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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5403.txt b/5403.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5d4b7f --- /dev/null +++ b/5403.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15160 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Short Stories for English Courses +by Various (Rosa M. R. Mikels ed.) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Short Stories for English Courses + +Author: Various (Rosa M. R. Mikels ed.) + +Release Date: April, 2004 [EBook #5403] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 7, 2002] +[Date last updated: August 15, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHORT STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +SHORT STORIES +FOR +ENGLISH COURSES + + +EDITED +WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES + + +BY +ROSA M. R. MIKELS + +SHORTRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL, INDIANAPOLIS, IND. + + + + + +CONTENTS + +PREFACE +INTRODUCTION +REQUIREMENTS OF THE SHORT STORY +HOW THIS BOOK MAY BE USED +THE FIRST CHRISTMAS-TREE Henry van Dyke +A FRENCH TAR-BABY Joel Chandler Harris +SONNY'S CHRISTENIN' Ruth McEnery Stuart +CHRISTMAS NIGHT WITH SATAN John Fox, Jr. +A NEST-EGG James Whitcomb Riley +WEE WILLIE WINKIE Rudyard Kipling +THE GOLD BUG Edgar Allan Poe +THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF O. Henry +THE FRESHMAN FULL-BACK Ralph D. Paine +GALLEGHER Richard Harding Davis +THE JUMPING FROG Mark Twain +THE LADY OR THE TIGER? Frank R. Stockton +THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT Francis Bret Harte +THE REVOLT OF MOTHER Mary E. Wilkins Freeman +MARSE CHAN Thomas Nelson Page +"POSSON JONE'" George W. Cable +OUR AROMATIC UNCLE Henry Cuyler Bunner +QUALITY John Galsworthy +THE TRIUMPH OF NIGHT Edith Wharton +A MESSENGER Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews +MARKHEIM Robert Louis Stevenson. + + + + +PREFACE + +Why must we confine the reading of our children to the older +literary classics? This is the question asked by an ever- +increasing number of thoughtful teachers. They have no wish to +displace or to discredit the classics. On the contrary, they love +and revere them. But they do wish to give their pupils something +additional, something that pulses with present life, that is +characteristic of to-day. The children, too, wonder that, with the +great literary outpouring going on about them, they must always +fill their cups from the cisterns of the past. + +The short story is especially adapted to supplement our high- +school reading. It is of a piece with our varied, hurried, +efficient American life, wherein figure the business man's lunch, +the dictagraph, the telegraph, the telephone, the automobile, and +the railway "limited." It has achieved high art, yet conforms to +the modern demand that our literature--since it must be read with +despatch, if read at all--be compact and compelling. Moreover, the +short story is with us in almost overwhelming numbers, and is +probably here to stay. Indeed, our boys and girls are somewhat +appalled at the quantity of material from which they must select +their reading, and welcome any instruction that enables them to +know the good from the bad. It is certain, therefore, that, +whatever else they may throw into the educational discard when +they leave the high school, they will keep and use anything they +may have learned about this form of literature which has become so +powerful a factor in our daily life. + +This book does not attempt to select the greatest stories of the +time. What tribunal would dare make such a choice? Nor does it +attempt to trace the evolution of the short story or to point out +natural types and differences. These topics are better suited to +college classes. Its object is threefold: to supply interesting +reading belonging to the student's own time, to help him to see +that there is no divorce between classic and modern literature, +and, by offering him material structurally good and typical of the +qualities represented, to assist him in discriminating between the +artistic and the inartistic. The stories have been carefully +selected, because in the period of adolescence "nothing read fails +to leave its mark"; [Footnote: G Stanley Hall, Adolescence, vol. +II.] they have also been carefully arranged with a view to the +needs of the adolescent boy and girl. Stories of the type loved by +primitive man, and therefore easily approached and understood, +have been placed first. Those which appealed in periods of higher +development follow, roughly in the order of their increasing +difficulty. It is hoped, moreover, that this arrangement will help +the student to understand and appreciate the development of the +story. He begins with the simple tale of