. Once they got started they got really mad and each did all he -knew how. - -And right in the midst of it Mutt run in and bit Freckles on the calf -of his leg. Any dog will fight for his boy when his boy is getting the -worst of it. But when Mutt did that I give a bulge against the wooden -slats on the cage and two of them came off, and I was on top of Mutt. -The circus was in the barn, and the hens began to scream and the horses -began to stomp, and all the boys yelled, "Sick 'im!" and "Go to it!" -and danced around and hollered, and the little girls yelled, and all the -other dogs began to bark, and it was a right lively and enjoyable time. -But Mrs. Watson, Freckles's mother, and the hired girl ran out from the -house and broke the fight up. - -Grown women are like that. They don't want to fight themselves, and -they don't seem to want any one else to have any fun. You gotto be a -hypocrite around a grown woman to get along with her at all. And then -she'll feed you and make a lot of fuss over you. But the minute you -start anything with real enjoyment in it she's surprised to see you -acting that way. Nobody was licked satisfactory in that fight, or licked -any one else satisfactory. - -Well, that night after supper, along comes that Blind Man's Dog. Never -did I see a Blind Man's Dog that was as tight-skinned. I ain't a dog -that brags, myself, and I don't say I would have licked that heavy a dog -right easy, even if he had been a loose-skinned dog. What I do say is -that I had been used to fighting looseskinned dogs that you can get -some sort of a reasonable hold on to while you are working around for -position. And running into a tight-skinned dog that way, all of a sudden -and all unprepared for it, would make anybody nervous. How are you -going to get a purchase on a tight-skinned dog when you've been fighting -looseskinned dogs for so long that your teeth and jaws just naturally -set themselves for a loose-skinned dog without thinking of it? - -Lots of dogs wouldn't have fought him at all when they realized how they -had been fooled about him, and how tight-skinned he was. But I was a -Public Character now, and I had to fight him. More than that, I ain't -ready to say yet that that dog actually licked me. Freckles he hit him -in the ribs with a lump of soft coal, and he got off of me and run away -before I got my second wind. There's no telling what I would have done -to that Blind Man's Dog, tight-skinned as he was, if he hadn't run away -before I got my second wind. - -Well, there's some mighty peculiar dogs in this world, let alone boys -and humans. The word got around town, in spite of his running away like -that before I got my second wind, that that Blind Man's Dog, so called, -had actually licked me! Many pretended to believe it. Every time -Freckles and me went down the street someone would say: - -"Well, the dog that licked the lion got licked himself, did he?" - -And if it was a lady said it, Freckles would spit on the sidewalk -through the place where his front teeth are out and pass on politely as -if he hadn't heard, and say nothing. And if it was a man that said it -Freckles would thumb his nose at him. And if it was a girl that said -it he would rub a handful of sand into her hair. And if it was a boy -anywhere near his size, there would be a fight. If it was too big a boy, -Freckles would sling railroad iron at him. - -For a week or so it looked like Freckles and I were fighting all the -time. Three or four times a day, and every day. Oft the way to school, -and all through recess-times, and after school, and every time we went -on to the street. I got so chewed and he got so busted up that we didn't -hardly enjoy life. - -No matter how much you may like to fight, some of the time you would -like to pick the fights yourself and not have other people picking them -off of you. Kids begun to fight Freckles that wouldn't have dast to -stand up to him a month before. I was still a Public Character, but I -was getting to be the kind you josh about instead of the kind you are -proud to feed. I didn't care so awful much for myself, but I hated it -for Freckles. For when they got us pretty well hacked, all the boys -began to call him Harold again. - -And after they had called him Harold for a week he must have begun to -think of himself as Harold. For one Saturday afternoon when there wasn't -any school, instead of going swimming with the other kids or playing -baseball, or anything, he went and played with girls. - -He must have been pretty well down-hearted and felt himself pretty much -of an outcast, or he wouldn't have done that. I am an honest dog, and -the truth must be told, the disgrace along with everything else, and -the truth is that he played with girls of his own accord that day--not -because he was sent to their house on an errand, not because it was a -game got up with boys and girls together, not because it was cousins -and he couldn't dodgje them, but because he was an outcast. Any boy will -play with girls when all the boys and girls are playing together, and -some girls are nearly as good as boys; but no boy is going off alone to -look up a bunch of girls and play with them without being coaxed unless -he has had considerable of a down-fall. - -Right next to the side of our yard was the Wilkinses. They had a bigger -house and a bigger yard than ours. Freckles was sitting on the top of -the fence looking into their orchard when the three Wilkins girls came -out to play. There was only two boys in the Wilkins family, and they was -twins; but they were only year-old babies and didn't amount to anything. -The two oldest Wilkins girls, the taffy-coloured-haired one and the -squint-eyed one, each had one of the twins, taking care of it. And the -other Wilkins girl, the pretty one, she had one of those big dolls made -as big as a baby. - -They were rolling those babies and the doll around the grass in a -wheelbarrow, and the wheel came off, and that's how Freckles happened to -go over. - -"Up in the attic," says the taffy-coloured-haired one, when he had fixed -up the wheelbarrow, "there's a little old express wagon with one wheel -off that would be better'n this wheelbarrow. Maybe you could fix that -wheel on, too, Harold." - -Freckles, he fell for it. After he got the wagon fixed, they got to -playing charades and fool girl games like that. The hired girl was off -for the afternoon, and pretty soon Mrs. Wilkins hollered up the stairs -that she was going to be gone for an hour, and to take good care of the -twins, and then we were alone in the place. - -Well, it wasn't much fun for me. They played and they played, and I -stuck to Freckles--which his name was called nothing but Harold all that -afternoon, and for the first time I said to myself "Harold" seemed to -fit. I stuck to him because a dog should stick to his boy, and a boy -should stick to his dog, no matter what the disgrace. But after while -I got pretty tired and lay down on a rug, and a new kind of flea struck -me. After I had chased him down and cracked him with my teeth I went to -sleep. - -I must have slept pretty sound and pretty long. All of a sudden I waked -up with a start, and almost choking, for the place was smoky. I barked -and no one answered. - -I ran out on to the landing, and the whole house was full of smoke. The -house was on fire, and it looked like I was alone in it. I went down the -back stairway, which didn't seem so full of smoke, but the door that let -out on to the first-floor landing was locked, and I had to go back up -again. - -By the time I got back up, the front stairway was a great deal fuller -of smoke, and I could see glints of flame winking through it way down -below. But it was my only way out of that place. On the top step I -stumbled over a gray wool bunch of something or other, and I picked it -up in my mouth. Thinks I, "That is Freckles's gray sweater, that he is -so stuck on. I might as well take it down to him." - -It wasn't so hard for a lively dog to get out of a place like that, I -thought. But I got kind of confused and excited, too. And it struck me -all of a sudden, by the time I was down to the second floor, that that -sweater weighed an awful lot. - -1 dropped it on the second floor, and ran into one of the front bedrooms -and looked out. - -By jings! the whole town was in the front yard and in the street. - -And in the midst of the crowd was Mrs. Wilkins, carrying on like mad. - -"My baby!" she yelled. "Save my baby. Let me loose! I'm going after my -baby!" - -I stood up on my hind legs, with my head just out of that bedroom -window, and the flame and smoke licking up all around me, and barked. - -"My doggie! My doggie!" yells Freckles, who was in the crowd, "I must -save my doggie!" And he made a run for the house, but someone grabbed -him and slung him back. - -And Mrs. Wilkins made a run, but they held her, too. The front of the -house was one sheet of flame. Old Pop Wilkins, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, -was jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Wilkins yelling, here was her -baby. He had a real baby in one arm and that big doll in the other, and -was so excited he thought he had both babies. Later I heard what had -happened. The kids had thought they were getting out with both twins but -one of them had saved the doll and left a twin behind. The squint-eyed -girl and the taffy-coloured-haired girl and the pretty girl was howling -as loud as their mother. And every now and then some man would make a -rush for the front door, but the fire would drive him back. And everyone -was yelling advice to everyone else, except one man who was calling on -the whole town to get him an axe. The volunteer fire engine was there, -but there wasn't any water to squirt through it, and it had been backed -up too near the house and had caught fire and was burning up. - -Well, I thinks that baby will likely turn up in the crowd somewhere, -after all, and I'd better get out of there myself while the getting was -good. I ran out of the bedroom, and run into that bunched-up gray bundle -again. - -I ain't saying that I knew it was the missing twin in a gray shawl when -I picked it up the second time. And I ain't saying that I didn't know -it. But the fact is that I did pick it up. I don't make any brag that I -would have risked my life to save Freckles's sweater. It may be I was so -rattled I just picked it up because I had had it in my mouth before and -didn't quite know what I was doing. - -But the _record_ is something you can't go behind, and the record is -that I got out the back way and into the back yard with that bundle -swinging from my mouth, and walked round into the front yard and laid -that bundle down--_and it was the twin!_ - -1 don't make any claim that I _knew_ it was the twin till I got into the -front yard, mind you. But you can't prove I _didn't_ know it was. - -And nobody tried to prove it. The gray bundle let out a squall. - -"My baby!" yells Mrs. Wilkins. And she kissed me! I rubbed it off with -my paw. And then the taffy-coloured-haired one kissed me. And the first -thing I knew the pretty one kissed me. But when I saw the squint-eyed -one coming I got behind Freckles and barked. - -"Three cheers for Spot!" yelled the whole town. And they give them. - -And then I saw what the lay of the land was, so 1 wagged my tail and -barked. - -It called for that hero stuff, and I throwed my head up and looked -noble--and pulled it. - -An hour before Freckles and me had been outcasts. And now we was Public -Characters again. We walked down Main Street, and we owned it. And -we hadn't any more than got to Doc Watson's drug store than in rushed -Heinie Hassenyager with a lump of Hamburg steak, and with tears in his -eyes. - -"It's got chicken livers mixed in it, too!" says Heinie. I ate it. But -while I ate it, I growled at him. - - - - -WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) - -Never did I suppose that I would be a bloodhound in an "Uncle Tom's -Cabin" show. But I have been one, and my constant wish is that it has -not made me too proud and haughty. For proud and haughty dogs, sooner -or later, all have their downfalls. The dog that was the rightful -bloodhound in that show was the proudest and haughtiest dog I ever met, -and he had his downfall. - -Other proud and haughty dogs I have seen, in my time; and some of them -I have licked, and some of them have licked me. For instance, there was -the one that used to be a blind man's dog on a street corner in Chicago. -He was a tough, loud-barking, red-eyed dog, full of suspiciousness and -fleas; and his disposition was so bad that it was even said that if one -of his fleas bit an ordinary dog, that ordinary dog would swell up where -he was bit as if a hornet had stung him. He was proud of those fleas and -proud of being that ornery; but he had his downfall. - -Another proud and haughty dog I knew belonged to the dog and pony part -of a circus that came to our town once. He sat in a little cart in the -street parade, with a clown's hat and jacket on, and drove a Shetland -pony. You couldn't get him into a fight; he would just grin and say he -was worth too much money to risk himself in a fight, especially as the -money he was worth did not belong to him anyhow, but to the circus that -owned him. He said it wouldn't be honest to risk other people's money -just because he wanted to fight; but I have never believed that he -really wanted to fight. He grinned mostly all the time, a conceited kind -of grin, and he would up-end himself and stand on his head for you to -admire him, and then flop over and bark and look proud of his own tricks -and proud of the money he was worth. But he had his downfall right in -the midst of his greatest pride, for a brindle Tom-cat with one eye -went after him right in the middle of that street parade, and he left -that cart very quickly, and it nearly broke up the parade. - -But the proudest and haughtiest of all was the bloodhound that owned -that Uncle Tom show--leastways, he acted as if he owned it. It was a -show that showed in a tent, like a regular circus, and it stayed in our -town three days. It had a street parade, too; and this bloodhound was -led along at the head of the street parade with a big heavy muzzle on, -and he was loaded down with chains and shackles so he could hardly walk. -Besides the fellow that led him, there were two more men that followed -along behind him and held on to chains that were fastened to his collar. -In front of him marched the Uncle Tom of that show; and every now and -then the bloodhound would struggle to get at Uncle Tom and be pulled -back. He was a very dangerous-looking dog, and you thought to yourself -what a lot of damage he would probably do if he was ever to bite those -chains to pieces and eat up those three men that held him and chew Uncle -Tom and then run loose into the world. Every step he took he would toss -his head and jangle those chains and growl. - -After the parade was over, a lot of us dogs and boys went down to the -lot where the show was to be held. We were hanging around the tent where -the actors were eating, and that bloodhound dog was there without chains -like any other dog, and us dogs got to talking with him. - -"You country-town dogs," he says to Mutt Mulligan, who is a friend of -mine and some considerable dog himself, "don't want to come fussin' -around too close to my cook tent or my show! Us troupers ain't got any -too much use for you hick dogs, anyhow." - -"Oh, it's _your_ show, is it?" says Mutt. - -"Whose show did you think it was?" says that bloodhound dog, very -haughty. - -"1 thought from all those chains and things, maybe the show owned you, -instead of you owning the show," says Mutt. - -"You saw who led that street parade, didn't you?" says the bloodhound -dog. "Well, that ought to tell you who the chief actor of this show is. -This here show is built up around me. If anything was to happen to me, -there couldn't be any show." - -Mutt, he gave me a signal with his tail to edge in a little closer, and -I sidled up to where I could grab a front leg unexpected to him, if he -made a pass at Mutt. And then Mutt says, sneering so his teeth stuck out -and his nose wrinkled: - -"Something's goin' to happen to you, if you ain't more polite and -peaceable in your talk." - -"What's goin' to happen to me?" says that bloodhound dog. - -"Don't you let them bristles rise around your neck," says Mutt, "or -you'll find out what's goin' to happen to you." - -"Whose bristles are they?" says that bloodhound dog. - -"It don't make any difference whose bristles they are," says Mutt. "No -dog can stick his bristles up into my face like that and get away with -it. When I see bristles stand up, I take it personal." - -But just then Old Uncle Zeb White, who is coloured, come amoseyin' -along, and that Tom-show dog barked out: - -"Somebody hold me! Quick! Somebody muzzle me! Somebody better put my -chains on to me again! Somebody better tell that coloured man to clear -out of here! I've been trained to chase coloured men! What do they mean -by letting that coloured man get near my show tent?" - -Old Uncle Zeb, he is the quietest and most peaceable person anywhere, -amongst dogs, boys, or humans, and the janitor of the Baptist church. He -is the only coloured man in our town, and is naturally looked up to and -respected with a good deal of admiration and curiosity on that account, -and also because he is two hundred years old. He used to be the -bodyservant of General George Washington, he says, until General -Washington set him free. And then along comes Abraham Lincoln after -a while and sets him free again, he says. And being set free by two -prominent men like that, Uncle Zeb figures he is freer than anybody -else, and I have heard him tell, time and again, how he can't speak -kindly enough of them two white gentlemen. - -"Don't anybody sick me on to that coloured man," says this bloodhound -dog. "If I was to be sicked on to that coloured man, this whole town -couldn't pull me off again! I been trained to it, I tell you!" - -Which it was easy enough to see he really didn't want to start anything; -it was just his pride and haughtiness working in him. Just then -Freckles Watson, who is my boy that I own, and Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt -Mulligan's boy, both says: "Sick 'im!" Not that they understood what -us dogs was talking about, but they saw me and Mutt sidling around that -Tom-show dog, and it looked to them like a fight could be commenced. But -the Tom-show dog, when he heard that "Sick 'im!" jumped and caught Uncle -Zeb by a leg of his trousers. Then Uncle Zeb's own dog, which his name -is Burning Deck after a piece Uncle Zeb heard recited one time, comes -a-bulging and a-bouncing through the crowd and grabs that Tom-show dog -by the neck. - -They rolled over and over, and into the eating tent, and under the -table. The actors jumped up, and the table got tipped over, and the -whole meal and the tin dishes they was eating off of and all the actors -and the benches and the dogs was wallowing and banging and kicking and -barking and shouting on the ground in a mess, and all of us other dogs -run in to help Burning Deck lick that bloodhound, and all the boys -followed their dogs in to see a square deal, and then that tent come -down on top of everything, and believe me it was some enjoyable time. -And I found quite a sizeable piece of meat under there in the mix-up, -and I thinks to myself I better eat that while I can get it, so I -crawled out with it. Outside is sitting Uncle Zeb, watching that -fallen-down tent heaving and twisting and squirming, and I heard him say -to himself: - -"White folks is allers gittin' up some kin' of entuh-tainment fo' us -cullud people to look at! Us cullud people suah does git treated fine in -dese heah Nothe'n towns!" - -Pretty soon everybody comes crawling out from under that tent, and they -straightens her up, and the boss of the show begins to talk like Uncle -Zeb has done the whole thing, and Uncle Zeb just sits on the grass and -smiles and scratches his head. And finally the boss of the show says to -Uncle Zeb could he hire Burning Deck for the bloodhound's part? Because -Burning Deck has just about chewed that proud and haughty dog to pieces, -and they've got to have a bloodhound! - -"No, suh," says Uncle Zeb. "No, suh! I thank yo' kindly fo' yo' offer, -suh, but Burnin' Deck, he ain't gwine inter no show whah he likely ter -be sicked on ter no cullud pusson. Burnin' Deck, he allers been a good -Republican, bringed up that-a-way, des de same as me, an' we ain't gwine -ter take no paht in any gwines-on agin' de cullud nation." - -"But see here," says the boss. "In this show the coloured people get all -the best of it. In this show the coloured people go to Heaven!" - -Uncle Zeb says he had heard a good deal about that Uncle Tom show in his -life, first and last, and because he had heard so much, he went to see -it one time. And he says if getting chased by bloodhounds and whipped by -whips is giving them the best of it, he hopes he never obtains admission -to any show where they get the worst of it. The boss, he says that show -is the show that helped make the coloured people free, and Uncle Zeb -ought to be proud of Burning Deck acting in it. But Uncle Zeb says he -ain't to be fooled; it was General Washington set 'em free first, and -Abraham Lincoln set 'em free the second time, and now President Wilson -is licking them Germans and setting them free again. And as for him, he -says, he will stick to his own white folks that he knows and janitors -for and whose clothes fit him, and Burning Deck will do the same. And -as far as them Tom-show coloured folks' going to heaven is concerned, he -reckons he don't want to be chased there by no bloodhounds; and it ain't -likely that a man that has janitored for a Baptist church as faithful as -he has would go anywhere else, anyhow. So he takes Burning Deck and goes -along home. - -"I've got to have a dog," says the boss, watching them get the tent -fixed up, and rubbing his head. - -"Would Spot do?" says Freckles, which is my boy, Spot being me. - -Well, I never expected to be an actor, as I said before. But they struck -a bargain, which Freckles was to get free admission to that show, and I -was to be painted and dyed up some and be a bloodhound. Which the boss -said the regular bloodhound which Burning Deck had eat so much of wasn't -really a bloodhound, anyhow, but only a big mongrel with bloodhound -notions in his head. - -Well, maybe you've seen that show. Which all the bloodhound has to do is -to run across the stage chasing that Uncle Tom, and Freckles was to run -across with me, so there wasn't much chance to go wrong. - -And nothing would have gone wrong if it hadn't been for Burning Deck. -Uncle Zeb White must have got over his grouch against that show, for -there he was sitting in the front row with a new red handkerchief around -his throat and his plug hat on his knees, and Burning Deck was there -with him. I never had anything but liking for Uncle Zeb, for he knows -where to scratch dogs. But Burning Deck and me have never been close -friends, on account of him being jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches you -too long. He even is jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches a pig, which all -the pigs in town that can get loose have a habit of coming to Uncle -Zeb's cottage to be scratched, and they say around town that some of -those pigs never find their way home again. Squeals have been heard -coming from Uncle Zeb's kitchen, but the rest of the pigs never seem to -learn. - -But no self-respecting dog would be jealous if his boss scratched a pig. -For after all, what is a pig? It is just a pig, and that is all you -can say for it. A pig is not a person; a pig is something to eat. But -Burning Deck is a peculiar dog, and he gets ideas into his head. And so, -right in the midst of the show, when I chased that coloured man across -the stage, Burning Deck all of a sudden jumped up on to the platform and -grabbed me. I would have licked him then and there, but what was left of -the show's bloodhound come crawling out on to the stage dragging two -of his legs, and Burning Deck turned from me to him, and then all the -actors run on to the stage to save what was left of the bloodhound, and -Si Emery, the city marshal, threw open his coat so you could see his big -star and climbed on to the stage and arrested everybody, and somebody -dropped the curtain down right into the midst of it. - -And the way it happened, on the outside of the curtain was left Freckles -and me and the Little Eva of that show, which she is beautiful, with -long yellow hair and pink cheeks and white clothes like an angel. And -before Freckles could stop her, she took hold of him by the hand and -says to the audience won't they please be kind to the poor travelling -troupers and not let them be under arrest, and let the show go on? And -she cried considerable, and all through her crying you could hear Si -Emery behind the curtain arresting people; and after while some of the -women in the audience got to crying, too, and the city fathers was all -in the audience, and they went up on to the stage and told Si, for the -sake of Little Eva, to release everyone he had arrested, and after that -the show went on. - -Well, after the show was out, quite a lot of the dogs and boys that was -friends of mine and of Freckles was waiting for us. Being in a show like -that made us heroes. But some of them were considerably jealous of us, -too, and there would have been some fights, but Freckles says kind of -dignified that he does not care to fight until his show is out of town, -but after that he will take on any and all who dare--that is, he says, -if he doesn't decide to go with that show, which the show is crazy -to have him do. And me and him and Stevie Stevenson, which is his -particular chum, goes off and sets down on the schoolhouse steps, and -Stevie tells him what a good actor he was, running across the stage with -me after that Uncle Tom. But Freckles, he is sad and solemn, and he only -fetches a sigh. - -"What's eatin' you, Freckles?" Stevie asks him. Freckles, he sighs a -couple of times more, and then he says: - -"Stevie, I'm in love." - -"Gosh, Freckles," says Stevie. "Honest?" - -"Honest Injun," says Freckles. - -"Do you know who with?" says Stevie. - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles. "If you didn't know who with, how would you -know you was?" - -But Stevie, he says you might be and not know who with, easy enough. -Once, he says, he was like that. He says he was feeling kind of queer -for a couple of weeks last spring, and they dosed him and dosed him, -with sassafras and worm-medicine and roots and herbs, and none of it did -any good. His mother says it is growing-pains, and his father says it -is either laziness and not wanting to hoe in the garden or else it is -a tapeworm. And he thinks himself maybe it is because he is learning to -chew and smoke tobacco on the sly and keeps swallowing a good deal of it -right along. But one day he hears his older sister and another big girl -talking when they don't know he is around, and they are in love, both -of them, and from what he can make out, their feelings is just like his. -And it come to him all of a sudden he must be in love himself, and it -was days and days before he found out who it was that he was in love -with. - -"Who was it?" asks Freckles. - -"It turned out to be Mabel Smith," says Stevie, "and I was scared plumb -to death for a week or two that she would find out about it. I used to -put toads down her back and stick burrs into her hair so she wouldn't -never guess it." - -Stevie says he went through days and days of it, and for a while he was -scared that it might last forever, and he don't ever want to be in love -again. Suppose it should be found out on a fellow that he was in love? - -"Stevie," says Freckles, "this is different." - -Stevie asks him how he means. - -"I _want_ her to know," says Freckles. - -"Great Scott!" says Stevie. "No!" - -"Uh-huh!" - -"It don't show on you, Freckles," says Stevie. - -Freckles says of course it don't show. Only first love shows, he says. -Once before he was in love, he says, and that showed on him. That was -last spring, and he was only a kid then, and he was in love with Miss -Jones, the school teacher, and didn't know how to hide it. But this -time he can hide it, because this time he feels that it is different. He -swallows down the signs of it, he says, the way you keep swallowing down -the signs of it when you have something terrible like heart-disease or -stomach-trouble, and nobody will ever know it about him, likely, till -after he is dead. - -And when he is dead, Freckles says, they will all wonder what he died -of, and maybe he will leave a note, wrote in his own blood, to tell. And -they will all come in Injun file and pass through the parlour, he says, -where his casket will be set on to four chairs, and She will come filing -by and look at him, and she will say not to bury him yet, for there is a -note held tight in his hand. - -And everybody will say: "A note? A note? Who can it be to?" - -And She will say to pardon her for taking the liberty at a time like -this, but She has saw her own name on to that note. And then, Freckles -says, She will open it and read it out loud right there in the parlour -to all of them, and they will all say how the departed must have liked -her to draw up a note to her wrote in his own blood like that. - -And then, Freckles says, She will say, yes, he must have liked her, and -that she liked him an awful lot, too, but She never knew he liked her, -and She wished now she had of known he liked her an awful lot, because -to write a note in his own blood like that showed that he liked her an -awful lot, and if he only was alive now she would show she liked him an -awful lot and would kiss him to show it. And she would not be scared to -kiss him in front of all those people standing around the sides of the -parlour, dead or alive. And then she would kiss him, Freckles says. And -maybe, Freckles says, he wouldn't be dead after all, but only just lying -there like the boy that travelled around with the hypnotizer who was put -in a store window and laid there all the time the hypnotizer was in town -with everybody making bets whether they could see him breathing or not. -And then, Freckles says, he would get up out of his casket, and his -Sunday suit with long pants would be on, and he would take the note and -say: "Yes, it is to you, and I wrote it with my own blood!" - -Which, Freckles says, he has a loose tooth he could suck blood out -of any time, not wanting to scrape his arm on account of blood poison -breaking out. Though he says he had thought of using some of Spot's -blood, but that would seem disrespectful, somehow. And the tooth-blood -seemed disrespectful, too, for he did not know the girl right well. But -it would have to be the tooth-blood, he guessed, for there was a fellow -out by the county line got lockjaw from blood poison breaking out on -him, and died of it. And when She handed him the note, Freckles says, -he would tell the people in the parlour: "Little Eva and I forgive you -all!" - -"Little Eva!" says Stevie. "Gosh all fish hooks, Freckles, it ain't the -girl in the show, is it?" - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles, kind of sad and proud. "Freckles," says Stevie, -after they had both set there and thought, saying nothing, for a while, -"I got just one more question to ask you: Are you figuring you will get -married? Is it as bad as that?" - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles. - -Stevie, he thought for another while, and then he got up and put his -hand on to Freckles's shoulder. - -"Freckles, old scout," he says, "good-bye. I'm awful sorry for you, but -I can't chase around with you any more. I can't be seen running with -you. I won't tell this on you, but if it was ever to come out I wouldn't -want to be too thick with you. You know what the Dalton Gang would do to -you, Freck, if they ever got on to this. I won't blab, but I can't take -no risks about chumming with you." - -And he went away and left Freckles and me sitting there. But in a minute -he came back and said: - -"Freckles, you know that iron sling-shot crotch of mine? You always used -to be stuck on that slingshot crotch, Freckles, and I never would trade -it to you. Well, Freckles, you can have that darned old iron slingshot -crotch free for nothing!" - -"Stevie," says Freckles, "I don't want it." - -"Gosh!" says Stevie, and he went off, shaking his head. - -And I was considerable worried myself. I tagged him along home, and he -wasn't natural. He went into the house, and I tagged him along in and up -to his room, and he took no notice of me, though I'm not supposed to be -there at all. - -And what do you suppose that kid did?--he went and washed his ears. -It was midnight, and there wasn't any one to make him do it, and there -wasn't any one to see his ears but me, but he washed 'em careful, inside -and out. And then he wet his hair and combed it. First he parted it on -one side, and then he parted it x on the other, and then he blushed and -parted it in the middle. I was sitting on the floor by the foot of the -bed, and he was facing the looking-glass, but I saw the blush because it -spread clear around to the back of his neck. - -And then he went to the closet and put on his long pants that belonged -to his Sunday suit. The looking-glass wasn't big enough so he could -see his hair and his long pants all at the same time, but he tilted the -glass and squirmed and twisted around and saw them bit by bit. At first -I thought maybe he was going out again, even at that time of night, but -he wasn't; all he was doing was admiring himself. Just then his father -pounded on the wall and asked him if he wasn't in bed yet, and he said -he was going. He put the light out right away. But he didn't go to bed. -He just sat in the dark with his clean ears and his long pants on and -his hair parted in the middle, and several times before I went to sleep -myself I heard him sigh and say: "Little Eva! Little Eva's dying! Little -Eva!" - -He must have got so tired he forgot to undress, staying up that late and -everything, for in the morning when his father pounded on the door he -didn't answer. I was under the bed, and I stayed there. Pretty soon his -father pounded again, and then he came into the room. And there Freckles -was lying on the bed with his Sunday pants on and his hair parted in the -middle and his ears clean. - -"Harold!" says his father, and shook him, "what does this mean?" - -Harold is Freckles's other name, but if any one of his size calls him -Harold, there will be a fight. He sat up on the bed and says, still -sleepy: - -"What does what mean, Pa?" - -"Your lying there asleep with your clothes on," says his father.. - -"I was dressing, and I went to sleep again," says Freckles. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father. "It looks like it, don't it?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -I had crawled out to the foot of the bed where I could see them, and he -was still sleepy, but he was trying hard to think up something. - -"It looks a lot like it," says his father. "If you had slept in that -bed, the covers would have been turned down, wouldn't they?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, looking at them. - -"Well, what then?" says his father. - -"Well, Pa," says Freckles, "I guess I must have made that bed up again -in my sleep, and I never knew it." - -"Humph!" says his father. "Do you do that often?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, "a good deal lately." - -"Harold," says his father, real interested, "aren't you feeling well -these days?" - -"No, Pa," says Freckles, "I ain't felt so very well for quite a while." - -"Humph!" says his pa. "How does it come when you dressed yourself you -put on your Sunday pants, and this is only Tuesday?" - -Harold says he guesses he did that in his sleep, too, the same time he -made the bed up. - -His pa wants to know if that has ever happened to him before. - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, "once I woke up in the moonlight right out -on one of the top limbs of the big maple tree in the front yard, with my -Sunday suit on." - -"Humph!" says his father. "And was your hair parted in the middle that -time, too?" - -Freckles, he blushes till you can hardly see his freckles, and feels of -his hair. But he is so far in, now, that he can't get out. So he says: - -"Yes, sir, every time I get taken that way, so I go around in my sleep, -Pa, I find my hair has been parted in the middle, the next morning." - -"Uh-huh!" says his pa. "Let's see your ears." And he pinched one of them -while he was looking at it, and Freckles says, "Ouch!" - -"I thought so," says his pa, but didn't say what he thought right away. -Then pretty soon he says: "Those ears have been washed since that neck -has." - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -"Did you do that in your sleep, too?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Do you always do that when you have those spells of yours?" - -"Yes, sir, I always find my ears have been washed the next morning." - -"But never your neck?" - -"Sometimes my neck has, and sometimes it hasn't," said Freckles. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father, and took notice of me. I wagged my tail, and -hung my tongue out, and acted friendly and joyful and happy. If you -want to stay on good terms with grown-up humans, you have to keep them -jollied along. I wasn't supposed to be in the house at night, anyhow, -but I hoped maybe it would be overlooked. - -"Did you paint and dye that dog up that way?" asked Freckles's father. -For of course the paint and dye they had put on me was still there. - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. "Nearly always when I come to myself in the -morning I find I have dyed Spot." - -"That's queer, too," said his father. And then Harold says he dyes other -dogs, too, and once when he woke up in the maple tree there were three -strange dogs he had dyed at the foot of it. - -"Harold," says his father, "how often do these spells come on?" - -Freckles, he says, some weeks they come often and some weeks hardly -ever. - -"Humph!" says his father. "And when they come on, do you notice it is -harder for you to tell the truth than at any other times?" - -Freckles says he doesn't know what he says in his sleep when those -spells take him, nor even whether he talks in his sleep or not, but he -guesses if he does talk in his sleep what he says would be talk about -his dreams, but he can't remember what his dreams are, so he doesn't -know whether what he says is true or not. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father. "Harold, do you own a gun?" - -"No, sir," says Harold. Which is true, for he only owns a third interest -in a gun. Tom Mulligan and Stevie Stevenson own the rest of it, and they -are keeping it hid in the rafters of Tom Mulligan's barn till they can -save money enough to get it fixed so it will shoot. - -"You haven't killed anybody in these spells of yours, have you, Harold?" -asks his father. - -"No, sir," says Freckles. - -"How would you know if you had?" asks his father. - -Freckles says there would be blood on him next morning, wouldn't there? - -"Not," says his father, "if you stood at a distance and killed them with -a gun." - -Freckles knows he hasn't ever really had any of these spells he says he -has had, but from his looks I should judge he was scared, too, by the -way his father was acting. - -"Pa," he says, "has any one been found dead?" - -"The body hasn't been found yet," says his father, "but from what I -heard you say, early this morning in your sleep, I should judge one will -be found." - -I thinks to myself maybe Freckles does do things in his sleep after all, -and from the looks of his face he thinks so, too. He is looking scared. - -"Pa," he says, "who did I kill? What did I say?" - -"You said: 'Little Eva's dying! Little Eva's dying!'" said his father. -"I heard you say it over and over again in your sleep." - -Freckles, he gets red in the face again, and stares at his feet, and his -pa stands and grins at him for a minute or two. And then his pa says: -"Get into your weekday clothes and wash your face and neck to match your -ears, and come on down to breakfast. When you get ready to tell what's -on your mind, all right; but don't try to tell lies to your dad." - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -But he looked mighty gloomy. And when his father went out of the room -he got his fountain pen and sucked some blood out of his loose tooth and -tried to spit it into his fountain pen. From which I judged he was still -of a notion to write that letter and was pretty low in his mind. But he -couldn't spit it into the pen, right. And he cried a little, and then -saw me watching him crying and slapped at me with a hairbrush; and then -he petted me and I let him pet me, for a dog, if he is any sort of dog -at all, will always stand by his boy in trouble as well as gladness, and -overlook things. A boy hasn't got much sense, anyhow; and a boy without -a dog to keep him steered right must have a pretty tough time in the -world. - -If he was low in his mind then, he was lower in his mind before the -day was through. For after breakfast there was Stevie Stevenson and Tom -Mulligan waiting for him outside, and in spite of his promise, Stevie -has told everything to Tom. And Tom has a wart and offers some wart -blood to write that letter in. But Freckles says another person's blood -would not be fair and honourable. He has a wart of his own, if he wanted -to use wart blood, but wart blood is not to be thought of. What would -a lady think if she found out it was wart blood? It would be almost and -insult, wart blood would; it would be as bad as blood from a corn or -bunion. - -"Well, then," says Stevie, "the truth is that you don't want to write -that letter, anyhow. Last night you talked big about writing that -letter, but this morning you're hunting up excuses for not writing it." - -"I'll write it if I want to write it, and you can't stop me," says -Freckles. "And I won't write it if I don't want to write it, and nobody -of your size can make me." - -"I can too stop you," says Stevie, "if I want to." - -"You don't dast to want to stop me," says Freckles. - -"I do dast," says Stevie. - -"You don't," says Freckles. - -"I do," says Stevie. - -"You're a licked, licked liar--and so's your Aunt Mariar," says -Freckles. - -"I ain't got any Aunt Mariar," says Stevie. - -"You don't dast to have an Aunt Mariar," says Freckles. - -"I do dast," says Stevie. - -Then Tom put a chip on each of their shoulders, and pushed them at each -other, and the chips fell off, and they went down behind the barn and -had it out, and Freckles licked him. Which proves Freckles couldn't be -stopped from writing that note if he wanted to, and he was still so mad -that he wrote it right then and there back of the barn on a leaf torn -out of a notebook Tom Mulligan owned, with his fountain pen, using his -own nose bleed that Stevie had just drawed out of him; and he read out -loud what he wrote. It was: - -_Dear Miss Little Eva: The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is -sweet and so are you. Yours truly. Mr. H. Watson. This is wrote in my -own blood._ - -"Well, now, then," says Stevie, "where's the coffin?" - -"What do you mean, the coffin?" says Freckles. - -"Last night," says Stevie, "you was makin' a lot of brags, but this -morning it looks like you didn't have the sand to act up to them." - -"If you think you've got size enough to make me lay down into a coffin -with that note," says Freckles, "you got another think cornin' to you. -There ain't a kid my size, nor anywhere near my size, in this whole town -can make me lay down into a coffin with that note. And if you think so, -you just try it on!" - -Stevie, he doesn't want to fight any more. But Tom Mulligan says never -mind the casket. Nobody really wants him to lay in a casket anyhow. He -says he is willing to bet a million dollars Freckles doesn't dast to -carry that note to the show grounds and give it to that Little Eva. - -"I dast!" says Freckles. - -"Dastn't!" says Tom. - -"You don't dast to knock this chip off my shoulder," says Freckles. - -"I dast!" says Tom. And Stevie give him a push, and he did it. And they -had it. Freckles got him down and jammed his head into the ground. - -"Now, then," he says, "do I dast to carry that note, or don't I dast -to?" - -"You dast to," says Tom. "Leave me up." - -And that was the way it come about that Freckles had to carry the note, -though not wanting to at all. But he did it. We all went with him over -to the show grounds, Stevie Stevenson and Tom Mulligan and Mutt, Tom's -dog, and me. - -There was a lady sitting out in front of one of the tents on a chair. -She had been washing her hair, and it was spread out to dry over her -shoulders, and she was sewing on a pair of boy's pants. She had on a -pair of those big horn-rimmed glasses, and we could see from her hair, -which had gray in it, that she was quite an old lady, though small. I -heard later that she was all of thirty-five or thirty-six years old. - -The rest of us hung back a little ways, and Freckles went up to her and -took off his hat. - -She laid down her sewing and smiled at him. - -"Well, my little man, what is it?" she said. "Were you looking for -somebody?" - -"Yes, ma'am," says Freckles. He stuttered a little and he was standing -on one foot. - -"For whom?" she asked. - -"For Little Eva," says Freckles. - -The lady stared at him, and then she smiled again. - -"And what do you want with Little Eva, sonny?" she said. - -Freckles, he stands on the other foot a while, and says nothing. And -like as not he would have backed away, but Tom Mulligan yells: "You -don't dast give it to her, Freck!" - -Then Freckles hands her the letter and gulps and says: "A letter for -Miss Little Eva." - -The lady takes it and reads it. And then she reads it again. And then -she calls out: "Jim! Oh, Jim!" - -A man comes out of the tent, and she hands it to him. He reads it, and -his mouth drops open, and a pipe he is smoking falls on to the grass. - -"Jim," says the lady, "someone is making love to your wife!" - -Jim, he reads the letter again, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard -he bends double, and catches the back of the lady's chair. And she -laughs of a sudden and puts her hand in front of her face and laughs -again. And then Jim, he says to Freckles, who has been getting redder -and redder: - -"And who is Mr. H. Watson?" - -"Don't you get it?" says the lady, taking off her glasses to wipe them, -and pointing to Freckles. "This is the boy that owns the dog that played -the bloodhound last night, and _he_ is Mr. H. Watson!" - -And when she took off her glasses like that, we all saw she was the -Little Eva of that show! - -"Mr. H. Watson," says Jim to Freckles, "did you intend matrimony, or -were you trying to flirt?" - -"Quit your kidding him, Jim," says Little Eva, still laughing. "Can't -you see he's hacked nearly to death?" - -"None of your business what I intended!" yells Freckles to Jim. And he -picks up a clod of dirt and nearly hits Jim with it, and runs. And we -all run. But when we had run half a block, we looked back, and nobody -was following us. Jim and Little Eva had busted out laughing again, -and was laughing so hard they was hanging on to each other to keep from -falling down. - -"Good-bye, Mr. H. Watson," yells Jim. "Is it really your own blood?" - -And then began a time of disgrace for Freckles and me such as I never -hope to live through again. For the next thing those two boys that had -been his friends was both dancing round him laughing and calling him Mr. -H. Watson; and by the time we got down to the part of Main Street where -the stores are, every boy and every dog in town was dancing around -Freckles and hearing all about it and yelling, "H. Watson! Mr. H. -Watson! Is it your own blood? Is it your own blood, Mr. H. Watson?" - -Freckles and I did the best we could, fighting all that was our size -and some bigger; but after a couple of hours it got so that most any one -could lick us. Kids that was afraid to stand up to him the day before -could lick him easy, by now, and dogs I had always despised even to -argue with began to get my number. All you could hear, on every side, -was: "Is it your _own_ blood, Mr. Watson?" - -And at noon we went home, but Freckles didn't go into the house for -dinner at all. Instead, he went out to the barn and laid down in the -hay, and I crawled in there with him. And he cried and cried and choked -and choked. I felt sorry for him, and crawled up and licked his face. -But he took me by the scruff of the neck and slung me out of the haymow. -When I crawled back again, he kicked me in the ribs, but he had on -tennis shoes and it didn't hurt much, and anyhow I forgave him. And I -went and crawled back to where he was and nuzzled my head up under his -armpit. And then he cried harder and hugged me and said I was the best -dog in the world and the only friend he ever had. - -And then I licked his face again and he let me and we both felt better, -and pretty soon he went to sleep there and slept for an hour or so, with -his head on my ribs, and I lay there quiet so as not to wake him. Even -when a flea got me, I let that flea bite and didn't scratch for fear -of waking him. But after a while that flea got tired of me, and crawled -over on to Freckles, and he waked natural. And when he waked, he was -hungry, but he didn't want to go into the house for fear the story had -spread to the grown-ups and he would have to answer questions. So he -found a couple of raw turnips, and ate them, and a couple of apples, -only they were green, and he milked the cow a little into an old tin cup -and drank that. And in a little while he begins to have pains, and he -thinks he is getting heart's disease and is really going to die, but he -says to himself out loud if he dies now he won't get any credit for it, -and he would have enjoyed it more if he had died while he still thought -Little Eva was young and beautiful and probably going to marry him in -the end. - -But after awhile it seems turning from heart's disease into some kind of -stomach trouble; so he drinks some stuff out of a bottle that was left -in the barn last spring when Bessie, the old roan mare, had the colic, -and whether it is heart's disease or stomach trouble, that stuff cures -him. And him and me drift along downtown again to see if maybe the kids -have sort of begun to forget about it a little. - -But they hadn't. It had even spread to some of the grown-ups. We went -into Freckles's father's drug store, and Mr. Watson told Freckles to -step around to the post office and ask for his mail. And the clerk in -the post office when we come in, looks at Freckles very solemn and says: - -"Ah, here is Mr. H. Watson, after a letter! Will you have a letter -written in blood?" - -So Freckles told his dad there wasn't any mail, and we sneaked along -home again. That night at supper I was lying on the porch just outside -the dining room and the doors were open, and I heard Freckles's dad say: - -"Harold, would you like to go to the show to-night?" - -"No, Pa," says Freckles. - -His mother says that is funny; it is the first time she ever heard him -refuse to go to a show of any kind. And his father asks him if anything -special has happened that makes him want to stay away from this -particular show. I guess when his father says that, Freckles thinks his -father is wise, too, so he says he has changed his mind and will go to -the show after all. He didn't want to start any argument. - -So him and me sneaks down to the show grounds again. It is getting dark, -but too early for the show, and every kid we know is hanging around -outside. And what Freckles has had to stand for in the way of kidding -beforehand is nothing to what comes now. For they all gets around him in -a ring and shouts: "Here is the bridegroom! Here is Mr. H. Watson come -to get married to Little Eva! And the wedding invitations are wrote in -his own blood! His own blood! His own blood!" - -And the grown-ups beginning to go into the show all tell each other what -the kids are getting at, and we hear them laughing to each other about -it. Him and me was about the two downest-tail-and-head-hanging-est -persons you ever saw. But we stayed. There wasn't no place else to go, -except home, and we didn't want to go home and be asked again if there -was any special reason for staying away from that particular show. - -And right in the midst of all the yelling and jostling around, a kid -about Freckles's size comes out of the show tent and walks over to the -bunch and says: - -"Now, then, what's all this yelling about Little Eva for?" - -All the kids shut up, and this show kid says to Freckles: - -"Was they yelling bridegroom at _you?_" - -Freckles, he was down, but he wasn't going to let any out-of-town boy -get away with anything, either. All our own gang had him licked and -disgraced, and he knew it; but this was a stranger, and so he spunked -up. - -"S'pose they was yelling bridegroom at me," he says. "Ain't they got a -right to yell bridegroom at me if they want to? This is a free country." - -"You won't be yelled bridegroom at if I say you won't," says the show -kid. - -"I'll be yelled bridegroom at for all of you," says Freckles. "What's it -to you?" - -"You won't be yelled bridegroom at about my mother," saws the show kid. - -"Who's being yelled bridegroom at about your mother?" says Freckles. -"I'm being yelled at about Little Eva." - -"Well, then," says this kid, "Little Eva is my mother, and you got to -stop being yelled at about her." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "you just stop me being yelled at if you -think you're big enough." - -"I could lick two your size," says the show kid. "But I won't fight -here. I won't fight in front of this crowd. If I was to fight here, -your crowd might jump into me, too, and I would maybe have to use brass -knucks, and if I was to use brass knucks, I would likely kill someone -and be arrested for it. I'll fight in private like a duel, as gentlemen -ought to." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "if any one was to use brass knucks on me, -I would have to use brass knucks on them, and I won't fight any one that -uses brass knucks in private." - -"Well, then," says the show kid, "my brass knucks is in my trunk in the -tent, and you don't dast to follow me and fight with bare fists." - -"My brass knucks is at home," says Freckles, which was the first I knew -he ever had any, "and I do dast." So each one searched the other for -brass knucks, and they went off together, me following. The fight was to -be under the bridge over the crick down by the school-house on the edge -of the woods. But when they got down there, the strip of sand by the -side of the crick was in shadow. So they went on top of the bridge, to -fight in the moonlight. But the moonlight was so bright they were afraid -they would be seen by some farmer coming into town and maybe told on -and arrested. So they sat down on the edge of the bridge with their feet -hanging over and talked about where they had better fight to be private, -as gentlemen should. And they got to talking of other things. And pretty -soon they began to kind of like each other, and Freckles says: - -"What's your name?" - -"Percy," says the show kid. "But you better not call me that. I'd fight -if I was called that out of the family. Call me Spike. What's your -name?" - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "1 don't like mine either; mine is Harold. -But call me Freckles." - -Spike says he wished he had more freckles himself. But he don't get much -chance for freckles, he says; his mother takes such awful good care of -all the complexions in their family. - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "I think your mother is an awful nice -lady." - -Spike, all of a sudden, bursts out crying then and says how would -Freckles like it if people wrote notes to _his_ mother and was yelled at -about her? And Freckles says how would _he_ like it if _he_ was the one -was yelled at, and he never had any idea the lady was grown up and had a -family, and he got to sniffling some himself. - -"Spike," he says, "you tell your mother I take it all back. You tell her -I was in love with her till I seen her plain off the stage, and since I -have seen her and her family plain, I don't care two cents for her. And -I'll write her an apology for falling into love with her." - -Which he done it, then and there, in the moonlight, jabbing his fountain -pen into his wart, and it read: - -_Dear Little Eva. Since I seen your husband and son I decided not to say -anything about matrimony, and beg your pardon for it. This is wrote in -my blood and sets you free to fall in love with who you please. You -are older and look different from what I expected, and so let us forget -bygones._ - -_Yours truly,_ - -_H. Watson._ - -"Spike," says Freckles, when they were walking back to town together, -chewing licorice and pretending it was tobacco, "do you really have some -brass knucks?" - -"No," says Spike. "Do you, Freckles?" - -"No," says Freckles. - -And they went back to the tent together and asked the gang if they -wanted any of their game, and nobody did, and the disgrace lifted. - -And I felt so good about that and the end of the love-affair and -everything, that right then and there I hunted up that Burning Deck dog -and give him the licking of his life, which I had never been able to do -before. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - -***** This file should be named 51917-8.txt or 51917-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/1/51917/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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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: The Revolt of the Oyster - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51917] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - </h1> - <h2> - By Don Marquis - </h2> - <h3> - Garden City, New York - </h3> - <h3> - Doubleday, Page and Company - </h3> - <h4> - 1922 - </h4> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> “IF WE COULD ONLY SEE” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACCURSED HAT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> TOO AMERICAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE SADDEST MAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> BILL PATTERSON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog) - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - </h2> - <p> - “<i>Our remote ancestor was probably arboreal.”</i>—Eminent - scientist. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>rom his hut in the - tree-top Probably Arboreal looked lazily down a broad vista, still strewn - with fallen timber as the result of a whirlwind that had once played havoc - in that part of the forest, toward the sea. Beyond the beach of hard white - sand the water lay blue and vast and scarcely ruffled by the light morning - wind. All the world and his wife were out fishing this fine day. Probably - Arboreal could see dozens of people from where he crouched, splashing in - the water or moving about the beach; and even hear their cries borne - faintly to him on the breeze. They fished, for the most part, with their - hands; and when one caught a fish it was his custom to eat it where he - caught it, standing in the sea. - </p> - <p> - In Probably Arboreal's circle, one often bathed and breakfasted - simultaneously; if a shark or saurian were too quick for one, one - sometimes was breakfasted upon as one bathed. - </p> - <p> - In the hut next to Probably Arboreal, his neighbour, Slightly Simian, was - having an argument with Mrs. Slightly, as usual. And, as usual, it - concerned the proper manner of bringing up the children. Probably listened - with the bored distaste of a bachelor. - </p> - <p> - “I <i>will</i> slap his feet every time he picks things up with them!” - screamed Slightly Simian's wife, an accredited shrew, in her shrill - falsetto.. - </p> - <p> - “It's <i>natural</i> for a child to use his feet that way,” insisted the - good-natured Slightly, “and I don't intend to have the boy punished for - what's natural.” Probably Arboreal grinned; he could fancy the expression - on Old Sim's face as his friend made this characteristically plebeian - plea. - </p> - <p> - “You can understand once for all, Slightly,” said that gentleman's wife in - a tone of finality, “that I intend to supervise the bringing-up of these - children. Just because your people had neither birth nor breeding nor - manners——” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. S.!” broke in Slightly, with a warning in his voice. “Don't you work - around to anything caudal, now, Mrs. S.! Or there'll be trouble. You get - me?” - </p> - <p> - On one occasion Mrs. Slightly had twitted her spouse with the fact that - his grandfather had a tail five inches long; she had never done so again. - Slightly Simian himself, in his moments of excitement, picked things up - with his feet, but like many other men of humble origin who have become - personages in their maturity, he did not relish having such faults - commented upon. - </p> - <p> - “Poor old Sim,” mused Probably Arboreal, as he slid down the tree and - ambled toward the beach, to be out of range of the family quarrel. “She - married him for his property, and now she's sore on him because there - isn't more of it.” - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasant effect of the quarrel, Probably - found his mind dwelling upon matrimony that morning. A girl with bright - red hair, into which she had tastefully braided a number of green parrot - feathers, hit him coquettishly between the shoulder blades with a handful - of wet sand and gravel as he went into the water. Ordinarily he would - either have taken no notice at all of her, or else would have broken her - wrist in a slow, dignified, manly sort of way. But this morning he grabbed - her tenderly by the hair and sentimentally ducked her. When she was nearly - drowned he released her. She came out of the water squealing with rage - like a wild-cat and bit him on the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Parrot Feathers,” he said to her, with an unwonted softness in his eyes, - as he clutched her by the throat and squeezed, “beware how you trifle with - a man's affections—some day I may take you seriously!” - </p> - <p> - He let the girl squirm loose, and she scrambled out upon the beach and - threw shells and jagged pieces of flint at him, with an affectation of - coyness. He chased her, caught her by the hair again, and scored the wet - skin on her arms with a sharp stone, until she screamed with the pain, and - as he did it he hummed an old love tune, for to-day there was an April - gladness in his heart. - </p> - <p> - “Probably! Probably Arboreal!” He spun around to face the girl's father, - Crooked Nose, who was contentedly munching a mullet. - </p> - <p> - “Probably,” said Crooked Nose, “you are flirting with my daughter!” - </p> - <p> - “Father!” breathed the girl, ashamed of her parent's tactlessness. “How - can you say that!” - </p> - <p> - “I want to know,” said Crooked Nose, as sternly as a man can who is - masticating mullet, “whether your intentions are serious and honourable.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, father!” said Parrot Feathers again. And putting her hands in front - of her face to hide her blushes she ran off. Nevertheless, she paused when - a dozen feet away and threw a piece of drift-wood at Probably Arboreal. It - hit him on the shin, and as he rubbed the spot, watching her disappear - into the forest, he murmured aloud, “Now, I wonder what she means by - that!” - </p> - <p> - “Means,” said Crooked Nose. “Don't be an ass, Probably! Don't pretend to - <i>me</i> you don't know what the child means. You made her love you. You - have exercised your arts of fascination on an innocent young girl, and now - you have the nerve to wonder what she means. What'll you give me for her?” - </p> - <p> - “See here, Crooked Nose,” said Probably, “don't bluster with me.” His - finer sensibilities were outraged. He did not intend to be <i>coerced</i> - into matrimony by any father, even though he were pleased with that - father's daughter. “I'm not buying any wives to-day, Crooked Nose.” - </p> - <p> - “You have hurt her market value,” said Crooked Nose, dropping his - domineering air, and affecting a willingness to reason. “Those marks on - her arms will not come off for weeks. And what man wants to marry a - scarred-up woman unless he has made the scars himself?” - </p> - <p> - “Crooked Nose,” said Probably Arboreal, angry at the whole world because - what might have been a youthful romance had been given such a sordid turn - by this disgusting father, “if you don't go away I will scar every - daughter you've got in your part of the woods. Do you get me?” - </p> - <p> - “I wish you'd look them over,” said Crooked Nose. “You might do worse than - marry all of them.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll marry none of them!” cried Probably, in a rage, and turned to go - into the sea again. - </p> - <p> - A heavy boulder hurtled past his head. He whirled about and discovered - Crooked Nose in the act of recovering his balance after having flung it. - He caught the old man half way between the beach and the edge of the - forest. The clan, including Crooked Nose's four daughters, gathered round - in a ring to watch the fight. - </p> - <p> - It was not much of a combat. When it was over, and the girls took hold of - what remained of their late parent to drag him into the woods, Probably - Arboreal stepped up to Parrot Feathers and laid his hand upon her arm. - </p> - <p> - “Feathers,” he said, “now that there can be no question of coercion, will - you and your sisters marry me?” - </p> - <p> - She turned toward him with a sobered face. Grief had turned her from a - girl into a woman. - </p> - <p> - “Probably,” she said, “you are only making this offer out of generosity. - It is not love that prompts it. I cannot accept. As for my sisters, they - must speak for themselves.” - </p> - <p> - “You are angry with me, Feathers?” - </p> - <p> - The girl turned sadly away. Probably watched the funeral cortège winding - into the woods, and then went moodily back to the ocean. Now that she had - refused him, he desired her above all things. But how to win her? He saw - clearly that it could be no question of brute force. It had gone beyond - that. If he used force with her, it must infallibly remind her of the - unfortunate affair with her father. Some heroic action might attract her - to him again. Probably resolved to be a hero at the very earliest - opportunity. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime he would breakfast. Breakfast had already been long - delayed; and it was as true then, far back in the dim dawn of time, as it - is now, that he who does not breakfast at some time during the day must go - hungry to bed at night. Once more Probably Arboreal stepped into the ocean—stepped - in without any premonition that he was to be a hero indeed; that he was - chosen by Fate, by Destiny, by the Presiding Genius of this planet, by - whatever force or intelligence you will, to champion the cause of all - Mankind in a crucial struggle for human supremacy. - </p> - <p> - He waded into the water up to his waist, and bent forward with his arms - beneath the surface, patiently waiting. It was thus that our remote - ancestors fished. Fish ran larger in those days, as a rule. In the deeper - waters they were monstrous. The smaller fish therefore sought the shallows - where the big ones, greedy cannibals, could not follow them. A man seldom - stood in the sea as Probably Arboreal was doing more than ten minutes - without a fish brushing against him either accidentally or because the - fish thought the man was something good to eat. As soon as a fish touched - him, the man would grab for it. If he were clumsy and missed too many - fish, he starved to death. Experts survived because they <i>were</i> - expert; by a natural process of weeding out the awkward it had come about - that men were marvellously adept. A bear who stands by the edge of a river - watching for salmon at the time of the year when they rim up stream to - spawn, and scoops them from the water with a deft twitch of his paw, was - not more quick or skillful than Probably Arboreal. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly he pitched forward, struggling; he gave a gurgling shout, and his - head disappeared beneath the water. - </p> - <p> - When it came up again, he twisted toward the shore, with lashing arms and - something like panic on his face, and shouted: - </p> - <p> - “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he cried. “Something has me by the foot!” - </p> - <p> - Twenty or thirty men and women who heard the cry stopped fishing and - straightened up to look at him. - </p> - <p> - “Help! Help!” he shouted again. “It is pulling me out to sea!” - </p> - <p> - A knock-kneed old veteran, with long intelligent-looking mobile toes, - broke from the surf and scurried to the safety of the beach, raising the - cry: - </p> - <p> - “A god! A god! A water-god has caught Probably Arboreal!” - </p> - <p> - “More likely a devil!” cried Slightly Simian, who had followed Probably to - the water. - </p> - <p> - And all his neighbours plunged to land and left Probably Arboreal to his - fate, whatever his fate was to be. But since spectacles are always - interesting, they sat down comfortably on the beach to see how long it - would be before Probably Arboreal disappeared. Gods and devils, sharks and - octopi, were forever grabbing one of their number and making off to deep - water with him to devour him at their leisure. If the thing that dragged - the man were seen, if it showed itself to be a shark or an octopus, a - shark or an octopus it was; if it were unseen, it got the credit of being - a god or a devil. - </p> - <p> - “Help me!” begged Probably Arboreal, who was now holding his own, although - he was not able to pull himself into shallower water. “It is not a god or - a devil. It doesn't feel like one. And it isn't a shark, because it hasn't - any teeth. It is an animal like a cleft stick, and my foot is in the - cleft.” - </p> - <p> - But they did not help him. Instead, Big Mouth, a seer and <i>vers libre</i> - poet of the day, smitten suddenly with an idea, raised a chant, and - presently all the others joined in. The chant went like this: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Probably, he killed Crooked Nose, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He killed him with his fists. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And Crooked Nose, he sent his ghost to sea - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To catch his slayer by the foot! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - slayer, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - slayer, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drown his slayer in the seal” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “You are a liar, Big Mouth!” spluttered Probably Arboreal, hopping on one - foot and thrashing the water with his arms. “It is not a ghost; it is an - animal.” - </p> - <p> - But the chant kept up, growing louder and louder: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - slayer! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drown his slayer in the sea!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Out of the woods came running more and more people at the noise of the - chant. And as they caught what was going on, they took up the burden of - it, until hundreds and thousands of them were singing it. - </p> - <p> - But, with a mighty turn and struggle, Probably Arboreal went under again, - as to his head and body; his feet for an instant swished into the air, and - everyone but Probably Arboreal himself saw what was hanging on to one of - them. - </p> - <p> - It was neither ghost, shark, god, nor devil. It was a monstrous oyster; a - bull oyster, evidently. All oysters were much larger in those days than - they are now, but this oyster was a giant, a mastodon, a mammoth among - oysters, even for those days. - </p> - <p> - “It is an oyster, an oyster, an oyster!” cried the crowd, as Probably - Arboreal's head and shoulders came out of the water again. - </p> - <p> - Big Mouth, the poet, naturally chagrined, and hating to yield up his - dramatic idea, tried to raise another chant: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “The ghost of Crooked Nose went into an - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - oyster, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The oyster caught his slayer by the foot - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To drown, drown, drown him in the sea!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But it didn't work. The world had seen that oyster, and had recognized it - for an oyster. - </p> - <p> - “Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!” cried the crowd sternly at Big Mouth. - </p> - <p> - The bard tried to persevere, but Slightly Simian, feeling the crowd with - him, advanced menacingly and said: - </p> - <p> - “See here, Big Mouth, we know a ghost when we see one, and we know an - oyster! Yon animal is an oyster! You <i>sing</i> that it is an oyster, or - shut up!” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Ghost, ghost, ghost,</i>” chanted Big Mouth, tentatively. But he got - no farther. Slightly Simian killed him with a club, and the matter was - settled. Literary criticism was direct, straightforward, and effective in - those days. - </p> - <p> - “But, oh, ye gods of the water, <i>what</i> an oyster!” cried Mrs. - Slightly Simian. - </p> - <p> - And as the thought took them all, a silence fell over the multitude. They - looked at the struggling man in a new community of idea. Oysters they had - seen before, but never an oyster like this. Oysters they knew not as food; - but they had always regarded them as rather ineffectual and harmless - creatures. Yet this bold oyster was actually giving battle, and on equal - terms, to a man! Were oysters henceforth to be added to the number of - man's enemies? Were oysters about to attempt to conquer mankind? This - oyster, was he the champion of the sea, sent up out of its depths, to - grapple with mankind for supremacy? - </p> - <p> - Dimly, vaguely, as they watched the man attempt to pull the oyster ashore, - and the oyster attempt to pull the man out to sea, some sense of the - importance of this struggle was felt by mankind. Over forest, beach, and - ocean hung the sense of momentous things. A haze passed across the face of - the bright morning sun; the breeze died down; it was as if all nature held - her breath at this struggle. And if mankind upon the land was interested, - the sea was no less concerned. For, of sudden, and as if by preconcerted - signal, a hundred thousand oysters poked their heads above the surface of - the waters and turned their eyes—they had small fiery opalescent - eyes in those days—upon the combat. - </p> - <p> - At this appearance, mankind drew back with a gasp, but no word was - uttered. The visible universe, perturbed earth and bending heavens alike, - was tense and dumb. On their part, the oysters made no attempt to go to - the assistance of their champion. Nor did mankind leap to the rescue of - Probably Arboreal. Tacitly, each side, in a spirit of fair play, agreed - not to interfere; agreed to leave the combat to the champions; agreed to - abide by the issue. - </p> - <p> - But while they were stirred and held by the sense of tremendous things - impending, neither men nor oysters could be expected to understand - definitely what almost infinite things depended upon this battle. There - were no Darwins then. Evolution had not yet evolved the individual able to - catch her at it. - </p> - <p> - But she was on her way. This very struggle was one of the crucial moments - in the history of evolution. There have always been these critical periods - when the two highest species in the world were about equal in - intelligence, and it was touch and go as to which would survive and carry - on the torch, and which species would lose the lead and become - subservient. There have always been exact instants when the spirit of - progress hesitated as between the forms of life, doubtful as to which one - to make its representative. - </p> - <p> - Briefly, if the oyster conquered the man, more and more oysters, - emboldened by this success, would prey upon men. Man, in the course of a - few hundred thousand years, would become the creature of the oyster; the - oyster's slave and food. Then the highest type of life on the planet would - dwell in the sea. The civilization which was not yet would be a marine - growth when it did come; the intellectual and spiritual and physical - supremacy held by the biped would pass over to the bivalve. - </p> - <p> - Thought could not frame this concept then; neither shellfish nor - tree-dweller uttered it. But both the species felt it; they watched - Probably Arboreal and the oyster with a strangling emotion, with a - quivering intentness, that was none the less poignant because there was no - Huxley or Spencer present to interpret it for them; they thrilled and - sweat and shivered with the shaken universe, and the red sun through its - haze peered down unwinking like the vast bloodshot eye of life. - </p> - <p> - An hour had passed by in silence except for the sound of the battle, more - and more men and more and more oysters had gathered about the scene of the - struggle; the strain was telling on both champions. Probably Arboreal had - succeeded in dragging the beast some ten feet nearer the shore, but the - exertion had told upon him; he was growing tired; he was breathing with - difficulty; he had swallowed a great deal of salt water. He too was dimly - conscious of the importance of this frightful combat; he felt himself the - representative of the human race. He was desperate but cool; he saved his - breath; he opposed to the brute force of the oyster the cunning of a man. - But he was growing weaker; he felt it. - </p> - <p> - If only those for whom he was fighting would fling him some word of - encouragement! He was too proud to ask it, but he felt bitterly that he - was not supported, for he could not realize what emotion had smitten dumb - his fellow men. He had got to the place where a word of spiritual comfort - and encouragement would have meant as much as fifty pounds of weight in - his favour. - </p> - <p> - He had, in fact, arrived at the Psychological Moment. There were no - professing psychologists then; but there was psychology; and it worked - itself up into moments even as it does to-day. - </p> - <p> - Probably Arboreal's head went under the water, tears and salt ocean - mingled nauseatingly in his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “I am lost,” he gurgled. - </p> - <p> - But at that instant a shout went up—the shrill, high cry of a woman. - Even in his agony he recognized that voice—the voice of Parrot - Feathers! With a splendid rally he turned his face toward the shore. - </p> - <p> - She was struggling through the crowd, fighting her way to the front rank - with the fury of a wildcat. She had just buried her father, and the earth - was still dark and damp upon her hands, but the magnificent creature had - only one thought now. She thought only of her lover, her heroic lover; in - her nobility of soul she had been able to rise above the pettiness of - spirit which another woman might have felt; she knew no pique or spite. - Her lover was in trouble, and her place was nigh him; so she flung a false - maidenly modesty to the winds and acknowledged him and cheered him on, - careless of what the assembled world might think. - </p> - <p> - She arrived at the Psychological Moment. - </p> - <p> - “Probably! Probably!” she cried. “Don't give up! Don't give up! For my - sake!” - </p> - <p> - For her sake! The words were like fire in the veins of the struggling - hero. He made another bursting effort, and gained a yard. But the rally - had weakened him; the next instant his head went under the water once - more. Would it ever appear again? There was a long, long moment, while all - mankind strangled and gasped in sympathetic unison, and then our hero's - dripping head did emerge. It had hit a stone under water, and it was - bleeding, but it emerged. One eye was nearly closed. 4 + - </p> - <p> - “Watch him! Watch him!” shouted Parrot Feathers. “Don't let him do that - again! When he has you under water he whacks your eye with his tail. He's - trying to blind you!” - </p> - <p> - And, indeed, these seemed to be the desperate oyster's tactics. If he - could once destroy our hero's sight, the end would soon come. - </p> - <p> - “Probably—do you hear me?” - </p> - <p> - He nodded his head; he was beyond speech. - </p> - <p> - “Take a long breath and dive! Do you get me? Dive! Dive at your own feet! - Grab your feet in your hands and roll under water in a bunch! Roll toward - the beach!”' - </p> - <p> - It was a desperate manouvre, especially for a man who had already been - under water so much that morning. But the situation was critical and - called for the taking of big chances. It would either succeed—or - fail. And death was no surer if it failed than if he waited. Probably - Arboreal ceased to think; he yielded up his reasoning powers to the noble - and courageous woman on the sand; he dived and grabbed his feet and - rolled. - </p> - <p> - “Again! Again!” she cried. “Another long breath and roll again!” - </p> - <p> - Her bosom heaved, as if she were actually breathing for him. To Probably - Arboreal, now all but drowned, and almost impervious to feeling, it also - seemed as if he were breathing with her lungs; and yet he hardly dared to - dive and roll again. He struggled in the water and stared at her stupidly. - </p> - <p> - She sent her unusual and electric personality thrilling into him across - the intervening distance; she held him with her eyes, and filled him with - her spirit. - </p> - <p> - “Roll!” she commanded. “Probably! Roll!” - </p> - <p> - And under the lash of her courage, he rolled again. Three more times he - rolled... and then... unconscious, but still breathing, he was in her - arms. - </p> - <p> - As he reached the land half a million oysters sank into the sea in the - silence of defeat and despair, while from the beaches rose a mighty shout. - </p> - <p> - The sun, as if it gestured, flung the mists from its face, and beamed - benignly. - </p> - <p> - “Back! Back! Give him air!” cried Parrot Feathers, as she addressed - herself to the task of removing the oyster from his foot. - </p> - <p> - The giant beast was dying, and its jaws were locked in the rigour of its - suffering. There was no way to remove it gently. Parrot Feathers laid her - unconscious hero's foot upon one rock, and broke the oyster loose with - another. - </p> - <p> - Incidentally she smashed Probably Arboreal's toe. - </p> - <p> - He sat up in pained surprise. Unthinkingly, as you or I would put a hurt - finger into our mouths, he put his crushed toe into his mouth. At that - period of man's history the trick was not difficult. And then—— - </p> - <p> - A beatific smile spread over his face! - </p> - <p> - Man had tasted the oyster! - </p> - <p> - In half an hour, mankind was plunging into the waves searching for - oysters. The oyster's doom was sealed. His monstrous pretension that he - belonged in the van of evolutionary progress was killed forever. He had - been tasted, and found food. He would never again battle for supremacy. - Meekly he yielded to his fate. He is food to this day. - </p> - <p> - Parrot Feathers and Probably Arboreal were married after breakfast. On the - toes of their first child were ten cunning, diminutive oyster shells. - Mankind, up to that time, had had sharp toenails like the claws of birds. - But the flat, shell-like toenails, the symbols of man's triumph over, and - trampling down of, the oyster were inherited from the children of this - happy couple. - </p> - <p> - They persist to this day. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - “IF WE COULD ONLY SEE” - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>unch finished, Mr. - Ferdinand Wimple, the poet, sullenly removed his coat and sulkily carried - the dishes to the kitchen sink. He swore in a melodious murmur, as a cat - purrs, as he turned the hot water on to the plates, and he splashed - profanely with a wet dishcloth. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to do the dishes to-day, Ferd,” announced his wife, pleasantly - enough. She was a not unpleasant-looking woman; she gave the impression - that she might, indeed, be a distinctly pleasant-looking woman, if she - could avoid seeming hurried. She would have been a pretty woman, in fact, - if she had been able to give the time to it. - </p> - <p> - When she said that she would do the dishes herself, Mr. Wimple immediately - let the dishcloth drop without another word, profane or otherwise, and - began to dry his hands, preparatory to putting on his coat again. But she - continued: - </p> - <p> - “I want you to do the twins' wash.” - </p> - <p> - “What?” cried Mr. Wimple, outraged. He ran one of his plump hands through - his thick tawny hair and stared at his wife with latent hatred in his - brown eyes... those eyes of which so many women had remarked: “Aren't Mr. - Wimple's eyes wonderful; just simply <i>wonderful!</i> So magnetic, if you - get what I mean!” Mr. Wimple's head, by many of his female admirers, was - spoken of as “leonine.” His detractors—for who has them not?—dwelt - rather upon the physical reminder of Mr.'Wimple, which was more suggestive - of the ox. - </p> - <p> - “I said I wanted you to do the twins' wash for me,” repeated Mrs. Wimple, - awed neither by the lion's visage nor the bovine torso. Mrs. Wimple's own - hair was red; and in a quietly red-haired sort of way she looked as if she - expected her words to be heeded. - </p> - <p> - “H——!” said the poet, in a round baritone which enriched the - ear as if a harpist had plucked the lovely string of G. “H——!” - But there was more music than resolution in the sound. It floated somewhat - tentatively upon the air. Mr. Wimple was not in revolt. He was wondering - if he had the courage to revolt. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Wimple lifted the cover of the laundry tub, which stood beside the - sink, threw in the babies' “things,” turned on the hot water, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Better shave some laundry soap and throw it in, Ferd.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens!” declared Mr. Wimple. “To expect a man of my temperament to do - that!” But still he did not say that he would not do it. - </p> - <p> - “Someone has to do it,” contributed his wife. - </p> - <p> - “I never kicked on the dishes, Nell,” said Mr. Wimple. “But this, <i>this</i> - is too much!” - </p> - <p> - “I have been doing it for ten days, ever since the maid left. I'm feeling - rotten to-day, and you can take a turn at it, Ferd. My back hurts.” Still - Mrs. Wimple was not unpleasant; but she was obviously determined. - </p> - <p> - “Your back!” sang Mr. Wimple, the minstrel, and shook his mane. “Your <i>back</i> - hurts you! My <i>soul</i> hurts <i>me!</i> How could I go direct from that—that - damnable occupation—that most repulsive of domestic occupations—that - bourgeois occupation—to Mrs. Watson's tea this afternoon and deliver - my message?” - </p> - <p> - A shimmer of heat (perhaps from her hair) suddenly dried up whatever dew - of pleasantness remained in Mrs. Wimple's manner. “They're just as much - your twins as they are mine,” she began... but just then one of them - cried. - </p> - <p> - A fraction of a second later the other one cried. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Wimple hurried from the kitchen and reached the living room in time - to prevent mayhem. The twins, aged one year, were painfully entangled with - one another on the floor. The twin Ronald had conceived the idea that - perhaps the twin Dugald's thumb was edible, and was testing five or six of - his newly acquired teeth upon it. Childe Dugald had been inspired by his - daemon with the notion that one of Childe Ronald's ears might be - detachable, and was endeavouring to detach it. The situation was but too - evidently distressing to both of them, but neither seemed capable of the - mental initiative necessary to end it. Even when little Ronald opened his - mouth to scream, little Dugald did not remove the thumb. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Wimple unscrambled them, wiped their noses, gave them rattles, rubber - dolls, and goats to wreak themselves upon, and returned to the kitchen - thinking (for she did not lack her humorous gleams) that the situation in - the living room bore a certain resemblance to the situation in the - kitchen. She and Ferdinand bit and scratched figuratively, but they had - not the initiative to break loose from one another. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wimple was shaving soap into the laundry tub, but he stopped when she - entered and sang at her: “And <i>why</i> did the maid leave?” - </p> - <p> - “You know why she left, Ferd.” - </p> - <p> - “She left,” chanted Ferdinand, poking the twins' clothing viciously with a - wooden paddle, “because...” But what Mr. Wimple said, and the way he said - it, falls naturally into the freer sort of verse: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “She left [sang Mr. Wimple] - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Because her discontent... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Her individual discontent, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Which is a part of the current general discontent - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of all the labouring classes... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Was constantly aggravated - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - By your jarring personality, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Mrs. Wimple! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There is no harmony in this house, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Mrs. Wimple; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - No harmony!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Wimple replied in sordid prose: - </p> - <p> - “She left because she was offered more money elsewhere, and we couldn't - afford to meet the difference.” Something like a sob vibrated through Mr. - Wimple's opulent voice as he rejoined: - </p> - <p> - “Nellie, that is a blow that I did not look for! You have stabbed me with - a poisoned weapon! Yes, Nellie, I <i>am</i> poor! So was Edgar Poe. What - the world calls poor! I shall, in all likelihood, never be rich... what - the world calls rich. But I have my art! I have my ideals! I have my inner - life! I have my dreams! Poor? Poor? Yes, Nell! Poor! So was Robert Burns! - I am poor! I make no compromise with the mob. Nor shall I ever debase my - gift for money. No! Such as I am, I shall bear the torch that has been - intrusted to me till I fall fainting at the goal! I have a message. To me - it is precious stuff, and I shall not alloy it with the dross called gold. - Poor? Yes, Nell! And you have the heart to cast it in my teeth! You, - Nellie! You, from whom I once expected sympathy and understanding. You, - whom I chose from all the world, and took into my life because I fancied - that you, too, saw the vision! Yes, Elinor, I dreamed <i>that</i> once!” - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r. Wimple achieved - pathos... almost tragedy. To a trivial mind, however, the effect might - have been somewhat spoiled by the fact that in his fervour he gesticulated - wildly with the wooden paddle in one hand and an undergarment belonging to - Ronald in the other. The truly sensitive soul would have seen these things - as emphasizing his pathos. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Wimple, when Mr. Wimple became lyric in his utterance, often had the - perverse impulse to answer him in a slangy vernacular which, if not - actually coarse, was not, on the other hand, the dialect of the aesthete. - For some months now, she had noticed, whenever Ferdinand took out his soul - and petted it verbally, she had had the desire to lacerate it with uncouth - parts of speech. Ordinarily she frowned on slang; but when Ferdinand's - soul leaped into the arena she found slang a weapon strangely facile to - her clutch. - </p> - <p> - “Coming down to brass tacks on this money thing, Ferdy,” said Mrs. Wimple, - “you're not the downy peach you picture in the ads. I'll tell the world - you're not! You kid yourself, Ferdy. Some of your bloom has been removed, - Ferdy. Don't go so far upstage when you speak to me about the dross the - world calls gold. The reason we can't afford a maid now is because you got - swell-headed and kicked over that perfectly good magazine job you used to - have. You thought you were going to get more limelight and more money on - the lecture platform. But you've been a flivver in the big time. Your - message sounds better to a flock of women in somebody's sitting room full - of shaded candles and samovars, with firelight on the antique junk, than - it does in Carnegie Hall. You've got the voice for the big spaces all - right, but the multitude doesn't get any loaves and fishes from you. Punk - sticks and <i>nuances</i> —the <i>intime</i> stuff—that's your - speed, Ferdy. I don't want to put any useless dents into your bean, but - that message of yours has been hinted at by other messengers. 1 stick - around home here and take care of the kids, and I've never let out a yell - before. And you trot around to your soul fights and tea fests and feed - your message to a bunch of dolled-up dames that don't even know you have a - wife. I'm not jealous... you couldn't drag me into one of those perfumed - literary dives by the hair ... I got fed up with that stuff years ago. But - as long as we're without a maid because you won't stick to a steady job, - you'll do your share of the rough stuff around the house. I'll say you - will! You used to be a good sport about that sort of thing, Ferdy, but it - looks to me as if you were getting spoiled rotten. You've had a rush of - soul to the mouth, Ferdy. Those talcum-powder seances of yours have gone - to your head. You take those orgies of refinement too seriously. You begin - to look to me like you had a streak of yellow in you, Ferdy... and if I - ever see it so plain I'm sure of it, I'll leave you flat. I'll quit you, - Ferdy, twins and all.” - </p> - <p> - “Quit, then!” cried Mr. Wimple. - </p> - <p> - And then the harplike voice burst into song again, an offering rich with - rage: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Woman! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - So help me all the gods, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I'm through! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Twins or no twins, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Elinor Wimple, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I'm through! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - By all the gods, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I'll never wash another dish, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Nor yet another set of underwear!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Wimple, in his heat, brought down the wooden paddle upon the pile - of dishes in the sink, in front of his wife. The crash of the broken china - seemed to augment his rage, rather than relieve it, and he raised the - paddle for a second blow. - </p> - <p> - “Ferd!” cried his wife, and caught at the stick. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wimple, the aesthete, grabbed her by the arm and strove to loosen her - grasp upon the paddle. - </p> - <p> - “You're bruising my arm!” she cried. But she did not release the stick. - Neither did Ferdinand release her wrist. Perhaps he twisted it all the - harder because she struggled, and was not conscious that he was doing - so... perhaps he twisted it harder quite consciously. At any rate, she - suddenly swung upon him, with her free hand, and slapped him across the - face with her wet dishcloth. - </p> - <p> - At that they started apart, both more than a little appalled to realize - that they had been engaged in something resembling a fight. - </p> - <p> - Without another word the bird of song withdrew to smooth his ruffled - plumage. He dressed himself carefully, and left the apartment without - speaking to his wife again. He felt that he had not had altogether the - best of the argument. There was no taste of soap in his mouth, for he had - washed his lips and even brushed his teeth... and yet, psychically, as he - might have said himself, he still tasted that dishcloth. - </p> - <p> - But he had not walked far before some of his complacence returned. He - removed his hat and ran his fingers through his interesting hair, and - began to murmur lyrically: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “By Jove! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I have a way with women! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There must be something of the Cave Man in me - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Yes, something of the primeval!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - In his pocket was a little book of his own poems, bound in green and gold. - As he had remarked to Mrs. Wimple, he was to deliver his message that - afternoon. - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. Watson's - apartment (to which Ferdinand betook himself after idling a couple of - hours at his club) was toward the top of a tall building which overlooked - great fields of city. It was but three blocks distant from Ferdinand's own - humbler apartment, in uptown New York, but it was large, and... well, Mr. - </p> - <p> - Wimple calculated, harbouring the sordid thought for an instant, that the - rent must cost her seven or eight, thousand dollars a year. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Watson's life was delicately scented with an attar of expense. She - would not drench her rooms or her existence with wealth, any more than she - would spill perfume upon her garments with a careless hand. But the - sensitive' nostrils of the aesthetic Mr. Wimple quivered in reaction to - the aroma. For a person who despised gold, as Mr. Wimple professed to - despise it, he was strangely unrepelled. Perhaps he thought it to be his - spiritual duty to purify this atmosphere with his message. - </p> - <p> - There were eighteen or twenty women there when Ferdinand arrived, and no - man... except a weakeyed captive husband or two, and an epicene creature - with a violin, if you want to call them men. Ferdinand, with his bovine - body and his leonine head, seemed almost startlingly masculine in this - assemblage, and felt so. His spirit, he had often confessed, was an - instrument that vibrated best in unison with the subtle feminine soul; he - felt it play upon him and woo him, with little winds that ran their - fingers through his hair. These were women who had no occupation, and a - number of them had money; they felt delightfully cultivated when persons - such as Ferdinand talked to them about the Soul. They warmed, they - expanded, half unconsciously they projected those breaths and breezes - which thrilled our Ferdinand and wrought upon his mood. If a woman, idle - and mature, cannot find romance anywhere else or anyhow other she will - pick upon a preacher or an artist. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Watson collected Ferdinands. Just how seriously she took them—how - she regarded himself, specifically—Mr. Wimple could not be quite - certain. - </p> - <p> - “She is a woman of mystery,” Mr. Wimple often murmured to himself. And he - wondered a good deal about her... sometimes he wondered if she were not in - love with him. - </p> - <p> - He had once written to her, a poem, which he entitled “Mystery.” She had - let him see that she understood it, but she had not vouchsafed a solution - of herself. It might be possible, Ferdinand thought, that she did <i>not</i> - love him... but she sympathized with him; she appreciated him; she had - even fallen into a dreamy sadness one day, at the thought of how he must - suffer from the disharmony in his home. For somehow, without much having - been said by one or by the other, the knowledge had passed from Ferdinand - to Mrs. Watson that there was not harmony in his home. She had understood. - They had looked at each other, and she had understood. - </p> - <p> - “Alethea!” he had murmured, under his breath. Alethea was her name. He was - sure she had heard it; but she had neither accepted it from him, nor - rejected it. And he had gone away without quite daring to say it again in - a louder tone. - </p> - <p> - There was only one thing about her that sometimes jarred upon Mr. - Wimple... a sudden vein of levity. Sometimes Ferdinand, in his thoughts, - even accused her of irony. And he was vaguely distrustful of a sense of - the humorous in women; whether it took the form of a feeling for nonsense - or a talent for sarcasm, it worried him. - </p> - <p> - But she understood. She always understood... him and his message. - </p> - <p> - And this afternoon she seemed to be understanding him, to be absorbing him - and his message, with an increased sensitiveness. She regarded him with a - new intentness, he thought; she was taking him with an expanded spiritual - capacity. - </p> - <p> - It was after the music, and what a creature overladen with “art jewelry” - called “the eats,” harrowing Ferdinand with the vulgar word, that he - delivered his message, sitting not far from Mrs. Watson in the carefully - graduated light. - </p> - <p> - It was, upon the whole, a cheerful message, Ferdinand's. It was... - succinctly... Love. - </p> - <p> - Ferdinand was not pessimistic or cynical about Love. It was all around us, - he thought, if we could only see it, could only feel it, could only open - our beings for its reception. - </p> - <p> - “If we could only see into the hearts! If we could only see into the - homes!” said Ferdinand. If we could only see, it was Ferdinand's belief, - we should see Love there, unexpected treasures of Love, waiting dormant - for the arousing touch; slumbering, as Endymion slumbered, until Diana's - kiss awakened him. - </p> - <p> - “Mush!” muttered one of the captive husbands to the young violinist. But - the young violinist scowled; he was in accord with Ferdinand. “Mush, - slush, and gush!” whispered the first captive husband to the second - captive husband. But captive husband number two only nodded and grinned in - an idiotic way; he was lucky enough to be quite deaf, and no matter where - his wife took him he could sit and think of his Liberty Bonds, without - being bothered by the lion of the hour.... - </p> - <p> - The world, Ferdinand went on, was trembling on the verge of a great - spiritual awakening. The Millennium was about to stoop and kiss it, as - Morning kissed the mountain tops. It was coming soon. Already the first - faint streaks of the new dawn were in the orient sky... for eyes that - could see them. Ah, if one could only see! In more and more bosoms, the - world around, Love was becoming conscious of itself, Love was beginning to - understand that there was love in other bosoms, too! At this point, at - least a dozen bosoms, among those bosoms present, heaved with sighs. Heart - was reaching out to Heart in a new confidence, Ferdinand said. One knew - what was in one's own heart; but hitherto one had often been so blind that - one did not realize that the same thing was in the hearts of one's - fellows. Ah, if one could only see! - </p> - <p> - Maeterlinck saw, Ferdinand said. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Maeterlinck!” whispered the bosoms. - </p> - <p> - Yes, Maeterlinck saw, said Ferdinand. Nietzsche, said Ferdinand, had - possessed a bosom full of yearning for all humanity, but he had been - driven back upon himself and embittered by the world... by the German - world in which he lived, said Ferdinand. So Nietzsche's strength had - little sweetness in it, and Nietzsche had not lived to see the new light - in the orient sky. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Nietzsche!” moaned several sympathetic bosoms. - </p> - <p> - Bergson knew, Ferdinand opined. Several of the women present did not quite - catch the connection between Bergson and Ferdinand's message, but they - assumed that everyone else caught it. Bergson's was a name they knew - and... and in a moment Ferdinand was on more familiar ground again. Tagore - knew, said Ferdinand. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Rabindranath Tagore!” And the bosoms fluttered as doves flutter when - they coo and settle upon the eaves. Love! That was Ferdinand's message. - And it appeared from the remarks with which he introduced and interspersed - his own poems, that all the really brilliant men of the day were thinking - in harmony with Ferdinand. He had the gift of introducing a celebrated - name every now and then in such a manner that these women, who were at - least familiar with the names, actually felt that they were also familiar - with the work for which the names stood. And, for his part, he was repaid, - this afternoon, as he had never been repaid before ... never before had he - been so wrought upon and electrically vivified as to-day by these - emanations of the feminine soul; never before had he felt these little - winds run their fingers through his hair with such a caressing touch. Once - or twice the poignancy of the sensation almost unsteadied him for an - instant. And never before had Mrs. Watson regarded him with such singular - intentness. - </p> - <p> - Love! That was Ferdinand's message! And, ah! if one could only see! - </p> - <p> - When the others were going, Mrs. Watson asked him to stay a while, and - Ferdinand stayed. She led him to a little sitting room, high above the - town, and stood by the window. And he stood beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Your message this afternoon,” she said, presently, “I enjoyed more than - anything I have ever heard you say before. If we could only see! If we - could only see!” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Watson lifted her blue eyes to him... and for an instant Ferdinand - felt that she was more the woman of mystery than ever. For there lurked - within the eyes an equivocal ripple of light; an unsteady glint that came - and went. Had it not been for her words, Ferdinand might have feared that - she was about to break into one of her disconcerting ebullitions of - levity. But he perceived in her, at the same time, a certain tension, an - unusual strain, and was reassured... she was a little strange, perhaps, - because of his near presence. She was reacting to the magnetism which was - flowing out of him in great waves, and she was striving to conceal from - him her psychic excitement. That would account for any strangeness in her - manner, any constraint. - </p> - <p> - “If we could only see!” she repeated. - </p> - <p> - “<i>You</i> always see,” hazarded Ferdinand. - </p> - <p> - “I sometimes see,” said Mrs. Watson. “I have sometimes seen more than it - was intended for me to see.” - </p> - <p> - What could she mean by that? Ferdinand asked himself. And for an instant - he was unpleasantly conscious again of the something ambiguous in her - mood. Suddenly she turned and switched on the electric light in the room, - and then went and stood by the window again. Ferdinand's psychic feathers - were a trifle rumpled by the action. It was growing dusk... but he would - have liked to talk to her in the twilight, looking out over the roofs. - </p> - <p> - “If we could only see into the hearts ... into the homes,” she mused yet - again. - </p> - <p> - “If you could see into my heart now ... Alethea...” - </p> - <p> - He left the sentence unfinished. She did not look at him. She turned her - face so he could not see it. - </p> - <p> - He tried to take her hand. But she avoided that, without actually moving, - without giving ground... as a boxer in the ring may escape the full effect - of a blow he does not parry by shrugging it off, without retreating. - </p> - <p> - After a moment's silence she said: “Ferdinand...” and paused.... - </p> - <p> - He felt sure of her, then. He drew a long breath. He wished they were not - standing by that window, framed in it, with the lighted room behind - them... but since she <i>would</i> stand there... anyhow, now was the - time.... - </p> - <p> - And then he heard himself pleading with her, eloquently, fervently. She - was his ideal! She was... he hated the word “affinity,” because it had - been cheapened and vulgarized by gross contacts... but she <i>was</i> his - affinity. They were made for one another. It was predestined that they - should meet and love. She was what he needed to complete him, to fulfill - him. They would go forth together... not into the world, but away from - it... they would dwell upon the heights, and... and... so forth. - </p> - <p> - Ferdinand, as he pleaded, perhaps thought nothing consciously of the fact - that she must be spending money at the rate of fifty or sixty thousand - dollars a year. But, nevertheless, that subconscious mind of his, of which - he had so often spoken, that subliminal self, must have been considering - the figures, for suddenly there flashed before his inner eye the result of - a mathematical calculation...<i> fifty thousand dollars a year is the - interest on one million dollars at five per cent</i>. Ah, that would make - his dreams possible! How his service to the human race might be increased - in value if all his time could be but given to carrying his message! - Farewell to the sordid struggle for bread! And in the poetic depths of him - there moved, unuttered, a phrase which he had spoken aloud earlier in the - day: <i>“I shall never wash another dish, nor yet another undergarment</i>.” - This secondary line of thought, however, did not interfere with the lyric - passion of his speech. - </p> - <p> - “You are asking me to... to... <i>elope</i> with you!” - </p> - <p> - She still drooped her head, but she let him feel her nearness. He wished—how - he wished!—that they were away from that window. But he would not - break the spell by suggesting that they move. Perhaps he could not - reestablish it. - </p> - <p> - “Elope?” Ferdinand critically considered the word. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to come away with me, Alethea, into Paradise. I want you to - help me rediscover Eden! I want you! I want you!” - </p> - <p> - “But... your family?” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. “That episode, - that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended,” said - Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Ended?” said Mrs. Watson. “You are no longer living with your wife? - The marriage is dissolved?” Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been dissolved - for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had never taken - the trouble to inquire. - </p> - <p> - “In the spiritual sense—and that is all that counts—dissolved,” - said Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: “To-day.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and put her - head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried “Victory!” he - was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to take her in his - arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. He stood in - perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he heard muffled - sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, or... - </p> - <p> - No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What? - </p> - <p> - Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her - laughter. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me,” said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in - her eyes, “but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to - tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had - better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can never - touch anything but the interest, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Alethea,” said Ferdinand, chokingly, “such a thought at a time like this - is unworthy of both of us!” And he advanced toward her again. But she - stopped him. - </p> - <p> - “Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I - wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do our - own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my arm - until I howled!” - </p> - <p> - As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of - vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a - chair. - </p> - <p> - “Get up!” said Mrs. Watson, with a cold little silver tinkle of a laugh. - “I didn't ask you to sit down!” - </p> - <p> - Ferdinand got up. - </p> - <p> - “I don't spy on my neighbours as a rule,” continued Mrs. Watson, “but a - little after noon to-day I happened to be standing by this window looking - out over the town, and this pair of opera glasses happened to be on the - table there and... well, take them, you oaf! You fat fool! And look at - that window, down there! It's your own kitchen window!” - </p> - <p> - Ferdinand took them and looked... he was crushed and speechless, and he - obeyed mechanically. - </p> - <p> - He dropped the glasses with a gasp. He had not only seen into his own - kitchen window, lighted as this one was, but he had seen Nell there... - and, as perverse fate would have it, some whim had inspired Nell to take - her own opera glasses and look out over the city. She was standing there - with them now. Had she seen him a moment before, with Mrs. Watson's head - upon his shoulder? - </p> - <p> - He started out. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a moment,” said Mrs. Watson. Ferdinand stopped. He still seemed - oddly without volition. It reminded him of what he had heard about certain - men suffering from shell shock. - </p> - <p> - “There... I wanted to do that before you went,” said Mrs. Watson, and - slapped him across the face. And Ferdinand's soul registered once more the - flavour of a damp dishcloth. “It's the second time a woman has slapped you - to-day,” said Mrs. Watson. “Try and finish the rest of the day without - getting a third one. You can go now.” - </p> - <p> - Ferdinand went. He reached the street, and walked several blocks in - silence. Neither his voice nor his assurance seemed to be inclined to - return to him speedily. His voice came back first, with a little of his - complacence, after fifteen or twenty minutes. And: - </p> - <p> - “Hell!” said Ferdinand, in his rich, harplike voice, running his fingers - through his tawny hair. “Hell!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE - </h2> - <p> - <i>AUTHOR'S NOTE—Another version of this story appeared in a book - entitled “Danny's Own Story,” published in 1912 by Doubleday, Page & - Co.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>'m not so sure - about Prohibition and pledges and such things holding back a man that has - got the liquor idea in his head. If meanness is in a man, it usually stays - in him, in spite of all the pledges he signs and the promises he makes. - </p> - <p> - About the meanest man I ever knew was Hank Walters, a blacksmith in a - little town in Illinois, the meanest and the whiskey-drinkingest. And I - had a chance to know him well, for he and his wife Elmira brought me up. - Somebody left me on their doorstep in a basket when I was a baby, and they - took me in and raised me. I reckon they took me in so they could quarrel - about me. They'd lived together a good many years and quarrelled about - everything else under the sun, and were running out of topics to row over. - A new topic of dissension sort of briskened things up for a while. - </p> - <p> - Not having any kids of his own to lick, Hank lambasted me when he was - drunk and whaled me when he was sober. It was a change from licking his - wife, I suppose. A man like Hank has just naturally got to have something - he can cuss around and boss, so as to keep himself from finding out he - don't amount to anything... although he must have known he didn't, too, - way down deep in his inmost gizzards. - </p> - <p> - So I was unhappy when I was a kid, but not knowing anything else I never - found out exactly how unhappy I was. There were worse places to live in - than that little town, and there was one thing in our house that I always - admired when I was a kid. That was a big cistern. Most people had their - cisterns outside their houses, but ours was right in under our kitchen - floor, and there was a trap door with leather hinges opened into it right - by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so proud of it. It was - because the cistern was full of fish—bullheads and redhorse and - sunfish and pickerel. - </p> - <p> - Hank's father built the cistern. And one time he brought home some live - fish in a bucket and dumped them in there. And they grew. And multiplied - and refurnished the earth, as the Good Book says. That cistern full of - fish had got to be a family custom. It was a comfort to Hank, for all the - Walterses were great fish eaters, though it never went to brains any. We - fed 'em now and then, and threw the little ones back in until they were - grown, and kept the dead ones picked out as soon as we smelled anything - wrong, and it never hurt the water any; and when I was a kid I wouldn't - have taken anything for living in a house like that. - </p> - <p> - One time when I was a kid about six years old Hank came home drunk from - Bill Nolan's barroom, and got to chasing Elmira's cat, because he said it - was making faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. - Elmira wasn't at home, and I was scared. Elmira had always told me not to - fool around that cistern door any when I was a kid, for if I fell in - there, she said, I'd be a corpse, quicker'n scatt. - </p> - <p> - So when Hank fell in and I heard him splash, being such a little fellow - and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I supposed - that Hank was probably a corpse already. I slammed the door shut over the - cistern without looking in, for I heard Hank flopping around down there. I - hadn't ever heard a corpse flop before and didn't know but what it might - be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take any chances. - </p> - <p> - I went out and played in the front yard and waited for Elmira. But I - couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, or - anything. I kept thinking of Hank being a corpse down in that cistern. And - maybe that corpse is going to come flopping out pretty soon, I thought to - myself, and lick me in some new and unusual way. I hadn't ever been licked - by a corpse. Being young and innocent, I didn't rightly know what a corpse - is, except I had the idea there was something about a corpse that kept - them from being popular. - </p> - <p> - So after a while I sneaked back into the house and set all the flatirons - on top of the cistern lid. I heard some flopping and splashing and - fluttering, as if that corpse was trying to jump up and was falling back - into the water, and I heard Hank's voice, and got scareder and scareder. - When Elmira came along down the road she saw me by the gate crying and - blubbering, and she asked me why. - </p> - <p> - “Hank is a corpse!” says I. - </p> - <p> - “A corpse!” says Elmira, dropping the pound of coffee she was carrying - home from the general store and post-office. “Danny, what do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - I saw then I was to blame somehow, and I wished I hadn't said anything - about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say anything - more. So when she grabbed hold of me and asked me again what I meant I - blubbered harder, as a kid will, and said nothing. I wished I hadn't set - those flatirons on the cistern lid, for it came to me all at once that - even if Hank had turned into a corpse I hadn't any right to keep him in - the cistern. - </p> - <p> - Just then old Mis' Rogers, one of our neighbours, came by, while Elmira - was shaking me and yelling at me and asking how it happened, and had I - seen it, and where was Hank's corpse. - </p> - <p> - “What's Danny been doing now?” asked Mis' Rogers—me being always up - to something. - </p> - <p> - Elmira turned and saw her and gave a whoop and hollered out: “Hank is - dead!” And she threw her apron over her head and sat right down in the - path and boo-hooed like a baby. And I bellered and howled all the louder. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ask anything more. She saw she had a - piece of news, and she wanted to be the first to spread it. She ran right - across the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, she saw - her coming and unhooked the screen door and Mis' Rogers hollered out - before she reached the porch: “Hank Walters is dead!” - </p> - <p> - And then she went footing it up the street. There was a black plume on her - bonnet, nodding the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of seven - front yards in less than five minutes. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Alexander she ran across the road to where we were, and kneeled down - and put her arm around Elmira, who was still rocking back and forth in the - path, and she said: - </p> - <p> - “How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I saw him not more than an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Danny saw it all,” says Elmira. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Alexander turned to me and wanted to know what happened and how it - happened and where it happened. But I didn't want to say anything about - that cistern. So I busted out crying all over again and I said: “He was - drunk and he came home drunk and he did it then, and that's how he did - it.” - </p> - <p> - “And you saw him?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - I nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” says she and Elmira, both together. - </p> - <p> - But I was scared to say anything about that cistern, so I just bawled some - more. - </p> - <p> - “Was it in the blacksmith shop?” asks Mis' Alexander. - </p> - <p> - I nodded my head again, and let it go at that. - </p> - <p> - “Is he in there now?” she wants to know. - </p> - <p> - I nodded again. I hadn't meant to give out any untrue stories. But a kid - will always lie, not meaning particular to lie, if you sort of invite him - with questions like that, and get him scared by the way you're acting. - Besides, I says to myself, so long as Hank has turned into a corpse, and - being a corpse makes him dead, what's the difference whether he's in the - blacksmith shop or in the cistern? I hadn't had any plain idea before that - being a corpse meant the same thing as being dead. And I wasn't any too - sure what being dead was like, either. Except I knew they had funerals - over you then. I knew being a corpse must be a disadvantage from the way - that Elmira has always said to keep away from that cistern, or I'd be one. - And I began to see the whole thing was more important even than I had - figured it was at first. I wondered if there'd be a funeral at our house. - If there was one, that would be fine. They didn't have them every day in - our town, and we hadn't ever had one of our own. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis' - Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a-tagging along behind holding on - to Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all those - women that Mis' Rogers had told came filing into the house, one at a time, - looking sad and mournful. Only old Mis' Primrose, she was a little late - getting there, because she stopped to put on the dress she always wore to - funerals, with the black Paris lace on to it that her cousin Arminty White - had sent her from Chicago. - </p> - <p> - When they found out that Hank had come home with liquor in him and done it - himself they were all excited and they all crowded around and asked me - questions, except two that were holding Elmira's hands where she sat - moaning in a chair. And those questions scared me and egged me on to lies - I hadn't had any idea of telling. - </p> - <p> - Says one woman: “Danny, you saw him do it in the blacksmith shop?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. - </p> - <p> - “But how did he get in?” says another one. “The door was locked on the - outside with a padlock just now when I came by. He couldn't have killed - himself in there and then locked the door on the outside.” - </p> - <p> - I didn't see how he could have done that myself, so I began to bawl again - and said nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - “He must have crawled into the shop through that little side window,” says - Mis' Primrose. “That window was open when I came by, even if the door was - locked. Did you see him crawl through the little side window, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. There wasn't anything else I could think of to do. - </p> - <p> - “But you aren't tall enough to look through that window;” sings out Mis' - Rogers. “How could you see into the shop, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I didn't know, so I didn't say anything at all; I just sniffled. - </p> - <p> - “There's a store box right in under the window,” says another one. “Danny - must have climbed on to that store box and looked in after he saw Hank - crawl through the window. Did you scramble on to the store box and look - in, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I just nodded again. - </p> - <p> - “And what was it you saw him do? How did he kill himself?” they all asked - together. - </p> - <p> - I didn't know. So I just bellered and boo-hooed some more. Things were - getting past anything I could see the way out of. - </p> - <p> - “He might have hung himself to one of the iron rings in the joists above - the forge,” says another woman. - </p> - <p> - “He climbed on to the forge and tied the rope to one of those rings, and - tied the other end around his neck, and then he stepped off the forge and - swung. Was that how he did it, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. And I bellered louder than ever. I knew that Hank was down in - that cistern below the kitchen, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all this - time; but those women kind of got me to thinking he was hanging out in the - blacksmith shop by the forge, too. - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon one woman says, shivery: “I wouldn't want to have the job of - opening the door of the blacksmith shop the first one!” - </p> - <p> - And they all shivered, and looked at Elmira, and says to let some of the - men open that door. And Mis' Alexander says she'll run and get her husband - and make him do it. And all the time Elmira sits moaning in that chair. - One woman says Elmira ought to have a cup of tea, and she'll lay off her - bonnet and go to the kitchen and make it for her. But Elmira says no, she - can't a-bear to think of tea, with poor Hennery hanging out there in the - shop. But she was kind of enjoying all that fuss being made over her, too. - And all the other women said: “Poor thing!” But most of them were mad - because she said she didn't want any tea, for they wanted some and didn't - feel free to take it without she took some. They coaxed her and made her - see that it was her duty, and she said she'd have some finally. - </p> - <p> - So they all went out to the kitchen, taking along some of the best room - chairs, Elmira coming, too, and me tagging along. The first thing they - noticed was those flatirons on top of the cistern lid. Mis' Primrose says - that looks funny. But Mis' Rogers says Danny must have been playing with - them. “Were you playing they were horses, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I nodded. I - couldn't see any use hurrying things up. I was bound to get a licking - pretty soon anyhow. I could always bet on that. So they picked up the - flatirons, and as they picked them up there came a splashing noise in the - cistern. I thought to myself that Hank's corpse would be out of there in a - minute, and then I'd catch it. One woman says: “Sakes alive! What's that - noise?” - </p> - <p> - Elmira says the cistern is full of fish and it must be some of the biggest - ones flopping around. If they hadn't been worked up and excited and - talking all together and thinking of Hank hanging out in the blacksmith - shop they might have suspicioned something, for that flopping and - splashing kept up steady. Maybe I should have mentioned sooner it had been - a dry summer and there was only three or four feet of water in the cistern - and Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. When Elmira says - the cistern is full of fish that woman opens the trap door and looks in. - Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out, he says afterward. And he - allows he'll keep quiet in there and make believe he is drowned and give - her a good scare and make her feel sorry for him. - </p> - <p> - But when the cistern door was opened he heard a lot of clacking tongues - like a hen convention, and he allowed she had told the neighbours, and - he'd scare them, too. So he laid low. And the woman that looked in, she - sees nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale that - swallowed Jonah. But she left the door open and went on making tea, and - there wasn't scarcely a sound from that cistern, only little ripply noises - like it might have been fish. Pretty soon Mis' Rogers says: - </p> - <p> - “It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?” Elmira kicked some more, - but she took hers. And each woman took hers. And one woman, a-sipping of - hers, she says: - </p> - <p> - “The departed had his good points, Elmira.” - </p> - <p> - Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town for years and - years. - </p> - <p> - Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no matter - what come of it, and she ups and says: “I don't believe in any hypocritics - at a time like this, any more'n any other time. The departed wasn't any - good, and the whole town knows it, and Elmira ought to feel like it's good - riddance of bad rubbish, and such is my sentiments and the sentiments of - truth and righteousness.” - </p> - <p> - All the other women sings out: “W'y, Mis' Primrose, I never!” But down in - underneath more of 'em agreed than let on to. Elmira she wiped her eyes - and says: - </p> - <p> - “Hennery and me had our troubles, there ain't any use denying that, Mis' - Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. And - the whole town knows he has lifted his hand against me more'n once. But I - always stood up to Hennery and I fit him back, free and fair and open. I - give him as good as he sent on this earth and I ain't the one to carry a - mad beyond the grave. I forgive Hennery all the orneriness he did to me, - and there was a lot of it, as is becoming to a church member, which he - never was.” - </p> - <p> - All the women but Mis' Primrose says: “Elmira, you <i>have</i> got a - Christian sperrit!” Which did her a heap of good, and she cried - considerable harder, leaking out tears as fast as she poured tea in. And - each one present tried to think up something nice to say about Hank, only - there wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that cistern, listening to - every word of it. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Rogers, she says: “Before he took to drinking like a fish, Hank - Walters was as likely a lookin' young feller as ever I see.” - </p> - <p> - Mis' White, she says: “Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, anyhow. Often - and often White has told me about seeing Hank treating the crowd down in - Nolan's saloon just as come-easy, go-easy as if it wasn't money he'd ought - to have paid his honest debts with.” - </p> - <p> - They sat there that way telling of what good points they could think of - for ten minutes, and Hank hearing it and getting madder and madder all the - time. By and by Tom Alexander came busting into the house. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with all you women?” he says. “There's nobody hanging - in that blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, and it's - empty.” - </p> - <p> - There was a pretty howdy-do, then, and they all sing out: - </p> - <p> - “Where's the corpse?” - </p> - <p> - Some thinks maybe someone has cut it down and taken it away, and all - gabbled at once. But for a minute or two no one thought that maybe little - Danny had been egged on to tell lies. And little Danny ain't saying a - word. But Elmira grabbed me and shook me and said: - </p> - <p> - “You little liar, what do you mean by that story of yours?” - </p> - <p> - I thought that licking was about due then. But whilst all eyes were turned - on me and Elmira, there came a voice from the cistern. It was Hank's - voice, but it sounded queer and hollow, and it said: - </p> - <p> - “Tom Alexander, is that you?” - </p> - <p> - Some of the women screamed, for they thought it was Hank's ghost. But Mis' - Primrose says: “What would a ghost be doing in a cistern?” - </p> - <p> - Tom Alexander laughed and yelled down into the cistern: “What in blazes - you want to jump in there for, Hank?” - </p> - <p> - “You darned ijut!” said Hank, “you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and - when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ask me what I wanted to jump in - here for!” - </p> - <p> - “You never saw the day you could do it,” says Tom Alexander, meaning the - day Hank could lick him. “And if you feel that way about it you can stay - down there, for all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you any, for - a change.” And he left the house. - </p> - <p> - “Elmira,” sings out Hank, mad and bossy, “you go get me a ladder!” - </p> - <p> - But Elmira, her temper rose up, too, all of a sudden. