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diff --git a/old/51917.txt b/old/51917.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f6f1d5d..0000000 --- a/old/51917.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6916 +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] - -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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