adventure and the simple +story of character. As he advances he sees the story develop in +plot, in character analysis, and in setting, until he ends with +the psychological study of Markheim, remarkable for its complexity +of motives and its great spiritual problem. Both the selection and +the arrangement have been made with this further purpose in view-- +"to keep the heart warm, reinforcing all its good motives, +preforming choices, universalizing sympathies." [Footnote: Ibid.] + +It is a pleasure to acknowledge, in this connection, the +suggestions and the criticism of Mr. William N. Otto, Head of the +Department of English in Shortridge High School, Indianapolis; and +the courtesies of the publishers who have permitted the use of +their material. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +I + +REQUIREMENTS OF THE SHORT STORY + + +Critics have agreed that the short story must conform to certain +conditions. First of all, the writer must strive to make one and +only one impression. His time is too limited, his space is too +confined, his risk of dividing the attention of the reader is too +great, to admit of more than this one impression. He therefore +selects some moment of action or some phase of character or some +particular scene, and focuses attention upon that. Life not +infrequently gives such brief, clear-cut impressions. At the +railway station we see two young people hurry to a train as if +fearful of being detained, and we get the impression of romantic +adventure. We pass on the street corner two men talking, and from +a chance sentence or two we form a strong impression of the +character of one or both. Sometimes we travel through a scene so +desolate and depressing or so lovely and uplifting that the effect +is never forgotten. Such glimpses of life and scene are as vivid +as the vignettes revealed by the search-light, when its arm slowly +explores a mountain-side or the shore of a lake and brings objects +for a brief moment into high light. To secure this single strong +impression, the writer must decide which of the three essentials-- +plot, character, or setting--is to have first place. + +As action appeals strongly to most people, and very adequately +reveals character, the short-story writer may decide to make plot +pre-eminent. He accordingly chooses his incidents carefully. Any +that do not really aid in developing the story must be cast aside, +no matter how interesting or attractive they may be in themselves. +This does not mean that an incident which is detached from the +train of events may not be used. But such an incident must have +proper relations provided for it. Thus the writer may wish to use +incidents that belong to two separate stories, because he knows +that by relating them he can produce a single effect. Shakespeare +does this in Macbeth. Finding in the lives of the historic Macbeth +and the historic King Duff incidents that he wished to use, he +combined them. But he saw to it that they had the right relation, +that they fitted into the chain of cause and effect. The reader +will insist, as the writer knows, that the story be logical, that +incident 1 shall be the cause of incident 2, incident 2 of +incident 3, and so on to the end. The triangle used by Freytag to +illustrate the plot of a play may make this clear. + +AC is the line of rising action along which the story climbs, +incident by incident, to the point C; C is the turning point, the +crisis, or the climax; CB is the line of falling action along +which the story descends incident by incident to its logical +resolution. Nothing may be left to luck or chance. In life the +element of chance does sometimes seem to figure, but in the story +it has no place. If the ending is not the logical outcome of +events, the reader feels cheated. He does not want the situation +to be too obvious, for he likes the thrill of suspense. But he +wants the hints and foreshadowings to be sincere, so that he may +safely draw his conclusions from them. This does not condemn, +however, the "surprise" ending, so admirably used by O. Henry. The +reader, in this case, admits that the writer has "played fair" +throughout, and that the ending which has so surprised and tickled +his fancy is as logical as that he had forecast. + +To aid in securing the element of suspense, the author often makes +use of what Carl H. Grabo, in his The Art of the Short Story, +calls the "negative" or "hostile" incident. Incidents, as he +points out, are of two kinds--positive and negative. The first +openly help to untangle the situation; the second seem to delay +the straightening out of the threads or even to make the tangle +worse. He illustrates this by the story of Cinderella. The +appearance of the fairy and her use of the magic wand are +positive, or openly helpful incidents, in rescuing