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, - Hennery Walters,” she says. - </p> - <p> - Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. “When I get out'n here,” he shouted, - “I'll give you what you won't forget in a hurry! I heard you a-forgivin' - me and a-weepin' over me! And I won't be forgive nor weeped over by no - one! You go and get that ladder!” - </p> - <p> - But Elmira only answered: “You was drunk when you fell in there, Hank - Walters. And you can stay in there till you get a better temper on to - you.” And all the women laughed and said: “That's right, Elmira! Spunk up - to him!” - </p> - <p> - There was considerable splashing around in the water for a couple of - minutes. And then, of a sudden, a live fish came a-whirling out of that - hole in the floor, which he catched with his hands. It was a big bullhead, - and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, and it landed - kerplump on to Mis' Rogers' lap, a-wiggling, and it horned her on the - hands. She was that surprised she fainted. Mis' Primrose, she got up and - licked the fish back into the cistern and said, right decided: - </p> - <p> - “Elmira Walters, if you let Hank out of that cistern before he's signed - the pledge and promised to jine the church, you're a bigger fool than I - take you for. A woman has got to make a stand!” - </p> - <p> - And all the women sing out: “Send for Brother Cartwright! Send for Brother - Cartwright!” - </p> - <p> - And they sent me scooting down the street to get him quick. He was the - preacher. I never stopped to tell but two or three people on the way to - his house, but they must have spread the news quick, for when I got back - with him it looked like the whole town was at our house. - </p> - <p> - It was along about dusk by this time, and it was a prayer meeting night at - the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks that came to - the prayer meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait for him. But she - really told them where he'd gone, and what for. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Cartwright marched right into our kitchen. All the chairs in the house - was in there, and the women were talking and laughing, and they had sent - to the Alexanderses for their chairs, and to the Rogerses for theirs. - Every once in a while there would be an awful burst of language come - rolling up from the hole where that unregenerate old sinner was cooped up. - </p> - <p> - I have travelled around considerable since those days, and I have mixed up - along with many kinds of people in many different places, and some of them - were cussers to admire. But I never heard such cussing before or since as - old Hank did that night. He busted his own records and he rose higher than - his own water marks for previous years. I wasn't anything but a little kid - then, not fit to admire the full beauty of it. They were deep down cusses - that came from the heart. Looking back at it after these years, I can well - believe what Brother Cartwright said himself that night—that it - wasn't <i>natural</i> cussing, and that some higher power, like a demon or - an evil sperrit, must have entered into Hank's human carcase and given - that terrible eloquence to his remarks. It busted out every few minutes, - and the women would put their fingers into their ears until a spell was - over. And it was personal, too. Hank would listen till he heard a woman's - voice he knew, and then he would let loose on her family, going back to - her grandfathers and working downward to her children's children. - </p> - <p> - Brother Cartwright steps up to the hole in the floor and says gentle and - soothing like an undertaker when he tells you where to sit at a home - funeral: - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters! Oh, Brother Walters!” - </p> - <p> - “Brother!” yelled Hank, “don't ye brother me, you snifflin', - psalm-singin', yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hyp-percrit, you! Get me a - ladder, gol dern ye, and I'll mount out o'here and learn ye to brother me, - I will!” Only that wasn't anything to what Hank really said; no more like - than a little yellow fluffy canary is like a turkey buzzard. - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters,” said the preacher, calm but firm, “we have all decided - that you aren't going to get out of that cistern until you sign the - pledge.” - </p> - <p> - Then Hank told him what he thought of him and pledges and church doings, - and it wasn't pretty. He said if he was as deep in the eternal fire of - hell as he was in rain water, and every fish that nibbled at his toes was - a devil with a red-hot pitchfork sicked on by a preacher, they could jab - at him until the whole hereafter turned into icicles before he'd sign - anything that a man like Mr. Cartwright gave him to sign. Hank was - stubborner than any mule he ever nailed shoes on to, and proud of being - that stubborn. That town was a most awful religious town, and Hank knew he - was called the most unreligious man in it, and he was proud of that, too; - and if any one called him a heathen it just plumb tickled him all over. - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters,” says the preacher, “we are going to pray for you.” - </p> - <p> - And they did it. They brought all the chairs close up around the cistern - door, in a ring, and they all knelt down there with their heads on the - chairs and prayed for Hank's salvation. They did it up in style, too, one - at a time, and the others singing out, “Amen!” every now and then, and - they shed tears down on to Hank. - </p> - <p> - The front yard was crowded with men, all laughing and talking and chawing - and spitting tobacco, and betting how long Hank would hold out. Si Emery, - that was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated star, was - out there with them. Si was in a sweat, because Bill Nolan, who ran the - saloon, and some more of Hank's friends were out by the front fence trying - to get Si to arrest the preacher. For they said that Hank was being - gradually murdered in that water and would die if he was held there too - long, and it would be a crime. Only they didn't come into the house - amongst us religious folks to say it. But Si, he says he don't dare to - arrest anybody, because Hank's house is just outside the village - corporation line; he's considerable worried about what his duty is, not - liking to displease Bill Nolan. - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright had rounded up at the prayer - meeting came stringing along in. They had brought their hymn books with - them, and they sung. The whole town was there then, and they all sung. - They sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank, he would just cuss and cuss. - Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would start - another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard began to warm up and - sing, too, all but Nolan's crowd, and they gave Hank up for lost and went - back to the barroom. - </p> - <p> - The first thing they knew they had a regular old-fashioned revival meeting - going there, and that preacher was preaching a regular revival sermon. - I've been to more than one camp meeting, but for just naturally taking - hold of the whole human race by the slack of the pants and dangling of it - over hell fire, I never heard that sermon equalled. Two or three old - backsliders in the crowd came right up and repented all over again. The - whole kit-and-biling of them got the power, good and hard, and sung and - shouted till the joints of the house cracked and it shook and swayed on - its foundations. But Hank, he only cussed. He was obstinate, Hank was, and - his pride and dander had risen up. - </p> - <p> - “Darn your ornery religious hides,” he says, “you're takin' a low-down - advantage of me, you are! Let me out on to dry land, and I'll show you - who'll stick it out the longest, I will!” - </p> - <p> - Most of the folks there hadn't had any suppers, so after all the sinners - but Hank had either got converted or sneaked away, some of the women said - why not make a kind of a love feast of it, and bring some victuals, like - they do at church sociables. Because it seemed that Satan was going to - wrestle there all night, like he did with the angel Jacob, and they ought - to be prepared. So they did it. They went and they came back with things - to eat and they made hot coffee and they feasted that preacher and - themselves and Elmira and me, right in Hank's hearing. - </p> - <p> - And Hank was getting pretty hungry himself. And he was cold in that water. - And the fish were nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out and weak - and soaked full of despair. There wasn't any way for him to sit down and - rest. He was scared of getting cramps in his legs and sinking down with - his head under water and being drowned. - </p> - <p> - He said afterward he would have done the last with pleasure if there had - been any way of starting a lawsuit for murder against that gang. So along - between ten and eleven o'clock that night he sings out: - </p> - <p> - “I give in, gosh dern ye, I give in! Let me out and I'll sign your pesky - pledge!” - </p> - <p> - Brother Cartwright was for getting a ladder and letting him climb out - right away. But Elmira said: “You don't know him like I do! If he gets out - before he's signed the pledge, he'll never do it.” - </p> - <p> - So Brother Cartwright wrote out a pledge on the inside leaf of the Bible, - and tied it on to a string, and a pencil on to another string, and let - them down, and held a lantern down, too, and Hank made his mark, for he - couldn't write. But just as Hank was making his mark that preacher spoke - some words over Hank, and then he said: - </p> - <p> - “Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the - church.” - </p> - <p> - You might have thought that Hank would have broken out into profanity - again at that, for he hadn't agreed to anything but signing the pledge. - But he didn't cuss. When they got the ladder and he climbed up into the - kitchen, shivering and dripping, he said serious and solemn to Mr. - Cartwright: - </p> - <p> - “Did I hear you baptizing me in that water?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Cartwright said he had. - </p> - <p> - “That was a low-down trick,” said Hank. “You knowed I always made my brags - that I'd never jined a church and never would. You knowed I was proud of - that. You knowed it was my glory to tell it, and that I set a heap of - store by it, in every way. And now you've gone and took that away from me! - You've gone and jined me to the church! You never fought it out fair and - square, man strivin' to outlast man, like we done with the pledge, but you - sneaked it on to me when I wasn't lookin'!” - </p> - <p> - And Hank always thought he had been baptized binding and regular. And he - sorrowed and grieved over it, and got grouchier and meaner and drunkener. - No pledge nor no Prohibition could hold Hank. He was a worse man in every - way after that night in the cistern, and took to licking me harder and - harder. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ACCURSED HAT - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> request of you a - razor, and you present me with this implement! A safety razor! One cannot - gash oneself with your invention. Do you think I rush to your apartment - with the desire to barber myself? No, <i>milles diables</i>, no! I 'ave - embrace you for my friend, and you mock at my despair. This tool may - safely abolish the 'air from the lip of the drummer when the train 'ave to - wiggle, but it will not gash the jugular; it will not release the bluest - blood of France that courses through one's veins. - </p> - <p> - <i>Oui,</i> I will restrain myself. I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i> I - will make myself of a calmness. I will explain. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it is a woman. What else? At the insides of all despair it is a woman - ever. That is always the—the—w'at you call 'im?—the one - best bet. - </p> - <p> - Listen. I love 'er. She own the 'ouse of which I am one of the lodgers, - in'abiting the chamber beneath the skylight. She is a widow, and I love - 'er. Of such a roundness is she!—and she 'ave the restaurant beyond - the street. Of such a beauty!—and 'er 'usband, who was a Monsieur - Flanagan, 'e leave 'er w'at you call well fix with life-insurance. So well - fix, so large, so brilliant of the complexion, so merry of the smile, so - competent of the ménage, of such a plumpness! 'Ow should it be that one - did not love 'er? - </p> - <p> - But she? Does she smile on the 'andsome Frenchman who in'abit 'er skylight - chamber and paint and paint and paint all day long, and sell, oh, so - little of 'is paintings? <i>Hélas!</i> She scarcely know that 'e exist! - She 'ave scarcely notice 'im. 'Ow is genius of avail? W'at is wit, w'at is - gallantry, w'at is manner—w'at is all these things w'en one does not - possess the—the—w'at you call 'im?—the front? <i>Hélas!</i> - I love, but I 'ave not the front! My trousers are all of a fringe at the - bottom, and my collars are all of a frowsiness at the top. My sleeves are - of such a shine! And my 'at—— - </p> - <p> - Ten thousand curses for the man that invented 'ats! You are my friend—'ave - you a pistol? Yes, I will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. I will restrain - myself. <i>Merci</i>, monsieur. - </p> - <p> - My sleeves are of a sleekness; and my 'at——My 'at, I look at - 'im. 'E is—w'at you call 'im?—on the boom! I contemplate 'im - sadly. I regard 'im with reproach. 'E is ridiculous. 'E look like 'e been - kicked. With such a 'at, who can enact the lover? With such a 'at, who can - win 'imself a widow? I fly into a rage. I tear from my 'air. I shake my - fist at the nose of fate. I become terrible. I dash my 'at upon the floor, - and jump upon 'im with fury. Then I look at 'im with 'atred. 'E look back - at me with sorrow in 'is wrinkles. And, <i>Voilà!</i>—as I look at - 'im I 'ave a thought. The 'at, 'e straighten out from my jump. W'en my - feet is off, 'e rise a little way from 'is wrinkles where I crush 'im. 'E - lift 'imself slowly like a jack-in-the-box up from 'is disgrace. And I - 'ave an idea. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, we Frenchmen are a people of resource! - </p> - <p> - I take my thought to an agent of the advertising profession. I say I 'ave - come to the place where I am willing to degrade my genius for gold. I wish - to eat more often. I wish to marry the widow I love. I will forget my art; - I will make some dollars; I will degrade myself temporarily. The agent of - advertising 'e say 'e 'ave no need of any degradation, to take 'im - somewhere else. But I explain, and behold! I am engaged to go to work. - They furnish me with clothes of a design the most fashionable, and with a - 'at of which I am myself the architect, and I go to work. I 'ate it, but I - go to work. - </p> - <p> - The manner of my work is this. The 'at, 'e does it all. (<i>Accursed 'at!</i>) - 'E is so built that on the outside 'e look like any other silk 'at. But 'e - 'ave 'is secrets. 'E 'ave 'is surprises. On 'is inside there is a - clockwork and a spring. At intervals 'e separate 'imself in two in the - middle, and the top part of 'im go up in the air, slowly, one inch, two - inch, three inch, four inch, five inch, six inch—like a telescope - that open 'imself out. And w'at 'ave we then? <i>Voila!</i> We 'ave a - white silk place, and on it is printed in grand letters: - </p> - <h3> - YOU ARE TOO FAT! - </h3> - <h3> - DR. BLINN - </h3> - <h3> - WILL MAKE YOU THIN - </h3> - <p> - You see, my friend? It is now my profession, every afternoon for three - hours, to join the promenade; to display my 'at; to make fast in the minds - of the people 'ow fortunate a discovery is the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, I am always the gentleman. Am I forced into a vulgar role? Well, - then, there is something about me that redeems it from vulgarity. I am a - movable advertisement, but none the less I am an advertisement of dignity. - Those clothes they furnish, I 'ave made under my own direction. I adorn my - foot in the most poetical of boots. Only a Frenchman might 'ave created my - coat. My trousers are poems. I am dressed with that inspiration of - elegance which only a man of my imagination might devise. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, I am always the artist. That 'at, I nevaire let 'im go up with a - pop like a jacking-jump. 'E is not to startle the most sensitive of - ladies. W'en 'e arise, 'e arise slowly. 'E is majestic in 'is movement. 'E - ascend with gravity. 'E go up with dignity. - </p> - <p> - For three hours each day, I thus set aside my finer emotions. And all the - town smile; and many 'undreds rush to buy the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn. - 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan—— - </p> - <p> - Curses upon the perfidy of woman! Do not 'old me, I say! Let me go! I will - leap from your window to the stones below! Well, I will restrain myself. - Yes, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i> - </p> - <p> - 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan does not perceive that I thus make of my - 'ead a billboard three hours each day? Monsieur, all Frenchmen are of an - originality w'en driven to it by fate, and not the least of them am I! To - 'er I am still the poor but 'andsome artist. It is in the parlours of the - agent of advertising that I dress myself, I don the 'at, each day. I wear - before my eyes a thick spectacles; I 'ide my black 'air beneath a gray - wig; I 'ave shave my own beard and each day put on moustache and royal of - a colour the same with the wig. There is no danger that the grave - foreigner, so courteous, so elegant, so much the statesman, who condescend - to advertise the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn, shall be—shall be—w'at - you call 'im?—spotted by the Widow Flanagan. She does not connect - 'im with the 'andsome artist who in'abit 'er skylight chamber. To do so - would be to kill my 'opes. For love is not to be made ridiculous. - </p> - <p> - I prosper. I 'ave money each week. I eat. I acquire me some clothes which - are not the same with those worn by the employee of Monsieur Blinn. I buy - me a silk 'at which 'ave no clockwork in 'is inside. I acquire the—w'at - you call 'im?—the front. I dine at the café of the Widow Flanagan - beyond the street. I chat with the Widow Flanagan w'en I pay my check. - Monsieur, the Widow Flanagan at las' know the 'andsome Frenchman exist! - The front, 'e work like a charm. 'E give the genius beneath 'im the chance - to show w'at 'e can do. The front, 'e make—'ow you call 'im?—'e - make good. - </p> - <p> - 'Ave I said enough? You are my friend; you see me, w'at I am. Is it - possible that the Widow Flanagan should look upon me and not be of a - flutter throughout? I 'ave said enough. She see me; she love me. With - women, it is always so! - </p> - <p> - The day is name; we will marry. Already I look forward to the time that I - am no longer compelled to the service of the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn. - Already I indulge my fancy in my 'appiness with the beautiful Widow - Flanagan, whose 'usband 'ave fortunately die and leave 'er so ver' well - fix. But, <i>hélas!</i> - </p> - <p> - Grasp me! Restrain me! Again my grief 'ave overpower! 'Ave you a - rough-on-rats in the 'ouse? 'Ave you a poison? Yes, you are my friend. - Yes, I will restrain myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i> - </p> - <p> - The day is name. The day arrive. I 'ave shave. I 'ave bathe. I am 'appy. I - skip; I dance; I am exalt; all the morning I 'urn a little tune—O - love, love, love! And such a widow—so plump and so well fix! - </p> - <p> - The wedding is at the 'ome of Madame Flanagan. Meantime, I am with a - friend. The hour approach. The guests are there; the priest is there; the - mother of the Widow Flanagan, come from afar, is there. We arrive, my - friend and me. It is at the door that we are met by the mother of the - Widow Flanagan. It is at the door she grasp my 'and; she smile, and then, - before I 'ave time to remove my 'at—— - </p> - <p> - Accursed 'at! Restrain me! I will do myself a mischief! Well, yes, I will - be calm. I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci</i>, my friend. - </p> - <p> - I see 'er face grow red. She scream. She lift 'er and as if to strike me. - She scream again. I know not w'at I must think. The Widow Flanagan she - 'ear 'er mother scream. She rush downstairs. I turn to the Widow Flanagan, - but she 'as no eyes for me. She is gazing on my 'at. Monsieur, then I - know. I 'ave got the wrong one in dressing; and I feel that accursed thing - are lifting itself up to say to my bride and her mother: - </p> - <h3> - YOU ARE TOO FAT! - </h3> - <h3> - DR. BLINN - </h3> - <h3> - WILL MAKE YOU THIN - </h3> - <p> - And be'ind the Widow Flanagan and 'er mother come crowding fifty guests, - and everyone 'as seen my 'at make those remarks! Accursed widow! The door - is slam in my face! I am jilted! - </p> - <p> - Ah, laugh, you pigs of guests, laugh, till you shake down the dwelling of - the Widow Flanagan! Were it not that I remember that I once loved you, - Madame Flanagan, that 'ouse would now be ashes. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, I 'ave done. I 'ave spoken. Now I will die. 'Ave you a rope? - Well, I will calm myself. <i>Oui</i>, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci,</i> - monsieur! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ootball,” said Big - Joe, the friendly waiter, laying down the sporting page of my paper with a - reminiscent sigh, “ain't what it was twenty years ago. When I played the - game it was some different from wood-tag and pump-pump-pull-away. It's - went to the dogs.” - </p> - <p> - “Used to be a star, huh?” said I. “What college did you play with, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “No college,” said Joe, “can claim me for its alma meter.” - </p> - <p> - He seated himself comfortably across the table from me, as the more - sociably inclined waiters will do in that particular place. “I don't know - that I ever was a star. But I had the punch, and I was as tough as that - piece of cow you're trying to stick your fork into. And I played in one - game the like of which has never been pulled off before or since.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me about it,” said I, handing him a cigar. Joe sniffed and tasted it - suspiciously, and having made sure that it wasn't any brand sold on the - premises, lighted it. There was only one other customer, and it was near - closing time. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” he said, “it wasn't any kissing game in my day. Ever hear of a - place called Kingstown, Illinois? Well, some has and some hasn't. It's a - burg of about five thousand souls and it's on the Burlington. Along about - the time of the Spanish war it turned out a football team that used to eat - all them little colleges through there alive. - </p> - <p> - “The way I joined was right unexpected to me. I happened into the place on - a freight train, looking for a job, and got pinched for a hobo. When they - started to take me to the lock-up I licked the chief of police and the - first deputy chief of police, and the second deputy, but the other member - of the force made four, and four was too many for me. I hadn't been - incarcerated ten minutes before a pleasant looking young fellow who had - seen the rumpus comes up to the cell door with the chief, and says through - the bars: - </p> - <p> - “'How much do you weigh?' - </p> - <p> - “'Enough,' says I, still feeling sore, 'to lick six longhaired dudes like - you.' - </p> - <p> - “'Mebby,' says he, very amiable, 'mebby you do. And if you do, I've got a - job for you.' - </p> - <p> - “He was so nice about it that he made me ashamed of my grouch... - </p> - <p> - “'No offence meant,' says I. 'I only weigh 230 pounds now. But when I'm - getting the eats regular I soon muscles up to 250 stripped.' - </p> - <p> - “'I guess you'll do,' says he, 'judging by the fight you put up. We need - strength and carelessness in the line.' - </p> - <p> - “'What line is that?' says I, suspicious. - </p> - <p> - “'From now on,' says he, 'you're right tackle on the Kingstown Football - Team. I'm going to get you a job with a friend of mine that runs a livery - stable, but your main duty will be playing football. Are you on?' - </p> - <p> - “'Lead me to the training table,”' says I. And he paid me loose and done - it. - </p> - <p> - “This fellow was Jimmy Dolan, and he had once played an end on Yale, and - couldn't forget it. He and a couple of others that had been off to - colleges had started the Kingstown Team. One was an old Michigan star, and - the other had been a half-back at Cornell. The rest of us wasn't college - men at all, but as I remarked before, we were there with the punch. - </p> - <p> - “There was Tom Sharp, for instance. Tom was thought out and planned and - preforedestinated for a centre rush by Nature long before mankind ever - discovered football. Tom was about seventeen hands high, and his style of - architecture was mostly round about. I've seen many taller men, but none - more circumferous as to width and thickness. Tom's chest was the size and - shape of a barrel of railroad spikes, but a good deal harder. You couldn't - knock him off his feet, but if you could have, it wouldn't have done you - any good, for he was just as high one way as he was another—and none - of it idle fat. Tom was a blacksmith during his leisure hours, and every - horse and mule for miles around knowed him and trembled at his name. He - had never got hold of nothing yet that was solid enough to show him how - strong he was. - </p> - <p> - “But the best player was a big teamster by the name of Jerry Coakley. - Jerry was between six and eight feet high, and to the naked eye he was - seemingly all bone. He weighed in at 260 pounds <i>ad valorem</i>, and he - was the only long bony man like that I ever seen who could get himself - together and start quick. Tom Sharp would roll down the field calm and - thoughtful and philosophic, with the enemy clinging to him and dripping - off of him and crumpling up under him, with no haste and no temper, like - an absent-minded battleship coming up the bay; but this here Jerry Coakley - was sudden and nefarious and red-headed like a train-wreck. And the more - nefarious he was, the more he grinned and chuckled to himself. 'For two - years that team had been making a reputation for itself, and all the pride - and affection and patriotism in the town was centred on to it. I joined on - early in the season, but already the talk was about the Thanksgiving game - with Lincoln College. This Lincoln College was a right sizable school. - Kingstown had licked it the year before, and there were many complaints of - rough play on both sides. But this year Lincoln had a corking team. They - had beat the state university, and early in the season they had played - Chicago off her feet, and they were simply yearning to wipe out the last - year's disgrace by devastating the Kingstown Athletic Association, which - is what we called ourselves. And in the meantime both sides goes along - feeding themselves on small-sized colleges and athletic associations, - hearing more and more about each other, and getting hungrier and hungrier. - </p> - <p> - “Things looked mighty good for us up to about a week before Thanksgiving. - Then one day Jerry Coakley turned up missing. We put in 48 hours hunting - him, and at the end of that time there was a meeting of the whole chivalry - and citizenry of Kingstown in the opery hall to consider ways and means of - facing the public calamity. For the whole town was stirred up. The mayor - himself makes a speech, which is printed in full in the Kingstown <i>Record</i> - the next day along with a piece that says: 'Whither are we drifting?' - </p> - <p> - “Next day, after practice, Jimmy Dolan is looking pretty blue. - </p> - <p> - “'Cheer up,' says I, 'Jerry wasn't the whole team.' - </p> - <p> - “'He was about a fifth of it,' says Captain Dolan, very sober. - </p> - <p> - “'But the worst was yet to come. The very next day, at practice, a big - Swede butcher by the name of Lars Olsen, who played right guard, managed - to break his ankle. This here indignity hit the town so hard that it - looked for a while like Lars would be mobbed. Some says Lars has sold out - to the enemy and broke it on purpose, and the Kingstown <i>Record</i> has - another piece headed: 'Have we a serpent in our midst?' - </p> - <p> - “That night Dolan puts the team in charge of Berty Jones, the Cornell man, - with orders to take no risks on anything more injurious than signal - practice, and leaves town. He gets back on Wednesday night, and two guys - with him. They are hustled from the train to a cab and from the cab to the - American House, and into their rooms, so fast no one gets a square look at - them. - </p> - <p> - “But after dinner, which both of the strangers takes in their rooms, Dolan - says to come up to Mr. Breittmann's room and get acquainted with him, - which the team done. This here Breittmann is a kind of Austro-Hungarian - Dutchman looking sort of a great big feller, with a foreign cast of face, - like he might be a German baron or a Switzer waiter, and he speaks his - language with an accent. Mr. Rooney, which is the other one's name, ain't - mentioned at first. But after we talk with the Breittmann person a while - Jimmy Dolan says: - </p> - <p> - “'Boys, Mr. Rooney has asked to be excused from meeting any one to-night, - but you'll all have an opportunity to meet him to-morrow—after the - game.' - </p> - <p> - “'But,' says I, 'Cap, won't he go through signal practice with us?' - </p> - <p> - “Dolan and Breittmann, and Berty Jones, who was our quarterback and the - only one in the crowd besides Dolan who had met Mr. Rooney, looked at each - other and kind of grinned. Then Dolan says: 'Mr. Breittmann knows signals - and will run through practice with us in the morning, but not Mr. Rooney. - Mr. Breittmann, boys, used to be on the Yale scrub.' - </p> - <p> - “'Dem vas goot days, Chimmie,' says this here Breittmann, 'but der - naturalist, Chimmie, he is also the good days. What?' - </p> - <p> - “The next day, just before the game, I got my first glimpse of this Rooney - when he come downstairs with Breittmann and they both piled into a cab. He - wore a long overcoat over his football togs, and he had so many headpieces - and nose guards and things on to him all you could see of his face was a - bit of reddish looking whisker at the sides. - </p> - <p> - “'He's Irish by the name,' says 1, 'and the way he carries them shoulders - and swings his arms he must have learned to play football by carrying the - hod.' He wasn't a big man, neither, and I thought he handled himself kind - of clumsy. - </p> - <p> - “When we got out to the football field and that Lincoln College bunch - jumped out of their bus and began to pass the ball around, the very first - man we see is that there Jerry Coakley. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, sold out! - </p> - <p> - “Dolan and me ran over to the Lincoln captain. - </p> - <p> - “'You don't play that man!' says Dolan, mad as a hornet, pointing at - Jerry. Jerry, he stood with his arms crossed, grinning and chuckling to - himself, bold as Abraham Lincoln on the burning deck and built much the - same. - </p> - <p> - “'Why not?' says the college captain, 'he's one of our students.' - </p> - <p> - “'Him?' says I. 'Why, he's the village truck-driver here!' And that there - Jerry had the nerve to wink at me. - </p> - <p> - “'Mr. Coakley matriculated at Lincoln College a week ago,' says the - captain, Jerry he grinned more and more, and both teams had gathered into - a bunch around us. - </p> - <p> - “'Matriculated? Jerry did?' says Jimmy Dolan. 'Why, it's all Jerry can do - to write his name.' - </p> - <p> - “'Mr. Coakley is studying the plastic arts, and taking a special course in - psychology,' says the captain. - </p> - <p> - “'Let him play, Dolan,' says Tom Sharp. 'Leave him to me. I'll learn him - some art. I'll fix him!' - </p> - <p> - “'O, you Tom!' says Jerry, grinning good-natured. - </p> - <p> - “'O, you crook!' says Tom. And Jerry, still grinning good-natured, hands - Tom one. It took the rest of the two teams to separate them, and they both - started the game with a little blood on their faces. We made no further - kick about Jerry playing. All our boys wanted him in the game. 'Get him!' - was the word passed down the line. And after that little mix-up both sides - was eager to begin. - </p> - <p> - “We kicked off. I noticed this here Rooney person got down after the - kick-off rather slow, sticking close to his friend Breittmann. He was at - left tackle, right, between Breittmann at guard, and Dolan, who played - end. - </p> - <p> - “Jerry, he caught the kick-off and come prancing up the field like a - prairie whirlwind. But Dolan and me got to him about the same time, and as - we downed him Tom Sharp, quite accidental, stepped on to his head with - both feet. - </p> - <p> - “'Foul!' yells the referee, running up and waving his hand at Tom Sharp. - 'Get off the field, you! I penalize Kingstown thirty yards for deliberate - foul play!' - </p> - <p> - “But Jerry jumped up—it took more'n a little thing like that to - feaze Jerry—and shoved the referee aside. - </p> - <p> - “'No, you don't put him out of this game,' says Jerry. 'I want him in it. - I'll put him out all right!' - </p> - <p> - “Then there was a squabble, that ended with half of both teams ordered off - the field. And the upshot of which was that everybody on both sides agreed - to abolish all umpires and referees, and get along without any penalties - whatever, or any officials but the time-keeper. No, sir, none of us boys - was in any temper by that time to be interfered with nor dictated to by - officials. - </p> - <p> - “No, what followed wasn't hampered any by technicalities. No, sir, it - wasn't drop the handkerchief. There wasn't any Hoyle or Spalding or - Queensberry about it. It was London prize ring, <i>savate</i>, jiu juitsi - and Græco-Roman, all mixed up, with everybody making his own ground rules. - The first down, when Tom Sharp picked up that Lincoln College Captain and - hit Jerry Coakley over the head with him, five Lincoln College substitutes - give a yell and threw off their sweaters and run on to the field. Then we - heard another yell, and our substitutes come charging into the fray and by - the end of the first half there was eighteen men on each side, including - three in citizens' clothes who were using brass knucks and barrel staves.” - </p> - <p> - Joe paused a moment, dwelling internally upon memories evidently too sweet - for words. Then he sighed and murmured: “No, sir, the game ain't what it - was in them days. Kick and run and forward pass and such darned - foolishness! Football has went to the dogs! - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he resumed, flexing his muscles reminiscently, “neither side - wasted any time on end runs or punts. It was punch the line, and then - punch the line some more, and during the first ten minutes of play the - ball didn't move twenty yards either way from the centre of the field, - with a row on all the time as to whose ball it ought to be. As a matter of - fact, it was whoever's could keep his hands on to it. - </p> - <p> - “It was the third down before I noticed this fellow Rooney particular. - Then our quarterback sent a play through between guard and tackle. It was - up to Rooney to make the hole for it. - </p> - <p> - “As the signal was give, and the ball passed back, Breittmann laid his arm - across Rooney's shoulders, and I heard him say something in Dutch to him. - They moved forward like one man, not fast, but determined like. A big - college duffer tried to get through Rooney and spill the play. This here - Rooney took him around the waist and slammed him on to the ground with a - yell like a steamship that's discovered fire in her coal bunkers, and then - knelt on the remains, while the play went on over 'em. I noticed - Breittmann had a hard time getting Rooney off of him. They carried the - fellow off considerably sprained, and two more Lincoln College fellows - shucked their wraps and run in to take his place. - </p> - <p> - “The very next play went through the same hole, only this time the fellow - that went down under Rooney got up with blood soaking through his shoulder - padding and swore he'd been bit. But nobody paid any attention to him, and - the Lincoln boys put Jerry Coakley in opposite Rooney. - </p> - <p> - “'You cross-eyed, pigeon-toed Orangeman of a hod-carrier, you,' says - Jerry, when we lined up, trying to intimidate Rooney, 'I'll learn you - football.' - </p> - <p> - “But Rooney, with his left hand hold of Breittmann's, never said a word. - He just looked sideways up at Breittmann like he was scared, or mebby shy, - and Breittmann said something in Dutch to him. - </p> - <p> - “That play we made five yards, and we made it through Jerry Coakley, too, - Mr. Rooney officiating. When Breittmann got his friend off Jerry, Jerry - set up and tried to grin, but he couldn't. He felt himself all over, - surprised, and took his place in the line without saying a word. - </p> - <p> - “Then we lost the ball on a fumble, which is to say the Lincoln centre - jumped on to Tom Sharp's wrists with both feet when he tried to pass it, - and Jerry Coakley grabbed it. The first half closed without a score, with - the ball still in the centre of the field. - </p> - <p> - “The second half, I could see right away, Jerry Coakley had made up his - mind to do up Rooney. The very first play Lincoln made was a guard's back - punch right at Rooney. I reckon the whole Lincoln team was in that play, - with Jerry Coakley in the van. - </p> - <p> - “We got into it, too. All of us,” Joe paused again, with another - reflective smile. Pretty soon he continued. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, that was some scrimmage. And in the midst of it, whoever had - the ball dropped it. But for a minute, nobody seemed to care. And then we - discovered that them unsportsmanlike Lincoln College students had changed - to baseball shoes with metal spikes between the halves. We hadn't thought - of that. - </p> - <p> - “After about a minute of this mauling, clawing mess, right out of the - midst of it rolled the ball. And then came this here Rooney crawling after - it—<i>crawling</i> I say!—on his hands and feet. - </p> - <p> - “He picked it up and straightened himself. - </p> - <p> - “'Run, Rooney, run!' says I. And he had a clear field. But he didn't seem - to realize it. He just tucked that ball under one arm, and ambled. - </p> - <p> - “Half a dozen of us fell in and tried to make interference for him—but - he wouldn't run; he just dog-trotted, slow and comfortable. And in a - second Jerry Coakley sifted through and tackled him. - </p> - <p> - “Rooney stopped. Stopped dead in his track, as if he was surprised. And - then, using only one hand—only one hand, mind you—he picked - that there Jerry Coakley up, like he was an infant, give him one squeeze, - and slung him. Yes, sir, Jerry was all sort of crumpled up when he lit! - </p> - <p> - “And he kept on, slow and easy and gentle. The Lincoln gang spilled the - interference. But that didn't bother Rooney any. Slow and certain and easy - he went down that field. And every time he was tackled he separated that - tackier from himself and treated him like he had Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, he strung behind him ten men out of the nineteen players - Lincoln College had in that game, as he went down the field. From where I - was setting on top of the Lincoln centre rush, I counted 'em as he took - 'em. Slow and solemn and serious like an avenging angel, Mr. Rooney made - for them goal posts, taking no prisoners, and leaving the wounded and dead - in a long windrow behind him. It wasn't legalized football, mebby, but it - was a grand and majestic sight to see that stoop-shouldered feller with - the red whiskers proceeding calmly and unstoppably forward like the wrath - of God. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, the game was ours. We thought it was, leastways. All he had to - do was touch that there ball to the ground! The whole of Kingstown was - drawing in its breath to let out a cheer as soon as he done it. - </p> - <p> - “But it never let that yell. For when he reached the goal——” - </p> - <p> - Here Joe broke off again and chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “Say,” he said, “you ain't going to believe what I'm telling you now. It's - too unlikely. I didn't believe it myself when I seen it. But it happened. - Yes, sir, that nut never touched the ground with the ball! - </p> - <p> - “Instead, with the ball still under one arm, he climbed a goal post. - Climbed it, I tell you, with both legs and one arm. And setting straddle - of that cross bar believe me or not, he began to shuck. In front of all - that crowd, dud after dud, he shucked. - </p> - <p> - “And there wasn't no cheers then, for in a minute there he set, <i>a - monkey!</i> Yes, sir, the biggest blamed monkey you ever seen, trying to - crack that football open on a goal post under the belief that it was a - cocoa-nut. Monkey, did I say? Monkey ain't any word for it! He was a - regular ape; he was one of these here orang-outang baboons! Yes, sir, a - regular gosh-darned Darwinian gorilla!” - </p> - <p> - Joe took a fresh light for his cigar, and cocked his eye again at my - sporting supplement. “I notice,” he said, sarcastically, “Princeton had a - couple of men hurt yesterday in the Yale game. Well, accidents is bound to - happen even in ring-around-the-rosy or prisoner's base. What?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - TOO AMERICAN - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>s it a real - English cottage?” we asked the agent suspiciously, “or is it one that has - been hastily aged to rent to Americans?” - </p> - <p> - It was the real thing: he vouched for it. It was right in the middle of - England. The children could walk for miles in any direction without - falling off the edge of England and getting wet. - </p> - <p> - “See here!” I said. “How many blocks from Scotland is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Blocks from Scotland?” He didn't understand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I said, “blocks from Scotland.” I explained. My wife and I had been - trying to get a real English accent. That was one of the things we had - come to England for. We wanted to take it back with us and use it in - Brooklyn, and we didn't want to get too near Scotland and get any Scottish - dialect mixed up with it. It seemed that the cottage was quite a piece - from Scotland. There was a castle not far away—the fifteenth castle - on the right side as you go into England. When there wasn't any wind you - didn't get a raw sea breeze or hear the ocean vessels whistle. - </p> - <p> - “Is it overgrown with ivy,” asked Marian, my wife. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it was ivy-covered. You could scarcely see it for ivy—ivy that - was pulling the wall down, ivy as deep-rooted as the hereditary idea. - </p> - <p> - “Are the drains bad?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - They were. There would be no trouble on that score. What plumbing there - was, was leaky. The roof leaked. - </p> - <p> - There was neither gas nor electricity, nor hot and cold water, nor - anything else. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose the place is rather damp?” I said to the agent. “Is it chilly - most of the time? Are the flues defective? Are the floors uneven? Is the - place thoroughly uncomfortable and unsanitary and unhabitable in every - particular?” - </p> - <p> - Yes, it had all these advantages. I was about to sign the lease when my - wife plucked me by the sleeve in her impulsive American way. “Is there a - bathroom?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mrs. Minever,” said the agent with dignity, “there is not. I can - assure you that there are no conveniences of any kind. It is a real - English cottage.” - </p> - <p> - I took the place. It was evening of the third day after we took possession - that I discovered that we had been taken in. All the other Americans in - that part of England were sitting out in front of their cottages trying to - look as if they were accustomed to them, and we—my wife and Uncle - Bainbridge and I—were sitting in front of ours trying to act as - English as we knew how, when a voice hailed me. - </p> - <p> - “You are Americans, aren't you, sir?” said the voice. - </p> - <p> - The voice was anyhow; so we shamefacedly confessed. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you looked like it,” said the voice, and its owner came - wavering toward us through the twilight. - </p> - <p> - “What makes you think we look like it?” I said, a trifle annoyed; for it - had been my delusion that we had got ourselves to looking quite English—English - enough, at least, so that no one could tell us in the faint light. - </p> - <p> - “Our clothes don't fit us, do they?” asked my wife nervously. - </p> - <p> - “They can't fit us,” said I; “they were made in London.” - </p> - <p> - I spoke rather sharply, I suppose. And as I was speaking, a most - astonishing thing happened—the person I had been speaking to - suddenly disappeared. He was, and then he was not! I sprang up, and I - could tell from my wife's exclamation that she was startled, too. As for - Uncle Bainbridge, he seldom gives way to emotion not directly connected - with his meals or his money. - </p> - <p> - “Here, you!” I called out loudly, looking about me. - </p> - <p> - The figure came waveringly into view again. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you go to?” I demanded. “What do you mean by acting like that? - Who are you, anyhow?” - </p> - <p> - “Please, sir,” said the wavery person, “don't speak so crosslike. It - always makes me vanish. I can't help it, sir.” - </p> - <p> - He continued timidly: - </p> - <p> - “I heard a new American family had moved here and I dropped by to ask you, - sir, do you need a ghost?” - </p> - <p> - “A ghost! Are you——” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” with a deprecating smile. “Only an American ghost; but one who - would appreciate a situation all the more, sir, for that reason. I don't - mind telling you that there's a feeling against us American ghosts here in - England, and I've been out of a place for some time. Maybe you have - noticed a similar feeling toward Americans? I'm sure, sir, you must have - noticed a discrimination, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Don't say 'sir' all the time,” I told him. - </p> - <p> - “Beg pardon, sir,” he rejoined: “but it's a habit. I've tried very hard to - fit myself to English ways and it's got to be second nature, sir. My voice - I can't change; but my class—I was a barber in America, sir—my - class I have learned. And,” he repeated rather vacantly, “I just dropped - by to see if you wanted a ghost. Being fellow Americans, you know, I - thought——” His voice trailed off into humble silence, and he - stood twisting a shadowy hat round and round in his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “See here!” I said. “Should we have a ghost?” - </p> - <p> - “Beg pardon, sir, but how much rent do you pay?” I told him. - </p> - <p> - He answered politely but with decision, “Then, sir, in all fairness, you - are entitled to a ghost with the place. It gives a certain tone, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Why weren't we given one, then?” I asked - </p> - <p> - “Well——” he said, and paused. If a ghost can blush with - embarrassment, he blushed. “You see,” he went on, making it as easy for me - as he could, “English ghosts mostly object to haunting Americans, just as - American ghosts find it difficult to get places in English houses and - cottages. You see, sir, we are——” - </p> - <p> - He halted lamely, and then finished, “We're so <i>American</i> somehow, - sir.” - </p> - <p> - “But we've been cheated!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” said the American ghost, “regularly <i>had</i>” He said it in - quite an English manner, and I complimented him on his achievement. He - smiled with a child's delight. - </p> - <p> - “Would I do?” he urged again, with a kind of timid insistence. - </p> - <p> - My sympathies were with him. “You don't mind children?” I said. “We have - two.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he replied; “leastways, if they aren't very rough, I am not much - frightened of them.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess,” I began, “that——” I was about to say that he would - do, when my wife interrupted me. - </p> - <p> - “We do not want a ghost at all,” she said firmly. - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear——” - </p> - <p> - She raised her eyebrows at me, and I was silent. After looking from one to - the other of us wistfully for a moment, the applicant turned and drifted - away, vanishing dejectedly when he reached the gate. - </p> - <p> - “You heard what he said, Henry?” said my wife as he disappeared. “It is - lucky that you have me by you! Do you want to saddle yourself with an - American ghost? For my part, I will have an English ghost or none!” - </p> - <p> - I realized that Marian was right; but I felt sorry for the ghost. - </p> - <p> - “What did—the fellow—want?” roared Uncle Bain-bridge, who is - deaf, and brings out his words two or three at a time. - </p> - <p> - “Wanted to know—if we wanted—a ghost!” I roared in reply. - </p> - <p> - “Goat? Goat? Huh-huh!” shouted Uncle Bain-bridge. “No, sir! Get 'em a pony—and - a cart—little cart! That's the best—thing—for the kids!” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Bainbridge is, in fact, so deaf that he is never bothered by the - noises he makes when he eats. As a rule when you speak to him he first - says, “How?” Then he produces a kind of telephone arrangement. He plugs - one end into his ear, and shoves a black rubber disk at you. You talk - against the disk, and when he disagrees with you he pulls the plug out of - his ear to stop your foolish chatter, and snorts contemptuously. Once my - wife remarked to me that Uncle Bainbridge's hearing might be better if he - would only cut those bunches of long gray hair out of his ears. They annoy - every one except Uncle Bainbridge a great deal. But the plug was in, after - all, and he heard her, and asked one of the children in a terrible voice - to fetch him the tin box he keeps his will in. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Bainbridge is <i>my</i> uncle. My wife reminds me of that every now - and then. And he is rather hard to live with. But Marian, in spite of his - little idiosyncrasies, has always been generous enough to wish to protect - him from designing females only too ready to marry him for his money. So - she encourages him to make his home with us. If he married at all, she - preferred that he should marry her cousin, Miss Sophia Calderwod. That was - also Miss Sophia's preference. - </p> - <p> - We did get a ghost, however, and a real English ghost. The discovery was - mine. I was sitting in the room we called the library one night, alone - with my pipe, when I heard a couple of raps in, on, about, or behind a - large bookcase that stood diagonally across one corner. It was several - days after we had refused the American applicant, and I had been thinking - of him more or less, and wondering what sort of existence he led. One half - the world doesn't know how the other half lives. I suppose my reflections - had disposed my mind to psychic receptivity; for when I heard raps I said - at once: - </p> - <p> - “Are there any good spirits in the room?” It is a formula I remembered - from the days when I had been greatly interested in psychic research. - </p> - <p> - Rap! rap! came the answer from behind the bookcase. - </p> - <p> - I made a tour of the room, and satisfied myself that it was not a flapping - curtain, or anything like that. - </p> - <p> - “Do you have a message for me?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - The answer was in the affirmative. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - There was a confused and rapid jumble of raps. I repeated the question - with the same result. - </p> - <p> - “Can you materialize?” - </p> - <p> - The ghost rapped no. - </p> - <p> - Then it occurred to me that probably this was a ghost of the sort that can - communicate with the visible world only through replying to such questions - as can be answered by yes or no. There are a great many of these ghosts. - Indeed, my experience in psychic research has led me to the conclusion - that they are in the majority. - </p> - <p> - “Were you sent down by the agent to take this place?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “No!” It is impossible to convey in print the suggestion of hauteur and - offended dignity and righteous anger that the ghost managed to get into - that single rap. I have never felt more rebuked in my life; I have never - been made to feel more American. - </p> - <p> - “Sir or madam,” I said, letting the regret I felt be apparent in my voice, - “I beg your pardon. If you please, I should like to know whose ghost you - are. I will repeat the alphabet. You may rap when you wish me to stop at a - letter. In that way you can spell out your information. Is that - satisfactory?” - </p> - <p> - It was. - </p> - <p> - “Who are you?” - </p> - <p> - Slowly, and with the assured raps of one whose social position is defined, - fixed, and secure in whatever state of existence she may chance to find - herself, the ghost spelled out, “Lady Agatha Pelham.” - </p> - <p> - I hope I am not snobbish. Indeed, I think I have proved over and over - again that I am not, by frankly confessing that I am an American. But at - the same time I could not repress a little exclamation of pleasure at the - fact that we were haunted by the ghost of a member of the English - aristocracy. You may say what you will, but there is a certain something—a - manner—an air—I scarcely know how to describe it, but it is - there; it exists. In England, one meets it so often—I hope you take - me. - </p> - <p> - My gratification must have revealed itself in my manner. Lady Agatha - rapped out, if anything with more haughtiness than she had previously - employed—yes, even with a touch of defiance: - </p> - <p> - “I was at one time a governess.” - </p> - <p> - I gradually learned that while her own family was as good as the Pelham - family, Lady Agatha's parents had been in very reduced circumstances, and - she had had to become a governess. When Sir Arthur Pelham had married her, - his people acted very nasty. He hadn't any money, and they had wanted him - to marry some. He got to treating her very badly before he died. And - during his lifetime, and after it, Lady Agatha had had a very sad life - indeed. Still, you know, she was an aristocrat. She made one feel that as - she told her story bit by bit. For all this came very gradually, as the - result of many conversations, and not at once. We speedily agreed upon a - code, very similar to the Morse telegraphic code, and we still further - abbreviated this, until our conversations, after a couple of weeks, got to - be as rapid as that of a couple of telegraph operators chatting over the - wires. I intimated that it must be rather rough on her to be haunting - Americans, and she said that she had once lived in our cottage and liked - it. - </p> - <p> - In spite of her aristocracy, I don't suppose there ever was a more - domestic sort of ghost than Lady Agatha. We all got quite fond of her, and - I think she did of us, too, in spite of our being American. Even the - children got into the habit of taking their little troubles and - perplexities to her. And Marian used to say that with Lady Agatha in the - house, when Uncle Bain-bridge and I happened to be away, she felt so <i>safe</i> - somehow. - </p> - <p> - I imagine the fact that she had once been a governess would have made it - rather difficult for Lady Agatha in the house of an English family of - rank. On the other hand, her inherent aristocratic feeling made it quite - impossible for her to haunt any one belonging to the middle or lower - classes. She could haunt us, as Americans, and not feel that the social - question mattered so much, in spite of what the American ghost had hinted. - We Americans are so unclassified that the English often take chances with - individuals, quite regardless of what each individual's class would - naturally be if he had a class. Even while they do this they make us feel - very often that we are hopelessly American; but they do it, and I, for - one, am grateful. Lady Agatha sympathized with our desire to become as - English as possible, she could quite understand that. I find that many - Englishmen approve the effort, although remaining confident that it will - end in failure. - </p> - <p> - Lady Agatha helped us a great deal. We used to have lessons in the - evenings in the library. For instance, the children would stand at - attention in front of the bookcase, and repeat a bit of typical English - slang, trying to do it in an absolutely English way. They would do it over - and over and over, until finally Lady Agatha would give a rap of approval. - Or I would pretend that I was an Englishman in a railway carriage, and - that an American had just entered and I was afraid he would speak to me. I - got rather good at this, and made two or three trips to London to try it - out. I found that Americans were imposed on, and actually in one instance - I made one Englishman think that I was an Englishman who thought he was an - American. He was a nobody, however, and didn't really count. And then, I - am afraid, I spoiled it all. We Americans so often spoil it all! I enjoyed - it so that I told him. He looked startled and said, “But how American!” He - was the only Englishman I ever fooled. - </p> - <p> - But Lady Agatha's night classes were of great benefit to us. We used to - practise how to behave toward English servants at country houses, and how - to act when presented at court, and dozens of things like that: not that - we had been asked to a country house, or expected to be presented at court - soon. Marian and I had agreed that the greater part of this information - would be quite useless while Uncle Bainbridge was still spared to us. Even - in Brooklyn Uncle Bainbridge had been something of a problem at times. But - we thought it just as well to prepare ourselves for the sad certainty that - Uncle Bainbridge would pass into a better world before many years. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Bainbridge, who is very wealthy indeed, affects more informality - than the usual self-made man. He used to attend our evening classes with a - contemptuous expression upon his face, and snort at intervals. Once he - even called me “Puppy!” Then he thrust his telephone arrangement before my - face and insisted that I tell him whether I was sane or not. - </p> - <p> - “Puppy!” he bellowed. “Quit apin' the English! I get along with 'em myself—without - any nonsense! Treat 'em white! Always treat me white! No foolishness! - Puppy!” - </p> - <p> - My wife and I soon discovered that Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge were - on the most friendly terms. He would sit for hours in the library, with - his telephone receiver held patiently near the bookcase, shouting - questions and smiling and nodding over the answers. Marian and I were - afraid that Uncle Bainbridge, by his lack of polish, might offend Lady - Agatha. And at first it was her custom to hover about anxiously while they - were talking to each other. But Uncle Bainbridge discovered this, and - resented it to such an extent that she had to be cautious indeed. - </p> - <p> - His talks with Lady Agatha became longer and longer, and more and more - frequent, until finally he received more of her attention than all the - rest of us put together. Indeed, we need not have worried about Uncle - Bainbridge's offending Lady Agatha: the friendship grew closer and closer. - We were certain finally that it was taking on a strong tinge of - sentimentality. One day my wife stopped me just outside the library door - and said in a whisper, indicating the general direction of Lady Agatha's - bookcase with a wave of her hand: - </p> - <p> - “Henry, those two old things in there are calling each other Hiram and - Agatha!” - </p> - <p> - I listened, and it was so. A week later I heard Uncle Bainbridge seated by - the bookcase, bellowing out a sentimental song. He was having a great deal - of difficulty with it, and in order that he might hear himself he was - singing with the black disk arrangement held directly in front of his own - mouth. - </p> - <p> - I cannot say that Uncle Bainbridge became etherealized by the state of his - feelings toward Lady Agatha, whatever the exact state of his feeling may - have been. But he did change a little, and the change was for the better. - He cut out the bunches of gray hair from his ears, and he began to take - care of his fingernails. Lady Agatha was having a good influence upon him. - </p> - <p> - One day, as he and I were standing by the front gate, he suddenly - connected himself for speech and roared at me, with a jerk of his thumb - toward the house. - </p> - <p> - “Fine woman!” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” I shouted back. - </p> - <p> - “Aggie.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes. I suppose she—was.” - </p> - <p> - “No nonsense!” he yelled. “Husband was a brute! Marry her myself! In a - minute—if possible. Ain't possible! Shame! Bet she could make—good - dumplings—apple dumplings! Huh!” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Bainbridge is very fond of apple dumplings. His final test of a - woman is her ability to make good apple dumplings. Several women might - have married him had they been able to pass that examination. He can pay - no higher compliment to a woman than to be willing to believe her able to - make good dumplings. - </p> - <p> - “Aggie, in there!” he roared again, impatient because I was slow in - answering. “Dumplings! That kind of woman—could have made—good - dumplings!” - </p> - <p> - I felt, somehow, that it was going a bit too far to imagine Lady Agatha at - so plebeian a task as making apple dumplings. - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Bainbridge,” I shouted, “the upper classes—in England—can't - make—apple dumplings!” - </p> - <p> - Even as I shouted I was aware that some bypasser, startled at our loud - voices, was pausing just outside the gate. I turned to encounter for a - moment the haughty glare of the most English-looking elderly woman I have - ever seen. She had a large, high nose, and she was a large, high-looking - handsome woman generally. She said no word to me; but as she stared her - lips moved ever so slightly. I fancied that to herself she said, “Indeed!” - I have never felt more utterly superfluous, more abjectly American. She - turned from me with an air that denied my existence, a manner that - indicated that such things as I <i>could not</i> exist, and it would be - foolish to try to make her believe they did exist. She bowed to Uncle - Bainbridge, smiled as he returned her bow, and passed on. Uncle - Bainbridge's eyes followed her admiringly. - </p> - <p> - “'Mother fine woman!” he thundered, so that she must have heard him. - “Friend of mine! Sensible woman! No frills!” - </p> - <p> - I tried to ask him who she was, when and where he had become acquainted - with her, and a dozen other questions; but Uncle Bainbridge unplugged - himself, cutting off all communication with the outer world, and - resolutely refused any information. That he should know the lady did not - surprise me, however. It had happened several times since we had been in - England that Uncle Bainbridge had become friendly with people whom we did - not know. We never got from him any exact idea as to the social status of - these persons, and indeed we always found that he had no really definite - ideas on that subject to communicate. - </p> - <p> - Our dear Lady Agatha was almost the only English friend my wife and I had - made. - </p> - <p> - My wife and I were very well contented that Uncle Bainbridge's feeling for - Lady Agatha should grow stronger and stronger. We argued that while he was - so intimately friendly with dear Lady Agatha he would not be so likely to - fall a prey to any person who might want to marry him for his wealth. So - we decided to encourage the friendship in every way possible, and would - have been only too glad to have it go on indefinitely. - </p> - <p> - “I feel so at peace about Uncle Bainbridge now,” was the way my wife - expressed it, “with him and dear Lady Agatha so wrapped up in each other.” - </p> - <p> - But this cheerful condition of affairs was not destined to last many - weeks. One day my wife received a letter from her cousin, Miss Sophia - Calderwood. Cousin Sophia was in London, and would be with us on the - coming Saturday. She had spoken of the possibility of paying us a visit - while we were in England, and of course we had urged her to do so; - although at the time the possibility had seemed rather remote to us. - </p> - <p> - Miss Sophia was past her first youth, but still very girlish at times. - Under her girlishness there was a grim determination. She had made up her - mind to marry Uncle Bainbridge. My wife, as I have already said, had been - inclined to favour the idea, since it would keep strangers from getting - hold of Uncle Bainbridge's money. But now that Uncle Bainbridge and Lady - Agatha were getting along so well together my wife had begun to hope that - Uncle Bainbridge would never marry anybody. We both thought the friendship - might become an ideal, but none the less overmastering, passion; one of - those sacred things, you know, of the sort that keeps a man single all his - life. If Uncle Bainbridge remained unmarried out of regard for Lady - Agatha, we agreed, it would be much better for him at his time of life - than to wed Miss Sophia. - </p> - <p> - So we both considered Miss Sophia's visit rather inopportune. Not that we - felt that Uncle Bainbridge was predisposed toward her. On the contrary, he - had always manifested more fear than affection for her. But, I repeat, she - was a determined woman. The quality of her determination needed no better - evidence than the fact that she had, to put it vulgarly, pursued her - quarry across the seas. It was evident that the citadel of Uncle - Bainbridge's heart was to undergo a terrible assault. As for him, when he - heard she was coming, he only emitted a noncommittal snort. - </p> - <p> - Miss Sophia, when she arrived, had apparently put in the months since we - had seen her in resolute attempts at rejuvenation. She was more girlish - than I had known her in fifteen years. And she had set up a lisp. She - greeted Uncle Bainbridge impulsively, effusively. - </p> - <p> - “You dear man,” she shrilled into his telephone, “you don't detherve it, - but gueth what I've brought you all the way acroth the ocean! A new - rethipe for apple dumplings!” - </p> - <p> - “How?” said Uncle Bainbridge. “What say?” And when she repeated it he said - “Umph!” disconnected himself, and blew his nose loudly. He rarely said - anything to her but “Umph!” walking away afterward with now and then a - worried backward glance. - </p> - <p> - When we told Miss Sophia about Lady Agatha, and she finally understood the - intimacy that had grown up between Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge, she - looked reproachfully at my wife, as if to say, “You have been a traitor to - my cause!” And then she announced very primly, quite forgetting her lisp, - “I am quite sure that I, for one, do not care to make the acquaintance of - this person!” - </p> - <p> - “Cousin Sophia,” said my wife sharply, “what do you mean by that?” - </p> - <p> - “I think, Cousin Marian, that my meaning is sufficiently clear.” - </p> - <p> - “You forget,” rejoined my wife icily, “that dear Lady Agatha is our - guest.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Sophia sniffed, and was silent. - </p> - <p> - “Besides,” continued Marian, “what can you possibly have against her?” - </p> - <p> - “Marian,” said Miss Sophia, “will you answer me one question?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps, Cousin Sophia.” - </p> - <p> - “Cousin Marian, where, I ask you, <i>where</i> is Sir Arthur Pelham?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?” My wife was genuinely puzzled by - the question, and so was I. - </p> - <p> - “Exactly!” And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. “How should you know? I - imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the - circumstances, has not been very communicative.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Cousin Sophia——” I began. - </p> - <p> - She interrupted me. “Cousin Henry,” she said, “do you mean to say that you - approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married woman - entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady Agatha - Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are - susceptible when skillfully practised upon—especially with arts - which I have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry, - shameless! If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see - that the children were sent back to America before they become - contaminated by this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been - so corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous - relationship!” - </p> - <p> - “I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia,” I ventured, “and for the - life of me I cannot see anything wrong.” - </p> - <p> - It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am bound - to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur had been - alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady Agatha forming - any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir Arthur had been - in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, she would have - exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a close friendship - with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and Lady Agatha were in - the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir Arthur. - </p> - <p> - “Aristocrat or not,” she said, “she is indelicate, she is unladylike, she - is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to whom - she is not married.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!” said my wife, white with - anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting. - </p> - <p> - “It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such a - brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course,” said Cousin - Sophia. - </p> - <p> - I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to the - winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she might as - well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my wife is her - only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be permanent; - for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far many times - before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got over their - temper. - </p> - <p> - Miss Sophia, although certain now that she would receive no assistance - from my wife in her siege of Uncle Bainbridge, did not swerve from her - determination to subjugate him. I imagine it is rather difficult to give - battle when your rival is a ghost: the very intangibility of the tie makes - it hard to attack. Yet the person who is in the earth life has certain - advantages also. I do not know whether I have mentioned it or not, but - Miss Sophia could scarcely be called beautiful. One after another, all her - life, she had seen men upon whom she had set her affection become the - husbands of other women, and in her duel with the ghost there was a - quality of desperation that made the struggle, every move of which I - watched, extremely interesting. In spite of her announcement that she did - not care to meet Lady Agatha, she learned the code by which she - communicated with us, and did not absent herself from our gatherings in - the library. - </p> - <p> - Miss Sophia must have been desperate indeed, or she would not have - resorted to the trick she used. About a week after Miss Sophia's arrival - Lady Agatha suddenly ceased to communicate with us. We grew alarmed, - wondering what could have happened to her, as the days passed and the - friendly rappings were not resumed. In the light of what happened later I - am sure that Miss Sophia deliberately drove Lady Agatha away. What method - she used I do not know. But if she had said to Lady Agatha directly the - things that she had said to us about her, the insult would have been quite - sufficient to make that proud and gentle spirit take her departure. Likely - Miss Sophia got into communication with Lady Agatha and hurled at her the - bitter question, “Where is Sir Arthur Pelham?” Lady Agatha was not the - person to enter into any vulgar quarrel, nor yet to vouchsafe explanations - concerning her personal affairs. - </p> - <p> - Several days after Lady Agatha fell silent I heard Uncle Bainbridge - bellowing forth questions in the library. I was outside the house near the - library window, which was open. Thinking joyously that Lady Agatha had - returned to us, I stepped nearer to the window to make sure. I saw at - once, as I peeped in, that the bookcase, which set very near the window, - had been slightly moved. Miss Sophia, who was very thin, had managed to - introduce herself into the triangular space behind it—I had - mentioned that it set diagonally across one corner. She was crouched upon - the floor rapping out a conversation with Uncle Bainbridge—impersonating - Lady Agatha! Uncle Bainbridge, in front of the bookcase, was apparently - unsuspicious; nor did Miss Sophia suspect that I saw her through the - half-inch of window that commanded her hiding place. - </p> - <p> - “You must marry!” rapped Miss Sophia, in the character of Lady Agatha. - </p> - <p> - “Who?” bellowed Uncle Bainbridge. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Sophia Calderwood,” said the fake ghost. - </p> - <p> - “Aggie, I'm hanged if I do!” yelled Uncle Bainbridge. “Ask me—something—easy!” - </p> - <p> - “Hiram, listen carefully,” began the false Lady Agatha. Then she told him - that this would be their last interview. Circumstances over which she had - no control compelled her to depart. She was to assume another phase of - existence upon another plane. She could not explain to him so that he - would understand. But her interest in him would never flag. And she knew - that he would be happier wedded to some good woman. It was apparent to her - that Miss Sophia would make him the ideal wife. He would soon learn to - love Miss Sophia. She had considerable difficulty in getting the promise; - but finally Uncle Bainbridge snorted out a pledge that he would marry, and - stumped away. - </p> - <p> - That night he went to London. It was a week before he returned. I did not - communicate what I had seen and heard to Marion. The truth was, I felt - rather sorry for Miss Sophia. To resort to such a trick she must have been - desperate indeed. I tried to imagine what her life had been, and not - condemn her too harshly. And besides, if she was to marry Uncle - Bainbridge, which seemed settled now, I did not care to have her aware - that I knew her secret. - </p> - <p> - During the absence of Uncle Bainbridge she became quietly radiant, as - befits one who knows that the battle is won. She was evidently certain - that he would speak definitely upon his return. - </p> - <p> - The night that he came back he gathered us all about him in the library. - “Something to say! Important!” he shouted. - </p> - <p> - We all assumed attitudes of attention. - </p> - <p> - “Thinking maybe—get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge. It was just - like Uncle Bainbridge to announce the matter in the lady's presence before - having formally asked her; but I felt that it was a trifle hard on Miss - Sophia. But a glance at her reassured me on that score. She was flushed; - but it was the flush of triumph rather than the flush of embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Bought a brewery!” said Uncle Bainbridge. “Good brewery! Good beer! Like - English beer! Like English people!” - </p> - <p> - 1 felt that this was a little irrelevant, and I am sure that Miss Sophia - felt the same way. - </p> - <p> - “Bought a castle!” said Uncle Bainbridge, warming to the work. “Fine - castle! Like castles! Fix it up! Live in it! Settle here! Like England! - Fine country.” - </p> - <p> - “A castle! Oh, how lovely!” shrilled Miss Sophia, clapping her hands - girlishly. “How lovely for all of us!” - </p> - <p> - “Not invited!” roared Uncle Bainbridge, taking us all in with one sweeping - gesture. “None of you!” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “Going to get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge, rising to his feet. “Not - Sophia! Caught Sophia—behind bookcase! Knew all the time! Sneaky - trick! Marry fine woman! Henry saw her—over the fence that day! Fine - woman! Curate's mother here! Dumplings! Fine dumplings! Learned to make - 'em for me! She don't want—to get too thick—with any my - relations! She says—all of you—are too American!” - </p> - <p> - And as Uncle Bainbridge blew his nose loudly and sat down there was a - sudden rattle of rapping from the bookcase: nothing so articulate as a - remark in the code, but a sound more like a ripple of well-bred laughter. - This was the last we ever heard from Lady Agatha, and I have sometimes - wondered just what she meant by it. It is so hard, sometimes, to - understand just what the English are laughing at. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE SADDEST MAN - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he bench, the - barrel, and the cracker box in front of Hennery McNabb's general store - held three men, all of whom seemed to be thinking. Two of them were not - only thinking but chewing tobacco as well. The third, more enterprising - than the other two, more active, was exerting himself prodigiously. He was - thinking, chewing tobacco, and whittling all at the same time. - </p> - <p> - Two of the men were native and indigenous to Hazel-ton. They drew their - sustenance from the black soil of the Illinois prairie on which the little - village was perched. They were as calm and placid as the growing corn in - the fields round about, as solid and self-possessed and leisurely as the - bull-heads in the little creek down at the end of Main Street. - </p> - <p> - The third man was a stranger, somewhere between six and eight feet high - and so slender that one might have expected the bones to pop through the - skin, if one's attention had not been arrested by the skin itself. For he - was covered and contained by a most peculiar skin. It was dark and - rubbery-looking rather than leathery, and it seemed to be endowed with a - life of its own almost independent of the rest of the man's anatomy. When - a fly perched upon his cheek he did not raise his hand to brush it off. - The man himself did not move at all. - </p> - <p> - But his skin moved. His skin rose up, wrinkled, twitched, rippled beneath - the fly's feet, and the fly took alarm and went away from there as if an - earthquake had broken loose under it. He was a sad-looking man. He looked - sadder than the mummy of an Egyptian king who died brooding on what a long - dry spell lay ahead of him. - </p> - <p> - It was this third man of whom the other two men were thinking, this - melancholy stranger who sat and stared through the thick, humid heat of - the July day at nothing at all, with grievous eyes, his ego motionless - beneath the movements of his rambling skin. He had driven up the road - thirty minutes before in a flivver, had bought some chewing tobacco of - Hennery McNabb, and had set himself down in front of the store and chewed - tobacco in silence ever since. - </p> - <p> - Finally Ben Grevis, the village grave-digger and janitor of the church, - broke through the settled stillness with a question: - </p> - <p> - “Mister,” he said, “you ain't done nothing you're afraid of being arrested - for, hev you?” - </p> - <p> - The stranger slowly turned his head toward Ben and made a negative sign. - He did not shake his head in negation. He moved the skin of his forehead - from left to right and back again three or four times. And his eyebrows - moved as his skin moved. But his eyes remained fixed and melancholy. - </p> - <p> - “Sometimes,” suggested Hennery McNabb, who had almost tired himself out - whittling, “a man's system needs overhaulin', same as a horse's needs - drenchin'. I don't aim to push my goods on to no man, but if you was - feelin' anyway sick, inside or out, I got some of Splain's Liniment for - Man and Beast in there that might fix you up.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain't sick,” said the stranger, in a low and gentle voice. - </p> - <p> - “I never seen many fellers that looked as sad as you do,” volunteered Ben - Grevis. “There was a mighty sad-lookin' tramp, that resembled you in the - face some, was arrested here for bein' drunk eight or nine years ago, only - he wasn't as tall as you an' his skin was different. After Si Emery, our - city marshal, had kep' him in the lock-up over Sunday and turned him loose - again, it come to light he was wanted over in I'way for killin' a feller - with a piece of railroad iron.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain't killed anybody with any railroad iron over in I'way,” said the - lengthy man. And he added, with a sigh: “Nor nowheres else, neither.” - </p> - <p> - Hennery McNabb, who disagreed with everyone on principle—he was the - Village Atheist, and proud of it—addressed himself to Ben Grevis. - “This feller ain't nigh as sad-lookin' as that tramp looked,” said - Hennery. “I've knowed any number of fellers sadder-lookin' than this - feller here.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say this feller here was the saddest-lookin' feller I ever - seen,” said Ben Grevis. “All I meant was that he is sadder-lookin' than - the common run of fellers.” While Hennery disagreed with all the world, - Ben seldom disagreed with any one but Hennery. They would argue by the - hour, on religious matters, always beginning with Hennery's challenge: - “Ben Grevis, tell me just one thing if you can, <i>where</i> did Cain get - his wife?” and always ending with Ben's statement: “I believe the Book - from kiver to kiver.” - </p> - <p> - The tall man with the educated skin—it was educated, very evidently, - for with a contraction of the hide on the back of his hand he nonchalantly - picked up a shaving that had blown his way—spoke to Ben and Hennery - in the soft and mild accents that seemed habitual to him: - </p> - <p> - “Where did you two see sadder-lookin' fellers than I be?” - </p> - <p> - “Over in Indianny,” said Hennery, “there's a man so sad that you're one of - these here laughin' jackasses 'longside o' him.” - </p> - <p> - And, being encouraged, Hennery proceeded. - </p> - <p> - This here feller (said Hennery McNabb) lived over in Brown County, - Indianny, but he didn't come from there original. He come from down in - Kentucky some-wheres and his name was Peevy, Bud Peevy. He was one of them - long, lank fellers, like you, stranger, but he wasn't as long and his skin - didn't sort o' wander around and wag itself like it was a tail. - </p> - <p> - It was from the mountain districts he come. I was visitin' a brother of - mine in the county-seat town of Brown County then, and this Bud Peevy was - all swelled up with pride when I first knowed him. He was proud of two - things. One was that he was the champeen corn-licker drinker in Kentucky. - It was so he give himself out. And the other thing he was prouder yet of. - It was the fact, if fact it was, that he was the Decidin' Vote in a - national election—that there election you all remember, the first - time Bryan run for President and McKinley was elected. - </p> - <p> - This here Bud Peevy, you understand, wasn't really sad when I first knowed - him: he only <i>looked</i> sad. His sadness that matched his innard - feelin's up to his outward looks come on to him later. He was all-fired - proud when I first knowed him. He went expandin' and extendin' of himself - around everywheres tellin' them Indianny people how it was him, personal, - that elected McKinley and saved the country from that there free-silver - ruination. And the fuller he was of licker, the longer he made this here - story, and the fuller, as you might say, of increditable strange events. - </p> - <p> - Accordin' to him, on that election day in 1896 he hadn't planned to go and - vote, for it was quite a ways to the polls from his place and his horse - had fell lame and he didn't feel like walkin'. He figgered his district - would go safe for McKinley, anyhow, and he wouldn't need to vote. He was a - strong Republican, and when a Kentuckian is a Republican there ain't no - stronger kind. - </p> - <p> - But along about four o'clock in the afternoon a man comes ridin' up to his - house with his horse all a lather of foam and sweat, and the horse was one - of these here Kentucky thoroughbred race horses that must 'a' travelled - nigh a mile a minute, to hear Bud Peevy tell of it, and that horse gives - one groan like a human bein' and falls dead at Bud Peevy's feet afore the - rider can say a word, and the rider is stunned. - </p> - <p> - But Bud Peevy knowed him for a Republican county committeeman, and he - poured some corn licker down his throat and he revived to life again. The - feller yells to Bud as soon as he can get his breath to go to town and - vote, quick, as the polls will close in an hour, and everybody else in - that district has voted but Bud, and everyone has been kep' track of, and - the vote is a tie. - </p> - <p> - It's twelve miles to the pollin' place from Bud's farm in the hills and it - is a rough country, but Bud strikes out runnin' acrost hills and valleys - with three pints of corn licker in his pockets for to refresh himself from - time to time. Bud, he allowed he was the best runner in Kentucky, and he - wouldn't 'a' had any trouble, even if he did have to run acrost mountains - and hurdle rocks, to make the twelve miles in an hour, but there was a lot - of cricks and rivers in that country and there had been a gosh-a-mighty - big rain the night before and all them cricks had turned into rivers and - all them rivers had turned into roarin' oceans and Niagara catarac's. But - Bud, he allows he is the best swimmer in Kentucky, and when he comes to a - stream he takes a swig of corn licker and jumps in and swims acrost, boots - and all—for he was runnin' in his big cowhides, strikin' sparks of - fire from the mountains with every leap he made. - </p> - <p> - Five times he was shot at by Democrats in the first six miles, and in the - seventh mile the shootin' was almost continual, and three or four times he - was hit, but he kep' on. It seems the Democrats had got wind he had been - sent for to turn the tide and a passel of 'em was out among the hills with - rifles to stop him if they could. But he is in too much of a hurry to - bandy words with 'em, and he didn't have his gun along, which he - regretted, he says, as he is the best gun fighter in Kentucky and he keeps - on a-runnin' and a-swimmin' and a-jumpin' cricks and a-hurdlin' rocks with - the bullets whizzin' around him and the lightnin' strikin' in his path, - for another big storm had come up, and no power on this here earth could - head him off, he says, for it come to him like a Voice from on High he was - the preordained messenger and hero who was goin' to turn the tide and save - the country from this here free-silver ruination. About two miles from the - pollin' place, jist as he jumps into the last big river, two men plunges - into the water after him with dirks, and one of them he gets quick, but - the other one drags Bud under the water, stabbin' and jabbin' at him. - There is a terrible stabbin' and stickin' battle way down under the water, - which is runnin' so fast that big stones the size of a cow is being rolled - down stream, but Bud he don't mind the stones, and he can swim under water - as well as on top of it, he says, and he's the best knife fighter in - Kentucky, he says, and he soon fixes that feller and swims to shore with - his knife in his teeth, and now he's only got one more mountain to cross. - </p> - <p> - But a kind of hurricane has sprung up and turned into a cyclone in there - among the hills, and as he goes over the top of that last mountain, - lickety-split, in the dark and wind and rain, he blunders into a whole - passel of rattlesnakes that has got excited by the elements. But he fit - his way through 'em, thankin' God he had nearly a quart of licker left to - take for the eight or ten bites he got, and next there rose up in front of - him two of them big brown bears, and they was wild with rage because the - storm had been slingin' boulders at 'em. One of them bears he sticked with - his knife and made short work of, but the other one give him quite a - tussel, Bud says, afore he conquered it and straddled it. And it was a - lucky thing for him, he says, that he caught that bear in time, for he was - gittin' a leetle weak with loss of blood and snake bites and battlin' with - the elements. Bud, he is the best rider in Kentucky, and it wasn't thirty - seconds afore that bear knowed a master was a-ridin' of it, and in five - minutes more Bud, he gallops up to that pollin' place, right through the - heart of the hurricane, whippin' that bear with rattlesnakes to make it go - faster, and he jumps off and cracks his boot heels together and gives a - yell and casts the decidin' vote into the ballot box. He had made it with - nearly ten seconds to spare. - </p> - <p> - Well, accordin' to Bud Peevy that there one vote carries the day for - McKinley in that county and not only in that county alone, but in that - electorial district, and that electorial district gives McKinley the State - of Kentucky, which no Republican had ever carried Kentucky for President - for afore. And two or three other States was hangin' back keepin' their - polls open late to see how Kentucky would go, and when it was flashed by - telegraph all over the country that Bud Peevy was carryin' Kentucky for - McKinley, them other States joined in with Kentucky and cast their - electorial votes that-a-way, too, and McKinley was elected President. - </p> - <p> - So Bud figgers he has jist naturally elected that man President and saved - the country—he is the one that was the Decidin' Vote for this whole - derned republic. And, as I said, he loves to tell about it. It was in 1896 - that Bud saved the country and it was in 1900 that he moved to Brown - County, Indianny, and started in with his oratin' about what a great man - he was, and givin' his political opinions about this, that and the other - thing, like he might 'a' been President himself. Bein' the Decidin' Vote - that-a-way made him think he jist about run this country with his ideas. - </p> - <p> - He's been hangin' around the streets in his new home, the county town of - Brown County, for five or six weeks, in the summer of 1900, tellin' what a - great feller he is, and bein' admired by everybody, when one day the news - comes that the U. S. Census for 1900 has been pretty nigh finished, and - that the Centre of Population for the whole country falls in Brown County. - Well, you can understand that's calculated to make folks in that county - pretty darned proud. - </p> - <p> - But the proudest of them all was a feller by the name of Ezekiel - Humphreys. It seems these here government sharks had it figgered out that - the centre of population fell right on to where this here Zeke Humphrey's - farm was, four or five miles out of town. - </p> - <p> - And Zeke, he figgers that he, himself, personal, has become the Centre of - Population. - </p> - <p> - Zeke hadn't never been an ambitious man. He hadn't never gone out and - courted any glory like that, nor schemed for it nor thought of it. But he - was a feller that thought well enough of himself, too. He had been a - steady, hard-workin' kind of man all his life, mindin' his own business - and payin' his debts, and when this here glory comes to him, bein' chose - out of ninety millions of people, as you might say, to be the one and only - Centre of Population, he took it as his just due and was proud of it. - </p> - <p> - “You see how the office seeks the man, if the man is worthy of it!” says - Zeke. And everybody liked Zeke that knowed him, and was glad of his glory. - </p> - <p> - Well, one day this here Decidin' Vote, Bud Peevy, comes to town to fill - himself up on licker and tell how he saved the country, and he is - surprised because he don't get nobody to listen to him. And pretty soon he - sees the reason for it. There's a crowd of people on Main Street all - gathered around Zeke Humphreys and all congratulatin' him on being the - Centre of Population. And they was askin' his opinion on politics and - things. Zeke is takin' it modest and sensible, but like a man that knowed - he deserved it, too. Bud Peevy, he listens for a while, and he sniffs and - snorts, but nobody pays any 'tention to him. Finally, he can't keep his - mouth shut any longer, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “Politics! Politics! To hear you talk, a fellow'd think you really got a - claim to talk about politics!” - </p> - <p> - Zeke, he never was any trouble hunter, but he never run away from it, - neither. - </p> - <p> - “Mebby,” says Zeke, not het up any, but right serious and determined-like, - “mebby you got more claim to talk about politics than I have?” - </p> - <p> - “I shore have,” says Bud Peevy. “I reckon I got more claim to be hearkened - to about politics than any other man in this here whole country. I'm the - Decidin' Vote of this here country, I am!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, gosh-ding my melts!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You ain't proud of - yourself, nor nothin', are you?” - </p> - <p> - “No prouder nor what I got a right to be,” says Bud Peevy, “considerin' - what I done.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, you be!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You been proudin' yourself around - here for weeks now all on account o' that decidin' vote business. And <i>anybody</i> - might 'a' been a Decidin' Vote. A Decidin' Vote don't amount to nothin' - 'longside a Centre of Population.” - </p> - <p> - “Where would your derned population be if I hadn't went and saved this - here country for 'em?” asks Bud Peevy. - </p> - <p> - “Be?” says Zeke. “They'd be right where they be now, if you'd never been - born nor heard tell on, that's where they'd be. And I'd be the centre of - 'em, jist like I be now!” - </p> - <p> - “And what <i>air</i> you now?” says Bud Peevy, mighty mean and - insultin'-like. “You ain't nothin' but a accident, you ain't! What I got, - I fit for and I earnt. But you ain't nothin' but a happenin'!” - </p> - <p> - Them seemed like mighty harsh words to Zeke, for he figgered his glory was - due to him on account of the uprighteous life he always led, and so he - says: - </p> - <p> - “Mister, anybody that says I ain't nothin' but a happenin' is a liar.” - </p> - <p> - “1 kin lick my weight in rattlesnakes,” yells Bud Peevy, “and I've done it - afore this! And I tells you once again, and flings it in your face, that - you ain't nothin' but a accidental happenin'!” - </p> - <p> - “You're a liar, then!” says Zeke. - </p> - <p> - With that Bud Peevy jerks his coat off and spits on to his hands. - </p> - <p> - “Set yo'self, man,” says he; “the whirlwind's cornin'!” And he makes a - rush at Zeke. Bud is a good deal taller'n Zeke, but Zeke is sort o' - bricky-red and chunky like a Dutch Reformed Church, and when this here - Peevy comes on to him with a jump Zeke busts him one right on to the eye. - It makes an uncheerful noise like 1 heard one time when Dan Lively, the - butcher acrost the street there, hit a steer in the head with a sledge - hammer. Bud, he sets down sudden, and looks surprised out of the eye that - hadn't went to war yet. But he must 'a' figgered it was a accident for he - don't set there long. He jumps up and rushes again. - </p> - <p> - “I'm a wildcat! I'm a wildcat!” yells this here Bud. And Zeke, he - collisions his fist with the other eye, and Bud sets down the second time. - I won't say this here Zeke's hands was as big as a quarter of beef. The - fact is, they wasn't that big. But I seen that fight myself, and there was - somethin' about the size and shape of his fist when it was doubled up that - kind o' <i>reminded</i> me of a quarter of beef. Only his fists was harder - than a quarter of beef. I guess Zeke's fists was about as hard as a - hickory log that has been gettin' itself soaked and dried and seasoned for - two or three years. I heard a story about Zeke and a mule that kicked him - one time, but I didn't see it myself and I dunno' as it's all true. The - word was that Zeke jist picked up that mule after it kicked him and - frowned at it and told it if it ever done that again he would jist - naturally pull off the leg that it kicked him with and turn it loose to - hop away on three legs, and he cuffed that mule thorough and thoughtful - and then he took it by one hind leg and fore leg and jounced it against a - stone barn and told it to behave its fool self. It always seemed to me - that story had been stretched a mite, but that was one of the stories they - telled on Zeke. - </p> - <p> - But this here Bud Peevy is game. He jumps up again with his two eyes - lookin' like a skillet full of tripe and onions and makes another rush at - Zeke. And this time he gets his hands on to Zeke and they rastles back and - forth. But Bud, while he is a strong fellow, he ain't no ways as strong as - a mule even if he is jist as sudden and wicked, so Zeke throws him down - two or three times. Bud, he kicks Zeke right vicious and spiteful into the - stomach, and when he done that Zeke began to get a little cross. So he - throwed Bud down again and this time he set on top of him. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” says Zeke, bangin' Bud's head on to the sidewalk, “am I a - happenin', or am I on purpose?” - </p> - <p> - “Lemme up,” says Bud. “Leggo my whiskers and lemme up! You ain't licked me - any, but them ol' wounds I got savin' this country is goin' to bust open - ag'in. I kin feel 'em bustin'.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't start this,” says Zeke, “but I'm a-goin' to finish it. Now, - then, am I a accident, or was I meant?” - </p> - <p> - “It's a accident you ever got me down,” says Bud, “Whether you are a - accident yourself or not.” - </p> - <p> - Zeke jounces his head on the sidewalk some more and he says: “You answer - better nor that! You go further! You tell me whether I'm on purpose or - not!” - </p> - <p> - “You was meant for somethin',” says Bud, “but you can't make me say what! - You can bang my head off and I won't say what. Two or three of them - bullets went into my neck right where you're bendin' it and I feel them - ol' wounds bustin' open.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe you got no ol' wounds,” says Zeke, “and I don't believe - you ever saved no country and I'm gonna keep you here till I've banged - some sense and politeness into your head.” - </p> - <p> - Bud, he gives a yell and a twist, and bites Zeke's wrist; Zeke slapped him - some, and Bud ketched one of Zeke's fingers into his mouth and nigh bit it - off afore Zeke got it loose. Zeke, he was a patient man and right - thoughtful and judicious, but he had got kind o' cross when Bud kicked him - into the stomach, and now this biting made him a leetle mite crosser. I - cal'ated if Bud wasn't careful he'd get Zeke really riled up pretty soon - and get his fool self hurt. Zeke, he takes Bud by the ears and slams his - head till I thought the boards in that sidewalk was goin' to be busted. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” says Zeke, lettin' up for a minute, “has the Centre of - Population got a right to talk politics, or ain't he? You say he is got a - right, or I mebby will fergit myself and get kind o' rough with you.” - </p> - <p> - “This here country I saved is a free country,” says Bud Peevy, kind o' - sick an' feeble, “and any one that lives in this here country I saved has - got a right to talk politics, I reckon.” - </p> - <p> - Zeke, he took that for an answer and got good-natured and let Bud up. Bud, - he wipes the blood off'n his face and ketches his breath an' gits mean - again right away. - </p> - <p> - “If my constitution hadn't been undermined savin' this here country,” says - Bud, “you never could 'a' got me down like that! And you ain't heard the - end of this argyment yet, neither! I'm a-goin' for my gun, and we'll shoot - it out!” - </p> - <p> - But the townspeople interfered and give Bud to understand he couldn't - bring no guns into a fight, like mebby he would 'a' done in them mountain - regions he was always talkin' about; an' told him if he was to start - gunnin' around they would get up a tar-and-feather party and he would be - the reception committee. They was all on Zeke's side and they'd all got - kind o' tired listenin' to Bud Peevy, anyhow. Zeke was their own hometown - man, and so they backed him. All that glory had come to Brown County and - they wasn't goin' to see it belittled by no feller from another place. - </p> - <p> - Bud Peevy, for two or three weeks, can't understand his glory has left - him, and he goes braggin' around worse than ever. But people only grins - and turns away; nobody will hark to him when he talks. When Bud tries to - tell his story it gets to be quite the thing to look at him and say: - “Lemme up! Leggo my whiskers! Lemme up!”—like he said when Zeke - Humphreys had him down. And so it was he come to be a byword around town. - Kids would yell at him on the street, to plague him, and he would get mad - and chase them kids, and when folks would see him runnin' after the kids - they would yell: “Hey! Hey, Bud Peevy! You could go faster if you was to - ride a bear!” Or else they would yell: “Whip yourself with a rattlesnake, - Bud, and get up some speed!” - </p> - <p> - His glory had been so big and so widespread for so long that when it - finally went, there jist wasn't a darned thing left to him. His heart - busted in his bosom. He wouldn't talk about nothin'. He jist slinked - around. He was most pitiful because he wasn't used to misfortune like some - people. - </p> - <p> - And he couldn't pack up his goods and move away from that place. For he - had come there to live with a married daughter and his son-in-law, and if - he left there he would have to get a steady job working at somethin' and - support himself. And Bud didn't want to risk that. For that wild run he - made the time he saved the country left him strained clean down to the - innards of his constitution, he says, and he wa'n't fit to work. But the - thing that put the finishing touches on to him was when a single daughter - that he had fell into love with Zeke Humphreys, who was a widower, and - married herself to him. His own flesh and blood has disowned him, Bud - says. So he turns sad, and he was the saddest man 1 ever seen. He was - sadder than you look to be, stranger. - </p> - <p> - The stranger with the educated skin breathed a gentle sigh at the - conclusion of Hennery's tale of the Deciding Vote and the Centre of - Population, and then he said: - </p> - <p> - “I don't doubt Bud Peevy was a sad man. But there's sadder things than - what happened to Bud Peevy. There's things that touches the heart closer.” - </p> - <p> - “Stranger,” said Ben Grevis, “you've said it! But Hennery, here, don't - know anything about the heart bein' touched.” - </p> - <p> - Hennery McNabb seemed to enjoy the implication, rather than to resent it. - Ben Grevis continued: - </p> - <p> - “A sadder thing than what happened to Bud Peevy is goin' on a good deal - nearer home than Indianny. - </p> - <p> - “I ain't the kind of a feller that goes running to Indianny and to - Kentucky and all over the known earth for examples of sadness, nor nothin' - else. We got as good a country right here in Illinois as there is on top - of the earth and I'm one that always sticks up for home folks and home - industries. Hennery, here, ain't got any patriotism. And he ain't got any - judgment. He don't know what's in front of him. But right here in our home - county, not five miles from where we are, sets a case of sadness that is - one of the saddest I ever seen or knowed about. - </p> - <p> - “Hennery, here, he don't know how sad it is, for he's got no finer - feelin's. A free thinker like Hennery can't be expected to have no finer - feelin's. And this case is a case of a woman.” - </p> - <p> - “A woman!” sighed the stranger. “If a woman is mixed up with it, it could - have finer feelin's and sadness in it!” And a ripple of melancholy ran - over him from head to foot. - </p> - <p> - This here woman (said Ben Grevis) lives over to Hickory Grove, in the - woods, and everybody for miles around calls her Widder Watson. - </p> - <p> - Widder Watson, she has buried four or five husbands, and you can see her - any day that it ain't rainin' settin' in the door of her little house, - smokin' of her corn-cob pipe, and lookin' at their graves and speculatin' - and wonderin'. I talked with her a good deal from time to time durin' the - last three or four years, and the things she is speculatin' on is life and - death, and them husbands she has buried, and children. But that ain't what - makes her so sad. It's wishin' for somethin' that, it seems like, never - can be, that is makin' her so sad. - </p> - <p> - She has got eighteen or twenty children, Widder Watson has, runnin' around - them woods. Them woods is jist plumb full of her children. You wouldn't - dare for to try to shoot a rabbit anywhere near them woods for fear of - hittin' one. - </p> - <p> - And all them children has got the most beautiful and peculiar names, that - Widder Watson got out of these here drug-store almanacs. She's been a - great reader all her life, Widder Watson has, but all her readin' has been - done in these here almanacs. You know how many different kinds of almanacs - there always are layin' around drug-stores, I guess. Well, every two or - three months Widder Watson goes to town and gets a new bale of them - almanacs and then she sets and reads 'em. She goes to drug-stores in towns - as far as twelve or fifteen miles away to keep herself supplied. - </p> - <p> - She never cared much for readin' novels and story papers, she tells me. - What she wants is somethin' that has got some true information in it, - about the way the sun rises, and the tides in the oceans she has never - saw, and when the eclipses is going to be, and different kinds of diseases - new and old, and receipts for preserves and true stories about how this or - that wonderful remedy come to be discovered. Mebby it was discovered by - the Injuns in this country, or mebby it was discovered by them there - Egyptians in the old country away back in King Pharaoh's time, and mebby - she's got some of the same sort of yarbs and plants right there in her own - woods. Well, Widder Watson, she likes that kind o' readin', and she knows - all about the Seven Wonders of the World, and all the organs and ornaments - inside the human carcass, and the kind o' pains they are likely to have - and all about what will happen to you if the stars says this or that and - how long the Mississippi River is and a lot of them old-time prophecies of - signs and marvels what is to come to pass yet. You know about what the - readin' is in them almanacs, mebby. - </p> - <p> - Widder Watson, she has got a natural likin' for fine words, jist the same - as some has got a gift for hand-paintin' or playin' music or recitin' - pieces of poetry or anything like that. And so it was quite natural, when - her kids come along, she names 'em after the names in her favourite - readin' matter. And she gets so she thinks more of the names of them kids - than of nearly anything else. I ain't sayin' she thinks more of the names - than she does of the kids, but she likes the names right next to the kids. - Every time she had a baby she used to sit and think for weeks and weeks, - so she tells me, for to get a good name for that baby, and select and - select and select out of them almanacs. - </p> - <p> - Her oldest girl, that everybody calls Zody, is named Zodiac by rights. And - then there's Carty, whose real name is Cartilege, and Anthy, whose full - name is Anthrax, and so on. There's Peruna and Epidermis and Epidemic and - Pisces. - </p> - <p> - I dunno as I can remember all them swell names. There's Perry, whose real - name is Perihelion, and there's Whitsuntide and Tonsillitis and Opodeldoc - and a lot more—I never could remember all them kids. - </p> - <p> - And there ain't goin' to be no more on 'em, for the fact of the matter - seems to be that Widder Watson ain't likely to ever get another husband. - It's been about four years since Jim Watson, her last one, died, and was - buried in there amongst the hickory second-growth and hazel bushes, and - since that day there ain't nobody come along that road a-courtin' Widder - Watson. And that's what makes her sad. She can't understand it, never - havin' been without a husband for so long before, and she sets and grieves - and grieves and smokes her corn-cob pipe and speculates and grieves some - more. - </p> - <p> - Now, don't you get no wrong idea about Widder Watson. She ain't so - all-fired crazy about men. It ain't that. That ain't what makes her - grieve. She is sad because she wants another baby to pin a name to. - </p> - <p> - For she has got the most lovely name out of a new almanac for that there - kid that will likely never be born, and she sets there day after day, and - far into the night, lookin' at them graves in the brush, and talkin' to - the clouds and stars, and sayin' that name over and over to herself, and - sighin' and weepin' because that lovely name will be lost and unknown and - wasted forevermore, with no kid to tack it on to. - </p> - <p> - And she hopes and yearns and grieves for another man to marry her and - wonders why none of 'em never does. Well, I can see why they don't. The - truth is, Widder Watson don't fix herself up much any more. She goes - barefooted most of the time in warm weather, and since she got so sad-like - she don't comb her hair much. And them corn-cob pipes of hern ain't none - too savory. But I 'spose she thinks of herself as bein' jist the same way - she was the last time she took the trouble to look into the lookin' glass - and she can't understand it. - </p> - <p> - “Damn the men, Ben,” she says to me, the last time I was by there, “what's - the matter with 'em all? Ain't they got no sense any more? I never had no - trouble ketchin' a man before this! But here I been settin' for three or - four years, with eighty acres of good land acrost the road there, and a - whole passel o' young uns to work it, and no man comes to court me. There - was a feller along here two-three months ago I did have some hopes on. He - come a-palaverin' and a-blarneyin' along, and he stayed to dinner and I - made him some apple dumplin's, and he et an' et and palavered. - </p> - <p> - “But it turned out he was really makin' up to that gal, Zody, of mine. It - made me so darned mad, Ben, I runned him off the place with Jeff Parker's - shotgun that is hangin' in there, and then I took a hickory sprout to that - there Zody and tanned her good, for encouragin' of him. You remember Jeff - Parker, Ben? He was my second. You wasn't thinkin' of gettin' married - ag'in yourself, was you, Ben?” - </p> - <p> - I told her I wasn't. That there eighty acres is good land, and they ain't - no mortgages on it, nor nothin', but the thought of bein' added to that - collection in amongst the hazel brush and hickory sprouts is enough for to - hold a man back. And the Widder Watson, she don't seem to realize she - orter fix herself up a little mite. But I'm sorry for her, jist the same. - There she sets and mourns, sayin' that name over and over to herself, and - a-grievin' and a-hopin', and all the time she knows it ain't much use to - hope. And a sadder sight than you will see over there to Hickory Grove - ain't to be found in the whole of the State of Illinois. - </p> - <p> - “That is a mighty sad picture you have drawed,” said the stranger, when - Ben Grevis had finished, “but I'm a sadder man for a man than that there - woman is for a woman.” - </p> - <p> - He wrinkled all over, he almost grinned, if one could think of him as - grinning, when he mentioned “that there woman.” It was as if he tasted - some ulterior jest, and found it bitter, in connection with “that there - woman.” After a pause, in which he sighed several times, he remarked in - his tired and gentle voice: - </p> - <p> - “There's two kinds of sadness, gentlemen. There is the melancholy sadness - that has been with you for so long that you have got used to it and kind - o' enjoy it in a way. And then there's the kind o' sadness where you go - back on yourself, where you make your own mistakes and fall below your own - standards, and that is a mighty bitter kind of sadness.” - </p> - <p> - He paused again, while the skin wreathed itself into funeral wreaths about - his face, and then he said, impressively: - </p> - <p> - “Both of them kinds of sadness I have known. First I knowed the melancholy - kind, and now I know the bitter kind.” - </p> - <p> - The first sadness that I had lasted for years (said the stranger with the - strange skin). It was of the melancholy kind, tender and sort o' sweet, - and if I had been the right kind of a man I would 'a' stuck to it and kept - it. But I went back on it. I turned my face away from it. And in going - back on it I went back on all them old, sad, sweet memories, like the - songs tell about, that was my better self. And that is what caused the - sadness I am in the midst of now. It's the feelin' that I done wrong in - turnin' away from all them memories that makes me as sad as you see me - to-day. I will first tell you how the first sadness come on to me, and - secondly I will tell you how I got the sadness I am in the midst of now. - </p> - <p> - Gentlemen, mebby you have noticed that my skin is kind o' different from - most people's skin. That is a gift, and there was a time when I made money - off'n that gift. And I got another gift. I'm longer and slimmer than most - persons is. And besides them two gifts, I got a third gift. I can eat - glass, gentlemen, and it don't hurt me none. I can eat glass as natural - and easy as a chicken eats gravel. And them three gifts is my art. - </p> - <p> - I was an artist in a side-show for years, gentlemen, and connected with - one of the biggest circuses in the world. I could have my choice of three - jobs with any show I was with, and there ain't many could say that. I - could be billed as the India Rubber Man, on account of my skin, or I could - be billed as the Living Skeleton, on account of my framework, or I could - be billed as the Glass Eater. And once or twice I was billed as all three. - </p> - <p> - But mostly I didn't bother much with eating glass or being a Living - Skeleton. Mostly I stuck to being an India Rubber Man. It always seemed to - me there was more art in that, more chance to show talent and genius. The - gift that was given to me by Providence I developed and trained till I - could do about as much with my skin as most people can with their fingers. - It takes constant work and practice to develop a skin, even when Nature - has been kind to you like she has to me. - </p> - <p> - For years I went along contented enough, seein' the country and being - admired by young and old, and wondered at and praised for my gift and the - way I had turned it into an art, and never thinkin' much of women nor - matrimony nor nothing of that kind. - </p> - <p> - But when a man's downfall is put off, it is harder when it comes. When I - fell in love I fell good and hard. I fell into love with a pair of Siamese - twins. These here girls was tied together somewheres about the waist line - with a ligament of some kind, and there wasn't no fake about it—they - really was tied. On account of motives of delicacy I never asked 'em much - about that there ligament. The first pair of twins like that who was ever - on exhibition was from Siam, so after that they called all twins of that - kind Siamese twins. But these girls wasn't from none of them outlandish - parts; they was good American girls, born right over in Ohio, and their - names was Jones. Hetty Jones and Netty Jones was their names. - </p> - <p> - Hetty, she was the right-hand twin, and Netty was the left-hand twin. And - you never seen such lookers before in your life, double nor single. They - was exactly alike and they thought alike and they talked alike. Sometimes - when I used to set and talk to 'em I felt sure they was just one woman. If - I could 'a' looked at 'em through one of these here stereoscopes they - would 'a' come together and been one woman, I never had any idea about 'em - bein' two women. - </p> - <p> - Well, I courted 'em, and they was mighty nice to me, both of 'em. I used - to give 'em candy and flowers and little presents and I would set and - admire 'em by the hour. I kept gettin' more and more into love with them. - And I seen they was gettin' to like me, too. - </p> - <p> - So one day I outs with it. - </p> - <p> - “Will you marry me?” says I. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says Hetty. And, “Yes,” says Netty. Both in the same breath! And - then each one looked at the other one, and they both looked at me, and - they says, both together: - </p> - <p> - “Which one of us did you ask?” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” says I, kind o' flustered, “there ain't but one of you, is they? I - look on you as practically one woman.” - </p> - <p> - “The idea!” says Netty. - </p> - <p> - “You orter be ashamed of yourself,” says Hetty. - </p> - <p> - “You didn't think,” says Netty, “that you could marry both of us, did - you?” - </p> - <p> - Well, all I had really thought up to that time was that I was in love with - 'em, and just as much in love with one as with the other, and I popped the - question right out of my heart and sentiments without thinking much one - way or the other. But now I seen there was going to be a difficulty. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “if you want to consider yourself as two people, I suppose - it would be marryin' both of you. But I always thought of you as two - hearts that beat as one. And I don't see no reason why I shouldn't marry - the two of you, if you want to hold out stubborn that you <i>are</i> two.” - </p> - <p> - “For my part,” says Hetty, “I think you are insulting.” - </p> - <p> - “You must choose between us,” says Netty. - </p> - <p> - “I would never,” says Hetty, “consent to any Mormonous goings-on of that - sort.” - </p> - <p> - They still insisted they was two people till finally I kind o' got to see - their side of the argyment. But how was I going to choose between them - when no matter which one I chooses she was tied tight to the other one? - </p> - <p> - We agreed to talk it over with the Fat Lady in that show, who had a good - deal of experience in concerns of the heart and she had been married four - or five times and was now a widder, having accidental killed her last - husband by rolling over on him in her sleep. She says to me: - </p> - <p> - “How happy you could be with either, Skinny, were t'other dear charmer - away!” - </p> - <p> - “This ain't no jokin' matter, Dolly,” I tells her. “We come for serious - advice.” - </p> - <p> - “Skinny, you old fool,” she says, “there's an easy way out of this - difficulty. All you got to do is get a surgeon to cut that ligament and - then take your choice.” - </p> - <p> - “But I ain't really got any choice,” I says, “for I loves 'em both and I - loves 'em equal. And I don't believe in tamperin' with Nature.” - </p> - <p> - “It ain't legal for you to marry both of 'em,” says the Fat Lady. - </p> - <p> - “It ain't moral for me to cut 'em asunder,” I says. - </p> - <p> - I had a feelin' all along that if they was cut asunder trouble of some - kind would follow. But both Hetty and Netty was strong for it. They - refused to see me or have anything to do with me, they sent me word, till - I give up what they called the insultin' idea of marryin' both of 'em. - They set and quarrelled with each other all the time, the Fat Lady told - me, because they was jealous of each other. Bein' where they couldn't get - away from each other even for a minute, that jealousy must have et into - them something unusual. And finally, I knuckled under. I let myself be - overrulled. I seen I would lose both of 'em unless I made a choice. So I - sent 'em word by the Fat Lady that I would choose. But I knowed deep in my - heart all the time that no good would come of it. You can't go against - Scripter and prosper; and the Scripter says: “What God has joined - together, let no man put asunder.” - </p> - <p> - Well, we fixed it up this way: I was to pay for that there operation, - having money saved up for to do it with, and then I was to make my choice - by chance. The Fat Lady says to toss a penny or something. - </p> - <p> - But I always been a kind of a romantic feller, and I says to myself I will - make that choice in some kind of a romantic way. So first I tried one of - these ouija boards, but all I get is “Etty, Etty, Etty,” over and over - again, and whether the ouija left off an H or an N there's no way of - telling. The Fat Lady, she says: “Why don't you count 'em out, like kids - do, to find out who is It?” - </p> - <p> - “How do you mean?” I asks her. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” says she, “by saying, 'Eeny meeny, miney, mo!' or else 'Monkey, - monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys have we here?' or something like - that.” - </p> - <p> - But that ain't romantic enough to suit me and I remember how you pluck a - daisy and say: “She loves me! She loves me not!” And I think I will get an - American beauty rose and do it that way. Well, they had the operation, and - it was a success. And about a week later I'm to go to the hospital and - tell 'em which one has been elected to the holy bonds of matrimony. I gets - me a rose, one of the most expensive that money can buy in the town we was - in, and when I arrive at the hospital I start up the front steps pluckin' - the leaves off and sayin' to myself: “Hetty she is! Netty she is! Hetty - she is!”—and so on. But I never got that rose all plucked. - </p> - <p> - I knowed all along that it was wrong to put asunder what God had joined - together, and I orter stuck to the hunch I had. You can't do anything to a - freak without changing his or her disposition some way. You take a freak - that was born that way and go to operating on him, and if he is - good-natured he'll turn out a grouch, or if he was a grouch he'll turn out - good-natured. I knowed a dog-faced boy one time who was the sunniest - critter you ever seen. But his folks got hold of a lot of money and took - him out of the business and had his features all slicked up and made over, - and what he gained in looks he lost in temper and disposition. Any - tinkering you do around artists of that class will change their sentiments - every time. - </p> - <p> - I never got that rose all plucked. At the top of the steps I was met by - Hetty and Netty, just cornin' out of the hospital and not expectin' to see - me. With one of them was a young doctor that worked in the hospital and - with the other was a patient that had just got well. They explained to me - that as soon as they had that operation their sentiments toward me - changed. Before, they had both loved me. Afterwards, neither one of 'em - did. They was right sorry about it, they said, but they had married these - here fellows that morning in the hospital, with a double wedding, and was - now starting off on their wedding trips, and their husbands would pay back - the operation money as soon as they had earned it and saved it up. - </p> - <p> - Well, I was so flabbergasted that my skin stiffened up on me, and it - stayed stiff for the rest of that day. I never said a word, but I turned - away from there a sad man with a broken heart in my bosom. And I quit - bein' an artist. I didn't have the sperrit to be in a show any more. - </p> - <p> - And through all the years since then I been a saddened man. But as time - went by there come a kind of sweetness into that sadness, too. It is - better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, like the - poet says. I was one of the saddest men in the world, but I sort o' - enjoyed it, after a few years. And all them memories sort o' kept me a - better man. - </p> - <p> - I orter stuck to that kind of sweet sadness. I orter knowed that if I went - back on all them beautiful memories of them girls something bitter would - come to me. - </p> - <p> - But I didn't, gentlemen. I went back on all that sentiment and that - tenderness. I betrayed all them beautiful memories. Five days ago, I went - and married. Yes, sir, I abandoned all that sweet recollection. And I been - livin' in hell ever since. I been reproachin' myself day and night for not - provin' true and trustworthy to all that romantic sadness I had all them - years. It was a sweet sadness, and I wasn't faithful to it. And so long as - I live now I will have this here bitter sadness. - </p> - <p> - The stranger got up and sighed and stretched himself. He took a fresh chew - of tobacco, and began to crank his flivver. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Ben Grevis, “that is a sad story. But I don't know as you're - sadder, at that, than the Widder Watson is.” - </p> - <p> - The stranger spat colourfully into the road, and again the faint semblance - of a smile, a bitter smile, wreathed itself about his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I be!” he said, “I be a sadder person than the Widder Watson. It was - her I married!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f you are a dog of - any sense, you will pick you out a pretty good sort of a boy and stick to - him. These dogs that are always adopting one boy after another get a bad - name among the humans in the end. And you'd better keep in with the - humans, especially the grown-up ones. Getting your scraps off a plate at - the back door two or three times a day beats hunting rabbits and - ground-squirrels for a living. - </p> - <p> - What a dog wants is a boy anywhere from about nine to about sixteen years - old. A boy under nine hasn't enough sense, as a rule, to be any company - for an intelligent dog. And along about sixteen they begin to dress up and - try to run with the girls, and carry on in a 'way to make a dog tired. - There are exceptions of course—one of the worst mistakes some dogs - make is to suppose that all boys are alike. That isn't true; you'll find - just as much individuality among boys as there is among us dogs, if you're - patient enough to look for it and have a knack for making friends with - animals. But you must remember to be kind to a boy if you're going to - teach him anything; and you must be careful not to frighten him. - </p> - <p> - At the same time, you must keep a boy in his place at once. My boy—Freckles - Watson is his name—understands just how far he can go with me. But - some dogs have to give their boys a lesson now and then. Jack Thompson, - who is a fine, big, good-natured dog, has a boy like that. The boy's name - is Squint—Squint Thompson, he is—and he gets a little - overbearing at times. I remember one Saturday afternoon last summer in - particular. There were a lot of us dogs and boys fooling around up at - Clayton's swimming-hole, including some stray boys with no dogs to look - after them, when Squint began to show off by throwing sticks into the - water and making Jack swim in and get 'em. Jack didn't mind that, but - after a while he got pretty tired and flopped down on the grass, and - wouldn't budge. - </p> - <p> - “Grab him by the tail and the scruff of the neck, and pitch him in, - Squint,” says my boy, Freckles. “It's a lot of fun to duck a dog.” - </p> - <p> - Squint went over to where Jack was lying and took hold of the scruff of - Jack's neck. Jack winked at me in his good-natured way, and made a show of - pulling back some, but finally let Squint pitch him into the deepest part - of the swimming-hole. His head went clear under—which is a thing no - dog likes, let alone being picked up that way and tossed about. Every boy - there set up a shout, and when Jack scrambled up the bank, wagging his - tail and shaking the water off himself, the humans all yelled, “Sling him - in again, Squint!” - </p> - <p> - Jack trotted over to where he had a bone planted at the foot of a walnut - tree, and began to dig for it. Squint followed, intending to sling him in - again. I wondered if old Jack would stand for any more of it. Jack didn't; - but before he got that fool boy to give up his idea he had to pretend like - he was actually trying to bite him. He threw a good scare into the whole - bunch of them, and then made out like he'd seen a rabbit off through the - trees, and took after it. Mutt Mulligan and I went with him, and all the - boys followed, naked, and whooping like Indians, except two that stayed - behind to tie knots in shirts. When we three dogs had given the whole - bunch of them the slip, we lay down in the grass and talked. - </p> - <p> - “Some day,” says Jack to me, “I'm afraid I'm really going to have to bite - that Squint boy, Spot.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't do it,” says I, “he's just a fool boy, and he doesn't really mean - anything by it.” - </p> - <p> - “The thing to do,” says Mutt Mulligan, “is to fire him—just turn him - loose without a dog to his name, and pick up another boy somewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “But I don't like to give Squint up,” says Jack, very thoughtful. “I think - it's my duty to stick to him, even if I have to bite him once or twice to - keep him in his place.” - </p> - <p> - “You see,” Jack went on, “I'm really <i>fond</i> of Squint. I've had him - three years now, and I'm making a regular boy of him. He was a kind of a - sissy when I took charge of him. His folks made him wear long yaller - curls, and they kept him in shoes and stockings even in the summer-time, - and they dressed him up in little blouses, and, say, fellows, you'd never - guess what they called him!” - </p> - <p> - “What?” says I. - </p> - <p> - “Percival,” says Jack. “And they wouldn't let him fight. Well, I've seen - him turn into a real boy, a bit it a time, and I think it's up to me to - stick to the job and help with his education. He chews tobacco now,” says - Jack very proudly, “and he can smoke a corncob pipe without getting sick; - and I'll tell you what, Spot, he can lick that Freckles boy of yours to a - frazzle.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” says I, “there's no boy of his age in town that dast to knock a - chip off that Freckles boy's shoulder.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Jack, ignoring my remark, “that Squint has turned into - some kid, believe me! And the first time I saw him he was a sight. It was - about dusk, one summer afternoon three years ago, and he was sitting down - in the grass by the side of the road six or seven miles from town, crying - and talking to himself. I sat down a little way off and listened. He had - run away from home, and I didn't blame him any, either. Besides the curls - and shoes and stockings I have mentioned, there were other persecutions. - He never went fishing, for instance, unless his father took him. He didn't - dast to play marbles for keeps. They wouldn't let him have a Flobert - rifle, nor even a nigger shooter. There were certain kids he wasn't - allowed to play with—they were too common and dirty for him, his - folks said. So he had run off to go with a circus. He had hacked off his - Fauntleroy curls before he started only he hadn't got 'em very even; but - he had forgot to inquire which way to go to find a circus. He'd walked and - walked, and the nearest thing to a circus he had found was a gipsy outfit, - and he had got scared of an old man with brass rings in his ears, and run, - and run, and run. He'd slung his shoes and stockings away when he started - because he hated 'em so, and now he had a stone bruise, and he was lost - besides. And it was getting dark. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I felt sorry for that boy. I sat there and watched him, and the - idea came to me that it would be a Christian act to adopt him. He wasn't a - sissy at heart—he had good stuff in him, or he wouldn't have run - away. Besides, I wanted a change; I'd been working for a farmer, and I was - pretty sick of that.” - </p> - <p> - “It's no life for a dog with any sporting instinct,” I said, “farm life - isn't. I've tried it. They keep you so infernally busy with their cows and - sheep and things; and I knew one farm dog that had to churn twice a week. - They stuck him in a treadmill and made him.” - </p> - <p> - “A farm's no worse than living in a city,” said Mutt Mulligan. “A city dog - ain't a real dog; he's either an outcast under suspicion of the police, or - a mama's pet with ribbons tied around his neck.” - </p> - <p> - “You can't tell me,” says Jack. “I know. A country town with plenty of - boys in it, and a creek or river near by, is the only place for a dog. - Well, as I was saying, I felt sorry for Percival, and we made friends. - Pretty soon a man that knew him came by in a buggy, going to town. He was - a doctor, and he stopped and asked Percival if he wasn't pretty far from - home. Percival told him he'd left home for good and for all; but he - sniffled when he said it, and the doctor put him into his buggy and drove - him to town. I drilled along behind. It had been dark quite a while when - we got home, and Percival's folks were scared half to death. His mother - had some extra hysterics when she saw his hair. - </p> - <p> - “'Where on earth did you get that ornery-looking yellow mongrel?' says - Percival's father when he caught sight of me. - </p> - <p> - “'That's my dog,' says Percival. 'I'm going to keep him.' - </p> - <p> - “'I won't have him around,' says his mother. - </p> - <p> - “But Percival spunked up and said he'd keep me, and he'd get his hair - shingled tight to his head, or else the next time he ran away he'd make a - go of it. He got a licking for that remark, but they were so glad to get - him back they let him keep me. And from that time on Percival began to get - some independence about him. He ain't Percival now; he's Squint.” - </p> - <p> - It's true that a dog can help a lot in a boy's education. And I'm proud of - what I've done for Freckles. I will always remember 'one awful time I had - with him, though. I didn't think he'd ever pull through it. All of a - sudden he got melancholy—out of sorts and dreamy. I couldn't figure - out what was the matter with him at first. But I watched him close, and - finally I found out he was in love. He was feeling the disgrace of being - in love pretty hard, too; but he was trying not to show it. The worst part - of it was, he was in love with his school-teacher. She was a Miss Jones, - and an old woman—twenty-two or twenty-three years old, she was. - </p> - <p> - Squint and Freckles had a fight over it when Squint found out. Squint came - over to our place one night after supper and whistled Freckles out. He? - says: - </p> - <p> - “Say, Freckles, I seen you put an apple on Miss Jones's desk this - morning.” - </p> - <p> - “You're a liar,” says Freckles, “and you dastn't back it.” - </p> - <p> - “I dast,” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “Dastn't,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Dast,” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “Back it then,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, you're another,” says Squint. Which backed it. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles, he put a piece of wood on to his shoulder, and said: - </p> - <p> - “You don't dast to knock that chip off.” - </p> - <p> - “I dast,” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “You dastn't,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - Squint made a little push at it. Freckles dodged, and it fell off. - “There,” says Squint, “I knocked it off.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn't; it fell off.” - </p> - <p> - “Did.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn't neither.” - </p> - <p> - “Did teether. Just put it on again, and see if I don't dast to knock it - off.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't have to put it on again, and you ain't big enough to make me do - it,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I can too make you.” - </p> - <p> - “Can't.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, you can't run any sandy over me!” - </p> - <p> - “I'll show you whether I can or not!” - </p> - <p> - “Come on, then, over back of the Baptist Church, and show me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I won't fight in a graveyard.” - </p> - <p> - “Yah! Yah! Yah!—'fraid of a graveyard at night! Fraid-cat! - Fraid-cat! Fraid-cat!” - </p> - <p> - There isn't any kid will stand for that, so they went over to the - graveyard back of the Baptist Church. It was getting pretty dark, too. I - followed them, and sat down on a grave beside a tombstone to watch the - fight. I guess they were pretty much scared of that graveyard, both of - those boys; but us dogs had dug around there too much, making holes after - gophers, and moles, and snakes for me to mind it any. They hadn't hit each - other more than half a dozen times, those boys, when a flea got hold of me - right in the middle of my back, up toward my neck—the place I never - can reach, no matter how hard I dig and squirm. It wasn't one of my own - fleas, by the way it bit; it must have been a tramp flea that had been - starved for weeks. It had maybe come out there with a funeral a long time - before and got lost off of someone, and gone without food ever since; and - while I was rolling around and twisting, and trying to get at it, I bumped - against that tombstone with my whole weight. It was an old slab, and - loose, and it fell right over in the grass with a thud. The boys didn't - know I was there, and when the tombstone fell and I jumped, they thought - ghosts were after them, though I never heard of a ghost biting anybody - yet. It was all I could do to keep up with those boys for the next five - minutes, and I can run down a rabbit. When they stopped, they were half a - mile away, on the schoolhouse steps, hanging on to each other for comfort. - But, after a while they got over their scare, and Squint said: - </p> - <p> - “There ain't any use in you denying that apple, Freckles; two others, - besides me, not counting a girl, saw you put it there.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Freckles, “it's nobody's business.” - </p> - <p> - “But what I can't make out,” says Squint, “is what became of the red - pepper. We knew you wasn't the kind of a softy that would bring apples to - teacher unless they was loaded with cayenne pepper, or something like - that. So we waited around after school to see what would happen when she - bit into it. But she just set at her desk and eat it all up, and slung the - core in the stove, and nothing happened.” - </p> - <p> - “That's funny,” says Freckles. And he didn't say anything more. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” says Squint, “I don't believe you put any red pepper into that - apple.” - </p> - <p> - “I did,” says Freckles. “You're a liar!” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Squint, “what become of it, then?” - </p> - <p> - “That's none of your business, what become of it,” says Freckles. “What's - it to you what become of it? How do I know what become of it?” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” says Squint, “I believe you're stuck on teacher.” - </p> - <p> - “You're a liar!” yells Freckles. And this time he was so mad he hit Squint - without further words. They had a beauty of a fight, but finally Freckles - got Squint down on the gravel path, and bumped his head up and down in the - gravel. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” says he, “did you see any apple?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says Squint, “I didn't see any apple.” - </p> - <p> - “If you had seen one, would there have been pepper in it?” - </p> - <p> - “There would have been—le'me up, Freckles.” - </p> - <p> - “Am I stuck on teacher?” - </p> - <p> - “You ain't stuck on anybody—ouch, Freckles, le'me up!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles let him up, and then started back toward home, walking on - different sides of the street. About half-way home Freckles crossed the - street, and said: “Squint, if I tell you something, you won't tell?” - </p> - <p> - “1 ain't any snitch, Freckles, and you know it.” - </p> - <p> - “You won't even tell the rest of the Dalton Gang?” - </p> - <p> - “Nope.” - </p> - <p> - “Cross your heart and hope to die?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, set down on the grass here, and I'll tell you.” They set down, and - Freckles says: - </p> - <p> - “Honest, Squint, it's true—I did take her that apple this morning, - and I'm stuck on her, and there wasn't any pepper in it.” - </p> - <p> - “Gee, Freckles!” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - Freckles only drew in a deep breath. - </p> - <p> - “I'm awful sorry for you, Freckles,” says Squint, “honest, I am.” - </p> - <p> - “You always been a good pal, Squint,” says Freckles. “Ain't there anything - can be done about it?” - </p> - <p> - “Nope,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “The Dalton Gang could make things so hot for her she'd have to give up - school,” says Squint, very hopeful. “If you didn't see her any more, you'd - maybe get over it, Freckles.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Squint, I don't want her run out.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't <i>want</i> her run out! Say, Freckles, you don't mean to say you - <i>like</i> being in love with her?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Freckles, “if I did like it, that would be a good deal of - disgrace, wouldn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Gosh darn her!” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Squint,” says Freckles, “if you call me a softy, I'll lick you - again; but honest, I do kind of like it.” And after that disgrace there - wasn't anything more either of them could say. And that disgrace ate into - him more and more; it changed him something awful. It took away all his - spirit by degrees. He got to be a different boy—sort of mooned - around and looked foolish. And he'd blush and giggle if any one said - “Hello” to him. I noticed the first bad sign one Saturday when his father - told him he couldn't go swimming until after he had gone over the whole - patch and picked the bugs off of all the potatoes. He didn't kick nor play - sick; he didn't run away; he stayed at home and bugged those potatoes; he - bugged them very hard and savage; he didn't do two rows, as usual, and - then sneak off through the orchard with me—<i>no, sir, he hugged 'em - all!</i> I lay down at the edge of the patch and watched him, and thought - of old times, and the other dogs and boys down at the creek, or maybe - drowning out gophers, or getting chased by Cy Smith's bull, or fighting - out a bumblebee's nest and putting mud on the stung places, and it all - made me fell mighty sad and downcast. Next day was Sunday, and they told - him he'd get a licking if he chased off after Sunday-school and played - baseball out to the fair-grounds—and he didn't; he came straight - home, without even stopping back of the livery-stable to watch the men - pitch horseshoes. And next day was Monday, and he washed his neck without - being told, and he was on time at school, and he got his grammar lesson. - And worse than that before the day was over, for at recess-time the - members of the Dalton Gang smoked a Pittsburgh stogie, turn and turn - about, out behind the coal-house. Freckles rightly owned a fifth interest - in that stogie, but he gave his turns away without a single puff. Some of - us dogs always hung around the school-yard at recess-times, and I saw that - myself, and it made me feel right bad; it wasn't natural. And that night - he went straight home from school, and he milked the cow and split the - kindling wood without making a kick, and he washed his feet before he went - to bed without being made to. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, it wasn't natural. And he felt his disgrace worse and worse, and - lost his interest in life more and more as the days went by. One afternoon - when I couldn't get him interested in pretending I was going to chew up - old Bill Patterson, I knew there wasn't anything would take him out of - himself. Bill was the town drunkard, and all of us dogs used to run and - bark at him when there were any humans looking on. I never knew how we got - started at it, but it was the fashion. We didn't have anything against old - Bill either, but we let on like we thought he was a tough character; that - is, if any one was looking at us. If we ever met old Bill toward the edge - of town, where no one could see us, we were always friendly enough with - him, too. Bill liked dogs, and used to be always trying to pet us, and - knew just the places where a dog liked to be scratched, but there wasn't a - dog in town would be seen making up to him. We'd let him think maybe we - were going to be friendly, and smell and sniff around him in an - encouraging sort of a way, like we thought maybe he was an acquaintance of - ours, and then old Bill would get real proud and try to pat our heads, and - say: 'The <i>dogs</i> all know old Bill, all right—yes, sir! <i>They</i> - know who's got a good heart and who ain't. May be an outcast, but the <i>dogs</i> - know—yes, sir!” And when he said that we'd growl and back off, and - circle around him, and bristle our backs up, and act like we'd finally - found the man that robbed our family's chicken-house last week, and run in - and snap at Bill's legs. Then all the boys and other humans around would - laugh. I reckon it was kind of mean and hypocritical in us dogs, too; but - you've got to keep the humans jollied up, and the coarsest kind of jokes - is the only kind they seem to appreciate. But even when I put old Bill - through his paces, that Freckles boy didn't cheer up any. - </p> - <p> - The worst of it was that Miss Jones had made up her mind to marry the - Baptist minister, and it was only a question of time before she'd get him. - Every dog and human in our town knew that. Folks used to talk it over at - every meal, or out on the front porches in the evenings, and wonder how - much longer he would hold out. And Freckles used to listen to them - talking, and then sneak off alone and sit down with his chin in his hands - and study it all out. The Dalton Gang—Squint had told the rest of - them, each promising not to tell—was right sympathetic at first. - They offered to burn the preacher's house down if that would do any good. - But Freckles said no, leave the preacher alone. It wasn't <i>his</i> fault—everyone - knew <i>he</i> wouldn't marry Miss Jones if she let him alone. Then the - Daltons said they'd kidnap the teacher if he said the word. But Freckles - said no, that would cause a lot of talk; and, besides, a grown woman eats - an awful lot; and what would they feed her on? Finally Tom Mulligan—he - was Mutt Mulligan's boy—says: - </p> - <p> - “What you got to do, Freckles, is make some kind of a noble sacrifice. - That's the way they always do in these here Lakeside Library books. - Something that will touch her heart.” - </p> - <p> - And they all agree her heart has got to be touched. But how? - </p> - <p> - “Maybe,” says Squint, “it would touch her heart if the Dalton Gang was to - march in in a body and offer to reform.” - </p> - <p> - But Tom Mulligan says he wouldn't go <i>that</i> far for any one. And - after about a week the Dalton Gang lost its sympathy and commenced to guy - Freckles and poke fun at him. And then there were fights—two or - three every day. But gradually it got so that Freckles didn't seem to take - any comfort or joy in a fight, and he lost spirits more and more. And - pretty soon he began to get easy to lick. He got so awful easy to lick the - Daltons got tired of licking him, and quit fighting him entirely. And then - the worst happened. One day they served him notice that until he got his - nerve back and fell out of love with Miss Jones again, he would not be - considered a member of the Dalton Gang. But even that didn't jar him any—Freckles - was plumb ruined. - </p> - <p> - One day I heard the humans talking it over that the preacher had give in - at last. Miss Jones's pa, and her uncle too, were both big church members, - and he never really had a chance from the first. It was in the paper, the - humans said, that they were engaged, and were to be married when school - was out. Freckles, he poked away from the porch where the family was - sitting when he heard that, and went to the barn and lay down on a pile of - hay. I sat outside the barn, and I could hear him in there choking back - what he was feeling. It made me feel right sore, too, and when the moon - came up I couldn't keep from howling at it; for here was one of the finest - kids you ever saw in there bellering like a girl, and all because of a - no-account woman—a grown-up woman, mind you! I went in and lay down - on the hay beside him, and licked his face, and nuzzled my head up under - his armpit, to show him I'd stand by him anyhow. Pretty soon he went to - sleep there, and after a long while his father came out and picked him up - and carried him into the house to bed. He never waked up. - </p> - <p> - The next day I happened by the schoolhouse along about recess-time. The - boys were playing prisoner's base, and I'm pretty good at that game - myself, so I joined in. When the bell rang, I slipped into Freckles's room - behind the scholars, thinking I'd like a look at that Miss Jones myself. - Well, she wasn't anything Yd go crazy over. When she saw me, there was the - deuce to pay. - </p> - <p> - “Whose dog is that?” she sings out. - </p> - <p> - “Please, ma'am,” squeals a little girl, “that is Harold Watson's dog, - Spot.” - </p> - <p> - “Harold Watson,” says she to Freckles, “don't you know it's strictly - against the rules to bring dogs to school?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes'm,” says Freckles, getting red in the face. - </p> - <p> - “Then why did you do it?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't, ma'am,” says he. “He's just come visitin' like.” - </p> - <p> - “Harold,” says she, “don't be impudent. Step forward.” - </p> - <p> - He stepped toward her desk, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He - jerked away from her, and she grabbed him by the collar. No dog likes to - see a grown-up use his boy rough, so I moved a little nearer and growled - at her. - </p> - <p> - “Answer me,” she says, “why did you allow this beast to come into the - schoolroom?” - </p> - <p> - “Spot ain't a beast,” says Freckles. “He's my dog.” She stepped to the - stove and picked up a poker, and come toward me. I dodged, and ran to the - other side of her desk, and all the scholars laughed. That made her mad, - and she made a swipe at me with that poker, and she was so sudden that she - caught me right in the ribs, and I let out a yelp and ran over behind - Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “You can't hit my dog like that!” yelled Freckles, mad as a hornet. “No - teacher that ever lived could lick my dog!” And he burst out crying, and - ran out of the room, with me after him. - </p> - <p> - “I'm done with you,” he sings out from the hall. “Marry your old preacher - if you want to.” - </p> - <p> - And then we went out into the middle of the road, and he slung stones at - the schoolhouse, and yelled names, till the principal came out and chased - us away. - </p> - <p> - But I was glad, because I saw he was cured. A boy that is anything will - stick up for his dog, and a dog will stick up for his boy. We went - swimming, and then we went back as near the schoolhouse as we dast to. - When school let out, Freckles licked the whole Dalton Gang, one at a time, - and made each say, before he let him up: “Freckles Watson was never stuck - on anybody; and if he was, he is cured.” - </p> - <p> - They all said it, and then held a meeting; and he was elected president. - </p> - <p> - And me!—I felt so good I went down-town and picked a fuss with a - butcher's dog that wore a spiked collar. I had always felt a little scared - of that dog before, but that night I just naturally chewed him to a - frazzle. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - BILL PATTERSON - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his town,” says - Squint, quiet, but determined, “has got to be made an example of. It has - got to learn that it can't laugh at the Dalton Gang and go unscathed. - Freckled Watson of Dead Man's Gulch,” says he to me, “speak up! What form - shall the punishment take?” - </p> - <p> - “Blood,” says I. - </p> - <p> - “Two-Gun Tom of Texas,” says he to Tom Mulligan, “speak!” - </p> - <p> - “Death!” says Tom. - </p> - <p> - “Arizona Pete, speak!” - </p> - <p> - “Blood and Death,” says Pete Wilson, making his voice deep. - </p> - <p> - “Broncho Bob?” - </p> - <p> - “Blood, death, and fire!” says Bob Jones. - </p> - <p> - There was a solemn pause for a minute, and then I says, according to rule - and regulation: - </p> - <p> - “And what says Dead-Shot Squint, the Terror of the Plains?” - </p> - <p> - He was very serious while one might have counted ten breaths, and then he - pulled his jack-knife from his pocket and whet it on the palm of his hand, - and tried its point on his thumb, and replied: - </p> - <p> - “He says death, and seals it with a vow!” - </p> - <p> - That vow was a mighty solemn thing, and we always felt it so. It wasn't - the kind of a thing you would ever let small kids or girls know about. - First you all sat down in a circle, with your feet together, and rolled up - the sleeve of your left arm. Then the knife was passed around, and each - drew blood out of his left arm. Then each one got as much blood out of the - next fellow's arm as he could, in his mouth, and all swallowed - simultaneous, to show you were going into the thing to the death and no - turning back. Next we signed our names in a ring, using blood mixed with - gunpowder. But not on paper, mind you. We signed 'em on parchment. First - and last, that parchment was a good deal of trouble. If you think skinning - a squirrel or a rat to get his hide for parchment is an easy trick, just - try it. Let alone catching them being no snap. But Squint, he was Captain, - and he was stern on parchment, for it makes an oath more legal, and all - the old-time outlaws wouldn't look at anything else. But we got a pretty - good supply ahead by saving all the dead cats and things like that we - could find, and unless you know likely places to look it would surprise - you how many dead cats there are in the world. - </p> - <p> - We were in the Horse Thieves' Cave, about a mile from town. It had really - been used for that, way back before the war. There was a gang pretended to - be honest settlers like everybody else. But they used to steal horses and - hide them out in there. When they had a dozen or so of them they'd take - 'em over to the Mississippi River, which was about thirty miles west, some - night, and raft 'em down stream and sell 'em at Cairo or St. Louis. That - went on for years, but along in the fifties, my grandfather said, when <i>he</i> - was a kid, a couple was hung, and the remainder got across the river and - went west. The cave was up on the side of a hill in the woods, and - forgotten about except by a few old-timers. The door-beams had rotted and - fallen down, and the sand and dirt had slid down over the mouth of it, and - vines and bushes grown up. No one would have guessed there was any cave - there at all. But the dogs got to digging around there one afternoon when - the Dalton Gang was meeting in the woods, and uncovered part of those door - beams. We dug some more and opened her up. It took a lot of work to clean - her out, but she was as good as new when we got done with her. We never - told any one, and the vines and bushes were so thick you could hunt a year - and never find the opening. It isn't every bunch of kids get a real Horse - Thieves' Cave ready-made like that, right from the hands of Providence, as - you might say. Pete Wilson used to brag and say his grand-dad was one of - those horse-thieves. It made the rest of us feel kind of meek for a time, - because none of us could claim any honour or grandeur like that in our - families. But my grand-dad, who has a terrible long memory about the early - days, said it wasn't so; so far as he could recollect Pete's grand-dad - never had any ambition above shoats and chickens. - </p> - <p> - Well, I was telling you about that oath. We were taking it because - Squint's father, who was mayor, had run on to one of those parchments - (which Squint ought never to have taken away from the cave), and had asked - a lot of fool questions about it. Then he threw back his head and laughed - at the Dalton Gang. It made our blood boil. Hence, our plans for revenge. - </p> - <p> - “The time has come,” said Squint, “for a bold stroke. Yonder proud city - laughs. But he laughs best who laughs last. And ere another sun has set——” - </p> - <p> - “The last time we took the blood oath,” interrupts Bob Jones, “we didn't - do anything more important than steal the ice cream from the Methodist - lawn sociable.” - </p> - <p> - “There must be no failure,” says Squint, not heeding him, and he jabbed - the knife into the ground and gritted his teeth. You could see how the - memory of being laughed at was rankling through his veins. - </p> - <p> - “But, Squint,” says Tom Mulligan, looking quite a bit worried, “you don't - <i>really</i> mean to kill any one, do you?” - </p> - <p> - Squint only says, very haughty: “The blood oath has been sworn. Is there a - traitor here?” He was always a great one for holding us to it, Squint was, - unless what he called an Honourable Compromise came into sight. And we all - got mighty uncomfortable and gloomy trying to think of some Honourable - Compromise. It was to me that the great idea came, all of a sudden. - </p> - <p> - “Squint,” I says, “the thing to do is to kidnap some prominent citizen and - hold him for ransom.” - </p> - <p> - Squint brightened up and said to wring gold from the coffers of yonder - proud city would be even more satisfaction than blood. The next question - was: Who will we kidnap? - </p> - <p> - “I suggest the mayor of yonder town!” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “Gee—your dad, Squint?” says Tom Mulligan. - </p> - <p> - “I offer him as a sacrifice,” says Squint, very majestically. No one could - do any more, and we all felt Squint's dad had deserved it. But the idea - was so big it kind of scared us, too. But while the rest of us were - admiring Squint, Bob Jones got jealous and offered <i>his</i> father. Then - we all offered our fathers, except Tom Mulligan, who didn't have anything - better to offer than a pair of spinster aunts. There was a general row - over whose father was the most prominent citizen. But finally we decided - to bar all relatives and kinsfolk, in order to prevent jealousy, even to - the distant cousins. But it isn't a very big town, and it would surprise - you how many people are related to each other there. Finally Bill - Patterson was voted to be the Honourable Compromise, being known as the - town drunkard, and not related to anybody who would own up to it. - </p> - <p> - It figured out easy enough. All we had to do was to wait until Sunday - night, and take Bill out of the lockup. Every Saturday afternoon regular - Si Emery, who was the city marshal, arrested Bill for being drunk on Main - Street, and Bill was kept in jail until Monday morning. Si was getting - pretty old and feeble and shaky, and of late years the town council never - let him have the lock-up key until just an hour or so before it was time - to arrest Bill on Saturdays. Because one time Si had forgot to feed and - water a tramp in there for about a week, and the tramp took sick after a - while, and he was dead when Si remembered about him, and had to be buried - at the town's expense. And several times some tough customers had taken - the keys away from Si and broken into the place and played cards and cut - up in there scandalous for half the night. So it was thought best Si - shouldn't carry the keys, nor the handcuffs which belonged to the town. - After he had locked Bill up on Saturday evenings Si would take the keys to - the mayor's house, and get them again on Monday morning to let Bill out. - </p> - <p> - So the next Sunday night when the hired girl wasn't looking, Squint - sneaked the keys and the town handcuffs out of the drawer in the kitchen - table where the knives and forks were kept. He slipped upstairs to bed, - and no one noticed. About ten o'clock he dressed again, and got out the - back window, and down the lightning rod; and at the same hour us other - Daltons were doing much the same. - </p> - <p> - We met behind the lockup, and put on the masks we had made. They had hair - on the bottoms of them to look like beards sticking out. - </p> - <p> - “Who's got the dark-lantern?” Squint asks, in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “M-m-me,” answered Pete Wilson, stuttering. I was so excited myself I was - biting my coat-sleeve so my teeth wouldn't chatter. And Bob Jones was - clicking the trigger of the cavalry pistol his uncle carried in the war, - and couldn't stop, like a girl can't stop laughing when she gets - hysterics. The cylinder was gone and it couldn't be loaded or he would - have killed himself, for he turned it up and looked right into the muzzle - and kept clicking when Squint asked him what the matter was. Pete shook so - he couldn't light the lantern; but Squint, he was that calm and cool he - lit her with the third match. He unlocked the door and in we went. - </p> - <p> - Bill was snoring like all get out, and talking in his sleep. That made us - feel braver again. Squint says to handcuff him easy and gentle before he - wakes. Well, there wasn't any trouble in that; the trouble was to wake him - up afterward. He was so interested in whatever he was dreaming about that - the only way we could do it was to tickle his nose with a straw and wait - until he sneezed himself awake. Squint clapped the muzzle of the pistol to - his forehead, while I flashed the lantern in his eyes and the other three - sat on his stomach and grabbed his legs. Squint says: - </p> - <p> - “William Patterson, one move and you are a dead man!” - </p> - <p> - But Bill didn't try to move any; he only said: “Can't an honest - working-man take a little nap? You go 'way and leave me be!” - </p> - <p> - “William Patterson,” says Squint, “you are kidnapped!” - </p> - <p> - “Yer a liar,” says Bill. “I ain't. Ye can't prove it on to me. I'm just - takin' a little nap.” - </p> - <p> - Then he rouses up a little more and looks at us puzzled, and begins to - mumble and talk to himself: - </p> - <p> - “Here I be,” he says, “and here they be! I can see 'em, all right; but - they can't fool me! They ain't really nothing here. I seen too many of - them tremenses come and go to be fooled that easy.” - </p> - <p> - “Arise, William Patterson, and come with us,” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - “Now, you don't want to get too sassy,” says Bill, “or you'll turn into - something else the first thing <i>you</i> know. You tremenses always does - turn into something else.” We had to kick him on the shins to make him get - up. When we did that he says to himself: “Shucks, now! A body'd think he - was bein' kicked if he didn't know different, wouldn't he?” - </p> - <p> - He came along peaceable enough, but muttering to himself all the way: - “Monkeys and crocodiles and these here striped jackasses with wings on to - 'em I've saw many a time, and argified with 'em, too; and talked with - elephants no bigger'n a man's fist; and oncet I chased a freight train - round and round that calaboose and had it give me sass; but this is the - first time a passel o' little old men ever come and trotted me down the - pike.” - </p> - <p> - And he kept talking like that all the way to the cave. It was midnight - before we took off his handcuffs and shoved him in. When we gave him that - shove, he did get sort of spiteful and he says: - </p> - <p> - “You tremenses think you're mighty smart, but if I was to come out of this - sudden, where would <i>you</i> be? Blowed up, that's where—like - bubbles!” - </p> - <p> - We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and by - the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when we - lit out for town again. - </p> - <p> - On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank, - we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and - spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. They - read as follows: - </p> - <p> - <i>Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis - Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef - in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!</i> - </p> - <p> - —<i>the kidNappers.</i> - </p> - <p> - Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. I - had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had some - canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the others - were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get hold of - easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave door Bill - was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him: - </p> - <p> - “Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with all - the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not - ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need have - no fear.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain't afeared,” says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly - believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a hollow - stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom of it - through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our fireplace. - If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only think some farmer - was burning out stumps. - </p> - <p> - Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or - suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat back - and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning: - </p> - <p> - “I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is.” - </p> - <p> - “It's Illinois,” says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it. - </p> - <p> - “So it is,” says he. “So it is!” After he had smoked awhile longer he - said: “What county in Illinois would you say it was, for choice?” - </p> - <p> - “Bureau county,” I told him. I saw then he hadn't known where he was. - </p> - <p> - “It ain't possible, is it,” he says, “that I ever seen any of you boys on - the streets of a little city by the name of Hazelton?” - </p> - <p> - I told him yes. - </p> - <p> - “I s'pose they got the same old city marshal there?” says he. I guess he - thought maybe he'd been gone for years and years, like Rip Van Winkle. He - was having a hard time to get things straightened out in his mind. He - stared and stared into the bowl of his pipe, looking at me now and then - out of the corners of his eyes as if he wondered whether he could trust me - or not; finally he leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear, - awfully anxious: “Who would you say I was, for choice, now?” - </p> - <p> - “Bill Patterson,” I told him, and he brightened up considerable and - chuckled to himself; and then he said, feeling of himself all over and - tying on his rope again: - </p> - <p> - “Bill Patterson is correct! Been wanderin' around through these here woods - for weeks an' weeks, livin' on roots an' yarbs like a wild man of Borneo.” - Then he asks me very confidential: “How long now, if you was to make a - guess, would you judge Bill had been livin' in this here cave?” - </p> - <p> - But Squint cut in and told him point blank he was kidnapped. It took a - long time to get that into Bill's head, but finally he asked: “What for?” - </p> - <p> - “For ransom,” says I. - </p> - <p> - “And revenge,” says Squint. - </p> - <p> - Bill looked dazed for a minute, and then said if it was all the same to us - he'd like to have a talk with a lawyer. But Bob Jones broke in and told - him “Unless five hundred dollars is paid over to the gang, you will never - see Hazelton again.” He looked frightened at that and began to pick at his - coat-sleeves, and said he guessed if we didn't mind he'd go and take a - little nap now. You never saw such a captive for sleeping up his spare - time; he was just naturally cut out to be a prisoner. But we felt kind of - sorry and ashamed we had scared him; it was so easy to scare him, and we - agreed we'd speak gentle and easy to him after that. - </p> - <p> - At dinner time we waked Bill up and gave him another meal. And he was - ready for it; the sight of victuals seemed to take any fright he might - have had out of his mind. You never saw such an appetite in all your born - days; he ate like he had years of lost time to make up for; and maybe he - had. He was having such a good time he began to have his doubts whether it - would last, for he said, in a worried kind of way, after dinner: “This - here thing of being kidnapped, now, ain't a thing you boys is going to try - and charge for, is it? 'Cause if it is them there sharp tricks can't be - worked on to me; and if you was to sue me for it you sue a pauper.” - </p> - <p> - After dinner Squint and I went to town on a scouting party. We hung around - the streets and listened to the talk that was going on just like a couple - of spies would that had entered the enemy's camp in war time. Everybody - was wondering what had become of Bill, and gassing about the notices; and - it made us feel mighty proud to think that fame had come to ones so young - as us, even although it came in disguise so that no one but us knew it. - But in the midst of that feeling we heard Hy Williams, the city drayman, - saying to a crowd of fellows who were in front of the post office waiting - for the mail to be distributed: - </p> - <p> - “The beatingest part of the whole thing is that any one would be fools - enough to think that this town or any other town would pay ransom to get - back a worthless cuss like Bill Patterson!” - </p> - <p> - It had never struck us like that before. Instead of being famous like we - had thought, here we were actually being laughed at again! Squint, he - gritted his teeth, and I knew all the rankling that he had done inside of - him was as nothing to the rankling that he was doing now. So that night we - put up some more notices around town, which read as follows: - </p> - <p> - <i>n. B.—take notus! we didunt reely Expect money for Old Bill - Patterson, we onely done that to show this town Is in Our Power. Take - warning and pay Up the next will be a rich one or his child.</i> - </p> - <p> - —<i>kidnappers.</i> - </p> - <p> - That really made folks pretty serious, that notice. There was a piece in a - Chicago paper about the things that had happened in our town. The piece - told a lot of things that never had happened, but when the papers came - down from Chicago and they all read it the whole town began to get worse - and worse excited. And about that time we began to get scared ourselves. - For there was talk of sending off to Chicago and getting a detective. - People were frightened about their kids, too. It kept getting harder and - harder for us to get out to the cave to guard Bill. Not that he needed - much guarding, either; for he was having the time of his life out there, - eating and sleeping and not working at anything else. It had been years - since he had struck any kind of work that suited him as well as being - kidnapped did; if we hadn't been so worried it would have been a pleasure - to us to see how happy and contented we were making him; he acted like he - had found the real job in life that he had always been looking for, and - the only thing that bothered him at all was when he recollected about that - ransom and got afraid the town would pay it and end his snap. But mostly - he didn't bother about anything; for his recollection was only by fits and - starts; yesterday was just as far off to him as a year ago. The second day - he was there he did get a little grouchy because he had been without - anything to drink for so long. But that night someone broke into the - saloon and stole a lot of quart bottles of whiskey; about a bushel of - them, it was said. We didn't suspect it was Bill, right at first, for he - was foxy enough to keep it hid from us; and when we did know we didn't - dare say anything! That whiskey was the one thing Bill had lacked to make - him completely happy. But the theft worked in a way that increased our - troubles. For it showed people that the mysterious gang was still hanging - around waiting to strike a desperate stroke. And the very next night a - store was broken into and some stuff stolen. It wasn't Bill, but I suppose - some tramp that was hanging around; but it helped to stir things up worse - and worse. So we decided that we had better turn Bill loose. We held a - meeting out by the cave, and then Squint told him: - </p> - <p> - “Prisoner, you are at liberty!” - </p> - <p> - “What d'ye mean by that?” says Bill. “You ain't goin' back on me, are ye?” - </p> - <p> - “Yonder town has been punished enough,” says Squint. “Go free—we - strike your shackles off!” - </p> - <p> - “But see here,” says Bill, “wasn't I kidnapped reg'lar? Ain't I been a - model prisoner?” - </p> - <p> - “But we're through with you, Bill,” we told him. “Don't you understand?” - </p> - <p> - Bill allowed it was a mean trick we were playing on him; he said he had - thought we were his friends, and that he'd done his best to give - satisfaction in the place, and here we were, firing him, as you might say, - without any warning, or giving him any chance to get another job like it, - or even telling him where he had failed to make good, and then he snuffled - like he was going to cry, and said: “That's a great way to treat an honest - workin'-man, that is! An' they call this a free country, too!” - </p> - <p> - But Squint, while expressing sorrow that we should have raised any false - hopes, was firm with him, too. “You take the rest of that whiskey and - chase along, now, Bill,” he said, “you aren't kidnapped any more.” - </p> - <p> - But Bill flared up at that. “I ain't, ain't I?” he said. “Yer a liar! I - was kidnapped fair and square; kidnapped I be, and kidnapped I stay! I'll - show you blamed little cheats whether I'm kidnapped or not, I will!” - </p> - <p> - He took a chew of tobacco and sat down on a log, and studied us, looking - us over real sullen and spiteful. “Now, then,” he says, finally, “if you - young smart alecs think you can treat a free man that-a-way yer dern - fools. I got the law on to my side, I have. Do you think I don't know - that? Mebby you boys don't know ye could go to jail for kidnappin' an - honest work-in'-man? Well, ye could, if it was found out on ye. It's a - crime, that's what it is, and ye could go to jail for it. You treat Old - Bill fair and square and keep friends with him, and he won't tell on you; - but the minute I hear any more talk about bein' set at liberty I'll tell - on ye, and to jail you goes. I'm mighty comfortable where I be, and I - ain't goin' to be turned out.” - </p> - <p> - We all looked at each other, and then we looked away again, and our hearts - sank. For each one read in his neighbour's eyes (as Squint said later) - what his doom might well be. - </p> - <p> - “Kidnapped I be,” says Bill again, very rough and decided, “and kidnapped - I stay. And what's more, I want chicken for supper to-night. I ain't had - no chicken for quite a spell. You can wake me up when supper's ready.” And - he went into the cave and lay down for a nap. - </p> - <p> - We were in his power, and he knew it! - </p> - <p> - We had to steal that chicken, and it went against the grain to do it. It - was the first time in its career of crime the Dalton Gang had ever - actually stolen anything. Except, of course, watermelons and such truck, - which isn't really stealing. And except the ice cream from the Methodist - lawn sociable, which was for revenge and as a punishment on the Sunday - School, and so not really stealing, either. - </p> - <p> - Things got worse and worse. For Bill, he kept us on the jump. He got to - wanting more and more different things to eat, and was more and more - particular about the cooking. He wouldn't lift a hand for himself, not - even to fill and light his own pipe. We waited on him hand and foot, all - day long. And first he would take a fancy for a mess of squirrels, and - then he would want pigeons; and we had to take turns fanning the flies off - of him when he wanted to take a nap. Once he told a story, and we all - laughed at it; and that gave him the idea he was a great story teller; and - he would tell foolish yarns by the hour and get sulky if we didn't laugh. - We got so we would do anything to keep him in a good humour. We had a lot - of Indian stories and Old Sleuths out to the cave, and he made us take - turns reading to him. That good-for-nothing loafer turned into a regular - king, and we were his slaves. - </p> - <p> - Between sneaking out there to keep him happy and contented and rustling up - grub for him, and thinking all the time we would be arrested the next - minute, and wanting to confess and not daring to, we all got right - nervous. Then there was a man came to town who didn't tell what his - business was the first day he was there, and we were right sure he was a - detective. He passed right by the cave one day, and we hugged the ground - behind the bushes and didn't dare breathe. It turned out afterward he was - only looking at some land he was figuring on buying. But that night I - dreamed that that man arrested me; and I was being sent to jail when I - waked up screaming out something about kidnapping. I heard my Pa say to my - Ma, after they had got me quieted down: - </p> - <p> - “Poor little fellow! He thought he was kidnapped! No wonder he is afraid, - the state this whole town is in. If those desperadoes are caught, they'll - go to the pen for a good long term: nothing on earth can save 'em from a - Bureau county jury.” - </p> - <p> - Then he went back into his room and went to sleep; but I didn't go to - sleep. What he had said didn't make me feel sleepy. I slipped out of bed - and prayed enough that night to make up for the times I had forgot it - lately; and the next day the rest of the Dalton Gang admitted they had - prayed some, too. - </p> - <p> - But the worst of all was when Bill made friends with the tramp. Squint and - I went out to the cave one morning to get Bill's breakfast for him, and as - we got near we heard two sets of snores. Bill's snore you could tell a - long way off, he sort of gargled his snores and they ended up with kind of - a choke and an explosion. But the other snore was more of a steady - whistling sound. We ran across the fellow sudden, and it like to have - frightened us out of a year's growth. He was lying just inside the cave - with his hat pulled over his face, but he was snoring with one eye open. - It peered out from under the brim of his hat; it was half-hidden, but it - was open all right, and it was staring straight at us. It wasn't human; no - one with good intentions would lie there like that and snore like he was - asleep and watch folks at the same time on the sly. We couldn't even run; - we stood there with that regular see-saw snore coming and going, and that - awful eye burning into the centres of our souls, as Squint says later, and - thought our end had come. But he waked up and opened the other eye, and - then we saw the first one was glass and he hadn't meant any harm by it. He - was right sorry he'd scared us, he said; but we'd have to get used to that - eye, for <i>he</i> allowed he was kidnapped, too. It was two days before - he quit being our captive and left, and they are among the saddest days I - ever spent. - </p> - <p> - He left because Bill's whiskey was gone; and the afternoon he left, Bill - was helpless. When we saw Bill in that fix it gave us an idea how to get - rid of him. That night he was still weak and easy to handle. So we slipped - the handcuffs on him and took him back and locked him into the calaboose - again. Then we put signs and notices around town that read this way: - </p> - <p> - <i>Ha Ha Ha</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>Did you ever get left! this town joshed me for years but I have got - even—the joke is on to you—I wasn't kidnapped a tall—who - is the suckers now?</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>Bill Patterson.</i> - </p> - <p> - And that town was so mad that when they found Bill in the jail again there - was talk of handling him pretty rough. But it all turned into josh. Bill, - when he woke up in the calaboose, thought he had just had a dream at - first, and denied he had ever been absent. Then when he saw they all took - him for a deep joker he began to act like he was a joker. And before long - he got to thinking he really had played that trick on the town. When they - used to ask him how on earth he got into and out of the calaboose without - the keys, he would wink very mysterious, and look important, and nod and - chuckle to himself and say that was the best part of the joke and he - intended to keep it to himself. - </p> - <p> - But one day when he was almost sober he saw Squint and me on the street - and stared at us long and hard like he was trying to recollect something, - and scratched his head and said: “You boys didn't always used to live in - this town, did you?” - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh,” says I. - </p> - <p> - “That's funny,” says Bill, “I could have swore you was boys I once knowed - a long ways off from here that time I was on my travels.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am a middle-sized - dog, with spots on me here and there, and several different colours of - hair mixed in even where there aren't any spots, and my ears are frazzled - a little on the ends where they have been chewed in fights. - </p> - <p> - At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I - was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost - feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from - dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it. - </p> - <p> - I can well remember the afternoon on which the discovery was made. A lot - of us dogs were lying in the grass, up by the swimming hole, just lazying - around, and the boys were doing the same. All the boys were naked and - comfortable, and no humans were about, the only thing near being a cow or - two and some horses, and although large they are scarcely more human than - boys. Everybody had got tired of swimming, and it was too hot to drown out - gophers or fight bumblebees, and the boys were smoking grapevine - cigarettes and talking. - </p> - <p> - Us dogs was listening to the boys talk. A Stray Boy, which I mean one not - claimed or looked out for or owned by any dog, says to Freckles Watson, - who is my boy: - </p> - <p> - “What breed would you call that dog of yours, Freck?” - </p> - <p> - I pricked up my ears at that. I cannot say that I had ever set great store - by breeds up to the time that I found out I was an aristocrat myself, - believing, as Bill Patterson, a human and the town drunkard, used to say - when intoxicated, that often an honest heart beats beneath the outcast's - ragged coat. - </p> - <p> - “Spot ain't any <i>one</i> particular breed,” says Freckles. “He's - considerably mixed.” - </p> - <p> - “He's a mongrel,” says Squint Thompson, who is Jack Thompson's boy. - </p> - <p> - “He ain't,” says Freckles, so huffy that I saw a mongrel must be some sort - of a disgrace. “You're a link, link liar, and so's your Aunt Mariar,” says - Freckles. - </p> - <p> - I thought there might be a fight then, but it was too hot for any - enjoyment in a fight, I guess, for Squint let it pass, only saying, “I - ain't got any Aunt Mariar, and you're another.” - </p> - <p> - “A dog,” chips in the Stray Boy, “has either got to be a thoroughbred or a - mongrel. He's either an aristocrat or else he's a common dog.” - </p> - <p> - “Spot ain't any common dog,” says Freckles, sticking up for me. “He can - lick any dog in town within five pounds of his weight.” - </p> - <p> - “He's got some spaniel in him,” says the Stray Boy. - </p> - <p> - “His nose is pointed like a hound's nose,” says Squint Thompson. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Freckles, “neither one of them kind of dogs is a common dog.” - </p> - <p> - “Spot has got some bulldog blood in him, too,” says Tom Mulligan, an Irish - boy owned by a dog by the name of Mutt Mulligan. “Did you ever notice how - Spot will hang on so you can't pry him loose, when he gets into a fight?” - </p> - <p> - “That proves he is an aristocratic kind of dog,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “There's some bird dog blood in Spot,” says the Stray Boy, sizing me up - careful. - </p> - <p> - “He's got some collie in him, too,” says Squint Thompson. “His voice - sounds just like a collie's when he barks.” - </p> - <p> - “But his tail is more like a coach dog's tail,” says Tom Mulligan. - </p> - <p> - “His hair ain't, though,” says the Stray Boy. “Some of his hair is like a - setter's.” - </p> - <p> - “His teeth are like a mastiff's,” says Mutt Mulligan's boy Tom. And they - went on like that; I never knew before there were so many different kinds - of thoroughbred dog. Finally Freckles says: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he's got all them different kinds of thoroughbred blood in him, and - he's got other kinds you ain't mentioned and that you ain't slick enough - to see. You may think you're running him down, but what you say just <i>proves</i> - he ain't a common dog.” - </p> - <p> - I was glad to hear that. It was beginning to look to me that they had a - pretty good case for me being a mongrel. - </p> - <p> - “How does it prove it?” asked the Stray Boy. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Freckles, “you know who the King of Spain is, don't you?” - </p> - <p> - They said they'd heard of him from time to time. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation of the King of Spain you'd - be a member of the Spanish royal family. You fellows may not know that, - but you would. You'd be a swell, a regular high-mucky-muck.” - </p> - <p> - They said they guessed they would. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation to the King of - Switzerland, too, you'd be just <i>twice</i> as swell, wouldn't you, as if - you were only related to one royal family? Plenty of people are related to - just <i>one</i> royal family.” - </p> - <p> - Tom Mulligan butts in and says that way back, in the early days, his folks - was the Kings of Ireland; but no one pays any attention. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose, then, you're a cousin of the Queen of England into the bargain - and your grand-dad was King of Scotland, and the Prince of Wales and the - Emperor of France and the Sultan of Russia and the rest of those royalties - were relations of yours, wouldn't all that royal blood make you <i>twenty - times</i> as much of a high-mucky-muck as if you had just <i>one</i> - measly little old king for a relation?” - </p> - <p> - The boys had to admit that it would. - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't call a fellow with all that royal blood in him a <i>mongrel</i>, - would you?” says Freckles. “You bet your sweet life you wouldn't! A fellow - like that is darned near on the level with a congressman or a - vicepresident. Whenever he travels around in the old country they turn out - the brass band; and the firemen and the Knights of Pythias and the Modern - Woodmen parade, and the mayor makes a speech, and there's a picnic and - firecrackers, and he gets blamed near anything he wants. People kow-tow to - him, just like they do to a swell left-handed pitcher or a champion - prizefighter. If you went over to the old country and called a fellow like - that a mongrel, and it got out oh you, you would be sent to jail for it.” - </p> - <p> - Tom Mulligan says yes, that is so; his grand-dad came to this country - through getting into some kind of trouble about the King of England, and - the King of England ain't anywhere near as swell as the fellow Freckles - described, nor near so royal, neither. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “it's the same way with my dog, Spot, here. - <i>Any</i> dog can be full of just <i>one</i> kind of thoroughbred blood. - That's nothing! But Spot here has got more different kinds of thoroughbred - blood in him than any dog you ever saw. By your own say-so he has. He's - got <i>all</i> kinds of thoroughbred blood in him. If there's any kind he - ain't got, you just name it, will you?” - </p> - <p> - “He ain't got any Great Dane in him,” yells the Stray Boy, hating to - knuckle under. - </p> - <p> - “You're a liar, he has, too,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Stray Boy backed it, and there was a fight. All us dogs and boys - gathered around in a ring to watch it, and I was more anxious than anybody - else. For the way that fight went, it was easy to see, would decide what I - was. - </p> - <p> - Well, Freckles licked that Stray Boy, and rubbed his nose in the mud, and - that's how I come to be an aristocrat. - </p> - <p> - Being an aristocrat may sound easy. And it may look easy to outsiders. And - it may really be easy for them that are used to it. But it wasn't easy for - <i>me</i>. It came on me suddenly, the knowledge that I was one, and - without warning. I didn't have any time to practise up being one. One - minute I wasn't one, and the next minute I was; and while, of course, I - felt important over it, there were spells when I would get kind of - discouraged, too, and wish I could go back to being a common dog again. I - kept expecting my tastes and habits to change. I watched and waited for - them to. But they didn't. No change at all set in on me. But I had to - pretend I was changed. Then I would get tired of pretending, and be - down-hearted about the whole thing, and say to myself: “There has been a - mistake. I am <i>not</i> an aristocrat after all.” - </p> - <p> - I might have gone along like that for a long time, partly in joy over my - noble birth, and partly in doubt, without ever being certain, if it had - not been for a happening which showed, as Freckles said, that blood will - tell. - </p> - <p> - It happened the day Wilson's World's Greatest One Ring Circus and - Menagerie came to our town. Freckles and me, and all the other dogs and - boys, and a good many humans, too, followed the street parade around - through town and back to the circus lot. Many went in, and the ones that - didn't have any money hung around outside a while and explained to each - other they were going at night, because a circus is more fun at night - anyhow. Freckles didn't have any money, but his dad was going to take him - that night, so when the parade was over, him and me went back to his dad's - drug store on Main Street, and I crawled under the soda-water counter to - take a nap. - </p> - <p> - Freckles's dad, that everyone calls Doc Watson, is a pretty good fellow - for a human, and he doesn't mind you hanging around the store if you don't - drag bones in or scratch too many fleas off. So I'm there considerable in - right hot weather. Under the soda water counter is the coolest place for a - dog in the whole town. There's a zinc tub under there always full of - water, where Doc washes the soda-water glasses, and there's always - considerable water slopped on to the floor. It's damp and dark there - always. Outdoors it may be so hot in the sun that your tongue hangs out of - you so far you tangle your feet in it, but in under there you can lie - comfortable and snooze, and when you wake up and want a drink there's the - tub with the glasses in it. And flies don't bother you because they stay - on top of the counter where soda water has been spilled. - </p> - <p> - Circus day was a hot one, and I must have drowsed off pretty quick after - lying down. I don't know how long I slept, but when I waked up it was with - a start, for something important was going on outside in Main Street. I - could hear people screaming and swearing and running along the wooden - sidewalk, and horses whinnying, and dogs barking, and old Si Emery, the - city marshal, was yelling out that he was an officer of the law, and the - steam whistle on the flour mill was blowing. And it all seemed to be right - in front of our store. I was thinking I'd better go out and see about it, - when the screen doors crashed like a runaway horse had come through them, - and the next minute a big yellow dog was back of the counter, trying to - scrouch down and scrooge under it like he was scared and was hiding. He - backed me into the corner without seeing me or knowing I was there, and - like to have squashed me. - </p> - <p> - No dog—and it never struck me that maybe this wasn't a dog—no - dog can just calmly sit down on me like that when I'm waking up from a - nap, and get away with it, no matter <i>how</i> big he is, and in spite of - the darkness under there I could see and feel that this was the biggest - dog in the world. I had been dreaming I was in a fight, anyhow, when he - crowded in there with his hindquarters on top of me, and I bit him on the - hind leg. - </p> - <p> - When I bit him he let out a noise like a thrashing machine starting up. It - wasn't a bark. Nothing but the end of the world coming could bark like - that. It was a noise more like I heard one time when the boys dared - Freckles to lie down between the cattle guards on the railroad track and - let a train run over him about a foot above his head, and I laid down - there with him and it nearly deefened both of us. When he let out that - noise I says to myself, “Great guns! What kind of a dog have I bit?” - </p> - <p> - And as he made that noise he jumped, and over went the counter, marble top - and all, with a smash, and jam into the show window he went, with his tail - swinging, and me right after him, practically on top of him. It wasn't - that I exactly intended to chase him, you understand, but I was rattled on - account of that awful noise he had let out, and I wanted to get away from - there, and I went the same way he did. So when he bulged through the - window glass on to the street I bulged right after him, and as he hit the - sidewalk I bit him again. The first time I bit him because I was sore, but - the second time I bit him because I was so nervous I didn't know what I - was doing, hardly. And at the second bite, without even looking behind - him, he jumped clean over the hitch rack and a team of horses in front of - the store and landed right in the middle of the road with his tail between - his legs. - </p> - <p> - And then I realized for the first time he wasn't a dog at all. He was the - circus lion. - </p> - <p> - Mind you, I'm not saying that I would have bit him at all if I'd a-known - at the start he was a lion. - </p> - <p> - And I ain't saying I <i>wouldn't</i> 'a' bit him, either. - </p> - <p> - But actions speak louder than words, and records are records, and you - can't go back on them, and the fact is I <i>did</i> bite him. I bit him - twice. - </p> - <p> - And that second bite, when we came bulging through the window together, - the whole town saw. It was getting up telephone poles, and looking out of - second-story windows, and crawling under sidewalks and into cellars, and - trying to hide behind the town pump; but no matter where it was trying to - get to, it had one eye on that lion, and it saw me chasing him out of that - store. I don't say I would have chased him if he hadn't been just ahead of - me, anyhow, and I don't say I wouldn't have chased him, but the facts are - I <i>did</i> chase him. - </p> - <p> - The lion was just as scared as the town—and the town was so scared - it didn't know the lion was scared at all—and when his trainer got - hold of him in the road he was tickled to death to be led back to his - cage, and he lay down in the far corner of it, away from the people, and - trembled till he shook the wagon it was on. - </p> - <p> - But if there was any further doubts in any quarter about me being an - aristocrat, the way I bit and chased that lion settled 'em forever. That - night Freckles and Doc went to the circus, and I marched in along with - them. And every kid in town, as they saw Freckles and me marching in, - says: - </p> - <p> - “There goes the dog that licked the lion!” - </p> - <p> - And Freckles, every time any one congratulated him on being the boy that - belonged to that kind of a dog, would say: - </p> - <p> - “Blood will tell! Spot's an aristocrat, he is.” - </p> - <p> - And him and me and Doc Watson, his dad, stopped in front of the lion's - cage that night and took a good long look at him. He was a kind of an old - moth-eaten lion, but he was a lion all right, and he looked mighty big in - there. He looked so big that all my doubts come back on me, and I says to - myself: “Honest, now, if I'd <i>a-known</i> he was a lion, and that <i>big</i> - a lion, when I bit him, <i>would</i> I have bit him or would I not?” - </p> - <p> - But just then Freckles reached down and patted me on the head and said: - “You wasn't afraid of him, was you, old Spot! Yes, sir, blood will tell!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog) - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>ver since I bit a - circus lion, believing him to be another dog like myself, only larger, I - have been what Doc Watson calls a Public Character in our town. - </p> - <p> - Freckles, my boy, was a kind of a public character, too. He went around - bragging about my noble blood and bravery, and all the other boys and dogs - in town sort of looked up to him and thought how lucky he was to belong to - a dog like me. And he deserved whatever glory he got of it, Freckles did. - For, if I do say it myself, there's not a dog in town got a better boy - than my boy Freckles, take him all in all. I'll back him against any dog's - boy that is anywhere near his size, for fighting, swimming, climbing, - foot-racing, or throwing stones farthest and straightest. Or I'll back him - against any stray boy, either. - </p> - <p> - Well, some dogs may be born Public Characters, and like it. And some may - be brought up to like it. I've seen dogs in those travelling Uncle Tom's - Cabin shows that were so stuck on themselves they wouldn't hardly notice - us town dogs. But with me, becoming a Public Character happened all in a - flash, and it was sort of hard for me to get used to it. One day I was - just a private kind of a dog, as you might say, eating my meals at the - Watson's back door, and pretending to hunt rats when requested, and not - scratching off too many fleas in Doc Watson's drug store, and standing out - from underfoot when told, and other unremarkable things like that. And the - next day I had bit that lion and was a Public Character, and fame came so - sudden I scarcely knew how to act. - </p> - <p> - Even drummers from big places like St. Louis and Chicago would come into - the drug store and look at my teeth and toe nails, as if they must be - different from other dogs' teeth and toe nails. And people would come - tooting up to the store in their little cars, and get out and look me over - and say: - </p> - <p> - “Well, Doc, what'll you take for him?” and Doc would wink, and say: - </p> - <p> - “He's Harold's dog. You ask Harold.” - </p> - <p> - Which Harold is Freckles's other name. But any boy that calls him Harold - outside of the schoolhouse has got a fight on his hands, if that boy is - anywhere near Freckles's size. Harry goes, or Hal goes, but Harold is a - fighting word with Freckles. Except, of course, with grown people. I heard - him say one day to Tom Mulligan, his parents thought Harold was a name, or - he guessed they wouldn't have given it to him; but it wasn't a name, it - was a handicap. - </p> - <p> - Freckles would always say, “Spot ain't for sale.” And even Heinie - Hassenyager, the butcher, got stuck on me after I got to be a Public - Character. Heinie would come two blocks up Main Street with lumps of - Hamburg steak, which is the kind someone has already chewed for you, and - give them to me. Steak, mind you, not old gristly scraps. And before I - became a Public Character Heinie even grudged me the bones I would drag - out of the box under his counter when he wasn't looking. - </p> - <p> - My daily hope was that I could live up to it all. I had always tried, - before I happened to bite that lion, to be a friendly kind of a dog toward - boys and humans and dogs, all three. I'd always been expected to do a - certain amount of tail-wagging and be friendly. But as soon as I got to be - a Public Character, I saw right away I wasn't expected to be <i>too</i> - friendly any more. So, every now and then, I'd growl a little, for no - reason at all. A dog that has bit a lion is naturally expected to have - fierce thoughts inside of him; I could see that. And you have got to act - the way humans expect you to act, if you want to slide along through the - world without too much trouble. - </p> - <p> - So when Heinie would bring me the ready-chewed steak I'd growl at him a - little bit. And then I'd bolt and gobble the steak like I didn't think so - derned much of it, after all, and was doing Heinie a big personal favour - to eat it. And now and then I'd pretend I wasn't going to eat a piece of - it unless it was chewed finer for me, and growl at him about that. - </p> - <p> - That way of acting made a big hit with Heinie, too. I could see that he - was honoured and flattered because I didn't go any further than just a - growl. It gave him a chance to say he knew how to manage animals. And the - more I growled, the more steak he brought. Everybody in town fed me. I - pretty near ate myself to death for a while there, besides all the meat I - buried back of Doc Watson's store to dig up later. - </p> - <p> - But my natural disposition is to be friendly. I would rather be loved than - feared, which is what Bill Patterson, the village drunkard, used to say. - When they put him into the calaboose every Saturday afternoon he used to - look out between the bars on the back window and talk to the boys and dogs - that had gathered round and say that he thanked them one and all for - coming to an outcast's dungeon as a testimonial of affection, and he would - rather be loved than feared. And my natural feelings are the same. I had - to growl and keep dignified and go on being a Public Character, but often - I would say to myself that it was losing me all my real friends, too. - </p> - <p> - The worst of it was that people, after a week or so, began to expect me to - pull something else remarkable. Freckles, he got up a circus, and charged - pins and marbles, and cents when he found any one that had any, to get - into it, and I was the principal part of that circus. I was in a cage, and - the sign over me read: - </p> - <h3> - SPOT, THE DOG THAT LICKED A LION - </h3> - <h3> - TEN PINS ADMITTION - </h3> - <p> - To feed the lion-eater, one cent or two white chiney marbles extry but - bring your own meat. - </p> - <p> - Pat him once on the head twinty pins, kids under five not allowed to. - </p> - <p> - For shaking hands with Spot the lion-eater, girls not allowed, gents three - white chinies, or one aggie marble. - </p> - <p> - Lead him two blocks down the street and back, one cent before starting, no - marbles or pins taken for leading him. - </p> - <p> - For sicking him on to cats three cents or one red cornelian marble if you - furnish the cat. Five cents to use Watson's cat. Watson's biggest Tom-cat - six cents must be paid before sicking. Small kids and girls not allowed to - sick him on cats. - </p> - <p> - Well, we didn't take in any cat-sicking money. And it was just as well. - You never can tell what a cat will do. But Freckles put it in because it - sounded sort of fierce. I didn't care for being caged and circused that - way myself. And it was right at that circus that considerable trouble - started. - </p> - <p> - Seeing me in a cage like that, all famoused-up, with more meat poked - through the slats than two dogs could eat, made Mutt Mulligan and some of - my old friends jealous. - </p> - <p> - Mutt, he nosed up by the cage and sniffed. I nosed a piece of meat out of - the cage to him. Mutt grabbed it and gobbled it down, but he didn't thank - me any. Mutt, he says: - </p> - <p> - “There's a new dog down town that says he blew in from Chicago. He says he - used to be a Blind Man's Dog on a street corner there. He's a pretty wise - dog, and he's a right ornery-looking dog, too. He's peeled considerably - where he has been bit in fights.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mutt,” says I, “as far as that goes I'm peeled considerable myself - where I've been bit in fights.” - </p> - <p> - “I know you are, Spot,” says Mutt. “You don't need to tell me that. I've - peeled you some myself from time to time.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, “you did peel me some, Mutt. And I've peeled you some, too. - More'n that, I notice that right leg of yours is a little stiff yet where - I got to it about three weeks ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, Spot,” says Mutt, “maybe you want to come down here and see - what you can do to my other three legs. I never saw the day I wouldn't - give you a free bite at one leg and still be able to lick you on the other - three.” - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't talk that way if I was out of this cage,” I says, getting - riled. - </p> - <p> - “What did you ever let yourself be put into that fool cage for?” Mutt - says. “You didn't have to. You got such a swell head on you the last week - or so that you gotto be licked. You can fool boys and humans all you want - to about that accidental old lion, but us dogs got your number, all right. - What that Blind Man's Dog from Chicago would do to you would be a plenty!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” I says, “I'll be out of this cage along about supper time. - Suppose you bring that Blind Man's Dog around here. And if he ain't got a - spiked collar on to him, I'll fight him. I won't fight a spike-collared - dog to please anybody.” - </p> - <p> - And I wouldn't, neither, without I had one on myself, If you can't get a - dog by the throat or the back of his neck, what's the use of fighting him? - You might just as well try to eat a blacksmith shop as fight one of those - spike-collared dogs. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, there!” Freckles yelled at Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's boy. - “You get your fool dog away from the lion-eaters cage!” - </p> - <p> - Tom, he histed Mutt away. But he says to Freckles, being jealous himself, - “Don't be scared, Freck, I won't let my dog hurt yours any. Spot, he's - safe. He's in a cage where Mutt can't get to him.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles got riled. He says, “1 ain't in any cage, Tom.” - </p> - <p> - Tom, he didn't want to fight very bad. But all the other boys and dogs was - looking on. And he'd sort of started it. He didn't figure that he could - shut up that easy. And there was some girls there, too. - </p> - <p> - “If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “you'd wish you was in a - cage.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he didn't want to fight so bad, either. But he was running this - circus, and he didn't feel he could afford to pass by what Tom said too - easy. So he says: - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you think you're big enough to put me into a cage.” - </p> - <p> - “If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “there wouldn't be enough left - of you to put in a cage.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “why don't you make a pass at me?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you figure I don't dast to,” says Tom. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say you didn't dast to,” says Freckles; “any one that says I - said you didn't dast to is a link, link, liar, and so's his Aunt Mariar.” - </p> - <p> - Tom, he says, “I ain't got any Aunt Mariar. And you're another and dastn't - back it.” - </p> - <p> - Then some of the other kids put chips on to their shoulders. And each - dared the other to knock his chip off. And the other kids pushed and - jostled them into each other till both chips fell off, and they went at it - then. Once they got started they got really mad and each did all he knew - how. - </p> - <p> - And right in the midst of it Mutt run in and bit Freckles on the calf of - his leg. Any dog will fight for his boy when his boy is getting the worst - of it. But when Mutt did that I give a bulge against the wooden slats on - the cage and two of them came off, and I was on top of Mutt. The circus - was in the barn, and the hens began to scream and the horses began to - stomp, and all the boys yelled, “Sick 'im!” and “Go to it!” and danced - around and hollered, and the little girls yelled, and all the other dogs - began to bark, and it was a right lively and enjoyable time. But Mrs. - Watson, Freckles's mother, and the hired girl ran out from the house and - broke the fight up. - </p> - <p> - Grown women are like that. They don't want to fight themselves, and they - don't seem to want any one else to have any fun. You gotto be a hypocrite - around a grown woman to get along with her at all. And then she'll feed - you and make a lot of fuss over you. But the minute you start anything - with real enjoyment in it she's surprised to see you acting that way. - Nobody was licked satisfactory in that fight, or licked any one else - satisfactory. - </p> - <p> - Well, that night after supper, along comes that Blind Man's Dog. Never did - I see a Blind Man's Dog that was as tight-skinned. I ain't a dog that - brags, myself, and I don't say I would have licked that heavy a dog right - easy, even if he had been a loose-skinned dog. What I do say is that I had - been used to fighting looseskinned dogs that you can get some sort of a - reasonable hold on to while you are working around for position. And - running into a tight-skinned dog that way, all of a sudden and all - unprepared for it, would make anybody nervous. How are you going to get a - purchase on a tight-skinned dog when you've been fighting looseskinned - dogs for so long that your teeth and jaws just naturally set themselves - for a loose-skinned dog without thinking of it? - </p> - <p> - Lots of dogs wouldn't have fought him at all when they realized how they - had been fooled about him, and how tight-skinned he was. But I was a - Public Character now, and I had to fight him. More than that, I ain't - ready to say yet that that dog actually licked me. Freckles he hit him in - the ribs with a lump of soft coal, and he got off of me and run away - before I got my second wind. There's no telling what I would have done to - that Blind Man's Dog, tight-skinned as he was, if he hadn't run away - before I got my second wind. - </p> - <p> - Well, there's some mighty peculiar dogs in this world, let alone boys and - humans. The word got around town, in spite of his running away like that - before I got my second wind, that that Blind Man's Dog, so called, had - actually licked me! Many pretended to believe it. Every time Freckles and - me went down the street someone would say: - </p> - <p> - “Well, the dog that licked the lion got licked himself, did he?” - </p> - <p> - And if it was a lady said it, Freckles would spit on the sidewalk through - the place where his front teeth are out and pass on politely as if he - hadn't heard, and say nothing. And if it was a man that said it Freckles - would thumb his nose at him. And if it was a girl that said it he would - rub a handful of sand into her hair. And if it was a boy anywhere near his - size, there would be a fight. If it was too big a boy, Freckles would - sling railroad iron at him. - </p> - <p> - For a week or so it looked like Freckles and I were fighting all the time. - Three or four times a day, and every day. Oft the way to school, and all - through recess-times, and after school, and every time we went on to the - street. I got so chewed and he got so busted up that we didn't hardly - enjoy life. - </p> - <p> - No matter how much you may like to fight, some of the time you would like - to pick the fights yourself and not have other people picking them off of - you. Kids begun to fight Freckles that wouldn't have dast to stand up to - him a month before. I was still a Public Character, but I was getting to - be the kind you josh about instead of the kind you are proud to feed. I - didn't care so awful much for myself, but I hated it for Freckles. For - when they got us pretty well hacked, all the boys began to call him Harold - again. - </p> - <p> - And after they had called him Harold for a week he must have begun to - think of himself as Harold. For one Saturday afternoon when there wasn't - any school, instead of going swimming with the other kids or playing - baseball, or anything, he went and played with girls. - </p> - <p> - He must have been pretty well down-hearted and felt himself pretty much of - an outcast, or he wouldn't have done that. I am an honest dog, and the - truth must be told, the disgrace along with everything else, and the truth - is that he played with girls of his own accord that day—not because - he was sent to their house on an errand, not because it was a game got up - with boys and girls together, not because it was cousins and he couldn't - dodgje them, but because he was an outcast. Any boy will play with girls - when all the boys and girls are playing together, and some girls are - nearly as good as boys; but no boy is going off alone to look up a bunch - of girls and play with them without being coaxed unless he has had - considerable of a down-fall. - </p> - <p> - Right next to the side of our yard was the Wilkinses. They had a bigger - house and a bigger yard than ours. Freckles was sitting on the top of the - fence looking into their orchard when the three Wilkins girls came out to - play. There was only two boys in the Wilkins family, and they was twins; - but they were only year-old babies and didn't amount to anything. The two - oldest Wilkins girls, the taffy-coloured-haired one and the squint-eyed - one, each had one of the twins, taking care of it. And the other Wilkins - girl, the pretty one, she had one of those big dolls made as big as a - baby. - </p> - <p> - They were rolling those babies and the doll around the grass in a - wheelbarrow, and the wheel came off, and that's how Freckles happened to - go over. - </p> - <p> - “Up in the attic,” says the taffy-coloured-haired one, when he had fixed - up the wheelbarrow, “there's a little old express wagon with one wheel off - that would be better'n this wheelbarrow. Maybe you could fix that wheel - on, too, Harold.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he fell for it. After he got the wagon fixed, they got to - playing charades and fool girl games like that. The hired girl was off for - the afternoon, and pretty soon Mrs. Wilkins hollered up the stairs that - she was going to be gone for an hour, and to take good care of the twins, - and then we were alone in the place. - </p> - <p> - Well, it wasn't much fun for me. They played and they played, and I stuck - to Freckles—which his name was called nothing but Harold all that - afternoon, and for the first time I said to myself “Harold” seemed to fit. - I stuck to him because a dog should stick to his boy, and a boy should - stick to his dog, no matter what the disgrace. But after while I got - pretty tired and lay down on a rug, and a new kind of flea struck me. - After I had chased him down and cracked him with my teeth I went to sleep. - </p> - <p> - I must have slept pretty sound and pretty long. All of a sudden I waked up - with a start, and almost choking, for the place was smoky. I barked and no - one answered. - </p> - <p> - I ran out on to the landing, and the whole house was full of smoke. The - house was on fire, and it looked like I was alone in it. I went down the - back stairway, which didn't seem so full of smoke, but the door that let - out on to the first-floor landing was locked, and I had to go back up - again. - </p> - <p> - By the time I got back up, the front stairway was a great deal fuller of - smoke, and I could see glints of flame winking through it way down below. - But it was my only way out of that place. On the top step I stumbled over - a gray wool bunch of something or other, and I picked it up in my mouth. - Thinks I, “That is Freckles's gray sweater, that he is so stuck on. I - might as well take it down to him.” - </p> - <p> - It wasn't so hard for a lively dog to get out of a place like that, I - thought. But I got kind of confused and excited, too. And it struck me all - of a sudden, by the time I was down to the second floor, that that sweater - weighed an awful lot. - </p> - <p> - 1 dropped it on the second floor, and ran into one of the front bedrooms - and looked out. - </p> - <p> - By jings! the whole town was in the front yard and in the street. - </p> - <p> - And in the midst of the crowd was Mrs. Wilkins, carrying on like mad. - </p> - <p> - “My baby!” she yelled. “Save my baby. Let me loose! I'm going after my - baby!” - </p> - <p> - I stood up on my hind legs, with my head just out of that bedroom window, - and the flame and smoke licking up all around me, and barked. - </p> - <p> - “My doggie! My doggie!” yells Freckles, who was in the crowd, “I must save - my doggie!” And he made a run for the house, but someone grabbed him and - slung him back. - </p> - <p> - And Mrs. Wilkins made a run, but they held her, too. The front of the - house was one sheet of flame. Old Pop Wilkins, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, was - jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Wilkins yelling, here was her baby. - He had a real baby in one arm and that big doll in the other, and was so - excited he thought he had both babies. Later I heard what had happened. - The kids had thought they were getting out with both twins but one of them - had saved the doll and left a twin behind. The squint-eyed girl and the - taffy-coloured-haired girl and the pretty girl was howling as loud as - their mother. And every now and then some man would make a rush for the - front door, but the fire would drive him back. And everyone was yelling - advice to everyone else, except one man who was calling on the whole town - to get him an axe. The volunteer fire engine was there, but there wasn't - any water to squirt through it, and it had been backed up too near the - house and had caught fire and was burning up. - </p> - <p> - Well, I thinks that baby will likely turn up in the crowd somewhere, after - all, and I'd better get out of there myself while the getting was good. I - ran out of the bedroom, and run into that bunched-up gray bundle again. - </p> - <p> - I ain't saying that I knew it was the missing twin in a gray shawl when I - picked it up the second time. And I ain't saying that I didn't know it. - But the fact is that I did pick it up. I don't make any brag that I would - have risked my life to save Freckles's sweater. It may be I was so rattled - I just picked it up because I had had it in my mouth before and didn't - quite know what I was doing. - </p> - <p> - But the <i>record</i> is something you can't go behind, and the record is - that I got out the back way and into the back yard with that bundle - swinging from my mouth, and walked round into the front yard and laid that - bundle down—<i>and it was the twin!</i> - </p> - <p> - 1 don't make any claim that I <i>knew</i> it was the twin till I got into - the front yard, mind you. But you can't prove I <i>didn't</i> know it was. - </p> - <p> - And nobody tried to prove it. The gray bundle let out a squall. - </p> - <p> - “My baby!” yells Mrs. Wilkins. And she kissed me! I rubbed it off with my - paw. And then the taffy-coloured-haired one kissed me. And the first thing - I knew the pretty one kissed me. But when I saw the squint-eyed one coming - I got behind Freckles and barked. - </p> - <p> - “Three cheers for Spot!” yelled the whole town. And they give them. - </p> - <p> - And then I saw what the lay of the land was, so 1 wagged my tail and - barked. - </p> - <p> - It called for that hero stuff, and I throwed my head up and looked noble—and - pulled it. - </p> - <p> - An hour before Freckles and me had been outcasts. And now we was Public - Characters again. We walked down Main Street, and we owned it. And we - hadn't any more than got to Doc Watson's drug store than in rushed Heinie - Hassenyager with a lump of Hamburg steak, and with tears in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “It's got chicken livers mixed in it, too!” says Heinie. I ate it. But - while I ate it, I growled at him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ever did I suppose - that I would be a bloodhound in an “Uncle Tom's Cabin” show. But I have - been one, and my constant wish is that it has not made me too proud and - haughty. For proud and haughty dogs, sooner or later, all have their - downfalls. The dog that was the rightful bloodhound in that show was the - proudest and haughtiest dog I ever met, and he had his downfall. - </p> - <p> - Other proud and haughty dogs I have seen, in my time; and some of them I - have licked, and some of them have licked me. For instance, there was the - one that used to be a blind man's dog on a street corner in Chicago. He - was a tough, loud-barking, red-eyed dog, full of suspiciousness and fleas; - and his disposition was so bad that it was even said that if one of his - fleas bit an ordinary dog, that ordinary dog would swell up where he was - bit as if a hornet had stung him. He was proud of those fleas and proud of - being that ornery; but he had his downfall. - </p> - <p> - Another proud and haughty dog I knew belonged to the dog and pony part of - a circus that came to our town once. He sat in a little cart in the street - parade, with a clown's hat and jacket on, and drove a Shetland pony. You - couldn't get him into a fight; he would just grin and say he was worth too - much money to risk himself in a fight, especially as the money he was - worth did not belong to him anyhow, but to the circus that owned him. He - said it wouldn't be honest to risk other people's money just because he - wanted to fight; but I have never believed that he really wanted to fight. - He grinned mostly all the time, a conceited kind of grin, and he would - up-end himself and stand on his head for you to admire him, and then flop - over and bark and look proud of his own tricks and proud of the money he - was worth. But he had his downfall right in the midst of his greatest - pride, for a brindle Tom-cat with one eye went after him right in the - middle of that street parade, and he left that cart very quickly, and it - nearly broke up the parade. - </p> - <p> - But the proudest and haughtiest of all was the bloodhound that owned that - Uncle Tom show—leastways, he acted as if he owned it. It was a show - that showed in a tent, like a regular circus, and it stayed in our town - three days. It had a street parade, too; and this bloodhound was led along - at the head of the street parade with a big heavy muzzle on, and he was - loaded down with chains and shackles so he could hardly walk. Besides the - fellow that led him, there were two more men that followed along behind - him and held on to chains that were fastened to his collar. In front of - him marched the Uncle Tom of that show; and every now and then the - bloodhound would struggle to get at Uncle Tom and be pulled back. He was a - very dangerous-looking dog, and you thought to yourself what a lot of - damage he would probably do if he was ever to bite those chains to pieces - and eat up those three men that held him and chew Uncle Tom and then run - loose into the world. Every step he took he would toss his head and jangle - those chains and growl. - </p> - <p> - After the parade was over, a lot of us dogs and boys went down to the lot - where the show was to be held. We were hanging around the tent where the - actors were eating, and that bloodhound dog was there without chains like - any other dog, and us dogs got to talking with him. - </p> - <p> - “You country-town dogs,” he says to Mutt Mulligan, who is a friend of mine - and some considerable dog himself, “don't want to come fussin' around too - close to my cook tent or my show! Us troupers ain't got any too much use - for you hick dogs, anyhow.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's <i>your</i> show, is it?” says Mutt. - </p> - <p> - “Whose show did you think it was?” says that bloodhound dog, very haughty. - </p> - <p> - “1 thought from all those chains and things, maybe the show owned you, - instead of you owning the show,” says Mutt. - </p> - <p> - “You saw who led that street parade, didn't you?” says the bloodhound dog. - “Well, that ought to tell you who the chief actor of this show is. This - here show is built up around me. If anything was to happen to me, there - couldn't be any show.” - </p> - <p> - Mutt, he gave me a signal with his tail to edge in a little closer, and I - sidled up to where I could grab a front leg unexpected to him, if he made - a pass at Mutt. And then Mutt says, sneering so his teeth stuck out and - his nose wrinkled: - </p> - <p> - “Something's goin' to happen to you, if you ain't more polite and - peaceable in your talk.” - </p> - <p> - “What's goin' to happen to me?” says that bloodhound dog. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you let them bristles rise around your neck,” says Mutt, “or you'll - find out what's goin' to happen to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Whose bristles are they?” says that bloodhound dog. - </p> - <p> - “It don't make any difference whose bristles they are,” says Mutt. “No dog - can stick his bristles up into my face like that and get away with it. - When I see bristles stand up, I take it personal.” - </p> - <p> - But just then Old Uncle Zeb White, who is coloured, come amoseyin' along, - and that Tom-show dog barked out: - </p> - <p> - “Somebody hold me! Quick! Somebody muzzle me! Somebody better put my - chains on to me again! Somebody better tell that coloured man to clear out - of here! I've been trained to chase coloured men! What do they mean by - letting that coloured man get near my show tent?” - </p> - <p> - Old Uncle Zeb, he is the quietest and most peaceable person anywhere, - amongst dogs, boys, or humans, and the janitor of the Baptist church. He - is the only coloured man in our town, and is naturally looked up to and - respected with a good deal of admiration and curiosity on that account, - and also because he is two hundred years old. He used to be the - bodyservant of General George Washington, he says, until General - Washington set him free. And then along comes Abraham Lincoln after a - while and sets him free again, he says. And being set free by two - prominent men like that, Uncle Zeb figures he is freer than anybody else, - and I have heard him tell, time and again, how he can't speak kindly - enough of them two white gentlemen. - </p> - <p> - “Don't anybody sick me on to that coloured man,” says this bloodhound dog. - “If I was to be sicked on to that coloured man, this whole town couldn't - pull me off again! I been trained to it, I tell you!” - </p> - <p> - Which it was easy enough to see he really didn't want to start anything; - it was just his pride and haughtiness working in him. Just then Freckles - Watson, who is my boy that I own, and Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's - boy, both says: “Sick 'im!” Not that they understood what us dogs was - talking about, but they saw me and Mutt sidling around that Tom-show dog, - and it looked to them like a fight could be commenced. But the Tom-show - dog, when he heard that “Sick 'im!” jumped and caught Uncle Zeb by a leg - of his trousers. Then Uncle Zeb's own dog, which his name is Burning Deck - after a piece Uncle Zeb heard recited one time, comes a-bulging and - a-bouncing through the crowd and grabs that Tom-show dog by the neck. - </p> - <p> - They rolled over and over, and into the eating tent, and under the table. - The actors jumped up, and the table got tipped over, and the whole meal - and the tin dishes they was eating off of and all the actors and the - benches and the dogs was wallowing and banging and kicking and barking and - shouting on the ground in a mess, and all of us other dogs run in to help - Burning Deck lick that bloodhound, and all the boys followed their dogs in - to see a square deal, and then that tent come down on top of everything, - and believe me it was some enjoyable time. And I found quite a sizeable - piece of meat under there in the mix-up, and I thinks to myself I better - eat that while I can get it, so I crawled out with it. Outside is sitting - Uncle Zeb, watching that fallen-down tent heaving and twisting and - squirming, and I heard him say to himself: - </p> - <p> - “White folks is allers gittin' up some kin' of entuh-tainment fo' us - cullud people to look at! Us cullud people suah does git treated fine in - dese heah Nothe'n towns!” - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon everybody comes crawling out from under that tent, and they - straightens her up, and the boss of the show begins to talk like Uncle Zeb - has done the whole thing, and Uncle Zeb just sits on the grass and smiles - and scratches his head. And finally the boss of the show says to Uncle Zeb - could he hire Burning Deck for the bloodhound's part? Because Burning Deck - has just about chewed that proud and haughty dog to pieces, and they've - got to have a bloodhound! - </p> - <p> - “No, suh,” says Uncle Zeb. “No, suh! I thank yo' kindly fo' yo' offer, - suh, but Burnin' Deck, he ain't gwine inter no show whah he likely ter be - sicked on ter no cullud pusson. Burnin' Deck, he allers been a good - Republican, bringed up that-a-way, des de same as me, an' we ain't gwine - ter take no paht in any gwines-on agin' de cullud nation.” - </p> - <p> - “But see here,” says the boss. “In this show the coloured people get all - the best of it. In this show the coloured people go to Heaven!” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Zeb says he had heard a good deal about that Uncle Tom show in his - life, first and last, and because he had heard so much, he went to see it - one time. And he says if getting chased by bloodhounds and whipped by - whips is giving them the best of it, he hopes he never obtains admission - to any show where they get the worst of it. The boss, he says that show is - the show that helped make the coloured people free, and Uncle Zeb ought to - be proud of Burning Deck acting in it. But Uncle Zeb says he ain't to be - fooled; it was General Washington set 'em free first, and Abraham Lincoln - set 'em free the second time, and now President Wilson is licking them - Germans and setting them free again. And as for him, he says, he will - stick to his own white folks that he knows and janitors for and whose - clothes fit him, and Burning Deck will do the same. And as far as them - Tom-show coloured folks' going to heaven is concerned, he reckons he don't - want to be chased there by no bloodhounds; and it ain't likely that a man - that has janitored for a Baptist church as faithful as he has would go - anywhere else, anyhow. So he takes Burning Deck and goes along home. - </p> - <p> - “I've got to have a dog,” says the boss, watching them get the tent fixed - up, and rubbing his head. - </p> - <p> - “Would Spot do?” says Freckles, which is my boy, Spot being me. - </p> - <p> - Well, I never expected to be an actor, as I said before. But they struck a - bargain, which Freckles was to get free admission to that show, and I was - to be painted and dyed up some and be a bloodhound. Which the boss said - the regular bloodhound which Burning Deck had eat so much of wasn't really - a bloodhound, anyhow, but only a big mongrel with bloodhound notions in - his head. - </p> - <p> - Well, maybe you've seen that show. Which all the bloodhound has to do is - to run across the stage chasing that Uncle Tom, and Freckles was to run - across with me, so there wasn't much chance to go wrong. - </p> - <p> - And nothing would have gone wrong if it hadn't been for Burning Deck. - Uncle Zeb White must have got over his grouch against that show, for there - he was sitting in the front row with a new red handkerchief around his - throat and his plug hat on his knees, and Burning Deck was there with him. - I never had anything but liking for Uncle Zeb, for he knows where to - scratch dogs. But Burning Deck and me have never been close friends, on - account of him being jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches you too long. He - even is jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches a pig, which all the pigs in town - that can get loose have a habit of coming to Uncle Zeb's cottage to be - scratched, and they say around town that some of those pigs never find - their way home again. Squeals have been heard coming from Uncle Zeb's - kitchen, but the rest of the pigs never seem to learn. - </p> - <p> - But no self-respecting dog would be jealous if his boss scratched a pig. - For after all, what is a pig? It is just a pig, and that is all you can - say for it. A pig is not a person; a pig is something to eat. But Burning - Deck is a peculiar dog, and he gets ideas into his head. And so, right in - the midst of the show, when I chased that coloured man across the stage, - Burning Deck all of a sudden jumped up on to the platform and grabbed me. - I would have licked him then and there, but what was left of the show's - bloodhound come crawling out on to the stage dragging two of his legs, and - Burning Deck turned from me to him, and then all the actors run on to the - stage to save what was left of the bloodhound, and Si Emery, the city - marshal, threw open his coat so you could see his big star and climbed on - to the stage and arrested everybody, and somebody dropped the curtain down - right into the midst of it. - </p> - <p> - And the way it happened, on the outside of the curtain was left Freckles - and me and the Little Eva of that show, which she is beautiful, with long - yellow hair and pink cheeks and white clothes like an angel. And before - Freckles could stop her, she took hold of him by the hand and says to the - audience won't they please be kind to the poor travelling troupers and not - let them be under arrest, and let the show go on? And she cried - considerable, and all through her crying you could hear Si Emery behind - the curtain arresting people; and after while some of the women in the - audience got to crying, too, and the city fathers was all in the audience, - and they went up on to the stage and told Si, for the sake of Little Eva, - to release everyone he had arrested, and after that the show went on. - </p> - <p> - Well, after the show was out, quite a lot of the dogs and boys that was - friends of mine and of Freckles was waiting for us. Being in a show like - that made us heroes. But some of them were considerably jealous of us, - too, and there would have been some fights, but Freckles says kind of - dignified that he does not care to fight until his show is out of town, - but after that he will take on any and all who dare—that is, he - says, if he doesn't decide to go with that show, which the show is crazy - to have him do. And me and him and Stevie Stevenson, which is his - particular chum, goes off and sets down on the schoolhouse steps, and - Stevie tells him what a good actor he was, running across the stage with - me after that Uncle Tom. But Freckles, he is sad and solemn, and he only - fetches a sigh. - </p> - <p> - “What's eatin' you, Freckles?” Stevie asks him. Freckles, he sighs a - couple of times more, and then he says: - </p> - <p> - “Stevie, I'm in love.” - </p> - <p> - “Gosh, Freckles,” says Stevie. “Honest?” - </p> - <p> - “Honest Injun,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know who with?” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says Freckles. “If you didn't know who with, how would you know - you was?” - </p> - <p> - But Stevie, he says you might be and not know who with, easy enough. Once, - he says, he was like that. He says he was feeling kind of queer for a - couple of weeks last spring, and they dosed him and dosed him, with - sassafras and worm-medicine and roots and herbs, and none of it did any - good. His mother says it is growing-pains, and his father says it is - either laziness and not wanting to hoe in the garden or else it is a - tapeworm. And he thinks himself maybe it is because he is learning to chew - and smoke tobacco on the sly and keeps swallowing a good deal of it right - along. But one day he hears his older sister and another big girl talking - when they don't know he is around, and they are in love, both of them, and - from what he can make out, their feelings is just like his. And it come to - him all of a sudden he must be in love himself, and it was days and days - before he found out who it was that he was in love with. - </p> - <p> - “Who was it?” asks Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “It turned out to be Mabel Smith,” says Stevie, “and I was scared plumb to - death for a week or two that she would find out about it. I used to put - toads down her back and stick burrs into her hair so she wouldn't never - guess it.” - </p> - <p> - Stevie says he went through days and days of it, and for a while he was - scared that it might last forever, and he don't ever want to be in love - again. Suppose it should be found out on a fellow that he was in love? - </p> - <p> - “Stevie,” says Freckles, “this is different.” - </p> - <p> - Stevie asks him how he means. - </p> - <p> - “I <i>want</i> her to know,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” says Stevie. “No!” - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” - </p> - <p> - “It don't show on you, Freckles,” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - Freckles says of course it don't show. Only first love shows, he says. - Once before he was in love, he says, and that showed on him. That was last - spring, and he was only a kid then, and he was in love with Miss Jones, - the school teacher, and didn't know how to hide it. But this time he can - hide it, because this time he feels that it is different. He swallows down - the signs of it, he says, the way you keep swallowing down the signs of it - when you have something terrible like heart-disease or stomach-trouble, - and nobody will ever know it about him, likely, till after he is dead. - </p> - <p> - And when he is dead, Freckles says, they will all wonder what he died of, - and maybe he will leave a note, wrote in his own blood, to tell. And they - will all come in Injun file and pass through the parlour, he says, where - his casket will be set on to four chairs, and She will come filing by and - look at him, and she will say not to bury him yet, for there is a note - held tight in his hand. - </p> - <p> - And everybody will say: “A note? A note? Who can it be to?” - </p> - <p> - And She will say to pardon her for taking the liberty at a time like this, - but She has saw her own name on to that note. And then, Freckles says, She - will open it and read it out loud right there in the parlour to all of - them, and they will all say how the departed must have liked her to draw - up a note to her wrote in his own blood like that. - </p> - <p> - And then, Freckles says, She will say, yes, he must have liked her, and - that she liked him an awful lot, too, but She never knew he liked her, and - She wished now she had of known he liked her an awful lot, because to - write a note in his own blood like that showed that he liked her an awful - lot, and if he only was alive now she would show she liked him an awful - lot and would kiss him to show it. And she would not be scared to kiss him - in front of all those people standing around the sides of the parlour, - dead or alive. And then she would kiss him, Freckles says. And maybe, - Freckles says, he wouldn't be dead after all, but only just lying there - like the boy that travelled around with the hypnotizer who was put in a - store window and laid there all the time the hypnotizer was in town with - everybody making bets whether they could see him breathing or not. And - then, Freckles says, he would get up out of his casket, and his Sunday - suit with long pants would be on, and he would take the note and say: - “Yes, it is to you, and I wrote it with my own blood!” - </p> - <p> - Which, Freckles says, he has a loose tooth he could suck blood out of any - time, not wanting to scrape his arm on account of blood poison breaking - out. Though he says he had thought of using some of Spot's blood, but that - would seem disrespectful, somehow. And the tooth-blood seemed - disrespectful, too, for he did not know the girl right well. But it would - have to be the tooth-blood, he guessed, for there was a fellow out by the - county line got lockjaw from blood poison breaking out on him, and died of - it. And when She handed him the note, Freckles says, he would tell the - people in the parlour: “Little Eva and I forgive you all!” - </p> - <p> - “Little Eva!” says Stevie. “Gosh all fish hooks, Freckles, it ain't the - girl in the show, is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says Freckles, kind of sad and proud. “Freckles,” says Stevie, - after they had both set there and thought, saying nothing, for a while, “I - got just one more question to ask you: Are you figuring you will get - married? Is it as bad as that?” - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - Stevie, he thought for another while, and then he got up and put his hand - on to Freckles's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, old scout,” he says, “good-bye. I'm awful sorry for you, but I - can't chase around with you any more. I can't be seen running with you. I - won't tell this on you, but if it was ever to come out I wouldn't want to - be too thick with you. You know what the Dalton Gang would do to you, - Freck, if they ever got on to this. I won't blab, but I can't take no - risks about chumming with you.” - </p> - <p> - And he went away and left Freckles and me sitting there. But in a minute - he came back and said: - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, you know that iron sling-shot crotch of mine? You always used - to be stuck on that slingshot crotch, Freckles, and I never would trade it - to you. Well, Freckles, you can have that darned old iron slingshot crotch - free for nothing!” - </p> - <p> - “Stevie,” says Freckles, “I don't want it.” - </p> - <p> - “Gosh!” says Stevie, and he went off, shaking his head. - </p> - <p> - And I was considerable worried myself. I tagged him along home, and he - wasn't natural. He went into the house, and I tagged him along in and up - to his room, and he took no notice of me, though I'm not supposed to be - there at all. - </p> - <p> - And what do you suppose that kid did?—he went and washed his ears. - It was midnight, and there wasn't any one to make him do it, and there - wasn't any one to see his ears but me, but he washed 'em careful, inside - and out. And then he wet his hair and combed it. First he parted it on one - side, and then he parted it x on the other, and then he blushed and parted - it in the middle. I was sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed, and - he was facing the looking-glass, but I saw the blush because it spread - clear around to the back of his neck. - </p> - <p> - And then he went to the closet and put on his long pants that belonged to - his Sunday suit. The looking-glass wasn't big enough so he could see his - hair and his long pants all at the same time, but he tilted the glass and - squirmed and twisted around and saw them bit by bit. At first I thought - maybe he was going out again, even at that time of night, but he wasn't; - all he was doing was admiring himself. Just then his father pounded on the - wall and asked him if he wasn't in bed yet, and he said he was going. He - put the light out right away. But he didn't go to bed. He just sat in the - dark with his clean ears and his long pants on and his hair parted in the - middle, and several times before I went to sleep myself I heard him sigh - and say: “Little Eva! Little Eva's dying! Little Eva!” - </p> - <p> - He must have got so tired he forgot to undress, staying up that late and - everything, for in the morning when his father pounded on the door he - didn't answer. I was under the bed, and I stayed there. Pretty soon his - father pounded again, and then he came into the room. And there Freckles - was lying on the bed with his Sunday pants on and his hair parted in the - middle and his ears clean. - </p> - <p> - “Harold!” says his father, and shook him, “what does this mean?” - </p> - <p> - Harold is Freckles's other name, but if any one of his size calls him - Harold, there will be a fight. He sat up on the bed and says, still - sleepy: - </p> - <p> - “What does what mean, Pa?” - </p> - <p> - “Your lying there asleep with your clothes on,” says his father.. - </p> - <p> - “I was dressing, and I went to sleep again,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says his father. “It looks like it, don't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - I had crawled out to the foot of the bed where I could see them, and he - was still sleepy, but he was trying hard to think up something. - </p> - <p> - “It looks a lot like it,” says his father. “If you had slept in that bed, - the covers would have been turned down, wouldn't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, looking at them. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what then?” says his father. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Pa,” says Freckles, “I guess I must have made that bed up again in - my sleep, and I never knew it.” - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” says his father. “Do you do that often?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “a good deal lately.” - </p> - <p> - “Harold,” says his father, real interested, “aren't you feeling well these - days?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Pa,” says Freckles, “I ain't felt so very well for quite a while.” - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” says his pa. “How does it come when you dressed yourself you put - on your Sunday pants, and this is only Tuesday?” - </p> - <p> - Harold says he guesses he did that in his sleep, too, the same time he - made the bed up. - </p> - <p> - His pa wants to know if that has ever happened to him before. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “once I woke up in the moonlight right out on - one of the top limbs of the big maple tree in the front yard, with my - Sunday suit on.” - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” says his father. “And was your hair parted in the middle that - time, too?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he blushes till you can hardly see his freckles, and feels of - his hair. But he is so far in, now, that he can't get out. So he says: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, every time I get taken that way, so I go around in my sleep, - Pa, I find my hair has been parted in the middle, the next morning.” - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says his pa. “Let's see your ears.” And he pinched one of them - while he was looking at it, and Freckles says, “Ouch!” - </p> - <p> - “I thought so,” says his pa, but didn't say what he thought right away. - Then pretty soon he says: “Those ears have been washed since that neck - has.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Did you do that in your sleep, too?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you always do that when you have those spells of yours?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, I always find my ears have been washed the next morning.” - </p> - <p> - “But never your neck?” - </p> - <p> - “Sometimes my neck has, and sometimes it hasn't,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says his father, and took notice of me. I wagged my tail, and - hung my tongue out, and acted friendly and joyful and happy. If you want - to stay on good terms with grown-up humans, you have to keep them jollied - along. I wasn't supposed to be in the house at night, anyhow, but I hoped - maybe it would be overlooked. - </p> - <p> - “Did you paint and dye that dog up that way?” asked Freckles's father. For - of course the paint and dye they had put on me was still there. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles. “Nearly always when I come to myself in the - morning I find I have dyed Spot.” - </p> - <p> - “That's queer, too,” said his father. And then Harold says he dyes other - dogs, too, and once when he woke up in the maple tree there were three - strange dogs he had dyed at the foot of it. - </p> - <p> - “Harold,” says his father, “how often do these spells come on?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he says, some weeks they come often and some weeks hardly ever. - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” says his father. “And when they come on, do you notice it is - harder for you to tell the truth than at any other times?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles says he doesn't know what he says in his sleep when those spells - take him, nor even whether he talks in his sleep or not, but he guesses if - he does talk in his sleep what he says would be talk about his dreams, but - he can't remember what his dreams are, so he doesn't know whether what he - says is true or not. - </p> - <p> - “Uh-huh!” says his father. “Harold, do you own a gun?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” says Harold. Which is true, for he only owns a third interest - in a gun. Tom Mulligan and Stevie Stevenson own the rest of it, and they - are keeping it hid in the rafters of Tom Mulligan's barn till they can - save money enough to get it fixed so it will shoot. - </p> - <p> - “You haven't killed anybody in these spells of yours, have you, Harold?” - asks his father. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “How would you know if you had?” asks his father. - </p> - <p> - Freckles says there would be blood on him next morning, wouldn't there? - </p> - <p> - “Not,” says his father, “if you stood at a distance and killed them with a - gun.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles knows he hasn't ever really had any of these spells he says he - has had, but from his looks I should judge he was scared, too, by the way - his father was acting. - </p> - <p> - “Pa,” he says, “has any one been found dead?” - </p> - <p> - “The body hasn't been found yet,” says his father, “but from what I heard - you say, early this morning in your sleep, I should judge one will be - found.” - </p> - <p> - I thinks to myself maybe Freckles does do things in his sleep after all, - and from the looks of his face he thinks so, too. He is looking scared. - </p> - <p> - “Pa,” he says, “who did I kill? What did I say?” - </p> - <p> - “You said: 'Little Eva's dying! Little Eva's dying!'” said his father. “I - heard you say it over and over again in your sleep.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he gets red in the face again, and stares at his feet, and his - pa stands and grins at him for a minute or two. And then his pa says: “Get - into your weekday clothes and wash your face and neck to match your ears, - and come on down to breakfast. When you get ready to tell what's on your - mind, all right; but don't try to tell lies to your dad.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - But he looked mighty gloomy. And when his father went out of the room he - got his fountain pen and sucked some blood out of his loose tooth and - tried to spit it into his fountain pen. From which I judged he was still - of a notion to write that letter and was pretty low in his mind. But he - couldn't spit it into the pen, right. And he cried a little, and then saw - me watching him crying and slapped at me with a hairbrush; and then he - petted me and I let him pet me, for a dog, if he is any sort of dog at - all, will always stand by his boy in trouble as well as gladness, and - overlook things. A boy hasn't got much sense, anyhow; and a boy without a - dog to keep him steered right must have a pretty tough time in the world. - </p> - <p> - If he was low in his mind then, he was lower in his mind before the day - was through. For after breakfast there was Stevie Stevenson and Tom - Mulligan waiting for him outside, and in spite of his promise, Stevie has - told everything to Tom. And Tom has a wart and offers some wart blood to - write that letter in. But Freckles says another person's blood would not - be fair and honourable. He has a wart of his own, if he wanted to use wart - blood, but wart blood is not to be thought of. What would a lady think if - she found out it was wart blood? It would be almost and insult, wart blood - would; it would be as bad as blood from a corn or bunion. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Stevie, “the truth is that you don't want to write that - letter, anyhow. Last night you talked big about writing that letter, but - this morning you're hunting up excuses for not writing it.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll write it if I want to write it, and you can't stop me,” says - Freckles. “And I won't write it if I don't want to write it, and nobody of - your size can make me.” - </p> - <p> - “I can too stop you,” says Stevie, “if I want to.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't dast to want to stop me,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I do dast,” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - “You don't,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I do,” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - “You're a licked, licked liar—and so's your Aunt Mariar,” says - Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I ain't got any Aunt Mariar,” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - “You don't dast to have an Aunt Mariar,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I do dast,” says Stevie. - </p> - <p> - Then Tom put a chip on each of their shoulders, and pushed them at each - other, and the chips fell off, and they went down behind the barn and had - it out, and Freckles licked him. Which proves Freckles couldn't be stopped - from writing that note if he wanted to, and he was still so mad that he - wrote it right then and there back of the barn on a leaf torn out of a - notebook Tom Mulligan owned, with his fountain pen, using his own nose - bleed that Stevie had just drawed out of him; and he read out loud what he - wrote. It was: - </p> - <p> - <i>Dear Miss Little Eva: The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is - sweet and so are you. Yours truly. Mr. H. Watson. This is wrote in my own - blood.</i> - </p> - <p> - “Well, now, then,” says Stevie, “where's the coffin?” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, the coffin?” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Last night,” says Stevie, “you was makin' a lot of brags, but this - morning it looks like you didn't have the sand to act up to them.” - </p> - <p> - “If you think you've got size enough to make me lay down into a coffin - with that note,” says Freckles, “you got another think cornin' to you. - There ain't a kid my size, nor anywhere near my size, in this whole town - can make me lay down into a coffin with that note. And if you think so, - you just try it on!” - </p> - <p> - Stevie, he doesn't want to fight any more. But Tom Mulligan says never - mind the casket. Nobody really wants him to lay in a casket anyhow. He - says he is willing to bet a million dollars Freckles doesn't dast to carry - that note to the show grounds and give it to that Little Eva. - </p> - <p> - “I dast!” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Dastn't!” says Tom. - </p> - <p> - “You don't dast to knock this chip off my shoulder,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I dast!” says Tom. And Stevie give him a push, and he did it. And they - had it. Freckles got him down and jammed his head into the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” he says, “do I dast to carry that note, or don't I dast to?” - </p> - <p> - “You dast to,” says Tom. “Leave me up.” - </p> - <p> - And that was the way it come about that Freckles had to carry the note, - though not wanting to at all. But he did it. We all went with him over to - the show grounds, Stevie Stevenson and Tom Mulligan and Mutt, Tom's dog, - and me. - </p> - <p> - There was a lady sitting out in front of one of the tents on a chair. She - had been washing her hair, and it was spread out to dry over her - shoulders, and she was sewing on a pair of boy's pants. She had on a pair - of those big horn-rimmed glasses, and we could see from her hair, which - had gray in it, that she was quite an old lady, though small. I heard - later that she was all of thirty-five or thirty-six years old. - </p> - <p> - The rest of us hung back a little ways, and Freckles went up to her and - took off his hat. - </p> - <p> - She laid down her sewing and smiled at him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my little man, what is it?” she said. “Were you looking for - somebody?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, ma'am,” says Freckles. He stuttered a little and he was standing on - one foot. - </p> - <p> - “For whom?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “For Little Eva,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The lady stared at him, and then she smiled again. - </p> - <p> - “And what do you want with Little Eva, sonny?” she said. - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he stands on the other foot a while, and says nothing. And like - as not he would have backed away, but Tom Mulligan yells: “You don't dast - give it to her, Freck!” - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles hands her the letter and gulps and says: “A letter for Miss - Little Eva.” - </p> - <p> - The lady takes it and reads it. And then she reads it again. And then she - calls out: “Jim! Oh, Jim!” - </p> - <p> - A man comes out of the tent, and she hands it to him. He reads it, and his - mouth drops open, and a pipe he is smoking falls on to the grass. - </p> - <p> - “Jim,” says the lady, “someone is making love to your wife!” - </p> - <p> - Jim, he reads the letter again, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard he - bends double, and catches the back of the lady's chair. And she laughs of - a sudden and puts her hand in front of her face and laughs again. And then - Jim, he says to Freckles, who has been getting redder and redder: - </p> - <p> - “And who is Mr. H. Watson?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you get it?” says the lady, taking off her glasses to wipe them, - and pointing to Freckles. “This is the boy that owns the dog that played - the bloodhound last night, and <i>he</i> is Mr. H. Watson!” - </p> - <p> - And when she took off her glasses like that, we all saw she was the Little - Eva of that show! - </p> - <p> - “Mr. H. Watson,” says Jim to Freckles, “did you intend matrimony, or were - you trying to flirt?” - </p> - <p> - “Quit your kidding him, Jim,” says Little Eva, still laughing. “Can't you - see he's hacked nearly to death?” - </p> - <p> - “None of your business what I intended!” yells Freckles to Jim. And he - picks up a clod of dirt and nearly hits Jim with it, and runs. And we all - run. But when we had run half a block, we looked back, and nobody was - following us. Jim and Little Eva had busted out laughing again, and was - laughing so hard they was hanging on to each other to keep from falling - down. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, Mr. H. Watson,” yells Jim. “Is it really your own blood?” - </p> - <p> - And then began a time of disgrace for Freckles and me such as I never hope - to live through again. For the next thing those two boys that had been his - friends was both dancing round him laughing and calling him Mr. H. Watson; - and by the time we got down to the part of Main Street where the stores - are, every boy and every dog in town was dancing around Freckles and - hearing all about it and yelling, “H. Watson! Mr. H. Watson! Is it your - own blood? Is it your own blood, Mr. H. Watson?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles and I did the best we could, fighting all that was our size and - some bigger; but after a couple of hours it got so that most any one could - lick us. Kids that was afraid to stand up to him the day before could lick - him easy, by now, and dogs I had always despised even to argue with began - to get my number. All you could hear, on every side, was: “Is it your <i>own</i> - blood, Mr. Watson?” - </p> - <p> - And at noon we went home, but Freckles didn't go into the house for dinner - at all. Instead, he went out to the barn and laid down in the hay, and I - crawled in there with him. And he cried and cried and choked and choked. I - felt sorry for him, and crawled up and licked his face. But he took me by - the scruff of the neck and slung me out of the haymow. When I crawled back - again, he kicked me in the ribs, but he had on tennis shoes and it didn't - hurt much, and anyhow I forgave him. And I went and crawled back to where - he was and nuzzled my head up under his armpit. And then he cried harder - and hugged me and said I was the best dog in the world and the only friend - he ever had. - </p> - <p> - And then I licked his face again and he let me and we both felt better, - and pretty soon he went to sleep there and slept for an hour or so, with - his head on my ribs, and I lay there quiet so as not to wake him. Even - when a flea got me, I let that flea bite and didn't scratch for fear of - waking him. But after a while that flea got tired of me, and crawled over - on to Freckles, and he waked natural. And when he waked, he was hungry, - but he didn't want to go into the house for fear the story had spread to - the grown-ups and he would have to answer questions. So he found a couple - of raw turnips, and ate them, and a couple of apples, only they were - green, and he milked the cow a little into an old tin cup and drank that. - And in a little while he begins to have pains, and he thinks he is getting - heart's disease and is really going to die, but he says to himself out - loud if he dies now he won't get any credit for it, and he would have - enjoyed it more if he had died while he still thought Little Eva was young - and beautiful and probably going to marry him in the end. - </p> - <p> - But after awhile it seems turning from heart's disease into some kind of - stomach trouble; so he drinks some stuff out of a bottle that was left in - the barn last spring when Bessie, the old roan mare, had the colic, and - whether it is heart's disease or stomach trouble, that stuff cures him. - And him and me drift along downtown again to see if maybe the kids have - sort of begun to forget about it a little. - </p> - <p> - But they hadn't. It had even spread to some of the grown-ups. We went into - Freckles's father's drug store, and Mr. Watson told Freckles to step - around to the post office and ask for his mail. And the clerk in the post - office when we come in, looks at Freckles very solemn and says: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, here is Mr. H. Watson, after a letter! Will you have a letter written - in blood?” - </p> - <p> - So Freckles told his dad there wasn't any mail, and we sneaked along home - again. That night at supper I was lying on the porch just outside the - dining room and the doors were open, and I heard Freckles's dad say: - </p> - <p> - “Harold, would you like to go to the show to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Pa,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - His mother says that is funny; it is the first time she ever heard him - refuse to go to a show of any kind. And his father asks him if anything - special has happened that makes him want to stay away from this particular - show. I guess when his father says that, Freckles thinks his father is - wise, too, so he says he has changed his mind and will go to the show - after all. He didn't want to start any argument. - </p> - <p> - So him and me sneaks down to the show grounds again. It is getting dark, - but too early for the show, and every kid we know is hanging around - outside. And what Freckles has had to stand for in the way of kidding - beforehand is nothing to what comes now. For they all gets around him in a - ring and shouts: “Here is the bridegroom! Here is Mr. H. Watson come to - get married to Little Eva! And the wedding invitations are wrote in his - own blood! His own blood! His own blood!” - </p> - <p> - And the grown-ups beginning to go into the show all tell each other what - the kids are getting at, and we hear them laughing to each other about it. - Him and me was about the two downest-tail-and-head-hanging-est persons you - ever saw. But we stayed. There wasn't no place else to go, except home, - and we didn't want to go home and be asked again if there was any special - reason for staying away from that particular show. - </p> - <p> - And right in the midst of all the yelling and jostling around, a kid about - Freckles's size comes out of the show tent and walks over to the bunch and - says: - </p> - <p> - “Now, then, what's all this yelling about Little Eva for?” - </p> - <p> - All the kids shut up, and this show kid says to Freckles: - </p> - <p> - “Was they yelling bridegroom at <i>you?</i>” - </p> - <p> - Freckles, he was down, but he wasn't going to let any out-of-town boy get - away with anything, either. All our own gang had him licked and disgraced, - and he knew it; but this was a stranger, and so he spunked up. - </p> - <p> - “S'pose they was yelling bridegroom at me,” he says. “Ain't they got a - right to yell bridegroom at me if they want to? This is a free country.” - </p> - <p> - “You won't be yelled bridegroom at if I say you won't,” says the show kid. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be yelled bridegroom at for all of you,” says Freckles. “What's it - to you?” - </p> - <p> - “You won't be yelled bridegroom at about my mother,” saws the show kid. - </p> - <p> - “Who's being yelled bridegroom at about your mother?” says Freckles. “I'm - being yelled at about Little Eva.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says this kid, “Little Eva is my mother, and you got to stop - being yelled at about her.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “you just stop me being yelled at if you - think you're big enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I could lick two your size,” says the show kid. “But I won't fight here. - I won't fight in front of this crowd. If I was to fight here, your crowd - might jump into me, too, and I would maybe have to use brass knucks, and - if I was to use brass knucks, I would likely kill someone and be arrested - for it. I'll fight in private like a duel, as gentlemen ought to.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “if any one was to use brass knucks on me, I - would have to use brass knucks on them, and I won't fight any one that - uses brass knucks in private.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says the show kid, “my brass knucks is in my trunk in the - tent, and you don't dast to follow me and fight with bare fists.” - </p> - <p> - “My brass knucks is at home,” says Freckles, which was the first I knew he - ever had any, “and I do dast.” So each one searched the other for brass - knucks, and they went off together, me following. The fight was to be - under the bridge over the crick down by the school-house on the edge of - the woods. But when they got down there, the strip of sand by the side of - the crick was in shadow. So they went on top of the bridge, to fight in - the moonlight. But the moonlight was so bright they were afraid they would - be seen by some farmer coming into town and maybe told on and arrested. So - they sat down on the edge of the bridge with their feet hanging over and - talked about where they had better fight to be private, as gentlemen - should. And they got to talking of other things. And pretty soon they - began to kind of like each other, and Freckles says: - </p> - <p> - “What's your name?” - </p> - <p> - “Percy,” says the show kid. “But you better not call me that. I'd fight if - I was called that out of the family. Call me Spike. What's your name?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “1 don't like mine either; mine is Harold. - But call me Freckles.” - </p> - <p> - Spike says he wished he had more freckles himself. But he don't get much - chance for freckles, he says; his mother takes such awful good care of all - the complexions in their family. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says Freckles, “I think your mother is an awful nice lady.” - </p> - <p> - Spike, all of a sudden, bursts out crying then and says how would Freckles - like it if people wrote notes to <i>his</i> mother and was yelled at about - her? And Freckles says how would <i>he</i> like it if <i>he</i> was the - one was yelled at, and he never had any idea the lady was grown up and had - a family, and he got to sniffling some himself. - </p> - <p> - “Spike,” he says, “you tell your mother I take it all back. You tell her I - was in love with her till I seen her plain off the stage, and since I have - seen her and her family plain, I don't care two cents for her. And I'll - write her an apology for falling into love with her.” - </p> - <p> - Which he done it, then and there, in the moonlight, jabbing his fountain - pen into his wart, and it read: - </p> - <p> - <i>Dear Little Eva. Since I seen your husband and son I decided not to say - anything about matrimony, and beg your pardon for it. This is wrote in my - blood and sets you free to fall in love with who you please. You are older - and look different from what I expected, and so let us forget bygones.</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>Yours truly,</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>H. Watson.</i> - </p> - <p> - “Spike,” says Freckles, when they were walking back to town together, - chewing licorice and pretending it was tobacco, “do you really have some - brass knucks?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says Spike. “Do you, Freckles?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says Freckles. - </p> - <p> - And they went back to the tent together and asked the gang if they wanted - any of their game, and nobody did, and the disgrace lifted. - </p> - <p> - And I felt so good about that and the end of the love-affair and - everything, that right then and there I hunted up that Burning Deck dog - and give him the licking of his life, which I had never been able to do - before. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - -***** This file should be named 51917-h.htm or 51917-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/1/51917/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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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: The Revolt of the Oyster - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - -By Don Marquis - -Garden City, New York - -Doubleday, Page and Company - -1922 - - -[Illustration: 0010] - - - - -THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER - - -"_Our remote ancestor was probably arboreal."_--Eminent scientist. - - -From his hut in the tree-top Probably Arboreal looked lazily down -a broad vista, still strewn with fallen timber as the result of a -whirlwind that had once played havoc in that part of the forest, toward -the sea. Beyond the beach of hard white sand the water lay blue and vast -and scarcely ruffled by the light morning wind. All the world and his -wife were out fishing this fine day. Probably Arboreal could see dozens -of people from where he crouched, splashing in the water or moving about -the beach; and even hear their cries borne faintly to him on the breeze. -They fished, for the most part, with their hands; and when one caught -a fish it was his custom to eat it where he caught it, standing in the -sea. - -In Probably Arboreal's circle, one often bathed and breakfasted -simultaneously; if a shark or saurian were too quick for one, one -sometimes was breakfasted upon as one bathed. - -In the hut next to Probably Arboreal, his neighbour, Slightly Simian, -was having an argument with Mrs. Slightly, as usual. And, as usual, -it concerned the proper manner of bringing up the children. Probably -listened with the bored distaste of a bachelor. - -"I _will_ slap his feet every time he picks things up with them!" -screamed Slightly Simian's wife, an accredited shrew, in her shrill -falsetto.. - -"It's _natural_ for a child to use his feet that way," insisted the -good-natured Slightly, "and I don't intend to have the boy punished -for what's natural." Probably Arboreal grinned; he could fancy the -expression on Old Sim's face as his friend made this characteristically -plebeian plea. - -"You can understand once for all, Slightly," said that gentleman's wife -in a tone of finality, "that I intend to supervise the bringing-up of -these children. Just because your people had neither birth nor breeding -nor manners----" - -"Mrs. S.!" broke in Slightly, with a warning in his voice. "Don't you -work around to anything caudal, now, Mrs. S.! Or there'll be trouble. -You get me?" - -On one occasion Mrs. Slightly had twitted her spouse with the fact -that his grandfather had a tail five inches long; she had never done -so again. Slightly Simian himself, in his moments of excitement, picked -things up with his feet, but like many other men of humble origin who -have become personages in their maturity, he did not relish having such -faults commented upon. - -"Poor old Sim," mused Probably Arboreal, as he slid down the tree and -ambled toward the beach, to be out of range of the family quarrel. "She -married him for his property, and now she's sore on him because there -isn't more of it." - -Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasant effect of the quarrel, Probably -found his mind dwelling upon matrimony that morning. A girl with bright -red hair, into which she had tastefully braided a number of green -parrot feathers, hit him coquettishly between the shoulder blades with a -handful of wet sand and gravel as he went into the water. Ordinarily -he would either have taken no notice at all of her, or else would have -broken her wrist in a slow, dignified, manly sort of way. But this -morning he grabbed her tenderly by the hair and sentimentally ducked -her. When she was nearly drowned he released her. She came out of the -water squealing with rage like a wild-cat and bit him on the shoulder. - -"Parrot Feathers," he said to her, with an unwonted softness in his -eyes, as he clutched her by the throat and squeezed, "beware how you -trifle with a man's affections--some day I may take you seriously!" - -He let the girl squirm loose, and she scrambled out upon the beach and -threw shells and jagged pieces of flint at him, with an affectation of -coyness. He chased her, caught her by the hair again, and scored the wet -skin on her arms with a sharp stone, until she screamed with the pain, -and as he did it he hummed an old love tune, for to-day there was an -April gladness in his heart. - -"Probably! Probably Arboreal!" He spun around to face the girl's father, -Crooked Nose, who was contentedly munching a mullet. - -"Probably," said Crooked Nose, "you are flirting with my daughter!" - -"Father!" breathed the girl, ashamed of her parent's tactlessness. "How -can you say that!" - -"I want to know," said Crooked Nose, as sternly as a man can who -is masticating mullet, "whether your intentions are serious and -honourable." - -"Oh, father!" said Parrot Feathers again. And putting her hands in front -of her face to hide her blushes she ran off. Nevertheless, she paused -when a dozen feet away and threw a piece of drift-wood at Probably -Arboreal. It hit him on the shin, and as he rubbed the spot, watching -her disappear into the forest, he murmured aloud, "Now, I wonder what -she means by that!" - -"Means," said Crooked Nose. "Don't be an ass, Probably! Don't pretend -to _me_ you don't know what the child means. You made her love you. You -have exercised your arts of fascination on an innocent young girl, and -now you have the nerve to wonder what she means. What'll you give me for -her?" - -"See here, Crooked Nose," said Probably, "don't bluster with me." His -finer sensibilities were outraged. He did not intend to be _coerced_ -into matrimony by any father, even though he were pleased with that -father's daughter. "I'm not buying any wives to-day, Crooked Nose." - -"You have hurt her market value," said Crooked Nose, dropping his -domineering air, and affecting a willingness to reason. "Those marks -on her arms will not come off for weeks. And what man wants to marry a -scarred-up woman unless he has made the scars himself?" - -"Crooked Nose," said Probably Arboreal, angry at the whole world because -what might have been a youthful romance had been given such a sordid -turn by this disgusting father, "if you don't go away I will scar every -daughter you've got in your part of the woods. Do you get me?" - -"I wish you'd look them over," said Crooked Nose. "You might do worse -than marry all of them." - -"I'll marry none of them!" cried Probably, in a rage, and turned to go -into the sea again. - -A heavy boulder hurtled past his head. He whirled about and discovered -Crooked Nose in the act of recovering his balance after having flung -it. He caught the old man half way between the beach and the edge of -the forest. The clan, including Crooked Nose's four daughters, gathered -round in a ring to watch the fight. - -It was not much of a combat. When it was over, and the girls took -hold of what remained of their late parent to drag him into the woods, -Probably Arboreal stepped up to Parrot Feathers and laid his hand upon -her arm. - -"Feathers," he said, "now that there can be no question of coercion, -will you and your sisters marry me?" - -She turned toward him with a sobered face. Grief had turned her from a -girl into a woman. - -"Probably," she said, "you are only making this offer out of generosity. -It is not love that prompts it. I cannot accept. As for my sisters, they -must speak for themselves." - -"You are angry with me, Feathers?" - -The girl turned sadly away. Probably watched the funeral cortege winding -into the woods, and then went moodily back to the ocean. Now that she -had refused him, he desired her above all things. But how to win her? -He saw clearly that it could be no question of brute force. It had gone -beyond that. If he used force with her, it must infallibly remind her of -the unfortunate affair with her father. Some heroic action might attract -her to him again. Probably resolved to be a hero at the very earliest -opportunity. - -In the meantime he would breakfast. Breakfast had already been long -delayed; and it was as true then, far back in the dim dawn of time, as -it is now, that he who does not breakfast at some time during the day -must go hungry to bed at night. Once more Probably Arboreal stepped into -the ocean--stepped in without any premonition that he was to be a hero -indeed; that he was chosen by Fate, by Destiny, by the Presiding Genius -of this planet, by whatever force or intelligence you will, to champion -the cause of all Mankind in a crucial struggle for human supremacy. - -He waded into the water up to his waist, and bent forward with his arms -beneath the surface, patiently waiting. It was thus that our remote -ancestors fished. Fish ran larger in those days, as a rule. In the -deeper waters they were monstrous. The smaller fish therefore sought the -shallows where the big ones, greedy cannibals, could not follow them. A -man seldom stood in the sea as Probably Arboreal was doing more than -ten minutes without a fish brushing against him either accidentally or -because the fish thought the man was something good to eat. As soon as -a fish touched him, the man would grab for it. If he were clumsy and -missed too many fish, he starved to death. Experts survived because they -_were_ expert; by a natural process of weeding out the awkward it had -come about that men were marvellously adept. A bear who stands by the -edge of a river watching for salmon at the time of the year when they -rim up stream to spawn, and scoops them from the water with a deft -twitch of his paw, was not more quick or skillful than Probably -Arboreal. - -Suddenly he pitched forward, struggling; he gave a gurgling shout, and -his head disappeared beneath the water. - -When it came up again, he twisted toward the shore, with lashing arms -and something like panic on his face, and shouted: - -"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he cried. "Something has me by the foot!" - -Twenty or thirty men and women who heard the cry stopped fishing and -straightened up to look at him. - -"Help! Help!" he shouted again. "It is pulling me out to sea!" - -A knock-kneed old veteran, with long intelligent-looking mobile toes, -broke from the surf and scurried to the safety of the beach, raising the -cry: - -"A god! A god! A water-god has caught Probably Arboreal!" - -"More likely a devil!" cried Slightly Simian, who had followed Probably -to the water. - -And all his neighbours plunged to land and left Probably Arboreal to -his fate, whatever his fate was to be. But since spectacles are always -interesting, they sat down comfortably on the beach to see how long it -would be before Probably Arboreal disappeared. Gods and devils, sharks -and octopi, were forever grabbing one of their number and making off to -deep water with him to devour him at their leisure. If the thing that -dragged the man were seen, if it showed itself to be a shark or an -octopus, a shark or an octopus it was; if it were unseen, it got the -credit of being a god or a devil. - -"Help me!" begged Probably Arboreal, who was now holding his own, -although he was not able to pull himself into shallower water. "It is -not a god or a devil. It doesn't feel like one. And it isn't a shark, -because it hasn't any teeth. It is an animal like a cleft stick, and my -foot is in the cleft." - -But they did not help him. Instead, Big Mouth, a seer and _vers libre_ -poet of the day, smitten suddenly with an idea, raised a chant, and -presently all the others joined in. The chant went like this: - - "Probably, he killed Crooked Nose, - - He killed him with his fists. - - And Crooked Nose, he sent his ghost to sea - - To catch his slayer by the foot! - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the seal" - -"You are a liar, Big Mouth!" spluttered Probably Arboreal, hopping on -one foot and thrashing the water with his arms. "It is not a ghost; it -is an animal." - -But the chant kept up, growing louder and louder: - - "The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his - - slayer! - - Drown, drown, drown his slayer, - - Drown his slayer in the sea!" - -Out of the woods came running more and more people at the noise of the -chant. And as they caught what was going on, they took up the burden of -it, until hundreds and thousands of them were singing it. - -But, with a mighty turn and struggle, Probably Arboreal went under -again, as to his head and body; his feet for an instant swished into the -air, and everyone but Probably Arboreal himself saw what was hanging on -to one of them. - -It was neither ghost, shark, god, nor devil. It was a monstrous oyster; -a bull oyster, evidently. All oysters were much larger in those days -than they are now, but this oyster was a giant, a mastodon, a mammoth -among oysters, even for those days. - -"It is an oyster, an oyster, an oyster!" cried the crowd, as Probably -Arboreal's head and shoulders came out of the water again. - -Big Mouth, the poet, naturally chagrined, and hating to yield up his -dramatic idea, tried to raise another chant: - - "The ghost of Crooked Nose went into an - - oyster, - - The oyster caught his slayer by the foot - - To drown, drown, drown him in the sea!" - -But it didn't work. The world had seen that oyster, and had recognized -it for an oyster. - -"Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!" cried the crowd sternly at Big Mouth. - -The bard tried to persevere, but Slightly Simian, feeling the crowd with -him, advanced menacingly and said: - -"See here, Big Mouth, we know a ghost when we see one, and we know an -oyster! Yon animal is an oyster! You _sing_ that it is an oyster, or -shut up!" - -"_Ghost, ghost, ghost,_" chanted Big Mouth, tentatively. But he got -no farther. Slightly Simian killed him with a club, and the matter was -settled. Literary criticism was direct, straightforward, and effective -in those days. - -"But, oh, ye gods of the water, _what_ an oyster!" cried Mrs. Slightly -Simian. - -And as the thought took them all, a silence fell over the multitude. -They looked at the struggling man in a new community of idea. Oysters -they had seen before, but never an oyster like this. Oysters they knew -not as food; but they had always regarded them as rather ineffectual and -harmless creatures. Yet this bold oyster was actually giving battle, -and on equal terms, to a man! Were oysters henceforth to be added to -the number of man's enemies? Were oysters about to attempt to conquer -mankind? This oyster, was he the champion of the sea, sent up out of its -depths, to grapple with mankind for supremacy? - -Dimly, vaguely, as they watched the man attempt to pull the oyster -ashore, and the oyster attempt to pull the man out to sea, some sense of -the importance of this struggle was felt by mankind. Over forest, beach, -and ocean hung the sense of momentous things. A haze passed across the -face of the bright morning sun; the breeze died down; it was as if all -nature held her breath at this struggle. And if mankind upon the land -was interested, the sea was no less concerned. For, of sudden, and as -if by preconcerted signal, a hundred thousand oysters poked their heads -above the surface of the waters and turned their eyes--they had small -fiery opalescent eyes in those days--upon the combat. - -At this appearance, mankind drew back with a gasp, but no word was -uttered. The visible universe, perturbed earth and bending heavens -alike, was tense and dumb. On their part, the oysters made no attempt -to go to the assistance of their champion. Nor did mankind leap to the -rescue of Probably Arboreal. Tacitly, each side, in a spirit of fair -play, agreed not to interfere; agreed to leave the combat to the -champions; agreed to abide by the issue. - -But while they were stirred and held by the sense of tremendous things -impending, neither men nor oysters could be expected to understand -definitely what almost infinite things depended upon this battle. There -were no Darwins then. Evolution had not yet evolved the individual able -to catch her at it. - -But she was on her way. This very struggle was one of the crucial -moments in the history of evolution. There have always been these -critical periods when the two highest species in the world were about -equal in intelligence, and it was touch and go as to which would survive -and carry on the torch, and which species would lose the lead and become -subservient. There have always been exact instants when the spirit of -progress hesitated as between the forms of life, doubtful as to which -one to make its representative. - -Briefly, if the oyster conquered the man, more and more oysters, -emboldened by this success, would prey upon men. Man, in the course of a -few hundred thousand years, would become the creature of the oyster; -the oyster's slave and food. Then the highest type of life on the planet -would dwell in the sea. The civilization which was not yet would be -a marine growth when it did come; the intellectual and spiritual and -physical supremacy held by the biped would pass over to the bivalve. - -Thought could not frame this concept then; neither shellfish nor -tree-dweller uttered it. But both the species felt it; they watched -Probably Arboreal and the oyster with a strangling emotion, with a -quivering intentness, that was none the less poignant because there was -no Huxley or Spencer present to interpret it for them; they thrilled and -sweat and shivered with the shaken universe, and the red sun through its -haze peered down unwinking like the vast bloodshot eye of life. - -An hour had passed by in silence except for the sound of the battle, -more and more men and more and more oysters had gathered about the scene -of the struggle; the strain was telling on both champions. Probably -Arboreal had succeeded in dragging the beast some ten feet nearer the -shore, but the exertion had told upon him; he was growing tired; he was -breathing with difficulty; he had swallowed a great deal of salt water. -He too was dimly conscious of the importance of this frightful combat; -he felt himself the representative of the human race. He was desperate -but cool; he saved his breath; he opposed to the brute force of the -oyster the cunning of a man. But he was growing weaker; he felt it. - -If only those for whom he was fighting would fling him some word of -encouragement! He was too proud to ask it, but he felt bitterly that -he was not supported, for he could not realize what emotion had smitten -dumb his fellow men. He had got to the place where a word of spiritual -comfort and encouragement would have meant as much as fifty pounds of -weight in his favour. - -He had, in fact, arrived at the Psychological Moment. There were no -professing psychologists then; but there was psychology; and it worked -itself up into moments even as it does to-day. - -Probably Arboreal's head went under the water, tears and salt ocean -mingled nauseatingly in his mouth. - -"I am lost," he gurgled. - -But at that instant a shout went up--the shrill, high cry of a woman. -Even in his agony he recognized that voice--the voice of Parrot -Feathers! With a splendid rally he turned his face toward the shore. - -She was struggling through the crowd, fighting her way to the front -rank with the fury of a wildcat. She had just buried her father, and -the earth was still dark and damp upon her hands, but the magnificent -creature had only one thought now. She thought only of her lover, her -heroic lover; in her nobility of soul she had been able to rise above -the pettiness of spirit which another woman might have felt; she knew no -pique or spite. Her lover was in trouble, and her place was nigh him; so -she flung a false maidenly modesty to the winds and acknowledged him and -cheered him on, careless of what the assembled world might think. - -She arrived at the Psychological Moment. - -"Probably! Probably!" she cried. "Don't give up! Don't give up! For my -sake!" - -For her sake! The words were like fire in the veins of the struggling -hero. He made another bursting effort, and gained a yard. But the rally -had weakened him; the next instant his head went under the water once -more. Would it ever appear again? There was a long, long moment, while -all mankind strangled and gasped in sympathetic unison, and then our -hero's dripping head did emerge. It had hit a stone under water, and it -was bleeding, but it emerged. One eye was nearly closed. 4 + - -"Watch him! Watch him!" shouted Parrot Feathers. "Don't let him do that -again! When he has you under water he whacks your eye with his tail. -He's trying to blind you!" - -And, indeed, these seemed to be the desperate oyster's tactics. If he -could once destroy our hero's sight, the end would soon come. - -"Probably--do you hear me?" - -He nodded his head; he was beyond speech. - -"Take a long breath and dive! Do you get me? Dive! Dive at your own -feet! Grab your feet in your hands and roll under water in a bunch! Roll -toward the beach!"' - -It was a desperate manouvre, especially for a man who had already been -under water so much that morning. But the situation was critical and -called for the taking of big chances. It would either succeed--or fail. -And death was no surer if it failed than if he waited. Probably Arboreal -ceased to think; he yielded up his reasoning powers to the noble and -courageous woman on the sand; he dived and grabbed his feet and rolled. - -"Again! Again!" she cried. "Another long breath and roll again!" - -Her bosom heaved, as if she were actually breathing for him. To Probably -Arboreal, now all but drowned, and almost impervious to feeling, it also -seemed as if he were breathing with her lungs; and yet he hardly dared -to dive and roll again. He struggled in the water and stared at her -stupidly. - -She sent her unusual and electric personality thrilling into him across -the intervening distance; she held him with her eyes, and filled him -with her spirit. - -"Roll!" she commanded. "Probably! Roll!" - -And under the lash of her courage, he rolled again. Three more times he -rolled... and then... unconscious, but still breathing, he was in her -arms. - -As he reached the land half a million oysters sank into the sea in the -silence of defeat and despair, while from the beaches rose a mighty -shout. - -The sun, as if it gestured, flung the mists from its face, and beamed -benignly. - -"Back! Back! Give him air!" cried Parrot Feathers, as she addressed -herself to the task of removing the oyster from his foot. - -The giant beast was dying, and its jaws were locked in the rigour of its -suffering. There was no way to remove it gently. Parrot Feathers laid -her unconscious hero's foot upon one rock, and broke the oyster loose -with another. - -Incidentally she smashed Probably Arboreal's toe. - -He sat up in pained surprise. Unthinkingly, as you or I would put a hurt -finger into our mouths, he put his crushed toe into his mouth. At that -period of man's history the trick was not difficult. And then---- - -A beatific smile spread over his face! - -Man had tasted the oyster! - -In half an hour, mankind was plunging into the waves searching for -oysters. The oyster's doom was sealed. His monstrous pretension that he -belonged in the van of evolutionary progress was killed forever. He had -been tasted, and found food. He would never again battle for supremacy. -Meekly he yielded to his fate. He is food to this day. - -Parrot Feathers and Probably Arboreal were married after breakfast. -On the toes of their first child were ten cunning, diminutive oyster -shells. Mankind, up to that time, had had sharp toenails like the -claws of birds. But the flat, shell-like toenails, the symbols of man's -triumph over, and trampling down of, the oyster were inherited from the -children of this happy couple. - -They persist to this day. - - - - -"IF WE COULD ONLY SEE" - - -I - -Lunch finished, Mr. Ferdinand Wimple, the poet, sullenly removed his -coat and sulkily carried the dishes to the kitchen sink. He swore in a -melodious murmur, as a cat purrs, as he turned the hot water on to the -plates, and he splashed profanely with a wet dishcloth. - -"I'm going to do the dishes to-day, Ferd," announced his wife, -pleasantly enough. She was a not unpleasant-looking woman; she gave -the impression that she might, indeed, be a distinctly pleasant-looking -woman, if she could avoid seeming hurried. She would have been a pretty -woman, in fact, if she had been able to give the time to it. - -When she said that she would do the dishes herself, Mr. Wimple -immediately let the dishcloth drop without another word, profane or -otherwise, and began to dry his hands, preparatory to putting on his -coat again. But she continued: - -"I want you to do the twins' wash." - -"What?" cried Mr. Wimple, outraged. He ran one of his plump hands -through his thick tawny hair and stared at his wife with latent hatred -in his brown eyes... those eyes of which so many women had remarked: -"Aren't Mr. Wimple's eyes wonderful; just simply _wonderful!_ So -magnetic, if you get what I mean!" Mr. Wimple's head, by many of his -female admirers, was spoken of as "leonine." His detractors--for who has -them not?--dwelt rather upon the physical reminder of Mr.'Wimple, which -was more suggestive of the ox. - -"I said I wanted you to do the twins' wash for me," repeated Mrs. -Wimple, awed neither by the lion's visage nor the bovine torso. Mrs. -Wimple's own hair was red; and in a quietly red-haired sort of way she -looked as if she expected her words to be heeded. - -"H----!" said the poet, in a round baritone which enriched the ear as -if a harpist had plucked the lovely string of G. "H----!" But there was -more music than resolution in the sound. It floated somewhat tentatively -upon the air. Mr. Wimple was not in revolt. He was wondering if he had -the courage to revolt. - -Mrs. Wimple lifted the cover of the laundry tub, which stood beside the -sink, threw in the babies' "things," turned on the hot water, and said: - -"Better shave some laundry soap and throw it in, Ferd." - -"Heavens!" declared Mr. Wimple. "To expect a man of my temperament to do -that!" But still he did not say that he would not do it. - -"Someone has to do it," contributed his wife. - -"I never kicked on the dishes, Nell," said Mr. Wimple. "But this, _this_ -is too much!" - -"I have been doing it for ten days, ever since the maid left. I'm -feeling rotten to-day, and you can take a turn at it, Ferd. My back -hurts." Still Mrs. Wimple was not unpleasant; but she was obviously -determined. - -"Your back!" sang Mr. Wimple, the minstrel, and shook his mane. "Your -_back_ hurts you! My _soul_ hurts _me!_ How could I go direct from -that--that damnable occupation--that most repulsive of domestic -occupations--that bourgeois occupation--to Mrs. Watson's tea this -afternoon and deliver my message?" - -A shimmer of heat (perhaps from her hair) suddenly dried up whatever dew -of pleasantness remained in Mrs. Wimple's manner. "They're just as much -your twins as they are mine," she began... but just then one of them -cried. - -A fraction of a second later the other one cried. - -Mrs. Wimple hurried from the kitchen and reached the living room in time -to prevent mayhem. The twins, aged one year, were painfully entangled -with one another on the floor. The twin Ronald had conceived the idea -that perhaps the twin Dugald's thumb was edible, and was testing five or -six of his newly acquired teeth upon it. Childe Dugald had been inspired -by his daemon with the notion that one of Childe Ronald's ears might be -detachable, and was endeavouring to detach it. The situation was but too -evidently distressing to both of them, but neither seemed capable of the -mental initiative necessary to end it. Even when little Ronald opened -his mouth to scream, little Dugald did not remove the thumb. - -Mrs. Wimple unscrambled them, wiped their noses, gave them rattles, -rubber dolls, and goats to wreak themselves upon, and returned to the -kitchen thinking (for she did not lack her humorous gleams) that the -situation in the living room bore a certain resemblance to the situation -in the kitchen. She and Ferdinand bit and scratched figuratively, but -they had not the initiative to break loose from one another. - -Mr. Wimple was shaving soap into the laundry tub, but he stopped when -she entered and sang at her: "And _why_ did the maid leave?" - -"You know why she left, Ferd." - -"She left," chanted Ferdinand, poking the twins' clothing viciously with -a wooden paddle, "because..." But what Mr. Wimple said, and the way he -said it, falls naturally into the freer sort of verse: - - "She left [sang Mr. Wimple] - - Because her discontent... - - Her individual discontent, - - Which is a part of the current general discontent - - Of all the labouring classes... - - Was constantly aggravated - - By your jarring personality, - - Mrs. Wimple! - - There is no harmony in this house, - - Mrs. Wimple; - - No harmony!" - -Mrs. Wimple replied in sordid prose: - -"She left because she was offered more money elsewhere, and we couldn't -afford to meet the difference." Something like a sob vibrated through -Mr. Wimple's opulent voice as he rejoined: - -"Nellie, that is a blow that I did not look for! You have stabbed me -with a poisoned weapon! Yes, Nellie, I _am_ poor! So was Edgar Poe. What -the world calls poor! I shall, in all likelihood, never be rich... what -the world calls rich. But I have my art! I have my ideals! I have my -inner life! I have my dreams! Poor? Poor? Yes, Nell! Poor! So was Robert -Burns! I am poor! I make no compromise with the mob. Nor shall I ever -debase my gift for money. No! Such as I am, I shall bear the torch that -has been intrusted to me till I fall fainting at the goal! I have a -message. To me it is precious stuff, and I shall not alloy it with the -dross called gold. Poor? Yes, Nell! And you have the heart to cast it -in my teeth! You, Nellie! You, from whom I once expected sympathy and -understanding. You, whom I chose from all the world, and took into my -life because I fancied that you, too, saw the vision! Yes, Elinor, I -dreamed _that_ once!" - - -II - -Mr. Wimple achieved pathos... almost tragedy. To a trivial mind, -however, the effect might have been somewhat spoiled by the fact that -in his fervour he gesticulated wildly with the wooden paddle in one -hand and an undergarment belonging to Ronald in the other. The truly -sensitive soul would have seen these things as emphasizing his pathos. - -Mrs. Wimple, when Mr. Wimple became lyric in his utterance, often had -the perverse impulse to answer him in a slangy vernacular which, if -not actually coarse, was not, on the other hand, the dialect of the -aesthete. For some months now, she had noticed, whenever Ferdinand took -out his soul and petted it verbally, she had had the desire to lacerate -it with uncouth parts of speech. Ordinarily she frowned on slang; but -when Ferdinand's soul leaped into the arena she found slang a weapon -strangely facile to her clutch. - -"Coming down to brass tacks on this money thing, Ferdy," said Mrs. -Wimple, "you're not the downy peach you picture in the ads. I'll tell -the world you're not! You kid yourself, Ferdy. Some of your bloom has -been removed, Ferdy. Don't go so far upstage when you speak to me about -the dross the world calls gold. The reason we can't afford a maid now -is because you got swell-headed and kicked over that perfectly good -magazine job you used to have. You thought you were going to get more -limelight and more money on the lecture platform. But you've been a -flivver in the big time. Your message sounds better to a flock of women -in somebody's sitting room full of shaded candles and samovars, with -firelight on the antique junk, than it does in Carnegie Hall. You've got -the voice for the big spaces all right, but the multitude doesn't -get any loaves and fishes from you. Punk sticks and _nuances_ ---the _intime_ stuff--that's your speed, Ferdy. I don't want to put any -useless dents into your bean, but that message of yours has been hinted -at by other messengers. 1 stick around home here and take care of the -kids, and I've never let out a yell before. And you trot around to your -soul fights and tea fests and feed your message to a bunch of dolled-up -dames that don't even know you have a wife. I'm not jealous... you -couldn't drag me into one of those perfumed literary dives by the hair -... I got fed up with that stuff years ago. But as long as we're without -a maid because you won't stick to a steady job, you'll do your share of -the rough stuff around the house. I'll say you will! You used to be a -good sport about that sort of thing, Ferdy, but it looks to me as if -you were getting spoiled rotten. You've had a rush of soul to the mouth, -Ferdy. Those talcum-powder seances of yours have gone to your head. You -take those orgies of refinement too seriously. You begin to look to me -like you had a streak of yellow in you, Ferdy... and if I ever see -it so plain I'm sure of it, I'll leave you flat. I'll quit you, Ferdy, -twins and all." - -"Quit, then!" cried Mr. Wimple. - -And then the harplike voice burst into song again, an offering rich with -rage: - - "Woman! - - So help me all the gods, - - I'm through! - - Twins or no twins, - - Elinor Wimple, - - I'm through! - - By all the gods, - - I'll never wash another dish, - - Nor yet another set of underwear!" - -And Mr. Wimple, in his heat, brought down the wooden paddle upon the -pile of dishes in the sink, in front of his wife. The crash of the -broken china seemed to augment his rage, rather than relieve it, and he -raised the paddle for a second blow. - -"Ferd!" cried his wife, and caught at the stick. - -Mr. Wimple, the aesthete, grabbed her by the arm and strove to loosen -her grasp upon the paddle. - -"You're bruising my arm!" she cried. But she did not release the stick. -Neither did Ferdinand release her wrist. Perhaps he twisted it all the -harder because she struggled, and was not conscious that he was doing -so... perhaps he twisted it harder quite consciously. At any rate, she -suddenly swung upon him, with her free hand, and slapped him across the -face with her wet dishcloth. - -At that they started apart, both more than a little appalled to realize -that they had been engaged in something resembling a fight. - -Without another word the bird of song withdrew to smooth his ruffled -plumage. He dressed himself carefully, and left the apartment without -speaking to his wife again. He felt that he had not had altogether the -best of the argument. There was no taste of soap in his mouth, for -he had washed his lips and even brushed his teeth... and yet, -psychically, as he might have said himself, he still tasted that -dishcloth. - -But he had not walked far before some of his complacence returned. He -removed his hat and ran his fingers through his interesting hair, and -began to murmur lyrically: - - "By Jove! - - I have a way with women! - - There must be something of the Cave Man in me - - Yes, something of the primeval!" - -In his pocket was a little book of his own poems, bound in green and -gold. As he had remarked to Mrs. Wimple, he was to deliver his message -that afternoon. - - -III - -Mrs. Watson's apartment (to which Ferdinand betook himself after idling -a couple of hours at his club) was toward the top of a tall building -which overlooked great fields of city. It was but three blocks distant -from Ferdinand's own humbler apartment, in uptown New York, but it was -large, and... well, Mr. - -Wimple calculated, harbouring the sordid thought for an instant, that -the rent must cost her seven or eight, thousand dollars a year. - -Mrs. Watson's life was delicately scented with an attar of expense. She -would not drench her rooms or her existence with wealth, any more than -she would spill perfume upon her garments with a careless hand. But the -sensitive' nostrils of the aesthetic Mr. Wimple quivered in reaction to -the aroma. For a person who despised gold, as Mr. Wimple professed to -despise it, he was strangely unrepelled. Perhaps he thought it to be his -spiritual duty to purify this atmosphere with his message. - -There were eighteen or twenty women there when Ferdinand arrived, and -no man... except a weakeyed captive husband or two, and an epicene -creature with a violin, if you want to call them men. Ferdinand, -with his bovine body and his leonine head, seemed almost startlingly -masculine in this assemblage, and felt so. His spirit, he had often -confessed, was an instrument that vibrated best in unison with the -subtle feminine soul; he felt it play upon him and woo him, with little -winds that ran their fingers through his hair. These were women who had -no occupation, and a number of them had money; they felt delightfully -cultivated when persons such as Ferdinand talked to them about the Soul. -They warmed, they expanded, half unconsciously they projected those -breaths and breezes which thrilled our Ferdinand and wrought upon his -mood. If a woman, idle and mature, cannot find romance anywhere else or -anyhow other she will pick upon a preacher or an artist. - -Mrs. Watson collected Ferdinands. Just how seriously she took them--how -she regarded himself, specifically--Mr. Wimple could not be quite -certain. - -"She is a woman of mystery," Mr. Wimple often murmured to himself. And -he wondered a good deal about her... sometimes he wondered if she were -not in love with him. - -He had once written to her, a poem, which he entitled "Mystery." She -had let him see that she understood it, but she had not vouchsafed a -solution of herself. It might be possible, Ferdinand thought, that she -did _not_ love him... but she sympathized with him; she appreciated -him; she had even fallen into a dreamy sadness one day, at the thought -of how he must suffer from the disharmony in his home. For somehow, -without much having been said by one or by the other, the knowledge had -passed from Ferdinand to Mrs. Watson that there was not harmony in his -home. She had understood. They had looked at each other, and she had -understood. - -"Alethea!" he had murmured, under his breath. Alethea was her name. He -was sure she had heard it; but she had neither accepted it from him, nor -rejected it. And he had gone away without quite daring to say it again -in a louder tone. - -There was only one thing about her that sometimes jarred upon Mr. -Wimple... a sudden vein of levity. Sometimes Ferdinand, in his thoughts, -even accused her of irony. And he was vaguely distrustful of a sense -of the humorous in women; whether it took the form of a feeling for -nonsense or a talent for sarcasm, it worried him. - -But she understood. She always understood... him and his message. - -And this afternoon she seemed to be understanding him, to be absorbing -him and his message, with an increased sensitiveness. She regarded him -with a new intentness, he thought; she was taking him with an expanded -spiritual capacity. - -It was after the music, and what a creature overladen with "art jewelry" -called "the eats," harrowing Ferdinand with the vulgar word, that he -delivered his message, sitting not far from Mrs. Watson in the carefully -graduated light. - -It was, upon the whole, a cheerful message, Ferdinand's. It was... -succinctly... Love. - -Ferdinand was not pessimistic or cynical about Love. It was all around -us, he thought, if we could only see it, could only feel it, could only -open our beings for its reception. - -"If we could only see into the hearts! If we could only see into the -homes!" said Ferdinand. If we could only see, it was Ferdinand's belief, -we should see Love there, unexpected treasures of Love, waiting dormant -for the arousing touch; slumbering, as Endymion slumbered, until Diana's -kiss awakened him. - -"Mush!" muttered one of the captive husbands to the young violinist. -But the young violinist scowled; he was in accord with Ferdinand. "Mush, -slush, and gush!" whispered the first captive husband to the second -captive husband. But captive husband number two only nodded and grinned -in an idiotic way; he was lucky enough to be quite deaf, and no matter -where his wife took him he could sit and think of his Liberty Bonds, -without being bothered by the lion of the hour.... - -The world, Ferdinand went on, was trembling on the verge of a great -spiritual awakening. The Millennium was about to stoop and kiss it, as -Morning kissed the mountain tops. It was coming soon. Already the first -faint streaks of the new dawn were in the orient sky... for eyes that -could see them. Ah, if one could only see! In more and more bosoms, the -world around, Love was becoming conscious of itself, Love was beginning -to understand that there was love in other bosoms, too! At this point, -at least a dozen bosoms, among those bosoms present, heaved with sighs. -Heart was reaching out to Heart in a new confidence, Ferdinand said. -One knew what was in one's own heart; but hitherto one had often been so -blind that one did not realize that the same thing was in the hearts of -one's fellows. Ah, if one could only see! - -Maeterlinck saw, Ferdinand said. - -"Ah, Maeterlinck!" whispered the bosoms. - -Yes, Maeterlinck saw, said Ferdinand. Nietzsche, said Ferdinand, had -possessed a bosom full of yearning for all humanity, but he had been -driven back upon himself and embittered by the world... by the German -world in which he lived, said Ferdinand. So Nietzsche's strength had -little sweetness in it, and Nietzsche had not lived to see the new light -in the orient sky. - -"Ah, Nietzsche!" moaned several sympathetic bosoms. - -Bergson knew, Ferdinand opined. Several of the women present did not -quite catch the connection between Bergson and Ferdinand's message, but -they assumed that everyone else caught it. Bergson's was a name they -knew and... and in a moment Ferdinand was on more familiar ground -again. Tagore knew, said Ferdinand. - -"Ah, Rabindranath Tagore!" And the bosoms fluttered as doves flutter -when they coo and settle upon the eaves. Love! That was Ferdinand's -message. And it appeared from the remarks with which he introduced and -interspersed his own poems, that all the really brilliant men of the day -were thinking in harmony with Ferdinand. He had the gift of introducing -a celebrated name every now and then in such a manner that these women, -who were at least familiar with the names, actually felt that they were -also familiar with the work for which the names stood. And, for his -part, he was repaid, this afternoon, as he had never been repaid before -... never before had he been so wrought upon and electrically vivified -as to-day by these emanations of the feminine soul; never before had he -felt these little winds run their fingers through his hair with such -a caressing touch. Once or twice the poignancy of the sensation almost -unsteadied him for an instant. And never before had Mrs. Watson regarded -him with such singular intentness. - -Love! That was Ferdinand's message! And, ah! if one could only see! - -When the others were going, Mrs. Watson asked him to stay a while, and -Ferdinand stayed. She led him to a little sitting room, high above the -town, and stood by the window. And he stood beside her. - -"Your message this afternoon," she said, presently, "I enjoyed more than -anything I have ever heard you say before. If we could only see! If we -could only see!" - -Mrs. Watson lifted her blue eyes to him... and for an instant Ferdinand -felt that she was more the woman of mystery than ever. For there lurked -within the eyes an equivocal ripple of light; an unsteady glint that -came and went. Had it not been for her words, Ferdinand might have -feared that she was about to break into one of her disconcerting -ebullitions of levity. But he perceived in her, at the same time, a -certain tension, an unusual strain, and was reassured... she was a -little strange, perhaps, because of his near presence. She was reacting -to the magnetism which was flowing out of him in great waves, and she -was striving to conceal from him her psychic excitement. That would -account for any strangeness in her manner, any constraint. - -"If we could only see!" she repeated. - -"_You_ always see," hazarded Ferdinand. - -"I sometimes see," said Mrs. Watson. "I have sometimes seen more than it -was intended for me to see." - -What could she mean by that? Ferdinand asked himself. And for an instant -he was unpleasantly conscious again of the something ambiguous in her -mood. Suddenly she turned and switched on the electric light in the -room, and then went and stood by the window again. Ferdinand's psychic -feathers were a trifle rumpled by the action. It was growing dusk... -but he would have liked to talk to her in the twilight, looking out over -the roofs. - -"If we could only see into the hearts ... into the homes," she mused -yet again. - -"If you could see into my heart now ... Alethea..." - -He left the sentence unfinished. She did not look at him. She turned her -face so he could not see it. - -He tried to take her hand. But she avoided that, without actually -moving, without giving ground... as a boxer in the ring may escape the -full effect of a blow he does not parry by shrugging it off, without -retreating. - -After a moment's silence she said: "Ferdinand..." and paused.... - -He felt sure of her, then. He drew a long breath. He wished they were -not standing by that window, framed in it, with the lighted room behind -them... but since she _would_ stand there... anyhow, now was the -time.... - -And then he heard himself pleading with her, eloquently, fervently. She -was his ideal! She was... he hated the word "affinity," because it -had been cheapened and vulgarized by gross contacts... but she _was_ his -affinity. They were made for one another. It was predestined that they -should meet and love. She was what he needed to complete him, to fulfill -him. They would go forth together... not into the world, but away from -it... they would dwell upon the heights, and... and... so forth. - -Ferdinand, as he pleaded, perhaps thought nothing consciously of the -fact that she must be spending money at the rate of fifty or sixty -thousand dollars a year. But, nevertheless, that subconscious mind of -his, of which he had so often spoken, that subliminal self, must have -been considering the figures, for suddenly there flashed before his -inner eye the result of a mathematical calculation..._ fifty thousand -dollars a year is the interest on one million dollars at five per cent_. -Ah, that would make his dreams possible! How his service to the human -race might be increased in value if all his time could be but given to -carrying his message! Farewell to the sordid struggle for bread! And in -the poetic depths of him there moved, unuttered, a phrase which he had -spoken aloud earlier in the day: _"I shall never wash another dish, nor -yet another undergarment_." This secondary line of thought, however, did -not interfere with the lyric passion of his speech. - -"You are asking me to... to... _elope_ with you!" - -She still drooped her head, but she let him feel her nearness. He -wished--how he wished!--that they were away from that window. But he -would not break the spell by suggesting that they move. Perhaps he could -not reestablish it. - -"Elope?" Ferdinand critically considered the word. - -"I want you to come away with me, Alethea, into Paradise. I want you to -help me rediscover Eden! I want you! I want you!" - -"But... your family?" she murmured. - -He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. "That episode, -that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended," said -Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand. - -"Ah! Ended?" said Mrs. Watson. "You are no longer living with your -wife? The marriage is dissolved?" Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been -dissolved for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had -never taken the trouble to inquire. - -"In the spiritual sense--and that is all that counts--dissolved," said -Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: "To-day." - -Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and -put her head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried -"Victory!" he was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to -take her in his arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. -He stood in perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he -heard muffled sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, -or... - -No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What? - -Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her -laughter. - -"Excuse me," said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in -her eyes, "but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to -tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had -better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can -never touch anything but the interest, you know." - -"Alethea," said Ferdinand, chokingly, "such a thought at a time like -this is unworthy of both of us!" And he advanced toward her again. But -she stopped him. - -"Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I -wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do -our own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my -arm until I howled!" - -As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of -vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a -chair. - -"Get up!" said Mrs. Watson, with a cold little silver tinkle of a laugh. -"I didn't ask you to sit down!" - -Ferdinand got up. - -"I don't spy on my neighbours as a rule," continued Mrs. Watson, "but -a little after noon to-day I happened to be standing by this window -looking out over the town, and this pair of opera glasses happened to be -on the table there and... well, take them, you oaf! You fat fool! And -look at that window, down there! It's your own kitchen window!" - -Ferdinand took them and looked... he was crushed and speechless, and he -obeyed mechanically. - -He dropped the glasses with a gasp. He had not only seen into his own -kitchen window, lighted as this one was, but he had seen Nell there... -and, as perverse fate would have it, some whim had inspired Nell to take -her own opera glasses and look out over the city. She was standing there -with them now. Had she seen him a moment before, with Mrs. Watson's head -upon his shoulder? - -He started out. - -"Wait a moment," said Mrs. Watson. Ferdinand stopped. He still seemed -oddly without volition. It reminded him of what he had heard about -certain men suffering from shell shock. - -"There... I wanted to do that before you went," said Mrs. Watson, and -slapped him across the face. And Ferdinand's soul registered once more -the flavour of a damp dishcloth. "It's the second time a woman has -slapped you to-day," said Mrs. Watson. "Try and finish the rest of the -day without getting a third one. You can go now." - -Ferdinand went. He reached the street, and walked several blocks in -silence. Neither his voice nor his assurance seemed to be inclined to -return to him speedily. His voice came back first, with a little of his -complacence, after fifteen or twenty minutes. And: - -"Hell!" said Ferdinand, in his rich, harplike voice, running his fingers -through his tawny hair. "Hell!" - - - - -HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE - - -_AUTHOR'S NOTE--Another version of this story appeared in a book -entitled "Danny's Own Story," published in 1912 by Doubleday, Page & -Co._ - - -I'm not so sure about Prohibition and pledges and such things holding -back a man that has got the liquor idea in his head. If meanness is in -a man, it usually stays in him, in spite of all the pledges he signs and -the promises he makes. - -About the meanest man I ever knew was Hank Walters, a blacksmith in a -little town in Illinois, the meanest and the whiskey-drinkingest. And I -had a chance to know him well, for he and his wife Elmira brought me up. -Somebody left me on their doorstep in a basket when I was a baby, and -they took me in and raised me. I reckon they took me in so they could -quarrel about me. They'd lived together a good many years and quarrelled -about everything else under the sun, and were running out of topics to -row over. A new topic of dissension sort of briskened things up for a -while. - -Not having any kids of his own to lick, Hank lambasted me when he was -drunk and whaled me when he was sober. It was a change from licking -his wife, I suppose. A man like Hank has just naturally got to have -something he can cuss around and boss, so as to keep himself from -finding out he don't amount to anything... although he must have known -he didn't, too, way down deep in his inmost gizzards. - -So I was unhappy when I was a kid, but not knowing anything else I never -found out exactly how unhappy I was. There were worse places to live -in than that little town, and there was one thing in our house that I -always admired when I was a kid. That was a big cistern. Most people -had their cisterns outside their houses, but ours was right in under our -kitchen floor, and there was a trap door with leather hinges opened into -it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so proud of it. -It was because the cistern was full of fish--bullheads and redhorse and -sunfish and pickerel. - -Hank's father built the cistern. And one time he brought home some live -fish in a bucket and dumped them in there. And they grew. And multiplied -and refurnished the earth, as the Good Book says. That cistern full of -fish had got to be a family custom. It was a comfort to Hank, for all -the Walterses were great fish eaters, though it never went to brains -any. We fed 'em now and then, and threw the little ones back in until -they were grown, and kept the dead ones picked out as soon as we smelled -anything wrong, and it never hurt the water any; and when I was a kid I -wouldn't have taken anything for living in a house like that. - -One time when I was a kid about six years old Hank came home drunk from -Bill Nolan's barroom, and got to chasing Elmira's cat, because he said -it was making faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. -Elmira wasn't at home, and I was scared. Elmira had always told me not -to fool around that cistern door any when I was a kid, for if I fell in -there, she said, I'd be a corpse, quicker'n scatt. - -So when Hank fell in and I heard him splash, being such a little fellow -and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I supposed -that Hank was probably a corpse already. I slammed the door shut over -the cistern without looking in, for I heard Hank flopping around down -there. I hadn't ever heard a corpse flop before and didn't know but -what it might be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take any -chances. - -I went out and played in the front yard and waited for Elmira. But -I couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, or -anything. I kept thinking of Hank being a corpse down in that cistern. -And maybe that corpse is going to come flopping out pretty soon, I -thought to myself, and lick me in some new and unusual way. I hadn't -ever been licked by a corpse. Being young and innocent, I didn't rightly -know what a corpse is, except I had the idea there was something about a -corpse that kept them from being popular. - -So after a while I sneaked back into the house and set all the flatirons -on top of the cistern lid. I heard some flopping and splashing and -fluttering, as if that corpse was trying to jump up and was falling back -into the water, and I heard Hank's voice, and got scareder and scareder. -When Elmira came along down the road she saw me by the gate crying and -blubbering, and she asked me why. - -"Hank is a corpse!" says I. - -"A corpse!" says Elmira, dropping the pound of coffee she was carrying -home from the general store and post-office. "Danny, what do you mean?" - -I saw then I was to blame somehow, and I wished I hadn't said anything -about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say anything -more. So when she grabbed hold of me and asked me again what I meant I -blubbered harder, as a kid will, and said nothing. I wished I hadn't set -those flatirons on the cistern lid, for it came to me all at once that -even if Hank had turned into a corpse I hadn't any right to keep him in -the cistern. - -Just then old Mis' Rogers, one of our neighbours, came by, while Elmira -was shaking me and yelling at me and asking how it happened, and had I -seen it, and where was Hank's corpse. - -"What's Danny been doing now?" asked Mis' Rogers--me being always up to -something. - -Elmira turned and saw her and gave a whoop and hollered out: "Hank is -dead!" And she threw her apron over her head and sat right down in -the path and boo-hooed like a baby. And I bellered and howled all the -louder. - -Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ask anything more. She saw she had -a piece of news, and she wanted to be the first to spread it. She ran -right across the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, -she saw her coming and unhooked the screen door and Mis' Rogers hollered -out before she reached the porch: "Hank Walters is dead!" - -And then she went footing it up the street. There was a black plume on -her bonnet, nodding the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of -seven front yards in less than five minutes. - -Mis' Alexander she ran across the road to where we were, and kneeled -down and put her arm around Elmira, who was still rocking back and forth -in the path, and she said: - -"How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I saw him not more than an hour -ago." - -"Danny saw it all," says Elmira. - -Mis' Alexander turned to me and wanted to know what happened and how it -happened and where it happened. But I didn't want to say anything about -that cistern. So I busted out crying all over again and I said: "He was -drunk and he came home drunk and he did it then, and that's how he did -it." - -"And you saw him?" she asked. - -I nodded. - -"Where is he?" says she and Elmira, both together. - -But I was scared to say anything about that cistern, so I just bawled -some more. - -"Was it in the blacksmith shop?" asks Mis' Alexander. - -I nodded my head again, and let it go at that. - -"Is he in there now?" she wants to know. - -I nodded again. I hadn't meant to give out any untrue stories. But a kid -will always lie, not meaning particular to lie, if you sort of invite -him with questions like that, and get him scared by the way you're -acting. Besides, I says to myself, so long as Hank has turned into a -corpse, and being a corpse makes him dead, what's the difference whether -he's in the blacksmith shop or in the cistern? I hadn't had any plain -idea before that being a corpse meant the same thing as being dead. And -I wasn't any too sure what being dead was like, either. Except I -knew they had funerals over you then. I knew being a corpse must be a -disadvantage from the way that Elmira has always said to keep away from -that cistern, or I'd be one. And I began to see the whole thing was more -important even than I had figured it was at first. I wondered if there'd -be a funeral at our house. If there was one, that would be fine. They -didn't have them every day in our town, and we hadn't ever had one of -our own. - -Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis' -Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a-tagging along behind holding -on to Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all -those women that Mis' Rogers had told came filing into the house, one -at a time, looking sad and mournful. Only old Mis' Primrose, she was a -little late getting there, because she stopped to put on the dress she -always wore to funerals, with the black Paris lace on to it that her -cousin Arminty White had sent her from Chicago. - -When they found out that Hank had come home with liquor in him and done -it himself they were all excited and they all crowded around and asked -me questions, except two that were holding Elmira's hands where she sat -moaning in a chair. And those questions scared me and egged me on to -lies I hadn't had any idea of telling. - -Says one woman: "Danny, you saw him do it in the blacksmith shop?" - -I nodded. - -"But how did he get in?" says another one. "The door was locked on the -outside with a padlock just now when I came by. He couldn't have killed -himself in there and then locked the door on the outside." - -I didn't see how he could have done that myself, so I began to bawl -again and said nothing at all. - -"He must have crawled into the shop through that little side window," -says Mis' Primrose. "That window was open when I came by, even if the -door was locked. Did you see him crawl through the little side window, -Danny?" - -I nodded. There wasn't anything else I could think of to do. - -"But you aren't tall enough to look through that window;" sings out Mis' -Rogers. "How could you see into the shop, Danny?" - -I didn't know, so I didn't say anything at all; I just sniffled. - -"There's a store box right in under the window," says another one. -"Danny must have climbed on to that store box and looked in after he saw -Hank crawl through the window. Did you scramble on to the store box and -look in, Danny?" - -I just nodded again. - -"And what was it you saw him do? How did he kill himself?" they all -asked together. - -I didn't know. So I just bellered and boo-hooed some more. Things were -getting past anything I could see the way out of. - -"He might have hung himself to one of the iron rings in the joists above -the forge," says another woman. - -"He climbed on to the forge and tied the rope to one of those rings, and -tied the other end around his neck, and then he stepped off the forge -and swung. Was that how he did it, Danny?" - -I nodded. And I bellered louder than ever. I knew that Hank was down in -that cistern below the kitchen, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all -this time; but those women kind of got me to thinking he was hanging out -in the blacksmith shop by the forge, too. - -Pretty soon one woman says, shivery: "I wouldn't want to have the job of -opening the door of the blacksmith shop the first one!" - -And they all shivered, and looked at Elmira, and says to let some of -the men open that door. And Mis' Alexander says she'll run and get her -husband and make him do it. And all the time Elmira sits moaning in that -chair. One woman says Elmira ought to have a cup of tea, and she'll lay -off her bonnet and go to the kitchen and make it for her. But Elmira -says no, she can't a-bear to think of tea, with poor Hennery hanging out -there in the shop. But she was kind of enjoying all that fuss being made -over her, too. And all the other women said: "Poor thing!" But most of -them were mad because she said she didn't want any tea, for they wanted -some and didn't feel free to take it without she took some. They coaxed -her and made her see that it was her duty, and she said she'd have some -finally. - -So they all went out to the kitchen, taking along some of the best room -chairs, Elmira coming, too, and me tagging along. The first thing they -noticed was those flatirons on top of the cistern lid. Mis' Primrose -says that looks funny. But Mis' Rogers says Danny must have been playing -with them. "Were you playing they were horses, Danny?" - -I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I nodded. I -couldn't see any use hurrying things up. I was bound to get a licking -pretty soon anyhow. I could always bet on that. So they picked up the -flatirons, and as they picked them up there came a splashing noise in -the cistern. I thought to myself that Hank's corpse would be out of -there in a minute, and then I'd catch it. One woman says: "Sakes alive! -What's that noise?" - -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish and it must be some of the -biggest ones flopping around. If they hadn't been worked up and excited -and talking all together and thinking of Hank hanging out in the -blacksmith shop they might have suspicioned something, for that flopping -and splashing kept up steady. Maybe I should have mentioned sooner it -had been a dry summer and there was only three or four feet of water in -the cistern and Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. When -Elmira says the cistern is full of fish that woman opens the trap door -and looks in. Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out, he says -afterward. And he allows he'll keep quiet in there and make believe he -is drowned and give her a good scare and make her feel sorry for him. - -But when the cistern door was opened he heard a lot of clacking tongues -like a hen convention, and he allowed she had told the neighbours, and -he'd scare them, too. So he laid low. And the woman that looked in, she -sees nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale -that swallowed Jonah. But she left the door open and went on making tea, -and there wasn't scarcely a sound from that cistern, only little ripply -noises like it might have been fish. Pretty soon Mis' Rogers says: - -"It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?" Elmira kicked some more, -but she took hers. And each woman took hers. And one woman, a-sipping of -hers, she says: - -"The departed had his good points, Elmira." - -Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town for years -and years. - -Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no -matter what come of it, and she ups and says: "I don't believe in any -hypocritics at a time like this, any more'n any other time. The departed -wasn't any good, and the whole town knows it, and Elmira ought to feel -like it's good riddance of bad rubbish, and such is my sentiments and -the sentiments of truth and righteousness." - -All the other women sings out: "W'y, Mis' Primrose, I never!" But down -in underneath more of 'em agreed than let on to. Elmira she wiped her -eyes and says: - -"Hennery and me had our troubles, there ain't any use denying that, Mis' -Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. And -the whole town knows he has lifted his hand against me more'n once. But -I always stood up to Hennery and I fit him back, free and fair and open. -I give him as good as he sent on this earth and I ain't the one to carry -a mad beyond the grave. I forgive Hennery all the orneriness he did to -me, and there was a lot of it, as is becoming to a church member, which -he never was." - -All the women but Mis' Primrose says: "Elmira, you _have_ got a -Christian sperrit!" Which did her a heap of good, and she cried -considerable harder, leaking out tears as fast as she poured tea in. -And each one present tried to think up something nice to say about -Hank, only there wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that cistern, -listening to every word of it. - -Mis' Rogers, she says: "Before he took to drinking like a fish, Hank -Walters was as likely a lookin' young feller as ever I see." - -Mis' White, she says: "Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, anyhow. -Often and often White has told me about seeing Hank treating the crowd -down in Nolan's saloon just as come-easy, go-easy as if it wasn't money -he'd ought to have paid his honest debts with." - -They sat there that way telling of what good points they could think of -for ten minutes, and Hank hearing it and getting madder and madder all -the time. By and by Tom Alexander came busting into the house. - -"What's the matter with all you women?" he says. "There's nobody hanging -in that blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, and it's -empty." - -There was a pretty howdy-do, then, and they all sing out: - -"Where's the corpse?" - -Some thinks maybe someone has cut it down and taken it away, and all -gabbled at once. But for a minute or two no one thought that maybe -little Danny had been egged on to tell lies. And little Danny ain't -saying a word. But Elmira grabbed me and shook me and said: - -"You little liar, what do you mean by that story of yours?" - -I thought that licking was about due then. But whilst all eyes were -turned on me and Elmira, there came a voice from the cistern. It was -Hank's voice, but it sounded queer and hollow, and it said: - -"Tom Alexander, is that you?" - -Some of the women screamed, for they thought it was Hank's ghost. But -Mis' Primrose says: "What would a ghost be doing in a cistern?" - -Tom Alexander laughed and yelled down into the cistern: "What in blazes -you want to jump in there for, Hank?" - -"You darned ijut!" said Hank, "you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and -when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ask me what I wanted to jump in -here for!" - -"You never saw the day you could do it," says Tom Alexander, meaning the -day Hank could lick him. "And if you feel that way about it you can stay -down there, for all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you any, -for a change." And he left the house. - -"Elmira," sings out Hank, mad and bossy, "you go get me a ladder!" - -But Elmira, her temper rose up, too, all of a sudden. - -"Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, -Hennery Walters," she says. - -Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. "When I get out'n here," he shouted, -"I'll give you what you won't forget in a hurry! I heard you a-forgivin' -me and a-weepin' over me! And I won't be forgive nor weeped over by no -one! You go and get that ladder!" - -But Elmira only answered: "You was drunk when you fell in there, Hank -Walters. And you can stay in there till you get a better temper on to -you." And all the women laughed and said: "That's right, Elmira! Spunk -up to him!" - -There was considerable splashing around in the water for a couple of -minutes. And then, of a sudden, a live fish came a-whirling out of -that hole in the floor, which he catched with his hands. It was a big -bullhead, and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, -and it landed kerplump on to Mis' Rogers' lap, a-wiggling, and it horned -her on the hands. She was that surprised she fainted. Mis' Primrose, -she got up and licked the fish back into the cistern and said, right -decided: - -"Elmira Walters, if you let Hank out of that cistern before he's signed -the pledge and promised to jine the church, you're a bigger fool than I -take you for. A woman has got to make a stand!" - -And all the women sing out: "Send for Brother Cartwright! Send for -Brother Cartwright!" - -And they sent me scooting down the street to get him quick. He was the -preacher. I never stopped to tell but two or three people on the way to -his house, but they must have spread the news quick, for when I got back -with him it looked like the whole town was at our house. - -It was along about dusk by this time, and it was a prayer meeting night -at the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks that came -to the prayer meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait for him. But -she really told them where he'd gone, and what for. - -Mr. Cartwright marched right into our kitchen. All the chairs in the -house was in there, and the women were talking and laughing, and they -had sent to the Alexanderses for their chairs, and to the Rogerses for -theirs. Every once in a while there would be an awful burst of language -come rolling up from the hole where that unregenerate old sinner was -cooped up. - -I have travelled around considerable since those days, and I have mixed -up along with many kinds of people in many different places, and some -of them were cussers to admire. But I never heard such cussing before or -since as old Hank did that night. He busted his own records and he rose -higher than his own water marks for previous years. I wasn't anything -but a little kid then, not fit to admire the full beauty of it. They -were deep down cusses that came from the heart. Looking back at it after -these years, I can well believe what Brother Cartwright said himself -that night--that it wasn't _natural_ cussing, and that some higher -power, like a demon or an evil sperrit, must have entered into Hank's -human carcase and given that terrible eloquence to his remarks. It -busted out every few minutes, and the women would put their fingers into -their ears until a spell was over. And it was personal, too. Hank would -listen till he heard a woman's voice he knew, and then he would let -loose on her family, going back to her grandfathers and working downward -to her children's children. - -Brother Cartwright steps up to the hole in the floor and says gentle -and soothing like an undertaker when he tells you where to sit at a home -funeral: - -"Brother Walters! Oh, Brother Walters!" - -"Brother!" yelled Hank, "don't ye brother me, you snifflin', -psalm-singin', yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hyp-percrit, you! Get me a -ladder, gol dern ye, and I'll mount out o'here and learn ye to brother -me, I will!" Only that wasn't anything to what Hank really said; no more -like than a little yellow fluffy canary is like a turkey buzzard. - -"Brother Walters," said the preacher, calm but firm, "we have all -decided that you aren't going to get out of that cistern until you sign -the pledge." - -Then Hank told him what he thought of him and pledges and church doings, -and it wasn't pretty. He said if he was as deep in the eternal fire of -hell as he was in rain water, and every fish that nibbled at his toes -was a devil with a red-hot pitchfork sicked on by a preacher, they could -jab at him until the whole hereafter turned into icicles before he'd -sign anything that a man like Mr. Cartwright gave him to sign. Hank was -stubborner than any mule he ever nailed shoes on to, and proud of being -that stubborn. That town was a most awful religious town, and Hank knew -he was called the most unreligious man in it, and he was proud of that, -too; and if any one called him a heathen it just plumb tickled him all -over. - -"Brother Walters," says the preacher, "we are going to pray for you." - -And they did it. They brought all the chairs close up around the cistern -door, in a ring, and they all knelt down there with their heads on the -chairs and prayed for Hank's salvation. They did it up in style, too, -one at a time, and the others singing out, "Amen!" every now and then, -and they shed tears down on to Hank. - -The front yard was crowded with men, all laughing and talking and -chawing and spitting tobacco, and betting how long Hank would hold out. -Si Emery, that was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated -star, was out there with them. Si was in a sweat, because Bill Nolan, -who ran the saloon, and some more of Hank's friends were out by the -front fence trying to get Si to arrest the preacher. For they said that -Hank was being gradually murdered in that water and would die if he was -held there too long, and it would be a crime. Only they didn't come into -the house amongst us religious folks to say it. But Si, he says he don't -dare to arrest anybody, because Hank's house is just outside the village -corporation line; he's considerable worried about what his duty is, not -liking to displease Bill Nolan. - -Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright had rounded up at the prayer -meeting came stringing along in. They had brought their hymn books with -them, and they sung. The whole town was there then, and they all sung. -They sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank, he would just cuss and -cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would -start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard began to warm -up and sing, too, all but Nolan's crowd, and they gave Hank up for lost -and went back to the barroom. - -The first thing they knew they had a regular old-fashioned revival -meeting going there, and that preacher was preaching a regular revival -sermon. I've been to more than one camp meeting, but for just naturally -taking hold of the whole human race by the slack of the pants and -dangling of it over hell fire, I never heard that sermon equalled. Two -or three old backsliders in the crowd came right up and repented all -over again. The whole kit-and-biling of them got the power, good and -hard, and sung and shouted till the joints of the house cracked and it -shook and swayed on its foundations. But Hank, he only cussed. He was -obstinate, Hank was, and his pride and dander had risen up. - -"Darn your ornery religious hides," he says, "you're takin' a low-down -advantage of me, you are! Let me out on to dry land, and I'll show you -who'll stick it out the longest, I will!" - -Most of the folks there hadn't had any suppers, so after all the sinners -but Hank had either got converted or sneaked away, some of the women -said why not make a kind of a love feast of it, and bring some victuals, -like they do at church sociables. Because it seemed that Satan was going -to wrestle there all night, like he did with the angel Jacob, and they -ought to be prepared. So they did it. They went and they came back with -things to eat and they made hot coffee and they feasted that preacher -and themselves and Elmira and me, right in Hank's hearing. - -And Hank was getting pretty hungry himself. And he was cold in that -water. And the fish were nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out -and weak and soaked full of despair. There wasn't any way for him to sit -down and rest. He was scared of getting cramps in his legs and sinking -down with his head under water and being drowned. - -He said afterward he would have done the last with pleasure if there -had been any way of starting a lawsuit for murder against that gang. So -along between ten and eleven o'clock that night he sings out: - -"I give in, gosh dern ye, I give in! Let me out and I'll sign your pesky -pledge!" - -Brother Cartwright was for getting a ladder and letting him climb out -right away. But Elmira said: "You don't know him like I do! If he gets -out before he's signed the pledge, he'll never do it." - -So Brother Cartwright wrote out a pledge on the inside leaf of the -Bible, and tied it on to a string, and a pencil on to another string, -and let them down, and held a lantern down, too, and Hank made his -mark, for he couldn't write. But just as Hank was making his mark that -preacher spoke some words over Hank, and then he said: - -"Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the -church." - -You might have thought that Hank would have broken out into profanity -again at that, for he hadn't agreed to anything but signing the pledge. -But he didn't cuss. When they got the ladder and he climbed up into -the kitchen, shivering and dripping, he said serious and solemn to Mr. -Cartwright: - -"Did I hear you baptizing me in that water?" - -Mr. Cartwright said he had. - -"That was a low-down trick," said Hank. "You knowed I always made my -brags that I'd never jined a church and never would. You knowed I was -proud of that. You knowed it was my glory to tell it, and that I set -a heap of store by it, in every way. And now you've gone and took that -away from me! You've gone and jined me to the church! You never fought -it out fair and square, man strivin' to outlast man, like we done with -the pledge, but you sneaked it on to me when I wasn't lookin'!" - -And Hank always thought he had been baptized binding and regular. And -he sorrowed and grieved over it, and got grouchier and meaner and -drunkener. No pledge nor no Prohibition could hold Hank. He was a worse -man in every way after that night in the cistern, and took to licking me -harder and harder. - - - - -ACCURSED HAT - -I request of you a razor, and you present me with this implement! A -safety razor! One cannot gash oneself with your invention. Do you think -I rush to your apartment with the desire to barber myself? No, _milles -diables_, no! I 'ave embrace you for my friend, and you mock at my -despair. This tool may safely abolish the 'air from the lip of the -drummer when the train 'ave to wiggle, but it will not gash the jugular; -it will not release the bluest blood of France that courses through -one's veins. - -_Oui,_ I will restrain myself. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ I will make -myself of a calmness. I will explain. - -Yes, it is a woman. What else? At the insides of all despair it is a -woman ever. That is always the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the one best -bet. - -Listen. I love 'er. She own the 'ouse of which I am one of the lodgers, -in'abiting the chamber beneath the skylight. She is a widow, and I love -'er. Of such a roundness is she!--and she 'ave the restaurant beyond the -street. Of such a beauty!--and 'er 'usband, who was a Monsieur Flanagan, -'e leave 'er w'at you call well fix with life-insurance. So well fix, -so large, so brilliant of the complexion, so merry of the smile, so -competent of the menage, of such a plumpness! 'Ow should it be that one -did not love 'er? - -But she? Does she smile on the 'andsome Frenchman who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber and paint and paint and paint all day long, and sell, -oh, so little of 'is paintings? _Helas!_ She scarcely know that 'e -exist! She 'ave scarcely notice 'im. 'Ow is genius of avail? W'at is -wit, w'at is gallantry, w'at is manner--w'at is all these things w'en -one does not possess the--the--w'at you call 'im?--the front? _Helas!_ -I love, but I 'ave not the front! My trousers are all of a fringe at the -bottom, and my collars are all of a frowsiness at the top. My sleeves -are of such a shine! And my 'at---- - -Ten thousand curses for the man that invented 'ats! You are my -friend--'ave you a pistol? Yes, I will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. I -will restrain myself. _Merci_, monsieur. - -My sleeves are of a sleekness; and my 'at----My 'at, I look at 'im. 'E -is--w'at you call 'im?--on the boom! I contemplate 'im sadly. I regard -'im with reproach. 'E is ridiculous. 'E look like 'e been kicked. -With such a 'at, who can enact the lover? With such a 'at, who can win -'imself a widow? I fly into a rage. I tear from my 'air. I shake my fist -at the nose of fate. I become terrible. I dash my 'at upon the floor, -and jump upon 'im with fury. Then I look at 'im with 'atred. 'E look -back at me with sorrow in 'is wrinkles. And, _Voila!_--as I look at 'im -I 'ave a thought. The 'at, 'e straighten out from my jump. W'en my feet -is off, 'e rise a little way from 'is wrinkles where I crush 'im. 'E -lift 'imself slowly like a jack-in-the-box up from 'is disgrace. And I -'ave an idea. - -Monsieur, we Frenchmen are a people of resource! - -I take my thought to an agent of the advertising profession. I say I -'ave come to the place where I am willing to degrade my genius for -gold. I wish to eat more often. I wish to marry the widow I love. I -will forget my art; I will make some dollars; I will degrade myself -temporarily. The agent of advertising 'e say 'e 'ave no need of any -degradation, to take 'im somewhere else. But I explain, and behold! I am -engaged to go to work. They furnish me with clothes of a design the most -fashionable, and with a 'at of which I am myself the architect, and I go -to work. I 'ate it, but I go to work. - -The manner of my work is this. The 'at, 'e does it all. (_Accursed -'at!_) 'E is so built that on the outside 'e look like any other silk -'at. But 'e 'ave 'is secrets. 'E 'ave 'is surprises. On 'is inside there -is a clockwork and a spring. At intervals 'e separate 'imself in two in -the middle, and the top part of 'im go up in the air, slowly, one inch, -two inch, three inch, four inch, five inch, six inch--like a telescope -that open 'imself out. And w'at 'ave we then? _Voila!_ We 'ave a white -silk place, and on it is printed in grand letters: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -You see, my friend? It is now my profession, every afternoon for three -hours, to join the promenade; to display my 'at; to make fast in -the minds of the people 'ow fortunate a discovery is the anti-fat of -Monsieur Blinn. - -Monsieur, I am always the gentleman. Am I forced into a vulgar role? -Well, then, there is something about me that redeems it from vulgarity. -I am a movable advertisement, but none the less I am an advertisement of -dignity. Those clothes they furnish, I 'ave made under my own direction. -I adorn my foot in the most poetical of boots. Only a Frenchman might -'ave created my coat. My trousers are poems. I am dressed with that -inspiration of elegance which only a man of my imagination might devise. - -Monsieur, I am always the artist. That 'at, I nevaire let 'im go up with -a pop like a jacking-jump. 'E is not to startle the most sensitive of -ladies. W'en 'e arise, 'e arise slowly. 'E is majestic in 'is movement. -'E ascend with gravity. 'E go up with dignity. - -For three hours each day, I thus set aside my finer emotions. And all -the town smile; and many 'undreds rush to buy the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan---- - -Curses upon the perfidy of woman! Do not 'old me, I say! Let me go! I -will leap from your window to the stones below! Well, I will restrain -myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan does not perceive that I thus make of -my 'ead a billboard three hours each day? Monsieur, all Frenchmen are of -an originality w'en driven to it by fate, and not the least of them am -I! To 'er I am still the poor but 'andsome artist. It is in the parlours -of the agent of advertising that I dress myself, I don the 'at, each -day. I wear before my eyes a thick spectacles; I 'ide my black 'air -beneath a gray wig; I 'ave shave my own beard and each day put on -moustache and royal of a colour the same with the wig. There is no -danger that the grave foreigner, so courteous, so elegant, so much the -statesman, who condescend to advertise the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn, -shall be--shall be--w'at you call 'im?--spotted by the Widow Flanagan. -She does not connect 'im with the 'andsome artist who in'abit 'er -skylight chamber. To do so would be to kill my 'opes. For love is not to -be made ridiculous. - -I prosper. I 'ave money each week. I eat. I acquire me some clothes -which are not the same with those worn by the employee of Monsieur -Blinn. I buy me a silk 'at which 'ave no clockwork in 'is inside. I -acquire the--w'at you call 'im?--the front. I dine at the cafe of the -Widow Flanagan beyond the street. I chat with the Widow Flanagan w'en -I pay my check. Monsieur, the Widow Flanagan at las' know the 'andsome -Frenchman exist! The front, 'e work like a charm. 'E give the genius -beneath 'im the chance to show w'at 'e can do. The front, 'e make--'ow -you call 'im?--'e make good. - -'Ave I said enough? You are my friend; you see me, w'at I am. Is it -possible that the Widow Flanagan should look upon me and not be of a -flutter throughout? I 'ave said enough. She see me; she love me. With -women, it is always so! - -The day is name; we will marry. Already I look forward to the time that -I am no longer compelled to the service of the anti-fat of Monsieur -Blinn. Already I indulge my fancy in my 'appiness with the beautiful -Widow Flanagan, whose 'usband 'ave fortunately die and leave 'er so ver' -well fix. But, _helas!_ - -Grasp me! Restrain me! Again my grief 'ave overpower! 'Ave you a -rough-on-rats in the 'ouse? 'Ave you a poison? Yes, you are my friend. -Yes, I will restrain myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci!_ - -The day is name. The day arrive. I 'ave shave. I 'ave bathe. I am 'appy. -I skip; I dance; I am exalt; all the morning I 'urn a little tune--O -love, love, love! And such a widow--so plump and so well fix! - -The wedding is at the 'ome of Madame Flanagan. Meantime, I am with a -friend. The hour approach. The guests are there; the priest is there; -the mother of the Widow Flanagan, come from afar, is there. We arrive, -my friend and me. It is at the door that we are met by the mother of -the Widow Flanagan. It is at the door she grasp my 'and; she smile, and -then, before I 'ave time to remove my 'at---- - -Accursed 'at! Restrain me! I will do myself a mischief! Well, yes, I -will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. _Merci_, my friend. - -I see 'er face grow red. She scream. She lift 'er and as if to strike -me. She scream again. I know not w'at I must think. The Widow Flanagan -she 'ear 'er mother scream. She rush downstairs. I turn to the Widow -Flanagan, but she 'as no eyes for me. She is gazing on my 'at. Monsieur, -then I know. I 'ave got the wrong one in dressing; and I feel that -accursed thing are lifting itself up to say to my bride and her mother: - -YOU ARE TOO FAT! - -DR. BLINN - -WILL MAKE YOU THIN - -And be'ind the Widow Flanagan and 'er mother come crowding fifty guests, -and everyone 'as seen my 'at make those remarks! Accursed widow! The -door is slam in my face! I am jilted! - -Ah, laugh, you pigs of guests, laugh, till you shake down the dwelling -of the Widow Flanagan! Were it not that I remember that I once loved -you, Madame Flanagan, that 'ouse would now be ashes. - -Monsieur, I 'ave done. I 'ave spoken. Now I will die. 'Ave you a rope? -Well, I will calm myself. _Oui_, I will 'ave a drink. _Merci,_ monsieur! - - - - -ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN - -Football," said Big Joe, the friendly waiter, laying down the sporting -page of my paper with a reminiscent sigh, "ain't what it was twenty -years ago. When I played the game it was some different from wood-tag -and pump-pump-pull-away. It's went to the dogs." - -"Used to be a star, huh?" said I. "What college did you play with, Joe?" - -"No college," said Joe, "can claim me for its alma meter." - -He seated himself comfortably across the table from me, as the more -sociably inclined waiters will do in that particular place. "I don't -know that I ever was a star. But I had the punch, and I was as tough as -that piece of cow you're trying to stick your fork into. And I played in -one game the like of which has never been pulled off before or since." - -"Tell me about it," said I, handing him a cigar. Joe sniffed and tasted -it suspiciously, and having made sure that it wasn't any brand sold on -the premises, lighted it. There was only one other customer, and it was -near closing time. - -"No, sir," he said, "it wasn't any kissing game in my day. Ever hear of -a place called Kingstown, Illinois? Well, some has and some hasn't. It's -a burg of about five thousand souls and it's on the Burlington. Along -about the time of the Spanish war it turned out a football team that -used to eat all them little colleges through there alive. - -"The way I joined was right unexpected to me. I happened into the place -on a freight train, looking for a job, and got pinched for a hobo. When -they started to take me to the lock-up I licked the chief of police and -the first deputy chief of police, and the second deputy, but the other -member of the force made four, and four was too many for me. I hadn't -been incarcerated ten minutes before a pleasant looking young fellow who -had seen the rumpus comes up to the cell door with the chief, and says -through the bars: - -"'How much do you weigh?' - -"'Enough,' says I, still feeling sore, 'to lick six longhaired dudes -like you.' - -"'Mebby,' says he, very amiable, 'mebby you do. And if you do, I've got -a job for you.' - -"He was so nice about it that he made me ashamed of my grouch... - -"'No offence meant,' says I. 'I only weigh 230 pounds now. But when I'm -getting the eats regular I soon muscles up to 250 stripped.' - -"'I guess you'll do,' says he, 'judging by the fight you put up. We need -strength and carelessness in the line.' - -"'What line is that?' says I, suspicious. - -"'From now on,' says he, 'you're right tackle on the Kingstown Football -Team. I'm going to get you a job with a friend of mine that runs a -livery stable, but your main duty will be playing football. Are you on?' - -"'Lead me to the training table,"' says I. And he paid me loose and done -it. - -"This fellow was Jimmy Dolan, and he had once played an end on Yale, -and couldn't forget it. He and a couple of others that had been off to -colleges had started the Kingstown Team. One was an old Michigan star, -and the other had been a half-back at Cornell. The rest of us wasn't -college men at all, but as I remarked before, we were there with the -punch. - -"There was Tom Sharp, for instance. Tom was thought out and planned and -preforedestinated for a centre rush by Nature long before mankind ever -discovered football. Tom was about seventeen hands high, and his style -of architecture was mostly round about. I've seen many taller men, but -none more circumferous as to width and thickness. Tom's chest was the -size and shape of a barrel of railroad spikes, but a good deal harder. -You couldn't knock him off his feet, but if you could have, it wouldn't -have done you any good, for he was just as high one way as he was -another--and none of it idle fat. Tom was a blacksmith during his -leisure hours, and every horse and mule for miles around knowed him -and trembled at his name. He had never got hold of nothing yet that was -solid enough to show him how strong he was. - -"But the best player was a big teamster by the name of Jerry Coakley. -Jerry was between six and eight feet high, and to the naked eye he was -seemingly all bone. He weighed in at 260 pounds _ad valorem_, and he -was the only long bony man like that I ever seen who could get himself -together and start quick. Tom Sharp would roll down the field calm and -thoughtful and philosophic, with the enemy clinging to him and dripping -off of him and crumpling up under him, with no haste and no temper, -like an absent-minded battleship coming up the bay; but this here Jerry -Coakley was sudden and nefarious and red-headed like a train-wreck. And -the more nefarious he was, the more he grinned and chuckled to himself. -'For two years that team had been making a reputation for itself, and -all the pride and affection and patriotism in the town was centred on to -it. I joined on early in the season, but already the talk was about the -Thanksgiving game with Lincoln College. This Lincoln College was a right -sizable school. Kingstown had licked it the year before, and there were -many complaints of rough play on both sides. But this year Lincoln had -a corking team. They had beat the state university, and early in the -season they had played Chicago off her feet, and they were simply -yearning to wipe out the last year's disgrace by devastating the -Kingstown Athletic Association, which is what we called ourselves. And -in the meantime both sides goes along feeding themselves on small-sized -colleges and athletic associations, hearing more and more about each -other, and getting hungrier and hungrier. - -"Things looked mighty good for us up to about a week before -Thanksgiving. Then one day Jerry Coakley turned up missing. We put in -48 hours hunting him, and at the end of that time there was a meeting -of the whole chivalry and citizenry of Kingstown in the opery hall to -consider ways and means of facing the public calamity. For the whole -town was stirred up. The mayor himself makes a speech, which is printed -in full in the Kingstown _Record_ the next day along with a piece that -says: 'Whither are we drifting?' - -"Next day, after practice, Jimmy Dolan is looking pretty blue. - -"'Cheer up,' says I, 'Jerry wasn't the whole team.' - -"'He was about a fifth of it,' says Captain Dolan, very sober. - -"'But the worst was yet to come. The very next day, at practice, a big -Swede butcher by the name of Lars Olsen, who played right guard, managed -to break his ankle. This here indignity hit the town so hard that it -looked for a while like Lars would be mobbed. Some says Lars has sold -out to the enemy and broke it on purpose, and the Kingstown _Record_ has -another piece headed: 'Have we a serpent in our midst?' - -"That night Dolan puts the team in charge of Berty Jones, the Cornell -man, with orders to take no risks on anything more injurious than signal -practice, and leaves town. He gets back on Wednesday night, and two guys -with him. They are hustled from the train to a cab and from the cab to -the American House, and into their rooms, so fast no one gets a square -look at them. - -"But after dinner, which both of the strangers takes in their rooms, -Dolan says to come up to Mr. Breittmann's room and get acquainted -with him, which the team done. This here Breittmann is a kind of -Austro-Hungarian Dutchman looking sort of a great big feller, with -a foreign cast of face, like he might be a German baron or a Switzer -waiter, and he speaks his language with an accent. Mr. Rooney, which is -the other one's name, ain't mentioned at first. But after we talk with -the Breittmann person a while Jimmy Dolan says: - -"'Boys, Mr. Rooney has asked to be excused from meeting any -one to-night, but you'll all have an opportunity to meet him -to-morrow--after the game.' - -"'But,' says I, 'Cap, won't he go through signal practice with us?' - -"Dolan and Breittmann, and Berty Jones, who was our quarterback and the -only one in the crowd besides Dolan who had met Mr. Rooney, looked at -each other and kind of grinned. Then Dolan says: 'Mr. Breittmann knows -signals and will run through practice with us in the morning, but not -Mr. Rooney. Mr. Breittmann, boys, used to be on the Yale scrub.' - -"'Dem vas goot days, Chimmie,' says this here Breittmann, 'but der -naturalist, Chimmie, he is also the good days. What?' - -"The next day, just before the game, I got my first glimpse of this -Rooney when he come downstairs with Breittmann and they both piled into -a cab. He wore a long overcoat over his football togs, and he had so -many headpieces and nose guards and things on to him all you could see -of his face was a bit of reddish looking whisker at the sides. - -"'He's Irish by the name,' says 1, 'and the way he carries them -shoulders and swings his arms he must have learned to play football -by carrying the hod.' He wasn't a big man, neither, and I thought he -handled himself kind of clumsy. - -"When we got out to the football field and that Lincoln College bunch -jumped out of their bus and began to pass the ball around, the very -first man we see is that there Jerry Coakley. - -"Yes, sir, sold out! - -"Dolan and me ran over to the Lincoln captain. - -"'You don't play that man!' says Dolan, mad as a hornet, pointing at -Jerry. Jerry, he stood with his arms crossed, grinning and chuckling to -himself, bold as Abraham Lincoln on the burning deck and built much the -same. - -"'Why not?' says the college captain, 'he's one of our students.' - -"'Him?' says I. 'Why, he's the village truck-driver here!' And that -there Jerry had the nerve to wink at me. - -"'Mr. Coakley matriculated at Lincoln College a week ago,' says the -captain, Jerry he grinned more and more, and both teams had gathered -into a bunch around us. - -"'Matriculated? Jerry did?' says Jimmy Dolan. 'Why, it's all Jerry can -do to write his name.' - -"'Mr. Coakley is studying the plastic arts, and taking a special course -in psychology,' says the captain. - -"'Let him play, Dolan,' says Tom Sharp. 'Leave him to me. I'll learn him -some art. I'll fix him!' - -"'O, you Tom!' says Jerry, grinning good-natured. - -"'O, you crook!' says Tom. And Jerry, still grinning good-natured, hands -Tom one. It took the rest of the two teams to separate them, and they -both started the game with a little blood on their faces. We made no -further kick about Jerry playing. All our boys wanted him in the game. -'Get him!' was the word passed down the line. And after that little -mix-up both sides was eager to begin. - -"We kicked off. I noticed this here Rooney person got down after the -kick-off rather slow, sticking close to his friend Breittmann. He was at -left tackle, right, between Breittmann at guard, and Dolan, who played -end. - -"Jerry, he caught the kick-off and come prancing up the field like a -prairie whirlwind. But Dolan and me got to him about the same time, and -as we downed him Tom Sharp, quite accidental, stepped on to his head -with both feet. - -"'Foul!' yells the referee, running up and waving his hand at Tom -Sharp. 'Get off the field, you! I penalize Kingstown thirty yards for -deliberate foul play!' - -"But Jerry jumped up--it took more'n a little thing like that to feaze -Jerry--and shoved the referee aside. - -"'No, you don't put him out of this game,' says Jerry. 'I want him in -it. I'll put him out all right!' - -"Then there was a squabble, that ended with half of both teams ordered -off the field. And the upshot of which was that everybody on both sides -agreed to abolish all umpires and referees, and get along without any -penalties whatever, or any officials but the time-keeper. No, sir, none -of us boys was in any temper by that time to be interfered with nor -dictated to by officials. - -"No, what followed wasn't hampered any by technicalities. No, sir, it -wasn't drop the handkerchief. There wasn't any Hoyle or Spalding or -Queensberry about it. It was London prize ring, _savate_, jiu juitsi and -Graeco-Roman, all mixed up, with everybody making his own ground rules. -The first down, when Tom Sharp picked up that Lincoln College Captain -and hit Jerry Coakley over the head with him, five Lincoln College -substitutes give a yell and threw off their sweaters and run on to the -field. Then we heard another yell, and our substitutes come charging -into the fray and by the end of the first half there was eighteen men -on each side, including three in citizens' clothes who were using brass -knucks and barrel staves." - -Joe paused a moment, dwelling internally upon memories evidently too -sweet for words. Then he sighed and murmured: "No, sir, the game ain't -what it was in them days. Kick and run and forward pass and such darned -foolishness! Football has went to the dogs! - -"Well," he resumed, flexing his muscles reminiscently, "neither side -wasted any time on end runs or punts. It was punch the line, and then -punch the line some more, and during the first ten minutes of play the -ball didn't move twenty yards either way from the centre of the field, -with a row on all the time as to whose ball it ought to be. As a matter -of fact, it was whoever's could keep his hands on to it. - -"It was the third down before I noticed this fellow Rooney particular. -Then our quarterback sent a play through between guard and tackle. It -was up to Rooney to make the hole for it. - -"As the signal was give, and the ball passed back, Breittmann laid his -arm across Rooney's shoulders, and I heard him say something in Dutch to -him. They moved forward like one man, not fast, but determined like. A -big college duffer tried to get through Rooney and spill the play. This -here Rooney took him around the waist and slammed him on to the ground -with a yell like a steamship that's discovered fire in her coal bunkers, -and then knelt on the remains, while the play went on over 'em. I -noticed Breittmann had a hard time getting Rooney off of him. They -carried the fellow off considerably sprained, and two more Lincoln -College fellows shucked their wraps and run in to take his place. - -"The very next play went through the same hole, only this time the -fellow that went down under Rooney got up with blood soaking through his -shoulder padding and swore he'd been bit. But nobody paid any attention -to him, and the Lincoln boys put Jerry Coakley in opposite Rooney. - -"'You cross-eyed, pigeon-toed Orangeman of a hod-carrier, you,' says -Jerry, when we lined up, trying to intimidate Rooney, 'I'll learn you -football.' - -"But Rooney, with his left hand hold of Breittmann's, never said a word. -He just looked sideways up at Breittmann like he was scared, or mebby -shy, and Breittmann said something in Dutch to him. - -"That play we made five yards, and we made it through Jerry Coakley, -too, Mr. Rooney officiating. When Breittmann got his friend off Jerry, -Jerry set up and tried to grin, but he couldn't. He felt himself all -over, surprised, and took his place in the line without saying a word. - -"Then we lost the ball on a fumble, which is to say the Lincoln centre -jumped on to Tom Sharp's wrists with both feet when he tried to pass -it, and Jerry Coakley grabbed it. The first half closed without a score, -with the ball still in the centre of the field. - -"The second half, I could see right away, Jerry Coakley had made up his -mind to do up Rooney. The very first play Lincoln made was a guard's -back punch right at Rooney. I reckon the whole Lincoln team was in that -play, with Jerry Coakley in the van. - -"We got into it, too. All of us," Joe paused again, with another -reflective smile. Pretty soon he continued. - -"Yes, sir, that was some scrimmage. And in the midst of it, whoever had -the ball dropped it. But for a minute, nobody seemed to care. And then -we discovered that them unsportsmanlike Lincoln College students had -changed to baseball shoes with metal spikes between the halves. We -hadn't thought of that. - -"After about a minute of this mauling, clawing mess, right out of the -midst of it rolled the ball. And then came this here Rooney crawling -after it--_crawling_ I say!--on his hands and feet. - -"He picked it up and straightened himself. - -"'Run, Rooney, run!' says I. And he had a clear field. But he didn't -seem to realize it. He just tucked that ball under one arm, and ambled. - -"Half a dozen of us fell in and tried to make interference for him--but -he wouldn't run; he just dog-trotted, slow and comfortable. And in a -second Jerry Coakley sifted through and tackled him. - -"Rooney stopped. Stopped dead in his track, as if he was surprised. And -then, using only one hand--only one hand, mind you--he picked that there -Jerry Coakley up, like he was an infant, give him one squeeze, and slung -him. Yes, sir, Jerry was all sort of crumpled up when he lit! - -"And he kept on, slow and easy and gentle. The Lincoln gang spilled the -interference. But that didn't bother Rooney any. Slow and certain and -easy he went down that field. And every time he was tackled he separated -that tackier from himself and treated him like he had Jerry. - -"Yes, sir, he strung behind him ten men out of the nineteen players -Lincoln College had in that game, as he went down the field. From where -I was setting on top of the Lincoln centre rush, I counted 'em as he -took 'em. Slow and solemn and serious like an avenging angel, Mr. Rooney -made for them goal posts, taking no prisoners, and leaving the wounded -and dead in a long windrow behind him. It wasn't legalized -football, mebby, but it was a grand and majestic sight to see that -stoop-shouldered feller with the red whiskers proceeding calmly and -unstoppably forward like the wrath of God. - -"Yes, sir, the game was ours. We thought it was, leastways. All he had -to do was touch that there ball to the ground! The whole of Kingstown -was drawing in its breath to let out a cheer as soon as he done it. - -"But it never let that yell. For when he reached the goal----" - -Here Joe broke off again and chuckled. - -"Say," he said, "you ain't going to believe what I'm telling you now. -It's too unlikely. I didn't believe it myself when I seen it. But it -happened. Yes, sir, that nut never touched the ground with the ball! - -"Instead, with the ball still under one arm, he climbed a goal post. -Climbed it, I tell you, with both legs and one arm. And setting straddle -of that cross bar believe me or not, he began to shuck. In front of all -that crowd, dud after dud, he shucked. - -"And there wasn't no cheers then, for in a minute there he set, _a -monkey!_ Yes, sir, the biggest blamed monkey you ever seen, trying to -crack that football open on a goal post under the belief that it was -a cocoa-nut. Monkey, did I say? Monkey ain't any word for it! He was a -regular ape; he was one of these here orang-outang baboons! Yes, sir, a -regular gosh-darned Darwinian gorilla!" - -Joe took a fresh light for his cigar, and cocked his eye again at my -sporting supplement. "I notice," he said, sarcastically, "Princeton -had a couple of men hurt yesterday in the Yale game. Well, accidents is -bound to happen even in ring-around-the-rosy or prisoner's base. What?" - - - - -TOO AMERICAN - -Is it a real English cottage?" we asked the agent suspiciously, "or is -it one that has been hastily aged to rent to Americans?" - -It was the real thing: he vouched for it. It was right in the middle -of England. The children could walk for miles in any direction without -falling off the edge of England and getting wet. - -"See here!" I said. "How many blocks from Scotland is it?" - -"Blocks from Scotland?" He didn't understand. - -"Yes," I said, "blocks from Scotland." I explained. My wife and I had -been trying to get a real English accent. That was one of the things we -had come to England for. We wanted to take it back with us and use it -in Brooklyn, and we didn't want to get too near Scotland and get any -Scottish dialect mixed up with it. It seemed that the cottage was quite -a piece from Scotland. There was a castle not far away--the fifteenth -castle on the right side as you go into England. When there wasn't any -wind you didn't get a raw sea breeze or hear the ocean vessels whistle. - -"Is it overgrown with ivy," asked Marian, my wife. - -Yes, it was ivy-covered. You could scarcely see it for ivy--ivy that was -pulling the wall down, ivy as deep-rooted as the hereditary idea. - -"Are the drains bad?" I asked. - -They were. There would be no trouble on that score. What plumbing there -was, was leaky. The roof leaked. - -There was neither gas nor electricity, nor hot and cold water, nor -anything else. - -"I suppose the place is rather damp?" I said to the agent. "Is it chilly -most of the time? Are the flues defective? Are the floors uneven? Is the -place thoroughly uncomfortable and unsanitary and unhabitable in every -particular?" - -Yes, it had all these advantages. I was about to sign the lease when my -wife plucked me by the sleeve in her impulsive American way. "Is there a -bathroom?" she asked. - -"My dear Mrs. Minever," said the agent with dignity, "there is not. I -can assure you that there are no conveniences of any kind. It is a real -English cottage." - -I took the place. It was evening of the third day after we took -possession that I discovered that we had been taken in. All the other -Americans in that part of England were sitting out in front of their -cottages trying to look as if they were accustomed to them, and we--my -wife and Uncle Bainbridge and I--were sitting in front of ours trying to -act as English as we knew how, when a voice hailed me. - -"You are Americans, aren't you, sir?" said the voice. - -The voice was anyhow; so we shamefacedly confessed. - -"I thought you looked like it," said the voice, and its owner came -wavering toward us through the twilight. - -"What makes you think we look like it?" I said, a trifle annoyed; for -it had been my delusion that we had got ourselves to looking quite -English--English enough, at least, so that no one could tell us in the -faint light. - -"Our clothes don't fit us, do they?" asked my wife nervously. - -"They can't fit us," said I; "they were made in London." - -I spoke rather sharply, I suppose. And as I was speaking, a most -astonishing thing happened--the person I had been speaking to suddenly -disappeared. He was, and then he was not! I sprang up, and I could tell -from my wife's exclamation that she was startled, too. As for Uncle -Bainbridge, he seldom gives way to emotion not directly connected with -his meals or his money. - -"Here, you!" I called out loudly, looking about me. - -The figure came waveringly into view again. - -"Where did you go to?" I demanded. "What do you mean by acting like -that? Who are you, anyhow?" - -"Please, sir," said the wavery person, "don't speak so crosslike. It -always makes me vanish. I can't help it, sir." - -He continued timidly: - -"I heard a new American family had moved here and I dropped by to ask -you, sir, do you need a ghost?" - -"A ghost! Are you----" - -"Yes, sir," with a deprecating smile. "Only an American ghost; but one -who would appreciate a situation all the more, sir, for that reason. I -don't mind telling you that there's a feeling against us American ghosts -here in England, and I've been out of a place for some time. Maybe you -have noticed a similar feeling toward Americans? I'm sure, sir, you must -have noticed a discrimination, and----" - -"Don't say 'sir' all the time," I told him. - -"Beg pardon, sir," he rejoined: "but it's a habit. I've tried very hard -to fit myself to English ways and it's got to be second nature, sir. My -voice I can't change; but my class--I was a barber in America, sir--my -class I have learned. And," he repeated rather vacantly, "I just dropped -by to see if you wanted a ghost. Being fellow Americans, you know, I -thought----" His voice trailed off into humble silence, and he stood -twisting a shadowy hat round and round in his fingers. - -"See here!" I said. "Should we have a ghost?" - -"Beg pardon, sir, but how much rent do you pay?" I told him. - -He answered politely but with decision, "Then, sir, in all fairness, you -are entitled to a ghost with the place. It gives a certain tone, sir." - -"Why weren't we given one, then?" I asked - -"Well----" he said, and paused. If a ghost can blush with embarrassment, -he blushed. "You see," he went on, making it as easy for me as he could, -"English ghosts mostly object to haunting Americans, just as American -ghosts find it difficult to get places in English houses and cottages. -You see, sir, we are----" - -He halted lamely, and then finished, "We're so _American_ somehow, sir." - -"But we've been cheated!" I said. - -"Yes, sir," said the American ghost, "regularly _had_" He said it in -quite an English manner, and I complimented him on his achievement. He -smiled with a child's delight. - -"Would I do?" he urged again, with a kind of timid insistence. - -My sympathies were with him. "You don't mind children?" I said. "We have -two." - -"No," he replied; "leastways, if they aren't very rough, I am not much -frightened of them." - -"I guess," I began, "that----" I was about to say that he would do, when -my wife interrupted me. - -"We do not want a ghost at all," she said firmly. - -"But, my dear----" - -She raised her eyebrows at me, and I was silent. After looking from -one to the other of us wistfully for a moment, the applicant turned and -drifted away, vanishing dejectedly when he reached the gate. - -"You heard what he said, Henry?" said my wife as he disappeared. "It is -lucky that you have me by you! Do you want to saddle yourself with an -American ghost? For my part, I will have an English ghost or none!" - -I realized that Marian was right; but I felt sorry for the ghost. - -"What did--the fellow--want?" roared Uncle Bain-bridge, who is deaf, and -brings out his words two or three at a time. - -"Wanted to know--if we wanted--a ghost!" I roared in reply. - -"Goat? Goat? Huh-huh!" shouted Uncle Bain-bridge. "No, sir! Get 'em a -pony--and a cart--little cart! That's the best--thing--for the kids!" - -Uncle Bainbridge is, in fact, so deaf that he is never bothered by the -noises he makes when he eats. As a rule when you speak to him he first -says, "How?" Then he produces a kind of telephone arrangement. He plugs -one end into his ear, and shoves a black rubber disk at you. You talk -against the disk, and when he disagrees with you he pulls the plug out -of his ear to stop your foolish chatter, and snorts contemptuously. Once -my wife remarked to me that Uncle Bainbridge's hearing might be better -if he would only cut those bunches of long gray hair out of his ears. -They annoy every one except Uncle Bainbridge a great deal. But the plug -was in, after all, and he heard her, and asked one of the children in a -terrible voice to fetch him the tin box he keeps his will in. - -Uncle Bainbridge is _my_ uncle. My wife reminds me of that every now and -then. And he is rather hard to live with. But Marian, in spite of -his little idiosyncrasies, has always been generous enough to wish to -protect him from designing females only too ready to marry him for his -money. So she encourages him to make his home with us. If he married -at all, she preferred that he should marry her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwod. That was also Miss Sophia's preference. - -We did get a ghost, however, and a real English ghost. The discovery was -mine. I was sitting in the room we called the library one night, alone -with my pipe, when I heard a couple of raps in, on, about, or behind a -large bookcase that stood diagonally across one corner. It was several -days after we had refused the American applicant, and I had been -thinking of him more or less, and wondering what sort of existence he -led. One half the world doesn't know how the other half lives. I suppose -my reflections had disposed my mind to psychic receptivity; for when I -heard raps I said at once: - -"Are there any good spirits in the room?" It is a formula I remembered -from the days when I had been greatly interested in psychic research. - -Rap! rap! came the answer from behind the bookcase. - -I made a tour of the room, and satisfied myself that it was not a -flapping curtain, or anything like that. - -"Do you have a message for me?" I asked. - -The answer was in the affirmative. - -"What is it?" - -There was a confused and rapid jumble of raps. I repeated the question -with the same result. - -"Can you materialize?" - -The ghost rapped no. - -Then it occurred to me that probably this was a ghost of the sort that -can communicate with the visible world only through replying to such -questions as can be answered by yes or no. There are a great many of -these ghosts. Indeed, my experience in psychic research has led me to -the conclusion that they are in the majority. - -"Were you sent down by the agent to take this place?" I asked. - -"No!" It is impossible to convey in print the suggestion of hauteur and -offended dignity and righteous anger that the ghost managed to get into -that single rap. I have never felt more rebuked in my life; I have never -been made to feel more American. - -"Sir or madam," I said, letting the regret I felt be apparent in my -voice, "I beg your pardon. If you please, I should like to know whose -ghost you are. I will repeat the alphabet. You may rap when you wish me -to stop at a letter. In that way you can spell out your information. Is -that satisfactory?" - -It was. - -"Who are you?" - -Slowly, and with the assured raps of one whose social position is -defined, fixed, and secure in whatever state of existence she may chance -to find herself, the ghost spelled out, "Lady Agatha Pelham." - -I hope I am not snobbish. Indeed, I think I have proved over and over -again that I am not, by frankly confessing that I am an American. But -at the same time I could not repress a little exclamation of pleasure -at the fact that we were haunted by the ghost of a member of the -English aristocracy. You may say what you will, but there is a certain -something--a manner--an air--I scarcely know how to describe it, but it -is there; it exists. In England, one meets it so often--I hope you take -me. - -My gratification must have revealed itself in my manner. Lady Agatha -rapped out, if anything with more haughtiness than she had previously -employed--yes, even with a touch of defiance: - -"I was at one time a governess." - -I gradually learned that while her own family was as good as the Pelham -family, Lady Agatha's parents had been in very reduced circumstances, -and she had had to become a governess. When Sir Arthur Pelham had -married her, his people acted very nasty. He hadn't any money, and they -had wanted him to marry some. He got to treating her very badly before -he died. And during his lifetime, and after it, Lady Agatha had had a -very sad life indeed. Still, you know, she was an aristocrat. She made -one feel that as she told her story bit by bit. For all this came very -gradually, as the result of many conversations, and not at once. We -speedily agreed upon a code, very similar to the Morse telegraphic code, -and we still further abbreviated this, until our conversations, after -a couple of weeks, got to be as rapid as that of a couple of telegraph -operators chatting over the wires. I intimated that it must be rather -rough on her to be haunting Americans, and she said that she had once -lived in our cottage and liked it. - -In spite of her aristocracy, I don't suppose there ever was a more -domestic sort of ghost than Lady Agatha. We all got quite fond of her, -and I think she did of us, too, in spite of our being American. Even -the children got into the habit of taking their little troubles and -perplexities to her. And Marian used to say that with Lady Agatha in -the house, when Uncle Bain-bridge and I happened to be away, she felt so -_safe_ somehow. - -I imagine the fact that she had once been a governess would have made -it rather difficult for Lady Agatha in the house of an English family of -rank. On the other hand, her inherent aristocratic feeling made it quite -impossible for her to haunt any one belonging to the middle or lower -classes. She could haunt us, as Americans, and not feel that the social -question mattered so much, in spite of what the American ghost had -hinted. We Americans are so unclassified that the English often take -chances with individuals, quite regardless of what each individual's -class would naturally be if he had a class. Even while they do this they -make us feel very often that we are hopelessly American; but they do it, -and I, for one, am grateful. Lady Agatha sympathized with our desire to -become as English as possible, she could quite understand that. I find -that many Englishmen approve the effort, although remaining confident -that it will end in failure. - -Lady Agatha helped us a great deal. We used to have lessons in the -evenings in the library. For instance, the children would stand at -attention in front of the bookcase, and repeat a bit of typical English -slang, trying to do it in an absolutely English way. They would do it -over and over and over, until finally Lady Agatha would give a rap -of approval. Or I would pretend that I was an Englishman in a railway -carriage, and that an American had just entered and I was afraid he -would speak to me. I got rather good at this, and made two or three -trips to London to try it out. I found that Americans were imposed on, -and actually in one instance I made one Englishman think that I was an -Englishman who thought he was an American. He was a nobody, however, -and didn't really count. And then, I am afraid, I spoiled it all. We -Americans so often spoil it all! I enjoyed it so that I told him. He -looked startled and said, "But how American!" He was the only Englishman -I ever fooled. - -But Lady Agatha's night classes were of great benefit to us. We used to -practise how to behave toward English servants at country houses, and -how to act when presented at court, and dozens of things like that: not -that we had been asked to a country house, or expected to be presented -at court soon. Marian and I had agreed that the greater part of this -information would be quite useless while Uncle Bainbridge was still -spared to us. Even in Brooklyn Uncle Bainbridge had been something of -a problem at times. But we thought it just as well to prepare ourselves -for the sad certainty that Uncle Bainbridge would pass into a better -world before many years. - -Uncle Bainbridge, who is very wealthy indeed, affects more informality -than the usual self-made man. He used to attend our evening classes with -a contemptuous expression upon his face, and snort at intervals. Once he -even called me "Puppy!" Then he thrust his telephone arrangement before -my face and insisted that I tell him whether I was sane or not. - -"Puppy!" he bellowed. "Quit apin' the English! I get along with 'em -myself--without any nonsense! Treat 'em white! Always treat me white! No -foolishness! Puppy!" - -My wife and I soon discovered that Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge were -on the most friendly terms. He would sit for hours in the library, -with his telephone receiver held patiently near the bookcase, shouting -questions and smiling and nodding over the answers. Marian and I were -afraid that Uncle Bainbridge, by his lack of polish, might offend Lady -Agatha. And at first it was her custom to hover about anxiously while -they were talking to each other. But Uncle Bainbridge discovered this, -and resented it to such an extent that she had to be cautious indeed. - -His talks with Lady Agatha became longer and longer, and more and more -frequent, until finally he received more of her attention than all the -rest of us put together. Indeed, we need not have worried about Uncle -Bainbridge's offending Lady Agatha: the friendship grew closer and -closer. We were certain finally that it was taking on a strong tinge of -sentimentality. One day my wife stopped me just outside the library door -and said in a whisper, indicating the general direction of Lady Agatha's -bookcase with a wave of her hand: - -"Henry, those two old things in there are calling each other Hiram and -Agatha!" - -I listened, and it was so. A week later I heard Uncle Bainbridge seated -by the bookcase, bellowing out a sentimental song. He was having a great -deal of difficulty with it, and in order that he might hear himself he -was singing with the black disk arrangement held directly in front of -his own mouth. - -I cannot say that Uncle Bainbridge became etherealized by the state of -his feelings toward Lady Agatha, whatever the exact state of his feeling -may have been. But he did change a little, and the change was for the -better. He cut out the bunches of gray hair from his ears, and he began -to take care of his fingernails. Lady Agatha was having a good influence -upon him. - -One day, as he and I were standing by the front gate, he suddenly -connected himself for speech and roared at me, with a jerk of his thumb -toward the house. - -"Fine woman!" - -"Who?" I shouted back. - -"Aggie." - -"Why, yes. I suppose she--was." - -"No nonsense!" he yelled. "Husband was a brute! Marry her myself! In -a minute--if possible. Ain't possible! Shame! Bet she could make--good -dumplings--apple dumplings! Huh!" - -Uncle Bainbridge is very fond of apple dumplings. His final test of a -woman is her ability to make good apple dumplings. Several women might -have married him had they been able to pass that examination. He can pay -no higher compliment to a woman than to be willing to believe her able -to make good dumplings. - -"Aggie, in there!" he roared again, impatient because I was slow -in answering. "Dumplings! That kind of woman--could have made--good -dumplings!" - -I felt, somehow, that it was going a bit too far to imagine Lady Agatha -at so plebeian a task as making apple dumplings. - -"Uncle Bainbridge," I shouted, "the upper classes--in England--can't -make--apple dumplings!" - -Even as I shouted I was aware that some bypasser, startled at our loud -voices, was pausing just outside the gate. I turned to encounter for -a moment the haughty glare of the most English-looking elderly woman -I have ever seen. She had a large, high nose, and she was a large, -high-looking handsome woman generally. She said no word to me; but as -she stared her lips moved ever so slightly. I fancied that to herself -she said, "Indeed!" I have never felt more utterly superfluous, more -abjectly American. She turned from me with an air that denied my -existence, a manner that indicated that such things as I _could not_ -exist, and it would be foolish to try to make her believe they did -exist. She bowed to Uncle Bainbridge, smiled as he returned her bow, and -passed on. Uncle Bainbridge's eyes followed her admiringly. - -"'Mother fine woman!" he thundered, so that she must have heard him. -"Friend of mine! Sensible woman! No frills!" - -I tried to ask him who she was, when and where he had become acquainted -with her, and a dozen other questions; but Uncle Bainbridge unplugged -himself, cutting off all communication with the outer world, and -resolutely refused any information. That he should know the lady did not -surprise me, however. It had happened several times since we had been -in England that Uncle Bainbridge had become friendly with people whom -we did not know. We never got from him any exact idea as to the social -status of these persons, and indeed we always found that he had no -really definite ideas on that subject to communicate. - -Our dear Lady Agatha was almost the only English friend my wife and I -had made. - -My wife and I were very well contented that Uncle Bainbridge's feeling -for Lady Agatha should grow stronger and stronger. We argued that while -he was so intimately friendly with dear Lady Agatha he would not be so -likely to fall a prey to any person who might want to marry him for his -wealth. So we decided to encourage the friendship in every way possible, -and would have been only too glad to have it go on indefinitely. - -"I feel so at peace about Uncle Bainbridge now," was the way my wife -expressed it, "with him and dear Lady Agatha so wrapped up in each -other." - -But this cheerful condition of affairs was not destined to last many -weeks. One day my wife received a letter from her cousin, Miss Sophia -Calderwood. Cousin Sophia was in London, and would be with us on the -coming Saturday. She had spoken of the possibility of paying us a visit -while we were in England, and of course we had urged her to do so; -although at the time the possibility had seemed rather remote to us. - -Miss Sophia was past her first youth, but still very girlish at times. -Under her girlishness there was a grim determination. She had made up -her mind to marry Uncle Bainbridge. My wife, as I have already said, -had been inclined to favour the idea, since it would keep strangers from -getting hold of Uncle Bainbridge's money. But now that Uncle Bainbridge -and Lady Agatha were getting along so well together my wife had begun -to hope that Uncle Bainbridge would never marry anybody. We both thought -the friendship might become an ideal, but none the less overmastering, -passion; one of those sacred things, you know, of the sort that keeps a -man single all his life. If Uncle Bainbridge remained unmarried out of -regard for Lady Agatha, we agreed, it would be much better for him at -his time of life than to wed Miss Sophia. - -So we both considered Miss Sophia's visit rather inopportune. Not -that we felt that Uncle Bainbridge was predisposed toward her. On the -contrary, he had always manifested more fear than affection for -her. But, I repeat, she was a determined woman. The quality of her -determination needed no better evidence than the fact that she had, to -put it vulgarly, pursued her quarry across the seas. It was evident -that the citadel of Uncle Bainbridge's heart was to undergo a terrible -assault. As for him, when he heard she was coming, he only emitted a -noncommittal snort. - -Miss Sophia, when she arrived, had apparently put in the months since we -had seen her in resolute attempts at rejuvenation. She was more girlish -than I had known her in fifteen years. And she had set up a lisp. She -greeted Uncle Bainbridge impulsively, effusively. - -"You dear man," she shrilled into his telephone, "you don't detherve -it, but gueth what I've brought you all the way acroth the ocean! A new -rethipe for apple dumplings!" - -"How?" said Uncle Bainbridge. "What say?" And when she repeated it he -said "Umph!" disconnected himself, and blew his nose loudly. He rarely -said anything to her but "Umph!" walking away afterward with now and -then a worried backward glance. - -When we told Miss Sophia about Lady Agatha, and she finally understood -the intimacy that had grown up between Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge, -she looked reproachfully at my wife, as if to say, "You have been -a traitor to my cause!" And then she announced very primly, quite -forgetting her lisp, "I am quite sure that I, for one, do not care to -make the acquaintance of this person!" - -"Cousin Sophia," said my wife sharply, "what do you mean by that?" - -"I think, Cousin Marian, that my meaning is sufficiently clear." - -"You forget," rejoined my wife icily, "that dear Lady Agatha is our -guest." - -Miss Sophia sniffed, and was silent. - -"Besides," continued Marian, "what can you possibly have against her?" - -"Marian," said Miss Sophia, "will you answer me one question?" - -"Perhaps, Cousin Sophia." - -"Cousin Marian, where, I ask you, _where_ is Sir Arthur Pelham?" - -"Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?" My wife was genuinely puzzled -by the question, and so was I. - -"Exactly!" And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. "How should you know? -I imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the -circumstances, has not been very communicative." - -"But, Cousin Sophia----" I began. - -She interrupted me. "Cousin Henry," she said, "do you mean to say that -you approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married -woman entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady -Agatha Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are -susceptible when skillfully practised upon--especially with arts which I -have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry, shameless! -If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see that the -children were sent back to America before they become contaminated by -this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been so -corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous -relationship!" - -"I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia," I ventured, "and for the -life of me I cannot see anything wrong." - -It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am -bound to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur -had been alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady -Agatha forming any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir -Arthur had been in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, -she would have exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a -close friendship with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and -Lady Agatha were in the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir -Arthur. - -"Aristocrat or not," she said, "she is indelicate, she is unladylike, -she is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to -whom she is not married." - -"I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!" said my wife, white with -anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting. - -"It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such -a brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course," said -Cousin Sophia. - -I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to -the winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she -might as well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my -wife is her only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be -permanent; for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far -many times before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got -over their temper. - -Miss Sophia, although certain now that she would receive no assistance -from my wife in her siege of Uncle Bainbridge, did not swerve from her -determination to subjugate him. I imagine it is rather difficult to give -battle when your rival is a ghost: the very intangibility of the tie -makes it hard to attack. Yet the person who is in the earth life has -certain advantages also. I do not know whether I have mentioned it -or not, but Miss Sophia could scarcely be called beautiful. One after -another, all her life, she had seen men upon whom she had set her -affection become the husbands of other women, and in her duel with the -ghost there was a quality of desperation that made the struggle, -every move of which I watched, extremely interesting. In spite of her -announcement that she did not care to meet Lady Agatha, she learned the -code by which she communicated with us, and did not absent herself from -our gatherings in the library. - -Miss Sophia must have been desperate indeed, or she would not have -resorted to the trick she used. About a week after Miss Sophia's arrival -Lady Agatha suddenly ceased to communicate with us. We grew alarmed, -wondering what could have happened to her, as the days passed and the -friendly rappings were not resumed. In the light of what happened later -I am sure that Miss Sophia deliberately drove Lady Agatha away. What -method she used I do not know. But if she had said to Lady Agatha -directly the things that she had said to us about her, the insult would -have been quite sufficient to make that proud and gentle spirit take her -departure. Likely Miss Sophia got into communication with Lady Agatha -and hurled at her the bitter question, "Where is Sir Arthur Pelham?" -Lady Agatha was not the person to enter into any vulgar quarrel, nor yet -to vouchsafe explanations concerning her personal affairs. - -Several days after Lady Agatha fell silent I heard Uncle Bainbridge -bellowing forth questions in the library. I was outside the house near -the library window, which was open. Thinking joyously that Lady Agatha -had returned to us, I stepped nearer to the window to make sure. I saw -at once, as I peeped in, that the bookcase, which set very near the -window, had been slightly moved. Miss Sophia, who was very thin, had -managed to introduce herself into the triangular space behind it--I had -mentioned that it set diagonally across one corner. She was -crouched upon the floor rapping out a conversation with Uncle -Bainbridge--impersonating Lady Agatha! Uncle Bainbridge, in front of the -bookcase, was apparently unsuspicious; nor did Miss Sophia suspect that -I saw her through the half-inch of window that commanded her hiding -place. - -"You must marry!" rapped Miss Sophia, in the character of Lady Agatha. - -"Who?" bellowed Uncle Bainbridge. - -"Miss Sophia Calderwood," said the fake ghost. - -"Aggie, I'm hanged if I do!" yelled Uncle Bainbridge. "Ask -me--something--easy!" - -"Hiram, listen carefully," began the false Lady Agatha. Then she told -him that this would be their last interview. Circumstances over which -she had no control compelled her to depart. She was to assume another -phase of existence upon another plane. She could not explain to him so -that he would understand. But her interest in him would never flag. -And she knew that he would be happier wedded to some good woman. It was -apparent to her that Miss Sophia would make him the ideal wife. He -would soon learn to love Miss Sophia. She had considerable difficulty in -getting the promise; but finally Uncle Bainbridge snorted out a pledge -that he would marry, and stumped away. - -That night he went to London. It was a week before he returned. I did -not communicate what I had seen and heard to Marion. The truth was, I -felt rather sorry for Miss Sophia. To resort to such a trick she must -have been desperate indeed. I tried to imagine what her life had been, -and not condemn her too harshly. And besides, if she was to marry Uncle -Bainbridge, which seemed settled now, I did not care to have her aware -that I knew her secret. - -During the absence of Uncle Bainbridge she became quietly radiant, as -befits one who knows that the battle is won. She was evidently certain -that he would speak definitely upon his return. - -The night that he came back he gathered us all about him in the library. -"Something to say! Important!" he shouted. - -We all assumed attitudes of attention. - -"Thinking maybe--get married!" said Uncle Bainbridge. It was just like -Uncle Bainbridge to announce the matter in the lady's presence before -having formally asked her; but I felt that it was a trifle hard on Miss -Sophia. But a glance at her reassured me on that score. She was flushed; -but it was the flush of triumph rather than the flush of embarrassment. - -"Bought a brewery!" said Uncle Bainbridge. "Good brewery! Good beer! -Like English beer! Like English people!" - -1 felt that this was a little irrelevant, and I am sure that Miss Sophia -felt the same way. - -"Bought a castle!" said Uncle Bainbridge, warming to the work. "Fine -castle! Like castles! Fix it up! Live in it! Settle here! Like England! -Fine country." - -"A castle! Oh, how lovely!" shrilled Miss Sophia, clapping her hands -girlishly. "How lovely for all of us!" - -"Not invited!" roared Uncle Bainbridge, taking us all in with one -sweeping gesture. "None of you!" - -There was silence for a moment. - -"Going to get married!" said Uncle Bainbridge, rising to his feet. "Not -Sophia! Caught Sophia--behind bookcase! Knew all the time! Sneaky trick! -Marry fine woman! Henry saw her--over the fence that day! Fine woman! -Curate's mother here! Dumplings! Fine dumplings! Learned to make 'em -for me! She don't want--to get too thick--with any my relations! She -says--all of you--are too American!" - -And as Uncle Bainbridge blew his nose loudly and sat down there was a -sudden rattle of rapping from the bookcase: nothing so articulate as -a remark in the code, but a sound more like a ripple of well-bred -laughter. This was the last we ever heard from Lady Agatha, and I have -sometimes wondered just what she meant by it. It is so hard, sometimes, -to understand just what the English are laughing at. - - - - -THE SADDEST MAN - -The bench, the barrel, and the cracker box in front of Hennery McNabb's -general store held three men, all of whom seemed to be thinking. Two of -them were not only thinking but chewing tobacco as well. The third, -more enterprising than the other two, more active, was exerting himself -prodigiously. He was thinking, chewing tobacco, and whittling all at the -same time. - -Two of the men were native and indigenous to Hazel-ton. They drew their -sustenance from the black soil of the Illinois prairie on which the -little village was perched. They were as calm and placid as the -growing corn in the fields round about, as solid and self-possessed and -leisurely as the bull-heads in the little creek down at the end of Main -Street. - -The third man was a stranger, somewhere between six and eight feet high -and so slender that one might have expected the bones to pop through the -skin, if one's attention had not been arrested by the skin itself. For -he was covered and contained by a most peculiar skin. It was dark and -rubbery-looking rather than leathery, and it seemed to be endowed with -a life of its own almost independent of the rest of the man's anatomy. -When a fly perched upon his cheek he did not raise his hand to brush it -off. The man himself did not move at all. - -But his skin moved. His skin rose up, wrinkled, twitched, rippled -beneath the fly's feet, and the fly took alarm and went away from there -as if an earthquake had broken loose under it. He was a sad-looking man. -He looked sadder than the mummy of an Egyptian king who died brooding on -what a long dry spell lay ahead of him. - -It was this third man of whom the other two men were thinking, this -melancholy stranger who sat and stared through the thick, humid heat of -the July day at nothing at all, with grievous eyes, his ego motionless -beneath the movements of his rambling skin. He had driven up the road -thirty minutes before in a flivver, had bought some chewing tobacco -of Hennery McNabb, and had set himself down in front of the store and -chewed tobacco in silence ever since. - -Finally Ben Grevis, the village grave-digger and janitor of the church, -broke through the settled stillness with a question: - -"Mister," he said, "you ain't done nothing you're afraid of being -arrested for, hev you?" - -The stranger slowly turned his head toward Ben and made a negative sign. -He did not shake his head in negation. He moved the skin of his forehead -from left to right and back again three or four times. And his eyebrows -moved as his skin moved. But his eyes remained fixed and melancholy. - -"Sometimes," suggested Hennery McNabb, who had almost tired himself out -whittling, "a man's system needs overhaulin', same as a horse's needs -drenchin'. I don't aim to push my goods on to no man, but if you was -feelin' anyway sick, inside or out, I got some of Splain's Liniment for -Man and Beast in there that might fix you up." - -"I ain't sick," said the stranger, in a low and gentle voice. - -"I never seen many fellers that looked as sad as you do," volunteered -Ben Grevis. "There was a mighty sad-lookin' tramp, that resembled you -in the face some, was arrested here for bein' drunk eight or nine years -ago, only he wasn't as tall as you an' his skin was different. After -Si Emery, our city marshal, had kep' him in the lock-up over Sunday and -turned him loose again, it come to light he was wanted over in I'way for -killin' a feller with a piece of railroad iron." - -"I ain't killed anybody with any railroad iron over in I'way," said the -lengthy man. And he added, with a sigh: "Nor nowheres else, neither." - -Hennery McNabb, who disagreed with everyone on principle--he was the -Village Atheist, and proud of it--addressed himself to Ben Grevis. "This -feller ain't nigh as sad-lookin' as that tramp looked," said Hennery. -"I've knowed any number of fellers sadder-lookin' than this feller -here." - -"I didn't say this feller here was the saddest-lookin' feller I ever -seen," said Ben Grevis. "All I meant was that he is sadder-lookin' than -the common run of fellers." While Hennery disagreed with all the world, -Ben seldom disagreed with any one but Hennery. They would argue by the -hour, on religious matters, always beginning with Hennery's challenge: -"Ben Grevis, tell me just one thing if you can, _where_ did Cain get his -wife?" and always ending with Ben's statement: "I believe the Book from -kiver to kiver." - -The tall man with the educated skin--it was educated, very evidently, -for with a contraction of the hide on the back of his hand he -nonchalantly picked up a shaving that had blown his way--spoke to Ben -and Hennery in the soft and mild accents that seemed habitual to him: - -"Where did you two see sadder-lookin' fellers than I be?" - -"Over in Indianny," said Hennery, "there's a man so sad that you're one -of these here laughin' jackasses 'longside o' him." - -And, being encouraged, Hennery proceeded. - -This here feller (said Hennery McNabb) lived over in Brown County, -Indianny, but he didn't come from there original. He come from down in -Kentucky some-wheres and his name was Peevy, Bud Peevy. He was one of -them long, lank fellers, like you, stranger, but he wasn't as long and -his skin didn't sort o' wander around and wag itself like it was a tail. - -It was from the mountain districts he come. I was visitin' a brother of -mine in the county-seat town of Brown County then, and this Bud Peevy -was all swelled up with pride when I first knowed him. He was proud -of two things. One was that he was the champeen corn-licker drinker -in Kentucky. It was so he give himself out. And the other thing he -was prouder yet of. It was the fact, if fact it was, that he was the -Decidin' Vote in a national election--that there election you all -remember, the first time Bryan run for President and McKinley was -elected. - -This here Bud Peevy, you understand, wasn't really sad when I first -knowed him: he only _looked_ sad. His sadness that matched his innard -feelin's up to his outward looks come on to him later. He was all-fired -proud when I first knowed him. He went expandin' and extendin' of -himself around everywheres tellin' them Indianny people how it was him, -personal, that elected McKinley and saved the country from that there -free-silver ruination. And the fuller he was of licker, the longer he -made this here story, and the fuller, as you might say, of increditable -strange events. - -Accordin' to him, on that election day in 1896 he hadn't planned to go -and vote, for it was quite a ways to the polls from his place and his -horse had fell lame and he didn't feel like walkin'. He figgered his -district would go safe for McKinley, anyhow, and he wouldn't need to -vote. He was a strong Republican, and when a Kentuckian is a Republican -there ain't no stronger kind. - -But along about four o'clock in the afternoon a man comes ridin' up to -his house with his horse all a lather of foam and sweat, and the horse -was one of these here Kentucky thoroughbred race horses that must 'a' -travelled nigh a mile a minute, to hear Bud Peevy tell of it, and that -horse gives one groan like a human bein' and falls dead at Bud Peevy's -feet afore the rider can say a word, and the rider is stunned. - -But Bud Peevy knowed him for a Republican county committeeman, and he -poured some corn licker down his throat and he revived to life again. -The feller yells to Bud as soon as he can get his breath to go to town -and vote, quick, as the polls will close in an hour, and everybody else -in that district has voted but Bud, and everyone has been kep' track of, -and the vote is a tie. - -It's twelve miles to the pollin' place from Bud's farm in the hills -and it is a rough country, but Bud strikes out runnin' acrost hills and -valleys with three pints of corn licker in his pockets for to refresh -himself from time to time. Bud, he allowed he was the best runner in -Kentucky, and he wouldn't 'a' had any trouble, even if he did have to -run acrost mountains and hurdle rocks, to make the twelve miles in an -hour, but there was a lot of cricks and rivers in that country and -there had been a gosh-a-mighty big rain the night before and all them -cricks had turned into rivers and all them rivers had turned into -roarin' oceans and Niagara catarac's. But Bud, he allows he is the best -swimmer in Kentucky, and when he comes to a stream he takes a swig of -corn licker and jumps in and swims acrost, boots and all--for he was -runnin' in his big cowhides, strikin' sparks of fire from the mountains -with every leap he made. - -Five times he was shot at by Democrats in the first six miles, and in -the seventh mile the shootin' was almost continual, and three or four -times he was hit, but he kep' on. It seems the Democrats had got wind he -had been sent for to turn the tide and a passel of 'em was out among the -hills with rifles to stop him if they could. But he is in too much of a -hurry to bandy words with 'em, and he didn't have his gun along, which -he regretted, he says, as he is the best gun fighter in Kentucky and he -keeps on a-runnin' and a-swimmin' and a-jumpin' cricks and a-hurdlin' -rocks with the bullets whizzin' around him and the lightnin' strikin' in -his path, for another big storm had come up, and no power on this here -earth could head him off, he says, for it come to him like a Voice from -on High he was the preordained messenger and hero who was goin' to turn -the tide and save the country from this here free-silver ruination. -About two miles from the pollin' place, jist as he jumps into the last -big river, two men plunges into the water after him with dirks, and -one of them he gets quick, but the other one drags Bud under the water, -stabbin' and jabbin' at him. There is a terrible stabbin' and stickin' -battle way down under the water, which is runnin' so fast that big -stones the size of a cow is being rolled down stream, but Bud he don't -mind the stones, and he can swim under water as well as on top of it, he -says, and he's the best knife fighter in Kentucky, he says, and he soon -fixes that feller and swims to shore with his knife in his teeth, and -now he's only got one more mountain to cross. - -But a kind of hurricane has sprung up and turned into a cyclone in there -among the hills, and as he goes over the top of that last mountain, -lickety-split, in the dark and wind and rain, he blunders into a whole -passel of rattlesnakes that has got excited by the elements. But he fit -his way through 'em, thankin' God he had nearly a quart of licker left -to take for the eight or ten bites he got, and next there rose up in -front of him two of them big brown bears, and they was wild with rage -because the storm had been slingin' boulders at 'em. One of them bears -he sticked with his knife and made short work of, but the other one give -him quite a tussel, Bud says, afore he conquered it and straddled it. -And it was a lucky thing for him, he says, that he caught that bear -in time, for he was gittin' a leetle weak with loss of blood and snake -bites and battlin' with the elements. Bud, he is the best rider in -Kentucky, and it wasn't thirty seconds afore that bear knowed a master -was a-ridin' of it, and in five minutes more Bud, he gallops up to that -pollin' place, right through the heart of the hurricane, whippin' that -bear with rattlesnakes to make it go faster, and he jumps off and cracks -his boot heels together and gives a yell and casts the decidin' vote -into the ballot box. He had made it with nearly ten seconds to spare. - -Well, accordin' to Bud Peevy that there one vote carries the day for -McKinley in that county and not only in that county alone, but in that -electorial district, and that electorial district gives McKinley the -State of Kentucky, which no Republican had ever carried Kentucky for -President for afore. And two or three other States was hangin' back -keepin' their polls open late to see how Kentucky would go, and when -it was flashed by telegraph all over the country that Bud Peevy was -carryin' Kentucky for McKinley, them other States joined in with -Kentucky and cast their electorial votes that-a-way, too, and McKinley -was elected President. - -So Bud figgers he has jist naturally elected that man President and -saved the country--he is the one that was the Decidin' Vote for this -whole derned republic. And, as I said, he loves to tell about it. It was -in 1896 that Bud saved the country and it was in 1900 that he moved to -Brown County, Indianny, and started in with his oratin' about what a -great man he was, and givin' his political opinions about this, that -and the other thing, like he might 'a' been President himself. Bein' the -Decidin' Vote that-a-way made him think he jist about run this country -with his ideas. - -He's been hangin' around the streets in his new home, the county town of -Brown County, for five or six weeks, in the summer of 1900, tellin' what -a great feller he is, and bein' admired by everybody, when one day the -news comes that the U. S. Census for 1900 has been pretty nigh finished, -and that the Centre of Population for the whole country falls in Brown -County. Well, you can understand that's calculated to make folks in that -county pretty darned proud. - -But the proudest of them all was a feller by the name of Ezekiel -Humphreys. It seems these here government sharks had it figgered out -that the centre of population fell right on to where this here Zeke -Humphrey's farm was, four or five miles out of town. - -And Zeke, he figgers that he, himself, personal, has become the Centre -of Population. - -Zeke hadn't never been an ambitious man. He hadn't never gone out and -courted any glory like that, nor schemed for it nor thought of it. But -he was a feller that thought well enough of himself, too. He had been a -steady, hard-workin' kind of man all his life, mindin' his own business -and payin' his debts, and when this here glory comes to him, bein' chose -out of ninety millions of people, as you might say, to be the one and -only Centre of Population, he took it as his just due and was proud of -it. - -"You see how the office seeks the man, if the man is worthy of it!" -says Zeke. And everybody liked Zeke that knowed him, and was glad of his -glory. - -Well, one day this here Decidin' Vote, Bud Peevy, comes to town to -fill himself up on licker and tell how he saved the country, and he is -surprised because he don't get nobody to listen to him. And pretty soon -he sees the reason for it. There's a crowd of people on Main Street all -gathered around Zeke Humphreys and all congratulatin' him on being the -Centre of Population. And they was askin' his opinion on politics and -things. Zeke is takin' it modest and sensible, but like a man that -knowed he deserved it, too. Bud Peevy, he listens for a while, and he -sniffs and snorts, but nobody pays any 'tention to him. Finally, he -can't keep his mouth shut any longer, and he says: - -"Politics! Politics! To hear you talk, a fellow'd think you really got a -claim to talk about politics!" - -Zeke, he never was any trouble hunter, but he never run away from it, -neither. - -"Mebby," says Zeke, not het up any, but right serious and -determined-like, "mebby you got more claim to talk about politics than I -have?" - -"I shore have," says Bud Peevy. "I reckon I got more claim to be -hearkened to about politics than any other man in this here whole -country. I'm the Decidin' Vote of this here country, I am!" - -"Well, gosh-ding my melts!" says Zeke Humphreys. "You ain't proud of -yourself, nor nothin', are you?" - -"No prouder nor what I got a right to be," says Bud Peevy, "considerin' -what I done." - -"Oh, yes, you be!" says Zeke Humphreys. "You been proudin' yourself -around here for weeks now all on account o' that decidin' vote business. -And _anybody_ might 'a' been a Decidin' Vote. A Decidin' Vote don't -amount to nothin' 'longside a Centre of Population." - -"Where would your derned population be if I hadn't went and saved this -here country for 'em?" asks Bud Peevy. - -"Be?" says Zeke. "They'd be right where they be now, if you'd never been -born nor heard tell on, that's where they'd be. And I'd be the centre of -'em, jist like I be now!" - -"And what _air_ you now?" says Bud Peevy, mighty mean and -insultin'-like. "You ain't nothin' but a accident, you ain't! What I -got, I fit for and I earnt. But you ain't nothin' but a happenin'!" - -Them seemed like mighty harsh words to Zeke, for he figgered his glory -was due to him on account of the uprighteous life he always led, and so -he says: - -"Mister, anybody that says I ain't nothin' but a happenin' is a liar." - -"1 kin lick my weight in rattlesnakes," yells Bud Peevy, "and I've done -it afore this! And I tells you once again, and flings it in your face, -that you ain't nothin' but a accidental happenin'!" - -"You're a liar, then!" says Zeke. - -With that Bud Peevy jerks his coat off and spits on to his hands. - -"Set yo'self, man," says he; "the whirlwind's cornin'!" And he makes -a rush at Zeke. Bud is a good deal taller'n Zeke, but Zeke is sort o' -bricky-red and chunky like a Dutch Reformed Church, and when this here -Peevy comes on to him with a jump Zeke busts him one right on to the -eye. It makes an uncheerful noise like 1 heard one time when Dan Lively, -the butcher acrost the street there, hit a steer in the head with a -sledge hammer. Bud, he sets down sudden, and looks surprised out of -the eye that hadn't went to war yet. But he must 'a' figgered it was a -accident for he don't set there long. He jumps up and rushes again. - -"I'm a wildcat! I'm a wildcat!" yells this here Bud. And Zeke, he -collisions his fist with the other eye, and Bud sets down the second -time. I won't say this here Zeke's hands was as big as a quarter of -beef. The fact is, they wasn't that big. But I seen that fight myself, -and there was somethin' about the size and shape of his fist when it -was doubled up that kind o' _reminded_ me of a quarter of beef. Only his -fists was harder than a quarter of beef. I guess Zeke's fists was about -as hard as a hickory log that has been gettin' itself soaked and dried -and seasoned for two or three years. I heard a story about Zeke and a -mule that kicked him one time, but I didn't see it myself and I dunno' -as it's all true. The word was that Zeke jist picked up that mule after -it kicked him and frowned at it and told it if it ever done that again -he would jist naturally pull off the leg that it kicked him with -and turn it loose to hop away on three legs, and he cuffed that mule -thorough and thoughtful and then he took it by one hind leg and fore leg -and jounced it against a stone barn and told it to behave its fool self. -It always seemed to me that story had been stretched a mite, but that -was one of the stories they telled on Zeke. - -But this here Bud Peevy is game. He jumps up again with his two eyes -lookin' like a skillet full of tripe and onions and makes another rush -at Zeke. And this time he gets his hands on to Zeke and they rastles -back and forth. But Bud, while he is a strong fellow, he ain't no ways -as strong as a mule even if he is jist as sudden and wicked, so Zeke -throws him down two or three times. Bud, he kicks Zeke right vicious -and spiteful into the stomach, and when he done that Zeke began to get -a little cross. So he throwed Bud down again and this time he set on top -of him. - -"Now, then," says Zeke, bangin' Bud's head on to the sidewalk, "am I a -happenin', or am I on purpose?" - -"Lemme up," says Bud. "Leggo my whiskers and lemme up! You ain't licked -me any, but them ol' wounds I got savin' this country is goin' to bust -open ag'in. I kin feel 'em bustin'." - -"I didn't start this," says Zeke, "but I'm a-goin' to finish it. Now, -then, am I a accident, or was I meant?" - -"It's a accident you ever got me down," says Bud, "Whether you are a -accident yourself or not." - -Zeke jounces his head on the sidewalk some more and he says: "You answer -better nor that! You go further! You tell me whether I'm on purpose or -not!" - -"You was meant for somethin'," says Bud, "but you can't make me say -what! You can bang my head off and I won't say what. Two or three of -them bullets went into my neck right where you're bendin' it and I feel -them ol' wounds bustin' open." - -"I don't believe you got no ol' wounds," says Zeke, "and I don't believe -you ever saved no country and I'm gonna keep you here till I've banged -some sense and politeness into your head." - -Bud, he gives a yell and a twist, and bites Zeke's wrist; Zeke slapped -him some, and Bud ketched one of Zeke's fingers into his mouth and nigh -bit it off afore Zeke got it loose. Zeke, he was a patient man and right -thoughtful and judicious, but he had got kind o' cross when Bud kicked -him into the stomach, and now this biting made him a leetle mite -crosser. I cal'ated if Bud wasn't careful he'd get Zeke really riled up -pretty soon and get his fool self hurt. Zeke, he takes Bud by the ears -and slams his head till I thought the boards in that sidewalk was goin' -to be busted. - -"Now, then," says Zeke, lettin' up for a minute, "has the Centre of -Population got a right to talk politics, or ain't he? You say he is got -a right, or I mebby will fergit myself and get kind o' rough with you." - -"This here country I saved is a free country," says Bud Peevy, kind o' -sick an' feeble, "and any one that lives in this here country I saved -has got a right to talk politics, I reckon." - -Zeke, he took that for an answer and got good-natured and let Bud up. -Bud, he wipes the blood off'n his face and ketches his breath an' gits -mean again right away. - -"If my constitution hadn't been undermined savin' this here country," -says Bud, "you never could 'a' got me down like that! And you ain't -heard the end of this argyment yet, neither! I'm a-goin' for my gun, and -we'll shoot it out!" - -But the townspeople interfered and give Bud to understand he couldn't -bring no guns into a fight, like mebby he would 'a' done in them -mountain regions he was always talkin' about; an' told him if he was to -start gunnin' around they would get up a tar-and-feather party and he -would be the reception committee. They was all on Zeke's side and they'd -all got kind o' tired listenin' to Bud Peevy, anyhow. Zeke was their own -hometown man, and so they backed him. All that glory had come to Brown -County and they wasn't goin' to see it belittled by no feller from -another place. - -Bud Peevy, for two or three weeks, can't understand his glory has left -him, and he goes braggin' around worse than ever. But people only grins -and turns away; nobody will hark to him when he talks. When Bud tries -to tell his story it gets to be quite the thing to look at him and -say: "Lemme up! Leggo my whiskers! Lemme up!"--like he said when Zeke -Humphreys had him down. And so it was he come to be a byword around -town. Kids would yell at him on the street, to plague him, and he would -get mad and chase them kids, and when folks would see him runnin' after -the kids they would yell: "Hey! Hey, Bud Peevy! You could go faster if -you was to ride a bear!" Or else they would yell: "Whip yourself with a -rattlesnake, Bud, and get up some speed!" - -His glory had been so big and so widespread for so long that when it -finally went, there jist wasn't a darned thing left to him. His heart -busted in his bosom. He wouldn't talk about nothin'. He jist slinked -around. He was most pitiful because he wasn't used to misfortune like -some people. - -And he couldn't pack up his goods and move away from that place. For he -had come there to live with a married daughter and his son-in-law, and -if he left there he would have to get a steady job working at somethin' -and support himself. And Bud didn't want to risk that. For that wild run -he made the time he saved the country left him strained clean down to -the innards of his constitution, he says, and he wa'n't fit to work. But -the thing that put the finishing touches on to him was when a single -daughter that he had fell into love with Zeke Humphreys, who was a -widower, and married herself to him. His own flesh and blood has -disowned him, Bud says. So he turns sad, and he was the saddest man 1 -ever seen. He was sadder than you look to be, stranger. - -The stranger with the educated skin breathed a gentle sigh at the -conclusion of Hennery's tale of the Deciding Vote and the Centre of -Population, and then he said: - -"I don't doubt Bud Peevy was a sad man. But there's sadder things -than what happened to Bud Peevy. There's things that touches the heart -closer." - -"Stranger," said Ben Grevis, "you've said it! But Hennery, here, don't -know anything about the heart bein' touched." - -Hennery McNabb seemed to enjoy the implication, rather than to resent -it. Ben Grevis continued: - -"A sadder thing than what happened to Bud Peevy is goin' on a good deal -nearer home than Indianny. - -"I ain't the kind of a feller that goes running to Indianny and to -Kentucky and all over the known earth for examples of sadness, nor -nothin' else. We got as good a country right here in Illinois as there -is on top of the earth and I'm one that always sticks up for home folks -and home industries. Hennery, here, ain't got any patriotism. And he -ain't got any judgment. He don't know what's in front of him. But right -here in our home county, not five miles from where we are, sets a case -of sadness that is one of the saddest I ever seen or knowed about. - -"Hennery, here, he don't know how sad it is, for he's got no finer -feelin's. A free thinker like Hennery can't be expected to have no finer -feelin's. And this case is a case of a woman." - -"A woman!" sighed the stranger. "If a woman is mixed up with it, it -could have finer feelin's and sadness in it!" And a ripple of melancholy -ran over him from head to foot. - -This here woman (said Ben Grevis) lives over to Hickory Grove, in the -woods, and everybody for miles around calls her Widder Watson. - -Widder Watson, she has buried four or five husbands, and you can see her -any day that it ain't rainin' settin' in the door of her little -house, smokin' of her corn-cob pipe, and lookin' at their graves and -speculatin' and wonderin'. I talked with her a good deal from time -to time durin' the last three or four years, and the things she is -speculatin' on is life and death, and them husbands she has buried, -and children. But that ain't what makes her so sad. It's wishin' for -somethin' that, it seems like, never can be, that is makin' her so sad. - -She has got eighteen or twenty children, Widder Watson has, runnin' -around them woods. Them woods is jist plumb full of her children. You -wouldn't dare for to try to shoot a rabbit anywhere near them woods for -fear of hittin' one. - -And all them children has got the most beautiful and peculiar names, -that Widder Watson got out of these here drug-store almanacs. She's been -a great reader all her life, Widder Watson has, but all her readin' has -been done in these here almanacs. You know how many different kinds -of almanacs there always are layin' around drug-stores, I guess. Well, -every two or three months Widder Watson goes to town and gets a new -bale of them almanacs and then she sets and reads 'em. She goes to -drug-stores in towns as far as twelve or fifteen miles away to keep -herself supplied. - -She never cared much for readin' novels and story papers, she tells me. -What she wants is somethin' that has got some true information in it, -about the way the sun rises, and the tides in the oceans she has never -saw, and when the eclipses is going to be, and different kinds of -diseases new and old, and receipts for preserves and true stories about -how this or that wonderful remedy come to be discovered. Mebby it was -discovered by the Injuns in this country, or mebby it was discovered -by them there Egyptians in the old country away back in King Pharaoh's -time, and mebby she's got some of the same sort of yarbs and plants -right there in her own woods. Well, Widder Watson, she likes that kind -o' readin', and she knows all about the Seven Wonders of the World, and -all the organs and ornaments inside the human carcass, and the kind o' -pains they are likely to have and all about what will happen to you if -the stars says this or that and how long the Mississippi River is and a -lot of them old-time prophecies of signs and marvels what is to come to -pass yet. You know about what the readin' is in them almanacs, mebby. - -Widder Watson, she has got a natural likin' for fine words, jist the -same as some has got a gift for hand-paintin' or playin' music or -recitin' pieces of poetry or anything like that. And so it was quite -natural, when her kids come along, she names 'em after the names in her -favourite readin' matter. And she gets so she thinks more of the names -of them kids than of nearly anything else. I ain't sayin' she thinks -more of the names than she does of the kids, but she likes the names -right next to the kids. Every time she had a baby she used to sit and -think for weeks and weeks, so she tells me, for to get a good name for -that baby, and select and select and select out of them almanacs. - -Her oldest girl, that everybody calls Zody, is named Zodiac by rights. -And then there's Carty, whose real name is Cartilege, and Anthy, whose -full name is Anthrax, and so on. There's Peruna and Epidermis and -Epidemic and Pisces. - -I dunno as I can remember all them swell names. There's Perry, whose -real name is Perihelion, and there's Whitsuntide and Tonsillitis and -Opodeldoc and a lot more--I never could remember all them kids. - -And there ain't goin' to be no more on 'em, for the fact of the matter -seems to be that Widder Watson ain't likely to ever get another husband. -It's been about four years since Jim Watson, her last one, died, and was -buried in there amongst the hickory second-growth and hazel bushes, and -since that day there ain't nobody come along that road a-courtin' Widder -Watson. And that's what makes her sad. She can't understand it, never -havin' been without a husband for so long before, and she sets and -grieves and grieves and smokes her corn-cob pipe and speculates and -grieves some more. - -Now, don't you get no wrong idea about Widder Watson. She ain't so -all-fired crazy about men. It ain't that. That ain't what makes her -grieve. She is sad because she wants another baby to pin a name to. - -For she has got the most lovely name out of a new almanac for that there -kid that will likely never be born, and she sets there day after day, -and far into the night, lookin' at them graves in the brush, and talkin' -to the clouds and stars, and sayin' that name over and over to herself, -and sighin' and weepin' because that lovely name will be lost and -unknown and wasted forevermore, with no kid to tack it on to. - -And she hopes and yearns and grieves for another man to marry her and -wonders why none of 'em never does. Well, I can see why they don't. The -truth is, Widder Watson don't fix herself up much any more. She goes -barefooted most of the time in warm weather, and since she got so -sad-like she don't comb her hair much. And them corn-cob pipes of hern -ain't none too savory. But I 'spose she thinks of herself as bein' jist -the same way she was the last time she took the trouble to look into the -lookin' glass and she can't understand it. - -"Damn the men, Ben," she says to me, the last time I was by there, -"what's the matter with 'em all? Ain't they got no sense any more? I -never had no trouble ketchin' a man before this! But here I been settin' -for three or four years, with eighty acres of good land acrost the road -there, and a whole passel o' young uns to work it, and no man comes to -court me. There was a feller along here two-three months ago I did -have some hopes on. He come a-palaverin' and a-blarneyin' along, and he -stayed to dinner and I made him some apple dumplin's, and he et an' et -and palavered. - -"But it turned out he was really makin' up to that gal, Zody, of mine. -It made me so darned mad, Ben, I runned him off the place with Jeff -Parker's shotgun that is hangin' in there, and then I took a hickory -sprout to that there Zody and tanned her good, for encouragin' of him. -You remember Jeff Parker, Ben? He was my second. You wasn't thinkin' of -gettin' married ag'in yourself, was you, Ben?" - -I told her I wasn't. That there eighty acres is good land, and they -ain't no mortgages on it, nor nothin', but the thought of bein' added to -that collection in amongst the hazel brush and hickory sprouts is enough -for to hold a man back. And the Widder Watson, she don't seem to realize -she orter fix herself up a little mite. But I'm sorry for her, jist -the same. There she sets and mourns, sayin' that name over and over -to herself, and a-grievin' and a-hopin', and all the time she knows it -ain't much use to hope. And a sadder sight than you will see over -there to Hickory Grove ain't to be found in the whole of the State of -Illinois. - -"That is a mighty sad picture you have drawed," said the stranger, when -Ben Grevis had finished, "but I'm a sadder man for a man than that there -woman is for a woman." - -He wrinkled all over, he almost grinned, if one could think of him as -grinning, when he mentioned "that there woman." It was as if he tasted -some ulterior jest, and found it bitter, in connection with "that there -woman." After a pause, in which he sighed several times, he remarked in -his tired and gentle voice: - -"There's two kinds of sadness, gentlemen. There is the melancholy -sadness that has been with you for so long that you have got used to -it and kind o' enjoy it in a way. And then there's the kind o' sadness -where you go back on yourself, where you make your own mistakes and fall -below your own standards, and that is a mighty bitter kind of sadness." - -He paused again, while the skin wreathed itself into funeral wreaths -about his face, and then he said, impressively: - -"Both of them kinds of sadness I have known. First I knowed the -melancholy kind, and now I know the bitter kind." - -The first sadness that I had lasted for years (said the stranger with -the strange skin). It was of the melancholy kind, tender and sort o' -sweet, and if I had been the right kind of a man I would 'a' stuck to it -and kept it. But I went back on it. I turned my face away from it. And -in going back on it I went back on all them old, sad, sweet memories, -like the songs tell about, that was my better self. And that is what -caused the sadness I am in the midst of now. It's the feelin' that I -done wrong in turnin' away from all them memories that makes me as sad -as you see me to-day. I will first tell you how the first sadness come -on to me, and secondly I will tell you how I got the sadness I am in the -midst of now. - -Gentlemen, mebby you have noticed that my skin is kind o' different from -most people's skin. That is a gift, and there was a time when I made -money off'n that gift. And I got another gift. I'm longer and slimmer -than most persons is. And besides them two gifts, I got a third gift. I -can eat glass, gentlemen, and it don't hurt me none. I can eat glass as -natural and easy as a chicken eats gravel. And them three gifts is my -art. - -I was an artist in a side-show for years, gentlemen, and connected with -one of the biggest circuses in the world. I could have my choice of -three jobs with any show I was with, and there ain't many could say -that. I could be billed as the India Rubber Man, on account of my skin, -or I could be billed as the Living Skeleton, on account of my framework, -or I could be billed as the Glass Eater. And once or twice I was billed -as all three. - -But mostly I didn't bother much with eating glass or being a Living -Skeleton. Mostly I stuck to being an India Rubber Man. It always seemed -to me there was more art in that, more chance to show talent and genius. -The gift that was given to me by Providence I developed and trained -till I could do about as much with my skin as most people can with their -fingers. It takes constant work and practice to develop a skin, even -when Nature has been kind to you like she has to me. - -For years I went along contented enough, seein' the country and being -admired by young and old, and wondered at and praised for my gift and -the way I had turned it into an art, and never thinkin' much of women -nor matrimony nor nothing of that kind. - -But when a man's downfall is put off, it is harder when it comes. When -I fell in love I fell good and hard. I fell into love with a pair of -Siamese twins. These here girls was tied together somewheres about the -waist line with a ligament of some kind, and there wasn't no fake about -it--they really was tied. On account of motives of delicacy I never -asked 'em much about that there ligament. The first pair of twins like -that who was ever on exhibition was from Siam, so after that they called -all twins of that kind Siamese twins. But these girls wasn't from none -of them outlandish parts; they was good American girls, born right over -in Ohio, and their names was Jones. Hetty Jones and Netty Jones was -their names. - -Hetty, she was the right-hand twin, and Netty was the left-hand twin. -And you never seen such lookers before in your life, double nor single. -They was exactly alike and they thought alike and they talked alike. -Sometimes when I used to set and talk to 'em I felt sure they was -just one woman. If I could 'a' looked at 'em through one of these here -stereoscopes they would 'a' come together and been one woman, I never -had any idea about 'em bein' two women. - -Well, I courted 'em, and they was mighty nice to me, both of 'em. I used -to give 'em candy and flowers and little presents and I would set and -admire 'em by the hour. I kept gettin' more and more into love with -them. And I seen they was gettin' to like me, too. - -So one day I outs with it. - -"Will you marry me?" says I. - -"Yes," says Hetty. And, "Yes," says Netty. Both in the same breath! And -then each one looked at the other one, and they both looked at me, and -they says, both together: - -"Which one of us did you ask?" - -"Why," says I, kind o' flustered, "there ain't but one of you, is they? -I look on you as practically one woman." - -"The idea!" says Netty. - -"You orter be ashamed of yourself," says Hetty. - -"You didn't think," says Netty, "that you could marry both of us, did -you?" - -Well, all I had really thought up to that time was that I was in love -with 'em, and just as much in love with one as with the other, and -I popped the question right out of my heart and sentiments without -thinking much one way or the other. But now I seen there was going to be -a difficulty. - -"Well," I says, "if you want to consider yourself as two people, I -suppose it would be marryin' both of you. But I always thought of you as -two hearts that beat as one. And I don't see no reason why I shouldn't -marry the two of you, if you want to hold out stubborn that you _are_ -two." - -"For my part," says Hetty, "I think you are insulting." - -"You must choose between us," says Netty. - -"I would never," says Hetty, "consent to any Mormonous goings-on of that -sort." - -They still insisted they was two people till finally I kind o' got to -see their side of the argyment. But how was I going to choose between -them when no matter which one I chooses she was tied tight to the other -one? - -We agreed to talk it over with the Fat Lady in that show, who had a good -deal of experience in concerns of the heart and she had been married -four or five times and was now a widder, having accidental killed her -last husband by rolling over on him in her sleep. She says to me: - -"How happy you could be with either, Skinny, were t'other dear charmer -away!" - -"This ain't no jokin' matter, Dolly," I tells her. "We come for serious -advice." - -"Skinny, you old fool," she says, "there's an easy way out of this -difficulty. All you got to do is get a surgeon to cut that ligament and -then take your choice." - -"But I ain't really got any choice," I says, "for I loves 'em both and I -loves 'em equal. And I don't believe in tamperin' with Nature." - -"It ain't legal for you to marry both of 'em," says the Fat Lady. - -"It ain't moral for me to cut 'em asunder," I says. - -I had a feelin' all along that if they was cut asunder trouble of some -kind would follow. But both Hetty and Netty was strong for it. They -refused to see me or have anything to do with me, they sent me word, -till I give up what they called the insultin' idea of marryin' both of -'em. They set and quarrelled with each other all the time, the Fat -Lady told me, because they was jealous of each other. Bein' where they -couldn't get away from each other even for a minute, that jealousy must -have et into them something unusual. And finally, I knuckled under. I -let myself be overrulled. I seen I would lose both of 'em unless I made -a choice. So I sent 'em word by the Fat Lady that I would choose. But I -knowed deep in my heart all the time that no good would come of it. You -can't go against Scripter and prosper; and the Scripter says: "What God -has joined together, let no man put asunder." - -Well, we fixed it up this way: I was to pay for that there operation, -having money saved up for to do it with, and then I was to make my -choice by chance. The Fat Lady says to toss a penny or something. - -But I always been a kind of a romantic feller, and I says to myself I -will make that choice in some kind of a romantic way. So first I tried -one of these ouija boards, but all I get is "Etty, Etty, Etty," over and -over again, and whether the ouija left off an H or an N there's no way -of telling. The Fat Lady, she says: "Why don't you count 'em out, like -kids do, to find out who is It?" - -"How do you mean?" I asks her. - -"Why," says she, "by saying, 'Eeny meeny, miney, mo!' or else 'Monkey, -monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys have we here?' or something -like that." - -But that ain't romantic enough to suit me and I remember how you pluck a -daisy and say: "She loves me! She loves me not!" And I think I will -get an American beauty rose and do it that way. Well, they had the -operation, and it was a success. And about a week later I'm to go to the -hospital and tell 'em which one has been elected to the holy bonds of -matrimony. I gets me a rose, one of the most expensive that money can -buy in the town we was in, and when I arrive at the hospital I start up -the front steps pluckin' the leaves off and sayin' to myself: "Hetty she -is! Netty she is! Hetty she is!"--and so on. But I never got that rose -all plucked. - -I knowed all along that it was wrong to put asunder what God had joined -together, and I orter stuck to the hunch I had. You can't do anything -to a freak without changing his or her disposition some way. You take -a freak that was born that way and go to operating on him, and if he is -good-natured he'll turn out a grouch, or if he was a grouch he'll turn -out good-natured. I knowed a dog-faced boy one time who was the sunniest -critter you ever seen. But his folks got hold of a lot of money and took -him out of the business and had his features all slicked up and made -over, and what he gained in looks he lost in temper and disposition. -Any tinkering you do around artists of that class will change their -sentiments every time. - -I never got that rose all plucked. At the top of the steps I was met by -Hetty and Netty, just cornin' out of the hospital and not expectin' to -see me. With one of them was a young doctor that worked in the hospital -and with the other was a patient that had just got well. They explained -to me that as soon as they had that operation their sentiments toward me -changed. Before, they had both loved me. Afterwards, neither one of -'em did. They was right sorry about it, they said, but they had married -these here fellows that morning in the hospital, with a double wedding, -and was now starting off on their wedding trips, and their husbands -would pay back the operation money as soon as they had earned it and -saved it up. - -Well, I was so flabbergasted that my skin stiffened up on me, and it -stayed stiff for the rest of that day. I never said a word, but I turned -away from there a sad man with a broken heart in my bosom. And I quit -bein' an artist. I didn't have the sperrit to be in a show any more. - -And through all the years since then I been a saddened man. But as time -went by there come a kind of sweetness into that sadness, too. It is -better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, like -the poet says. I was one of the saddest men in the world, but I sort o' -enjoyed it, after a few years. And all them memories sort o' kept me a -better man. - -I orter stuck to that kind of sweet sadness. I orter knowed that if I -went back on all them beautiful memories of them girls something bitter -would come to me. - -But I didn't, gentlemen. I went back on all that sentiment and that -tenderness. I betrayed all them beautiful memories. Five days ago, I -went and married. Yes, sir, I abandoned all that sweet recollection. -And I been livin' in hell ever since. I been reproachin' myself day and -night for not provin' true and trustworthy to all that romantic sadness -I had all them years. It was a sweet sadness, and I wasn't faithful to -it. And so long as I live now I will have this here bitter sadness. - -The stranger got up and sighed and stretched himself. He took a fresh -chew of tobacco, and began to crank his flivver. - -"Well," said Ben Grevis, "that is a sad story. But I don't know as -you're sadder, at that, than the Widder Watson is." - -The stranger spat colourfully into the road, and again the faint -semblance of a smile, a bitter smile, wreathed itself about his mouth. - -"Yes, I be!" he said, "I be a sadder person than the Widder Watson. It -was her I married!" - - - - -DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) - -If you are a dog of any sense, you will pick you out a pretty good sort -of a boy and stick to him. These dogs that are always adopting one boy -after another get a bad name among the humans in the end. And you'd -better keep in with the humans, especially the grown-up ones. Getting -your scraps off a plate at the back door two or three times a day beats -hunting rabbits and ground-squirrels for a living. - -What a dog wants is a boy anywhere from about nine to about sixteen -years old. A boy under nine hasn't enough sense, as a rule, to be any -company for an intelligent dog. And along about sixteen they begin to -dress up and try to run with the girls, and carry on in a 'way to make -a dog tired. There are exceptions of course--one of the worst mistakes -some dogs make is to suppose that all boys are alike. That isn't true; -you'll find just as much individuality among boys as there is among -us dogs, if you're patient enough to look for it and have a knack for -making friends with animals. But you must remember to be kind to a boy -if you're going to teach him anything; and you must be careful not to -frighten him. - -At the same time, you must keep a boy in his place at once. My -boy--Freckles Watson is his name--understands just how far he can go -with me. But some dogs have to give their boys a lesson now and then. -Jack Thompson, who is a fine, big, good-natured dog, has a boy like -that. The boy's name is Squint--Squint Thompson, he is--and he gets -a little overbearing at times. I remember one Saturday afternoon last -summer in particular. There were a lot of us dogs and boys fooling -around up at Clayton's swimming-hole, including some stray boys with -no dogs to look after them, when Squint began to show off by throwing -sticks into the water and making Jack swim in and get 'em. Jack didn't -mind that, but after a while he got pretty tired and flopped down on the -grass, and wouldn't budge. - -"Grab him by the tail and the scruff of the neck, and pitch him in, -Squint," says my boy, Freckles. "It's a lot of fun to duck a dog." - -Squint went over to where Jack was lying and took hold of the scruff of -Jack's neck. Jack winked at me in his good-natured way, and made a show -of pulling back some, but finally let Squint pitch him into the deepest -part of the swimming-hole. His head went clear under--which is a thing -no dog likes, let alone being picked up that way and tossed about. Every -boy there set up a shout, and when Jack scrambled up the bank, wagging -his tail and shaking the water off himself, the humans all yelled, -"Sling him in again, Squint!" - -Jack trotted over to where he had a bone planted at the foot of a walnut -tree, and began to dig for it. Squint followed, intending to sling him -in again. I wondered if old Jack would stand for any more of it. Jack -didn't; but before he got that fool boy to give up his idea he had to -pretend like he was actually trying to bite him. He threw a good scare -into the whole bunch of them, and then made out like he'd seen a rabbit -off through the trees, and took after it. Mutt Mulligan and I went with -him, and all the boys followed, naked, and whooping like Indians, except -two that stayed behind to tie knots in shirts. When we three dogs had -given the whole bunch of them the slip, we lay down in the grass and -talked. - -"Some day," says Jack to me, "I'm afraid I'm really going to have to -bite that Squint boy, Spot." - -"Don't do it," says I, "he's just a fool boy, and he doesn't really mean -anything by it." - -"The thing to do," says Mutt Mulligan, "is to fire him--just turn him -loose without a dog to his name, and pick up another boy somewhere." - -"But I don't like to give Squint up," says Jack, very thoughtful. "I -think it's my duty to stick to him, even if I have to bite him once or -twice to keep him in his place." - -"You see," Jack went on, "I'm really _fond_ of Squint. I've had him -three years now, and I'm making a regular boy of him. He was a kind of -a sissy when I took charge of him. His folks made him wear long yaller -curls, and they kept him in shoes and stockings even in the summer-time, -and they dressed him up in little blouses, and, say, fellows, you'd -never guess what they called him!" - -"What?" says I. - -"Percival," says Jack. "And they wouldn't let him fight. Well, I've seen -him turn into a real boy, a bit it a time, and I think it's up to me -to stick to the job and help with his education. He chews tobacco now," -says Jack very proudly, "and he can smoke a corncob pipe without getting -sick; and I'll tell you what, Spot, he can lick that Freckles boy of -yours to a frazzle." - -"Huh!" says I, "there's no boy of his age in town that dast to knock a -chip off that Freckles boy's shoulder." - -"Yes, sir," says Jack, ignoring my remark, "that Squint has turned into -some kid, believe me! And the first time I saw him he was a sight. It -was about dusk, one summer afternoon three years ago, and he was sitting -down in the grass by the side of the road six or seven miles from town, -crying and talking to himself. I sat down a little way off and listened. -He had run away from home, and I didn't blame him any, either. Besides -the curls and shoes and stockings I have mentioned, there were other -persecutions. He never went fishing, for instance, unless his father -took him. He didn't dast to play marbles for keeps. They wouldn't let -him have a Flobert rifle, nor even a nigger shooter. There were certain -kids he wasn't allowed to play with--they were too common and dirty -for him, his folks said. So he had run off to go with a circus. He had -hacked off his Fauntleroy curls before he started only he hadn't got -'em very even; but he had forgot to inquire which way to go to find a -circus. He'd walked and walked, and the nearest thing to a circus he had -found was a gipsy outfit, and he had got scared of an old man with brass -rings in his ears, and run, and run, and run. He'd slung his shoes and -stockings away when he started because he hated 'em so, and now he had a -stone bruise, and he was lost besides. And it was getting dark. - -"Well, I felt sorry for that boy. I sat there and watched him, and the -idea came to me that it would be a Christian act to adopt him. He wasn't -a sissy at heart--he had good stuff in him, or he wouldn't have run -away. Besides, I wanted a change; I'd been working for a farmer, and I -was pretty sick of that." - -"It's no life for a dog with any sporting instinct," I said, "farm life -isn't. I've tried it. They keep you so infernally busy with their cows -and sheep and things; and I knew one farm dog that had to churn twice a -week. They stuck him in a treadmill and made him." - -"A farm's no worse than living in a city," said Mutt Mulligan. "A city -dog ain't a real dog; he's either an outcast under suspicion of the -police, or a mama's pet with ribbons tied around his neck." - -"You can't tell me," says Jack. "I know. A country town with plenty of -boys in it, and a creek or river near by, is the only place for a dog. -Well, as I was saying, I felt sorry for Percival, and we made friends. -Pretty soon a man that knew him came by in a buggy, going to town. He -was a doctor, and he stopped and asked Percival if he wasn't pretty far -from home. Percival told him he'd left home for good and for all; but -he sniffled when he said it, and the doctor put him into his buggy and -drove him to town. I drilled along behind. It had been dark quite a -while when we got home, and Percival's folks were scared half to death. -His mother had some extra hysterics when she saw his hair. - -"'Where on earth did you get that ornery-looking yellow mongrel?' says -Percival's father when he caught sight of me. - -"'That's my dog,' says Percival. 'I'm going to keep him.' - -"'I won't have him around,' says his mother. - -"But Percival spunked up and said he'd keep me, and he'd get his hair -shingled tight to his head, or else the next time he ran away he'd make -a go of it. He got a licking for that remark, but they were so glad to -get him back they let him keep me. And from that time on Percival began -to get some independence about him. He ain't Percival now; he's Squint." - -It's true that a dog can help a lot in a boy's education. And I'm proud -of what I've done for Freckles. I will always remember 'one awful time I -had with him, though. I didn't think he'd ever pull through it. All of a -sudden he got melancholy--out of sorts and dreamy. I couldn't figure -out what was the matter with him at first. But I watched him close, and -finally I found out he was in love. He was feeling the disgrace of being -in love pretty hard, too; but he was trying not to show it. The worst -part of it was, he was in love with his school-teacher. She was a Miss -Jones, and an old woman--twenty-two or twenty-three years old, she was. - -Squint and Freckles had a fight over it when Squint found out. Squint -came over to our place one night after supper and whistled Freckles out. -He? says: - -"Say, Freckles, I seen you put an apple on Miss Jones's desk this -morning." - -"You're a liar," says Freckles, "and you dastn't back it." - -"I dast," says Squint. - -"Dastn't," says Freckles. - -"Dast," says Squint. - -"Back it then," says Freckles. - -"Well, then, you're another," says Squint. Which backed it. - -Then Freckles, he put a piece of wood on to his shoulder, and said: - -"You don't dast to knock that chip off." - -"I dast," says Squint. - -"You dastn't," says Freckles. - -Squint made a little push at it. Freckles dodged, and it fell off. -"There," says Squint, "I knocked it off." - -"You didn't; it fell off." - -"Did." - -"Didn't neither." - -"Did teether. Just put it on again, and see if I don't dast to knock it -off." - -"I don't have to put it on again, and you ain't big enough to make me do -it," says Freckles. - -"I can too make you." - -"Can't." - -"Huh, you can't run any sandy over me!" - -"I'll show you whether I can or not!" - -"Come on, then, over back of the Baptist Church, and show me." - -"No, I won't fight in a graveyard." - -"Yah! Yah! Yah!--'fraid of a graveyard at night! Fraid-cat! Fraid-cat! -Fraid-cat!" - -There isn't any kid will stand for that, so they went over to the -graveyard back of the Baptist Church. It was getting pretty dark, too. -I followed them, and sat down on a grave beside a tombstone to watch the -fight. I guess they were pretty much scared of that graveyard, both -of those boys; but us dogs had dug around there too much, making holes -after gophers, and moles, and snakes for me to mind it any. They hadn't -hit each other more than half a dozen times, those boys, when a flea got -hold of me right in the middle of my back, up toward my neck--the place -I never can reach, no matter how hard I dig and squirm. It wasn't one of -my own fleas, by the way it bit; it must have been a tramp flea that -had been starved for weeks. It had maybe come out there with a funeral a -long time before and got lost off of someone, and gone without food ever -since; and while I was rolling around and twisting, and trying to get at -it, I bumped against that tombstone with my whole weight. It was an old -slab, and loose, and it fell right over in the grass with a thud. The -boys didn't know I was there, and when the tombstone fell and I jumped, -they thought ghosts were after them, though I never heard of a ghost -biting anybody yet. It was all I could do to keep up with those boys for -the next five minutes, and I can run down a rabbit. When they stopped, -they were half a mile away, on the schoolhouse steps, hanging on to each -other for comfort. But, after a while they got over their scare, and -Squint said: - -"There ain't any use in you denying that apple, Freckles; two others, -besides me, not counting a girl, saw you put it there." - -"Well," said Freckles, "it's nobody's business." - -"But what I can't make out," says Squint, "is what became of the red -pepper. We knew you wasn't the kind of a softy that would bring apples -to teacher unless they was loaded with cayenne pepper, or something like -that. So we waited around after school to see what would happen when she -bit into it. But she just set at her desk and eat it all up, and slung -the core in the stove, and nothing happened." - -"That's funny," says Freckles. And he didn't say anything more. - -"Freckles," says Squint, "I don't believe you put any red pepper into -that apple." - -"I did," says Freckles. "You're a liar!" - -"Well," says Squint, "what become of it, then?" - -"That's none of your business, what become of it," says Freckles. -"What's it to you what become of it? How do I know what become of it?" - -"Freckles," says Squint, "I believe you're stuck on teacher." - -"You're a liar!" yells Freckles. And this time he was so mad he hit -Squint without further words. They had a beauty of a fight, but finally -Freckles got Squint down on the gravel path, and bumped his head up and -down in the gravel. - -"Now," says he, "did you see any apple?" - -"No," says Squint, "I didn't see any apple." - -"If you had seen one, would there have been pepper in it?" - -"There would have been--le'me up, Freckles." - -"Am I stuck on teacher?" - -"You ain't stuck on anybody--ouch, Freckles, le'me up!" - -Freckles let him up, and then started back toward home, walking on -different sides of the street. About half-way home Freckles crossed the -street, and said: "Squint, if I tell you something, you won't tell?" - -"1 ain't any snitch, Freckles, and you know it." - -"You won't even tell the rest of the Dalton Gang?" - -"Nope." - -"Cross your heart and hope to die?" - -"Sure." - -"Well, set down on the grass here, and I'll tell you." They set down, -and Freckles says: - -"Honest, Squint, it's true--I did take her that apple this morning, and -I'm stuck on her, and there wasn't any pepper in it." - -"Gee, Freckles!" says Squint. - -Freckles only drew in a deep breath. - -"I'm awful sorry for you, Freckles," says Squint, "honest, I am." - -"You always been a good pal, Squint," says Freckles. "Ain't there -anything can be done about it?" - -"Nope," says Freckles. - -"The Dalton Gang could make things so hot for her she'd have to give -up school," says Squint, very hopeful. "If you didn't see her any more, -you'd maybe get over it, Freckles." - -"No, Squint, I don't want her run out." - -"Don't _want_ her run out! Say, Freckles, you don't mean to say you -_like_ being in love with her?" - -"Well," says Freckles, "if I did like it, that would be a good deal of -disgrace, wouldn't it?" - -"Gosh darn her!" says Squint. - -"Well, Squint," says Freckles, "if you call me a softy, I'll lick you -again; but honest, I do kind of like it." And after that disgrace there -wasn't anything more either of them could say. And that disgrace ate -into him more and more; it changed him something awful. It took away -all his spirit by degrees. He got to be a different boy--sort of mooned -around and looked foolish. And he'd blush and giggle if any one said -"Hello" to him. I noticed the first bad sign one Saturday when his -father told him he couldn't go swimming until after he had gone over the -whole patch and picked the bugs off of all the potatoes. He didn't kick -nor play sick; he didn't run away; he stayed at home and bugged those -potatoes; he bugged them very hard and savage; he didn't do two rows, -as usual, and then sneak off through the orchard with me--_no, sir, he -hugged 'em all!_ I lay down at the edge of the patch and watched him, -and thought of old times, and the other dogs and boys down at the creek, -or maybe drowning out gophers, or getting chased by Cy Smith's bull, or -fighting out a bumblebee's nest and putting mud on the stung places, and -it all made me fell mighty sad and downcast. Next day was Sunday, and -they told him he'd get a licking if he chased off after Sunday-school -and played baseball out to the fair-grounds--and he didn't; he came -straight home, without even stopping back of the livery-stable to watch -the men pitch horseshoes. And next day was Monday, and he washed his -neck without being told, and he was on time at school, and he got his -grammar lesson. And worse than that before the day was over, for at -recess-time the members of the Dalton Gang smoked a Pittsburgh stogie, -turn and turn about, out behind the coal-house. Freckles rightly owned -a fifth interest in that stogie, but he gave his turns away without -a single puff. Some of us dogs always hung around the school-yard at -recess-times, and I saw that myself, and it made me feel right bad; it -wasn't natural. And that night he went straight home from school, and he -milked the cow and split the kindling wood without making a kick, and he -washed his feet before he went to bed without being made to. - -"No, sir, it wasn't natural. And he felt his disgrace worse and worse, -and lost his interest in life more and more as the days went by. One -afternoon when I couldn't get him interested in pretending I was going -to chew up old Bill Patterson, I knew there wasn't anything would take -him out of himself. Bill was the town drunkard, and all of us dogs used -to run and bark at him when there were any humans looking on. I never -knew how we got started at it, but it was the fashion. We didn't have -anything against old Bill either, but we let on like we thought he was -a tough character; that is, if any one was looking at us. If we ever -met old Bill toward the edge of town, where no one could see us, we were -always friendly enough with him, too. Bill liked dogs, and used to be -always trying to pet us, and knew just the places where a dog liked to -be scratched, but there wasn't a dog in town would be seen making up to -him. We'd let him think maybe we were going to be friendly, and smell -and sniff around him in an encouraging sort of a way, like we thought -maybe he was an acquaintance of ours, and then old Bill would get real -proud and try to pat our heads, and say: 'The _dogs_ all know old Bill, -all right--yes, sir! _They_ know who's got a good heart and who ain't. -May be an outcast, but the _dogs_ know--yes, sir!" And when he said that -we'd growl and back off, and circle around him, and bristle our backs -up, and act like we'd finally found the man that robbed our family's -chicken-house last week, and run in and snap at Bill's legs. Then all -the boys and other humans around would laugh. I reckon it was kind of -mean and hypocritical in us dogs, too; but you've got to keep the humans -jollied up, and the coarsest kind of jokes is the only kind they seem to -appreciate. But even when I put old Bill through his paces, that -Freckles boy didn't cheer up any. - -The worst of it was that Miss Jones had made up her mind to marry the -Baptist minister, and it was only a question of time before she'd get -him. Every dog and human in our town knew that. Folks used to talk it -over at every meal, or out on the front porches in the evenings, and -wonder how much longer he would hold out. And Freckles used to listen to -them talking, and then sneak off alone and sit down with his chin in his -hands and study it all out. The Dalton Gang--Squint had told the rest of -them, each promising not to tell--was right sympathetic at first. They -offered to burn the preacher's house down if that would do any good. -But Freckles said no, leave the preacher alone. It wasn't _his_ -fault--everyone knew _he_ wouldn't marry Miss Jones if she let him -alone. Then the Daltons said they'd kidnap the teacher if he said -the word. But Freckles said no, that would cause a lot of talk; and, -besides, a grown woman eats an awful lot; and what would they feed her -on? Finally Tom Mulligan--he was Mutt Mulligan's boy--says: - -"What you got to do, Freckles, is make some kind of a noble sacrifice. -That's the way they always do in these here Lakeside Library books. -Something that will touch her heart." - -And they all agree her heart has got to be touched. But how? - -"Maybe," says Squint, "it would touch her heart if the Dalton Gang was -to march in in a body and offer to reform." - -But Tom Mulligan says he wouldn't go _that_ far for any one. And after -about a week the Dalton Gang lost its sympathy and commenced to guy -Freckles and poke fun at him. And then there were fights--two or three -every day. But gradually it got so that Freckles didn't seem to take any -comfort or joy in a fight, and he lost spirits more and more. And pretty -soon he began to get easy to lick. He got so awful easy to lick the -Daltons got tired of licking him, and quit fighting him entirely. And -then the worst happened. One day they served him notice that until he -got his nerve back and fell out of love with Miss Jones again, he would -not be considered a member of the Dalton Gang. But even that didn't jar -him any--Freckles was plumb ruined. - -One day I heard the humans talking it over that the preacher had give -in at last. Miss Jones's pa, and her uncle too, were both big church -members, and he never really had a chance from the first. It was in the -paper, the humans said, that they were engaged, and were to be married -when school was out. Freckles, he poked away from the porch where the -family was sitting when he heard that, and went to the barn and lay down -on a pile of hay. I sat outside the barn, and I could hear him in there -choking back what he was feeling. It made me feel right sore, too, and -when the moon came up I couldn't keep from howling at it; for here was -one of the finest kids you ever saw in there bellering like a girl, and -all because of a no-account woman--a grown-up woman, mind you! I went in -and lay down on the hay beside him, and licked his face, and nuzzled my -head up under his armpit, to show him I'd stand by him anyhow. Pretty -soon he went to sleep there, and after a long while his father came out -and picked him up and carried him into the house to bed. He never waked -up. - -The next day I happened by the schoolhouse along about recess-time. -The boys were playing prisoner's base, and I'm pretty good at that game -myself, so I joined in. When the bell rang, I slipped into Freckles's -room behind the scholars, thinking I'd like a look at that Miss Jones -myself. Well, she wasn't anything Yd go crazy over. When she saw me, -there was the deuce to pay. - -"Whose dog is that?" she sings out. - -"Please, ma'am," squeals a little girl, "that is Harold Watson's dog, -Spot." - -"Harold Watson," says she to Freckles, "don't you know it's strictly -against the rules to bring dogs to school?" - -"Yes'm," says Freckles, getting red in the face. - -"Then why did you do it?" - -"I didn't, ma'am," says he. "He's just come visitin' like." - -"Harold," says she, "don't be impudent. Step forward." - -He stepped toward her desk, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He -jerked away from her, and she grabbed him by the collar. No dog likes to -see a grown-up use his boy rough, so I moved a little nearer and growled -at her. - -"Answer me," she says, "why did you allow this beast to come into the -schoolroom?" - -"Spot ain't a beast," says Freckles. "He's my dog." She stepped to the -stove and picked up a poker, and come toward me. I dodged, and ran to -the other side of her desk, and all the scholars laughed. That made her -mad, and she made a swipe at me with that poker, and she was so sudden -that she caught me right in the ribs, and I let out a yelp and ran over -behind Freckles. - -"You can't hit my dog like that!" yelled Freckles, mad as a hornet. "No -teacher that ever lived could lick my dog!" And he burst out crying, and -ran out of the room, with me after him. - -"I'm done with you," he sings out from the hall. "Marry your old -preacher if you want to." - -And then we went out into the middle of the road, and he slung stones -at the schoolhouse, and yelled names, till the principal came out and -chased us away. - -But I was glad, because I saw he was cured. A boy that is anything -will stick up for his dog, and a dog will stick up for his boy. We went -swimming, and then we went back as near the schoolhouse as we dast to. -When school let out, Freckles licked the whole Dalton Gang, one at a -time, and made each say, before he let him up: "Freckles Watson was -never stuck on anybody; and if he was, he is cured." - -They all said it, and then held a meeting; and he was elected president. - -And me!--I felt so good I went down-town and picked a fuss with a -butcher's dog that wore a spiked collar. I had always felt a little -scared of that dog before, but that night I just naturally chewed him to -a frazzle. - - - - -BILL PATTERSON - -This town," says Squint, quiet, but determined, "has got to be made an -example of. It has got to learn that it can't laugh at the Dalton Gang -and go unscathed. Freckled Watson of Dead Man's Gulch," says he to me, -"speak up! What form shall the punishment take?" - -"Blood," says I. - -"Two-Gun Tom of Texas," says he to Tom Mulligan, "speak!" - -"Death!" says Tom. - -"Arizona Pete, speak!" - -"Blood and Death," says Pete Wilson, making his voice deep. - -"Broncho Bob?" - -"Blood, death, and fire!" says Bob Jones. - -There was a solemn pause for a minute, and then I says, according to -rule and regulation: - -"And what says Dead-Shot Squint, the Terror of the Plains?" - -He was very serious while one might have counted ten breaths, and then -he pulled his jack-knife from his pocket and whet it on the palm of his -hand, and tried its point on his thumb, and replied: - -"He says death, and seals it with a vow!" - -That vow was a mighty solemn thing, and we always felt it so. It wasn't -the kind of a thing you would ever let small kids or girls know about. -First you all sat down in a circle, with your feet together, and rolled -up the sleeve of your left arm. Then the knife was passed around, and -each drew blood out of his left arm. Then each one got as much blood out -of the next fellow's arm as he could, in his mouth, and all swallowed -simultaneous, to show you were going into the thing to the death and no -turning back. Next we signed our names in a ring, using blood mixed with -gunpowder. But not on paper, mind you. We signed 'em on parchment. -First and last, that parchment was a good deal of trouble. If you think -skinning a squirrel or a rat to get his hide for parchment is an easy -trick, just try it. Let alone catching them being no snap. But Squint, -he was Captain, and he was stern on parchment, for it makes an oath more -legal, and all the old-time outlaws wouldn't look at anything else. But -we got a pretty good supply ahead by saving all the dead cats and things -like that we could find, and unless you know likely places to look it -would surprise you how many dead cats there are in the world. - -We were in the Horse Thieves' Cave, about a mile from town. It had -really been used for that, way back before the war. There was a gang -pretended to be honest settlers like everybody else. But they used to -steal horses and hide them out in there. When they had a dozen or so -of them they'd take 'em over to the Mississippi River, which was about -thirty miles west, some night, and raft 'em down stream and sell 'em at -Cairo or St. Louis. That went on for years, but along in the fifties, -my grandfather said, when _he_ was a kid, a couple was hung, and the -remainder got across the river and went west. The cave was up on -the side of a hill in the woods, and forgotten about except by a few -old-timers. The door-beams had rotted and fallen down, and the sand and -dirt had slid down over the mouth of it, and vines and bushes grown up. -No one would have guessed there was any cave there at all. But the -dogs got to digging around there one afternoon when the Dalton Gang was -meeting in the woods, and uncovered part of those door beams. We dug -some more and opened her up. It took a lot of work to clean her out, but -she was as good as new when we got done with her. We never told any one, -and the vines and bushes were so thick you could hunt a year and never -find the opening. It isn't every bunch of kids get a real Horse Thieves' -Cave ready-made like that, right from the hands of Providence, as you -might say. Pete Wilson used to brag and say his grand-dad was one of -those horse-thieves. It made the rest of us feel kind of meek for a -time, because none of us could claim any honour or grandeur like that in -our families. But my grand-dad, who has a terrible long memory about -the early days, said it wasn't so; so far as he could recollect Pete's -grand-dad never had any ambition above shoats and chickens. - -Well, I was telling you about that oath. We were taking it because -Squint's father, who was mayor, had run on to one of those parchments -(which Squint ought never to have taken away from the cave), and had -asked a lot of fool questions about it. Then he threw back his head and -laughed at the Dalton Gang. It made our blood boil. Hence, our plans for -revenge. - -"The time has come," said Squint, "for a bold stroke. Yonder proud city -laughs. But he laughs best who laughs last. And ere another sun has -set----" - -"The last time we took the blood oath," interrupts Bob Jones, "we didn't -do anything more important than steal the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable." - -"There must be no failure," says Squint, not heeding him, and he jabbed -the knife into the ground and gritted his teeth. You could see how the -memory of being laughed at was rankling through his veins. - -"But, Squint," says Tom Mulligan, looking quite a bit worried, "you -don't _really_ mean to kill any one, do you?" - -Squint only says, very haughty: "The blood oath has been sworn. Is there -a traitor here?" He was always a great one for holding us to it, Squint -was, unless what he called an Honourable Compromise came into sight. -And we all got mighty uncomfortable and gloomy trying to think of some -Honourable Compromise. It was to me that the great idea came, all of a -sudden. - -"Squint," I says, "the thing to do is to kidnap some prominent citizen -and hold him for ransom." - -Squint brightened up and said to wring gold from the coffers of yonder -proud city would be even more satisfaction than blood. The next question -was: Who will we kidnap? - -"I suggest the mayor of yonder town!" says Squint. - -"Gee--your dad, Squint?" says Tom Mulligan. - -"I offer him as a sacrifice," says Squint, very majestically. No one -could do any more, and we all felt Squint's dad had deserved it. But the -idea was so big it kind of scared us, too. But while the rest of us were -admiring Squint, Bob Jones got jealous and offered _his_ father. Then we -all offered our fathers, except Tom Mulligan, who didn't have anything -better to offer than a pair of spinster aunts. There was a general row -over whose father was the most prominent citizen. But finally we decided -to bar all relatives and kinsfolk, in order to prevent jealousy, even to -the distant cousins. But it isn't a very big town, and it would surprise -you how many people are related to each other there. Finally Bill -Patterson was voted to be the Honourable Compromise, being known as the -town drunkard, and not related to anybody who would own up to it. - -It figured out easy enough. All we had to do was to wait until Sunday -night, and take Bill out of the lockup. Every Saturday afternoon regular -Si Emery, who was the city marshal, arrested Bill for being drunk on -Main Street, and Bill was kept in jail until Monday morning. Si was -getting pretty old and feeble and shaky, and of late years the town -council never let him have the lock-up key until just an hour or so -before it was time to arrest Bill on Saturdays. Because one time Si -had forgot to feed and water a tramp in there for about a week, and the -tramp took sick after a while, and he was dead when Si remembered about -him, and had to be buried at the town's expense. And several times some -tough customers had taken the keys away from Si and broken into the -place and played cards and cut up in there scandalous for half the -night. So it was thought best Si shouldn't carry the keys, nor the -handcuffs which belonged to the town. After he had locked Bill up on -Saturday evenings Si would take the keys to the mayor's house, and get -them again on Monday morning to let Bill out. - -So the next Sunday night when the hired girl wasn't looking, Squint -sneaked the keys and the town handcuffs out of the drawer in the kitchen -table where the knives and forks were kept. He slipped upstairs to bed, -and no one noticed. About ten o'clock he dressed again, and got out the -back window, and down the lightning rod; and at the same hour us other -Daltons were doing much the same. - -We met behind the lockup, and put on the masks we had made. They had -hair on the bottoms of them to look like beards sticking out. - -"Who's got the dark-lantern?" Squint asks, in a whisper. - -"M-m-me," answered Pete Wilson, stuttering. I was so excited myself I -was biting my coat-sleeve so my teeth wouldn't chatter. And Bob Jones -was clicking the trigger of the cavalry pistol his uncle carried in the -war, and couldn't stop, like a girl can't stop laughing when she gets -hysterics. The cylinder was gone and it couldn't be loaded or he would -have killed himself, for he turned it up and looked right into the -muzzle and kept clicking when Squint asked him what the matter was. Pete -shook so he couldn't light the lantern; but Squint, he was that calm -and cool he lit her with the third match. He unlocked the door and in we -went. - -Bill was snoring like all get out, and talking in his sleep. That made -us feel braver again. Squint says to handcuff him easy and gentle before -he wakes. Well, there wasn't any trouble in that; the trouble was to -wake him up afterward. He was so interested in whatever he was dreaming -about that the only way we could do it was to tickle his nose with a -straw and wait until he sneezed himself awake. Squint clapped the muzzle -of the pistol to his forehead, while I flashed the lantern in his eyes -and the other three sat on his stomach and grabbed his legs. Squint -says: - -"William Patterson, one move and you are a dead man!" - -But Bill didn't try to move any; he only said: "Can't an honest -working-man take a little nap? You go 'way and leave me be!" - -"William Patterson," says Squint, "you are kidnapped!" - -"Yer a liar," says Bill. "I ain't. Ye can't prove it on to me. I'm just -takin' a little nap." - -Then he rouses up a little more and looks at us puzzled, and begins to -mumble and talk to himself: - -"Here I be," he says, "and here they be! I can see 'em, all right; but -they can't fool me! They ain't really nothing here. I seen too many of -them tremenses come and go to be fooled that easy." - -"Arise, William Patterson, and come with us," says Squint. - -"Now, you don't want to get too sassy," says Bill, "or you'll turn into -something else the first thing _you_ know. You tremenses always does -turn into something else." We had to kick him on the shins to make him -get up. When we did that he says to himself: "Shucks, now! A body'd -think he was bein' kicked if he didn't know different, wouldn't he?" - -He came along peaceable enough, but muttering to himself all the way: -"Monkeys and crocodiles and these here striped jackasses with wings on -to 'em I've saw many a time, and argified with 'em, too; and talked with -elephants no bigger'n a man's fist; and oncet I chased a freight train -round and round that calaboose and had it give me sass; but this is the -first time a passel o' little old men ever come and trotted me down the -pike." - -And he kept talking like that all the way to the cave. It was midnight -before we took off his handcuffs and shoved him in. When we gave him -that shove, he did get sort of spiteful and he says: - -"You tremenses think you're mighty smart, but if I was to come out -of this sudden, where would _you_ be? Blowed up, that's where--like -bubbles!" - -We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and -by the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when -we lit out for town again. - -On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank, -we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and -spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. -They read as follows: - -_Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis -Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef -in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!_ - ---_the kidNappers._ - -Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. -I had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had -some canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the -others were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get -hold of easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave -door Bill was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him: - -"Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with -all the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not -ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need -have no fear." - -"I ain't afeared," says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly -believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a -hollow stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom -of it through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our -fireplace. If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only -think some farmer was burning out stumps. - -Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or -suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat -back and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning: - -"I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is." - -"It's Illinois," says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it. - -"So it is," says he. "So it is!" After he had smoked awhile longer he -said: "What county in Illinois would you say it was, for choice?" - -"Bureau county," I told him. I saw then he hadn't known where he was. - -"It ain't possible, is it," he says, "that I ever seen any of you boys -on the streets of a little city by the name of Hazelton?" - -I told him yes. - -"I s'pose they got the same old city marshal there?" says he. I guess he -thought maybe he'd been gone for years and years, like Rip Van Winkle. -He was having a hard time to get things straightened out in his mind. He -stared and stared into the bowl of his pipe, looking at me now and then -out of the corners of his eyes as if he wondered whether he could trust -me or not; finally he leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear, -awfully anxious: "Who would you say I was, for choice, now?" - -"Bill Patterson," I told him, and he brightened up considerable and -chuckled to himself; and then he said, feeling of himself all over and -tying on his rope again: - -"Bill Patterson is correct! Been wanderin' around through these here -woods for weeks an' weeks, livin' on roots an' yarbs like a wild man of -Borneo." Then he asks me very confidential: "How long now, if you was to -make a guess, would you judge Bill had been livin' in this here cave?" - -But Squint cut in and told him point blank he was kidnapped. It took -a long time to get that into Bill's head, but finally he asked: "What -for?" - -"For ransom," says I. - -"And revenge," says Squint. - -Bill looked dazed for a minute, and then said if it was all the same to -us he'd like to have a talk with a lawyer. But Bob Jones broke in and -told him "Unless five hundred dollars is paid over to the gang, you will -never see Hazelton again." He looked frightened at that and began to -pick at his coat-sleeves, and said he guessed if we didn't mind he'd go -and take a little nap now. You never saw such a captive for sleeping up -his spare time; he was just naturally cut out to be a prisoner. But -we felt kind of sorry and ashamed we had scared him; it was so easy to -scare him, and we agreed we'd speak gentle and easy to him after that. - -At dinner time we waked Bill up and gave him another meal. And he was -ready for it; the sight of victuals seemed to take any fright he might -have had out of his mind. You never saw such an appetite in all your -born days; he ate like he had years of lost time to make up for; and -maybe he had. He was having such a good time he began to have his doubts -whether it would last, for he said, in a worried kind of way, after -dinner: "This here thing of being kidnapped, now, ain't a thing you boys -is going to try and charge for, is it? 'Cause if it is them there sharp -tricks can't be worked on to me; and if you was to sue me for it you sue -a pauper." - -After dinner Squint and I went to town on a scouting party. We hung -around the streets and listened to the talk that was going on just like -a couple of spies would that had entered the enemy's camp in war time. -Everybody was wondering what had become of Bill, and gassing about the -notices; and it made us feel mighty proud to think that fame had come -to ones so young as us, even although it came in disguise so that no one -but us knew it. But in the midst of that feeling we heard Hy Williams, -the city drayman, saying to a crowd of fellows who were in front of the -post office waiting for the mail to be distributed: - -"The beatingest part of the whole thing is that any one would be fools -enough to think that this town or any other town would pay ransom to get -back a worthless cuss like Bill Patterson!" - -It had never struck us like that before. Instead of being famous like -we had thought, here we were actually being laughed at again! Squint, he -gritted his teeth, and I knew all the rankling that he had done inside -of him was as nothing to the rankling that he was doing now. So that -night we put up some more notices around town, which read as follows: - -_n. B.--take notus! we didunt reely Expect money for Old Bill Patterson, -we onely done that to show this town Is in Our Power. Take warning and -pay Up the next will be a rich one or his child._ - ---_kidnappers._ - -That really made folks pretty serious, that notice. There was a piece -in a Chicago paper about the things that had happened in our town. The -piece told a lot of things that never had happened, but when the papers -came down from Chicago and they all read it the whole town began to -get worse and worse excited. And about that time we began to get scared -ourselves. For there was talk of sending off to Chicago and getting a -detective. People were frightened about their kids, too. It kept getting -harder and harder for us to get out to the cave to guard Bill. Not that -he needed much guarding, either; for he was having the time of his life -out there, eating and sleeping and not working at anything else. It had -been years since he had struck any kind of work that suited him as well -as being kidnapped did; if we hadn't been so worried it would have been -a pleasure to us to see how happy and contented we were making him; he -acted like he had found the real job in life that he had always been -looking for, and the only thing that bothered him at all was when he -recollected about that ransom and got afraid the town would pay it -and end his snap. But mostly he didn't bother about anything; for his -recollection was only by fits and starts; yesterday was just as far off -to him as a year ago. The second day he was there he did get a little -grouchy because he had been without anything to drink for so long. -But that night someone broke into the saloon and stole a lot of quart -bottles of whiskey; about a bushel of them, it was said. We didn't -suspect it was Bill, right at first, for he was foxy enough to keep -it hid from us; and when we did know we didn't dare say anything! That -whiskey was the one thing Bill had lacked to make him completely happy. -But the theft worked in a way that increased our troubles. For it showed -people that the mysterious gang was still hanging around waiting to -strike a desperate stroke. And the very next night a store was broken -into and some stuff stolen. It wasn't Bill, but I suppose some tramp -that was hanging around; but it helped to stir things up worse and -worse. So we decided that we had better turn Bill loose. We held a -meeting out by the cave, and then Squint told him: - -"Prisoner, you are at liberty!" - -"What d'ye mean by that?" says Bill. "You ain't goin' back on me, are -ye?" - -"Yonder town has been punished enough," says Squint. "Go free--we strike -your shackles off!" - -"But see here," says Bill, "wasn't I kidnapped reg'lar? Ain't I been a -model prisoner?" - -"But we're through with you, Bill," we told him. "Don't you understand?" - -Bill allowed it was a mean trick we were playing on him; he said he -had thought we were his friends, and that he'd done his best to give -satisfaction in the place, and here we were, firing him, as you might -say, without any warning, or giving him any chance to get another job -like it, or even telling him where he had failed to make good, and then -he snuffled like he was going to cry, and said: "That's a great way to -treat an honest workin'-man, that is! An' they call this a free country, -too!" - -But Squint, while expressing sorrow that we should have raised any false -hopes, was firm with him, too. "You take the rest of that whiskey and -chase along, now, Bill," he said, "you aren't kidnapped any more." - -But Bill flared up at that. "I ain't, ain't I?" he said. "Yer a liar! -I was kidnapped fair and square; kidnapped I be, and kidnapped I stay! -I'll show you blamed little cheats whether I'm kidnapped or not, I -will!" - -He took a chew of tobacco and sat down on a log, and studied us, looking -us over real sullen and spiteful. "Now, then," he says, finally, "if -you young smart alecs think you can treat a free man that-a-way yer dern -fools. I got the law on to my side, I have. Do you think I don't know -that? Mebby you boys don't know ye could go to jail for kidnappin' an -honest work-in'-man? Well, ye could, if it was found out on ye. It's a -crime, that's what it is, and ye could go to jail for it. You treat Old -Bill fair and square and keep friends with him, and he won't tell on -you; but the minute I hear any more talk about bein' set at liberty I'll -tell on ye, and to jail you goes. I'm mighty comfortable where I be, and -I ain't goin' to be turned out." - -We all looked at each other, and then we looked away again, and our -hearts sank. For each one read in his neighbour's eyes (as Squint said -later) what his doom might well be. - -"Kidnapped I be," says Bill again, very rough and decided, "and -kidnapped I stay. And what's more, I want chicken for supper to-night. I -ain't had no chicken for quite a spell. You can wake me up when supper's -ready." And he went into the cave and lay down for a nap. - -We were in his power, and he knew it! - -We had to steal that chicken, and it went against the grain to do it. -It was the first time in its career of crime the Dalton Gang had ever -actually stolen anything. Except, of course, watermelons and such truck, -which isn't really stealing. And except the ice cream from the Methodist -lawn sociable, which was for revenge and as a punishment on the Sunday -School, and so not really stealing, either. - -Things got worse and worse. For Bill, he kept us on the jump. He got -to wanting more and more different things to eat, and was more and more -particular about the cooking. He wouldn't lift a hand for himself, not -even to fill and light his own pipe. We waited on him hand and foot, all -day long. And first he would take a fancy for a mess of squirrels, and -then he would want pigeons; and we had to take turns fanning the flies -off of him when he wanted to take a nap. Once he told a story, and -we all laughed at it; and that gave him the idea he was a great story -teller; and he would tell foolish yarns by the hour and get sulky if -we didn't laugh. We got so we would do anything to keep him in a good -humour. We had a lot of Indian stories and Old Sleuths out to the cave, -and he made us take turns reading to him. That good-for-nothing loafer -turned into a regular king, and we were his slaves. - -Between sneaking out there to keep him happy and contented and rustling -up grub for him, and thinking all the time we would be arrested the -next minute, and wanting to confess and not daring to, we all got right -nervous. Then there was a man came to town who didn't tell what his -business was the first day he was there, and we were right sure he was a -detective. He passed right by the cave one day, and we hugged the ground -behind the bushes and didn't dare breathe. It turned out afterward he -was only looking at some land he was figuring on buying. But that night -I dreamed that that man arrested me; and I was being sent to jail when I -waked up screaming out something about kidnapping. I heard my Pa say to -my Ma, after they had got me quieted down: - -"Poor little fellow! He thought he was kidnapped! No wonder he is -afraid, the state this whole town is in. If those desperadoes are -caught, they'll go to the pen for a good long term: nothing on earth can -save 'em from a Bureau county jury." - -Then he went back into his room and went to sleep; but I didn't go to -sleep. What he had said didn't make me feel sleepy. I slipped out of bed -and prayed enough that night to make up for the times I had forgot it -lately; and the next day the rest of the Dalton Gang admitted they had -prayed some, too. - -But the worst of all was when Bill made friends with the tramp. Squint -and I went out to the cave one morning to get Bill's breakfast for him, -and as we got near we heard two sets of snores. Bill's snore you could -tell a long way off, he sort of gargled his snores and they ended up -with kind of a choke and an explosion. But the other snore was more of a -steady whistling sound. We ran across the fellow sudden, and it like to -have frightened us out of a year's growth. He was lying just inside the -cave with his hat pulled over his face, but he was snoring with one eye -open. It peered out from under the brim of his hat; it was half-hidden, -but it was open all right, and it was staring straight at us. It wasn't -human; no one with good intentions would lie there like that and snore -like he was asleep and watch folks at the same time on the sly. We -couldn't even run; we stood there with that regular see-saw snore coming -and going, and that awful eye burning into the centres of our souls, -as Squint says later, and thought our end had come. But he waked up and -opened the other eye, and then we saw the first one was glass and he -hadn't meant any harm by it. He was right sorry he'd scared us, he -said; but we'd have to get used to that eye, for _he_ allowed he was -kidnapped, too. It was two days before he quit being our captive and -left, and they are among the saddest days I ever spent. - -He left because Bill's whiskey was gone; and the afternoon he left, Bill -was helpless. When we saw Bill in that fix it gave us an idea how to -get rid of him. That night he was still weak and easy to handle. So we -slipped the handcuffs on him and took him back and locked him into the -calaboose again. Then we put signs and notices around town that read -this way: - -_Ha Ha Ha_ - -_Did you ever get left! this town joshed me for years but I have got -even--the joke is on to you--I wasn't kidnapped a tall--who is the -suckers now?_ - -_Bill Patterson._ - -And that town was so mad that when they found Bill in the jail again -there was talk of handling him pretty rough. But it all turned into -josh. Bill, when he woke up in the calaboose, thought he had just had -a dream at first, and denied he had ever been absent. Then when he saw -they all took him for a deep joker he began to act like he was a joker. -And before long he got to thinking he really had played that trick on -the town. When they used to ask him how on earth he got into and out of -the calaboose without the keys, he would wink very mysterious, and look -important, and nod and chuckle to himself and say that was the best part -of the joke and he intended to keep it to himself. - -But one day when he was almost sober he saw Squint and me on the -street and stared at us long and hard like he was trying to recollect -something, and scratched his head and said: "You boys didn't always used -to live in this town, did you?" - -"Uh-huh," says I. - -"That's funny," says Bill, "I could have swore you was boys I once -knowed a long ways off from here that time I was on my travels." - - - - -BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) - -I am a middle-sized dog, with spots on me here and there, and several -different colours of hair mixed in even where there aren't any spots, -and my ears are frazzled a little on the ends where they have been -chewed in fights. - -At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I -was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost -feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from -dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it. - -I can well remember the afternoon on which the discovery was made. A -lot of us dogs were lying in the grass, up by the swimming hole, just -lazying around, and the boys were doing the same. All the boys were -naked and comfortable, and no humans were about, the only thing near -being a cow or two and some horses, and although large they are scarcely -more human than boys. Everybody had got tired of swimming, and it was -too hot to drown out gophers or fight bumblebees, and the boys were -smoking grapevine cigarettes and talking. - -Us dogs was listening to the boys talk. A Stray Boy, which I mean one -not claimed or looked out for or owned by any dog, says to Freckles -Watson, who is my boy: - -"What breed would you call that dog of yours, Freck?" - -I pricked up my ears at that. I cannot say that I had ever set great -store by breeds up to the time that I found out I was an aristocrat -myself, believing, as Bill Patterson, a human and the town drunkard, -used to say when intoxicated, that often an honest heart beats beneath -the outcast's ragged coat. - -"Spot ain't any _one_ particular breed," says Freckles. "He's -considerably mixed." - -"He's a mongrel," says Squint Thompson, who is Jack Thompson's boy. - -"He ain't," says Freckles, so huffy that I saw a mongrel must be some -sort of a disgrace. "You're a link, link liar, and so's your Aunt -Mariar," says Freckles. - -I thought there might be a fight then, but it was too hot for any -enjoyment in a fight, I guess, for Squint let it pass, only saying, "I -ain't got any Aunt Mariar, and you're another." - -"A dog," chips in the Stray Boy, "has either got to be a thoroughbred or -a mongrel. He's either an aristocrat or else he's a common dog." - -"Spot ain't any common dog," says Freckles, sticking up for me. "He can -lick any dog in town within five pounds of his weight." - -"He's got some spaniel in him," says the Stray Boy. - -"His nose is pointed like a hound's nose," says Squint Thompson. - -"Well," says Freckles, "neither one of them kind of dogs is a common -dog." - -"Spot has got some bulldog blood in him, too," says Tom Mulligan, an -Irish boy owned by a dog by the name of Mutt Mulligan. "Did you ever -notice how Spot will hang on so you can't pry him loose, when he gets -into a fight?" - -"That proves he is an aristocratic kind of dog," says Freckles. - -"There's some bird dog blood in Spot," says the Stray Boy, sizing me up -careful. - -"He's got some collie in him, too," says Squint Thompson. "His voice -sounds just like a collie's when he barks." - -"But his tail is more like a coach dog's tail," says Tom Mulligan. - -"His hair ain't, though," says the Stray Boy. "Some of his hair is like -a setter's." - -"His teeth are like a mastiff's," says Mutt Mulligan's boy Tom. And -they went on like that; I never knew before there were so many different -kinds of thoroughbred dog. Finally Freckles says: - -"Yes, he's got all them different kinds of thoroughbred blood in him, -and he's got other kinds you ain't mentioned and that you ain't slick -enough to see. You may think you're running him down, but what you say -just _proves_ he ain't a common dog." - -I was glad to hear that. It was beginning to look to me that they had a -pretty good case for me being a mongrel. - -"How does it prove it?" asked the Stray Boy. - -"Well," says Freckles, "you know who the King of Spain is, don't you?" - -They said they'd heard of him from time to time. - -"Well," says Freckles, "if you were a relation of the King of Spain -you'd be a member of the Spanish royal family. You fellows may not know -that, but you would. You'd be a swell, a regular high-mucky-muck." - -They said they guessed they would. - -"Now, then," says Freckles, "if you were a relation to the King of -Switzerland, too, you'd be just _twice_ as swell, wouldn't you, as if -you were only related to one royal family? Plenty of people are related -to just _one_ royal family." - -Tom Mulligan butts in and says that way back, in the early days, his -folks was the Kings of Ireland; but no one pays any attention. - -"Suppose, then, you're a cousin of the Queen of England into the bargain -and your grand-dad was King of Scotland, and the Prince of Wales and -the Emperor of France and the Sultan of Russia and the rest of those -royalties were relations of yours, wouldn't all that royal blood make -you _twenty times_ as much of a high-mucky-muck as if you had just _one_ -measly little old king for a relation?" - -The boys had to admit that it would. - -"You wouldn't call a fellow with all that royal blood in him a -_mongrel_, would you?" says Freckles. "You bet your sweet life you -wouldn't! A fellow like that is darned near on the level with a -congressman or a vicepresident. Whenever he travels around in the old -country they turn out the brass band; and the firemen and the Knights of -Pythias and the Modern Woodmen parade, and the mayor makes a speech, and -there's a picnic and firecrackers, and he gets blamed near anything he -wants. People kow-tow to him, just like they do to a swell left-handed -pitcher or a champion prizefighter. If you went over to the old country -and called a fellow like that a mongrel, and it got out oh you, you -would be sent to jail for it." - -Tom Mulligan says yes, that is so; his grand-dad came to this country -through getting into some kind of trouble about the King of England, and -the King of England ain't anywhere near as swell as the fellow Freckles -described, nor near so royal, neither. - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "it's the same way with my dog, Spot, here. -_Any_ dog can be full of just _one_ kind of thoroughbred blood. That's -nothing! But Spot here has got more different kinds of thoroughbred -blood in him than any dog you ever saw. By your own say-so he has. He's -got _all_ kinds of thoroughbred blood in him. If there's any kind he -ain't got, you just name it, will you?" - -"He ain't got any Great Dane in him," yells the Stray Boy, hating to -knuckle under. - -"You're a liar, he has, too," says Freckles. - -The Stray Boy backed it, and there was a fight. All us dogs and boys -gathered around in a ring to watch it, and I was more anxious than -anybody else. For the way that fight went, it was easy to see, would -decide what I was. - -Well, Freckles licked that Stray Boy, and rubbed his nose in the mud, -and that's how I come to be an aristocrat. - -Being an aristocrat may sound easy. And it may look easy to outsiders. -And it may really be easy for them that are used to it. But it wasn't -easy for _me_. It came on me suddenly, the knowledge that I was one, and -without warning. I didn't have any time to practise up being one. One -minute I wasn't one, and the next minute I was; and while, of course, -I felt important over it, there were spells when I would get kind of -discouraged, too, and wish I could go back to being a common dog again. -I kept expecting my tastes and habits to change. I watched and waited -for them to. But they didn't. No change at all set in on me. But I had -to pretend I was changed. Then I would get tired of pretending, and be -down-hearted about the whole thing, and say to myself: "There has been a -mistake. I am _not_ an aristocrat after all." - -I might have gone along like that for a long time, partly in joy over my -noble birth, and partly in doubt, without ever being certain, if it had -not been for a happening which showed, as Freckles said, that blood will -tell. - -It happened the day Wilson's World's Greatest One Ring Circus and -Menagerie came to our town. Freckles and me, and all the other dogs and -boys, and a good many humans, too, followed the street parade around -through town and back to the circus lot. Many went in, and the ones that -didn't have any money hung around outside a while and explained to each -other they were going at night, because a circus is more fun at night -anyhow. Freckles didn't have any money, but his dad was going to take -him that night, so when the parade was over, him and me went back to -his dad's drug store on Main Street, and I crawled under the soda-water -counter to take a nap. - -Freckles's dad, that everyone calls Doc Watson, is a pretty good fellow -for a human, and he doesn't mind you hanging around the store if -you don't drag bones in or scratch too many fleas off. So I'm there -considerable in right hot weather. Under the soda water counter is the -coolest place for a dog in the whole town. There's a zinc tub under -there always full of water, where Doc washes the soda-water glasses, and -there's always considerable water slopped on to the floor. It's damp and -dark there always. Outdoors it may be so hot in the sun that your tongue -hangs out of you so far you tangle your feet in it, but in under there -you can lie comfortable and snooze, and when you wake up and want a -drink there's the tub with the glasses in it. And flies don't bother -you because they stay on top of the counter where soda water has been -spilled. - -Circus day was a hot one, and I must have drowsed off pretty quick after -lying down. I don't know how long I slept, but when I waked up it was -with a start, for something important was going on outside in Main -Street. I could hear people screaming and swearing and running along -the wooden sidewalk, and horses whinnying, and dogs barking, and old Si -Emery, the city marshal, was yelling out that he was an officer of the -law, and the steam whistle on the flour mill was blowing. And it all -seemed to be right in front of our store. I was thinking I'd better go -out and see about it, when the screen doors crashed like a runaway horse -had come through them, and the next minute a big yellow dog was back -of the counter, trying to scrouch down and scrooge under it like he was -scared and was hiding. He backed me into the corner without seeing me or -knowing I was there, and like to have squashed me. - -No dog--and it never struck me that maybe this wasn't a dog--no dog can -just calmly sit down on me like that when I'm waking up from a nap, -and get away with it, no matter _how_ big he is, and in spite of the -darkness under there I could see and feel that this was the biggest -dog in the world. I had been dreaming I was in a fight, anyhow, when he -crowded in there with his hindquarters on top of me, and I bit him on -the hind leg. - -When I bit him he let out a noise like a thrashing machine starting up. -It wasn't a bark. Nothing but the end of the world coming could bark -like that. It was a noise more like I heard one time when the boys dared -Freckles to lie down between the cattle guards on the railroad track and -let a train run over him about a foot above his head, and I laid down -there with him and it nearly deefened both of us. When he let out that -noise I says to myself, "Great guns! What kind of a dog have I bit?" - -And as he made that noise he jumped, and over went the counter, marble -top and all, with a smash, and jam into the show window he went, with -his tail swinging, and me right after him, practically on top of him. It -wasn't that I exactly intended to chase him, you understand, but I was -rattled on account of that awful noise he had let out, and I wanted to -get away from there, and I went the same way he did. So when he bulged -through the window glass on to the street I bulged right after him, and -as he hit the sidewalk I bit him again. The first time I bit him because -I was sore, but the second time I bit him because I was so nervous I -didn't know what I was doing, hardly. And at the second bite, without -even looking behind him, he jumped clean over the hitch rack and a team -of horses in front of the store and landed right in the middle of the -road with his tail between his legs. - -And then I realized for the first time he wasn't a dog at all. He was -the circus lion. - -Mind you, I'm not saying that I would have bit him at all if I'd a-known -at the start he was a lion. - -And I ain't saying I _wouldn't_ 'a' bit him, either. - -But actions speak louder than words, and records are records, and you -can't go back on them, and the fact is I _did_ bite him. I bit him -twice. - -And that second bite, when we came bulging through the window together, -the whole town saw. It was getting up telephone poles, and looking out -of second-story windows, and crawling under sidewalks and into cellars, -and trying to hide behind the town pump; but no matter where it was -trying to get to, it had one eye on that lion, and it saw me chasing him -out of that store. I don't say I would have chased him if he hadn't been -just ahead of me, anyhow, and I don't say I wouldn't have chased him, -but the facts are I _did_ chase him. - -The lion was just as scared as the town--and the town was so scared it -didn't know the lion was scared at all--and when his trainer got hold of -him in the road he was tickled to death to be led back to his cage, and -he lay down in the far corner of it, away from the people, and trembled -till he shook the wagon it was on. - -But if there was any further doubts in any quarter about me being an -aristocrat, the way I bit and chased that lion settled 'em forever. That -night Freckles and Doc went to the circus, and I marched in along with -them. And every kid in town, as they saw Freckles and me marching in, -says: - -"There goes the dog that licked the lion!" - -And Freckles, every time any one congratulated him on being the boy that -belonged to that kind of a dog, would say: - -"Blood will tell! Spot's an aristocrat, he is." - -And him and me and Doc Watson, his dad, stopped in front of the lion's -cage that night and took a good long look at him. He was a kind of an -old moth-eaten lion, but he was a lion all right, and he looked mighty -big in there. He looked so big that all my doubts come back on me, and -I says to myself: "Honest, now, if I'd _a-known_ he was a lion, and that -_big_ a lion, when I bit him, _would_ I have bit him or would I not?" - -But just then Freckles reached down and patted me on the head and said: -"You wasn't afraid of him, was you, old Spot! Yes, sir, blood will -tell!" - - - - -BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog) - -Ever since I bit a circus lion, believing him to be another dog -like myself, only larger, I have been what Doc Watson calls a Public -Character in our town. - -Freckles, my boy, was a kind of a public character, too. He went around -bragging about my noble blood and bravery, and all the other boys and -dogs in town sort of looked up to him and thought how lucky he was to -belong to a dog like me. And he deserved whatever glory he got of it, -Freckles did. For, if I do say it myself, there's not a dog in town got -a better boy than my boy Freckles, take him all in all. I'll back him -against any dog's boy that is anywhere near his size, for fighting, -swimming, climbing, foot-racing, or throwing stones farthest and -straightest. Or I'll back him against any stray boy, either. - -Well, some dogs may be born Public Characters, and like it. And some may -be brought up to like it. I've seen dogs in those travelling Uncle Tom's -Cabin shows that were so stuck on themselves they wouldn't hardly notice -us town dogs. But with me, becoming a Public Character happened all in -a flash, and it was sort of hard for me to get used to it. One day I was -just a private kind of a dog, as you might say, eating my meals at the -Watson's back door, and pretending to hunt rats when requested, and not -scratching off too many fleas in Doc Watson's drug store, and standing -out from underfoot when told, and other unremarkable things like that. -And the next day I had bit that lion and was a Public Character, and -fame came so sudden I scarcely knew how to act. - -Even drummers from big places like St. Louis and Chicago would come into -the drug store and look at my teeth and toe nails, as if they must be -different from other dogs' teeth and toe nails. And people would come -tooting up to the store in their little cars, and get out and look me -over and say: - -"Well, Doc, what'll you take for him?" and Doc would wink, and say: - -"He's Harold's dog. You ask Harold." - -Which Harold is Freckles's other name. But any boy that calls him Harold -outside of the schoolhouse has got a fight on his hands, if that boy is -anywhere near Freckles's size. Harry goes, or Hal goes, but Harold is -a fighting word with Freckles. Except, of course, with grown people. I -heard him say one day to Tom Mulligan, his parents thought Harold was a -name, or he guessed they wouldn't have given it to him; but it wasn't a -name, it was a handicap. - -Freckles would always say, "Spot ain't for sale." And even Heinie -Hassenyager, the butcher, got stuck on me after I got to be a Public -Character. Heinie would come two blocks up Main Street with lumps of -Hamburg steak, which is the kind someone has already chewed for you, and -give them to me. Steak, mind you, not old gristly scraps. And before I -became a Public Character Heinie even grudged me the bones I would drag -out of the box under his counter when he wasn't looking. - -My daily hope was that I could live up to it all. I had always tried, -before I happened to bite that lion, to be a friendly kind of a dog -toward boys and humans and dogs, all three. I'd always been expected to -do a certain amount of tail-wagging and be friendly. But as soon as I -got to be a Public Character, I saw right away I wasn't expected to be -_too_ friendly any more. So, every now and then, I'd growl a little, -for no reason at all. A dog that has bit a lion is naturally expected to -have fierce thoughts inside of him; I could see that. And you have got -to act the way humans expect you to act, if you want to slide along -through the world without too much trouble. - -So when Heinie would bring me the ready-chewed steak I'd growl at him a -little bit. And then I'd bolt and gobble the steak like I didn't think -so derned much of it, after all, and was doing Heinie a big personal -favour to eat it. And now and then I'd pretend I wasn't going to eat a -piece of it unless it was chewed finer for me, and growl at him about -that. - -That way of acting made a big hit with Heinie, too. I could see that he -was honoured and flattered because I didn't go any further than just a -growl. It gave him a chance to say he knew how to manage animals. And -the more I growled, the more steak he brought. Everybody in town fed -me. I pretty near ate myself to death for a while there, besides all the -meat I buried back of Doc Watson's store to dig up later. - -But my natural disposition is to be friendly. I would rather be loved -than feared, which is what Bill Patterson, the village drunkard, used -to say. When they put him into the calaboose every Saturday afternoon -he used to look out between the bars on the back window and talk to the -boys and dogs that had gathered round and say that he thanked them -one and all for coming to an outcast's dungeon as a testimonial of -affection, and he would rather be loved than feared. And my natural -feelings are the same. I had to growl and keep dignified and go on being -a Public Character, but often I would say to myself that it was losing -me all my real friends, too. - -The worst of it was that people, after a week or so, began to expect -me to pull something else remarkable. Freckles, he got up a circus, and -charged pins and marbles, and cents when he found any one that had any, -to get into it, and I was the principal part of that circus. I was in a -cage, and the sign over me read: - -SPOT, THE DOG THAT LICKED A LION - -TEN PINS ADMITTION - -To feed the lion-eater, one cent or two white chiney marbles extry but -bring your own meat. - -Pat him once on the head twinty pins, kids under five not allowed to. - -For shaking hands with Spot the lion-eater, girls not allowed, gents -three white chinies, or one aggie marble. - -Lead him two blocks down the street and back, one cent before starting, -no marbles or pins taken for leading him. - -For sicking him on to cats three cents or one red cornelian marble if -you furnish the cat. Five cents to use Watson's cat. Watson's biggest -Tom-cat six cents must be paid before sicking. Small kids and girls not -allowed to sick him on cats. - -Well, we didn't take in any cat-sicking money. And it was just as well. -You never can tell what a cat will do. But Freckles put it in because it -sounded sort of fierce. I didn't care for being caged and circused that -way myself. And it was right at that circus that considerable trouble -started. - -Seeing me in a cage like that, all famoused-up, with more meat poked -through the slats than two dogs could eat, made Mutt Mulligan and some -of my old friends jealous. - -Mutt, he nosed up by the cage and sniffed. I nosed a piece of meat out -of the cage to him. Mutt grabbed it and gobbled it down, but he didn't -thank me any. Mutt, he says: - -"There's a new dog down town that says he blew in from Chicago. He says -he used to be a Blind Man's Dog on a street corner there. He's a -pretty wise dog, and he's a right ornery-looking dog, too. He's peeled -considerably where he has been bit in fights." - -"Well, Mutt," says I, "as far as that goes I'm peeled considerable -myself where I've been bit in fights." - -"I know you are, Spot," says Mutt. "You don't need to tell me that. I've -peeled you some myself from time to time." - -"Yes," I says, "you did peel me some, Mutt. And I've peeled you some, -too. More'n that, I notice that right leg of yours is a little stiff yet -where I got to it about three weeks ago." - -"Well, then, Spot," says Mutt, "maybe you want to come down here and see -what you can do to my other three legs. I never saw the day I wouldn't -give you a free bite at one leg and still be able to lick you on the -other three." - -"You wouldn't talk that way if I was out of this cage," I says, getting -riled. - -"What did you ever let yourself be put into that fool cage for?" Mutt -says. "You didn't have to. You got such a swell head on you the last -week or so that you gotto be licked. You can fool boys and humans all -you want to about that accidental old lion, but us dogs got your number, -all right. What that Blind Man's Dog from Chicago would do to you would -be a plenty!" - -"Well, then," I says, "I'll be out of this cage along about supper time. -Suppose you bring that Blind Man's Dog around here. And if he ain't -got a spiked collar on to him, I'll fight him. I won't fight a -spike-collared dog to please anybody." - -And I wouldn't, neither, without I had one on myself, If you can't get -a dog by the throat or the back of his neck, what's the use of fighting -him? You might just as well try to eat a blacksmith shop as fight one of -those spike-collared dogs. - -"Hey, there!" Freckles yelled at Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's -boy. "You get your fool dog away from the lion-eaters cage!" - -Tom, he histed Mutt away. But he says to Freckles, being jealous -himself, "Don't be scared, Freck, I won't let my dog hurt yours any. -Spot, he's safe. He's in a cage where Mutt can't get to him." - -Freckles got riled. He says, "1 ain't in any cage, Tom." - -Tom, he didn't want to fight very bad. But all the other boys and dogs -was looking on. And he'd sort of started it. He didn't figure that he -could shut up that easy. And there was some girls there, too. - -"If I was to make a pass at you," says Tom, "you'd wish you was in a -cage." - -Freckles, he didn't want to fight so bad, either. But he was running -this circus, and he didn't feel he could afford to pass by what Tom said -too easy. So he says: - -"Maybe you think you're big enough to put me into a cage." - -"If I was to make a pass at you," says Tom, "there wouldn't be enough -left of you to put in a cage." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "why don't you make a pass at me?" - -"Maybe you figure I don't dast to," says Tom. - -"I didn't say you didn't dast to," says Freckles; "any one that says -I said you didn't dast to is a link, link, liar, and so's his Aunt -Mariar." - -Tom, he says, "I ain't got any Aunt Mariar. And you're another and -dastn't back it." - -Then some of the other kids put chips on to their shoulders. And each -dared the other to knock his chip off. And the other kids pushed and -jostled them into each other till both chips fell off, and they went at -it then. Once they got started they got really mad and each did all he -knew how. - -And right in the midst of it Mutt run in and bit Freckles on the calf -of his leg. Any dog will fight for his boy when his boy is getting the -worst of it. But when Mutt did that I give a bulge against the wooden -slats on the cage and two of them came off, and I was on top of Mutt. -The circus was in the barn, and the hens began to scream and the horses -began to stomp, and all the boys yelled, "Sick 'im!" and "Go to it!" -and danced around and hollered, and the little girls yelled, and all the -other dogs began to bark, and it was a right lively and enjoyable time. -But Mrs. Watson, Freckles's mother, and the hired girl ran out from the -house and broke the fight up. - -Grown women are like that. They don't want to fight themselves, and -they don't seem to want any one else to have any fun. You gotto be a -hypocrite around a grown woman to get along with her at all. And then -she'll feed you and make a lot of fuss over you. But the minute you -start anything with real enjoyment in it she's surprised to see you -acting that way. Nobody was licked satisfactory in that fight, or licked -any one else satisfactory. - -Well, that night after supper, along comes that Blind Man's Dog. Never -did I see a Blind Man's Dog that was as tight-skinned. I ain't a dog -that brags, myself, and I don't say I would have licked that heavy a dog -right easy, even if he had been a loose-skinned dog. What I do say is -that I had been used to fighting looseskinned dogs that you can get -some sort of a reasonable hold on to while you are working around for -position. And running into a tight-skinned dog that way, all of a sudden -and all unprepared for it, would make anybody nervous. How are you -going to get a purchase on a tight-skinned dog when you've been fighting -looseskinned dogs for so long that your teeth and jaws just naturally -set themselves for a loose-skinned dog without thinking of it? - -Lots of dogs wouldn't have fought him at all when they realized how they -had been fooled about him, and how tight-skinned he was. But I was a -Public Character now, and I had to fight him. More than that, I ain't -ready to say yet that that dog actually licked me. Freckles he hit him -in the ribs with a lump of soft coal, and he got off of me and run away -before I got my second wind. There's no telling what I would have done -to that Blind Man's Dog, tight-skinned as he was, if he hadn't run away -before I got my second wind. - -Well, there's some mighty peculiar dogs in this world, let alone boys -and humans. The word got around town, in spite of his running away like -that before I got my second wind, that that Blind Man's Dog, so called, -had actually licked me! Many pretended to believe it. Every time -Freckles and me went down the street someone would say: - -"Well, the dog that licked the lion got licked himself, did he?" - -And if it was a lady said it, Freckles would spit on the sidewalk -through the place where his front teeth are out and pass on politely as -if he hadn't heard, and say nothing. And if it was a man that said it -Freckles would thumb his nose at him. And if it was a girl that said -it he would rub a handful of sand into her hair. And if it was a boy -anywhere near his size, there would be a fight. If it was too big a boy, -Freckles would sling railroad iron at him. - -For a week or so it looked like Freckles and I were fighting all the -time. Three or four times a day, and every day. Oft the way to school, -and all through recess-times, and after school, and every time we went -on to the street. I got so chewed and he got so busted up that we didn't -hardly enjoy life. - -No matter how much you may like to fight, some of the time you would -like to pick the fights yourself and not have other people picking them -off of you. Kids begun to fight Freckles that wouldn't have dast to -stand up to him a month before. I was still a Public Character, but I -was getting to be the kind you josh about instead of the kind you are -proud to feed. I didn't care so awful much for myself, but I hated it -for Freckles. For when they got us pretty well hacked, all the boys -began to call him Harold again. - -And after they had called him Harold for a week he must have begun to -think of himself as Harold. For one Saturday afternoon when there wasn't -any school, instead of going swimming with the other kids or playing -baseball, or anything, he went and played with girls. - -He must have been pretty well down-hearted and felt himself pretty much -of an outcast, or he wouldn't have done that. I am an honest dog, and -the truth must be told, the disgrace along with everything else, and -the truth is that he played with girls of his own accord that day--not -because he was sent to their house on an errand, not because it was a -game got up with boys and girls together, not because it was cousins -and he couldn't dodgje them, but because he was an outcast. Any boy will -play with girls when all the boys and girls are playing together, and -some girls are nearly as good as boys; but no boy is going off alone to -look up a bunch of girls and play with them without being coaxed unless -he has had considerable of a down-fall. - -Right next to the side of our yard was the Wilkinses. They had a bigger -house and a bigger yard than ours. Freckles was sitting on the top of -the fence looking into their orchard when the three Wilkins girls came -out to play. There was only two boys in the Wilkins family, and they was -twins; but they were only year-old babies and didn't amount to anything. -The two oldest Wilkins girls, the taffy-coloured-haired one and the -squint-eyed one, each had one of the twins, taking care of it. And the -other Wilkins girl, the pretty one, she had one of those big dolls made -as big as a baby. - -They were rolling those babies and the doll around the grass in a -wheelbarrow, and the wheel came off, and that's how Freckles happened to -go over. - -"Up in the attic," says the taffy-coloured-haired one, when he had fixed -up the wheelbarrow, "there's a little old express wagon with one wheel -off that would be better'n this wheelbarrow. Maybe you could fix that -wheel on, too, Harold." - -Freckles, he fell for it. After he got the wagon fixed, they got to -playing charades and fool girl games like that. The hired girl was off -for the afternoon, and pretty soon Mrs. Wilkins hollered up the stairs -that she was going to be gone for an hour, and to take good care of the -twins, and then we were alone in the place. - -Well, it wasn't much fun for me. They played and they played, and I -stuck to Freckles--which his name was called nothing but Harold all that -afternoon, and for the first time I said to myself "Harold" seemed to -fit. I stuck to him because a dog should stick to his boy, and a boy -should stick to his dog, no matter what the disgrace. But after while -I got pretty tired and lay down on a rug, and a new kind of flea struck -me. After I had chased him down and cracked him with my teeth I went to -sleep. - -I must have slept pretty sound and pretty long. All of a sudden I waked -up with a start, and almost choking, for the place was smoky. I barked -and no one answered. - -I ran out on to the landing, and the whole house was full of smoke. The -house was on fire, and it looked like I was alone in it. I went down the -back stairway, which didn't seem so full of smoke, but the door that let -out on to the first-floor landing was locked, and I had to go back up -again. - -By the time I got back up, the front stairway was a great deal fuller -of smoke, and I could see glints of flame winking through it way down -below. But it was my only way out of that place. On the top step I -stumbled over a gray wool bunch of something or other, and I picked it -up in my mouth. Thinks I, "That is Freckles's gray sweater, that he is -so stuck on. I might as well take it down to him." - -It wasn't so hard for a lively dog to get out of a place like that, I -thought. But I got kind of confused and excited, too. And it struck me -all of a sudden, by the time I was down to the second floor, that that -sweater weighed an awful lot. - -1 dropped it on the second floor, and ran into one of the front bedrooms -and looked out. - -By jings! the whole town was in the front yard and in the street. - -And in the midst of the crowd was Mrs. Wilkins, carrying on like mad. - -"My baby!" she yelled. "Save my baby. Let me loose! I'm going after my -baby!" - -I stood up on my hind legs, with my head just out of that bedroom -window, and the flame and smoke licking up all around me, and barked. - -"My doggie! My doggie!" yells Freckles, who was in the crowd, "I must -save my doggie!" And he made a run for the house, but someone grabbed -him and slung him back. - -And Mrs. Wilkins made a run, but they held her, too. The front of the -house was one sheet of flame. Old Pop Wilkins, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, -was jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Wilkins yelling, here was her -baby. He had a real baby in one arm and that big doll in the other, and -was so excited he thought he had both babies. Later I heard what had -happened. The kids had thought they were getting out with both twins but -one of them had saved the doll and left a twin behind. The squint-eyed -girl and the taffy-coloured-haired girl and the pretty girl was howling -as loud as their mother. And every now and then some man would make a -rush for the front door, but the fire would drive him back. And everyone -was yelling advice to everyone else, except one man who was calling on -the whole town to get him an axe. The volunteer fire engine was there, -but there wasn't any water to squirt through it, and it had been backed -up too near the house and had caught fire and was burning up. - -Well, I thinks that baby will likely turn up in the crowd somewhere, -after all, and I'd better get out of there myself while the getting was -good. I ran out of the bedroom, and run into that bunched-up gray bundle -again. - -I ain't saying that I knew it was the missing twin in a gray shawl when -I picked it up the second time. And I ain't saying that I didn't know -it. But the fact is that I did pick it up. I don't make any brag that I -would have risked my life to save Freckles's sweater. It may be I was so -rattled I just picked it up because I had had it in my mouth before and -didn't quite know what I was doing. - -But the _record_ is something you can't go behind, and the record is -that I got out the back way and into the back yard with that bundle -swinging from my mouth, and walked round into the front yard and laid -that bundle down--_and it was the twin!_ - -1 don't make any claim that I _knew_ it was the twin till I got into the -front yard, mind you. But you can't prove I _didn't_ know it was. - -And nobody tried to prove it. The gray bundle let out a squall. - -"My baby!" yells Mrs. Wilkins. And she kissed me! I rubbed it off with -my paw. And then the taffy-coloured-haired one kissed me. And the first -thing I knew the pretty one kissed me. But when I saw the squint-eyed -one coming I got behind Freckles and barked. - -"Three cheers for Spot!" yelled the whole town. And they give them. - -And then I saw what the lay of the land was, so 1 wagged my tail and -barked. - -It called for that hero stuff, and I throwed my head up and looked -noble--and pulled it. - -An hour before Freckles and me had been outcasts. And now we was Public -Characters again. We walked down Main Street, and we owned it. And -we hadn't any more than got to Doc Watson's drug store than in rushed -Heinie Hassenyager with a lump of Hamburg steak, and with tears in his -eyes. - -"It's got chicken livers mixed in it, too!" says Heinie. I ate it. But -while I ate it, I growled at him. - - - - -WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) - -Never did I suppose that I would be a bloodhound in an "Uncle Tom's -Cabin" show. But I have been one, and my constant wish is that it has -not made me too proud and haughty. For proud and haughty dogs, sooner -or later, all have their downfalls. The dog that was the rightful -bloodhound in that show was the proudest and haughtiest dog I ever met, -and he had his downfall. - -Other proud and haughty dogs I have seen, in my time; and some of them -I have licked, and some of them have licked me. For instance, there was -the one that used to be a blind man's dog on a street corner in Chicago. -He was a tough, loud-barking, red-eyed dog, full of suspiciousness and -fleas; and his disposition was so bad that it was even said that if one -of his fleas bit an ordinary dog, that ordinary dog would swell up where -he was bit as if a hornet had stung him. He was proud of those fleas and -proud of being that ornery; but he had his downfall. - -Another proud and haughty dog I knew belonged to the dog and pony part -of a circus that came to our town once. He sat in a little cart in the -street parade, with a clown's hat and jacket on, and drove a Shetland -pony. You couldn't get him into a fight; he would just grin and say he -was worth too much money to risk himself in a fight, especially as the -money he was worth did not belong to him anyhow, but to the circus that -owned him. He said it wouldn't be honest to risk other people's money -just because he wanted to fight; but I have never believed that he -really wanted to fight. He grinned mostly all the time, a conceited kind -of grin, and he would up-end himself and stand on his head for you to -admire him, and then flop over and bark and look proud of his own tricks -and proud of the money he was worth. But he had his downfall right in -the midst of his greatest pride, for a brindle Tom-cat with one eye -went after him right in the middle of that street parade, and he left -that cart very quickly, and it nearly broke up the parade. - -But the proudest and haughtiest of all was the bloodhound that owned -that Uncle Tom show--leastways, he acted as if he owned it. It was a -show that showed in a tent, like a regular circus, and it stayed in our -town three days. It had a street parade, too; and this bloodhound was -led along at the head of the street parade with a big heavy muzzle on, -and he was loaded down with chains and shackles so he could hardly walk. -Besides the fellow that led him, there were two more men that followed -along behind him and held on to chains that were fastened to his collar. -In front of him marched the Uncle Tom of that show; and every now and -then the bloodhound would struggle to get at Uncle Tom and be pulled -back. He was a very dangerous-looking dog, and you thought to yourself -what a lot of damage he would probably do if he was ever to bite those -chains to pieces and eat up those three men that held him and chew Uncle -Tom and then run loose into the world. Every step he took he would toss -his head and jangle those chains and growl. - -After the parade was over, a lot of us dogs and boys went down to the -lot where the show was to be held. We were hanging around the tent where -the actors were eating, and that bloodhound dog was there without chains -like any other dog, and us dogs got to talking with him. - -"You country-town dogs," he says to Mutt Mulligan, who is a friend of -mine and some considerable dog himself, "don't want to come fussin' -around too close to my cook tent or my show! Us troupers ain't got any -too much use for you hick dogs, anyhow." - -"Oh, it's _your_ show, is it?" says Mutt. - -"Whose show did you think it was?" says that bloodhound dog, very -haughty. - -"1 thought from all those chains and things, maybe the show owned you, -instead of you owning the show," says Mutt. - -"You saw who led that street parade, didn't you?" says the bloodhound -dog. "Well, that ought to tell you who the chief actor of this show is. -This here show is built up around me. If anything was to happen to me, -there couldn't be any show." - -Mutt, he gave me a signal with his tail to edge in a little closer, and -I sidled up to where I could grab a front leg unexpected to him, if he -made a pass at Mutt. And then Mutt says, sneering so his teeth stuck out -and his nose wrinkled: - -"Something's goin' to happen to you, if you ain't more polite and -peaceable in your talk." - -"What's goin' to happen to me?" says that bloodhound dog. - -"Don't you let them bristles rise around your neck," says Mutt, "or -you'll find out what's goin' to happen to you." - -"Whose bristles are they?" says that bloodhound dog. - -"It don't make any difference whose bristles they are," says Mutt. "No -dog can stick his bristles up into my face like that and get away with -it. When I see bristles stand up, I take it personal." - -But just then Old Uncle Zeb White, who is coloured, come amoseyin' -along, and that Tom-show dog barked out: - -"Somebody hold me! Quick! Somebody muzzle me! Somebody better put my -chains on to me again! Somebody better tell that coloured man to clear -out of here! I've been trained to chase coloured men! What do they mean -by letting that coloured man get near my show tent?" - -Old Uncle Zeb, he is the quietest and most peaceable person anywhere, -amongst dogs, boys, or humans, and the janitor of the Baptist church. He -is the only coloured man in our town, and is naturally looked up to and -respected with a good deal of admiration and curiosity on that account, -and also because he is two hundred years old. He used to be the -bodyservant of General George Washington, he says, until General -Washington set him free. And then along comes Abraham Lincoln after -a while and sets him free again, he says. And being set free by two -prominent men like that, Uncle Zeb figures he is freer than anybody -else, and I have heard him tell, time and again, how he can't speak -kindly enough of them two white gentlemen. - -"Don't anybody sick me on to that coloured man," says this bloodhound -dog. "If I was to be sicked on to that coloured man, this whole town -couldn't pull me off again! I been trained to it, I tell you!" - -Which it was easy enough to see he really didn't want to start anything; -it was just his pride and haughtiness working in him. Just then -Freckles Watson, who is my boy that I own, and Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt -Mulligan's boy, both says: "Sick 'im!" Not that they understood what -us dogs was talking about, but they saw me and Mutt sidling around that -Tom-show dog, and it looked to them like a fight could be commenced. But -the Tom-show dog, when he heard that "Sick 'im!" jumped and caught Uncle -Zeb by a leg of his trousers. Then Uncle Zeb's own dog, which his name -is Burning Deck after a piece Uncle Zeb heard recited one time, comes -a-bulging and a-bouncing through the crowd and grabs that Tom-show dog -by the neck. - -They rolled over and over, and into the eating tent, and under the -table. The actors jumped up, and the table got tipped over, and the -whole meal and the tin dishes they was eating off of and all the actors -and the benches and the dogs was wallowing and banging and kicking and -barking and shouting on the ground in a mess, and all of us other dogs -run in to help Burning Deck lick that bloodhound, and all the boys -followed their dogs in to see a square deal, and then that tent come -down on top of everything, and believe me it was some enjoyable time. -And I found quite a sizeable piece of meat under there in the mix-up, -and I thinks to myself I better eat that while I can get it, so I -crawled out with it. Outside is sitting Uncle Zeb, watching that -fallen-down tent heaving and twisting and squirming, and I heard him say -to himself: - -"White folks is allers gittin' up some kin' of entuh-tainment fo' us -cullud people to look at! Us cullud people suah does git treated fine in -dese heah Nothe'n towns!" - -Pretty soon everybody comes crawling out from under that tent, and they -straightens her up, and the boss of the show begins to talk like Uncle -Zeb has done the whole thing, and Uncle Zeb just sits on the grass and -smiles and scratches his head. And finally the boss of the show says to -Uncle Zeb could he hire Burning Deck for the bloodhound's part? Because -Burning Deck has just about chewed that proud and haughty dog to pieces, -and they've got to have a bloodhound! - -"No, suh," says Uncle Zeb. "No, suh! I thank yo' kindly fo' yo' offer, -suh, but Burnin' Deck, he ain't gwine inter no show whah he likely ter -be sicked on ter no cullud pusson. Burnin' Deck, he allers been a good -Republican, bringed up that-a-way, des de same as me, an' we ain't gwine -ter take no paht in any gwines-on agin' de cullud nation." - -"But see here," says the boss. "In this show the coloured people get all -the best of it. In this show the coloured people go to Heaven!" - -Uncle Zeb says he had heard a good deal about that Uncle Tom show in his -life, first and last, and because he had heard so much, he went to see -it one time. And he says if getting chased by bloodhounds and whipped by -whips is giving them the best of it, he hopes he never obtains admission -to any show where they get the worst of it. The boss, he says that show -is the show that helped make the coloured people free, and Uncle Zeb -ought to be proud of Burning Deck acting in it. But Uncle Zeb says he -ain't to be fooled; it was General Washington set 'em free first, and -Abraham Lincoln set 'em free the second time, and now President Wilson -is licking them Germans and setting them free again. And as for him, he -says, he will stick to his own white folks that he knows and janitors -for and whose clothes fit him, and Burning Deck will do the same. And -as far as them Tom-show coloured folks' going to heaven is concerned, he -reckons he don't want to be chased there by no bloodhounds; and it ain't -likely that a man that has janitored for a Baptist church as faithful as -he has would go anywhere else, anyhow. So he takes Burning Deck and goes -along home. - -"I've got to have a dog," says the boss, watching them get the tent -fixed up, and rubbing his head. - -"Would Spot do?" says Freckles, which is my boy, Spot being me. - -Well, I never expected to be an actor, as I said before. But they struck -a bargain, which Freckles was to get free admission to that show, and I -was to be painted and dyed up some and be a bloodhound. Which the boss -said the regular bloodhound which Burning Deck had eat so much of wasn't -really a bloodhound, anyhow, but only a big mongrel with bloodhound -notions in his head. - -Well, maybe you've seen that show. Which all the bloodhound has to do is -to run across the stage chasing that Uncle Tom, and Freckles was to run -across with me, so there wasn't much chance to go wrong. - -And nothing would have gone wrong if it hadn't been for Burning Deck. -Uncle Zeb White must have got over his grouch against that show, for -there he was sitting in the front row with a new red handkerchief around -his throat and his plug hat on his knees, and Burning Deck was there -with him. I never had anything but liking for Uncle Zeb, for he knows -where to scratch dogs. But Burning Deck and me have never been close -friends, on account of him being jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches you -too long. He even is jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches a pig, which all -the pigs in town that can get loose have a habit of coming to Uncle -Zeb's cottage to be scratched, and they say around town that some of -those pigs never find their way home again. Squeals have been heard -coming from Uncle Zeb's kitchen, but the rest of the pigs never seem to -learn. - -But no self-respecting dog would be jealous if his boss scratched a pig. -For after all, what is a pig? It is just a pig, and that is all you -can say for it. A pig is not a person; a pig is something to eat. But -Burning Deck is a peculiar dog, and he gets ideas into his head. And so, -right in the midst of the show, when I chased that coloured man across -the stage, Burning Deck all of a sudden jumped up on to the platform and -grabbed me. I would have licked him then and there, but what was left of -the show's bloodhound come crawling out on to the stage dragging two -of his legs, and Burning Deck turned from me to him, and then all the -actors run on to the stage to save what was left of the bloodhound, and -Si Emery, the city marshal, threw open his coat so you could see his big -star and climbed on to the stage and arrested everybody, and somebody -dropped the curtain down right into the midst of it. - -And the way it happened, on the outside of the curtain was left Freckles -and me and the Little Eva of that show, which she is beautiful, with -long yellow hair and pink cheeks and white clothes like an angel. And -before Freckles could stop her, she took hold of him by the hand and -says to the audience won't they please be kind to the poor travelling -troupers and not let them be under arrest, and let the show go on? And -she cried considerable, and all through her crying you could hear Si -Emery behind the curtain arresting people; and after while some of the -women in the audience got to crying, too, and the city fathers was all -in the audience, and they went up on to the stage and told Si, for the -sake of Little Eva, to release everyone he had arrested, and after that -the show went on. - -Well, after the show was out, quite a lot of the dogs and boys that was -friends of mine and of Freckles was waiting for us. Being in a show like -that made us heroes. But some of them were considerably jealous of us, -too, and there would have been some fights, but Freckles says kind of -dignified that he does not care to fight until his show is out of town, -but after that he will take on any and all who dare--that is, he says, -if he doesn't decide to go with that show, which the show is crazy -to have him do. And me and him and Stevie Stevenson, which is his -particular chum, goes off and sets down on the schoolhouse steps, and -Stevie tells him what a good actor he was, running across the stage with -me after that Uncle Tom. But Freckles, he is sad and solemn, and he only -fetches a sigh. - -"What's eatin' you, Freckles?" Stevie asks him. Freckles, he sighs a -couple of times more, and then he says: - -"Stevie, I'm in love." - -"Gosh, Freckles," says Stevie. "Honest?" - -"Honest Injun," says Freckles. - -"Do you know who with?" says Stevie. - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles. "If you didn't know who with, how would you -know you was?" - -But Stevie, he says you might be and not know who with, easy enough. -Once, he says, he was like that. He says he was feeling kind of queer -for a couple of weeks last spring, and they dosed him and dosed him, -with sassafras and worm-medicine and roots and herbs, and none of it did -any good. His mother says it is growing-pains, and his father says it -is either laziness and not wanting to hoe in the garden or else it is -a tapeworm. And he thinks himself maybe it is because he is learning to -chew and smoke tobacco on the sly and keeps swallowing a good deal of it -right along. But one day he hears his older sister and another big girl -talking when they don't know he is around, and they are in love, both -of them, and from what he can make out, their feelings is just like his. -And it come to him all of a sudden he must be in love himself, and it -was days and days before he found out who it was that he was in love -with. - -"Who was it?" asks Freckles. - -"It turned out to be Mabel Smith," says Stevie, "and I was scared plumb -to death for a week or two that she would find out about it. I used to -put toads down her back and stick burrs into her hair so she wouldn't -never guess it." - -Stevie says he went through days and days of it, and for a while he was -scared that it might last forever, and he don't ever want to be in love -again. Suppose it should be found out on a fellow that he was in love? - -"Stevie," says Freckles, "this is different." - -Stevie asks him how he means. - -"I _want_ her to know," says Freckles. - -"Great Scott!" says Stevie. "No!" - -"Uh-huh!" - -"It don't show on you, Freckles," says Stevie. - -Freckles says of course it don't show. Only first love shows, he says. -Once before he was in love, he says, and that showed on him. That was -last spring, and he was only a kid then, and he was in love with Miss -Jones, the school teacher, and didn't know how to hide it. But this -time he can hide it, because this time he feels that it is different. He -swallows down the signs of it, he says, the way you keep swallowing down -the signs of it when you have something terrible like heart-disease or -stomach-trouble, and nobody will ever know it about him, likely, till -after he is dead. - -And when he is dead, Freckles says, they will all wonder what he died -of, and maybe he will leave a note, wrote in his own blood, to tell. And -they will all come in Injun file and pass through the parlour, he says, -where his casket will be set on to four chairs, and She will come filing -by and look at him, and she will say not to bury him yet, for there is a -note held tight in his hand. - -And everybody will say: "A note? A note? Who can it be to?" - -And She will say to pardon her for taking the liberty at a time like -this, but She has saw her own name on to that note. And then, Freckles -says, She will open it and read it out loud right there in the parlour -to all of them, and they will all say how the departed must have liked -her to draw up a note to her wrote in his own blood like that. - -And then, Freckles says, She will say, yes, he must have liked her, and -that she liked him an awful lot, too, but She never knew he liked her, -and She wished now she had of known he liked her an awful lot, because -to write a note in his own blood like that showed that he liked her an -awful lot, and if he only was alive now she would show she liked him an -awful lot and would kiss him to show it. And she would not be scared to -kiss him in front of all those people standing around the sides of the -parlour, dead or alive. And then she would kiss him, Freckles says. And -maybe, Freckles says, he wouldn't be dead after all, but only just lying -there like the boy that travelled around with the hypnotizer who was put -in a store window and laid there all the time the hypnotizer was in town -with everybody making bets whether they could see him breathing or not. -And then, Freckles says, he would get up out of his casket, and his -Sunday suit with long pants would be on, and he would take the note and -say: "Yes, it is to you, and I wrote it with my own blood!" - -Which, Freckles says, he has a loose tooth he could suck blood out -of any time, not wanting to scrape his arm on account of blood poison -breaking out. Though he says he had thought of using some of Spot's -blood, but that would seem disrespectful, somehow. And the tooth-blood -seemed disrespectful, too, for he did not know the girl right well. But -it would have to be the tooth-blood, he guessed, for there was a fellow -out by the county line got lockjaw from blood poison breaking out on -him, and died of it. And when She handed him the note, Freckles says, -he would tell the people in the parlour: "Little Eva and I forgive you -all!" - -"Little Eva!" says Stevie. "Gosh all fish hooks, Freckles, it ain't the -girl in the show, is it?" - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles, kind of sad and proud. "Freckles," says Stevie, -after they had both set there and thought, saying nothing, for a while, -"I got just one more question to ask you: Are you figuring you will get -married? Is it as bad as that?" - -"Uh-huh!" says Freckles. - -Stevie, he thought for another while, and then he got up and put his -hand on to Freckles's shoulder. - -"Freckles, old scout," he says, "good-bye. I'm awful sorry for you, but -I can't chase around with you any more. I can't be seen running with -you. I won't tell this on you, but if it was ever to come out I wouldn't -want to be too thick with you. You know what the Dalton Gang would do to -you, Freck, if they ever got on to this. I won't blab, but I can't take -no risks about chumming with you." - -And he went away and left Freckles and me sitting there. But in a minute -he came back and said: - -"Freckles, you know that iron sling-shot crotch of mine? You always used -to be stuck on that slingshot crotch, Freckles, and I never would trade -it to you. Well, Freckles, you can have that darned old iron slingshot -crotch free for nothing!" - -"Stevie," says Freckles, "I don't want it." - -"Gosh!" says Stevie, and he went off, shaking his head. - -And I was considerable worried myself. I tagged him along home, and he -wasn't natural. He went into the house, and I tagged him along in and up -to his room, and he took no notice of me, though I'm not supposed to be -there at all. - -And what do you suppose that kid did?--he went and washed his ears. -It was midnight, and there wasn't any one to make him do it, and there -wasn't any one to see his ears but me, but he washed 'em careful, inside -and out. And then he wet his hair and combed it. First he parted it on -one side, and then he parted it x on the other, and then he blushed and -parted it in the middle. I was sitting on the floor by the foot of the -bed, and he was facing the looking-glass, but I saw the blush because it -spread clear around to the back of his neck. - -And then he went to the closet and put on his long pants that belonged -to his Sunday suit. The looking-glass wasn't big enough so he could -see his hair and his long pants all at the same time, but he tilted the -glass and squirmed and twisted around and saw them bit by bit. At first -I thought maybe he was going out again, even at that time of night, but -he wasn't; all he was doing was admiring himself. Just then his father -pounded on the wall and asked him if he wasn't in bed yet, and he said -he was going. He put the light out right away. But he didn't go to bed. -He just sat in the dark with his clean ears and his long pants on and -his hair parted in the middle, and several times before I went to sleep -myself I heard him sigh and say: "Little Eva! Little Eva's dying! Little -Eva!" - -He must have got so tired he forgot to undress, staying up that late and -everything, for in the morning when his father pounded on the door he -didn't answer. I was under the bed, and I stayed there. Pretty soon his -father pounded again, and then he came into the room. And there Freckles -was lying on the bed with his Sunday pants on and his hair parted in the -middle and his ears clean. - -"Harold!" says his father, and shook him, "what does this mean?" - -Harold is Freckles's other name, but if any one of his size calls him -Harold, there will be a fight. He sat up on the bed and says, still -sleepy: - -"What does what mean, Pa?" - -"Your lying there asleep with your clothes on," says his father.. - -"I was dressing, and I went to sleep again," says Freckles. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father. "It looks like it, don't it?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -I had crawled out to the foot of the bed where I could see them, and he -was still sleepy, but he was trying hard to think up something. - -"It looks a lot like it," says his father. "If you had slept in that -bed, the covers would have been turned down, wouldn't they?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, looking at them. - -"Well, what then?" says his father. - -"Well, Pa," says Freckles, "I guess I must have made that bed up again -in my sleep, and I never knew it." - -"Humph!" says his father. "Do you do that often?" - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, "a good deal lately." - -"Harold," says his father, real interested, "aren't you feeling well -these days?" - -"No, Pa," says Freckles, "I ain't felt so very well for quite a while." - -"Humph!" says his pa. "How does it come when you dressed yourself you -put on your Sunday pants, and this is only Tuesday?" - -Harold says he guesses he did that in his sleep, too, the same time he -made the bed up. - -His pa wants to know if that has ever happened to him before. - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles, "once I woke up in the moonlight right out -on one of the top limbs of the big maple tree in the front yard, with my -Sunday suit on." - -"Humph!" says his father. "And was your hair parted in the middle that -time, too?" - -Freckles, he blushes till you can hardly see his freckles, and feels of -his hair. But he is so far in, now, that he can't get out. So he says: - -"Yes, sir, every time I get taken that way, so I go around in my sleep, -Pa, I find my hair has been parted in the middle, the next morning." - -"Uh-huh!" says his pa. "Let's see your ears." And he pinched one of them -while he was looking at it, and Freckles says, "Ouch!" - -"I thought so," says his pa, but didn't say what he thought right away. -Then pretty soon he says: "Those ears have been washed since that neck -has." - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -"Did you do that in your sleep, too?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Do you always do that when you have those spells of yours?" - -"Yes, sir, I always find my ears have been washed the next morning." - -"But never your neck?" - -"Sometimes my neck has, and sometimes it hasn't," said Freckles. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father, and took notice of me. I wagged my tail, and -hung my tongue out, and acted friendly and joyful and happy. If you -want to stay on good terms with grown-up humans, you have to keep them -jollied along. I wasn't supposed to be in the house at night, anyhow, -but I hoped maybe it would be overlooked. - -"Did you paint and dye that dog up that way?" asked Freckles's father. -For of course the paint and dye they had put on me was still there. - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. "Nearly always when I come to myself in the -morning I find I have dyed Spot." - -"That's queer, too," said his father. And then Harold says he dyes other -dogs, too, and once when he woke up in the maple tree there were three -strange dogs he had dyed at the foot of it. - -"Harold," says his father, "how often do these spells come on?" - -Freckles, he says, some weeks they come often and some weeks hardly -ever. - -"Humph!" says his father. "And when they come on, do you notice it is -harder for you to tell the truth than at any other times?" - -Freckles says he doesn't know what he says in his sleep when those -spells take him, nor even whether he talks in his sleep or not, but he -guesses if he does talk in his sleep what he says would be talk about -his dreams, but he can't remember what his dreams are, so he doesn't -know whether what he says is true or not. - -"Uh-huh!" says his father. "Harold, do you own a gun?" - -"No, sir," says Harold. Which is true, for he only owns a third interest -in a gun. Tom Mulligan and Stevie Stevenson own the rest of it, and they -are keeping it hid in the rafters of Tom Mulligan's barn till they can -save money enough to get it fixed so it will shoot. - -"You haven't killed anybody in these spells of yours, have you, Harold?" -asks his father. - -"No, sir," says Freckles. - -"How would you know if you had?" asks his father. - -Freckles says there would be blood on him next morning, wouldn't there? - -"Not," says his father, "if you stood at a distance and killed them with -a gun." - -Freckles knows he hasn't ever really had any of these spells he says he -has had, but from his looks I should judge he was scared, too, by the -way his father was acting. - -"Pa," he says, "has any one been found dead?" - -"The body hasn't been found yet," says his father, "but from what I -heard you say, early this morning in your sleep, I should judge one will -be found." - -I thinks to myself maybe Freckles does do things in his sleep after all, -and from the looks of his face he thinks so, too. He is looking scared. - -"Pa," he says, "who did I kill? What did I say?" - -"You said: 'Little Eva's dying! Little Eva's dying!'" said his father. -"I heard you say it over and over again in your sleep." - -Freckles, he gets red in the face again, and stares at his feet, and his -pa stands and grins at him for a minute or two. And then his pa says: -"Get into your weekday clothes and wash your face and neck to match your -ears, and come on down to breakfast. When you get ready to tell what's -on your mind, all right; but don't try to tell lies to your dad." - -"Yes, sir," says Freckles. - -But he looked mighty gloomy. And when his father went out of the room -he got his fountain pen and sucked some blood out of his loose tooth and -tried to spit it into his fountain pen. From which I judged he was still -of a notion to write that letter and was pretty low in his mind. But he -couldn't spit it into the pen, right. And he cried a little, and then -saw me watching him crying and slapped at me with a hairbrush; and then -he petted me and I let him pet me, for a dog, if he is any sort of dog -at all, will always stand by his boy in trouble as well as gladness, and -overlook things. A boy hasn't got much sense, anyhow; and a boy without -a dog to keep him steered right must have a pretty tough time in the -world. - -If he was low in his mind then, he was lower in his mind before the -day was through. For after breakfast there was Stevie Stevenson and Tom -Mulligan waiting for him outside, and in spite of his promise, Stevie -has told everything to Tom. And Tom has a wart and offers some wart -blood to write that letter in. But Freckles says another person's blood -would not be fair and honourable. He has a wart of his own, if he wanted -to use wart blood, but wart blood is not to be thought of. What would -a lady think if she found out it was wart blood? It would be almost and -insult, wart blood would; it would be as bad as blood from a corn or -bunion. - -"Well, then," says Stevie, "the truth is that you don't want to write -that letter, anyhow. Last night you talked big about writing that -letter, but this morning you're hunting up excuses for not writing it." - -"I'll write it if I want to write it, and you can't stop me," says -Freckles. "And I won't write it if I don't want to write it, and nobody -of your size can make me." - -"I can too stop you," says Stevie, "if I want to." - -"You don't dast to want to stop me," says Freckles. - -"I do dast," says Stevie. - -"You don't," says Freckles. - -"I do," says Stevie. - -"You're a licked, licked liar--and so's your Aunt Mariar," says -Freckles. - -"I ain't got any Aunt Mariar," says Stevie. - -"You don't dast to have an Aunt Mariar," says Freckles. - -"I do dast," says Stevie. - -Then Tom put a chip on each of their shoulders, and pushed them at each -other, and the chips fell off, and they went down behind the barn and -had it out, and Freckles licked him. Which proves Freckles couldn't be -stopped from writing that note if he wanted to, and he was still so mad -that he wrote it right then and there back of the barn on a leaf torn -out of a notebook Tom Mulligan owned, with his fountain pen, using his -own nose bleed that Stevie had just drawed out of him; and he read out -loud what he wrote. It was: - -_Dear Miss Little Eva: The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is -sweet and so are you. Yours truly. Mr. H. Watson. This is wrote in my -own blood._ - -"Well, now, then," says Stevie, "where's the coffin?" - -"What do you mean, the coffin?" says Freckles. - -"Last night," says Stevie, "you was makin' a lot of brags, but this -morning it looks like you didn't have the sand to act up to them." - -"If you think you've got size enough to make me lay down into a coffin -with that note," says Freckles, "you got another think cornin' to you. -There ain't a kid my size, nor anywhere near my size, in this whole town -can make me lay down into a coffin with that note. And if you think so, -you just try it on!" - -Stevie, he doesn't want to fight any more. But Tom Mulligan says never -mind the casket. Nobody really wants him to lay in a casket anyhow. He -says he is willing to bet a million dollars Freckles doesn't dast to -carry that note to the show grounds and give it to that Little Eva. - -"I dast!" says Freckles. - -"Dastn't!" says Tom. - -"You don't dast to knock this chip off my shoulder," says Freckles. - -"I dast!" says Tom. And Stevie give him a push, and he did it. And they -had it. Freckles got him down and jammed his head into the ground. - -"Now, then," he says, "do I dast to carry that note, or don't I dast -to?" - -"You dast to," says Tom. "Leave me up." - -And that was the way it come about that Freckles had to carry the note, -though not wanting to at all. But he did it. We all went with him over -to the show grounds, Stevie Stevenson and Tom Mulligan and Mutt, Tom's -dog, and me. - -There was a lady sitting out in front of one of the tents on a chair. -She had been washing her hair, and it was spread out to dry over her -shoulders, and she was sewing on a pair of boy's pants. She had on a -pair of those big horn-rimmed glasses, and we could see from her hair, -which had gray in it, that she was quite an old lady, though small. I -heard later that she was all of thirty-five or thirty-six years old. - -The rest of us hung back a little ways, and Freckles went up to her and -took off his hat. - -She laid down her sewing and smiled at him. - -"Well, my little man, what is it?" she said. "Were you looking for -somebody?" - -"Yes, ma'am," says Freckles. He stuttered a little and he was standing -on one foot. - -"For whom?" she asked. - -"For Little Eva," says Freckles. - -The lady stared at him, and then she smiled again. - -"And what do you want with Little Eva, sonny?" she said. - -Freckles, he stands on the other foot a while, and says nothing. And -like as not he would have backed away, but Tom Mulligan yells: "You -don't dast give it to her, Freck!" - -Then Freckles hands her the letter and gulps and says: "A letter for -Miss Little Eva." - -The lady takes it and reads it. And then she reads it again. And then -she calls out: "Jim! Oh, Jim!" - -A man comes out of the tent, and she hands it to him. He reads it, and -his mouth drops open, and a pipe he is smoking falls on to the grass. - -"Jim," says the lady, "someone is making love to your wife!" - -Jim, he reads the letter again, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard -he bends double, and catches the back of the lady's chair. And she -laughs of a sudden and puts her hand in front of her face and laughs -again. And then Jim, he says to Freckles, who has been getting redder -and redder: - -"And who is Mr. H. Watson?" - -"Don't you get it?" says the lady, taking off her glasses to wipe them, -and pointing to Freckles. "This is the boy that owns the dog that played -the bloodhound last night, and _he_ is Mr. H. Watson!" - -And when she took off her glasses like that, we all saw she was the -Little Eva of that show! - -"Mr. H. Watson," says Jim to Freckles, "did you intend matrimony, or -were you trying to flirt?" - -"Quit your kidding him, Jim," says Little Eva, still laughing. "Can't -you see he's hacked nearly to death?" - -"None of your business what I intended!" yells Freckles to Jim. And he -picks up a clod of dirt and nearly hits Jim with it, and runs. And we -all run. But when we had run half a block, we looked back, and nobody -was following us. Jim and Little Eva had busted out laughing again, -and was laughing so hard they was hanging on to each other to keep from -falling down. - -"Good-bye, Mr. H. Watson," yells Jim. "Is it really your own blood?" - -And then began a time of disgrace for Freckles and me such as I never -hope to live through again. For the next thing those two boys that had -been his friends was both dancing round him laughing and calling him Mr. -H. Watson; and by the time we got down to the part of Main Street where -the stores are, every boy and every dog in town was dancing around -Freckles and hearing all about it and yelling, "H. Watson! Mr. H. -Watson! Is it your own blood? Is it your own blood, Mr. H. Watson?" - -Freckles and I did the best we could, fighting all that was our size -and some bigger; but after a couple of hours it got so that most any one -could lick us. Kids that was afraid to stand up to him the day before -could lick him easy, by now, and dogs I had always despised even to -argue with began to get my number. All you could hear, on every side, -was: "Is it your _own_ blood, Mr. Watson?" - -And at noon we went home, but Freckles didn't go into the house for -dinner at all. Instead, he went out to the barn and laid down in the -hay, and I crawled in there with him. And he cried and cried and choked -and choked. I felt sorry for him, and crawled up and licked his face. -But he took me by the scruff of the neck and slung me out of the haymow. -When I crawled back again, he kicked me in the ribs, but he had on -tennis shoes and it didn't hurt much, and anyhow I forgave him. And I -went and crawled back to where he was and nuzzled my head up under his -armpit. And then he cried harder and hugged me and said I was the best -dog in the world and the only friend he ever had. - -And then I licked his face again and he let me and we both felt better, -and pretty soon he went to sleep there and slept for an hour or so, with -his head on my ribs, and I lay there quiet so as not to wake him. Even -when a flea got me, I let that flea bite and didn't scratch for fear -of waking him. But after a while that flea got tired of me, and crawled -over on to Freckles, and he waked natural. And when he waked, he was -hungry, but he didn't want to go into the house for fear the story had -spread to the grown-ups and he would have to answer questions. So he -found a couple of raw turnips, and ate them, and a couple of apples, -only they were green, and he milked the cow a little into an old tin cup -and drank that. And in a little while he begins to have pains, and he -thinks he is getting heart's disease and is really going to die, but he -says to himself out loud if he dies now he won't get any credit for it, -and he would have enjoyed it more if he had died while he still thought -Little Eva was young and beautiful and probably going to marry him in -the end. - -But after awhile it seems turning from heart's disease into some kind of -stomach trouble; so he drinks some stuff out of a bottle that was left -in the barn last spring when Bessie, the old roan mare, had the colic, -and whether it is heart's disease or stomach trouble, that stuff cures -him. And him and me drift along downtown again to see if maybe the kids -have sort of begun to forget about it a little. - -But they hadn't. It had even spread to some of the grown-ups. We went -into Freckles's father's drug store, and Mr. Watson told Freckles to -step around to the post office and ask for his mail. And the clerk in -the post office when we come in, looks at Freckles very solemn and says: - -"Ah, here is Mr. H. Watson, after a letter! Will you have a letter -written in blood?" - -So Freckles told his dad there wasn't any mail, and we sneaked along -home again. That night at supper I was lying on the porch just outside -the dining room and the doors were open, and I heard Freckles's dad say: - -"Harold, would you like to go to the show to-night?" - -"No, Pa," says Freckles. - -His mother says that is funny; it is the first time she ever heard him -refuse to go to a show of any kind. And his father asks him if anything -special has happened that makes him want to stay away from this -particular show. I guess when his father says that, Freckles thinks his -father is wise, too, so he says he has changed his mind and will go to -the show after all. He didn't want to start any argument. - -So him and me sneaks down to the show grounds again. It is getting dark, -but too early for the show, and every kid we know is hanging around -outside. And what Freckles has had to stand for in the way of kidding -beforehand is nothing to what comes now. For they all gets around him in -a ring and shouts: "Here is the bridegroom! Here is Mr. H. Watson come -to get married to Little Eva! And the wedding invitations are wrote in -his own blood! His own blood! His own blood!" - -And the grown-ups beginning to go into the show all tell each other what -the kids are getting at, and we hear them laughing to each other about -it. Him and me was about the two downest-tail-and-head-hanging-est -persons you ever saw. But we stayed. There wasn't no place else to go, -except home, and we didn't want to go home and be asked again if there -was any special reason for staying away from that particular show. - -And right in the midst of all the yelling and jostling around, a kid -about Freckles's size comes out of the show tent and walks over to the -bunch and says: - -"Now, then, what's all this yelling about Little Eva for?" - -All the kids shut up, and this show kid says to Freckles: - -"Was they yelling bridegroom at _you?_" - -Freckles, he was down, but he wasn't going to let any out-of-town boy -get away with anything, either. All our own gang had him licked and -disgraced, and he knew it; but this was a stranger, and so he spunked -up. - -"S'pose they was yelling bridegroom at me," he says. "Ain't they got a -right to yell bridegroom at me if they want to? This is a free country." - -"You won't be yelled bridegroom at if I say you won't," says the show -kid. - -"I'll be yelled bridegroom at for all of you," says Freckles. "What's it -to you?" - -"You won't be yelled bridegroom at about my mother," saws the show kid. - -"Who's being yelled bridegroom at about your mother?" says Freckles. -"I'm being yelled at about Little Eva." - -"Well, then," says this kid, "Little Eva is my mother, and you got to -stop being yelled at about her." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "you just stop me being yelled at if you -think you're big enough." - -"I could lick two your size," says the show kid. "But I won't fight -here. I won't fight in front of this crowd. If I was to fight here, -your crowd might jump into me, too, and I would maybe have to use brass -knucks, and if I was to use brass knucks, I would likely kill someone -and be arrested for it. I'll fight in private like a duel, as gentlemen -ought to." - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "if any one was to use brass knucks on me, -I would have to use brass knucks on them, and I won't fight any one that -uses brass knucks in private." - -"Well, then," says the show kid, "my brass knucks is in my trunk in the -tent, and you don't dast to follow me and fight with bare fists." - -"My brass knucks is at home," says Freckles, which was the first I knew -he ever had any, "and I do dast." So each one searched the other for -brass knucks, and they went off together, me following. The fight was to -be under the bridge over the crick down by the school-house on the edge -of the woods. But when they got down there, the strip of sand by the -side of the crick was in shadow. So they went on top of the bridge, to -fight in the moonlight. But the moonlight was so bright they were afraid -they would be seen by some farmer coming into town and maybe told on -and arrested. So they sat down on the edge of the bridge with their feet -hanging over and talked about where they had better fight to be private, -as gentlemen should. And they got to talking of other things. And pretty -soon they began to kind of like each other, and Freckles says: - -"What's your name?" - -"Percy," says the show kid. "But you better not call me that. I'd fight -if I was called that out of the family. Call me Spike. What's your -name?" - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "1 don't like mine either; mine is Harold. -But call me Freckles." - -Spike says he wished he had more freckles himself. But he don't get much -chance for freckles, he says; his mother takes such awful good care of -all the complexions in their family. - -"Well, then," says Freckles, "I think your mother is an awful nice -lady." - -Spike, all of a sudden, bursts out crying then and says how would -Freckles like it if people wrote notes to _his_ mother and was yelled at -about her? And Freckles says how would _he_ like it if _he_ was the one -was yelled at, and he never had any idea the lady was grown up and had a -family, and he got to sniffling some himself. - -"Spike," he says, "you tell your mother I take it all back. You tell her -I was in love with her till I seen her plain off the stage, and since I -have seen her and her family plain, I don't care two cents for her. And -I'll write her an apology for falling into love with her." - -Which he done it, then and there, in the moonlight, jabbing his fountain -pen into his wart, and it read: - -_Dear Little Eva. Since I seen your husband and son I decided not to say -anything about matrimony, and beg your pardon for it. This is wrote in -my blood and sets you free to fall in love with who you please. You -are older and look different from what I expected, and so let us forget -bygones._ - -_Yours truly,_ - -_H. Watson._ - -"Spike," says Freckles, when they were walking back to town together, -chewing licorice and pretending it was tobacco, "do you really have some -brass knucks?" - -"No," says Spike. "Do you, Freckles?" - -"No," says Freckles. - -And they went back to the tent together and asked the gang if they -wanted any of their game, and nobody did, and the disgrace lifted. - -And I felt so good about that and the end of the love-affair and -everything, that right then and there I hunted up that Burning Deck dog -and give him the licking of his life, which I had never been able to do -before. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER *** - -***** This file should be named 51917.txt or 51917.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/1/51917/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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- The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revolt of the Oyster, by Don Marquis
-
-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: The Revolt of the Oyster
-
-Author: Don Marquis
-
-Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51917]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
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-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER ***
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-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
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-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Don Marquis
- </h2>
- <h3>
- Garden City, New York
- </h3>
- <h3>
- Doubleday, Page and Company
- </h3>
- <h4>
- 1922
- </h4>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> “IF WE COULD ONLY SEE” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACCURSED HAT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> TOO AMERICAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE SADDEST MAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog) </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> BILL PATTERSON </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog) </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog)
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs) </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE REVOLT OF THE OYSTER
- </h2>
- <p>
- “<i>Our remote ancestor was probably arboreal.”</i>—Eminent
- scientist.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>rom his hut in the
- tree-top Probably Arboreal looked lazily down a broad vista, still strewn
- with fallen timber as the result of a whirlwind that had once played havoc
- in that part of the forest, toward the sea. Beyond the beach of hard white
- sand the water lay blue and vast and scarcely ruffled by the light morning
- wind. All the world and his wife were out fishing this fine day. Probably
- Arboreal could see dozens of people from where he crouched, splashing in
- the water or moving about the beach; and even hear their cries borne
- faintly to him on the breeze. They fished, for the most part, with their
- hands; and when one caught a fish it was his custom to eat it where he
- caught it, standing in the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- In Probably Arboreal's circle, one often bathed and breakfasted
- simultaneously; if a shark or saurian were too quick for one, one
- sometimes was breakfasted upon as one bathed.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the hut next to Probably Arboreal, his neighbour, Slightly Simian, was
- having an argument with Mrs. Slightly, as usual. And, as usual, it
- concerned the proper manner of bringing up the children. Probably listened
- with the bored distaste of a bachelor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I <i>will</i> slap his feet every time he picks things up with them!”
- screamed Slightly Simian's wife, an accredited shrew, in her shrill
- falsetto..
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's <i>natural</i> for a child to use his feet that way,” insisted the
- good-natured Slightly, “and I don't intend to have the boy punished for
- what's natural.” Probably Arboreal grinned; he could fancy the expression
- on Old Sim's face as his friend made this characteristically plebeian
- plea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can understand once for all, Slightly,” said that gentleman's wife in
- a tone of finality, “that I intend to supervise the bringing-up of these
- children. Just because your people had neither birth nor breeding nor
- manners——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. S.!” broke in Slightly, with a warning in his voice. “Don't you work
- around to anything caudal, now, Mrs. S.! Or there'll be trouble. You get
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- On one occasion Mrs. Slightly had twitted her spouse with the fact that
- his grandfather had a tail five inches long; she had never done so again.
- Slightly Simian himself, in his moments of excitement, picked things up
- with his feet, but like many other men of humble origin who have become
- personages in their maturity, he did not relish having such faults
- commented upon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor old Sim,” mused Probably Arboreal, as he slid down the tree and
- ambled toward the beach, to be out of range of the family quarrel. “She
- married him for his property, and now she's sore on him because there
- isn't more of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasant effect of the quarrel, Probably
- found his mind dwelling upon matrimony that morning. A girl with bright
- red hair, into which she had tastefully braided a number of green parrot
- feathers, hit him coquettishly between the shoulder blades with a handful
- of wet sand and gravel as he went into the water. Ordinarily he would
- either have taken no notice at all of her, or else would have broken her
- wrist in a slow, dignified, manly sort of way. But this morning he grabbed
- her tenderly by the hair and sentimentally ducked her. When she was nearly
- drowned he released her. She came out of the water squealing with rage
- like a wild-cat and bit him on the shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Parrot Feathers,” he said to her, with an unwonted softness in his eyes,
- as he clutched her by the throat and squeezed, “beware how you trifle with
- a man's affections—some day I may take you seriously!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He let the girl squirm loose, and she scrambled out upon the beach and
- threw shells and jagged pieces of flint at him, with an affectation of
- coyness. He chased her, caught her by the hair again, and scored the wet
- skin on her arms with a sharp stone, until she screamed with the pain, and
- as he did it he hummed an old love tune, for to-day there was an April
- gladness in his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably! Probably Arboreal!” He spun around to face the girl's father,
- Crooked Nose, who was contentedly munching a mullet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably,” said Crooked Nose, “you are flirting with my daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father!” breathed the girl, ashamed of her parent's tactlessness. “How
- can you say that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want to know,” said Crooked Nose, as sternly as a man can who is
- masticating mullet, “whether your intentions are serious and honourable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, father!” said Parrot Feathers again. And putting her hands in front
- of her face to hide her blushes she ran off. Nevertheless, she paused when
- a dozen feet away and threw a piece of drift-wood at Probably Arboreal. It
- hit him on the shin, and as he rubbed the spot, watching her disappear
- into the forest, he murmured aloud, “Now, I wonder what she means by
- that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Means,” said Crooked Nose. “Don't be an ass, Probably! Don't pretend to
- <i>me</i> you don't know what the child means. You made her love you. You
- have exercised your arts of fascination on an innocent young girl, and now
- you have the nerve to wonder what she means. What'll you give me for her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here, Crooked Nose,” said Probably, “don't bluster with me.” His
- finer sensibilities were outraged. He did not intend to be <i>coerced</i>
- into matrimony by any father, even though he were pleased with that
- father's daughter. “I'm not buying any wives to-day, Crooked Nose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have hurt her market value,” said Crooked Nose, dropping his
- domineering air, and affecting a willingness to reason. “Those marks on
- her arms will not come off for weeks. And what man wants to marry a
- scarred-up woman unless he has made the scars himself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crooked Nose,” said Probably Arboreal, angry at the whole world because
- what might have been a youthful romance had been given such a sordid turn
- by this disgusting father, “if you don't go away I will scar every
- daughter you've got in your part of the woods. Do you get me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish you'd look them over,” said Crooked Nose. “You might do worse than
- marry all of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll marry none of them!” cried Probably, in a rage, and turned to go
- into the sea again.
- </p>
- <p>
- A heavy boulder hurtled past his head. He whirled about and discovered
- Crooked Nose in the act of recovering his balance after having flung it.
- He caught the old man half way between the beach and the edge of the
- forest. The clan, including Crooked Nose's four daughters, gathered round
- in a ring to watch the fight.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not much of a combat. When it was over, and the girls took hold of
- what remained of their late parent to drag him into the woods, Probably
- Arboreal stepped up to Parrot Feathers and laid his hand upon her arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Feathers,” he said, “now that there can be no question of coercion, will
- you and your sisters marry me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned toward him with a sobered face. Grief had turned her from a
- girl into a woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably,” she said, “you are only making this offer out of generosity.
- It is not love that prompts it. I cannot accept. As for my sisters, they
- must speak for themselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are angry with me, Feathers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl turned sadly away. Probably watched the funeral cortège winding
- into the woods, and then went moodily back to the ocean. Now that she had
- refused him, he desired her above all things. But how to win her? He saw
- clearly that it could be no question of brute force. It had gone beyond
- that. If he used force with her, it must infallibly remind her of the
- unfortunate affair with her father. Some heroic action might attract her
- to him again. Probably resolved to be a hero at the very earliest
- opportunity.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the meantime he would breakfast. Breakfast had already been long
- delayed; and it was as true then, far back in the dim dawn of time, as it
- is now, that he who does not breakfast at some time during the day must go
- hungry to bed at night. Once more Probably Arboreal stepped into the ocean—stepped
- in without any premonition that he was to be a hero indeed; that he was
- chosen by Fate, by Destiny, by the Presiding Genius of this planet, by
- whatever force or intelligence you will, to champion the cause of all
- Mankind in a crucial struggle for human supremacy.
- </p>
- <p>
- He waded into the water up to his waist, and bent forward with his arms
- beneath the surface, patiently waiting. It was thus that our remote
- ancestors fished. Fish ran larger in those days, as a rule. In the deeper
- waters they were monstrous. The smaller fish therefore sought the shallows
- where the big ones, greedy cannibals, could not follow them. A man seldom
- stood in the sea as Probably Arboreal was doing more than ten minutes
- without a fish brushing against him either accidentally or because the
- fish thought the man was something good to eat. As soon as a fish touched
- him, the man would grab for it. If he were clumsy and missed too many
- fish, he starved to death. Experts survived because they <i>were</i>
- expert; by a natural process of weeding out the awkward it had come about
- that men were marvellously adept. A bear who stands by the edge of a river
- watching for salmon at the time of the year when they rim up stream to
- spawn, and scoops them from the water with a deft twitch of his paw, was
- not more quick or skillful than Probably Arboreal.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly he pitched forward, struggling; he gave a gurgling shout, and his
- head disappeared beneath the water.
- </p>
- <p>
- When it came up again, he twisted toward the shore, with lashing arms and
- something like panic on his face, and shouted:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he cried. “Something has me by the foot!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Twenty or thirty men and women who heard the cry stopped fishing and
- straightened up to look at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Help! Help!” he shouted again. “It is pulling me out to sea!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A knock-kneed old veteran, with long intelligent-looking mobile toes,
- broke from the surf and scurried to the safety of the beach, raising the
- cry:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A god! A god! A water-god has caught Probably Arboreal!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “More likely a devil!” cried Slightly Simian, who had followed Probably to
- the water.
- </p>
- <p>
- And all his neighbours plunged to land and left Probably Arboreal to his
- fate, whatever his fate was to be. But since spectacles are always
- interesting, they sat down comfortably on the beach to see how long it
- would be before Probably Arboreal disappeared. Gods and devils, sharks and
- octopi, were forever grabbing one of their number and making off to deep
- water with him to devour him at their leisure. If the thing that dragged
- the man were seen, if it showed itself to be a shark or an octopus, a
- shark or an octopus it was; if it were unseen, it got the credit of being
- a god or a devil.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Help me!” begged Probably Arboreal, who was now holding his own, although
- he was not able to pull himself into shallower water. “It is not a god or
- a devil. It doesn't feel like one. And it isn't a shark, because it hasn't
- any teeth. It is an animal like a cleft stick, and my foot is in the
- cleft.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But they did not help him. Instead, Big Mouth, a seer and <i>vers libre</i>
- poet of the day, smitten suddenly with an idea, raised a chant, and
- presently all the others joined in. The chant went like this:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Probably, he killed Crooked Nose,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He killed him with his fists.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And Crooked Nose, he sent his ghost to sea
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To catch his slayer by the foot!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- slayer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drown, drown, drown his slayer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- slayer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drown his slayer in the seal”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a liar, Big Mouth!” spluttered Probably Arboreal, hopping on one
- foot and thrashing the water with his arms. “It is not a ghost; it is an
- animal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the chant kept up, growing louder and louder:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “The ghost of Crooked Nose will drown his
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- slayer!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drown, drown, drown his slayer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drown his slayer in the sea!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Out of the woods came running more and more people at the noise of the
- chant. And as they caught what was going on, they took up the burden of
- it, until hundreds and thousands of them were singing it.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, with a mighty turn and struggle, Probably Arboreal went under again,
- as to his head and body; his feet for an instant swished into the air, and
- everyone but Probably Arboreal himself saw what was hanging on to one of
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was neither ghost, shark, god, nor devil. It was a monstrous oyster; a
- bull oyster, evidently. All oysters were much larger in those days than
- they are now, but this oyster was a giant, a mastodon, a mammoth among
- oysters, even for those days.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is an oyster, an oyster, an oyster!” cried the crowd, as Probably
- Arboreal's head and shoulders came out of the water again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Big Mouth, the poet, naturally chagrined, and hating to yield up his
- dramatic idea, tried to raise another chant:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “The ghost of Crooked Nose went into an
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- oyster,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The oyster caught his slayer by the foot
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To drown, drown, drown him in the sea!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But it didn't work. The world had seen that oyster, and had recognized it
- for an oyster.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!” cried the crowd sternly at Big Mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bard tried to persevere, but Slightly Simian, feeling the crowd with
- him, advanced menacingly and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here, Big Mouth, we know a ghost when we see one, and we know an
- oyster! Yon animal is an oyster! You <i>sing</i> that it is an oyster, or
- shut up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Ghost, ghost, ghost,</i>” chanted Big Mouth, tentatively. But he got
- no farther. Slightly Simian killed him with a club, and the matter was
- settled. Literary criticism was direct, straightforward, and effective in
- those days.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, oh, ye gods of the water, <i>what</i> an oyster!” cried Mrs.
- Slightly Simian.
- </p>
- <p>
- And as the thought took them all, a silence fell over the multitude. They
- looked at the struggling man in a new community of idea. Oysters they had
- seen before, but never an oyster like this. Oysters they knew not as food;
- but they had always regarded them as rather ineffectual and harmless
- creatures. Yet this bold oyster was actually giving battle, and on equal
- terms, to a man! Were oysters henceforth to be added to the number of
- man's enemies? Were oysters about to attempt to conquer mankind? This
- oyster, was he the champion of the sea, sent up out of its depths, to
- grapple with mankind for supremacy?
- </p>
- <p>
- Dimly, vaguely, as they watched the man attempt to pull the oyster ashore,
- and the oyster attempt to pull the man out to sea, some sense of the
- importance of this struggle was felt by mankind. Over forest, beach, and
- ocean hung the sense of momentous things. A haze passed across the face of
- the bright morning sun; the breeze died down; it was as if all nature held
- her breath at this struggle. And if mankind upon the land was interested,
- the sea was no less concerned. For, of sudden, and as if by preconcerted
- signal, a hundred thousand oysters poked their heads above the surface of
- the waters and turned their eyes—they had small fiery opalescent
- eyes in those days—upon the combat.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this appearance, mankind drew back with a gasp, but no word was
- uttered. The visible universe, perturbed earth and bending heavens alike,
- was tense and dumb. On their part, the oysters made no attempt to go to
- the assistance of their champion. Nor did mankind leap to the rescue of
- Probably Arboreal. Tacitly, each side, in a spirit of fair play, agreed
- not to interfere; agreed to leave the combat to the champions; agreed to
- abide by the issue.
- </p>
- <p>
- But while they were stirred and held by the sense of tremendous things
- impending, neither men nor oysters could be expected to understand
- definitely what almost infinite things depended upon this battle. There
- were no Darwins then. Evolution had not yet evolved the individual able to
- catch her at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she was on her way. This very struggle was one of the crucial moments
- in the history of evolution. There have always been these critical periods
- when the two highest species in the world were about equal in
- intelligence, and it was touch and go as to which would survive and carry
- on the torch, and which species would lose the lead and become
- subservient. There have always been exact instants when the spirit of
- progress hesitated as between the forms of life, doubtful as to which one
- to make its representative.
- </p>
- <p>
- Briefly, if the oyster conquered the man, more and more oysters,
- emboldened by this success, would prey upon men. Man, in the course of a
- few hundred thousand years, would become the creature of the oyster; the
- oyster's slave and food. Then the highest type of life on the planet would
- dwell in the sea. The civilization which was not yet would be a marine
- growth when it did come; the intellectual and spiritual and physical
- supremacy held by the biped would pass over to the bivalve.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thought could not frame this concept then; neither shellfish nor
- tree-dweller uttered it. But both the species felt it; they watched
- Probably Arboreal and the oyster with a strangling emotion, with a
- quivering intentness, that was none the less poignant because there was no
- Huxley or Spencer present to interpret it for them; they thrilled and
- sweat and shivered with the shaken universe, and the red sun through its
- haze peered down unwinking like the vast bloodshot eye of life.
- </p>
- <p>
- An hour had passed by in silence except for the sound of the battle, more
- and more men and more and more oysters had gathered about the scene of the
- struggle; the strain was telling on both champions. Probably Arboreal had
- succeeded in dragging the beast some ten feet nearer the shore, but the
- exertion had told upon him; he was growing tired; he was breathing with
- difficulty; he had swallowed a great deal of salt water. He too was dimly
- conscious of the importance of this frightful combat; he felt himself the
- representative of the human race. He was desperate but cool; he saved his
- breath; he opposed to the brute force of the oyster the cunning of a man.
- But he was growing weaker; he felt it.
- </p>
- <p>
- If only those for whom he was fighting would fling him some word of
- encouragement! He was too proud to ask it, but he felt bitterly that he
- was not supported, for he could not realize what emotion had smitten dumb
- his fellow men. He had got to the place where a word of spiritual comfort
- and encouragement would have meant as much as fifty pounds of weight in
- his favour.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had, in fact, arrived at the Psychological Moment. There were no
- professing psychologists then; but there was psychology; and it worked
- itself up into moments even as it does to-day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Probably Arboreal's head went under the water, tears and salt ocean
- mingled nauseatingly in his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am lost,” he gurgled.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at that instant a shout went up—the shrill, high cry of a woman.
- Even in his agony he recognized that voice—the voice of Parrot
- Feathers! With a splendid rally he turned his face toward the shore.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was struggling through the crowd, fighting her way to the front rank
- with the fury of a wildcat. She had just buried her father, and the earth
- was still dark and damp upon her hands, but the magnificent creature had
- only one thought now. She thought only of her lover, her heroic lover; in
- her nobility of soul she had been able to rise above the pettiness of
- spirit which another woman might have felt; she knew no pique or spite.
- Her lover was in trouble, and her place was nigh him; so she flung a false
- maidenly modesty to the winds and acknowledged him and cheered him on,
- careless of what the assembled world might think.
- </p>
- <p>
- She arrived at the Psychological Moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably! Probably!” she cried. “Don't give up! Don't give up! For my
- sake!”
- </p>
- <p>
- For her sake! The words were like fire in the veins of the struggling
- hero. He made another bursting effort, and gained a yard. But the rally
- had weakened him; the next instant his head went under the water once
- more. Would it ever appear again? There was a long, long moment, while all
- mankind strangled and gasped in sympathetic unison, and then our hero's
- dripping head did emerge. It had hit a stone under water, and it was
- bleeding, but it emerged. One eye was nearly closed. 4 +
- </p>
- <p>
- “Watch him! Watch him!” shouted Parrot Feathers. “Don't let him do that
- again! When he has you under water he whacks your eye with his tail. He's
- trying to blind you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, indeed, these seemed to be the desperate oyster's tactics. If he
- could once destroy our hero's sight, the end would soon come.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably—do you hear me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded his head; he was beyond speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take a long breath and dive! Do you get me? Dive! Dive at your own feet!
- Grab your feet in your hands and roll under water in a bunch! Roll toward
- the beach!”'
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a desperate manouvre, especially for a man who had already been
- under water so much that morning. But the situation was critical and
- called for the taking of big chances. It would either succeed—or
- fail. And death was no surer if it failed than if he waited. Probably
- Arboreal ceased to think; he yielded up his reasoning powers to the noble
- and courageous woman on the sand; he dived and grabbed his feet and
- rolled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Again! Again!” she cried. “Another long breath and roll again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her bosom heaved, as if she were actually breathing for him. To Probably
- Arboreal, now all but drowned, and almost impervious to feeling, it also
- seemed as if he were breathing with her lungs; and yet he hardly dared to
- dive and roll again. He struggled in the water and stared at her stupidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She sent her unusual and electric personality thrilling into him across
- the intervening distance; she held him with her eyes, and filled him with
- her spirit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Roll!” she commanded. “Probably! Roll!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And under the lash of her courage, he rolled again. Three more times he
- rolled... and then... unconscious, but still breathing, he was in her
- arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he reached the land half a million oysters sank into the sea in the
- silence of defeat and despair, while from the beaches rose a mighty shout.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sun, as if it gestured, flung the mists from its face, and beamed
- benignly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back! Back! Give him air!” cried Parrot Feathers, as she addressed
- herself to the task of removing the oyster from his foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The giant beast was dying, and its jaws were locked in the rigour of its
- suffering. There was no way to remove it gently. Parrot Feathers laid her
- unconscious hero's foot upon one rock, and broke the oyster loose with
- another.
- </p>
- <p>
- Incidentally she smashed Probably Arboreal's toe.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat up in pained surprise. Unthinkingly, as you or I would put a hurt
- finger into our mouths, he put his crushed toe into his mouth. At that
- period of man's history the trick was not difficult. And then——
- </p>
- <p>
- A beatific smile spread over his face!
- </p>
- <p>
- Man had tasted the oyster!
- </p>
- <p>
- In half an hour, mankind was plunging into the waves searching for
- oysters. The oyster's doom was sealed. His monstrous pretension that he
- belonged in the van of evolutionary progress was killed forever. He had
- been tasted, and found food. He would never again battle for supremacy.
- Meekly he yielded to his fate. He is food to this day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Parrot Feathers and Probably Arboreal were married after breakfast. On the
- toes of their first child were ten cunning, diminutive oyster shells.
- Mankind, up to that time, had had sharp toenails like the claws of birds.
- But the flat, shell-like toenails, the symbols of man's triumph over, and
- trampling down of, the oyster were inherited from the children of this
- happy couple.
- </p>
- <p>
- They persist to this day.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- “IF WE COULD ONLY SEE”
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>unch finished, Mr.
- Ferdinand Wimple, the poet, sullenly removed his coat and sulkily carried
- the dishes to the kitchen sink. He swore in a melodious murmur, as a cat
- purrs, as he turned the hot water on to the plates, and he splashed
- profanely with a wet dishcloth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going to do the dishes to-day, Ferd,” announced his wife, pleasantly
- enough. She was a not unpleasant-looking woman; she gave the impression
- that she might, indeed, be a distinctly pleasant-looking woman, if she
- could avoid seeming hurried. She would have been a pretty woman, in fact,
- if she had been able to give the time to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- When she said that she would do the dishes herself, Mr. Wimple immediately
- let the dishcloth drop without another word, profane or otherwise, and
- began to dry his hands, preparatory to putting on his coat again. But she
- continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to do the twins' wash.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” cried Mr. Wimple, outraged. He ran one of his plump hands through
- his thick tawny hair and stared at his wife with latent hatred in his
- brown eyes... those eyes of which so many women had remarked: “Aren't Mr.
- Wimple's eyes wonderful; just simply <i>wonderful!</i> So magnetic, if you
- get what I mean!” Mr. Wimple's head, by many of his female admirers, was
- spoken of as “leonine.” His detractors—for who has them not?—dwelt
- rather upon the physical reminder of Mr.'Wimple, which was more suggestive
- of the ox.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I said I wanted you to do the twins' wash for me,” repeated Mrs. Wimple,
- awed neither by the lion's visage nor the bovine torso. Mrs. Wimple's own
- hair was red; and in a quietly red-haired sort of way she looked as if she
- expected her words to be heeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “H——!” said the poet, in a round baritone which enriched the
- ear as if a harpist had plucked the lovely string of G. “H——!”
- But there was more music than resolution in the sound. It floated somewhat
- tentatively upon the air. Mr. Wimple was not in revolt. He was wondering
- if he had the courage to revolt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wimple lifted the cover of the laundry tub, which stood beside the
- sink, threw in the babies' “things,” turned on the hot water, and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better shave some laundry soap and throw it in, Ferd.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens!” declared Mr. Wimple. “To expect a man of my temperament to do
- that!” But still he did not say that he would not do it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Someone has to do it,” contributed his wife.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never kicked on the dishes, Nell,” said Mr. Wimple. “But this, <i>this</i>
- is too much!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been doing it for ten days, ever since the maid left. I'm feeling
- rotten to-day, and you can take a turn at it, Ferd. My back hurts.” Still
- Mrs. Wimple was not unpleasant; but she was obviously determined.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your back!” sang Mr. Wimple, the minstrel, and shook his mane. “Your <i>back</i>
- hurts you! My <i>soul</i> hurts <i>me!</i> How could I go direct from that—that
- damnable occupation—that most repulsive of domestic occupations—that
- bourgeois occupation—to Mrs. Watson's tea this afternoon and deliver
- my message?”
- </p>
- <p>
- A shimmer of heat (perhaps from her hair) suddenly dried up whatever dew
- of pleasantness remained in Mrs. Wimple's manner. “They're just as much
- your twins as they are mine,” she began... but just then one of them
- cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- A fraction of a second later the other one cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wimple hurried from the kitchen and reached the living room in time
- to prevent mayhem. The twins, aged one year, were painfully entangled with
- one another on the floor. The twin Ronald had conceived the idea that
- perhaps the twin Dugald's thumb was edible, and was testing five or six of
- his newly acquired teeth upon it. Childe Dugald had been inspired by his
- daemon with the notion that one of Childe Ronald's ears might be
- detachable, and was endeavouring to detach it. The situation was but too
- evidently distressing to both of them, but neither seemed capable of the
- mental initiative necessary to end it. Even when little Ronald opened his
- mouth to scream, little Dugald did not remove the thumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wimple unscrambled them, wiped their noses, gave them rattles, rubber
- dolls, and goats to wreak themselves upon, and returned to the kitchen
- thinking (for she did not lack her humorous gleams) that the situation in
- the living room bore a certain resemblance to the situation in the
- kitchen. She and Ferdinand bit and scratched figuratively, but they had
- not the initiative to break loose from one another.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Wimple was shaving soap into the laundry tub, but he stopped when she
- entered and sang at her: “And <i>why</i> did the maid leave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know why she left, Ferd.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She left,” chanted Ferdinand, poking the twins' clothing viciously with a
- wooden paddle, “because...” But what Mr. Wimple said, and the way he said
- it, falls naturally into the freer sort of verse:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “She left [sang Mr. Wimple]
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Because her discontent...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Her individual discontent,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Which is a part of the current general discontent
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of all the labouring classes...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Was constantly aggravated
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- By your jarring personality,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Mrs. Wimple!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There is no harmony in this house,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Mrs. Wimple;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- No harmony!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wimple replied in sordid prose:
- </p>
- <p>
- “She left because she was offered more money elsewhere, and we couldn't
- afford to meet the difference.” Something like a sob vibrated through Mr.
- Wimple's opulent voice as he rejoined:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nellie, that is a blow that I did not look for! You have stabbed me with
- a poisoned weapon! Yes, Nellie, I <i>am</i> poor! So was Edgar Poe. What
- the world calls poor! I shall, in all likelihood, never be rich... what
- the world calls rich. But I have my art! I have my ideals! I have my inner
- life! I have my dreams! Poor? Poor? Yes, Nell! Poor! So was Robert Burns!
- I am poor! I make no compromise with the mob. Nor shall I ever debase my
- gift for money. No! Such as I am, I shall bear the torch that has been
- intrusted to me till I fall fainting at the goal! I have a message. To me
- it is precious stuff, and I shall not alloy it with the dross called gold.
- Poor? Yes, Nell! And you have the heart to cast it in my teeth! You,
- Nellie! You, from whom I once expected sympathy and understanding. You,
- whom I chose from all the world, and took into my life because I fancied
- that you, too, saw the vision! Yes, Elinor, I dreamed <i>that</i> once!”
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r. Wimple achieved
- pathos... almost tragedy. To a trivial mind, however, the effect might
- have been somewhat spoiled by the fact that in his fervour he gesticulated
- wildly with the wooden paddle in one hand and an undergarment belonging to
- Ronald in the other. The truly sensitive soul would have seen these things
- as emphasizing his pathos.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wimple, when Mr. Wimple became lyric in his utterance, often had the
- perverse impulse to answer him in a slangy vernacular which, if not
- actually coarse, was not, on the other hand, the dialect of the aesthete.
- For some months now, she had noticed, whenever Ferdinand took out his soul
- and petted it verbally, she had had the desire to lacerate it with uncouth
- parts of speech. Ordinarily she frowned on slang; but when Ferdinand's
- soul leaped into the arena she found slang a weapon strangely facile to
- her clutch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coming down to brass tacks on this money thing, Ferdy,” said Mrs. Wimple,
- “you're not the downy peach you picture in the ads. I'll tell the world
- you're not! You kid yourself, Ferdy. Some of your bloom has been removed,
- Ferdy. Don't go so far upstage when you speak to me about the dross the
- world calls gold. The reason we can't afford a maid now is because you got
- swell-headed and kicked over that perfectly good magazine job you used to
- have. You thought you were going to get more limelight and more money on
- the lecture platform. But you've been a flivver in the big time. Your
- message sounds better to a flock of women in somebody's sitting room full
- of shaded candles and samovars, with firelight on the antique junk, than
- it does in Carnegie Hall. You've got the voice for the big spaces all
- right, but the multitude doesn't get any loaves and fishes from you. Punk
- sticks and <i>nuances</i> —the <i>intime</i> stuff—that's your
- speed, Ferdy. I don't want to put any useless dents into your bean, but
- that message of yours has been hinted at by other messengers. 1 stick
- around home here and take care of the kids, and I've never let out a yell
- before. And you trot around to your soul fights and tea fests and feed
- your message to a bunch of dolled-up dames that don't even know you have a
- wife. I'm not jealous... you couldn't drag me into one of those perfumed
- literary dives by the hair ... I got fed up with that stuff years ago. But
- as long as we're without a maid because you won't stick to a steady job,
- you'll do your share of the rough stuff around the house. I'll say you
- will! You used to be a good sport about that sort of thing, Ferdy, but it
- looks to me as if you were getting spoiled rotten. You've had a rush of
- soul to the mouth, Ferdy. Those talcum-powder seances of yours have gone
- to your head. You take those orgies of refinement too seriously. You begin
- to look to me like you had a streak of yellow in you, Ferdy... and if I
- ever see it so plain I'm sure of it, I'll leave you flat. I'll quit you,
- Ferdy, twins and all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quit, then!” cried Mr. Wimple.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the harplike voice burst into song again, an offering rich with
- rage:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Woman!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- So help me all the gods,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I'm through!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Twins or no twins,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Elinor Wimple,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I'm through!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- By all the gods,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I'll never wash another dish,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Nor yet another set of underwear!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mr. Wimple, in his heat, brought down the wooden paddle upon the pile
- of dishes in the sink, in front of his wife. The crash of the broken china
- seemed to augment his rage, rather than relieve it, and he raised the
- paddle for a second blow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ferd!” cried his wife, and caught at the stick.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Wimple, the aesthete, grabbed her by the arm and strove to loosen her
- grasp upon the paddle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're bruising my arm!” she cried. But she did not release the stick.
- Neither did Ferdinand release her wrist. Perhaps he twisted it all the
- harder because she struggled, and was not conscious that he was doing
- so... perhaps he twisted it harder quite consciously. At any rate, she
- suddenly swung upon him, with her free hand, and slapped him across the
- face with her wet dishcloth.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that they started apart, both more than a little appalled to realize
- that they had been engaged in something resembling a fight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without another word the bird of song withdrew to smooth his ruffled
- plumage. He dressed himself carefully, and left the apartment without
- speaking to his wife again. He felt that he had not had altogether the
- best of the argument. There was no taste of soap in his mouth, for he had
- washed his lips and even brushed his teeth... and yet, psychically, as he
- might have said himself, he still tasted that dishcloth.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he had not walked far before some of his complacence returned. He
- removed his hat and ran his fingers through his interesting hair, and
- began to murmur lyrically:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “By Jove!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I have a way with women!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There must be something of the Cave Man in me
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Yes, something of the primeval!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- In his pocket was a little book of his own poems, bound in green and gold.
- As he had remarked to Mrs. Wimple, he was to deliver his message that
- afternoon.
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. Watson's
- apartment (to which Ferdinand betook himself after idling a couple of
- hours at his club) was toward the top of a tall building which overlooked
- great fields of city. It was but three blocks distant from Ferdinand's own
- humbler apartment, in uptown New York, but it was large, and... well, Mr.
- </p>
- <p>
- Wimple calculated, harbouring the sordid thought for an instant, that the
- rent must cost her seven or eight, thousand dollars a year.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Watson's life was delicately scented with an attar of expense. She
- would not drench her rooms or her existence with wealth, any more than she
- would spill perfume upon her garments with a careless hand. But the
- sensitive' nostrils of the aesthetic Mr. Wimple quivered in reaction to
- the aroma. For a person who despised gold, as Mr. Wimple professed to
- despise it, he was strangely unrepelled. Perhaps he thought it to be his
- spiritual duty to purify this atmosphere with his message.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were eighteen or twenty women there when Ferdinand arrived, and no
- man... except a weakeyed captive husband or two, and an epicene creature
- with a violin, if you want to call them men. Ferdinand, with his bovine
- body and his leonine head, seemed almost startlingly masculine in this
- assemblage, and felt so. His spirit, he had often confessed, was an
- instrument that vibrated best in unison with the subtle feminine soul; he
- felt it play upon him and woo him, with little winds that ran their
- fingers through his hair. These were women who had no occupation, and a
- number of them had money; they felt delightfully cultivated when persons
- such as Ferdinand talked to them about the Soul. They warmed, they
- expanded, half unconsciously they projected those breaths and breezes
- which thrilled our Ferdinand and wrought upon his mood. If a woman, idle
- and mature, cannot find romance anywhere else or anyhow other she will
- pick upon a preacher or an artist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Watson collected Ferdinands. Just how seriously she took them—how
- she regarded himself, specifically—Mr. Wimple could not be quite
- certain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a woman of mystery,” Mr. Wimple often murmured to himself. And he
- wondered a good deal about her... sometimes he wondered if she were not in
- love with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had once written to her, a poem, which he entitled “Mystery.” She had
- let him see that she understood it, but she had not vouchsafed a solution
- of herself. It might be possible, Ferdinand thought, that she did <i>not</i>
- love him... but she sympathized with him; she appreciated him; she had
- even fallen into a dreamy sadness one day, at the thought of how he must
- suffer from the disharmony in his home. For somehow, without much having
- been said by one or by the other, the knowledge had passed from Ferdinand
- to Mrs. Watson that there was not harmony in his home. She had understood.
- They had looked at each other, and she had understood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alethea!” he had murmured, under his breath. Alethea was her name. He was
- sure she had heard it; but she had neither accepted it from him, nor
- rejected it. And he had gone away without quite daring to say it again in
- a louder tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was only one thing about her that sometimes jarred upon Mr.
- Wimple... a sudden vein of levity. Sometimes Ferdinand, in his thoughts,
- even accused her of irony. And he was vaguely distrustful of a sense of
- the humorous in women; whether it took the form of a feeling for nonsense
- or a talent for sarcasm, it worried him.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she understood. She always understood... him and his message.
- </p>
- <p>
- And this afternoon she seemed to be understanding him, to be absorbing him
- and his message, with an increased sensitiveness. She regarded him with a
- new intentness, he thought; she was taking him with an expanded spiritual
- capacity.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was after the music, and what a creature overladen with “art jewelry”
- called “the eats,” harrowing Ferdinand with the vulgar word, that he
- delivered his message, sitting not far from Mrs. Watson in the carefully
- graduated light.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, upon the whole, a cheerful message, Ferdinand's. It was...
- succinctly... Love.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ferdinand was not pessimistic or cynical about Love. It was all around us,
- he thought, if we could only see it, could only feel it, could only open
- our beings for its reception.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we could only see into the hearts! If we could only see into the
- homes!” said Ferdinand. If we could only see, it was Ferdinand's belief,
- we should see Love there, unexpected treasures of Love, waiting dormant
- for the arousing touch; slumbering, as Endymion slumbered, until Diana's
- kiss awakened him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mush!” muttered one of the captive husbands to the young violinist. But
- the young violinist scowled; he was in accord with Ferdinand. “Mush,
- slush, and gush!” whispered the first captive husband to the second
- captive husband. But captive husband number two only nodded and grinned in
- an idiotic way; he was lucky enough to be quite deaf, and no matter where
- his wife took him he could sit and think of his Liberty Bonds, without
- being bothered by the lion of the hour....
- </p>
- <p>
- The world, Ferdinand went on, was trembling on the verge of a great
- spiritual awakening. The Millennium was about to stoop and kiss it, as
- Morning kissed the mountain tops. It was coming soon. Already the first
- faint streaks of the new dawn were in the orient sky... for eyes that
- could see them. Ah, if one could only see! In more and more bosoms, the
- world around, Love was becoming conscious of itself, Love was beginning to
- understand that there was love in other bosoms, too! At this point, at
- least a dozen bosoms, among those bosoms present, heaved with sighs. Heart
- was reaching out to Heart in a new confidence, Ferdinand said. One knew
- what was in one's own heart; but hitherto one had often been so blind that
- one did not realize that the same thing was in the hearts of one's
- fellows. Ah, if one could only see!
- </p>
- <p>
- Maeterlinck saw, Ferdinand said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Maeterlinck!” whispered the bosoms.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, Maeterlinck saw, said Ferdinand. Nietzsche, said Ferdinand, had
- possessed a bosom full of yearning for all humanity, but he had been
- driven back upon himself and embittered by the world... by the German
- world in which he lived, said Ferdinand. So Nietzsche's strength had
- little sweetness in it, and Nietzsche had not lived to see the new light
- in the orient sky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Nietzsche!” moaned several sympathetic bosoms.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bergson knew, Ferdinand opined. Several of the women present did not quite
- catch the connection between Bergson and Ferdinand's message, but they
- assumed that everyone else caught it. Bergson's was a name they knew
- and... and in a moment Ferdinand was on more familiar ground again. Tagore
- knew, said Ferdinand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Rabindranath Tagore!” And the bosoms fluttered as doves flutter when
- they coo and settle upon the eaves. Love! That was Ferdinand's message.
- And it appeared from the remarks with which he introduced and interspersed
- his own poems, that all the really brilliant men of the day were thinking
- in harmony with Ferdinand. He had the gift of introducing a celebrated
- name every now and then in such a manner that these women, who were at
- least familiar with the names, actually felt that they were also familiar
- with the work for which the names stood. And, for his part, he was repaid,
- this afternoon, as he had never been repaid before ... never before had he
- been so wrought upon and electrically vivified as to-day by these
- emanations of the feminine soul; never before had he felt these little
- winds run their fingers through his hair with such a caressing touch. Once
- or twice the poignancy of the sensation almost unsteadied him for an
- instant. And never before had Mrs. Watson regarded him with such singular
- intentness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Love! That was Ferdinand's message! And, ah! if one could only see!
- </p>
- <p>
- When the others were going, Mrs. Watson asked him to stay a while, and
- Ferdinand stayed. She led him to a little sitting room, high above the
- town, and stood by the window. And he stood beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your message this afternoon,” she said, presently, “I enjoyed more than
- anything I have ever heard you say before. If we could only see! If we
- could only see!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Watson lifted her blue eyes to him... and for an instant Ferdinand
- felt that she was more the woman of mystery than ever. For there lurked
- within the eyes an equivocal ripple of light; an unsteady glint that came
- and went. Had it not been for her words, Ferdinand might have feared that
- she was about to break into one of her disconcerting ebullitions of
- levity. But he perceived in her, at the same time, a certain tension, an
- unusual strain, and was reassured... she was a little strange, perhaps,
- because of his near presence. She was reacting to the magnetism which was
- flowing out of him in great waves, and she was striving to conceal from
- him her psychic excitement. That would account for any strangeness in her
- manner, any constraint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we could only see!” she repeated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>You</i> always see,” hazarded Ferdinand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I sometimes see,” said Mrs. Watson. “I have sometimes seen more than it
- was intended for me to see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- What could she mean by that? Ferdinand asked himself. And for an instant
- he was unpleasantly conscious again of the something ambiguous in her
- mood. Suddenly she turned and switched on the electric light in the room,
- and then went and stood by the window again. Ferdinand's psychic feathers
- were a trifle rumpled by the action. It was growing dusk... but he would
- have liked to talk to her in the twilight, looking out over the roofs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we could only see into the hearts ... into the homes,” she mused yet
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you could see into my heart now ... Alethea...”
- </p>
- <p>
- He left the sentence unfinished. She did not look at him. She turned her
- face so he could not see it.
- </p>
- <p>
- He tried to take her hand. But she avoided that, without actually moving,
- without giving ground... as a boxer in the ring may escape the full effect
- of a blow he does not parry by shrugging it off, without retreating.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a moment's silence she said: “Ferdinand...” and paused....
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt sure of her, then. He drew a long breath. He wished they were not
- standing by that window, framed in it, with the lighted room behind
- them... but since she <i>would</i> stand there... anyhow, now was the
- time....
- </p>
- <p>
- And then he heard himself pleading with her, eloquently, fervently. She
- was his ideal! She was... he hated the word “affinity,” because it had
- been cheapened and vulgarized by gross contacts... but she <i>was</i> his
- affinity. They were made for one another. It was predestined that they
- should meet and love. She was what he needed to complete him, to fulfill
- him. They would go forth together... not into the world, but away from
- it... they would dwell upon the heights, and... and... so forth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ferdinand, as he pleaded, perhaps thought nothing consciously of the fact
- that she must be spending money at the rate of fifty or sixty thousand
- dollars a year. But, nevertheless, that subconscious mind of his, of which
- he had so often spoken, that subliminal self, must have been considering
- the figures, for suddenly there flashed before his inner eye the result of
- a mathematical calculation...<i> fifty thousand dollars a year is the
- interest on one million dollars at five per cent</i>. Ah, that would make
- his dreams possible! How his service to the human race might be increased
- in value if all his time could be but given to carrying his message!
- Farewell to the sordid struggle for bread! And in the poetic depths of him
- there moved, unuttered, a phrase which he had spoken aloud earlier in the
- day: <i>“I shall never wash another dish, nor yet another undergarment</i>.”
- This secondary line of thought, however, did not interfere with the lyric
- passion of his speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are asking me to... to... <i>elope</i> with you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She still drooped her head, but she let him feel her nearness. He wished—how
- he wished!—that they were away from that window. But he would not
- break the spell by suggesting that they move. Perhaps he could not
- reestablish it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elope?” Ferdinand critically considered the word.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to come away with me, Alethea, into Paradise. I want you to
- help me rediscover Eden! I want you! I want you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But... your family?” she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. “That episode,
- that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended,” said
- Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Ended?” said Mrs. Watson. “You are no longer living with your wife?
- The marriage is dissolved?” Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been dissolved
- for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had never taken
- the trouble to inquire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the spiritual sense—and that is all that counts—dissolved,”
- said Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: “To-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and put her
- head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried “Victory!” he
- was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to take her in his
- arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. He stood in
- perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he heard muffled
- sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, or...
- </p>
- <p>
- No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What?
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her
- laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me,” said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in
- her eyes, “but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to
- tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had
- better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can never
- touch anything but the interest, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alethea,” said Ferdinand, chokingly, “such a thought at a time like this
- is unworthy of both of us!” And he advanced toward her again. But she
- stopped him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I
- wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do our
- own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my arm
- until I howled!”
- </p>
- <p>
- As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of
- vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a
- chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get up!” said Mrs. Watson, with a cold little silver tinkle of a laugh.
- “I didn't ask you to sit down!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Ferdinand got up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't spy on my neighbours as a rule,” continued Mrs. Watson, “but a
- little after noon to-day I happened to be standing by this window looking
- out over the town, and this pair of opera glasses happened to be on the
- table there and... well, take them, you oaf! You fat fool! And look at
- that window, down there! It's your own kitchen window!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Ferdinand took them and looked... he was crushed and speechless, and he
- obeyed mechanically.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dropped the glasses with a gasp. He had not only seen into his own
- kitchen window, lighted as this one was, but he had seen Nell there...
- and, as perverse fate would have it, some whim had inspired Nell to take
- her own opera glasses and look out over the city. She was standing there
- with them now. Had she seen him a moment before, with Mrs. Watson's head
- upon his shoulder?
- </p>
- <p>
- He started out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait a moment,” said Mrs. Watson. Ferdinand stopped. He still seemed
- oddly without volition. It reminded him of what he had heard about certain
- men suffering from shell shock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There... I wanted to do that before you went,” said Mrs. Watson, and
- slapped him across the face. And Ferdinand's soul registered once more the
- flavour of a damp dishcloth. “It's the second time a woman has slapped you
- to-day,” said Mrs. Watson. “Try and finish the rest of the day without
- getting a third one. You can go now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Ferdinand went. He reached the street, and walked several blocks in
- silence. Neither his voice nor his assurance seemed to be inclined to
- return to him speedily. His voice came back first, with a little of his
- complacence, after fifteen or twenty minutes. And:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hell!” said Ferdinand, in his rich, harplike voice, running his fingers
- through his tawny hair. “Hell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- HOW HANK SIGNED THE PLEDGE
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>AUTHOR'S NOTE—Another version of this story appeared in a book
- entitled “Danny's Own Story,” published in 1912 by Doubleday, Page &
- Co.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>'m not so sure
- about Prohibition and pledges and such things holding back a man that has
- got the liquor idea in his head. If meanness is in a man, it usually stays
- in him, in spite of all the pledges he signs and the promises he makes.
- </p>
- <p>
- About the meanest man I ever knew was Hank Walters, a blacksmith in a
- little town in Illinois, the meanest and the whiskey-drinkingest. And I
- had a chance to know him well, for he and his wife Elmira brought me up.
- Somebody left me on their doorstep in a basket when I was a baby, and they
- took me in and raised me. I reckon they took me in so they could quarrel
- about me. They'd lived together a good many years and quarrelled about
- everything else under the sun, and were running out of topics to row over.
- A new topic of dissension sort of briskened things up for a while.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not having any kids of his own to lick, Hank lambasted me when he was
- drunk and whaled me when he was sober. It was a change from licking his
- wife, I suppose. A man like Hank has just naturally got to have something
- he can cuss around and boss, so as to keep himself from finding out he
- don't amount to anything... although he must have known he didn't, too,
- way down deep in his inmost gizzards.
- </p>
- <p>
- So I was unhappy when I was a kid, but not knowing anything else I never
- found out exactly how unhappy I was. There were worse places to live in
- than that little town, and there was one thing in our house that I always
- admired when I was a kid. That was a big cistern. Most people had their
- cisterns outside their houses, but ours was right in under our kitchen
- floor, and there was a trap door with leather hinges opened into it right
- by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so proud of it. It was
- because the cistern was full of fish—bullheads and redhorse and
- sunfish and pickerel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hank's father built the cistern. And one time he brought home some live
- fish in a bucket and dumped them in there. And they grew. And multiplied
- and refurnished the earth, as the Good Book says. That cistern full of
- fish had got to be a family custom. It was a comfort to Hank, for all the
- Walterses were great fish eaters, though it never went to brains any. We
- fed 'em now and then, and threw the little ones back in until they were
- grown, and kept the dead ones picked out as soon as we smelled anything
- wrong, and it never hurt the water any; and when I was a kid I wouldn't
- have taken anything for living in a house like that.
- </p>
- <p>
- One time when I was a kid about six years old Hank came home drunk from
- Bill Nolan's barroom, and got to chasing Elmira's cat, because he said it
- was making faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in.
- Elmira wasn't at home, and I was scared. Elmira had always told me not to
- fool around that cistern door any when I was a kid, for if I fell in
- there, she said, I'd be a corpse, quicker'n scatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- So when Hank fell in and I heard him splash, being such a little fellow
- and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I supposed
- that Hank was probably a corpse already. I slammed the door shut over the
- cistern without looking in, for I heard Hank flopping around down there. I
- hadn't ever heard a corpse flop before and didn't know but what it might
- be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take any chances.
- </p>
- <p>
- I went out and played in the front yard and waited for Elmira. But I
- couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, or
- anything. I kept thinking of Hank being a corpse down in that cistern. And
- maybe that corpse is going to come flopping out pretty soon, I thought to
- myself, and lick me in some new and unusual way. I hadn't ever been licked
- by a corpse. Being young and innocent, I didn't rightly know what a corpse
- is, except I had the idea there was something about a corpse that kept
- them from being popular.
- </p>
- <p>
- So after a while I sneaked back into the house and set all the flatirons
- on top of the cistern lid. I heard some flopping and splashing and
- fluttering, as if that corpse was trying to jump up and was falling back
- into the water, and I heard Hank's voice, and got scareder and scareder.
- When Elmira came along down the road she saw me by the gate crying and
- blubbering, and she asked me why.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hank is a corpse!” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A corpse!” says Elmira, dropping the pound of coffee she was carrying
- home from the general store and post-office. “Danny, what do you mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I saw then I was to blame somehow, and I wished I hadn't said anything
- about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say anything
- more. So when she grabbed hold of me and asked me again what I meant I
- blubbered harder, as a kid will, and said nothing. I wished I hadn't set
- those flatirons on the cistern lid, for it came to me all at once that
- even if Hank had turned into a corpse I hadn't any right to keep him in
- the cistern.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then old Mis' Rogers, one of our neighbours, came by, while Elmira
- was shaking me and yelling at me and asking how it happened, and had I
- seen it, and where was Hank's corpse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's Danny been doing now?” asked Mis' Rogers—me being always up
- to something.
- </p>
- <p>
- Elmira turned and saw her and gave a whoop and hollered out: “Hank is
- dead!” And she threw her apron over her head and sat right down in the
- path and boo-hooed like a baby. And I bellered and howled all the louder.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ask anything more. She saw she had a
- piece of news, and she wanted to be the first to spread it. She ran right
- across the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, she saw
- her coming and unhooked the screen door and Mis' Rogers hollered out
- before she reached the porch: “Hank Walters is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then she went footing it up the street. There was a black plume on her
- bonnet, nodding the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of seven
- front yards in less than five minutes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' Alexander she ran across the road to where we were, and kneeled down
- and put her arm around Elmira, who was still rocking back and forth in the
- path, and she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I saw him not more than an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Danny saw it all,” says Elmira.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' Alexander turned to me and wanted to know what happened and how it
- happened and where it happened. But I didn't want to say anything about
- that cistern. So I busted out crying all over again and I said: “He was
- drunk and he came home drunk and he did it then, and that's how he did
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you saw him?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is he?” says she and Elmira, both together.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I was scared to say anything about that cistern, so I just bawled some
- more.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was it in the blacksmith shop?” asks Mis' Alexander.
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded my head again, and let it go at that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is he in there now?” she wants to know.
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded again. I hadn't meant to give out any untrue stories. But a kid
- will always lie, not meaning particular to lie, if you sort of invite him
- with questions like that, and get him scared by the way you're acting.
- Besides, I says to myself, so long as Hank has turned into a corpse, and
- being a corpse makes him dead, what's the difference whether he's in the
- blacksmith shop or in the cistern? I hadn't had any plain idea before that
- being a corpse meant the same thing as being dead. And I wasn't any too
- sure what being dead was like, either. Except I knew they had funerals
- over you then. I knew being a corpse must be a disadvantage from the way
- that Elmira has always said to keep away from that cistern, or I'd be one.
- And I began to see the whole thing was more important even than I had
- figured it was at first. I wondered if there'd be a funeral at our house.
- If there was one, that would be fine. They didn't have them every day in
- our town, and we hadn't ever had one of our own.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis'
- Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a-tagging along behind holding on
- to Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all those
- women that Mis' Rogers had told came filing into the house, one at a time,
- looking sad and mournful. Only old Mis' Primrose, she was a little late
- getting there, because she stopped to put on the dress she always wore to
- funerals, with the black Paris lace on to it that her cousin Arminty White
- had sent her from Chicago.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they found out that Hank had come home with liquor in him and done it
- himself they were all excited and they all crowded around and asked me
- questions, except two that were holding Elmira's hands where she sat
- moaning in a chair. And those questions scared me and egged me on to lies
- I hadn't had any idea of telling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Says one woman: “Danny, you saw him do it in the blacksmith shop?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how did he get in?” says another one. “The door was locked on the
- outside with a padlock just now when I came by. He couldn't have killed
- himself in there and then locked the door on the outside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn't see how he could have done that myself, so I began to bawl again
- and said nothing at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must have crawled into the shop through that little side window,” says
- Mis' Primrose. “That window was open when I came by, even if the door was
- locked. Did you see him crawl through the little side window, Danny?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded. There wasn't anything else I could think of to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you aren't tall enough to look through that window;” sings out Mis'
- Rogers. “How could you see into the shop, Danny?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn't know, so I didn't say anything at all; I just sniffled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's a store box right in under the window,” says another one. “Danny
- must have climbed on to that store box and looked in after he saw Hank
- crawl through the window. Did you scramble on to the store box and look
- in, Danny?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I just nodded again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what was it you saw him do? How did he kill himself?” they all asked
- together.
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn't know. So I just bellered and boo-hooed some more. Things were
- getting past anything I could see the way out of.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He might have hung himself to one of the iron rings in the joists above
- the forge,” says another woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He climbed on to the forge and tied the rope to one of those rings, and
- tied the other end around his neck, and then he stepped off the forge and
- swung. Was that how he did it, Danny?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I nodded. And I bellered louder than ever. I knew that Hank was down in
- that cistern below the kitchen, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all this
- time; but those women kind of got me to thinking he was hanging out in the
- blacksmith shop by the forge, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pretty soon one woman says, shivery: “I wouldn't want to have the job of
- opening the door of the blacksmith shop the first one!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they all shivered, and looked at Elmira, and says to let some of the
- men open that door. And Mis' Alexander says she'll run and get her husband
- and make him do it. And all the time Elmira sits moaning in that chair.
- One woman says Elmira ought to have a cup of tea, and she'll lay off her
- bonnet and go to the kitchen and make it for her. But Elmira says no, she
- can't a-bear to think of tea, with poor Hennery hanging out there in the
- shop. But she was kind of enjoying all that fuss being made over her, too.
- And all the other women said: “Poor thing!” But most of them were mad
- because she said she didn't want any tea, for they wanted some and didn't
- feel free to take it without she took some. They coaxed her and made her
- see that it was her duty, and she said she'd have some finally.
- </p>
- <p>
- So they all went out to the kitchen, taking along some of the best room
- chairs, Elmira coming, too, and me tagging along. The first thing they
- noticed was those flatirons on top of the cistern lid. Mis' Primrose says
- that looks funny. But Mis' Rogers says Danny must have been playing with
- them. “Were you playing they were horses, Danny?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I nodded. I
- couldn't see any use hurrying things up. I was bound to get a licking
- pretty soon anyhow. I could always bet on that. So they picked up the
- flatirons, and as they picked them up there came a splashing noise in the
- cistern. I thought to myself that Hank's corpse would be out of there in a
- minute, and then I'd catch it. One woman says: “Sakes alive! What's that
- noise?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Elmira says the cistern is full of fish and it must be some of the biggest
- ones flopping around. If they hadn't been worked up and excited and
- talking all together and thinking of Hank hanging out in the blacksmith
- shop they might have suspicioned something, for that flopping and
- splashing kept up steady. Maybe I should have mentioned sooner it had been
- a dry summer and there was only three or four feet of water in the cistern
- and Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. When Elmira says
- the cistern is full of fish that woman opens the trap door and looks in.
- Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out, he says afterward. And he
- allows he'll keep quiet in there and make believe he is drowned and give
- her a good scare and make her feel sorry for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when the cistern door was opened he heard a lot of clacking tongues
- like a hen convention, and he allowed she had told the neighbours, and
- he'd scare them, too. So he laid low. And the woman that looked in, she
- sees nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale that
- swallowed Jonah. But she left the door open and went on making tea, and
- there wasn't scarcely a sound from that cistern, only little ripply noises
- like it might have been fish. Pretty soon Mis' Rogers says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?” Elmira kicked some more,
- but she took hers. And each woman took hers. And one woman, a-sipping of
- hers, she says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The departed had his good points, Elmira.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town for years and
- years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no matter
- what come of it, and she ups and says: “I don't believe in any hypocritics
- at a time like this, any more'n any other time. The departed wasn't any
- good, and the whole town knows it, and Elmira ought to feel like it's good
- riddance of bad rubbish, and such is my sentiments and the sentiments of
- truth and righteousness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All the other women sings out: “W'y, Mis' Primrose, I never!” But down in
- underneath more of 'em agreed than let on to. Elmira she wiped her eyes
- and says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hennery and me had our troubles, there ain't any use denying that, Mis'
- Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. And
- the whole town knows he has lifted his hand against me more'n once. But I
- always stood up to Hennery and I fit him back, free and fair and open. I
- give him as good as he sent on this earth and I ain't the one to carry a
- mad beyond the grave. I forgive Hennery all the orneriness he did to me,
- and there was a lot of it, as is becoming to a church member, which he
- never was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All the women but Mis' Primrose says: “Elmira, you <i>have</i> got a
- Christian sperrit!” Which did her a heap of good, and she cried
- considerable harder, leaking out tears as fast as she poured tea in. And
- each one present tried to think up something nice to say about Hank, only
- there wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that cistern, listening to
- every word of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' Rogers, she says: “Before he took to drinking like a fish, Hank
- Walters was as likely a lookin' young feller as ever I see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mis' White, she says: “Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, anyhow. Often
- and often White has told me about seeing Hank treating the crowd down in
- Nolan's saloon just as come-easy, go-easy as if it wasn't money he'd ought
- to have paid his honest debts with.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They sat there that way telling of what good points they could think of
- for ten minutes, and Hank hearing it and getting madder and madder all the
- time. By and by Tom Alexander came busting into the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the matter with all you women?” he says. “There's nobody hanging
- in that blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, and it's
- empty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pretty howdy-do, then, and they all sing out:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where's the corpse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Some thinks maybe someone has cut it down and taken it away, and all
- gabbled at once. But for a minute or two no one thought that maybe little
- Danny had been egged on to tell lies. And little Danny ain't saying a
- word. But Elmira grabbed me and shook me and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You little liar, what do you mean by that story of yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought that licking was about due then. But whilst all eyes were turned
- on me and Elmira, there came a voice from the cistern. It was Hank's
- voice, but it sounded queer and hollow, and it said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tom Alexander, is that you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Some of the women screamed, for they thought it was Hank's ghost. But Mis'
- Primrose says: “What would a ghost be doing in a cistern?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom Alexander laughed and yelled down into the cistern: “What in blazes
- you want to jump in there for, Hank?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You darned ijut!” said Hank, “you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and
- when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ask me what I wanted to jump in
- here for!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You never saw the day you could do it,” says Tom Alexander, meaning the
- day Hank could lick him. “And if you feel that way about it you can stay
- down there, for all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you any, for
- a change.” And he left the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmira,” sings out Hank, mad and bossy, “you go get me a ladder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Elmira, her temper rose up, too, all of a sudden.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet,
- Hennery Walters,” she says.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. “When I get out'n here,” he shouted,
- “I'll give you what you won't forget in a hurry! I heard you a-forgivin'
- me and a-weepin' over me! And I won't be forgive nor weeped over by no
- one! You go and get that ladder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Elmira only answered: “You was drunk when you fell in there, Hank
- Walters. And you can stay in there till you get a better temper on to
- you.” And all the women laughed and said: “That's right, Elmira! Spunk up
- to him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was considerable splashing around in the water for a couple of
- minutes. And then, of a sudden, a live fish came a-whirling out of that
- hole in the floor, which he catched with his hands. It was a big bullhead,
- and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, and it landed
- kerplump on to Mis' Rogers' lap, a-wiggling, and it horned her on the
- hands. She was that surprised she fainted. Mis' Primrose, she got up and
- licked the fish back into the cistern and said, right decided:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmira Walters, if you let Hank out of that cistern before he's signed
- the pledge and promised to jine the church, you're a bigger fool than I
- take you for. A woman has got to make a stand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And all the women sing out: “Send for Brother Cartwright! Send for Brother
- Cartwright!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they sent me scooting down the street to get him quick. He was the
- preacher. I never stopped to tell but two or three people on the way to
- his house, but they must have spread the news quick, for when I got back
- with him it looked like the whole town was at our house.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was along about dusk by this time, and it was a prayer meeting night at
- the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks that came to
- the prayer meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait for him. But she
- really told them where he'd gone, and what for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Cartwright marched right into our kitchen. All the chairs in the house
- was in there, and the women were talking and laughing, and they had sent
- to the Alexanderses for their chairs, and to the Rogerses for theirs.
- Every once in a while there would be an awful burst of language come
- rolling up from the hole where that unregenerate old sinner was cooped up.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have travelled around considerable since those days, and I have mixed up
- along with many kinds of people in many different places, and some of them
- were cussers to admire. But I never heard such cussing before or since as
- old Hank did that night. He busted his own records and he rose higher than
- his own water marks for previous years. I wasn't anything but a little kid
- then, not fit to admire the full beauty of it. They were deep down cusses
- that came from the heart. Looking back at it after these years, I can well
- believe what Brother Cartwright said himself that night—that it
- wasn't <i>natural</i> cussing, and that some higher power, like a demon or
- an evil sperrit, must have entered into Hank's human carcase and given
- that terrible eloquence to his remarks. It busted out every few minutes,
- and the women would put their fingers into their ears until a spell was
- over. And it was personal, too. Hank would listen till he heard a woman's
- voice he knew, and then he would let loose on her family, going back to
- her grandfathers and working downward to her children's children.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brother Cartwright steps up to the hole in the floor and says gentle and
- soothing like an undertaker when he tells you where to sit at a home
- funeral:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother Walters! Oh, Brother Walters!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother!” yelled Hank, “don't ye brother me, you snifflin',
- psalm-singin', yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hyp-percrit, you! Get me a
- ladder, gol dern ye, and I'll mount out o'here and learn ye to brother me,
- I will!” Only that wasn't anything to what Hank really said; no more like
- than a little yellow fluffy canary is like a turkey buzzard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother Walters,” said the preacher, calm but firm, “we have all decided
- that you aren't going to get out of that cistern until you sign the
- pledge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Hank told him what he thought of him and pledges and church doings,
- and it wasn't pretty. He said if he was as deep in the eternal fire of
- hell as he was in rain water, and every fish that nibbled at his toes was
- a devil with a red-hot pitchfork sicked on by a preacher, they could jab
- at him until the whole hereafter turned into icicles before he'd sign
- anything that a man like Mr. Cartwright gave him to sign. Hank was
- stubborner than any mule he ever nailed shoes on to, and proud of being
- that stubborn. That town was a most awful religious town, and Hank knew he
- was called the most unreligious man in it, and he was proud of that, too;
- and if any one called him a heathen it just plumb tickled him all over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother Walters,” says the preacher, “we are going to pray for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they did it. They brought all the chairs close up around the cistern
- door, in a ring, and they all knelt down there with their heads on the
- chairs and prayed for Hank's salvation. They did it up in style, too, one
- at a time, and the others singing out, “Amen!” every now and then, and
- they shed tears down on to Hank.
- </p>
- <p>
- The front yard was crowded with men, all laughing and talking and chawing
- and spitting tobacco, and betting how long Hank would hold out. Si Emery,
- that was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated star, was
- out there with them. Si was in a sweat, because Bill Nolan, who ran the
- saloon, and some more of Hank's friends were out by the front fence trying
- to get Si to arrest the preacher. For they said that Hank was being
- gradually murdered in that water and would die if he was held there too
- long, and it would be a crime. Only they didn't come into the house
- amongst us religious folks to say it. But Si, he says he don't dare to
- arrest anybody, because Hank's house is just outside the village
- corporation line; he's considerable worried about what his duty is, not
- liking to displease Bill Nolan.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright had rounded up at the prayer
- meeting came stringing along in. They had brought their hymn books with
- them, and they sung. The whole town was there then, and they all sung.
- They sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank, he would just cuss and cuss.
- Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would start
- another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard began to warm up and
- sing, too, all but Nolan's crowd, and they gave Hank up for lost and went
- back to the barroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing they knew they had a regular old-fashioned revival meeting
- going there, and that preacher was preaching a regular revival sermon.
- I've been to more than one camp meeting, but for just naturally taking
- hold of the whole human race by the slack of the pants and dangling of it
- over hell fire, I never heard that sermon equalled. Two or three old
- backsliders in the crowd came right up and repented all over again. The
- whole kit-and-biling of them got the power, good and hard, and sung and
- shouted till the joints of the house cracked and it shook and swayed on
- its foundations. But Hank, he only cussed. He was obstinate, Hank was, and
- his pride and dander had risen up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Darn your ornery religious hides,” he says, “you're takin' a low-down
- advantage of me, you are! Let me out on to dry land, and I'll show you
- who'll stick it out the longest, I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Most of the folks there hadn't had any suppers, so after all the sinners
- but Hank had either got converted or sneaked away, some of the women said
- why not make a kind of a love feast of it, and bring some victuals, like
- they do at church sociables. Because it seemed that Satan was going to
- wrestle there all night, like he did with the angel Jacob, and they ought
- to be prepared. So they did it. They went and they came back with things
- to eat and they made hot coffee and they feasted that preacher and
- themselves and Elmira and me, right in Hank's hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Hank was getting pretty hungry himself. And he was cold in that water.
- And the fish were nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out and weak
- and soaked full of despair. There wasn't any way for him to sit down and
- rest. He was scared of getting cramps in his legs and sinking down with
- his head under water and being drowned.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said afterward he would have done the last with pleasure if there had
- been any way of starting a lawsuit for murder against that gang. So along
- between ten and eleven o'clock that night he sings out:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I give in, gosh dern ye, I give in! Let me out and I'll sign your pesky
- pledge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brother Cartwright was for getting a ladder and letting him climb out
- right away. But Elmira said: “You don't know him like I do! If he gets out
- before he's signed the pledge, he'll never do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So Brother Cartwright wrote out a pledge on the inside leaf of the Bible,
- and tied it on to a string, and a pencil on to another string, and let
- them down, and held a lantern down, too, and Hank made his mark, for he
- couldn't write. But just as Hank was making his mark that preacher spoke
- some words over Hank, and then he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the
- church.”
- </p>
- <p>
- You might have thought that Hank would have broken out into profanity
- again at that, for he hadn't agreed to anything but signing the pledge.
- But he didn't cuss. When they got the ladder and he climbed up into the
- kitchen, shivering and dripping, he said serious and solemn to Mr.
- Cartwright:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I hear you baptizing me in that water?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Cartwright said he had.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was a low-down trick,” said Hank. “You knowed I always made my brags
- that I'd never jined a church and never would. You knowed I was proud of
- that. You knowed it was my glory to tell it, and that I set a heap of
- store by it, in every way. And now you've gone and took that away from me!
- You've gone and jined me to the church! You never fought it out fair and
- square, man strivin' to outlast man, like we done with the pledge, but you
- sneaked it on to me when I wasn't lookin'!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Hank always thought he had been baptized binding and regular. And he
- sorrowed and grieved over it, and got grouchier and meaner and drunkener.
- No pledge nor no Prohibition could hold Hank. He was a worse man in every
- way after that night in the cistern, and took to licking me harder and
- harder.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- ACCURSED HAT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> request of you a
- razor, and you present me with this implement! A safety razor! One cannot
- gash oneself with your invention. Do you think I rush to your apartment
- with the desire to barber myself? No, <i>milles diables</i>, no! I 'ave
- embrace you for my friend, and you mock at my despair. This tool may
- safely abolish the 'air from the lip of the drummer when the train 'ave to
- wiggle, but it will not gash the jugular; it will not release the bluest
- blood of France that courses through one's veins.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Oui,</i> I will restrain myself. I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i> I
- will make myself of a calmness. I will explain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, it is a woman. What else? At the insides of all despair it is a woman
- ever. That is always the—the—w'at you call 'im?—the one
- best bet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Listen. I love 'er. She own the 'ouse of which I am one of the lodgers,
- in'abiting the chamber beneath the skylight. She is a widow, and I love
- 'er. Of such a roundness is she!—and she 'ave the restaurant beyond
- the street. Of such a beauty!—and 'er 'usband, who was a Monsieur
- Flanagan, 'e leave 'er w'at you call well fix with life-insurance. So well
- fix, so large, so brilliant of the complexion, so merry of the smile, so
- competent of the ménage, of such a plumpness! 'Ow should it be that one
- did not love 'er?
- </p>
- <p>
- But she? Does she smile on the 'andsome Frenchman who in'abit 'er skylight
- chamber and paint and paint and paint all day long, and sell, oh, so
- little of 'is paintings? <i>Hélas!</i> She scarcely know that 'e exist!
- She 'ave scarcely notice 'im. 'Ow is genius of avail? W'at is wit, w'at is
- gallantry, w'at is manner—w'at is all these things w'en one does not
- possess the—the—w'at you call 'im?—the front? <i>Hélas!</i>
- I love, but I 'ave not the front! My trousers are all of a fringe at the
- bottom, and my collars are all of a frowsiness at the top. My sleeves are
- of such a shine! And my 'at——
- </p>
- <p>
- Ten thousand curses for the man that invented 'ats! You are my friend—'ave
- you a pistol? Yes, I will be calm. I will 'ave a drink. I will restrain
- myself. <i>Merci</i>, monsieur.
- </p>
- <p>
- My sleeves are of a sleekness; and my 'at——My 'at, I look at
- 'im. 'E is—w'at you call 'im?—on the boom! I contemplate 'im
- sadly. I regard 'im with reproach. 'E is ridiculous. 'E look like 'e been
- kicked. With such a 'at, who can enact the lover? With such a 'at, who can
- win 'imself a widow? I fly into a rage. I tear from my 'air. I shake my
- fist at the nose of fate. I become terrible. I dash my 'at upon the floor,
- and jump upon 'im with fury. Then I look at 'im with 'atred. 'E look back
- at me with sorrow in 'is wrinkles. And, <i>Voilà!</i>—as I look at
- 'im I 'ave a thought. The 'at, 'e straighten out from my jump. W'en my
- feet is off, 'e rise a little way from 'is wrinkles where I crush 'im. 'E
- lift 'imself slowly like a jack-in-the-box up from 'is disgrace. And I
- 'ave an idea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur, we Frenchmen are a people of resource!
- </p>
- <p>
- I take my thought to an agent of the advertising profession. I say I 'ave
- come to the place where I am willing to degrade my genius for gold. I wish
- to eat more often. I wish to marry the widow I love. I will forget my art;
- I will make some dollars; I will degrade myself temporarily. The agent of
- advertising 'e say 'e 'ave no need of any degradation, to take 'im
- somewhere else. But I explain, and behold! I am engaged to go to work.
- They furnish me with clothes of a design the most fashionable, and with a
- 'at of which I am myself the architect, and I go to work. I 'ate it, but I
- go to work.
- </p>
- <p>
- The manner of my work is this. The 'at, 'e does it all. (<i>Accursed 'at!</i>)
- 'E is so built that on the outside 'e look like any other silk 'at. But 'e
- 'ave 'is secrets. 'E 'ave 'is surprises. On 'is inside there is a
- clockwork and a spring. At intervals 'e separate 'imself in two in the
- middle, and the top part of 'im go up in the air, slowly, one inch, two
- inch, three inch, four inch, five inch, six inch—like a telescope
- that open 'imself out. And w'at 'ave we then? <i>Voila!</i> We 'ave a
- white silk place, and on it is printed in grand letters:
- </p>
- <h3>
- YOU ARE TOO FAT!
- </h3>
- <h3>
- DR. BLINN
- </h3>
- <h3>
- WILL MAKE YOU THIN
- </h3>
- <p>
- You see, my friend? It is now my profession, every afternoon for three
- hours, to join the promenade; to display my 'at; to make fast in the minds
- of the people 'ow fortunate a discovery is the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur, I am always the gentleman. Am I forced into a vulgar role? Well,
- then, there is something about me that redeems it from vulgarity. I am a
- movable advertisement, but none the less I am an advertisement of dignity.
- Those clothes they furnish, I 'ave made under my own direction. I adorn my
- foot in the most poetical of boots. Only a Frenchman might 'ave created my
- coat. My trousers are poems. I am dressed with that inspiration of
- elegance which only a man of my imagination might devise.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur, I am always the artist. That 'at, I nevaire let 'im go up with a
- pop like a jacking-jump. 'E is not to startle the most sensitive of
- ladies. W'en 'e arise, 'e arise slowly. 'E is majestic in 'is movement. 'E
- ascend with gravity. 'E go up with dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- For three hours each day, I thus set aside my finer emotions. And all the
- town smile; and many 'undreds rush to buy the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn.
- 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan——
- </p>
- <p>
- Curses upon the perfidy of woman! Do not 'old me, I say! Let me go! I will
- leap from your window to the stones below! Well, I will restrain myself.
- Yes, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ow is it that the Widow Flanagan does not perceive that I thus make of my
- 'ead a billboard three hours each day? Monsieur, all Frenchmen are of an
- originality w'en driven to it by fate, and not the least of them am I! To
- 'er I am still the poor but 'andsome artist. It is in the parlours of the
- agent of advertising that I dress myself, I don the 'at, each day. I wear
- before my eyes a thick spectacles; I 'ide my black 'air beneath a gray
- wig; I 'ave shave my own beard and each day put on moustache and royal of
- a colour the same with the wig. There is no danger that the grave
- foreigner, so courteous, so elegant, so much the statesman, who condescend
- to advertise the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn, shall be—shall be—w'at
- you call 'im?—spotted by the Widow Flanagan. She does not connect
- 'im with the 'andsome artist who in'abit 'er skylight chamber. To do so
- would be to kill my 'opes. For love is not to be made ridiculous.
- </p>
- <p>
- I prosper. I 'ave money each week. I eat. I acquire me some clothes which
- are not the same with those worn by the employee of Monsieur Blinn. I buy
- me a silk 'at which 'ave no clockwork in 'is inside. I acquire the—w'at
- you call 'im?—the front. I dine at the café of the Widow Flanagan
- beyond the street. I chat with the Widow Flanagan w'en I pay my check.
- Monsieur, the Widow Flanagan at las' know the 'andsome Frenchman exist!
- The front, 'e work like a charm. 'E give the genius beneath 'im the chance
- to show w'at 'e can do. The front, 'e make—'ow you call 'im?—'e
- make good.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ave I said enough? You are my friend; you see me, w'at I am. Is it
- possible that the Widow Flanagan should look upon me and not be of a
- flutter throughout? I 'ave said enough. She see me; she love me. With
- women, it is always so!
- </p>
- <p>
- The day is name; we will marry. Already I look forward to the time that I
- am no longer compelled to the service of the anti-fat of Monsieur Blinn.
- Already I indulge my fancy in my 'appiness with the beautiful Widow
- Flanagan, whose 'usband 'ave fortunately die and leave 'er so ver' well
- fix. But, <i>hélas!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Grasp me! Restrain me! Again my grief 'ave overpower! 'Ave you a
- rough-on-rats in the 'ouse? 'Ave you a poison? Yes, you are my friend.
- Yes, I will restrain myself. Yes, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- The day is name. The day arrive. I 'ave shave. I 'ave bathe. I am 'appy. I
- skip; I dance; I am exalt; all the morning I 'urn a little tune—O
- love, love, love! And such a widow—so plump and so well fix!
- </p>
- <p>
- The wedding is at the 'ome of Madame Flanagan. Meantime, I am with a
- friend. The hour approach. The guests are there; the priest is there; the
- mother of the Widow Flanagan, come from afar, is there. We arrive, my
- friend and me. It is at the door that we are met by the mother of the
- Widow Flanagan. It is at the door she grasp my 'and; she smile, and then,
- before I 'ave time to remove my 'at——
- </p>
- <p>
- Accursed 'at! Restrain me! I will do myself a mischief! Well, yes, I will
- be calm. I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci</i>, my friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- I see 'er face grow red. She scream. She lift 'er and as if to strike me.
- She scream again. I know not w'at I must think. The Widow Flanagan she
- 'ear 'er mother scream. She rush downstairs. I turn to the Widow Flanagan,
- but she 'as no eyes for me. She is gazing on my 'at. Monsieur, then I
- know. I 'ave got the wrong one in dressing; and I feel that accursed thing
- are lifting itself up to say to my bride and her mother:
- </p>
- <h3>
- YOU ARE TOO FAT!
- </h3>
- <h3>
- DR. BLINN
- </h3>
- <h3>
- WILL MAKE YOU THIN
- </h3>
- <p>
- And be'ind the Widow Flanagan and 'er mother come crowding fifty guests,
- and everyone 'as seen my 'at make those remarks! Accursed widow! The door
- is slam in my face! I am jilted!
- </p>
- <p>
- Ah, laugh, you pigs of guests, laugh, till you shake down the dwelling of
- the Widow Flanagan! Were it not that I remember that I once loved you,
- Madame Flanagan, that 'ouse would now be ashes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur, I 'ave done. I 'ave spoken. Now I will die. 'Ave you a rope?
- Well, I will calm myself. <i>Oui</i>, I will 'ave a drink. <i>Merci,</i>
- monsieur!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- ROONEY'S TOUCHDOWN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ootball,” said Big
- Joe, the friendly waiter, laying down the sporting page of my paper with a
- reminiscent sigh, “ain't what it was twenty years ago. When I played the
- game it was some different from wood-tag and pump-pump-pull-away. It's
- went to the dogs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Used to be a star, huh?” said I. “What college did you play with, Joe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No college,” said Joe, “can claim me for its alma meter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He seated himself comfortably across the table from me, as the more
- sociably inclined waiters will do in that particular place. “I don't know
- that I ever was a star. But I had the punch, and I was as tough as that
- piece of cow you're trying to stick your fork into. And I played in one
- game the like of which has never been pulled off before or since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me about it,” said I, handing him a cigar. Joe sniffed and tasted it
- suspiciously, and having made sure that it wasn't any brand sold on the
- premises, lighted it. There was only one other customer, and it was near
- closing time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir,” he said, “it wasn't any kissing game in my day. Ever hear of a
- place called Kingstown, Illinois? Well, some has and some hasn't. It's a
- burg of about five thousand souls and it's on the Burlington. Along about
- the time of the Spanish war it turned out a football team that used to eat
- all them little colleges through there alive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The way I joined was right unexpected to me. I happened into the place on
- a freight train, looking for a job, and got pinched for a hobo. When they
- started to take me to the lock-up I licked the chief of police and the
- first deputy chief of police, and the second deputy, but the other member
- of the force made four, and four was too many for me. I hadn't been
- incarcerated ten minutes before a pleasant looking young fellow who had
- seen the rumpus comes up to the cell door with the chief, and says through
- the bars:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'How much do you weigh?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Enough,' says I, still feeling sore, 'to lick six longhaired dudes like
- you.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Mebby,' says he, very amiable, 'mebby you do. And if you do, I've got a
- job for you.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was so nice about it that he made me ashamed of my grouch...
- </p>
- <p>
- “'No offence meant,' says I. 'I only weigh 230 pounds now. But when I'm
- getting the eats regular I soon muscles up to 250 stripped.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'I guess you'll do,' says he, 'judging by the fight you put up. We need
- strength and carelessness in the line.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'What line is that?' says I, suspicious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'From now on,' says he, 'you're right tackle on the Kingstown Football
- Team. I'm going to get you a job with a friend of mine that runs a livery
- stable, but your main duty will be playing football. Are you on?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Lead me to the training table,”' says I. And he paid me loose and done
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This fellow was Jimmy Dolan, and he had once played an end on Yale, and
- couldn't forget it. He and a couple of others that had been off to
- colleges had started the Kingstown Team. One was an old Michigan star, and
- the other had been a half-back at Cornell. The rest of us wasn't college
- men at all, but as I remarked before, we were there with the punch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was Tom Sharp, for instance. Tom was thought out and planned and
- preforedestinated for a centre rush by Nature long before mankind ever
- discovered football. Tom was about seventeen hands high, and his style of
- architecture was mostly round about. I've seen many taller men, but none
- more circumferous as to width and thickness. Tom's chest was the size and
- shape of a barrel of railroad spikes, but a good deal harder. You couldn't
- knock him off his feet, but if you could have, it wouldn't have done you
- any good, for he was just as high one way as he was another—and none
- of it idle fat. Tom was a blacksmith during his leisure hours, and every
- horse and mule for miles around knowed him and trembled at his name. He
- had never got hold of nothing yet that was solid enough to show him how
- strong he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the best player was a big teamster by the name of Jerry Coakley.
- Jerry was between six and eight feet high, and to the naked eye he was
- seemingly all bone. He weighed in at 260 pounds <i>ad valorem</i>, and he
- was the only long bony man like that I ever seen who could get himself
- together and start quick. Tom Sharp would roll down the field calm and
- thoughtful and philosophic, with the enemy clinging to him and dripping
- off of him and crumpling up under him, with no haste and no temper, like
- an absent-minded battleship coming up the bay; but this here Jerry Coakley
- was sudden and nefarious and red-headed like a train-wreck. And the more
- nefarious he was, the more he grinned and chuckled to himself. 'For two
- years that team had been making a reputation for itself, and all the pride
- and affection and patriotism in the town was centred on to it. I joined on
- early in the season, but already the talk was about the Thanksgiving game
- with Lincoln College. This Lincoln College was a right sizable school.
- Kingstown had licked it the year before, and there were many complaints of
- rough play on both sides. But this year Lincoln had a corking team. They
- had beat the state university, and early in the season they had played
- Chicago off her feet, and they were simply yearning to wipe out the last
- year's disgrace by devastating the Kingstown Athletic Association, which
- is what we called ourselves. And in the meantime both sides goes along
- feeding themselves on small-sized colleges and athletic associations,
- hearing more and more about each other, and getting hungrier and hungrier.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Things looked mighty good for us up to about a week before Thanksgiving.
- Then one day Jerry Coakley turned up missing. We put in 48 hours hunting
- him, and at the end of that time there was a meeting of the whole chivalry
- and citizenry of Kingstown in the opery hall to consider ways and means of
- facing the public calamity. For the whole town was stirred up. The mayor
- himself makes a speech, which is printed in full in the Kingstown <i>Record</i>
- the next day along with a piece that says: 'Whither are we drifting?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “Next day, after practice, Jimmy Dolan is looking pretty blue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Cheer up,' says I, 'Jerry wasn't the whole team.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'He was about a fifth of it,' says Captain Dolan, very sober.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'But the worst was yet to come. The very next day, at practice, a big
- Swede butcher by the name of Lars Olsen, who played right guard, managed
- to break his ankle. This here indignity hit the town so hard that it
- looked for a while like Lars would be mobbed. Some says Lars has sold out
- to the enemy and broke it on purpose, and the Kingstown <i>Record</i> has
- another piece headed: 'Have we a serpent in our midst?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “That night Dolan puts the team in charge of Berty Jones, the Cornell man,
- with orders to take no risks on anything more injurious than signal
- practice, and leaves town. He gets back on Wednesday night, and two guys
- with him. They are hustled from the train to a cab and from the cab to the
- American House, and into their rooms, so fast no one gets a square look at
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But after dinner, which both of the strangers takes in their rooms, Dolan
- says to come up to Mr. Breittmann's room and get acquainted with him,
- which the team done. This here Breittmann is a kind of Austro-Hungarian
- Dutchman looking sort of a great big feller, with a foreign cast of face,
- like he might be a German baron or a Switzer waiter, and he speaks his
- language with an accent. Mr. Rooney, which is the other one's name, ain't
- mentioned at first. But after we talk with the Breittmann person a while
- Jimmy Dolan says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Boys, Mr. Rooney has asked to be excused from meeting any one to-night,
- but you'll all have an opportunity to meet him to-morrow—after the
- game.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'But,' says I, 'Cap, won't he go through signal practice with us?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dolan and Breittmann, and Berty Jones, who was our quarterback and the
- only one in the crowd besides Dolan who had met Mr. Rooney, looked at each
- other and kind of grinned. Then Dolan says: 'Mr. Breittmann knows signals
- and will run through practice with us in the morning, but not Mr. Rooney.
- Mr. Breittmann, boys, used to be on the Yale scrub.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Dem vas goot days, Chimmie,' says this here Breittmann, 'but der
- naturalist, Chimmie, he is also the good days. What?'
- </p>
- <p>
- “The next day, just before the game, I got my first glimpse of this Rooney
- when he come downstairs with Breittmann and they both piled into a cab. He
- wore a long overcoat over his football togs, and he had so many headpieces
- and nose guards and things on to him all you could see of his face was a
- bit of reddish looking whisker at the sides.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'He's Irish by the name,' says 1, 'and the way he carries them shoulders
- and swings his arms he must have learned to play football by carrying the
- hod.' He wasn't a big man, neither, and I thought he handled himself kind
- of clumsy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When we got out to the football field and that Lincoln College bunch
- jumped out of their bus and began to pass the ball around, the very first
- man we see is that there Jerry Coakley.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, sold out!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dolan and me ran over to the Lincoln captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'You don't play that man!' says Dolan, mad as a hornet, pointing at
- Jerry. Jerry, he stood with his arms crossed, grinning and chuckling to
- himself, bold as Abraham Lincoln on the burning deck and built much the
- same.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Why not?' says the college captain, 'he's one of our students.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Him?' says I. 'Why, he's the village truck-driver here!' And that there
- Jerry had the nerve to wink at me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Mr. Coakley matriculated at Lincoln College a week ago,' says the
- captain, Jerry he grinned more and more, and both teams had gathered into
- a bunch around us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Matriculated? Jerry did?' says Jimmy Dolan. 'Why, it's all Jerry can do
- to write his name.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Mr. Coakley is studying the plastic arts, and taking a special course in
- psychology,' says the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Let him play, Dolan,' says Tom Sharp. 'Leave him to me. I'll learn him
- some art. I'll fix him!'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'O, you Tom!' says Jerry, grinning good-natured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'O, you crook!' says Tom. And Jerry, still grinning good-natured, hands
- Tom one. It took the rest of the two teams to separate them, and they both
- started the game with a little blood on their faces. We made no further
- kick about Jerry playing. All our boys wanted him in the game. 'Get him!'
- was the word passed down the line. And after that little mix-up both sides
- was eager to begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We kicked off. I noticed this here Rooney person got down after the
- kick-off rather slow, sticking close to his friend Breittmann. He was at
- left tackle, right, between Breittmann at guard, and Dolan, who played
- end.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jerry, he caught the kick-off and come prancing up the field like a
- prairie whirlwind. But Dolan and me got to him about the same time, and as
- we downed him Tom Sharp, quite accidental, stepped on to his head with
- both feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Foul!' yells the referee, running up and waving his hand at Tom Sharp.
- 'Get off the field, you! I penalize Kingstown thirty yards for deliberate
- foul play!'
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Jerry jumped up—it took more'n a little thing like that to
- feaze Jerry—and shoved the referee aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'No, you don't put him out of this game,' says Jerry. 'I want him in it.
- I'll put him out all right!'
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there was a squabble, that ended with half of both teams ordered off
- the field. And the upshot of which was that everybody on both sides agreed
- to abolish all umpires and referees, and get along without any penalties
- whatever, or any officials but the time-keeper. No, sir, none of us boys
- was in any temper by that time to be interfered with nor dictated to by
- officials.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, what followed wasn't hampered any by technicalities. No, sir, it
- wasn't drop the handkerchief. There wasn't any Hoyle or Spalding or
- Queensberry about it. It was London prize ring, <i>savate</i>, jiu juitsi
- and Græco-Roman, all mixed up, with everybody making his own ground rules.
- The first down, when Tom Sharp picked up that Lincoln College Captain and
- hit Jerry Coakley over the head with him, five Lincoln College substitutes
- give a yell and threw off their sweaters and run on to the field. Then we
- heard another yell, and our substitutes come charging into the fray and by
- the end of the first half there was eighteen men on each side, including
- three in citizens' clothes who were using brass knucks and barrel staves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Joe paused a moment, dwelling internally upon memories evidently too sweet
- for words. Then he sighed and murmured: “No, sir, the game ain't what it
- was in them days. Kick and run and forward pass and such darned
- foolishness! Football has went to the dogs!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” he resumed, flexing his muscles reminiscently, “neither side
- wasted any time on end runs or punts. It was punch the line, and then
- punch the line some more, and during the first ten minutes of play the
- ball didn't move twenty yards either way from the centre of the field,
- with a row on all the time as to whose ball it ought to be. As a matter of
- fact, it was whoever's could keep his hands on to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the third down before I noticed this fellow Rooney particular.
- Then our quarterback sent a play through between guard and tackle. It was
- up to Rooney to make the hole for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As the signal was give, and the ball passed back, Breittmann laid his arm
- across Rooney's shoulders, and I heard him say something in Dutch to him.
- They moved forward like one man, not fast, but determined like. A big
- college duffer tried to get through Rooney and spill the play. This here
- Rooney took him around the waist and slammed him on to the ground with a
- yell like a steamship that's discovered fire in her coal bunkers, and then
- knelt on the remains, while the play went on over 'em. I noticed
- Breittmann had a hard time getting Rooney off of him. They carried the
- fellow off considerably sprained, and two more Lincoln College fellows
- shucked their wraps and run in to take his place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The very next play went through the same hole, only this time the fellow
- that went down under Rooney got up with blood soaking through his shoulder
- padding and swore he'd been bit. But nobody paid any attention to him, and
- the Lincoln boys put Jerry Coakley in opposite Rooney.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'You cross-eyed, pigeon-toed Orangeman of a hod-carrier, you,' says
- Jerry, when we lined up, trying to intimidate Rooney, 'I'll learn you
- football.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Rooney, with his left hand hold of Breittmann's, never said a word.
- He just looked sideways up at Breittmann like he was scared, or mebby shy,
- and Breittmann said something in Dutch to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That play we made five yards, and we made it through Jerry Coakley, too,
- Mr. Rooney officiating. When Breittmann got his friend off Jerry, Jerry
- set up and tried to grin, but he couldn't. He felt himself all over,
- surprised, and took his place in the line without saying a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then we lost the ball on a fumble, which is to say the Lincoln centre
- jumped on to Tom Sharp's wrists with both feet when he tried to pass it,
- and Jerry Coakley grabbed it. The first half closed without a score, with
- the ball still in the centre of the field.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The second half, I could see right away, Jerry Coakley had made up his
- mind to do up Rooney. The very first play Lincoln made was a guard's back
- punch right at Rooney. I reckon the whole Lincoln team was in that play,
- with Jerry Coakley in the van.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We got into it, too. All of us,” Joe paused again, with another
- reflective smile. Pretty soon he continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, that was some scrimmage. And in the midst of it, whoever had
- the ball dropped it. But for a minute, nobody seemed to care. And then we
- discovered that them unsportsmanlike Lincoln College students had changed
- to baseball shoes with metal spikes between the halves. We hadn't thought
- of that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “After about a minute of this mauling, clawing mess, right out of the
- midst of it rolled the ball. And then came this here Rooney crawling after
- it—<i>crawling</i> I say!—on his hands and feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He picked it up and straightened himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Run, Rooney, run!' says I. And he had a clear field. But he didn't seem
- to realize it. He just tucked that ball under one arm, and ambled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Half a dozen of us fell in and tried to make interference for him—but
- he wouldn't run; he just dog-trotted, slow and comfortable. And in a
- second Jerry Coakley sifted through and tackled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rooney stopped. Stopped dead in his track, as if he was surprised. And
- then, using only one hand—only one hand, mind you—he picked
- that there Jerry Coakley up, like he was an infant, give him one squeeze,
- and slung him. Yes, sir, Jerry was all sort of crumpled up when he lit!
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he kept on, slow and easy and gentle. The Lincoln gang spilled the
- interference. But that didn't bother Rooney any. Slow and certain and easy
- he went down that field. And every time he was tackled he separated that
- tackier from himself and treated him like he had Jerry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, he strung behind him ten men out of the nineteen players
- Lincoln College had in that game, as he went down the field. From where I
- was setting on top of the Lincoln centre rush, I counted 'em as he took
- 'em. Slow and solemn and serious like an avenging angel, Mr. Rooney made
- for them goal posts, taking no prisoners, and leaving the wounded and dead
- in a long windrow behind him. It wasn't legalized football, mebby, but it
- was a grand and majestic sight to see that stoop-shouldered feller with
- the red whiskers proceeding calmly and unstoppably forward like the wrath
- of God.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, the game was ours. We thought it was, leastways. All he had to
- do was touch that there ball to the ground! The whole of Kingstown was
- drawing in its breath to let out a cheer as soon as he done it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it never let that yell. For when he reached the goal——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Joe broke off again and chuckled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say,” he said, “you ain't going to believe what I'm telling you now. It's
- too unlikely. I didn't believe it myself when I seen it. But it happened.
- Yes, sir, that nut never touched the ground with the ball!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Instead, with the ball still under one arm, he climbed a goal post.
- Climbed it, I tell you, with both legs and one arm. And setting straddle
- of that cross bar believe me or not, he began to shuck. In front of all
- that crowd, dud after dud, he shucked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there wasn't no cheers then, for in a minute there he set, <i>a
- monkey!</i> Yes, sir, the biggest blamed monkey you ever seen, trying to
- crack that football open on a goal post under the belief that it was a
- cocoa-nut. Monkey, did I say? Monkey ain't any word for it! He was a
- regular ape; he was one of these here orang-outang baboons! Yes, sir, a
- regular gosh-darned Darwinian gorilla!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Joe took a fresh light for his cigar, and cocked his eye again at my
- sporting supplement. “I notice,” he said, sarcastically, “Princeton had a
- couple of men hurt yesterday in the Yale game. Well, accidents is bound to
- happen even in ring-around-the-rosy or prisoner's base. What?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- TOO AMERICAN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>s it a real
- English cottage?” we asked the agent suspiciously, “or is it one that has
- been hastily aged to rent to Americans?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the real thing: he vouched for it. It was right in the middle of
- England. The children could walk for miles in any direction without
- falling off the edge of England and getting wet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here!” I said. “How many blocks from Scotland is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blocks from Scotland?” He didn't understand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” I said, “blocks from Scotland.” I explained. My wife and I had been
- trying to get a real English accent. That was one of the things we had
- come to England for. We wanted to take it back with us and use it in
- Brooklyn, and we didn't want to get too near Scotland and get any Scottish
- dialect mixed up with it. It seemed that the cottage was quite a piece
- from Scotland. There was a castle not far away—the fifteenth castle
- on the right side as you go into England. When there wasn't any wind you
- didn't get a raw sea breeze or hear the ocean vessels whistle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it overgrown with ivy,” asked Marian, my wife.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, it was ivy-covered. You could scarcely see it for ivy—ivy that
- was pulling the wall down, ivy as deep-rooted as the hereditary idea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are the drains bad?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were. There would be no trouble on that score. What plumbing there
- was, was leaky. The roof leaked.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was neither gas nor electricity, nor hot and cold water, nor
- anything else.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose the place is rather damp?” I said to the agent. “Is it chilly
- most of the time? Are the flues defective? Are the floors uneven? Is the
- place thoroughly uncomfortable and unsanitary and unhabitable in every
- particular?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, it had all these advantages. I was about to sign the lease when my
- wife plucked me by the sleeve in her impulsive American way. “Is there a
- bathroom?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mrs. Minever,” said the agent with dignity, “there is not. I can
- assure you that there are no conveniences of any kind. It is a real
- English cottage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I took the place. It was evening of the third day after we took possession
- that I discovered that we had been taken in. All the other Americans in
- that part of England were sitting out in front of their cottages trying to
- look as if they were accustomed to them, and we—my wife and Uncle
- Bainbridge and I—were sitting in front of ours trying to act as
- English as we knew how, when a voice hailed me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are Americans, aren't you, sir?” said the voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice was anyhow; so we shamefacedly confessed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought you looked like it,” said the voice, and its owner came
- wavering toward us through the twilight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What makes you think we look like it?” I said, a trifle annoyed; for it
- had been my delusion that we had got ourselves to looking quite English—English
- enough, at least, so that no one could tell us in the faint light.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Our clothes don't fit us, do they?” asked my wife nervously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They can't fit us,” said I; “they were made in London.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I spoke rather sharply, I suppose. And as I was speaking, a most
- astonishing thing happened—the person I had been speaking to
- suddenly disappeared. He was, and then he was not! I sprang up, and I
- could tell from my wife's exclamation that she was startled, too. As for
- Uncle Bainbridge, he seldom gives way to emotion not directly connected
- with his meals or his money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, you!” I called out loudly, looking about me.
- </p>
- <p>
- The figure came waveringly into view again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you go to?” I demanded. “What do you mean by acting like that?
- Who are you, anyhow?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please, sir,” said the wavery person, “don't speak so crosslike. It
- always makes me vanish. I can't help it, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He continued timidly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard a new American family had moved here and I dropped by to ask you,
- sir, do you need a ghost?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A ghost! Are you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” with a deprecating smile. “Only an American ghost; but one who
- would appreciate a situation all the more, sir, for that reason. I don't
- mind telling you that there's a feeling against us American ghosts here in
- England, and I've been out of a place for some time. Maybe you have
- noticed a similar feeling toward Americans? I'm sure, sir, you must have
- noticed a discrimination, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't say 'sir' all the time,” I told him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beg pardon, sir,” he rejoined: “but it's a habit. I've tried very hard to
- fit myself to English ways and it's got to be second nature, sir. My voice
- I can't change; but my class—I was a barber in America, sir—my
- class I have learned. And,” he repeated rather vacantly, “I just dropped
- by to see if you wanted a ghost. Being fellow Americans, you know, I
- thought——” His voice trailed off into humble silence, and he
- stood twisting a shadowy hat round and round in his fingers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here!” I said. “Should we have a ghost?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beg pardon, sir, but how much rent do you pay?” I told him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He answered politely but with decision, “Then, sir, in all fairness, you
- are entitled to a ghost with the place. It gives a certain tone, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why weren't we given one, then?” I asked
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well——” he said, and paused. If a ghost can blush with
- embarrassment, he blushed. “You see,” he went on, making it as easy for me
- as he could, “English ghosts mostly object to haunting Americans, just as
- American ghosts find it difficult to get places in English houses and
- cottages. You see, sir, we are——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He halted lamely, and then finished, “We're so <i>American</i> somehow,
- sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we've been cheated!” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” said the American ghost, “regularly <i>had</i>” He said it in
- quite an English manner, and I complimented him on his achievement. He
- smiled with a child's delight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would I do?” he urged again, with a kind of timid insistence.
- </p>
- <p>
- My sympathies were with him. “You don't mind children?” I said. “We have
- two.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he replied; “leastways, if they aren't very rough, I am not much
- frightened of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess,” I began, “that——” I was about to say that he would
- do, when my wife interrupted me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We do not want a ghost at all,” she said firmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my dear——”
- </p>
- <p>
- She raised her eyebrows at me, and I was silent. After looking from one to
- the other of us wistfully for a moment, the applicant turned and drifted
- away, vanishing dejectedly when he reached the gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You heard what he said, Henry?” said my wife as he disappeared. “It is
- lucky that you have me by you! Do you want to saddle yourself with an
- American ghost? For my part, I will have an English ghost or none!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I realized that Marian was right; but I felt sorry for the ghost.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did—the fellow—want?” roared Uncle Bain-bridge, who is
- deaf, and brings out his words two or three at a time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wanted to know—if we wanted—a ghost!” I roared in reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Goat? Goat? Huh-huh!” shouted Uncle Bain-bridge. “No, sir! Get 'em a pony—and
- a cart—little cart! That's the best—thing—for the kids!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Bainbridge is, in fact, so deaf that he is never bothered by the
- noises he makes when he eats. As a rule when you speak to him he first
- says, “How?” Then he produces a kind of telephone arrangement. He plugs
- one end into his ear, and shoves a black rubber disk at you. You talk
- against the disk, and when he disagrees with you he pulls the plug out of
- his ear to stop your foolish chatter, and snorts contemptuously. Once my
- wife remarked to me that Uncle Bainbridge's hearing might be better if he
- would only cut those bunches of long gray hair out of his ears. They annoy
- every one except Uncle Bainbridge a great deal. But the plug was in, after
- all, and he heard her, and asked one of the children in a terrible voice
- to fetch him the tin box he keeps his will in.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Bainbridge is <i>my</i> uncle. My wife reminds me of that every now
- and then. And he is rather hard to live with. But Marian, in spite of his
- little idiosyncrasies, has always been generous enough to wish to protect
- him from designing females only too ready to marry him for his money. So
- she encourages him to make his home with us. If he married at all, she
- preferred that he should marry her cousin, Miss Sophia Calderwod. That was
- also Miss Sophia's preference.
- </p>
- <p>
- We did get a ghost, however, and a real English ghost. The discovery was
- mine. I was sitting in the room we called the library one night, alone
- with my pipe, when I heard a couple of raps in, on, about, or behind a
- large bookcase that stood diagonally across one corner. It was several
- days after we had refused the American applicant, and I had been thinking
- of him more or less, and wondering what sort of existence he led. One half
- the world doesn't know how the other half lives. I suppose my reflections
- had disposed my mind to psychic receptivity; for when I heard raps I said
- at once:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are there any good spirits in the room?” It is a formula I remembered
- from the days when I had been greatly interested in psychic research.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rap! rap! came the answer from behind the bookcase.
- </p>
- <p>
- I made a tour of the room, and satisfied myself that it was not a flapping
- curtain, or anything like that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you have a message for me?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- The answer was in the affirmative.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a confused and rapid jumble of raps. I repeated the question
- with the same result.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you materialize?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The ghost rapped no.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then it occurred to me that probably this was a ghost of the sort that can
- communicate with the visible world only through replying to such questions
- as can be answered by yes or no. There are a great many of these ghosts.
- Indeed, my experience in psychic research has led me to the conclusion
- that they are in the majority.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were you sent down by the agent to take this place?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” It is impossible to convey in print the suggestion of hauteur and
- offended dignity and righteous anger that the ghost managed to get into
- that single rap. I have never felt more rebuked in my life; I have never
- been made to feel more American.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir or madam,” I said, letting the regret I felt be apparent in my voice,
- “I beg your pardon. If you please, I should like to know whose ghost you
- are. I will repeat the alphabet. You may rap when you wish me to stop at a
- letter. In that way you can spell out your information. Is that
- satisfactory?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Slowly, and with the assured raps of one whose social position is defined,
- fixed, and secure in whatever state of existence she may chance to find
- herself, the ghost spelled out, “Lady Agatha Pelham.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I hope I am not snobbish. Indeed, I think I have proved over and over
- again that I am not, by frankly confessing that I am an American. But at
- the same time I could not repress a little exclamation of pleasure at the
- fact that we were haunted by the ghost of a member of the English
- aristocracy. You may say what you will, but there is a certain something—a
- manner—an air—I scarcely know how to describe it, but it is
- there; it exists. In England, one meets it so often—I hope you take
- me.
- </p>
- <p>
- My gratification must have revealed itself in my manner. Lady Agatha
- rapped out, if anything with more haughtiness than she had previously
- employed—yes, even with a touch of defiance:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was at one time a governess.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I gradually learned that while her own family was as good as the Pelham
- family, Lady Agatha's parents had been in very reduced circumstances, and
- she had had to become a governess. When Sir Arthur Pelham had married her,
- his people acted very nasty. He hadn't any money, and they had wanted him
- to marry some. He got to treating her very badly before he died. And
- during his lifetime, and after it, Lady Agatha had had a very sad life
- indeed. Still, you know, she was an aristocrat. She made one feel that as
- she told her story bit by bit. For all this came very gradually, as the
- result of many conversations, and not at once. We speedily agreed upon a
- code, very similar to the Morse telegraphic code, and we still further
- abbreviated this, until our conversations, after a couple of weeks, got to
- be as rapid as that of a couple of telegraph operators chatting over the
- wires. I intimated that it must be rather rough on her to be haunting
- Americans, and she said that she had once lived in our cottage and liked
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of her aristocracy, I don't suppose there ever was a more
- domestic sort of ghost than Lady Agatha. We all got quite fond of her, and
- I think she did of us, too, in spite of our being American. Even the
- children got into the habit of taking their little troubles and
- perplexities to her. And Marian used to say that with Lady Agatha in the
- house, when Uncle Bain-bridge and I happened to be away, she felt so <i>safe</i>
- somehow.
- </p>
- <p>
- I imagine the fact that she had once been a governess would have made it
- rather difficult for Lady Agatha in the house of an English family of
- rank. On the other hand, her inherent aristocratic feeling made it quite
- impossible for her to haunt any one belonging to the middle or lower
- classes. She could haunt us, as Americans, and not feel that the social
- question mattered so much, in spite of what the American ghost had hinted.
- We Americans are so unclassified that the English often take chances with
- individuals, quite regardless of what each individual's class would
- naturally be if he had a class. Even while they do this they make us feel
- very often that we are hopelessly American; but they do it, and I, for
- one, am grateful. Lady Agatha sympathized with our desire to become as
- English as possible, she could quite understand that. I find that many
- Englishmen approve the effort, although remaining confident that it will
- end in failure.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Agatha helped us a great deal. We used to have lessons in the
- evenings in the library. For instance, the children would stand at
- attention in front of the bookcase, and repeat a bit of typical English
- slang, trying to do it in an absolutely English way. They would do it over
- and over and over, until finally Lady Agatha would give a rap of approval.
- Or I would pretend that I was an Englishman in a railway carriage, and
- that an American had just entered and I was afraid he would speak to me. I
- got rather good at this, and made two or three trips to London to try it
- out. I found that Americans were imposed on, and actually in one instance
- I made one Englishman think that I was an Englishman who thought he was an
- American. He was a nobody, however, and didn't really count. And then, I
- am afraid, I spoiled it all. We Americans so often spoil it all! I enjoyed
- it so that I told him. He looked startled and said, “But how American!” He
- was the only Englishman I ever fooled.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Lady Agatha's night classes were of great benefit to us. We used to
- practise how to behave toward English servants at country houses, and how
- to act when presented at court, and dozens of things like that: not that
- we had been asked to a country house, or expected to be presented at court
- soon. Marian and I had agreed that the greater part of this information
- would be quite useless while Uncle Bainbridge was still spared to us. Even
- in Brooklyn Uncle Bainbridge had been something of a problem at times. But
- we thought it just as well to prepare ourselves for the sad certainty that
- Uncle Bainbridge would pass into a better world before many years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Bainbridge, who is very wealthy indeed, affects more informality
- than the usual self-made man. He used to attend our evening classes with a
- contemptuous expression upon his face, and snort at intervals. Once he
- even called me “Puppy!” Then he thrust his telephone arrangement before my
- face and insisted that I tell him whether I was sane or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Puppy!” he bellowed. “Quit apin' the English! I get along with 'em myself—without
- any nonsense! Treat 'em white! Always treat me white! No foolishness!
- Puppy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- My wife and I soon discovered that Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge were
- on the most friendly terms. He would sit for hours in the library, with
- his telephone receiver held patiently near the bookcase, shouting
- questions and smiling and nodding over the answers. Marian and I were
- afraid that Uncle Bainbridge, by his lack of polish, might offend Lady
- Agatha. And at first it was her custom to hover about anxiously while they
- were talking to each other. But Uncle Bainbridge discovered this, and
- resented it to such an extent that she had to be cautious indeed.
- </p>
- <p>
- His talks with Lady Agatha became longer and longer, and more and more
- frequent, until finally he received more of her attention than all the
- rest of us put together. Indeed, we need not have worried about Uncle
- Bainbridge's offending Lady Agatha: the friendship grew closer and closer.
- We were certain finally that it was taking on a strong tinge of
- sentimentality. One day my wife stopped me just outside the library door
- and said in a whisper, indicating the general direction of Lady Agatha's
- bookcase with a wave of her hand:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henry, those two old things in there are calling each other Hiram and
- Agatha!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I listened, and it was so. A week later I heard Uncle Bainbridge seated by
- the bookcase, bellowing out a sentimental song. He was having a great deal
- of difficulty with it, and in order that he might hear himself he was
- singing with the black disk arrangement held directly in front of his own
- mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- I cannot say that Uncle Bainbridge became etherealized by the state of his
- feelings toward Lady Agatha, whatever the exact state of his feeling may
- have been. But he did change a little, and the change was for the better.
- He cut out the bunches of gray hair from his ears, and he began to take
- care of his fingernails. Lady Agatha was having a good influence upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- One day, as he and I were standing by the front gate, he suddenly
- connected himself for speech and roared at me, with a jerk of his thumb
- toward the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fine woman!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” I shouted back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aggie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, yes. I suppose she—was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No nonsense!” he yelled. “Husband was a brute! Marry her myself! In a
- minute—if possible. Ain't possible! Shame! Bet she could make—good
- dumplings—apple dumplings! Huh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Bainbridge is very fond of apple dumplings. His final test of a
- woman is her ability to make good apple dumplings. Several women might
- have married him had they been able to pass that examination. He can pay
- no higher compliment to a woman than to be willing to believe her able to
- make good dumplings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aggie, in there!” he roared again, impatient because I was slow in
- answering. “Dumplings! That kind of woman—could have made—good
- dumplings!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt, somehow, that it was going a bit too far to imagine Lady Agatha at
- so plebeian a task as making apple dumplings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Bainbridge,” I shouted, “the upper classes—in England—can't
- make—apple dumplings!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Even as I shouted I was aware that some bypasser, startled at our loud
- voices, was pausing just outside the gate. I turned to encounter for a
- moment the haughty glare of the most English-looking elderly woman I have
- ever seen. She had a large, high nose, and she was a large, high-looking
- handsome woman generally. She said no word to me; but as she stared her
- lips moved ever so slightly. I fancied that to herself she said, “Indeed!”
- I have never felt more utterly superfluous, more abjectly American. She
- turned from me with an air that denied my existence, a manner that
- indicated that such things as I <i>could not</i> exist, and it would be
- foolish to try to make her believe they did exist. She bowed to Uncle
- Bainbridge, smiled as he returned her bow, and passed on. Uncle
- Bainbridge's eyes followed her admiringly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Mother fine woman!” he thundered, so that she must have heard him.
- “Friend of mine! Sensible woman! No frills!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I tried to ask him who she was, when and where he had become acquainted
- with her, and a dozen other questions; but Uncle Bainbridge unplugged
- himself, cutting off all communication with the outer world, and
- resolutely refused any information. That he should know the lady did not
- surprise me, however. It had happened several times since we had been in
- England that Uncle Bainbridge had become friendly with people whom we did
- not know. We never got from him any exact idea as to the social status of
- these persons, and indeed we always found that he had no really definite
- ideas on that subject to communicate.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our dear Lady Agatha was almost the only English friend my wife and I had
- made.
- </p>
- <p>
- My wife and I were very well contented that Uncle Bainbridge's feeling for
- Lady Agatha should grow stronger and stronger. We argued that while he was
- so intimately friendly with dear Lady Agatha he would not be so likely to
- fall a prey to any person who might want to marry him for his wealth. So
- we decided to encourage the friendship in every way possible, and would
- have been only too glad to have it go on indefinitely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel so at peace about Uncle Bainbridge now,” was the way my wife
- expressed it, “with him and dear Lady Agatha so wrapped up in each other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But this cheerful condition of affairs was not destined to last many
- weeks. One day my wife received a letter from her cousin, Miss Sophia
- Calderwood. Cousin Sophia was in London, and would be with us on the
- coming Saturday. She had spoken of the possibility of paying us a visit
- while we were in England, and of course we had urged her to do so;
- although at the time the possibility had seemed rather remote to us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sophia was past her first youth, but still very girlish at times.
- Under her girlishness there was a grim determination. She had made up her
- mind to marry Uncle Bainbridge. My wife, as I have already said, had been
- inclined to favour the idea, since it would keep strangers from getting
- hold of Uncle Bainbridge's money. But now that Uncle Bainbridge and Lady
- Agatha were getting along so well together my wife had begun to hope that
- Uncle Bainbridge would never marry anybody. We both thought the friendship
- might become an ideal, but none the less overmastering, passion; one of
- those sacred things, you know, of the sort that keeps a man single all his
- life. If Uncle Bainbridge remained unmarried out of regard for Lady
- Agatha, we agreed, it would be much better for him at his time of life
- than to wed Miss Sophia.
- </p>
- <p>
- So we both considered Miss Sophia's visit rather inopportune. Not that we
- felt that Uncle Bainbridge was predisposed toward her. On the contrary, he
- had always manifested more fear than affection for her. But, I repeat, she
- was a determined woman. The quality of her determination needed no better
- evidence than the fact that she had, to put it vulgarly, pursued her
- quarry across the seas. It was evident that the citadel of Uncle
- Bainbridge's heart was to undergo a terrible assault. As for him, when he
- heard she was coming, he only emitted a noncommittal snort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sophia, when she arrived, had apparently put in the months since we
- had seen her in resolute attempts at rejuvenation. She was more girlish
- than I had known her in fifteen years. And she had set up a lisp. She
- greeted Uncle Bainbridge impulsively, effusively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dear man,” she shrilled into his telephone, “you don't detherve it,
- but gueth what I've brought you all the way acroth the ocean! A new
- rethipe for apple dumplings!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” said Uncle Bainbridge. “What say?” And when she repeated it he said
- “Umph!” disconnected himself, and blew his nose loudly. He rarely said
- anything to her but “Umph!” walking away afterward with now and then a
- worried backward glance.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we told Miss Sophia about Lady Agatha, and she finally understood the
- intimacy that had grown up between Lady Agatha and Uncle Bainbridge, she
- looked reproachfully at my wife, as if to say, “You have been a traitor to
- my cause!” And then she announced very primly, quite forgetting her lisp,
- “I am quite sure that I, for one, do not care to make the acquaintance of
- this person!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cousin Sophia,” said my wife sharply, “what do you mean by that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think, Cousin Marian, that my meaning is sufficiently clear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You forget,” rejoined my wife icily, “that dear Lady Agatha is our
- guest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sophia sniffed, and was silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides,” continued Marian, “what can you possibly have against her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marian,” said Miss Sophia, “will you answer me one question?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps, Cousin Sophia.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cousin Marian, where, I ask you, <i>where</i> is Sir Arthur Pelham?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?” My wife was genuinely puzzled by
- the question, and so was I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly!” And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. “How should you know? I
- imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the
- circumstances, has not been very communicative.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Cousin Sophia——” I began.
- </p>
- <p>
- She interrupted me. “Cousin Henry,” she said, “do you mean to say that you
- approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married woman
- entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady Agatha
- Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are
- susceptible when skillfully practised upon—especially with arts
- which I have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry,
- shameless! If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see
- that the children were sent back to America before they become
- contaminated by this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been
- so corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous
- relationship!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia,” I ventured, “and for the
- life of me I cannot see anything wrong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am bound
- to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur had been
- alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady Agatha forming
- any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir Arthur had been
- in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, she would have
- exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a close friendship
- with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and Lady Agatha were in
- the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir Arthur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aristocrat or not,” she said, “she is indelicate, she is unladylike, she
- is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to whom
- she is not married.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!” said my wife, white with
- anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such a
- brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course,” said Cousin
- Sophia.
- </p>
- <p>
- I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to the
- winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she might as
- well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my wife is her
- only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be permanent;
- for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far many times
- before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got over their
- temper.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sophia, although certain now that she would receive no assistance
- from my wife in her siege of Uncle Bainbridge, did not swerve from her
- determination to subjugate him. I imagine it is rather difficult to give
- battle when your rival is a ghost: the very intangibility of the tie makes
- it hard to attack. Yet the person who is in the earth life has certain
- advantages also. I do not know whether I have mentioned it or not, but
- Miss Sophia could scarcely be called beautiful. One after another, all her
- life, she had seen men upon whom she had set her affection become the
- husbands of other women, and in her duel with the ghost there was a
- quality of desperation that made the struggle, every move of which I
- watched, extremely interesting. In spite of her announcement that she did
- not care to meet Lady Agatha, she learned the code by which she
- communicated with us, and did not absent herself from our gatherings in
- the library.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sophia must have been desperate indeed, or she would not have
- resorted to the trick she used. About a week after Miss Sophia's arrival
- Lady Agatha suddenly ceased to communicate with us. We grew alarmed,
- wondering what could have happened to her, as the days passed and the
- friendly rappings were not resumed. In the light of what happened later I
- am sure that Miss Sophia deliberately drove Lady Agatha away. What method
- she used I do not know. But if she had said to Lady Agatha directly the
- things that she had said to us about her, the insult would have been quite
- sufficient to make that proud and gentle spirit take her departure. Likely
- Miss Sophia got into communication with Lady Agatha and hurled at her the
- bitter question, “Where is Sir Arthur Pelham?” Lady Agatha was not the
- person to enter into any vulgar quarrel, nor yet to vouchsafe explanations
- concerning her personal affairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Several days after Lady Agatha fell silent I heard Uncle Bainbridge
- bellowing forth questions in the library. I was outside the house near the
- library window, which was open. Thinking joyously that Lady Agatha had
- returned to us, I stepped nearer to the window to make sure. I saw at
- once, as I peeped in, that the bookcase, which set very near the window,
- had been slightly moved. Miss Sophia, who was very thin, had managed to
- introduce herself into the triangular space behind it—I had
- mentioned that it set diagonally across one corner. She was crouched upon
- the floor rapping out a conversation with Uncle Bainbridge—impersonating
- Lady Agatha! Uncle Bainbridge, in front of the bookcase, was apparently
- unsuspicious; nor did Miss Sophia suspect that I saw her through the
- half-inch of window that commanded her hiding place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must marry!” rapped Miss Sophia, in the character of Lady Agatha.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” bellowed Uncle Bainbridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Sophia Calderwood,” said the fake ghost.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aggie, I'm hanged if I do!” yelled Uncle Bainbridge. “Ask me—something—easy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hiram, listen carefully,” began the false Lady Agatha. Then she told him
- that this would be their last interview. Circumstances over which she had
- no control compelled her to depart. She was to assume another phase of
- existence upon another plane. She could not explain to him so that he
- would understand. But her interest in him would never flag. And she knew
- that he would be happier wedded to some good woman. It was apparent to her
- that Miss Sophia would make him the ideal wife. He would soon learn to
- love Miss Sophia. She had considerable difficulty in getting the promise;
- but finally Uncle Bainbridge snorted out a pledge that he would marry, and
- stumped away.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night he went to London. It was a week before he returned. I did not
- communicate what I had seen and heard to Marion. The truth was, I felt
- rather sorry for Miss Sophia. To resort to such a trick she must have been
- desperate indeed. I tried to imagine what her life had been, and not
- condemn her too harshly. And besides, if she was to marry Uncle
- Bainbridge, which seemed settled now, I did not care to have her aware
- that I knew her secret.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the absence of Uncle Bainbridge she became quietly radiant, as
- befits one who knows that the battle is won. She was evidently certain
- that he would speak definitely upon his return.
- </p>
- <p>
- The night that he came back he gathered us all about him in the library.
- “Something to say! Important!” he shouted.
- </p>
- <p>
- We all assumed attitudes of attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thinking maybe—get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge. It was just
- like Uncle Bainbridge to announce the matter in the lady's presence before
- having formally asked her; but I felt that it was a trifle hard on Miss
- Sophia. But a glance at her reassured me on that score. She was flushed;
- but it was the flush of triumph rather than the flush of embarrassment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bought a brewery!” said Uncle Bainbridge. “Good brewery! Good beer! Like
- English beer! Like English people!”
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 felt that this was a little irrelevant, and I am sure that Miss Sophia
- felt the same way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bought a castle!” said Uncle Bainbridge, warming to the work. “Fine
- castle! Like castles! Fix it up! Live in it! Settle here! Like England!
- Fine country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A castle! Oh, how lovely!” shrilled Miss Sophia, clapping her hands
- girlishly. “How lovely for all of us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not invited!” roared Uncle Bainbridge, taking us all in with one sweeping
- gesture. “None of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was silence for a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Going to get married!” said Uncle Bainbridge, rising to his feet. “Not
- Sophia! Caught Sophia—behind bookcase! Knew all the time! Sneaky
- trick! Marry fine woman! Henry saw her—over the fence that day! Fine
- woman! Curate's mother here! Dumplings! Fine dumplings! Learned to make
- 'em for me! She don't want—to get too thick—with any my
- relations! She says—all of you—are too American!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And as Uncle Bainbridge blew his nose loudly and sat down there was a
- sudden rattle of rapping from the bookcase: nothing so articulate as a
- remark in the code, but a sound more like a ripple of well-bred laughter.
- This was the last we ever heard from Lady Agatha, and I have sometimes
- wondered just what she meant by it. It is so hard, sometimes, to
- understand just what the English are laughing at.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE SADDEST MAN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he bench, the
- barrel, and the cracker box in front of Hennery McNabb's general store
- held three men, all of whom seemed to be thinking. Two of them were not
- only thinking but chewing tobacco as well. The third, more enterprising
- than the other two, more active, was exerting himself prodigiously. He was
- thinking, chewing tobacco, and whittling all at the same time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two of the men were native and indigenous to Hazel-ton. They drew their
- sustenance from the black soil of the Illinois prairie on which the little
- village was perched. They were as calm and placid as the growing corn in
- the fields round about, as solid and self-possessed and leisurely as the
- bull-heads in the little creek down at the end of Main Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- The third man was a stranger, somewhere between six and eight feet high
- and so slender that one might have expected the bones to pop through the
- skin, if one's attention had not been arrested by the skin itself. For he
- was covered and contained by a most peculiar skin. It was dark and
- rubbery-looking rather than leathery, and it seemed to be endowed with a
- life of its own almost independent of the rest of the man's anatomy. When
- a fly perched upon his cheek he did not raise his hand to brush it off.
- The man himself did not move at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- But his skin moved. His skin rose up, wrinkled, twitched, rippled beneath
- the fly's feet, and the fly took alarm and went away from there as if an
- earthquake had broken loose under it. He was a sad-looking man. He looked
- sadder than the mummy of an Egyptian king who died brooding on what a long
- dry spell lay ahead of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was this third man of whom the other two men were thinking, this
- melancholy stranger who sat and stared through the thick, humid heat of
- the July day at nothing at all, with grievous eyes, his ego motionless
- beneath the movements of his rambling skin. He had driven up the road
- thirty minutes before in a flivver, had bought some chewing tobacco of
- Hennery McNabb, and had set himself down in front of the store and chewed
- tobacco in silence ever since.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally Ben Grevis, the village grave-digger and janitor of the church,
- broke through the settled stillness with a question:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mister,” he said, “you ain't done nothing you're afraid of being arrested
- for, hev you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger slowly turned his head toward Ben and made a negative sign.
- He did not shake his head in negation. He moved the skin of his forehead
- from left to right and back again three or four times. And his eyebrows
- moved as his skin moved. But his eyes remained fixed and melancholy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sometimes,” suggested Hennery McNabb, who had almost tired himself out
- whittling, “a man's system needs overhaulin', same as a horse's needs
- drenchin'. I don't aim to push my goods on to no man, but if you was
- feelin' anyway sick, inside or out, I got some of Splain's Liniment for
- Man and Beast in there that might fix you up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't sick,” said the stranger, in a low and gentle voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never seen many fellers that looked as sad as you do,” volunteered Ben
- Grevis. “There was a mighty sad-lookin' tramp, that resembled you in the
- face some, was arrested here for bein' drunk eight or nine years ago, only
- he wasn't as tall as you an' his skin was different. After Si Emery, our
- city marshal, had kep' him in the lock-up over Sunday and turned him loose
- again, it come to light he was wanted over in I'way for killin' a feller
- with a piece of railroad iron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't killed anybody with any railroad iron over in I'way,” said the
- lengthy man. And he added, with a sigh: “Nor nowheres else, neither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hennery McNabb, who disagreed with everyone on principle—he was the
- Village Atheist, and proud of it—addressed himself to Ben Grevis.
- “This feller ain't nigh as sad-lookin' as that tramp looked,” said
- Hennery. “I've knowed any number of fellers sadder-lookin' than this
- feller here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't say this feller here was the saddest-lookin' feller I ever
- seen,” said Ben Grevis. “All I meant was that he is sadder-lookin' than
- the common run of fellers.” While Hennery disagreed with all the world,
- Ben seldom disagreed with any one but Hennery. They would argue by the
- hour, on religious matters, always beginning with Hennery's challenge:
- “Ben Grevis, tell me just one thing if you can, <i>where</i> did Cain get
- his wife?” and always ending with Ben's statement: “I believe the Book
- from kiver to kiver.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The tall man with the educated skin—it was educated, very evidently,
- for with a contraction of the hide on the back of his hand he nonchalantly
- picked up a shaving that had blown his way—spoke to Ben and Hennery
- in the soft and mild accents that seemed habitual to him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you two see sadder-lookin' fellers than I be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Over in Indianny,” said Hennery, “there's a man so sad that you're one of
- these here laughin' jackasses 'longside o' him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, being encouraged, Hennery proceeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- This here feller (said Hennery McNabb) lived over in Brown County,
- Indianny, but he didn't come from there original. He come from down in
- Kentucky some-wheres and his name was Peevy, Bud Peevy. He was one of them
- long, lank fellers, like you, stranger, but he wasn't as long and his skin
- didn't sort o' wander around and wag itself like it was a tail.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was from the mountain districts he come. I was visitin' a brother of
- mine in the county-seat town of Brown County then, and this Bud Peevy was
- all swelled up with pride when I first knowed him. He was proud of two
- things. One was that he was the champeen corn-licker drinker in Kentucky.
- It was so he give himself out. And the other thing he was prouder yet of.
- It was the fact, if fact it was, that he was the Decidin' Vote in a
- national election—that there election you all remember, the first
- time Bryan run for President and McKinley was elected.
- </p>
- <p>
- This here Bud Peevy, you understand, wasn't really sad when I first knowed
- him: he only <i>looked</i> sad. His sadness that matched his innard
- feelin's up to his outward looks come on to him later. He was all-fired
- proud when I first knowed him. He went expandin' and extendin' of himself
- around everywheres tellin' them Indianny people how it was him, personal,
- that elected McKinley and saved the country from that there free-silver
- ruination. And the fuller he was of licker, the longer he made this here
- story, and the fuller, as you might say, of increditable strange events.
- </p>
- <p>
- Accordin' to him, on that election day in 1896 he hadn't planned to go and
- vote, for it was quite a ways to the polls from his place and his horse
- had fell lame and he didn't feel like walkin'. He figgered his district
- would go safe for McKinley, anyhow, and he wouldn't need to vote. He was a
- strong Republican, and when a Kentuckian is a Republican there ain't no
- stronger kind.
- </p>
- <p>
- But along about four o'clock in the afternoon a man comes ridin' up to his
- house with his horse all a lather of foam and sweat, and the horse was one
- of these here Kentucky thoroughbred race horses that must 'a' travelled
- nigh a mile a minute, to hear Bud Peevy tell of it, and that horse gives
- one groan like a human bein' and falls dead at Bud Peevy's feet afore the
- rider can say a word, and the rider is stunned.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Bud Peevy knowed him for a Republican county committeeman, and he
- poured some corn licker down his throat and he revived to life again. The
- feller yells to Bud as soon as he can get his breath to go to town and
- vote, quick, as the polls will close in an hour, and everybody else in
- that district has voted but Bud, and everyone has been kep' track of, and
- the vote is a tie.
- </p>
- <p>
- It's twelve miles to the pollin' place from Bud's farm in the hills and it
- is a rough country, but Bud strikes out runnin' acrost hills and valleys
- with three pints of corn licker in his pockets for to refresh himself from
- time to time. Bud, he allowed he was the best runner in Kentucky, and he
- wouldn't 'a' had any trouble, even if he did have to run acrost mountains
- and hurdle rocks, to make the twelve miles in an hour, but there was a lot
- of cricks and rivers in that country and there had been a gosh-a-mighty
- big rain the night before and all them cricks had turned into rivers and
- all them rivers had turned into roarin' oceans and Niagara catarac's. But
- Bud, he allows he is the best swimmer in Kentucky, and when he comes to a
- stream he takes a swig of corn licker and jumps in and swims acrost, boots
- and all—for he was runnin' in his big cowhides, strikin' sparks of
- fire from the mountains with every leap he made.
- </p>
- <p>
- Five times he was shot at by Democrats in the first six miles, and in the
- seventh mile the shootin' was almost continual, and three or four times he
- was hit, but he kep' on. It seems the Democrats had got wind he had been
- sent for to turn the tide and a passel of 'em was out among the hills with
- rifles to stop him if they could. But he is in too much of a hurry to
- bandy words with 'em, and he didn't have his gun along, which he
- regretted, he says, as he is the best gun fighter in Kentucky and he keeps
- on a-runnin' and a-swimmin' and a-jumpin' cricks and a-hurdlin' rocks with
- the bullets whizzin' around him and the lightnin' strikin' in his path,
- for another big storm had come up, and no power on this here earth could
- head him off, he says, for it come to him like a Voice from on High he was
- the preordained messenger and hero who was goin' to turn the tide and save
- the country from this here free-silver ruination. About two miles from the
- pollin' place, jist as he jumps into the last big river, two men plunges
- into the water after him with dirks, and one of them he gets quick, but
- the other one drags Bud under the water, stabbin' and jabbin' at him.
- There is a terrible stabbin' and stickin' battle way down under the water,
- which is runnin' so fast that big stones the size of a cow is being rolled
- down stream, but Bud he don't mind the stones, and he can swim under water
- as well as on top of it, he says, and he's the best knife fighter in
- Kentucky, he says, and he soon fixes that feller and swims to shore with
- his knife in his teeth, and now he's only got one more mountain to cross.
- </p>
- <p>
- But a kind of hurricane has sprung up and turned into a cyclone in there
- among the hills, and as he goes over the top of that last mountain,
- lickety-split, in the dark and wind and rain, he blunders into a whole
- passel of rattlesnakes that has got excited by the elements. But he fit
- his way through 'em, thankin' God he had nearly a quart of licker left to
- take for the eight or ten bites he got, and next there rose up in front of
- him two of them big brown bears, and they was wild with rage because the
- storm had been slingin' boulders at 'em. One of them bears he sticked with
- his knife and made short work of, but the other one give him quite a
- tussel, Bud says, afore he conquered it and straddled it. And it was a
- lucky thing for him, he says, that he caught that bear in time, for he was
- gittin' a leetle weak with loss of blood and snake bites and battlin' with
- the elements. Bud, he is the best rider in Kentucky, and it wasn't thirty
- seconds afore that bear knowed a master was a-ridin' of it, and in five
- minutes more Bud, he gallops up to that pollin' place, right through the
- heart of the hurricane, whippin' that bear with rattlesnakes to make it go
- faster, and he jumps off and cracks his boot heels together and gives a
- yell and casts the decidin' vote into the ballot box. He had made it with
- nearly ten seconds to spare.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, accordin' to Bud Peevy that there one vote carries the day for
- McKinley in that county and not only in that county alone, but in that
- electorial district, and that electorial district gives McKinley the State
- of Kentucky, which no Republican had ever carried Kentucky for President
- for afore. And two or three other States was hangin' back keepin' their
- polls open late to see how Kentucky would go, and when it was flashed by
- telegraph all over the country that Bud Peevy was carryin' Kentucky for
- McKinley, them other States joined in with Kentucky and cast their
- electorial votes that-a-way, too, and McKinley was elected President.
- </p>
- <p>
- So Bud figgers he has jist naturally elected that man President and saved
- the country—he is the one that was the Decidin' Vote for this whole
- derned republic. And, as I said, he loves to tell about it. It was in 1896
- that Bud saved the country and it was in 1900 that he moved to Brown
- County, Indianny, and started in with his oratin' about what a great man
- he was, and givin' his political opinions about this, that and the other
- thing, like he might 'a' been President himself. Bein' the Decidin' Vote
- that-a-way made him think he jist about run this country with his ideas.
- </p>
- <p>
- He's been hangin' around the streets in his new home, the county town of
- Brown County, for five or six weeks, in the summer of 1900, tellin' what a
- great feller he is, and bein' admired by everybody, when one day the news
- comes that the U. S. Census for 1900 has been pretty nigh finished, and
- that the Centre of Population for the whole country falls in Brown County.
- Well, you can understand that's calculated to make folks in that county
- pretty darned proud.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the proudest of them all was a feller by the name of Ezekiel
- Humphreys. It seems these here government sharks had it figgered out that
- the centre of population fell right on to where this here Zeke Humphrey's
- farm was, four or five miles out of town.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Zeke, he figgers that he, himself, personal, has become the Centre of
- Population.
- </p>
- <p>
- Zeke hadn't never been an ambitious man. He hadn't never gone out and
- courted any glory like that, nor schemed for it nor thought of it. But he
- was a feller that thought well enough of himself, too. He had been a
- steady, hard-workin' kind of man all his life, mindin' his own business
- and payin' his debts, and when this here glory comes to him, bein' chose
- out of ninety millions of people, as you might say, to be the one and only
- Centre of Population, he took it as his just due and was proud of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see how the office seeks the man, if the man is worthy of it!” says
- Zeke. And everybody liked Zeke that knowed him, and was glad of his glory.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, one day this here Decidin' Vote, Bud Peevy, comes to town to fill
- himself up on licker and tell how he saved the country, and he is
- surprised because he don't get nobody to listen to him. And pretty soon he
- sees the reason for it. There's a crowd of people on Main Street all
- gathered around Zeke Humphreys and all congratulatin' him on being the
- Centre of Population. And they was askin' his opinion on politics and
- things. Zeke is takin' it modest and sensible, but like a man that knowed
- he deserved it, too. Bud Peevy, he listens for a while, and he sniffs and
- snorts, but nobody pays any 'tention to him. Finally, he can't keep his
- mouth shut any longer, and he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Politics! Politics! To hear you talk, a fellow'd think you really got a
- claim to talk about politics!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Zeke, he never was any trouble hunter, but he never run away from it,
- neither.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mebby,” says Zeke, not het up any, but right serious and determined-like,
- “mebby you got more claim to talk about politics than I have?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shore have,” says Bud Peevy. “I reckon I got more claim to be hearkened
- to about politics than any other man in this here whole country. I'm the
- Decidin' Vote of this here country, I am!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, gosh-ding my melts!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You ain't proud of
- yourself, nor nothin', are you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No prouder nor what I got a right to be,” says Bud Peevy, “considerin'
- what I done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, you be!” says Zeke Humphreys. “You been proudin' yourself around
- here for weeks now all on account o' that decidin' vote business. And <i>anybody</i>
- might 'a' been a Decidin' Vote. A Decidin' Vote don't amount to nothin'
- 'longside a Centre of Population.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where would your derned population be if I hadn't went and saved this
- here country for 'em?” asks Bud Peevy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be?” says Zeke. “They'd be right where they be now, if you'd never been
- born nor heard tell on, that's where they'd be. And I'd be the centre of
- 'em, jist like I be now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what <i>air</i> you now?” says Bud Peevy, mighty mean and
- insultin'-like. “You ain't nothin' but a accident, you ain't! What I got,
- I fit for and I earnt. But you ain't nothin' but a happenin'!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Them seemed like mighty harsh words to Zeke, for he figgered his glory was
- due to him on account of the uprighteous life he always led, and so he
- says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mister, anybody that says I ain't nothin' but a happenin' is a liar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “1 kin lick my weight in rattlesnakes,” yells Bud Peevy, “and I've done it
- afore this! And I tells you once again, and flings it in your face, that
- you ain't nothin' but a accidental happenin'!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a liar, then!” says Zeke.
- </p>
- <p>
- With that Bud Peevy jerks his coat off and spits on to his hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Set yo'self, man,” says he; “the whirlwind's cornin'!” And he makes a
- rush at Zeke. Bud is a good deal taller'n Zeke, but Zeke is sort o'
- bricky-red and chunky like a Dutch Reformed Church, and when this here
- Peevy comes on to him with a jump Zeke busts him one right on to the eye.
- It makes an uncheerful noise like 1 heard one time when Dan Lively, the
- butcher acrost the street there, hit a steer in the head with a sledge
- hammer. Bud, he sets down sudden, and looks surprised out of the eye that
- hadn't went to war yet. But he must 'a' figgered it was a accident for he
- don't set there long. He jumps up and rushes again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm a wildcat! I'm a wildcat!” yells this here Bud. And Zeke, he
- collisions his fist with the other eye, and Bud sets down the second time.
- I won't say this here Zeke's hands was as big as a quarter of beef. The
- fact is, they wasn't that big. But I seen that fight myself, and there was
- somethin' about the size and shape of his fist when it was doubled up that
- kind o' <i>reminded</i> me of a quarter of beef. Only his fists was harder
- than a quarter of beef. I guess Zeke's fists was about as hard as a
- hickory log that has been gettin' itself soaked and dried and seasoned for
- two or three years. I heard a story about Zeke and a mule that kicked him
- one time, but I didn't see it myself and I dunno' as it's all true. The
- word was that Zeke jist picked up that mule after it kicked him and
- frowned at it and told it if it ever done that again he would jist
- naturally pull off the leg that it kicked him with and turn it loose to
- hop away on three legs, and he cuffed that mule thorough and thoughtful
- and then he took it by one hind leg and fore leg and jounced it against a
- stone barn and told it to behave its fool self. It always seemed to me
- that story had been stretched a mite, but that was one of the stories they
- telled on Zeke.
- </p>
- <p>
- But this here Bud Peevy is game. He jumps up again with his two eyes
- lookin' like a skillet full of tripe and onions and makes another rush at
- Zeke. And this time he gets his hands on to Zeke and they rastles back and
- forth. But Bud, while he is a strong fellow, he ain't no ways as strong as
- a mule even if he is jist as sudden and wicked, so Zeke throws him down
- two or three times. Bud, he kicks Zeke right vicious and spiteful into the
- stomach, and when he done that Zeke began to get a little cross. So he
- throwed Bud down again and this time he set on top of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then,” says Zeke, bangin' Bud's head on to the sidewalk, “am I a
- happenin', or am I on purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lemme up,” says Bud. “Leggo my whiskers and lemme up! You ain't licked me
- any, but them ol' wounds I got savin' this country is goin' to bust open
- ag'in. I kin feel 'em bustin'.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't start this,” says Zeke, “but I'm a-goin' to finish it. Now,
- then, am I a accident, or was I meant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a accident you ever got me down,” says Bud, “Whether you are a
- accident yourself or not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Zeke jounces his head on the sidewalk some more and he says: “You answer
- better nor that! You go further! You tell me whether I'm on purpose or
- not!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You was meant for somethin',” says Bud, “but you can't make me say what!
- You can bang my head off and I won't say what. Two or three of them
- bullets went into my neck right where you're bendin' it and I feel them
- ol' wounds bustin' open.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't believe you got no ol' wounds,” says Zeke, “and I don't believe
- you ever saved no country and I'm gonna keep you here till I've banged
- some sense and politeness into your head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bud, he gives a yell and a twist, and bites Zeke's wrist; Zeke slapped him
- some, and Bud ketched one of Zeke's fingers into his mouth and nigh bit it
- off afore Zeke got it loose. Zeke, he was a patient man and right
- thoughtful and judicious, but he had got kind o' cross when Bud kicked him
- into the stomach, and now this biting made him a leetle mite crosser. I
- cal'ated if Bud wasn't careful he'd get Zeke really riled up pretty soon
- and get his fool self hurt. Zeke, he takes Bud by the ears and slams his
- head till I thought the boards in that sidewalk was goin' to be busted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then,” says Zeke, lettin' up for a minute, “has the Centre of
- Population got a right to talk politics, or ain't he? You say he is got a
- right, or I mebby will fergit myself and get kind o' rough with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This here country I saved is a free country,” says Bud Peevy, kind o'
- sick an' feeble, “and any one that lives in this here country I saved has
- got a right to talk politics, I reckon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Zeke, he took that for an answer and got good-natured and let Bud up. Bud,
- he wipes the blood off'n his face and ketches his breath an' gits mean
- again right away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If my constitution hadn't been undermined savin' this here country,” says
- Bud, “you never could 'a' got me down like that! And you ain't heard the
- end of this argyment yet, neither! I'm a-goin' for my gun, and we'll shoot
- it out!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the townspeople interfered and give Bud to understand he couldn't
- bring no guns into a fight, like mebby he would 'a' done in them mountain
- regions he was always talkin' about; an' told him if he was to start
- gunnin' around they would get up a tar-and-feather party and he would be
- the reception committee. They was all on Zeke's side and they'd all got
- kind o' tired listenin' to Bud Peevy, anyhow. Zeke was their own hometown
- man, and so they backed him. All that glory had come to Brown County and
- they wasn't goin' to see it belittled by no feller from another place.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bud Peevy, for two or three weeks, can't understand his glory has left
- him, and he goes braggin' around worse than ever. But people only grins
- and turns away; nobody will hark to him when he talks. When Bud tries to
- tell his story it gets to be quite the thing to look at him and say:
- “Lemme up! Leggo my whiskers! Lemme up!”—like he said when Zeke
- Humphreys had him down. And so it was he come to be a byword around town.
- Kids would yell at him on the street, to plague him, and he would get mad
- and chase them kids, and when folks would see him runnin' after the kids
- they would yell: “Hey! Hey, Bud Peevy! You could go faster if you was to
- ride a bear!” Or else they would yell: “Whip yourself with a rattlesnake,
- Bud, and get up some speed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His glory had been so big and so widespread for so long that when it
- finally went, there jist wasn't a darned thing left to him. His heart
- busted in his bosom. He wouldn't talk about nothin'. He jist slinked
- around. He was most pitiful because he wasn't used to misfortune like some
- people.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he couldn't pack up his goods and move away from that place. For he
- had come there to live with a married daughter and his son-in-law, and if
- he left there he would have to get a steady job working at somethin' and
- support himself. And Bud didn't want to risk that. For that wild run he
- made the time he saved the country left him strained clean down to the
- innards of his constitution, he says, and he wa'n't fit to work. But the
- thing that put the finishing touches on to him was when a single daughter
- that he had fell into love with Zeke Humphreys, who was a widower, and
- married herself to him. His own flesh and blood has disowned him, Bud
- says. So he turns sad, and he was the saddest man 1 ever seen. He was
- sadder than you look to be, stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger with the educated skin breathed a gentle sigh at the
- conclusion of Hennery's tale of the Deciding Vote and the Centre of
- Population, and then he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't doubt Bud Peevy was a sad man. But there's sadder things than
- what happened to Bud Peevy. There's things that touches the heart closer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stranger,” said Ben Grevis, “you've said it! But Hennery, here, don't
- know anything about the heart bein' touched.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hennery McNabb seemed to enjoy the implication, rather than to resent it.
- Ben Grevis continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sadder thing than what happened to Bud Peevy is goin' on a good deal
- nearer home than Indianny.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't the kind of a feller that goes running to Indianny and to
- Kentucky and all over the known earth for examples of sadness, nor nothin'
- else. We got as good a country right here in Illinois as there is on top
- of the earth and I'm one that always sticks up for home folks and home
- industries. Hennery, here, ain't got any patriotism. And he ain't got any
- judgment. He don't know what's in front of him. But right here in our home
- county, not five miles from where we are, sets a case of sadness that is
- one of the saddest I ever seen or knowed about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hennery, here, he don't know how sad it is, for he's got no finer
- feelin's. A free thinker like Hennery can't be expected to have no finer
- feelin's. And this case is a case of a woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A woman!” sighed the stranger. “If a woman is mixed up with it, it could
- have finer feelin's and sadness in it!” And a ripple of melancholy ran
- over him from head to foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- This here woman (said Ben Grevis) lives over to Hickory Grove, in the
- woods, and everybody for miles around calls her Widder Watson.
- </p>
- <p>
- Widder Watson, she has buried four or five husbands, and you can see her
- any day that it ain't rainin' settin' in the door of her little house,
- smokin' of her corn-cob pipe, and lookin' at their graves and speculatin'
- and wonderin'. I talked with her a good deal from time to time durin' the
- last three or four years, and the things she is speculatin' on is life and
- death, and them husbands she has buried, and children. But that ain't what
- makes her so sad. It's wishin' for somethin' that, it seems like, never
- can be, that is makin' her so sad.
- </p>
- <p>
- She has got eighteen or twenty children, Widder Watson has, runnin' around
- them woods. Them woods is jist plumb full of her children. You wouldn't
- dare for to try to shoot a rabbit anywhere near them woods for fear of
- hittin' one.
- </p>
- <p>
- And all them children has got the most beautiful and peculiar names, that
- Widder Watson got out of these here drug-store almanacs. She's been a
- great reader all her life, Widder Watson has, but all her readin' has been
- done in these here almanacs. You know how many different kinds of almanacs
- there always are layin' around drug-stores, I guess. Well, every two or
- three months Widder Watson goes to town and gets a new bale of them
- almanacs and then she sets and reads 'em. She goes to drug-stores in towns
- as far as twelve or fifteen miles away to keep herself supplied.
- </p>
- <p>
- She never cared much for readin' novels and story papers, she tells me.
- What she wants is somethin' that has got some true information in it,
- about the way the sun rises, and the tides in the oceans she has never
- saw, and when the eclipses is going to be, and different kinds of diseases
- new and old, and receipts for preserves and true stories about how this or
- that wonderful remedy come to be discovered. Mebby it was discovered by
- the Injuns in this country, or mebby it was discovered by them there
- Egyptians in the old country away back in King Pharaoh's time, and mebby
- she's got some of the same sort of yarbs and plants right there in her own
- woods. Well, Widder Watson, she likes that kind o' readin', and she knows
- all about the Seven Wonders of the World, and all the organs and ornaments
- inside the human carcass, and the kind o' pains they are likely to have
- and all about what will happen to you if the stars says this or that and
- how long the Mississippi River is and a lot of them old-time prophecies of
- signs and marvels what is to come to pass yet. You know about what the
- readin' is in them almanacs, mebby.
- </p>
- <p>
- Widder Watson, she has got a natural likin' for fine words, jist the same
- as some has got a gift for hand-paintin' or playin' music or recitin'
- pieces of poetry or anything like that. And so it was quite natural, when
- her kids come along, she names 'em after the names in her favourite
- readin' matter. And she gets so she thinks more of the names of them kids
- than of nearly anything else. I ain't sayin' she thinks more of the names
- than she does of the kids, but she likes the names right next to the kids.
- Every time she had a baby she used to sit and think for weeks and weeks,
- so she tells me, for to get a good name for that baby, and select and
- select and select out of them almanacs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her oldest girl, that everybody calls Zody, is named Zodiac by rights. And
- then there's Carty, whose real name is Cartilege, and Anthy, whose full
- name is Anthrax, and so on. There's Peruna and Epidermis and Epidemic and
- Pisces.
- </p>
- <p>
- I dunno as I can remember all them swell names. There's Perry, whose real
- name is Perihelion, and there's Whitsuntide and Tonsillitis and Opodeldoc
- and a lot more—I never could remember all them kids.
- </p>
- <p>
- And there ain't goin' to be no more on 'em, for the fact of the matter
- seems to be that Widder Watson ain't likely to ever get another husband.
- It's been about four years since Jim Watson, her last one, died, and was
- buried in there amongst the hickory second-growth and hazel bushes, and
- since that day there ain't nobody come along that road a-courtin' Widder
- Watson. And that's what makes her sad. She can't understand it, never
- havin' been without a husband for so long before, and she sets and grieves
- and grieves and smokes her corn-cob pipe and speculates and grieves some
- more.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, don't you get no wrong idea about Widder Watson. She ain't so
- all-fired crazy about men. It ain't that. That ain't what makes her
- grieve. She is sad because she wants another baby to pin a name to.
- </p>
- <p>
- For she has got the most lovely name out of a new almanac for that there
- kid that will likely never be born, and she sets there day after day, and
- far into the night, lookin' at them graves in the brush, and talkin' to
- the clouds and stars, and sayin' that name over and over to herself, and
- sighin' and weepin' because that lovely name will be lost and unknown and
- wasted forevermore, with no kid to tack it on to.
- </p>
- <p>
- And she hopes and yearns and grieves for another man to marry her and
- wonders why none of 'em never does. Well, I can see why they don't. The
- truth is, Widder Watson don't fix herself up much any more. She goes
- barefooted most of the time in warm weather, and since she got so sad-like
- she don't comb her hair much. And them corn-cob pipes of hern ain't none
- too savory. But I 'spose she thinks of herself as bein' jist the same way
- she was the last time she took the trouble to look into the lookin' glass
- and she can't understand it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn the men, Ben,” she says to me, the last time I was by there, “what's
- the matter with 'em all? Ain't they got no sense any more? I never had no
- trouble ketchin' a man before this! But here I been settin' for three or
- four years, with eighty acres of good land acrost the road there, and a
- whole passel o' young uns to work it, and no man comes to court me. There
- was a feller along here two-three months ago I did have some hopes on. He
- come a-palaverin' and a-blarneyin' along, and he stayed to dinner and I
- made him some apple dumplin's, and he et an' et and palavered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it turned out he was really makin' up to that gal, Zody, of mine. It
- made me so darned mad, Ben, I runned him off the place with Jeff Parker's
- shotgun that is hangin' in there, and then I took a hickory sprout to that
- there Zody and tanned her good, for encouragin' of him. You remember Jeff
- Parker, Ben? He was my second. You wasn't thinkin' of gettin' married
- ag'in yourself, was you, Ben?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I told her I wasn't. That there eighty acres is good land, and they ain't
- no mortgages on it, nor nothin', but the thought of bein' added to that
- collection in amongst the hazel brush and hickory sprouts is enough for to
- hold a man back. And the Widder Watson, she don't seem to realize she
- orter fix herself up a little mite. But I'm sorry for her, jist the same.
- There she sets and mourns, sayin' that name over and over to herself, and
- a-grievin' and a-hopin', and all the time she knows it ain't much use to
- hope. And a sadder sight than you will see over there to Hickory Grove
- ain't to be found in the whole of the State of Illinois.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a mighty sad picture you have drawed,” said the stranger, when
- Ben Grevis had finished, “but I'm a sadder man for a man than that there
- woman is for a woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He wrinkled all over, he almost grinned, if one could think of him as
- grinning, when he mentioned “that there woman.” It was as if he tasted
- some ulterior jest, and found it bitter, in connection with “that there
- woman.” After a pause, in which he sighed several times, he remarked in
- his tired and gentle voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's two kinds of sadness, gentlemen. There is the melancholy sadness
- that has been with you for so long that you have got used to it and kind
- o' enjoy it in a way. And then there's the kind o' sadness where you go
- back on yourself, where you make your own mistakes and fall below your own
- standards, and that is a mighty bitter kind of sadness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He paused again, while the skin wreathed itself into funeral wreaths about
- his face, and then he said, impressively:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Both of them kinds of sadness I have known. First I knowed the melancholy
- kind, and now I know the bitter kind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The first sadness that I had lasted for years (said the stranger with the
- strange skin). It was of the melancholy kind, tender and sort o' sweet,
- and if I had been the right kind of a man I would 'a' stuck to it and kept
- it. But I went back on it. I turned my face away from it. And in going
- back on it I went back on all them old, sad, sweet memories, like the
- songs tell about, that was my better self. And that is what caused the
- sadness I am in the midst of now. It's the feelin' that I done wrong in
- turnin' away from all them memories that makes me as sad as you see me
- to-day. I will first tell you how the first sadness come on to me, and
- secondly I will tell you how I got the sadness I am in the midst of now.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gentlemen, mebby you have noticed that my skin is kind o' different from
- most people's skin. That is a gift, and there was a time when I made money
- off'n that gift. And I got another gift. I'm longer and slimmer than most
- persons is. And besides them two gifts, I got a third gift. I can eat
- glass, gentlemen, and it don't hurt me none. I can eat glass as natural
- and easy as a chicken eats gravel. And them three gifts is my art.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was an artist in a side-show for years, gentlemen, and connected with
- one of the biggest circuses in the world. I could have my choice of three
- jobs with any show I was with, and there ain't many could say that. I
- could be billed as the India Rubber Man, on account of my skin, or I could
- be billed as the Living Skeleton, on account of my framework, or I could
- be billed as the Glass Eater. And once or twice I was billed as all three.
- </p>
- <p>
- But mostly I didn't bother much with eating glass or being a Living
- Skeleton. Mostly I stuck to being an India Rubber Man. It always seemed to
- me there was more art in that, more chance to show talent and genius. The
- gift that was given to me by Providence I developed and trained till I
- could do about as much with my skin as most people can with their fingers.
- It takes constant work and practice to develop a skin, even when Nature
- has been kind to you like she has to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- For years I went along contented enough, seein' the country and being
- admired by young and old, and wondered at and praised for my gift and the
- way I had turned it into an art, and never thinkin' much of women nor
- matrimony nor nothing of that kind.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when a man's downfall is put off, it is harder when it comes. When I
- fell in love I fell good and hard. I fell into love with a pair of Siamese
- twins. These here girls was tied together somewheres about the waist line
- with a ligament of some kind, and there wasn't no fake about it—they
- really was tied. On account of motives of delicacy I never asked 'em much
- about that there ligament. The first pair of twins like that who was ever
- on exhibition was from Siam, so after that they called all twins of that
- kind Siamese twins. But these girls wasn't from none of them outlandish
- parts; they was good American girls, born right over in Ohio, and their
- names was Jones. Hetty Jones and Netty Jones was their names.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hetty, she was the right-hand twin, and Netty was the left-hand twin. And
- you never seen such lookers before in your life, double nor single. They
- was exactly alike and they thought alike and they talked alike. Sometimes
- when I used to set and talk to 'em I felt sure they was just one woman. If
- I could 'a' looked at 'em through one of these here stereoscopes they
- would 'a' come together and been one woman, I never had any idea about 'em
- bein' two women.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I courted 'em, and they was mighty nice to me, both of 'em. I used
- to give 'em candy and flowers and little presents and I would set and
- admire 'em by the hour. I kept gettin' more and more into love with them.
- And I seen they was gettin' to like me, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- So one day I outs with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you marry me?” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” says Hetty. And, “Yes,” says Netty. Both in the same breath! And
- then each one looked at the other one, and they both looked at me, and
- they says, both together:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which one of us did you ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” says I, kind o' flustered, “there ain't but one of you, is they? I
- look on you as practically one woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The idea!” says Netty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You orter be ashamed of yourself,” says Hetty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You didn't think,” says Netty, “that you could marry both of us, did
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, all I had really thought up to that time was that I was in love with
- 'em, and just as much in love with one as with the other, and I popped the
- question right out of my heart and sentiments without thinking much one
- way or the other. But now I seen there was going to be a difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” I says, “if you want to consider yourself as two people, I suppose
- it would be marryin' both of you. But I always thought of you as two
- hearts that beat as one. And I don't see no reason why I shouldn't marry
- the two of you, if you want to hold out stubborn that you <i>are</i> two.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For my part,” says Hetty, “I think you are insulting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must choose between us,” says Netty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would never,” says Hetty, “consent to any Mormonous goings-on of that
- sort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They still insisted they was two people till finally I kind o' got to see
- their side of the argyment. But how was I going to choose between them
- when no matter which one I chooses she was tied tight to the other one?
- </p>
- <p>
- We agreed to talk it over with the Fat Lady in that show, who had a good
- deal of experience in concerns of the heart and she had been married four
- or five times and was now a widder, having accidental killed her last
- husband by rolling over on him in her sleep. She says to me:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How happy you could be with either, Skinny, were t'other dear charmer
- away!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This ain't no jokin' matter, Dolly,” I tells her. “We come for serious
- advice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Skinny, you old fool,” she says, “there's an easy way out of this
- difficulty. All you got to do is get a surgeon to cut that ligament and
- then take your choice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I ain't really got any choice,” I says, “for I loves 'em both and I
- loves 'em equal. And I don't believe in tamperin' with Nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain't legal for you to marry both of 'em,” says the Fat Lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain't moral for me to cut 'em asunder,” I says.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had a feelin' all along that if they was cut asunder trouble of some
- kind would follow. But both Hetty and Netty was strong for it. They
- refused to see me or have anything to do with me, they sent me word, till
- I give up what they called the insultin' idea of marryin' both of 'em.
- They set and quarrelled with each other all the time, the Fat Lady told
- me, because they was jealous of each other. Bein' where they couldn't get
- away from each other even for a minute, that jealousy must have et into
- them something unusual. And finally, I knuckled under. I let myself be
- overrulled. I seen I would lose both of 'em unless I made a choice. So I
- sent 'em word by the Fat Lady that I would choose. But I knowed deep in my
- heart all the time that no good would come of it. You can't go against
- Scripter and prosper; and the Scripter says: “What God has joined
- together, let no man put asunder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, we fixed it up this way: I was to pay for that there operation,
- having money saved up for to do it with, and then I was to make my choice
- by chance. The Fat Lady says to toss a penny or something.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I always been a kind of a romantic feller, and I says to myself I will
- make that choice in some kind of a romantic way. So first I tried one of
- these ouija boards, but all I get is “Etty, Etty, Etty,” over and over
- again, and whether the ouija left off an H or an N there's no way of
- telling. The Fat Lady, she says: “Why don't you count 'em out, like kids
- do, to find out who is It?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you mean?” I asks her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” says she, “by saying, 'Eeny meeny, miney, mo!' or else 'Monkey,
- monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys have we here?' or something like
- that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But that ain't romantic enough to suit me and I remember how you pluck a
- daisy and say: “She loves me! She loves me not!” And I think I will get an
- American beauty rose and do it that way. Well, they had the operation, and
- it was a success. And about a week later I'm to go to the hospital and
- tell 'em which one has been elected to the holy bonds of matrimony. I gets
- me a rose, one of the most expensive that money can buy in the town we was
- in, and when I arrive at the hospital I start up the front steps pluckin'
- the leaves off and sayin' to myself: “Hetty she is! Netty she is! Hetty
- she is!”—and so on. But I never got that rose all plucked.
- </p>
- <p>
- I knowed all along that it was wrong to put asunder what God had joined
- together, and I orter stuck to the hunch I had. You can't do anything to a
- freak without changing his or her disposition some way. You take a freak
- that was born that way and go to operating on him, and if he is
- good-natured he'll turn out a grouch, or if he was a grouch he'll turn out
- good-natured. I knowed a dog-faced boy one time who was the sunniest
- critter you ever seen. But his folks got hold of a lot of money and took
- him out of the business and had his features all slicked up and made over,
- and what he gained in looks he lost in temper and disposition. Any
- tinkering you do around artists of that class will change their sentiments
- every time.
- </p>
- <p>
- I never got that rose all plucked. At the top of the steps I was met by
- Hetty and Netty, just cornin' out of the hospital and not expectin' to see
- me. With one of them was a young doctor that worked in the hospital and
- with the other was a patient that had just got well. They explained to me
- that as soon as they had that operation their sentiments toward me
- changed. Before, they had both loved me. Afterwards, neither one of 'em
- did. They was right sorry about it, they said, but they had married these
- here fellows that morning in the hospital, with a double wedding, and was
- now starting off on their wedding trips, and their husbands would pay back
- the operation money as soon as they had earned it and saved it up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I was so flabbergasted that my skin stiffened up on me, and it
- stayed stiff for the rest of that day. I never said a word, but I turned
- away from there a sad man with a broken heart in my bosom. And I quit
- bein' an artist. I didn't have the sperrit to be in a show any more.
- </p>
- <p>
- And through all the years since then I been a saddened man. But as time
- went by there come a kind of sweetness into that sadness, too. It is
- better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, like the
- poet says. I was one of the saddest men in the world, but I sort o'
- enjoyed it, after a few years. And all them memories sort o' kept me a
- better man.
- </p>
- <p>
- I orter stuck to that kind of sweet sadness. I orter knowed that if I went
- back on all them beautiful memories of them girls something bitter would
- come to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I didn't, gentlemen. I went back on all that sentiment and that
- tenderness. I betrayed all them beautiful memories. Five days ago, I went
- and married. Yes, sir, I abandoned all that sweet recollection. And I been
- livin' in hell ever since. I been reproachin' myself day and night for not
- provin' true and trustworthy to all that romantic sadness I had all them
- years. It was a sweet sadness, and I wasn't faithful to it. And so long as
- I live now I will have this here bitter sadness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger got up and sighed and stretched himself. He took a fresh chew
- of tobacco, and began to crank his flivver.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Ben Grevis, “that is a sad story. But I don't know as you're
- sadder, at that, than the Widder Watson is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger spat colourfully into the road, and again the faint semblance
- of a smile, a bitter smile, wreathed itself about his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I be!” he said, “I be a sadder person than the Widder Watson. It was
- her I married!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- DOGS AND BOYS (As told by the dog)
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f you are a dog of
- any sense, you will pick you out a pretty good sort of a boy and stick to
- him. These dogs that are always adopting one boy after another get a bad
- name among the humans in the end. And you'd better keep in with the
- humans, especially the grown-up ones. Getting your scraps off a plate at
- the back door two or three times a day beats hunting rabbits and
- ground-squirrels for a living.
- </p>
- <p>
- What a dog wants is a boy anywhere from about nine to about sixteen years
- old. A boy under nine hasn't enough sense, as a rule, to be any company
- for an intelligent dog. And along about sixteen they begin to dress up and
- try to run with the girls, and carry on in a 'way to make a dog tired.
- There are exceptions of course—one of the worst mistakes some dogs
- make is to suppose that all boys are alike. That isn't true; you'll find
- just as much individuality among boys as there is among us dogs, if you're
- patient enough to look for it and have a knack for making friends with
- animals. But you must remember to be kind to a boy if you're going to
- teach him anything; and you must be careful not to frighten him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same time, you must keep a boy in his place at once. My boy—Freckles
- Watson is his name—understands just how far he can go with me. But
- some dogs have to give their boys a lesson now and then. Jack Thompson,
- who is a fine, big, good-natured dog, has a boy like that. The boy's name
- is Squint—Squint Thompson, he is—and he gets a little
- overbearing at times. I remember one Saturday afternoon last summer in
- particular. There were a lot of us dogs and boys fooling around up at
- Clayton's swimming-hole, including some stray boys with no dogs to look
- after them, when Squint began to show off by throwing sticks into the
- water and making Jack swim in and get 'em. Jack didn't mind that, but
- after a while he got pretty tired and flopped down on the grass, and
- wouldn't budge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grab him by the tail and the scruff of the neck, and pitch him in,
- Squint,” says my boy, Freckles. “It's a lot of fun to duck a dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squint went over to where Jack was lying and took hold of the scruff of
- Jack's neck. Jack winked at me in his good-natured way, and made a show of
- pulling back some, but finally let Squint pitch him into the deepest part
- of the swimming-hole. His head went clear under—which is a thing no
- dog likes, let alone being picked up that way and tossed about. Every boy
- there set up a shout, and when Jack scrambled up the bank, wagging his
- tail and shaking the water off himself, the humans all yelled, “Sling him
- in again, Squint!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack trotted over to where he had a bone planted at the foot of a walnut
- tree, and began to dig for it. Squint followed, intending to sling him in
- again. I wondered if old Jack would stand for any more of it. Jack didn't;
- but before he got that fool boy to give up his idea he had to pretend like
- he was actually trying to bite him. He threw a good scare into the whole
- bunch of them, and then made out like he'd seen a rabbit off through the
- trees, and took after it. Mutt Mulligan and I went with him, and all the
- boys followed, naked, and whooping like Indians, except two that stayed
- behind to tie knots in shirts. When we three dogs had given the whole
- bunch of them the slip, we lay down in the grass and talked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some day,” says Jack to me, “I'm afraid I'm really going to have to bite
- that Squint boy, Spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't do it,” says I, “he's just a fool boy, and he doesn't really mean
- anything by it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The thing to do,” says Mutt Mulligan, “is to fire him—just turn him
- loose without a dog to his name, and pick up another boy somewhere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I don't like to give Squint up,” says Jack, very thoughtful. “I think
- it's my duty to stick to him, even if I have to bite him once or twice to
- keep him in his place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see,” Jack went on, “I'm really <i>fond</i> of Squint. I've had him
- three years now, and I'm making a regular boy of him. He was a kind of a
- sissy when I took charge of him. His folks made him wear long yaller
- curls, and they kept him in shoes and stockings even in the summer-time,
- and they dressed him up in little blouses, and, say, fellows, you'd never
- guess what they called him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Percival,” says Jack. “And they wouldn't let him fight. Well, I've seen
- him turn into a real boy, a bit it a time, and I think it's up to me to
- stick to the job and help with his education. He chews tobacco now,” says
- Jack very proudly, “and he can smoke a corncob pipe without getting sick;
- and I'll tell you what, Spot, he can lick that Freckles boy of yours to a
- frazzle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Huh!” says I, “there's no boy of his age in town that dast to knock a
- chip off that Freckles boy's shoulder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Jack, ignoring my remark, “that Squint has turned into
- some kid, believe me! And the first time I saw him he was a sight. It was
- about dusk, one summer afternoon three years ago, and he was sitting down
- in the grass by the side of the road six or seven miles from town, crying
- and talking to himself. I sat down a little way off and listened. He had
- run away from home, and I didn't blame him any, either. Besides the curls
- and shoes and stockings I have mentioned, there were other persecutions.
- He never went fishing, for instance, unless his father took him. He didn't
- dast to play marbles for keeps. They wouldn't let him have a Flobert
- rifle, nor even a nigger shooter. There were certain kids he wasn't
- allowed to play with—they were too common and dirty for him, his
- folks said. So he had run off to go with a circus. He had hacked off his
- Fauntleroy curls before he started only he hadn't got 'em very even; but
- he had forgot to inquire which way to go to find a circus. He'd walked and
- walked, and the nearest thing to a circus he had found was a gipsy outfit,
- and he had got scared of an old man with brass rings in his ears, and run,
- and run, and run. He'd slung his shoes and stockings away when he started
- because he hated 'em so, and now he had a stone bruise, and he was lost
- besides. And it was getting dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I felt sorry for that boy. I sat there and watched him, and the
- idea came to me that it would be a Christian act to adopt him. He wasn't a
- sissy at heart—he had good stuff in him, or he wouldn't have run
- away. Besides, I wanted a change; I'd been working for a farmer, and I was
- pretty sick of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's no life for a dog with any sporting instinct,” I said, “farm life
- isn't. I've tried it. They keep you so infernally busy with their cows and
- sheep and things; and I knew one farm dog that had to churn twice a week.
- They stuck him in a treadmill and made him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A farm's no worse than living in a city,” said Mutt Mulligan. “A city dog
- ain't a real dog; he's either an outcast under suspicion of the police, or
- a mama's pet with ribbons tied around his neck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can't tell me,” says Jack. “I know. A country town with plenty of
- boys in it, and a creek or river near by, is the only place for a dog.
- Well, as I was saying, I felt sorry for Percival, and we made friends.
- Pretty soon a man that knew him came by in a buggy, going to town. He was
- a doctor, and he stopped and asked Percival if he wasn't pretty far from
- home. Percival told him he'd left home for good and for all; but he
- sniffled when he said it, and the doctor put him into his buggy and drove
- him to town. I drilled along behind. It had been dark quite a while when
- we got home, and Percival's folks were scared half to death. His mother
- had some extra hysterics when she saw his hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Where on earth did you get that ornery-looking yellow mongrel?' says
- Percival's father when he caught sight of me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'That's my dog,' says Percival. 'I'm going to keep him.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “'I won't have him around,' says his mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Percival spunked up and said he'd keep me, and he'd get his hair
- shingled tight to his head, or else the next time he ran away he'd make a
- go of it. He got a licking for that remark, but they were so glad to get
- him back they let him keep me. And from that time on Percival began to get
- some independence about him. He ain't Percival now; he's Squint.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It's true that a dog can help a lot in a boy's education. And I'm proud of
- what I've done for Freckles. I will always remember 'one awful time I had
- with him, though. I didn't think he'd ever pull through it. All of a
- sudden he got melancholy—out of sorts and dreamy. I couldn't figure
- out what was the matter with him at first. But I watched him close, and
- finally I found out he was in love. He was feeling the disgrace of being
- in love pretty hard, too; but he was trying not to show it. The worst part
- of it was, he was in love with his school-teacher. She was a Miss Jones,
- and an old woman—twenty-two or twenty-three years old, she was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squint and Freckles had a fight over it when Squint found out. Squint came
- over to our place one night after supper and whistled Freckles out. He?
- says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, Freckles, I seen you put an apple on Miss Jones's desk this
- morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a liar,” says Freckles, “and you dastn't back it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dast,” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dastn't,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dast,” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back it then,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, you're another,” says Squint. Which backed it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Freckles, he put a piece of wood on to his shoulder, and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't dast to knock that chip off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dast,” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dastn't,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squint made a little push at it. Freckles dodged, and it fell off.
- “There,” says Squint, “I knocked it off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You didn't; it fell off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn't neither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did teether. Just put it on again, and see if I don't dast to knock it
- off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't have to put it on again, and you ain't big enough to make me do
- it,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can too make you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Huh, you can't run any sandy over me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll show you whether I can or not!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come on, then, over back of the Baptist Church, and show me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I won't fight in a graveyard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yah! Yah! Yah!—'fraid of a graveyard at night! Fraid-cat!
- Fraid-cat! Fraid-cat!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There isn't any kid will stand for that, so they went over to the
- graveyard back of the Baptist Church. It was getting pretty dark, too. I
- followed them, and sat down on a grave beside a tombstone to watch the
- fight. I guess they were pretty much scared of that graveyard, both of
- those boys; but us dogs had dug around there too much, making holes after
- gophers, and moles, and snakes for me to mind it any. They hadn't hit each
- other more than half a dozen times, those boys, when a flea got hold of me
- right in the middle of my back, up toward my neck—the place I never
- can reach, no matter how hard I dig and squirm. It wasn't one of my own
- fleas, by the way it bit; it must have been a tramp flea that had been
- starved for weeks. It had maybe come out there with a funeral a long time
- before and got lost off of someone, and gone without food ever since; and
- while I was rolling around and twisting, and trying to get at it, I bumped
- against that tombstone with my whole weight. It was an old slab, and
- loose, and it fell right over in the grass with a thud. The boys didn't
- know I was there, and when the tombstone fell and I jumped, they thought
- ghosts were after them, though I never heard of a ghost biting anybody
- yet. It was all I could do to keep up with those boys for the next five
- minutes, and I can run down a rabbit. When they stopped, they were half a
- mile away, on the schoolhouse steps, hanging on to each other for comfort.
- But, after a while they got over their scare, and Squint said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There ain't any use in you denying that apple, Freckles; two others,
- besides me, not counting a girl, saw you put it there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Freckles, “it's nobody's business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what I can't make out,” says Squint, “is what became of the red
- pepper. We knew you wasn't the kind of a softy that would bring apples to
- teacher unless they was loaded with cayenne pepper, or something like
- that. So we waited around after school to see what would happen when she
- bit into it. But she just set at her desk and eat it all up, and slung the
- core in the stove, and nothing happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's funny,” says Freckles. And he didn't say anything more.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Freckles,” says Squint, “I don't believe you put any red pepper into that
- apple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did,” says Freckles. “You're a liar!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” says Squint, “what become of it, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's none of your business, what become of it,” says Freckles. “What's
- it to you what become of it? How do I know what become of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Freckles,” says Squint, “I believe you're stuck on teacher.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a liar!” yells Freckles. And this time he was so mad he hit Squint
- without further words. They had a beauty of a fight, but finally Freckles
- got Squint down on the gravel path, and bumped his head up and down in the
- gravel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” says he, “did you see any apple?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” says Squint, “I didn't see any apple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you had seen one, would there have been pepper in it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There would have been—le'me up, Freckles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I stuck on teacher?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain't stuck on anybody—ouch, Freckles, le'me up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles let him up, and then started back toward home, walking on
- different sides of the street. About half-way home Freckles crossed the
- street, and said: “Squint, if I tell you something, you won't tell?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “1 ain't any snitch, Freckles, and you know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won't even tell the rest of the Dalton Gang?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, set down on the grass here, and I'll tell you.” They set down, and
- Freckles says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Honest, Squint, it's true—I did take her that apple this morning,
- and I'm stuck on her, and there wasn't any pepper in it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gee, Freckles!” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles only drew in a deep breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm awful sorry for you, Freckles,” says Squint, “honest, I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You always been a good pal, Squint,” says Freckles. “Ain't there anything
- can be done about it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nope,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Dalton Gang could make things so hot for her she'd have to give up
- school,” says Squint, very hopeful. “If you didn't see her any more, you'd
- maybe get over it, Freckles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Squint, I don't want her run out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't <i>want</i> her run out! Say, Freckles, you don't mean to say you
- <i>like</i> being in love with her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” says Freckles, “if I did like it, that would be a good deal of
- disgrace, wouldn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gosh darn her!” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Squint,” says Freckles, “if you call me a softy, I'll lick you
- again; but honest, I do kind of like it.” And after that disgrace there
- wasn't anything more either of them could say. And that disgrace ate into
- him more and more; it changed him something awful. It took away all his
- spirit by degrees. He got to be a different boy—sort of mooned
- around and looked foolish. And he'd blush and giggle if any one said
- “Hello” to him. I noticed the first bad sign one Saturday when his father
- told him he couldn't go swimming until after he had gone over the whole
- patch and picked the bugs off of all the potatoes. He didn't kick nor play
- sick; he didn't run away; he stayed at home and bugged those potatoes; he
- bugged them very hard and savage; he didn't do two rows, as usual, and
- then sneak off through the orchard with me—<i>no, sir, he hugged 'em
- all!</i> I lay down at the edge of the patch and watched him, and thought
- of old times, and the other dogs and boys down at the creek, or maybe
- drowning out gophers, or getting chased by Cy Smith's bull, or fighting
- out a bumblebee's nest and putting mud on the stung places, and it all
- made me fell mighty sad and downcast. Next day was Sunday, and they told
- him he'd get a licking if he chased off after Sunday-school and played
- baseball out to the fair-grounds—and he didn't; he came straight
- home, without even stopping back of the livery-stable to watch the men
- pitch horseshoes. And next day was Monday, and he washed his neck without
- being told, and he was on time at school, and he got his grammar lesson.
- And worse than that before the day was over, for at recess-time the
- members of the Dalton Gang smoked a Pittsburgh stogie, turn and turn
- about, out behind the coal-house. Freckles rightly owned a fifth interest
- in that stogie, but he gave his turns away without a single puff. Some of
- us dogs always hung around the school-yard at recess-times, and I saw that
- myself, and it made me feel right bad; it wasn't natural. And that night
- he went straight home from school, and he milked the cow and split the
- kindling wood without making a kick, and he washed his feet before he went
- to bed without being made to.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir, it wasn't natural. And he felt his disgrace worse and worse, and
- lost his interest in life more and more as the days went by. One afternoon
- when I couldn't get him interested in pretending I was going to chew up
- old Bill Patterson, I knew there wasn't anything would take him out of
- himself. Bill was the town drunkard, and all of us dogs used to run and
- bark at him when there were any humans looking on. I never knew how we got
- started at it, but it was the fashion. We didn't have anything against old
- Bill either, but we let on like we thought he was a tough character; that
- is, if any one was looking at us. If we ever met old Bill toward the edge
- of town, where no one could see us, we were always friendly enough with
- him, too. Bill liked dogs, and used to be always trying to pet us, and
- knew just the places where a dog liked to be scratched, but there wasn't a
- dog in town would be seen making up to him. We'd let him think maybe we
- were going to be friendly, and smell and sniff around him in an
- encouraging sort of a way, like we thought maybe he was an acquaintance of
- ours, and then old Bill would get real proud and try to pat our heads, and
- say: 'The <i>dogs</i> all know old Bill, all right—yes, sir! <i>They</i>
- know who's got a good heart and who ain't. May be an outcast, but the <i>dogs</i>
- know—yes, sir!” And when he said that we'd growl and back off, and
- circle around him, and bristle our backs up, and act like we'd finally
- found the man that robbed our family's chicken-house last week, and run in
- and snap at Bill's legs. Then all the boys and other humans around would
- laugh. I reckon it was kind of mean and hypocritical in us dogs, too; but
- you've got to keep the humans jollied up, and the coarsest kind of jokes
- is the only kind they seem to appreciate. But even when I put old Bill
- through his paces, that Freckles boy didn't cheer up any.
- </p>
- <p>
- The worst of it was that Miss Jones had made up her mind to marry the
- Baptist minister, and it was only a question of time before she'd get him.
- Every dog and human in our town knew that. Folks used to talk it over at
- every meal, or out on the front porches in the evenings, and wonder how
- much longer he would hold out. And Freckles used to listen to them
- talking, and then sneak off alone and sit down with his chin in his hands
- and study it all out. The Dalton Gang—Squint had told the rest of
- them, each promising not to tell—was right sympathetic at first.
- They offered to burn the preacher's house down if that would do any good.
- But Freckles said no, leave the preacher alone. It wasn't <i>his</i> fault—everyone
- knew <i>he</i> wouldn't marry Miss Jones if she let him alone. Then the
- Daltons said they'd kidnap the teacher if he said the word. But Freckles
- said no, that would cause a lot of talk; and, besides, a grown woman eats
- an awful lot; and what would they feed her on? Finally Tom Mulligan—he
- was Mutt Mulligan's boy—says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you got to do, Freckles, is make some kind of a noble sacrifice.
- That's the way they always do in these here Lakeside Library books.
- Something that will touch her heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they all agree her heart has got to be touched. But how?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe,” says Squint, “it would touch her heart if the Dalton Gang was to
- march in in a body and offer to reform.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Tom Mulligan says he wouldn't go <i>that</i> far for any one. And
- after about a week the Dalton Gang lost its sympathy and commenced to guy
- Freckles and poke fun at him. And then there were fights—two or
- three every day. But gradually it got so that Freckles didn't seem to take
- any comfort or joy in a fight, and he lost spirits more and more. And
- pretty soon he began to get easy to lick. He got so awful easy to lick the
- Daltons got tired of licking him, and quit fighting him entirely. And then
- the worst happened. One day they served him notice that until he got his
- nerve back and fell out of love with Miss Jones again, he would not be
- considered a member of the Dalton Gang. But even that didn't jar him any—Freckles
- was plumb ruined.
- </p>
- <p>
- One day I heard the humans talking it over that the preacher had give in
- at last. Miss Jones's pa, and her uncle too, were both big church members,
- and he never really had a chance from the first. It was in the paper, the
- humans said, that they were engaged, and were to be married when school
- was out. Freckles, he poked away from the porch where the family was
- sitting when he heard that, and went to the barn and lay down on a pile of
- hay. I sat outside the barn, and I could hear him in there choking back
- what he was feeling. It made me feel right sore, too, and when the moon
- came up I couldn't keep from howling at it; for here was one of the finest
- kids you ever saw in there bellering like a girl, and all because of a
- no-account woman—a grown-up woman, mind you! I went in and lay down
- on the hay beside him, and licked his face, and nuzzled my head up under
- his armpit, to show him I'd stand by him anyhow. Pretty soon he went to
- sleep there, and after a long while his father came out and picked him up
- and carried him into the house to bed. He never waked up.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day I happened by the schoolhouse along about recess-time. The
- boys were playing prisoner's base, and I'm pretty good at that game
- myself, so I joined in. When the bell rang, I slipped into Freckles's room
- behind the scholars, thinking I'd like a look at that Miss Jones myself.
- Well, she wasn't anything Yd go crazy over. When she saw me, there was the
- deuce to pay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whose dog is that?” she sings out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please, ma'am,” squeals a little girl, “that is Harold Watson's dog,
- Spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold Watson,” says she to Freckles, “don't you know it's strictly
- against the rules to bring dogs to school?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes'm,” says Freckles, getting red in the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then why did you do it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't, ma'am,” says he. “He's just come visitin' like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold,” says she, “don't be impudent. Step forward.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stepped toward her desk, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He
- jerked away from her, and she grabbed him by the collar. No dog likes to
- see a grown-up use his boy rough, so I moved a little nearer and growled
- at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Answer me,” she says, “why did you allow this beast to come into the
- schoolroom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spot ain't a beast,” says Freckles. “He's my dog.” She stepped to the
- stove and picked up a poker, and come toward me. I dodged, and ran to the
- other side of her desk, and all the scholars laughed. That made her mad,
- and she made a swipe at me with that poker, and she was so sudden that she
- caught me right in the ribs, and I let out a yelp and ran over behind
- Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can't hit my dog like that!” yelled Freckles, mad as a hornet. “No
- teacher that ever lived could lick my dog!” And he burst out crying, and
- ran out of the room, with me after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm done with you,” he sings out from the hall. “Marry your old preacher
- if you want to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then we went out into the middle of the road, and he slung stones at
- the schoolhouse, and yelled names, till the principal came out and chased
- us away.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I was glad, because I saw he was cured. A boy that is anything will
- stick up for his dog, and a dog will stick up for his boy. We went
- swimming, and then we went back as near the schoolhouse as we dast to.
- When school let out, Freckles licked the whole Dalton Gang, one at a time,
- and made each say, before he let him up: “Freckles Watson was never stuck
- on anybody; and if he was, he is cured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They all said it, and then held a meeting; and he was elected president.
- </p>
- <p>
- And me!—I felt so good I went down-town and picked a fuss with a
- butcher's dog that wore a spiked collar. I had always felt a little scared
- of that dog before, but that night I just naturally chewed him to a
- frazzle.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- BILL PATTERSON
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his town,” says
- Squint, quiet, but determined, “has got to be made an example of. It has
- got to learn that it can't laugh at the Dalton Gang and go unscathed.
- Freckled Watson of Dead Man's Gulch,” says he to me, “speak up! What form
- shall the punishment take?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blood,” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two-Gun Tom of Texas,” says he to Tom Mulligan, “speak!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Death!” says Tom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Arizona Pete, speak!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blood and Death,” says Pete Wilson, making his voice deep.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Broncho Bob?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blood, death, and fire!” says Bob Jones.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a solemn pause for a minute, and then I says, according to rule
- and regulation:
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what says Dead-Shot Squint, the Terror of the Plains?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was very serious while one might have counted ten breaths, and then he
- pulled his jack-knife from his pocket and whet it on the palm of his hand,
- and tried its point on his thumb, and replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He says death, and seals it with a vow!”
- </p>
- <p>
- That vow was a mighty solemn thing, and we always felt it so. It wasn't
- the kind of a thing you would ever let small kids or girls know about.
- First you all sat down in a circle, with your feet together, and rolled up
- the sleeve of your left arm. Then the knife was passed around, and each
- drew blood out of his left arm. Then each one got as much blood out of the
- next fellow's arm as he could, in his mouth, and all swallowed
- simultaneous, to show you were going into the thing to the death and no
- turning back. Next we signed our names in a ring, using blood mixed with
- gunpowder. But not on paper, mind you. We signed 'em on parchment. First
- and last, that parchment was a good deal of trouble. If you think skinning
- a squirrel or a rat to get his hide for parchment is an easy trick, just
- try it. Let alone catching them being no snap. But Squint, he was Captain,
- and he was stern on parchment, for it makes an oath more legal, and all
- the old-time outlaws wouldn't look at anything else. But we got a pretty
- good supply ahead by saving all the dead cats and things like that we
- could find, and unless you know likely places to look it would surprise
- you how many dead cats there are in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were in the Horse Thieves' Cave, about a mile from town. It had really
- been used for that, way back before the war. There was a gang pretended to
- be honest settlers like everybody else. But they used to steal horses and
- hide them out in there. When they had a dozen or so of them they'd take
- 'em over to the Mississippi River, which was about thirty miles west, some
- night, and raft 'em down stream and sell 'em at Cairo or St. Louis. That
- went on for years, but along in the fifties, my grandfather said, when <i>he</i>
- was a kid, a couple was hung, and the remainder got across the river and
- went west. The cave was up on the side of a hill in the woods, and
- forgotten about except by a few old-timers. The door-beams had rotted and
- fallen down, and the sand and dirt had slid down over the mouth of it, and
- vines and bushes grown up. No one would have guessed there was any cave
- there at all. But the dogs got to digging around there one afternoon when
- the Dalton Gang was meeting in the woods, and uncovered part of those door
- beams. We dug some more and opened her up. It took a lot of work to clean
- her out, but she was as good as new when we got done with her. We never
- told any one, and the vines and bushes were so thick you could hunt a year
- and never find the opening. It isn't every bunch of kids get a real Horse
- Thieves' Cave ready-made like that, right from the hands of Providence, as
- you might say. Pete Wilson used to brag and say his grand-dad was one of
- those horse-thieves. It made the rest of us feel kind of meek for a time,
- because none of us could claim any honour or grandeur like that in our
- families. But my grand-dad, who has a terrible long memory about the early
- days, said it wasn't so; so far as he could recollect Pete's grand-dad
- never had any ambition above shoats and chickens.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I was telling you about that oath. We were taking it because
- Squint's father, who was mayor, had run on to one of those parchments
- (which Squint ought never to have taken away from the cave), and had asked
- a lot of fool questions about it. Then he threw back his head and laughed
- at the Dalton Gang. It made our blood boil. Hence, our plans for revenge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The time has come,” said Squint, “for a bold stroke. Yonder proud city
- laughs. But he laughs best who laughs last. And ere another sun has set——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last time we took the blood oath,” interrupts Bob Jones, “we didn't
- do anything more important than steal the ice cream from the Methodist
- lawn sociable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There must be no failure,” says Squint, not heeding him, and he jabbed
- the knife into the ground and gritted his teeth. You could see how the
- memory of being laughed at was rankling through his veins.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Squint,” says Tom Mulligan, looking quite a bit worried, “you don't
- <i>really</i> mean to kill any one, do you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squint only says, very haughty: “The blood oath has been sworn. Is there a
- traitor here?” He was always a great one for holding us to it, Squint was,
- unless what he called an Honourable Compromise came into sight. And we all
- got mighty uncomfortable and gloomy trying to think of some Honourable
- Compromise. It was to me that the great idea came, all of a sudden.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squint,” I says, “the thing to do is to kidnap some prominent citizen and
- hold him for ransom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squint brightened up and said to wring gold from the coffers of yonder
- proud city would be even more satisfaction than blood. The next question
- was: Who will we kidnap?
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suggest the mayor of yonder town!” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gee—your dad, Squint?” says Tom Mulligan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I offer him as a sacrifice,” says Squint, very majestically. No one could
- do any more, and we all felt Squint's dad had deserved it. But the idea
- was so big it kind of scared us, too. But while the rest of us were
- admiring Squint, Bob Jones got jealous and offered <i>his</i> father. Then
- we all offered our fathers, except Tom Mulligan, who didn't have anything
- better to offer than a pair of spinster aunts. There was a general row
- over whose father was the most prominent citizen. But finally we decided
- to bar all relatives and kinsfolk, in order to prevent jealousy, even to
- the distant cousins. But it isn't a very big town, and it would surprise
- you how many people are related to each other there. Finally Bill
- Patterson was voted to be the Honourable Compromise, being known as the
- town drunkard, and not related to anybody who would own up to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- It figured out easy enough. All we had to do was to wait until Sunday
- night, and take Bill out of the lockup. Every Saturday afternoon regular
- Si Emery, who was the city marshal, arrested Bill for being drunk on Main
- Street, and Bill was kept in jail until Monday morning. Si was getting
- pretty old and feeble and shaky, and of late years the town council never
- let him have the lock-up key until just an hour or so before it was time
- to arrest Bill on Saturdays. Because one time Si had forgot to feed and
- water a tramp in there for about a week, and the tramp took sick after a
- while, and he was dead when Si remembered about him, and had to be buried
- at the town's expense. And several times some tough customers had taken
- the keys away from Si and broken into the place and played cards and cut
- up in there scandalous for half the night. So it was thought best Si
- shouldn't carry the keys, nor the handcuffs which belonged to the town.
- After he had locked Bill up on Saturday evenings Si would take the keys to
- the mayor's house, and get them again on Monday morning to let Bill out.
- </p>
- <p>
- So the next Sunday night when the hired girl wasn't looking, Squint
- sneaked the keys and the town handcuffs out of the drawer in the kitchen
- table where the knives and forks were kept. He slipped upstairs to bed,
- and no one noticed. About ten o'clock he dressed again, and got out the
- back window, and down the lightning rod; and at the same hour us other
- Daltons were doing much the same.
- </p>
- <p>
- We met behind the lockup, and put on the masks we had made. They had hair
- on the bottoms of them to look like beards sticking out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who's got the dark-lantern?” Squint asks, in a whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “M-m-me,” answered Pete Wilson, stuttering. I was so excited myself I was
- biting my coat-sleeve so my teeth wouldn't chatter. And Bob Jones was
- clicking the trigger of the cavalry pistol his uncle carried in the war,
- and couldn't stop, like a girl can't stop laughing when she gets
- hysterics. The cylinder was gone and it couldn't be loaded or he would
- have killed himself, for he turned it up and looked right into the muzzle
- and kept clicking when Squint asked him what the matter was. Pete shook so
- he couldn't light the lantern; but Squint, he was that calm and cool he
- lit her with the third match. He unlocked the door and in we went.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bill was snoring like all get out, and talking in his sleep. That made us
- feel braver again. Squint says to handcuff him easy and gentle before he
- wakes. Well, there wasn't any trouble in that; the trouble was to wake him
- up afterward. He was so interested in whatever he was dreaming about that
- the only way we could do it was to tickle his nose with a straw and wait
- until he sneezed himself awake. Squint clapped the muzzle of the pistol to
- his forehead, while I flashed the lantern in his eyes and the other three
- sat on his stomach and grabbed his legs. Squint says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “William Patterson, one move and you are a dead man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Bill didn't try to move any; he only said: “Can't an honest
- working-man take a little nap? You go 'way and leave me be!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “William Patterson,” says Squint, “you are kidnapped!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yer a liar,” says Bill. “I ain't. Ye can't prove it on to me. I'm just
- takin' a little nap.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he rouses up a little more and looks at us puzzled, and begins to
- mumble and talk to himself:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here I be,” he says, “and here they be! I can see 'em, all right; but
- they can't fool me! They ain't really nothing here. I seen too many of
- them tremenses come and go to be fooled that easy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Arise, William Patterson, and come with us,” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, you don't want to get too sassy,” says Bill, “or you'll turn into
- something else the first thing <i>you</i> know. You tremenses always does
- turn into something else.” We had to kick him on the shins to make him get
- up. When we did that he says to himself: “Shucks, now! A body'd think he
- was bein' kicked if he didn't know different, wouldn't he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came along peaceable enough, but muttering to himself all the way:
- “Monkeys and crocodiles and these here striped jackasses with wings on to
- 'em I've saw many a time, and argified with 'em, too; and talked with
- elephants no bigger'n a man's fist; and oncet I chased a freight train
- round and round that calaboose and had it give me sass; but this is the
- first time a passel o' little old men ever come and trotted me down the
- pike.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he kept talking like that all the way to the cave. It was midnight
- before we took off his handcuffs and shoved him in. When we gave him that
- shove, he did get sort of spiteful and he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You tremenses think you're mighty smart, but if I was to come out of this
- sudden, where would <i>you</i> be? Blowed up, that's where—like
- bubbles!”
- </p>
- <p>
- We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and by
- the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when we
- lit out for town again.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank,
- we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and
- spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. They
- read as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis
- Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef
- in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- —<i>the kidNappers.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. I
- had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had some
- canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the others
- were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get hold of
- easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave door Bill
- was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with all
- the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not
- ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need have
- no fear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't afeared,” says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly
- believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a hollow
- stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom of it
- through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our fireplace.
- If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only think some farmer
- was burning out stumps.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or
- suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat back
- and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's Illinois,” says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it is,” says he. “So it is!” After he had smoked awhile longer he
- said: “What county in Illinois would you say it was, for choice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bureau county,” I told him. I saw then he hadn't known where he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain't possible, is it,” he says, “that I ever seen any of you boys on
- the streets of a little city by the name of Hazelton?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I told him yes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I s'pose they got the same old city marshal there?” says he. I guess he
- thought maybe he'd been gone for years and years, like Rip Van Winkle. He
- was having a hard time to get things straightened out in his mind. He
- stared and stared into the bowl of his pipe, looking at me now and then
- out of the corners of his eyes as if he wondered whether he could trust me
- or not; finally he leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear,
- awfully anxious: “Who would you say I was, for choice, now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bill Patterson,” I told him, and he brightened up considerable and
- chuckled to himself; and then he said, feeling of himself all over and
- tying on his rope again:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bill Patterson is correct! Been wanderin' around through these here woods
- for weeks an' weeks, livin' on roots an' yarbs like a wild man of Borneo.”
- Then he asks me very confidential: “How long now, if you was to make a
- guess, would you judge Bill had been livin' in this here cave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Squint cut in and told him point blank he was kidnapped. It took a
- long time to get that into Bill's head, but finally he asked: “What for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For ransom,” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And revenge,” says Squint.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bill looked dazed for a minute, and then said if it was all the same to us
- he'd like to have a talk with a lawyer. But Bob Jones broke in and told
- him “Unless five hundred dollars is paid over to the gang, you will never
- see Hazelton again.” He looked frightened at that and began to pick at his
- coat-sleeves, and said he guessed if we didn't mind he'd go and take a
- little nap now. You never saw such a captive for sleeping up his spare
- time; he was just naturally cut out to be a prisoner. But we felt kind of
- sorry and ashamed we had scared him; it was so easy to scare him, and we
- agreed we'd speak gentle and easy to him after that.
- </p>
- <p>
- At dinner time we waked Bill up and gave him another meal. And he was
- ready for it; the sight of victuals seemed to take any fright he might
- have had out of his mind. You never saw such an appetite in all your born
- days; he ate like he had years of lost time to make up for; and maybe he
- had. He was having such a good time he began to have his doubts whether it
- would last, for he said, in a worried kind of way, after dinner: “This
- here thing of being kidnapped, now, ain't a thing you boys is going to try
- and charge for, is it? 'Cause if it is them there sharp tricks can't be
- worked on to me; and if you was to sue me for it you sue a pauper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After dinner Squint and I went to town on a scouting party. We hung around
- the streets and listened to the talk that was going on just like a couple
- of spies would that had entered the enemy's camp in war time. Everybody
- was wondering what had become of Bill, and gassing about the notices; and
- it made us feel mighty proud to think that fame had come to ones so young
- as us, even although it came in disguise so that no one but us knew it.
- But in the midst of that feeling we heard Hy Williams, the city drayman,
- saying to a crowd of fellows who were in front of the post office waiting
- for the mail to be distributed:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The beatingest part of the whole thing is that any one would be fools
- enough to think that this town or any other town would pay ransom to get
- back a worthless cuss like Bill Patterson!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It had never struck us like that before. Instead of being famous like we
- had thought, here we were actually being laughed at again! Squint, he
- gritted his teeth, and I knew all the rankling that he had done inside of
- him was as nothing to the rankling that he was doing now. So that night we
- put up some more notices around town, which read as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>n. B.—take notus! we didunt reely Expect money for Old Bill
- Patterson, we onely done that to show this town Is in Our Power. Take
- warning and pay Up the next will be a rich one or his child.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- —<i>kidnappers.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- That really made folks pretty serious, that notice. There was a piece in a
- Chicago paper about the things that had happened in our town. The piece
- told a lot of things that never had happened, but when the papers came
- down from Chicago and they all read it the whole town began to get worse
- and worse excited. And about that time we began to get scared ourselves.
- For there was talk of sending off to Chicago and getting a detective.
- People were frightened about their kids, too. It kept getting harder and
- harder for us to get out to the cave to guard Bill. Not that he needed
- much guarding, either; for he was having the time of his life out there,
- eating and sleeping and not working at anything else. It had been years
- since he had struck any kind of work that suited him as well as being
- kidnapped did; if we hadn't been so worried it would have been a pleasure
- to us to see how happy and contented we were making him; he acted like he
- had found the real job in life that he had always been looking for, and
- the only thing that bothered him at all was when he recollected about that
- ransom and got afraid the town would pay it and end his snap. But mostly
- he didn't bother about anything; for his recollection was only by fits and
- starts; yesterday was just as far off to him as a year ago. The second day
- he was there he did get a little grouchy because he had been without
- anything to drink for so long. But that night someone broke into the
- saloon and stole a lot of quart bottles of whiskey; about a bushel of
- them, it was said. We didn't suspect it was Bill, right at first, for he
- was foxy enough to keep it hid from us; and when we did know we didn't
- dare say anything! That whiskey was the one thing Bill had lacked to make
- him completely happy. But the theft worked in a way that increased our
- troubles. For it showed people that the mysterious gang was still hanging
- around waiting to strike a desperate stroke. And the very next night a
- store was broken into and some stuff stolen. It wasn't Bill, but I suppose
- some tramp that was hanging around; but it helped to stir things up worse
- and worse. So we decided that we had better turn Bill loose. We held a
- meeting out by the cave, and then Squint told him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Prisoner, you are at liberty!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What d'ye mean by that?” says Bill. “You ain't goin' back on me, are ye?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yonder town has been punished enough,” says Squint. “Go free—we
- strike your shackles off!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But see here,” says Bill, “wasn't I kidnapped reg'lar? Ain't I been a
- model prisoner?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we're through with you, Bill,” we told him. “Don't you understand?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bill allowed it was a mean trick we were playing on him; he said he had
- thought we were his friends, and that he'd done his best to give
- satisfaction in the place, and here we were, firing him, as you might say,
- without any warning, or giving him any chance to get another job like it,
- or even telling him where he had failed to make good, and then he snuffled
- like he was going to cry, and said: “That's a great way to treat an honest
- workin'-man, that is! An' they call this a free country, too!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Squint, while expressing sorrow that we should have raised any false
- hopes, was firm with him, too. “You take the rest of that whiskey and
- chase along, now, Bill,” he said, “you aren't kidnapped any more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Bill flared up at that. “I ain't, ain't I?” he said. “Yer a liar! I
- was kidnapped fair and square; kidnapped I be, and kidnapped I stay! I'll
- show you blamed little cheats whether I'm kidnapped or not, I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took a chew of tobacco and sat down on a log, and studied us, looking
- us over real sullen and spiteful. “Now, then,” he says, finally, “if you
- young smart alecs think you can treat a free man that-a-way yer dern
- fools. I got the law on to my side, I have. Do you think I don't know
- that? Mebby you boys don't know ye could go to jail for kidnappin' an
- honest work-in'-man? Well, ye could, if it was found out on ye. It's a
- crime, that's what it is, and ye could go to jail for it. You treat Old
- Bill fair and square and keep friends with him, and he won't tell on you;
- but the minute I hear any more talk about bein' set at liberty I'll tell
- on ye, and to jail you goes. I'm mighty comfortable where I be, and I
- ain't goin' to be turned out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We all looked at each other, and then we looked away again, and our hearts
- sank. For each one read in his neighbour's eyes (as Squint said later)
- what his doom might well be.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kidnapped I be,” says Bill again, very rough and decided, “and kidnapped
- I stay. And what's more, I want chicken for supper to-night. I ain't had
- no chicken for quite a spell. You can wake me up when supper's ready.” And
- he went into the cave and lay down for a nap.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were in his power, and he knew it!
- </p>
- <p>
- We had to steal that chicken, and it went against the grain to do it. It
- was the first time in its career of crime the Dalton Gang had ever
- actually stolen anything. Except, of course, watermelons and such truck,
- which isn't really stealing. And except the ice cream from the Methodist
- lawn sociable, which was for revenge and as a punishment on the Sunday
- School, and so not really stealing, either.
- </p>
- <p>
- Things got worse and worse. For Bill, he kept us on the jump. He got to
- wanting more and more different things to eat, and was more and more
- particular about the cooking. He wouldn't lift a hand for himself, not
- even to fill and light his own pipe. We waited on him hand and foot, all
- day long. And first he would take a fancy for a mess of squirrels, and
- then he would want pigeons; and we had to take turns fanning the flies off
- of him when he wanted to take a nap. Once he told a story, and we all
- laughed at it; and that gave him the idea he was a great story teller; and
- he would tell foolish yarns by the hour and get sulky if we didn't laugh.
- We got so we would do anything to keep him in a good humour. We had a lot
- of Indian stories and Old Sleuths out to the cave, and he made us take
- turns reading to him. That good-for-nothing loafer turned into a regular
- king, and we were his slaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between sneaking out there to keep him happy and contented and rustling up
- grub for him, and thinking all the time we would be arrested the next
- minute, and wanting to confess and not daring to, we all got right
- nervous. Then there was a man came to town who didn't tell what his
- business was the first day he was there, and we were right sure he was a
- detective. He passed right by the cave one day, and we hugged the ground
- behind the bushes and didn't dare breathe. It turned out afterward he was
- only looking at some land he was figuring on buying. But that night I
- dreamed that that man arrested me; and I was being sent to jail when I
- waked up screaming out something about kidnapping. I heard my Pa say to my
- Ma, after they had got me quieted down:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor little fellow! He thought he was kidnapped! No wonder he is afraid,
- the state this whole town is in. If those desperadoes are caught, they'll
- go to the pen for a good long term: nothing on earth can save 'em from a
- Bureau county jury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he went back into his room and went to sleep; but I didn't go to
- sleep. What he had said didn't make me feel sleepy. I slipped out of bed
- and prayed enough that night to make up for the times I had forgot it
- lately; and the next day the rest of the Dalton Gang admitted they had
- prayed some, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the worst of all was when Bill made friends with the tramp. Squint and
- I went out to the cave one morning to get Bill's breakfast for him, and as
- we got near we heard two sets of snores. Bill's snore you could tell a
- long way off, he sort of gargled his snores and they ended up with kind of
- a choke and an explosion. But the other snore was more of a steady
- whistling sound. We ran across the fellow sudden, and it like to have
- frightened us out of a year's growth. He was lying just inside the cave
- with his hat pulled over his face, but he was snoring with one eye open.
- It peered out from under the brim of his hat; it was half-hidden, but it
- was open all right, and it was staring straight at us. It wasn't human; no
- one with good intentions would lie there like that and snore like he was
- asleep and watch folks at the same time on the sly. We couldn't even run;
- we stood there with that regular see-saw snore coming and going, and that
- awful eye burning into the centres of our souls, as Squint says later, and
- thought our end had come. But he waked up and opened the other eye, and
- then we saw the first one was glass and he hadn't meant any harm by it. He
- was right sorry he'd scared us, he said; but we'd have to get used to that
- eye, for <i>he</i> allowed he was kidnapped, too. It was two days before
- he quit being our captive and left, and they are among the saddest days I
- ever spent.
- </p>
- <p>
- He left because Bill's whiskey was gone; and the afternoon he left, Bill
- was helpless. When we saw Bill in that fix it gave us an idea how to get
- rid of him. That night he was still weak and easy to handle. So we slipped
- the handcuffs on him and took him back and locked him into the calaboose
- again. Then we put signs and notices around town that read this way:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Ha Ha Ha</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Did you ever get left! this town joshed me for years but I have got
- even—the joke is on to you—I wasn't kidnapped a tall—who
- is the suckers now?</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Bill Patterson.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- And that town was so mad that when they found Bill in the jail again there
- was talk of handling him pretty rough. But it all turned into josh. Bill,
- when he woke up in the calaboose, thought he had just had a dream at
- first, and denied he had ever been absent. Then when he saw they all took
- him for a deep joker he began to act like he was a joker. And before long
- he got to thinking he really had played that trick on the town. When they
- used to ask him how on earth he got into and out of the calaboose without
- the keys, he would wink very mysterious, and look important, and nod and
- chuckle to himself and say that was the best part of the joke and he
- intended to keep it to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- But one day when he was almost sober he saw Squint and me on the street
- and stared at us long and hard like he was trying to recollect something,
- and scratched his head and said: “You boys didn't always used to live in
- this town, did you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh,” says I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's funny,” says Bill, “I could have swore you was boys I once knowed
- a long ways off from here that time I was on my travels.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- BLOOD WILL TELL (As told by the dog)
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am a middle-sized
- dog, with spots on me here and there, and several different colours of
- hair mixed in even where there aren't any spots, and my ears are frazzled
- a little on the ends where they have been chewed in fights.
- </p>
- <p>
- At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I
- was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost
- feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from
- dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it.
- </p>
- <p>
- I can well remember the afternoon on which the discovery was made. A lot
- of us dogs were lying in the grass, up by the swimming hole, just lazying
- around, and the boys were doing the same. All the boys were naked and
- comfortable, and no humans were about, the only thing near being a cow or
- two and some horses, and although large they are scarcely more human than
- boys. Everybody had got tired of swimming, and it was too hot to drown out
- gophers or fight bumblebees, and the boys were smoking grapevine
- cigarettes and talking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Us dogs was listening to the boys talk. A Stray Boy, which I mean one not
- claimed or looked out for or owned by any dog, says to Freckles Watson,
- who is my boy:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What breed would you call that dog of yours, Freck?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I pricked up my ears at that. I cannot say that I had ever set great store
- by breeds up to the time that I found out I was an aristocrat myself,
- believing, as Bill Patterson, a human and the town drunkard, used to say
- when intoxicated, that often an honest heart beats beneath the outcast's
- ragged coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spot ain't any <i>one</i> particular breed,” says Freckles. “He's
- considerably mixed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's a mongrel,” says Squint Thompson, who is Jack Thompson's boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He ain't,” says Freckles, so huffy that I saw a mongrel must be some sort
- of a disgrace. “You're a link, link liar, and so's your Aunt Mariar,” says
- Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought there might be a fight then, but it was too hot for any
- enjoyment in a fight, I guess, for Squint let it pass, only saying, “I
- ain't got any Aunt Mariar, and you're another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A dog,” chips in the Stray Boy, “has either got to be a thoroughbred or a
- mongrel. He's either an aristocrat or else he's a common dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spot ain't any common dog,” says Freckles, sticking up for me. “He can
- lick any dog in town within five pounds of his weight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's got some spaniel in him,” says the Stray Boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His nose is pointed like a hound's nose,” says Squint Thompson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” says Freckles, “neither one of them kind of dogs is a common dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spot has got some bulldog blood in him, too,” says Tom Mulligan, an Irish
- boy owned by a dog by the name of Mutt Mulligan. “Did you ever notice how
- Spot will hang on so you can't pry him loose, when he gets into a fight?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That proves he is an aristocratic kind of dog,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's some bird dog blood in Spot,” says the Stray Boy, sizing me up
- careful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's got some collie in him, too,” says Squint Thompson. “His voice
- sounds just like a collie's when he barks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But his tail is more like a coach dog's tail,” says Tom Mulligan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His hair ain't, though,” says the Stray Boy. “Some of his hair is like a
- setter's.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His teeth are like a mastiff's,” says Mutt Mulligan's boy Tom. And they
- went on like that; I never knew before there were so many different kinds
- of thoroughbred dog. Finally Freckles says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he's got all them different kinds of thoroughbred blood in him, and
- he's got other kinds you ain't mentioned and that you ain't slick enough
- to see. You may think you're running him down, but what you say just <i>proves</i>
- he ain't a common dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was glad to hear that. It was beginning to look to me that they had a
- pretty good case for me being a mongrel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How does it prove it?” asked the Stray Boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” says Freckles, “you know who the King of Spain is, don't you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- They said they'd heard of him from time to time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation of the King of Spain you'd
- be a member of the Spanish royal family. You fellows may not know that,
- but you would. You'd be a swell, a regular high-mucky-muck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They said they guessed they would.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then,” says Freckles, “if you were a relation to the King of
- Switzerland, too, you'd be just <i>twice</i> as swell, wouldn't you, as if
- you were only related to one royal family? Plenty of people are related to
- just <i>one</i> royal family.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom Mulligan butts in and says that way back, in the early days, his folks
- was the Kings of Ireland; but no one pays any attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose, then, you're a cousin of the Queen of England into the bargain
- and your grand-dad was King of Scotland, and the Prince of Wales and the
- Emperor of France and the Sultan of Russia and the rest of those royalties
- were relations of yours, wouldn't all that royal blood make you <i>twenty
- times</i> as much of a high-mucky-muck as if you had just <i>one</i>
- measly little old king for a relation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boys had to admit that it would.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn't call a fellow with all that royal blood in him a <i>mongrel</i>,
- would you?” says Freckles. “You bet your sweet life you wouldn't! A fellow
- like that is darned near on the level with a congressman or a
- vicepresident. Whenever he travels around in the old country they turn out
- the brass band; and the firemen and the Knights of Pythias and the Modern
- Woodmen parade, and the mayor makes a speech, and there's a picnic and
- firecrackers, and he gets blamed near anything he wants. People kow-tow to
- him, just like they do to a swell left-handed pitcher or a champion
- prizefighter. If you went over to the old country and called a fellow like
- that a mongrel, and it got out oh you, you would be sent to jail for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom Mulligan says yes, that is so; his grand-dad came to this country
- through getting into some kind of trouble about the King of England, and
- the King of England ain't anywhere near as swell as the fellow Freckles
- described, nor near so royal, neither.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “it's the same way with my dog, Spot, here.
- <i>Any</i> dog can be full of just <i>one</i> kind of thoroughbred blood.
- That's nothing! But Spot here has got more different kinds of thoroughbred
- blood in him than any dog you ever saw. By your own say-so he has. He's
- got <i>all</i> kinds of thoroughbred blood in him. If there's any kind he
- ain't got, you just name it, will you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He ain't got any Great Dane in him,” yells the Stray Boy, hating to
- knuckle under.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a liar, he has, too,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Stray Boy backed it, and there was a fight. All us dogs and boys
- gathered around in a ring to watch it, and I was more anxious than anybody
- else. For the way that fight went, it was easy to see, would decide what I
- was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, Freckles licked that Stray Boy, and rubbed his nose in the mud, and
- that's how I come to be an aristocrat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being an aristocrat may sound easy. And it may look easy to outsiders. And
- it may really be easy for them that are used to it. But it wasn't easy for
- <i>me</i>. It came on me suddenly, the knowledge that I was one, and
- without warning. I didn't have any time to practise up being one. One
- minute I wasn't one, and the next minute I was; and while, of course, I
- felt important over it, there were spells when I would get kind of
- discouraged, too, and wish I could go back to being a common dog again. I
- kept expecting my tastes and habits to change. I watched and waited for
- them to. But they didn't. No change at all set in on me. But I had to
- pretend I was changed. Then I would get tired of pretending, and be
- down-hearted about the whole thing, and say to myself: “There has been a
- mistake. I am <i>not</i> an aristocrat after all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I might have gone along like that for a long time, partly in joy over my
- noble birth, and partly in doubt, without ever being certain, if it had
- not been for a happening which showed, as Freckles said, that blood will
- tell.
- </p>
- <p>
- It happened the day Wilson's World's Greatest One Ring Circus and
- Menagerie came to our town. Freckles and me, and all the other dogs and
- boys, and a good many humans, too, followed the street parade around
- through town and back to the circus lot. Many went in, and the ones that
- didn't have any money hung around outside a while and explained to each
- other they were going at night, because a circus is more fun at night
- anyhow. Freckles didn't have any money, but his dad was going to take him
- that night, so when the parade was over, him and me went back to his dad's
- drug store on Main Street, and I crawled under the soda-water counter to
- take a nap.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles's dad, that everyone calls Doc Watson, is a pretty good fellow
- for a human, and he doesn't mind you hanging around the store if you don't
- drag bones in or scratch too many fleas off. So I'm there considerable in
- right hot weather. Under the soda water counter is the coolest place for a
- dog in the whole town. There's a zinc tub under there always full of
- water, where Doc washes the soda-water glasses, and there's always
- considerable water slopped on to the floor. It's damp and dark there
- always. Outdoors it may be so hot in the sun that your tongue hangs out of
- you so far you tangle your feet in it, but in under there you can lie
- comfortable and snooze, and when you wake up and want a drink there's the
- tub with the glasses in it. And flies don't bother you because they stay
- on top of the counter where soda water has been spilled.
- </p>
- <p>
- Circus day was a hot one, and I must have drowsed off pretty quick after
- lying down. I don't know how long I slept, but when I waked up it was with
- a start, for something important was going on outside in Main Street. I
- could hear people screaming and swearing and running along the wooden
- sidewalk, and horses whinnying, and dogs barking, and old Si Emery, the
- city marshal, was yelling out that he was an officer of the law, and the
- steam whistle on the flour mill was blowing. And it all seemed to be right
- in front of our store. I was thinking I'd better go out and see about it,
- when the screen doors crashed like a runaway horse had come through them,
- and the next minute a big yellow dog was back of the counter, trying to
- scrouch down and scrooge under it like he was scared and was hiding. He
- backed me into the corner without seeing me or knowing I was there, and
- like to have squashed me.
- </p>
- <p>
- No dog—and it never struck me that maybe this wasn't a dog—no
- dog can just calmly sit down on me like that when I'm waking up from a
- nap, and get away with it, no matter <i>how</i> big he is, and in spite of
- the darkness under there I could see and feel that this was the biggest
- dog in the world. I had been dreaming I was in a fight, anyhow, when he
- crowded in there with his hindquarters on top of me, and I bit him on the
- hind leg.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I bit him he let out a noise like a thrashing machine starting up. It
- wasn't a bark. Nothing but the end of the world coming could bark like
- that. It was a noise more like I heard one time when the boys dared
- Freckles to lie down between the cattle guards on the railroad track and
- let a train run over him about a foot above his head, and I laid down
- there with him and it nearly deefened both of us. When he let out that
- noise I says to myself, “Great guns! What kind of a dog have I bit?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And as he made that noise he jumped, and over went the counter, marble top
- and all, with a smash, and jam into the show window he went, with his tail
- swinging, and me right after him, practically on top of him. It wasn't
- that I exactly intended to chase him, you understand, but I was rattled on
- account of that awful noise he had let out, and I wanted to get away from
- there, and I went the same way he did. So when he bulged through the
- window glass on to the street I bulged right after him, and as he hit the
- sidewalk I bit him again. The first time I bit him because I was sore, but
- the second time I bit him because I was so nervous I didn't know what I
- was doing, hardly. And at the second bite, without even looking behind
- him, he jumped clean over the hitch rack and a team of horses in front of
- the store and landed right in the middle of the road with his tail between
- his legs.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then I realized for the first time he wasn't a dog at all. He was the
- circus lion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mind you, I'm not saying that I would have bit him at all if I'd a-known
- at the start he was a lion.
- </p>
- <p>
- And I ain't saying I <i>wouldn't</i> 'a' bit him, either.
- </p>
- <p>
- But actions speak louder than words, and records are records, and you
- can't go back on them, and the fact is I <i>did</i> bite him. I bit him
- twice.
- </p>
- <p>
- And that second bite, when we came bulging through the window together,
- the whole town saw. It was getting up telephone poles, and looking out of
- second-story windows, and crawling under sidewalks and into cellars, and
- trying to hide behind the town pump; but no matter where it was trying to
- get to, it had one eye on that lion, and it saw me chasing him out of that
- store. I don't say I would have chased him if he hadn't been just ahead of
- me, anyhow, and I don't say I wouldn't have chased him, but the facts are
- I <i>did</i> chase him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lion was just as scared as the town—and the town was so scared
- it didn't know the lion was scared at all—and when his trainer got
- hold of him in the road he was tickled to death to be led back to his
- cage, and he lay down in the far corner of it, away from the people, and
- trembled till he shook the wagon it was on.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if there was any further doubts in any quarter about me being an
- aristocrat, the way I bit and chased that lion settled 'em forever. That
- night Freckles and Doc went to the circus, and I marched in along with
- them. And every kid in town, as they saw Freckles and me marching in,
- says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There goes the dog that licked the lion!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Freckles, every time any one congratulated him on being the boy that
- belonged to that kind of a dog, would say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blood will tell! Spot's an aristocrat, he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And him and me and Doc Watson, his dad, stopped in front of the lion's
- cage that night and took a good long look at him. He was a kind of an old
- moth-eaten lion, but he was a lion all right, and he looked mighty big in
- there. He looked so big that all my doubts come back on me, and I says to
- myself: “Honest, now, if I'd <i>a-known</i> he was a lion, and that <i>big</i>
- a lion, when I bit him, <i>would</i> I have bit him or would I not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But just then Freckles reached down and patted me on the head and said:
- “You wasn't afraid of him, was you, old Spot! Yes, sir, blood will tell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- BEING A PUBLIC CHARACTER (As told by the dog)
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>ver since I bit a
- circus lion, believing him to be another dog like myself, only larger, I
- have been what Doc Watson calls a Public Character in our town.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, my boy, was a kind of a public character, too. He went around
- bragging about my noble blood and bravery, and all the other boys and dogs
- in town sort of looked up to him and thought how lucky he was to belong to
- a dog like me. And he deserved whatever glory he got of it, Freckles did.
- For, if I do say it myself, there's not a dog in town got a better boy
- than my boy Freckles, take him all in all. I'll back him against any dog's
- boy that is anywhere near his size, for fighting, swimming, climbing,
- foot-racing, or throwing stones farthest and straightest. Or I'll back him
- against any stray boy, either.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, some dogs may be born Public Characters, and like it. And some may
- be brought up to like it. I've seen dogs in those travelling Uncle Tom's
- Cabin shows that were so stuck on themselves they wouldn't hardly notice
- us town dogs. But with me, becoming a Public Character happened all in a
- flash, and it was sort of hard for me to get used to it. One day I was
- just a private kind of a dog, as you might say, eating my meals at the
- Watson's back door, and pretending to hunt rats when requested, and not
- scratching off too many fleas in Doc Watson's drug store, and standing out
- from underfoot when told, and other unremarkable things like that. And the
- next day I had bit that lion and was a Public Character, and fame came so
- sudden I scarcely knew how to act.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even drummers from big places like St. Louis and Chicago would come into
- the drug store and look at my teeth and toe nails, as if they must be
- different from other dogs' teeth and toe nails. And people would come
- tooting up to the store in their little cars, and get out and look me over
- and say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Doc, what'll you take for him?” and Doc would wink, and say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's Harold's dog. You ask Harold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Which Harold is Freckles's other name. But any boy that calls him Harold
- outside of the schoolhouse has got a fight on his hands, if that boy is
- anywhere near Freckles's size. Harry goes, or Hal goes, but Harold is a
- fighting word with Freckles. Except, of course, with grown people. I heard
- him say one day to Tom Mulligan, his parents thought Harold was a name, or
- he guessed they wouldn't have given it to him; but it wasn't a name, it
- was a handicap.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles would always say, “Spot ain't for sale.” And even Heinie
- Hassenyager, the butcher, got stuck on me after I got to be a Public
- Character. Heinie would come two blocks up Main Street with lumps of
- Hamburg steak, which is the kind someone has already chewed for you, and
- give them to me. Steak, mind you, not old gristly scraps. And before I
- became a Public Character Heinie even grudged me the bones I would drag
- out of the box under his counter when he wasn't looking.
- </p>
- <p>
- My daily hope was that I could live up to it all. I had always tried,
- before I happened to bite that lion, to be a friendly kind of a dog toward
- boys and humans and dogs, all three. I'd always been expected to do a
- certain amount of tail-wagging and be friendly. But as soon as I got to be
- a Public Character, I saw right away I wasn't expected to be <i>too</i>
- friendly any more. So, every now and then, I'd growl a little, for no
- reason at all. A dog that has bit a lion is naturally expected to have
- fierce thoughts inside of him; I could see that. And you have got to act
- the way humans expect you to act, if you want to slide along through the
- world without too much trouble.
- </p>
- <p>
- So when Heinie would bring me the ready-chewed steak I'd growl at him a
- little bit. And then I'd bolt and gobble the steak like I didn't think so
- derned much of it, after all, and was doing Heinie a big personal favour
- to eat it. And now and then I'd pretend I wasn't going to eat a piece of
- it unless it was chewed finer for me, and growl at him about that.
- </p>
- <p>
- That way of acting made a big hit with Heinie, too. I could see that he
- was honoured and flattered because I didn't go any further than just a
- growl. It gave him a chance to say he knew how to manage animals. And the
- more I growled, the more steak he brought. Everybody in town fed me. I
- pretty near ate myself to death for a while there, besides all the meat I
- buried back of Doc Watson's store to dig up later.
- </p>
- <p>
- But my natural disposition is to be friendly. I would rather be loved than
- feared, which is what Bill Patterson, the village drunkard, used to say.
- When they put him into the calaboose every Saturday afternoon he used to
- look out between the bars on the back window and talk to the boys and dogs
- that had gathered round and say that he thanked them one and all for
- coming to an outcast's dungeon as a testimonial of affection, and he would
- rather be loved than feared. And my natural feelings are the same. I had
- to growl and keep dignified and go on being a Public Character, but often
- I would say to myself that it was losing me all my real friends, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- The worst of it was that people, after a week or so, began to expect me to
- pull something else remarkable. Freckles, he got up a circus, and charged
- pins and marbles, and cents when he found any one that had any, to get
- into it, and I was the principal part of that circus. I was in a cage, and
- the sign over me read:
- </p>
- <h3>
- SPOT, THE DOG THAT LICKED A LION
- </h3>
- <h3>
- TEN PINS ADMITTION
- </h3>
- <p>
- To feed the lion-eater, one cent or two white chiney marbles extry but
- bring your own meat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pat him once on the head twinty pins, kids under five not allowed to.
- </p>
- <p>
- For shaking hands with Spot the lion-eater, girls not allowed, gents three
- white chinies, or one aggie marble.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lead him two blocks down the street and back, one cent before starting, no
- marbles or pins taken for leading him.
- </p>
- <p>
- For sicking him on to cats three cents or one red cornelian marble if you
- furnish the cat. Five cents to use Watson's cat. Watson's biggest Tom-cat
- six cents must be paid before sicking. Small kids and girls not allowed to
- sick him on cats.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, we didn't take in any cat-sicking money. And it was just as well.
- You never can tell what a cat will do. But Freckles put it in because it
- sounded sort of fierce. I didn't care for being caged and circused that
- way myself. And it was right at that circus that considerable trouble
- started.
- </p>
- <p>
- Seeing me in a cage like that, all famoused-up, with more meat poked
- through the slats than two dogs could eat, made Mutt Mulligan and some of
- my old friends jealous.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mutt, he nosed up by the cage and sniffed. I nosed a piece of meat out of
- the cage to him. Mutt grabbed it and gobbled it down, but he didn't thank
- me any. Mutt, he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's a new dog down town that says he blew in from Chicago. He says he
- used to be a Blind Man's Dog on a street corner there. He's a pretty wise
- dog, and he's a right ornery-looking dog, too. He's peeled considerably
- where he has been bit in fights.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Mutt,” says I, “as far as that goes I'm peeled considerable myself
- where I've been bit in fights.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know you are, Spot,” says Mutt. “You don't need to tell me that. I've
- peeled you some myself from time to time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” I says, “you did peel me some, Mutt. And I've peeled you some, too.
- More'n that, I notice that right leg of yours is a little stiff yet where
- I got to it about three weeks ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, Spot,” says Mutt, “maybe you want to come down here and see
- what you can do to my other three legs. I never saw the day I wouldn't
- give you a free bite at one leg and still be able to lick you on the other
- three.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn't talk that way if I was out of this cage,” I says, getting
- riled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did you ever let yourself be put into that fool cage for?” Mutt
- says. “You didn't have to. You got such a swell head on you the last week
- or so that you gotto be licked. You can fool boys and humans all you want
- to about that accidental old lion, but us dogs got your number, all right.
- What that Blind Man's Dog from Chicago would do to you would be a plenty!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” I says, “I'll be out of this cage along about supper time.
- Suppose you bring that Blind Man's Dog around here. And if he ain't got a
- spiked collar on to him, I'll fight him. I won't fight a spike-collared
- dog to please anybody.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And I wouldn't, neither, without I had one on myself, If you can't get a
- dog by the throat or the back of his neck, what's the use of fighting him?
- You might just as well try to eat a blacksmith shop as fight one of those
- spike-collared dogs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hey, there!” Freckles yelled at Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's boy.
- “You get your fool dog away from the lion-eaters cage!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom, he histed Mutt away. But he says to Freckles, being jealous himself,
- “Don't be scared, Freck, I won't let my dog hurt yours any. Spot, he's
- safe. He's in a cage where Mutt can't get to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles got riled. He says, “1 ain't in any cage, Tom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom, he didn't want to fight very bad. But all the other boys and dogs was
- looking on. And he'd sort of started it. He didn't figure that he could
- shut up that easy. And there was some girls there, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “you'd wish you was in a
- cage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he didn't want to fight so bad, either. But he was running this
- circus, and he didn't feel he could afford to pass by what Tom said too
- easy. So he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe you think you're big enough to put me into a cage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I was to make a pass at you,” says Tom, “there wouldn't be enough left
- of you to put in a cage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “why don't you make a pass at me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe you figure I don't dast to,” says Tom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't say you didn't dast to,” says Freckles; “any one that says I
- said you didn't dast to is a link, link, liar, and so's his Aunt Mariar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom, he says, “I ain't got any Aunt Mariar. And you're another and dastn't
- back it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then some of the other kids put chips on to their shoulders. And each
- dared the other to knock his chip off. And the other kids pushed and
- jostled them into each other till both chips fell off, and they went at it
- then. Once they got started they got really mad and each did all he knew
- how.
- </p>
- <p>
- And right in the midst of it Mutt run in and bit Freckles on the calf of
- his leg. Any dog will fight for his boy when his boy is getting the worst
- of it. But when Mutt did that I give a bulge against the wooden slats on
- the cage and two of them came off, and I was on top of Mutt. The circus
- was in the barn, and the hens began to scream and the horses began to
- stomp, and all the boys yelled, “Sick 'im!” and “Go to it!” and danced
- around and hollered, and the little girls yelled, and all the other dogs
- began to bark, and it was a right lively and enjoyable time. But Mrs.
- Watson, Freckles's mother, and the hired girl ran out from the house and
- broke the fight up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grown women are like that. They don't want to fight themselves, and they
- don't seem to want any one else to have any fun. You gotto be a hypocrite
- around a grown woman to get along with her at all. And then she'll feed
- you and make a lot of fuss over you. But the minute you start anything
- with real enjoyment in it she's surprised to see you acting that way.
- Nobody was licked satisfactory in that fight, or licked any one else
- satisfactory.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, that night after supper, along comes that Blind Man's Dog. Never did
- I see a Blind Man's Dog that was as tight-skinned. I ain't a dog that
- brags, myself, and I don't say I would have licked that heavy a dog right
- easy, even if he had been a loose-skinned dog. What I do say is that I had
- been used to fighting looseskinned dogs that you can get some sort of a
- reasonable hold on to while you are working around for position. And
- running into a tight-skinned dog that way, all of a sudden and all
- unprepared for it, would make anybody nervous. How are you going to get a
- purchase on a tight-skinned dog when you've been fighting looseskinned
- dogs for so long that your teeth and jaws just naturally set themselves
- for a loose-skinned dog without thinking of it?
- </p>
- <p>
- Lots of dogs wouldn't have fought him at all when they realized how they
- had been fooled about him, and how tight-skinned he was. But I was a
- Public Character now, and I had to fight him. More than that, I ain't
- ready to say yet that that dog actually licked me. Freckles he hit him in
- the ribs with a lump of soft coal, and he got off of me and run away
- before I got my second wind. There's no telling what I would have done to
- that Blind Man's Dog, tight-skinned as he was, if he hadn't run away
- before I got my second wind.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, there's some mighty peculiar dogs in this world, let alone boys and
- humans. The word got around town, in spite of his running away like that
- before I got my second wind, that that Blind Man's Dog, so called, had
- actually licked me! Many pretended to believe it. Every time Freckles and
- me went down the street someone would say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, the dog that licked the lion got licked himself, did he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And if it was a lady said it, Freckles would spit on the sidewalk through
- the place where his front teeth are out and pass on politely as if he
- hadn't heard, and say nothing. And if it was a man that said it Freckles
- would thumb his nose at him. And if it was a girl that said it he would
- rub a handful of sand into her hair. And if it was a boy anywhere near his
- size, there would be a fight. If it was too big a boy, Freckles would
- sling railroad iron at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a week or so it looked like Freckles and I were fighting all the time.
- Three or four times a day, and every day. Oft the way to school, and all
- through recess-times, and after school, and every time we went on to the
- street. I got so chewed and he got so busted up that we didn't hardly
- enjoy life.
- </p>
- <p>
- No matter how much you may like to fight, some of the time you would like
- to pick the fights yourself and not have other people picking them off of
- you. Kids begun to fight Freckles that wouldn't have dast to stand up to
- him a month before. I was still a Public Character, but I was getting to
- be the kind you josh about instead of the kind you are proud to feed. I
- didn't care so awful much for myself, but I hated it for Freckles. For
- when they got us pretty well hacked, all the boys began to call him Harold
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- And after they had called him Harold for a week he must have begun to
- think of himself as Harold. For one Saturday afternoon when there wasn't
- any school, instead of going swimming with the other kids or playing
- baseball, or anything, he went and played with girls.
- </p>
- <p>
- He must have been pretty well down-hearted and felt himself pretty much of
- an outcast, or he wouldn't have done that. I am an honest dog, and the
- truth must be told, the disgrace along with everything else, and the truth
- is that he played with girls of his own accord that day—not because
- he was sent to their house on an errand, not because it was a game got up
- with boys and girls together, not because it was cousins and he couldn't
- dodgje them, but because he was an outcast. Any boy will play with girls
- when all the boys and girls are playing together, and some girls are
- nearly as good as boys; but no boy is going off alone to look up a bunch
- of girls and play with them without being coaxed unless he has had
- considerable of a down-fall.
- </p>
- <p>
- Right next to the side of our yard was the Wilkinses. They had a bigger
- house and a bigger yard than ours. Freckles was sitting on the top of the
- fence looking into their orchard when the three Wilkins girls came out to
- play. There was only two boys in the Wilkins family, and they was twins;
- but they were only year-old babies and didn't amount to anything. The two
- oldest Wilkins girls, the taffy-coloured-haired one and the squint-eyed
- one, each had one of the twins, taking care of it. And the other Wilkins
- girl, the pretty one, she had one of those big dolls made as big as a
- baby.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were rolling those babies and the doll around the grass in a
- wheelbarrow, and the wheel came off, and that's how Freckles happened to
- go over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Up in the attic,” says the taffy-coloured-haired one, when he had fixed
- up the wheelbarrow, “there's a little old express wagon with one wheel off
- that would be better'n this wheelbarrow. Maybe you could fix that wheel
- on, too, Harold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he fell for it. After he got the wagon fixed, they got to
- playing charades and fool girl games like that. The hired girl was off for
- the afternoon, and pretty soon Mrs. Wilkins hollered up the stairs that
- she was going to be gone for an hour, and to take good care of the twins,
- and then we were alone in the place.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, it wasn't much fun for me. They played and they played, and I stuck
- to Freckles—which his name was called nothing but Harold all that
- afternoon, and for the first time I said to myself “Harold” seemed to fit.
- I stuck to him because a dog should stick to his boy, and a boy should
- stick to his dog, no matter what the disgrace. But after while I got
- pretty tired and lay down on a rug, and a new kind of flea struck me.
- After I had chased him down and cracked him with my teeth I went to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must have slept pretty sound and pretty long. All of a sudden I waked up
- with a start, and almost choking, for the place was smoky. I barked and no
- one answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- I ran out on to the landing, and the whole house was full of smoke. The
- house was on fire, and it looked like I was alone in it. I went down the
- back stairway, which didn't seem so full of smoke, but the door that let
- out on to the first-floor landing was locked, and I had to go back up
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time I got back up, the front stairway was a great deal fuller of
- smoke, and I could see glints of flame winking through it way down below.
- But it was my only way out of that place. On the top step I stumbled over
- a gray wool bunch of something or other, and I picked it up in my mouth.
- Thinks I, “That is Freckles's gray sweater, that he is so stuck on. I
- might as well take it down to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It wasn't so hard for a lively dog to get out of a place like that, I
- thought. But I got kind of confused and excited, too. And it struck me all
- of a sudden, by the time I was down to the second floor, that that sweater
- weighed an awful lot.
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 dropped it on the second floor, and ran into one of the front bedrooms
- and looked out.
- </p>
- <p>
- By jings! the whole town was in the front yard and in the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- And in the midst of the crowd was Mrs. Wilkins, carrying on like mad.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My baby!” she yelled. “Save my baby. Let me loose! I'm going after my
- baby!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I stood up on my hind legs, with my head just out of that bedroom window,
- and the flame and smoke licking up all around me, and barked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My doggie! My doggie!” yells Freckles, who was in the crowd, “I must save
- my doggie!” And he made a run for the house, but someone grabbed him and
- slung him back.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mrs. Wilkins made a run, but they held her, too. The front of the
- house was one sheet of flame. Old Pop Wilkins, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, was
- jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Wilkins yelling, here was her baby.
- He had a real baby in one arm and that big doll in the other, and was so
- excited he thought he had both babies. Later I heard what had happened.
- The kids had thought they were getting out with both twins but one of them
- had saved the doll and left a twin behind. The squint-eyed girl and the
- taffy-coloured-haired girl and the pretty girl was howling as loud as
- their mother. And every now and then some man would make a rush for the
- front door, but the fire would drive him back. And everyone was yelling
- advice to everyone else, except one man who was calling on the whole town
- to get him an axe. The volunteer fire engine was there, but there wasn't
- any water to squirt through it, and it had been backed up too near the
- house and had caught fire and was burning up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I thinks that baby will likely turn up in the crowd somewhere, after
- all, and I'd better get out of there myself while the getting was good. I
- ran out of the bedroom, and run into that bunched-up gray bundle again.
- </p>
- <p>
- I ain't saying that I knew it was the missing twin in a gray shawl when I
- picked it up the second time. And I ain't saying that I didn't know it.
- But the fact is that I did pick it up. I don't make any brag that I would
- have risked my life to save Freckles's sweater. It may be I was so rattled
- I just picked it up because I had had it in my mouth before and didn't
- quite know what I was doing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the <i>record</i> is something you can't go behind, and the record is
- that I got out the back way and into the back yard with that bundle
- swinging from my mouth, and walked round into the front yard and laid that
- bundle down—<i>and it was the twin!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 don't make any claim that I <i>knew</i> it was the twin till I got into
- the front yard, mind you. But you can't prove I <i>didn't</i> know it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- And nobody tried to prove it. The gray bundle let out a squall.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My baby!” yells Mrs. Wilkins. And she kissed me! I rubbed it off with my
- paw. And then the taffy-coloured-haired one kissed me. And the first thing
- I knew the pretty one kissed me. But when I saw the squint-eyed one coming
- I got behind Freckles and barked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three cheers for Spot!” yelled the whole town. And they give them.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then I saw what the lay of the land was, so 1 wagged my tail and
- barked.
- </p>
- <p>
- It called for that hero stuff, and I throwed my head up and looked noble—and
- pulled it.
- </p>
- <p>
- An hour before Freckles and me had been outcasts. And now we was Public
- Characters again. We walked down Main Street, and we owned it. And we
- hadn't any more than got to Doc Watson's drug store than in rushed Heinie
- Hassenyager with a lump of Hamburg steak, and with tears in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's got chicken livers mixed in it, too!” says Heinie. I ate it. But
- while I ate it, I growled at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- WRITTEN IN BLOOD (As told by the dogs)
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ever did I suppose
- that I would be a bloodhound in an “Uncle Tom's Cabin” show. But I have
- been one, and my constant wish is that it has not made me too proud and
- haughty. For proud and haughty dogs, sooner or later, all have their
- downfalls. The dog that was the rightful bloodhound in that show was the
- proudest and haughtiest dog I ever met, and he had his downfall.
- </p>
- <p>
- Other proud and haughty dogs I have seen, in my time; and some of them I
- have licked, and some of them have licked me. For instance, there was the
- one that used to be a blind man's dog on a street corner in Chicago. He
- was a tough, loud-barking, red-eyed dog, full of suspiciousness and fleas;
- and his disposition was so bad that it was even said that if one of his
- fleas bit an ordinary dog, that ordinary dog would swell up where he was
- bit as if a hornet had stung him. He was proud of those fleas and proud of
- being that ornery; but he had his downfall.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another proud and haughty dog I knew belonged to the dog and pony part of
- a circus that came to our town once. He sat in a little cart in the street
- parade, with a clown's hat and jacket on, and drove a Shetland pony. You
- couldn't get him into a fight; he would just grin and say he was worth too
- much money to risk himself in a fight, especially as the money he was
- worth did not belong to him anyhow, but to the circus that owned him. He
- said it wouldn't be honest to risk other people's money just because he
- wanted to fight; but I have never believed that he really wanted to fight.
- He grinned mostly all the time, a conceited kind of grin, and he would
- up-end himself and stand on his head for you to admire him, and then flop
- over and bark and look proud of his own tricks and proud of the money he
- was worth. But he had his downfall right in the midst of his greatest
- pride, for a brindle Tom-cat with one eye went after him right in the
- middle of that street parade, and he left that cart very quickly, and it
- nearly broke up the parade.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the proudest and haughtiest of all was the bloodhound that owned that
- Uncle Tom show—leastways, he acted as if he owned it. It was a show
- that showed in a tent, like a regular circus, and it stayed in our town
- three days. It had a street parade, too; and this bloodhound was led along
- at the head of the street parade with a big heavy muzzle on, and he was
- loaded down with chains and shackles so he could hardly walk. Besides the
- fellow that led him, there were two more men that followed along behind
- him and held on to chains that were fastened to his collar. In front of
- him marched the Uncle Tom of that show; and every now and then the
- bloodhound would struggle to get at Uncle Tom and be pulled back. He was a
- very dangerous-looking dog, and you thought to yourself what a lot of
- damage he would probably do if he was ever to bite those chains to pieces
- and eat up those three men that held him and chew Uncle Tom and then run
- loose into the world. Every step he took he would toss his head and jangle
- those chains and growl.
- </p>
- <p>
- After the parade was over, a lot of us dogs and boys went down to the lot
- where the show was to be held. We were hanging around the tent where the
- actors were eating, and that bloodhound dog was there without chains like
- any other dog, and us dogs got to talking with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You country-town dogs,” he says to Mutt Mulligan, who is a friend of mine
- and some considerable dog himself, “don't want to come fussin' around too
- close to my cook tent or my show! Us troupers ain't got any too much use
- for you hick dogs, anyhow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it's <i>your</i> show, is it?” says Mutt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whose show did you think it was?” says that bloodhound dog, very haughty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “1 thought from all those chains and things, maybe the show owned you,
- instead of you owning the show,” says Mutt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw who led that street parade, didn't you?” says the bloodhound dog.
- “Well, that ought to tell you who the chief actor of this show is. This
- here show is built up around me. If anything was to happen to me, there
- couldn't be any show.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mutt, he gave me a signal with his tail to edge in a little closer, and I
- sidled up to where I could grab a front leg unexpected to him, if he made
- a pass at Mutt. And then Mutt says, sneering so his teeth stuck out and
- his nose wrinkled:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something's goin' to happen to you, if you ain't more polite and
- peaceable in your talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's goin' to happen to me?” says that bloodhound dog.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't you let them bristles rise around your neck,” says Mutt, “or you'll
- find out what's goin' to happen to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whose bristles are they?” says that bloodhound dog.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It don't make any difference whose bristles they are,” says Mutt. “No dog
- can stick his bristles up into my face like that and get away with it.
- When I see bristles stand up, I take it personal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But just then Old Uncle Zeb White, who is coloured, come amoseyin' along,
- and that Tom-show dog barked out:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Somebody hold me! Quick! Somebody muzzle me! Somebody better put my
- chains on to me again! Somebody better tell that coloured man to clear out
- of here! I've been trained to chase coloured men! What do they mean by
- letting that coloured man get near my show tent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Old Uncle Zeb, he is the quietest and most peaceable person anywhere,
- amongst dogs, boys, or humans, and the janitor of the Baptist church. He
- is the only coloured man in our town, and is naturally looked up to and
- respected with a good deal of admiration and curiosity on that account,
- and also because he is two hundred years old. He used to be the
- bodyservant of General George Washington, he says, until General
- Washington set him free. And then along comes Abraham Lincoln after a
- while and sets him free again, he says. And being set free by two
- prominent men like that, Uncle Zeb figures he is freer than anybody else,
- and I have heard him tell, time and again, how he can't speak kindly
- enough of them two white gentlemen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't anybody sick me on to that coloured man,” says this bloodhound dog.
- “If I was to be sicked on to that coloured man, this whole town couldn't
- pull me off again! I been trained to it, I tell you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Which it was easy enough to see he really didn't want to start anything;
- it was just his pride and haughtiness working in him. Just then Freckles
- Watson, who is my boy that I own, and Tom Mulligan, who is Mutt Mulligan's
- boy, both says: “Sick 'im!” Not that they understood what us dogs was
- talking about, but they saw me and Mutt sidling around that Tom-show dog,
- and it looked to them like a fight could be commenced. But the Tom-show
- dog, when he heard that “Sick 'im!” jumped and caught Uncle Zeb by a leg
- of his trousers. Then Uncle Zeb's own dog, which his name is Burning Deck
- after a piece Uncle Zeb heard recited one time, comes a-bulging and
- a-bouncing through the crowd and grabs that Tom-show dog by the neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- They rolled over and over, and into the eating tent, and under the table.
- The actors jumped up, and the table got tipped over, and the whole meal
- and the tin dishes they was eating off of and all the actors and the
- benches and the dogs was wallowing and banging and kicking and barking and
- shouting on the ground in a mess, and all of us other dogs run in to help
- Burning Deck lick that bloodhound, and all the boys followed their dogs in
- to see a square deal, and then that tent come down on top of everything,
- and believe me it was some enjoyable time. And I found quite a sizeable
- piece of meat under there in the mix-up, and I thinks to myself I better
- eat that while I can get it, so I crawled out with it. Outside is sitting
- Uncle Zeb, watching that fallen-down tent heaving and twisting and
- squirming, and I heard him say to himself:
- </p>
- <p>
- “White folks is allers gittin' up some kin' of entuh-tainment fo' us
- cullud people to look at! Us cullud people suah does git treated fine in
- dese heah Nothe'n towns!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Pretty soon everybody comes crawling out from under that tent, and they
- straightens her up, and the boss of the show begins to talk like Uncle Zeb
- has done the whole thing, and Uncle Zeb just sits on the grass and smiles
- and scratches his head. And finally the boss of the show says to Uncle Zeb
- could he hire Burning Deck for the bloodhound's part? Because Burning Deck
- has just about chewed that proud and haughty dog to pieces, and they've
- got to have a bloodhound!
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, suh,” says Uncle Zeb. “No, suh! I thank yo' kindly fo' yo' offer,
- suh, but Burnin' Deck, he ain't gwine inter no show whah he likely ter be
- sicked on ter no cullud pusson. Burnin' Deck, he allers been a good
- Republican, bringed up that-a-way, des de same as me, an' we ain't gwine
- ter take no paht in any gwines-on agin' de cullud nation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But see here,” says the boss. “In this show the coloured people get all
- the best of it. In this show the coloured people go to Heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Zeb says he had heard a good deal about that Uncle Tom show in his
- life, first and last, and because he had heard so much, he went to see it
- one time. And he says if getting chased by bloodhounds and whipped by
- whips is giving them the best of it, he hopes he never obtains admission
- to any show where they get the worst of it. The boss, he says that show is
- the show that helped make the coloured people free, and Uncle Zeb ought to
- be proud of Burning Deck acting in it. But Uncle Zeb says he ain't to be
- fooled; it was General Washington set 'em free first, and Abraham Lincoln
- set 'em free the second time, and now President Wilson is licking them
- Germans and setting them free again. And as for him, he says, he will
- stick to his own white folks that he knows and janitors for and whose
- clothes fit him, and Burning Deck will do the same. And as far as them
- Tom-show coloured folks' going to heaven is concerned, he reckons he don't
- want to be chased there by no bloodhounds; and it ain't likely that a man
- that has janitored for a Baptist church as faithful as he has would go
- anywhere else, anyhow. So he takes Burning Deck and goes along home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've got to have a dog,” says the boss, watching them get the tent fixed
- up, and rubbing his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would Spot do?” says Freckles, which is my boy, Spot being me.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I never expected to be an actor, as I said before. But they struck a
- bargain, which Freckles was to get free admission to that show, and I was
- to be painted and dyed up some and be a bloodhound. Which the boss said
- the regular bloodhound which Burning Deck had eat so much of wasn't really
- a bloodhound, anyhow, but only a big mongrel with bloodhound notions in
- his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, maybe you've seen that show. Which all the bloodhound has to do is
- to run across the stage chasing that Uncle Tom, and Freckles was to run
- across with me, so there wasn't much chance to go wrong.
- </p>
- <p>
- And nothing would have gone wrong if it hadn't been for Burning Deck.
- Uncle Zeb White must have got over his grouch against that show, for there
- he was sitting in the front row with a new red handkerchief around his
- throat and his plug hat on his knees, and Burning Deck was there with him.
- I never had anything but liking for Uncle Zeb, for he knows where to
- scratch dogs. But Burning Deck and me have never been close friends, on
- account of him being jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches you too long. He
- even is jealous when Uncle Zeb scratches a pig, which all the pigs in town
- that can get loose have a habit of coming to Uncle Zeb's cottage to be
- scratched, and they say around town that some of those pigs never find
- their way home again. Squeals have been heard coming from Uncle Zeb's
- kitchen, but the rest of the pigs never seem to learn.
- </p>
- <p>
- But no self-respecting dog would be jealous if his boss scratched a pig.
- For after all, what is a pig? It is just a pig, and that is all you can
- say for it. A pig is not a person; a pig is something to eat. But Burning
- Deck is a peculiar dog, and he gets ideas into his head. And so, right in
- the midst of the show, when I chased that coloured man across the stage,
- Burning Deck all of a sudden jumped up on to the platform and grabbed me.
- I would have licked him then and there, but what was left of the show's
- bloodhound come crawling out on to the stage dragging two of his legs, and
- Burning Deck turned from me to him, and then all the actors run on to the
- stage to save what was left of the bloodhound, and Si Emery, the city
- marshal, threw open his coat so you could see his big star and climbed on
- to the stage and arrested everybody, and somebody dropped the curtain down
- right into the midst of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the way it happened, on the outside of the curtain was left Freckles
- and me and the Little Eva of that show, which she is beautiful, with long
- yellow hair and pink cheeks and white clothes like an angel. And before
- Freckles could stop her, she took hold of him by the hand and says to the
- audience won't they please be kind to the poor travelling troupers and not
- let them be under arrest, and let the show go on? And she cried
- considerable, and all through her crying you could hear Si Emery behind
- the curtain arresting people; and after while some of the women in the
- audience got to crying, too, and the city fathers was all in the audience,
- and they went up on to the stage and told Si, for the sake of Little Eva,
- to release everyone he had arrested, and after that the show went on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, after the show was out, quite a lot of the dogs and boys that was
- friends of mine and of Freckles was waiting for us. Being in a show like
- that made us heroes. But some of them were considerably jealous of us,
- too, and there would have been some fights, but Freckles says kind of
- dignified that he does not care to fight until his show is out of town,
- but after that he will take on any and all who dare—that is, he
- says, if he doesn't decide to go with that show, which the show is crazy
- to have him do. And me and him and Stevie Stevenson, which is his
- particular chum, goes off and sets down on the schoolhouse steps, and
- Stevie tells him what a good actor he was, running across the stage with
- me after that Uncle Tom. But Freckles, he is sad and solemn, and he only
- fetches a sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's eatin' you, Freckles?” Stevie asks him. Freckles, he sighs a
- couple of times more, and then he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stevie, I'm in love.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gosh, Freckles,” says Stevie. “Honest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Honest Injun,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know who with?” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says Freckles. “If you didn't know who with, how would you know
- you was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Stevie, he says you might be and not know who with, easy enough. Once,
- he says, he was like that. He says he was feeling kind of queer for a
- couple of weeks last spring, and they dosed him and dosed him, with
- sassafras and worm-medicine and roots and herbs, and none of it did any
- good. His mother says it is growing-pains, and his father says it is
- either laziness and not wanting to hoe in the garden or else it is a
- tapeworm. And he thinks himself maybe it is because he is learning to chew
- and smoke tobacco on the sly and keeps swallowing a good deal of it right
- along. But one day he hears his older sister and another big girl talking
- when they don't know he is around, and they are in love, both of them, and
- from what he can make out, their feelings is just like his. And it come to
- him all of a sudden he must be in love himself, and it was days and days
- before he found out who it was that he was in love with.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who was it?” asks Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It turned out to be Mabel Smith,” says Stevie, “and I was scared plumb to
- death for a week or two that she would find out about it. I used to put
- toads down her back and stick burrs into her hair so she wouldn't never
- guess it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Stevie says he went through days and days of it, and for a while he was
- scared that it might last forever, and he don't ever want to be in love
- again. Suppose it should be found out on a fellow that he was in love?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stevie,” says Freckles, “this is different.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Stevie asks him how he means.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I <i>want</i> her to know,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great Scott!” says Stevie. “No!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It don't show on you, Freckles,” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles says of course it don't show. Only first love shows, he says.
- Once before he was in love, he says, and that showed on him. That was last
- spring, and he was only a kid then, and he was in love with Miss Jones,
- the school teacher, and didn't know how to hide it. But this time he can
- hide it, because this time he feels that it is different. He swallows down
- the signs of it, he says, the way you keep swallowing down the signs of it
- when you have something terrible like heart-disease or stomach-trouble,
- and nobody will ever know it about him, likely, till after he is dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when he is dead, Freckles says, they will all wonder what he died of,
- and maybe he will leave a note, wrote in his own blood, to tell. And they
- will all come in Injun file and pass through the parlour, he says, where
- his casket will be set on to four chairs, and She will come filing by and
- look at him, and she will say not to bury him yet, for there is a note
- held tight in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- And everybody will say: “A note? A note? Who can it be to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And She will say to pardon her for taking the liberty at a time like this,
- but She has saw her own name on to that note. And then, Freckles says, She
- will open it and read it out loud right there in the parlour to all of
- them, and they will all say how the departed must have liked her to draw
- up a note to her wrote in his own blood like that.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, Freckles says, She will say, yes, he must have liked her, and
- that she liked him an awful lot, too, but She never knew he liked her, and
- She wished now she had of known he liked her an awful lot, because to
- write a note in his own blood like that showed that he liked her an awful
- lot, and if he only was alive now she would show she liked him an awful
- lot and would kiss him to show it. And she would not be scared to kiss him
- in front of all those people standing around the sides of the parlour,
- dead or alive. And then she would kiss him, Freckles says. And maybe,
- Freckles says, he wouldn't be dead after all, but only just lying there
- like the boy that travelled around with the hypnotizer who was put in a
- store window and laid there all the time the hypnotizer was in town with
- everybody making bets whether they could see him breathing or not. And
- then, Freckles says, he would get up out of his casket, and his Sunday
- suit with long pants would be on, and he would take the note and say:
- “Yes, it is to you, and I wrote it with my own blood!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Which, Freckles says, he has a loose tooth he could suck blood out of any
- time, not wanting to scrape his arm on account of blood poison breaking
- out. Though he says he had thought of using some of Spot's blood, but that
- would seem disrespectful, somehow. And the tooth-blood seemed
- disrespectful, too, for he did not know the girl right well. But it would
- have to be the tooth-blood, he guessed, for there was a fellow out by the
- county line got lockjaw from blood poison breaking out on him, and died of
- it. And when She handed him the note, Freckles says, he would tell the
- people in the parlour: “Little Eva and I forgive you all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Little Eva!” says Stevie. “Gosh all fish hooks, Freckles, it ain't the
- girl in the show, is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says Freckles, kind of sad and proud. “Freckles,” says Stevie,
- after they had both set there and thought, saying nothing, for a while, “I
- got just one more question to ask you: Are you figuring you will get
- married? Is it as bad as that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Stevie, he thought for another while, and then he got up and put his hand
- on to Freckles's shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Freckles, old scout,” he says, “good-bye. I'm awful sorry for you, but I
- can't chase around with you any more. I can't be seen running with you. I
- won't tell this on you, but if it was ever to come out I wouldn't want to
- be too thick with you. You know what the Dalton Gang would do to you,
- Freck, if they ever got on to this. I won't blab, but I can't take no
- risks about chumming with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he went away and left Freckles and me sitting there. But in a minute
- he came back and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Freckles, you know that iron sling-shot crotch of mine? You always used
- to be stuck on that slingshot crotch, Freckles, and I never would trade it
- to you. Well, Freckles, you can have that darned old iron slingshot crotch
- free for nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stevie,” says Freckles, “I don't want it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gosh!” says Stevie, and he went off, shaking his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- And I was considerable worried myself. I tagged him along home, and he
- wasn't natural. He went into the house, and I tagged him along in and up
- to his room, and he took no notice of me, though I'm not supposed to be
- there at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- And what do you suppose that kid did?—he went and washed his ears.
- It was midnight, and there wasn't any one to make him do it, and there
- wasn't any one to see his ears but me, but he washed 'em careful, inside
- and out. And then he wet his hair and combed it. First he parted it on one
- side, and then he parted it x on the other, and then he blushed and parted
- it in the middle. I was sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed, and
- he was facing the looking-glass, but I saw the blush because it spread
- clear around to the back of his neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then he went to the closet and put on his long pants that belonged to
- his Sunday suit. The looking-glass wasn't big enough so he could see his
- hair and his long pants all at the same time, but he tilted the glass and
- squirmed and twisted around and saw them bit by bit. At first I thought
- maybe he was going out again, even at that time of night, but he wasn't;
- all he was doing was admiring himself. Just then his father pounded on the
- wall and asked him if he wasn't in bed yet, and he said he was going. He
- put the light out right away. But he didn't go to bed. He just sat in the
- dark with his clean ears and his long pants on and his hair parted in the
- middle, and several times before I went to sleep myself I heard him sigh
- and say: “Little Eva! Little Eva's dying! Little Eva!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He must have got so tired he forgot to undress, staying up that late and
- everything, for in the morning when his father pounded on the door he
- didn't answer. I was under the bed, and I stayed there. Pretty soon his
- father pounded again, and then he came into the room. And there Freckles
- was lying on the bed with his Sunday pants on and his hair parted in the
- middle and his ears clean.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold!” says his father, and shook him, “what does this mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold is Freckles's other name, but if any one of his size calls him
- Harold, there will be a fight. He sat up on the bed and says, still
- sleepy:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does what mean, Pa?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your lying there asleep with your clothes on,” says his father..
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was dressing, and I went to sleep again,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says his father. “It looks like it, don't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had crawled out to the foot of the bed where I could see them, and he
- was still sleepy, but he was trying hard to think up something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It looks a lot like it,” says his father. “If you had slept in that bed,
- the covers would have been turned down, wouldn't they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, looking at them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what then?” says his father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Pa,” says Freckles, “I guess I must have made that bed up again in
- my sleep, and I never knew it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” says his father. “Do you do that often?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “a good deal lately.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold,” says his father, real interested, “aren't you feeling well these
- days?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Pa,” says Freckles, “I ain't felt so very well for quite a while.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” says his pa. “How does it come when you dressed yourself you put
- on your Sunday pants, and this is only Tuesday?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold says he guesses he did that in his sleep, too, the same time he
- made the bed up.
- </p>
- <p>
- His pa wants to know if that has ever happened to him before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles, “once I woke up in the moonlight right out on
- one of the top limbs of the big maple tree in the front yard, with my
- Sunday suit on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” says his father. “And was your hair parted in the middle that
- time, too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he blushes till you can hardly see his freckles, and feels of
- his hair. But he is so far in, now, that he can't get out. So he says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, every time I get taken that way, so I go around in my sleep,
- Pa, I find my hair has been parted in the middle, the next morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says his pa. “Let's see your ears.” And he pinched one of them
- while he was looking at it, and Freckles says, “Ouch!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought so,” says his pa, but didn't say what he thought right away.
- Then pretty soon he says: “Those ears have been washed since that neck
- has.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you do that in your sleep, too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you always do that when you have those spells of yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, I always find my ears have been washed the next morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But never your neck?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sometimes my neck has, and sometimes it hasn't,” said Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says his father, and took notice of me. I wagged my tail, and
- hung my tongue out, and acted friendly and joyful and happy. If you want
- to stay on good terms with grown-up humans, you have to keep them jollied
- along. I wasn't supposed to be in the house at night, anyhow, but I hoped
- maybe it would be overlooked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you paint and dye that dog up that way?” asked Freckles's father. For
- of course the paint and dye they had put on me was still there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles. “Nearly always when I come to myself in the
- morning I find I have dyed Spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's queer, too,” said his father. And then Harold says he dyes other
- dogs, too, and once when he woke up in the maple tree there were three
- strange dogs he had dyed at the foot of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold,” says his father, “how often do these spells come on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he says, some weeks they come often and some weeks hardly ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” says his father. “And when they come on, do you notice it is
- harder for you to tell the truth than at any other times?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles says he doesn't know what he says in his sleep when those spells
- take him, nor even whether he talks in his sleep or not, but he guesses if
- he does talk in his sleep what he says would be talk about his dreams, but
- he can't remember what his dreams are, so he doesn't know whether what he
- says is true or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uh-huh!” says his father. “Harold, do you own a gun?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir,” says Harold. Which is true, for he only owns a third interest
- in a gun. Tom Mulligan and Stevie Stevenson own the rest of it, and they
- are keeping it hid in the rafters of Tom Mulligan's barn till they can
- save money enough to get it fixed so it will shoot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You haven't killed anybody in these spells of yours, have you, Harold?”
- asks his father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How would you know if you had?” asks his father.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles says there would be blood on him next morning, wouldn't there?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not,” says his father, “if you stood at a distance and killed them with a
- gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles knows he hasn't ever really had any of these spells he says he
- has had, but from his looks I should judge he was scared, too, by the way
- his father was acting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pa,” he says, “has any one been found dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The body hasn't been found yet,” says his father, “but from what I heard
- you say, early this morning in your sleep, I should judge one will be
- found.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thinks to myself maybe Freckles does do things in his sleep after all,
- and from the looks of his face he thinks so, too. He is looking scared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pa,” he says, “who did I kill? What did I say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You said: 'Little Eva's dying! Little Eva's dying!'” said his father. “I
- heard you say it over and over again in your sleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he gets red in the face again, and stares at his feet, and his
- pa stands and grins at him for a minute or two. And then his pa says: “Get
- into your weekday clothes and wash your face and neck to match your ears,
- and come on down to breakfast. When you get ready to tell what's on your
- mind, all right; but don't try to tell lies to your dad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he looked mighty gloomy. And when his father went out of the room he
- got his fountain pen and sucked some blood out of his loose tooth and
- tried to spit it into his fountain pen. From which I judged he was still
- of a notion to write that letter and was pretty low in his mind. But he
- couldn't spit it into the pen, right. And he cried a little, and then saw
- me watching him crying and slapped at me with a hairbrush; and then he
- petted me and I let him pet me, for a dog, if he is any sort of dog at
- all, will always stand by his boy in trouble as well as gladness, and
- overlook things. A boy hasn't got much sense, anyhow; and a boy without a
- dog to keep him steered right must have a pretty tough time in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he was low in his mind then, he was lower in his mind before the day
- was through. For after breakfast there was Stevie Stevenson and Tom
- Mulligan waiting for him outside, and in spite of his promise, Stevie has
- told everything to Tom. And Tom has a wart and offers some wart blood to
- write that letter in. But Freckles says another person's blood would not
- be fair and honourable. He has a wart of his own, if he wanted to use wart
- blood, but wart blood is not to be thought of. What would a lady think if
- she found out it was wart blood? It would be almost and insult, wart blood
- would; it would be as bad as blood from a corn or bunion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Stevie, “the truth is that you don't want to write that
- letter, anyhow. Last night you talked big about writing that letter, but
- this morning you're hunting up excuses for not writing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll write it if I want to write it, and you can't stop me,” says
- Freckles. “And I won't write it if I don't want to write it, and nobody of
- your size can make me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can too stop you,” says Stevie, “if I want to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't dast to want to stop me,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do dast,” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a licked, licked liar—and so's your Aunt Mariar,” says
- Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't got any Aunt Mariar,” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't dast to have an Aunt Mariar,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do dast,” says Stevie.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Tom put a chip on each of their shoulders, and pushed them at each
- other, and the chips fell off, and they went down behind the barn and had
- it out, and Freckles licked him. Which proves Freckles couldn't be stopped
- from writing that note if he wanted to, and he was still so mad that he
- wrote it right then and there back of the barn on a leaf torn out of a
- notebook Tom Mulligan owned, with his fountain pen, using his own nose
- bleed that Stevie had just drawed out of him; and he read out loud what he
- wrote. It was:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dear Miss Little Eva: The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is
- sweet and so are you. Yours truly. Mr. H. Watson. This is wrote in my own
- blood.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, now, then,” says Stevie, “where's the coffin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, the coffin?” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night,” says Stevie, “you was makin' a lot of brags, but this
- morning it looks like you didn't have the sand to act up to them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you think you've got size enough to make me lay down into a coffin
- with that note,” says Freckles, “you got another think cornin' to you.
- There ain't a kid my size, nor anywhere near my size, in this whole town
- can make me lay down into a coffin with that note. And if you think so,
- you just try it on!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Stevie, he doesn't want to fight any more. But Tom Mulligan says never
- mind the casket. Nobody really wants him to lay in a casket anyhow. He
- says he is willing to bet a million dollars Freckles doesn't dast to carry
- that note to the show grounds and give it to that Little Eva.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dast!” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dastn't!” says Tom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't dast to knock this chip off my shoulder,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dast!” says Tom. And Stevie give him a push, and he did it. And they
- had it. Freckles got him down and jammed his head into the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then,” he says, “do I dast to carry that note, or don't I dast to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dast to,” says Tom. “Leave me up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And that was the way it come about that Freckles had to carry the note,
- though not wanting to at all. But he did it. We all went with him over to
- the show grounds, Stevie Stevenson and Tom Mulligan and Mutt, Tom's dog,
- and me.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a lady sitting out in front of one of the tents on a chair. She
- had been washing her hair, and it was spread out to dry over her
- shoulders, and she was sewing on a pair of boy's pants. She had on a pair
- of those big horn-rimmed glasses, and we could see from her hair, which
- had gray in it, that she was quite an old lady, though small. I heard
- later that she was all of thirty-five or thirty-six years old.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rest of us hung back a little ways, and Freckles went up to her and
- took off his hat.
- </p>
- <p>
- She laid down her sewing and smiled at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my little man, what is it?” she said. “Were you looking for
- somebody?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, ma'am,” says Freckles. He stuttered a little and he was standing on
- one foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For whom?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For Little Eva,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady stared at him, and then she smiled again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what do you want with Little Eva, sonny?” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he stands on the other foot a while, and says nothing. And like
- as not he would have backed away, but Tom Mulligan yells: “You don't dast
- give it to her, Freck!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Freckles hands her the letter and gulps and says: “A letter for Miss
- Little Eva.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady takes it and reads it. And then she reads it again. And then she
- calls out: “Jim! Oh, Jim!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A man comes out of the tent, and she hands it to him. He reads it, and his
- mouth drops open, and a pipe he is smoking falls on to the grass.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jim,” says the lady, “someone is making love to your wife!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Jim, he reads the letter again, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard he
- bends double, and catches the back of the lady's chair. And she laughs of
- a sudden and puts her hand in front of her face and laughs again. And then
- Jim, he says to Freckles, who has been getting redder and redder:
- </p>
- <p>
- “And who is Mr. H. Watson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't you get it?” says the lady, taking off her glasses to wipe them,
- and pointing to Freckles. “This is the boy that owns the dog that played
- the bloodhound last night, and <i>he</i> is Mr. H. Watson!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And when she took off her glasses like that, we all saw she was the Little
- Eva of that show!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. H. Watson,” says Jim to Freckles, “did you intend matrimony, or were
- you trying to flirt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quit your kidding him, Jim,” says Little Eva, still laughing. “Can't you
- see he's hacked nearly to death?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None of your business what I intended!” yells Freckles to Jim. And he
- picks up a clod of dirt and nearly hits Jim with it, and runs. And we all
- run. But when we had run half a block, we looked back, and nobody was
- following us. Jim and Little Eva had busted out laughing again, and was
- laughing so hard they was hanging on to each other to keep from falling
- down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, Mr. H. Watson,” yells Jim. “Is it really your own blood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then began a time of disgrace for Freckles and me such as I never hope
- to live through again. For the next thing those two boys that had been his
- friends was both dancing round him laughing and calling him Mr. H. Watson;
- and by the time we got down to the part of Main Street where the stores
- are, every boy and every dog in town was dancing around Freckles and
- hearing all about it and yelling, “H. Watson! Mr. H. Watson! Is it your
- own blood? Is it your own blood, Mr. H. Watson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles and I did the best we could, fighting all that was our size and
- some bigger; but after a couple of hours it got so that most any one could
- lick us. Kids that was afraid to stand up to him the day before could lick
- him easy, by now, and dogs I had always despised even to argue with began
- to get my number. All you could hear, on every side, was: “Is it your <i>own</i>
- blood, Mr. Watson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And at noon we went home, but Freckles didn't go into the house for dinner
- at all. Instead, he went out to the barn and laid down in the hay, and I
- crawled in there with him. And he cried and cried and choked and choked. I
- felt sorry for him, and crawled up and licked his face. But he took me by
- the scruff of the neck and slung me out of the haymow. When I crawled back
- again, he kicked me in the ribs, but he had on tennis shoes and it didn't
- hurt much, and anyhow I forgave him. And I went and crawled back to where
- he was and nuzzled my head up under his armpit. And then he cried harder
- and hugged me and said I was the best dog in the world and the only friend
- he ever had.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then I licked his face again and he let me and we both felt better,
- and pretty soon he went to sleep there and slept for an hour or so, with
- his head on my ribs, and I lay there quiet so as not to wake him. Even
- when a flea got me, I let that flea bite and didn't scratch for fear of
- waking him. But after a while that flea got tired of me, and crawled over
- on to Freckles, and he waked natural. And when he waked, he was hungry,
- but he didn't want to go into the house for fear the story had spread to
- the grown-ups and he would have to answer questions. So he found a couple
- of raw turnips, and ate them, and a couple of apples, only they were
- green, and he milked the cow a little into an old tin cup and drank that.
- And in a little while he begins to have pains, and he thinks he is getting
- heart's disease and is really going to die, but he says to himself out
- loud if he dies now he won't get any credit for it, and he would have
- enjoyed it more if he had died while he still thought Little Eva was young
- and beautiful and probably going to marry him in the end.
- </p>
- <p>
- But after awhile it seems turning from heart's disease into some kind of
- stomach trouble; so he drinks some stuff out of a bottle that was left in
- the barn last spring when Bessie, the old roan mare, had the colic, and
- whether it is heart's disease or stomach trouble, that stuff cures him.
- And him and me drift along downtown again to see if maybe the kids have
- sort of begun to forget about it a little.
- </p>
- <p>
- But they hadn't. It had even spread to some of the grown-ups. We went into
- Freckles's father's drug store, and Mr. Watson told Freckles to step
- around to the post office and ask for his mail. And the clerk in the post
- office when we come in, looks at Freckles very solemn and says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, here is Mr. H. Watson, after a letter! Will you have a letter written
- in blood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- So Freckles told his dad there wasn't any mail, and we sneaked along home
- again. That night at supper I was lying on the porch just outside the
- dining room and the doors were open, and I heard Freckles's dad say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold, would you like to go to the show to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Pa,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- His mother says that is funny; it is the first time she ever heard him
- refuse to go to a show of any kind. And his father asks him if anything
- special has happened that makes him want to stay away from this particular
- show. I guess when his father says that, Freckles thinks his father is
- wise, too, so he says he has changed his mind and will go to the show
- after all. He didn't want to start any argument.
- </p>
- <p>
- So him and me sneaks down to the show grounds again. It is getting dark,
- but too early for the show, and every kid we know is hanging around
- outside. And what Freckles has had to stand for in the way of kidding
- beforehand is nothing to what comes now. For they all gets around him in a
- ring and shouts: “Here is the bridegroom! Here is Mr. H. Watson come to
- get married to Little Eva! And the wedding invitations are wrote in his
- own blood! His own blood! His own blood!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the grown-ups beginning to go into the show all tell each other what
- the kids are getting at, and we hear them laughing to each other about it.
- Him and me was about the two downest-tail-and-head-hanging-est persons you
- ever saw. But we stayed. There wasn't no place else to go, except home,
- and we didn't want to go home and be asked again if there was any special
- reason for staying away from that particular show.
- </p>
- <p>
- And right in the midst of all the yelling and jostling around, a kid about
- Freckles's size comes out of the show tent and walks over to the bunch and
- says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then, what's all this yelling about Little Eva for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- All the kids shut up, and this show kid says to Freckles:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was they yelling bridegroom at <i>you?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- Freckles, he was down, but he wasn't going to let any out-of-town boy get
- away with anything, either. All our own gang had him licked and disgraced,
- and he knew it; but this was a stranger, and so he spunked up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “S'pose they was yelling bridegroom at me,” he says. “Ain't they got a
- right to yell bridegroom at me if they want to? This is a free country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won't be yelled bridegroom at if I say you won't,” says the show kid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll be yelled bridegroom at for all of you,” says Freckles. “What's it
- to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won't be yelled bridegroom at about my mother,” saws the show kid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who's being yelled bridegroom at about your mother?” says Freckles. “I'm
- being yelled at about Little Eva.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says this kid, “Little Eva is my mother, and you got to stop
- being yelled at about her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “you just stop me being yelled at if you
- think you're big enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could lick two your size,” says the show kid. “But I won't fight here.
- I won't fight in front of this crowd. If I was to fight here, your crowd
- might jump into me, too, and I would maybe have to use brass knucks, and
- if I was to use brass knucks, I would likely kill someone and be arrested
- for it. I'll fight in private like a duel, as gentlemen ought to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “if any one was to use brass knucks on me, I
- would have to use brass knucks on them, and I won't fight any one that
- uses brass knucks in private.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says the show kid, “my brass knucks is in my trunk in the
- tent, and you don't dast to follow me and fight with bare fists.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brass knucks is at home,” says Freckles, which was the first I knew he
- ever had any, “and I do dast.” So each one searched the other for brass
- knucks, and they went off together, me following. The fight was to be
- under the bridge over the crick down by the school-house on the edge of
- the woods. But when they got down there, the strip of sand by the side of
- the crick was in shadow. So they went on top of the bridge, to fight in
- the moonlight. But the moonlight was so bright they were afraid they would
- be seen by some farmer coming into town and maybe told on and arrested. So
- they sat down on the edge of the bridge with their feet hanging over and
- talked about where they had better fight to be private, as gentlemen
- should. And they got to talking of other things. And pretty soon they
- began to kind of like each other, and Freckles says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Percy,” says the show kid. “But you better not call me that. I'd fight if
- I was called that out of the family. Call me Spike. What's your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “1 don't like mine either; mine is Harold.
- But call me Freckles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Spike says he wished he had more freckles himself. But he don't get much
- chance for freckles, he says; his mother takes such awful good care of all
- the complexions in their family.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” says Freckles, “I think your mother is an awful nice lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Spike, all of a sudden, bursts out crying then and says how would Freckles
- like it if people wrote notes to <i>his</i> mother and was yelled at about
- her? And Freckles says how would <i>he</i> like it if <i>he</i> was the
- one was yelled at, and he never had any idea the lady was grown up and had
- a family, and he got to sniffling some himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spike,” he says, “you tell your mother I take it all back. You tell her I
- was in love with her till I seen her plain off the stage, and since I have
- seen her and her family plain, I don't care two cents for her. And I'll
- write her an apology for falling into love with her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Which he done it, then and there, in the moonlight, jabbing his fountain
- pen into his wart, and it read:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dear Little Eva. Since I seen your husband and son I decided not to say
- anything about matrimony, and beg your pardon for it. This is wrote in my
- blood and sets you free to fall in love with who you please. You are older
- and look different from what I expected, and so let us forget bygones.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Yours truly,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>H. Watson.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spike,” says Freckles, when they were walking back to town together,
- chewing licorice and pretending it was tobacco, “do you really have some
- brass knucks?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” says Spike. “Do you, Freckles?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” says Freckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- And they went back to the tent together and asked the gang if they wanted
- any of their game, and nobody did, and the disgrace lifted.
- </p>
- <p>
- And I felt so good about that and the end of the love-affair and
- everything, that right then and there I hunted up that Burning Deck dog
- and give him the licking of his life, which I had never been able to do
- before.
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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