Cinderella from +her lonely and neglected state. But her forgetfulness of the hour +and her loss of the glass slipper are negative or hostile +incidents. Nevertheless, we see how these are really blessings in +disguise, since they cause the prince to seek and woo her. + +The novelist may introduce many characters, because he has time +and space to care for them. Not so the short-story writer: he must +employ only one main character and a few supporting characters. +However, when the plot is the main thing, the characters need not +be remarkable in any way. Indeed, as Brander Matthews has said, +the heroine may be "a woman," the hero "a man," not any woman or +any man in particular. Thus, in The Lady or the Tiger? the author +leaves the princess without definite traits of character, because +his problem is not "what this particular woman would do, but what +A woman would do." Sometimes, after reading a story of thrilling +plot, we find that we do not readily recall the appearance or the +names of the characters; we recall only what happened to them. +This is true of the women of James Fenimore Cooper's stories. They +have no substantiality, but move like veiled figures through the +most exciting adventures. + +Setting may or may not be an important factor in the story of +incident. What is meant by setting? It is an inclusive term. Time, +place, local conditions, and sometimes descriptions of nature and +of people are parts of it. When these are well cared for, we get +an effect called "atmosphere." We know the effect the atmosphere +has upon objects. Any one who has observed distant mountains knows +that, while they remain practically unchanged, they never look the +same on two successive days. Sometimes they stand out hard and +clear, sometimes they are soft and alluring, sometimes they look +unreal and almost melt into the sky behind them. So the atmosphere +of a story may envelop people and events and produce a subtle +effect upon the reader. Sometimes the plot material is such as to +require little setting. The incidents might have happened +anywhere. We hardly notice the absence of setting in our hurry to +see what happens. This is true of many of the stories we enjoyed +when we were children. For instance, in The Three Bears the +incidents took place, of course, in the woods, but our imagination +really supplied the setting. Most stories, however, whatever their +character, use setting as carefully and as effectively as +possible. Time and place are often given with exactness. Thus Bret +Harte says: "As Mr. John Oakhurst, gambler, stepped into the main +street of Poker Flat on the morning of the twenty-third of +November, 1850, he was conscious of a change in its moral +atmosphere since the preceding night." This definite mention of +time and place gives an air of reality of the story. As to +descriptions, the writer sifts them in, for he knows that few will +bother to read whole paragraphs of description. He often uses +local color, by which we mean the employment of epithets, phrases, +and other expressions that impart a "feeling" for the place. This +use of local color must not be confused with that intended to +produce what is called an "impressionistic" effect. In the latter +case the writer subordinates everything to this effect of scene. +This use of local color is discussed elsewhere. + +Perhaps the writer wishes to make character the dominant element. +Then he subordinates plot and setting to this purpose and makes +them contribute to it. In selecting the character he wishes to +reveal he has wide choice. "Human nature is the same, wherever you +find it," we are fond of saying. So he may choose a character that +is quite common, some one he knows; and, having made much of some +one trait and ignored or subordinated others, bring him before us +at some moment of decision or in some strange, perhaps hostile, +environment. Or the author may take some character quite out of +the ordinary: the village miser, the recluse, or a person with a +peculiar mental or moral twist. But, whatever his choice, it is +not enough that the character be actually drawn from real life. +Indeed, such fidelity to what literally exists may be a hinderance +to the writer. The original character may have done strange things +and suffered strange things that cannot be accounted for. But, in +the story, inconsistencies must be removed, and the conduct of the +characters must be logical. Life seems inconsistent to all of us +at times, but it is probably less so than it seems. People puzzle +us by their apparent inconsistencies, when to themselves their +actions seem perfectly logical. But, as Mr. Grabo points out, "In +life we expect inconsistencies; in a story we depend upon their +elimination." The law of cause and effect, which we found so +indispensable in the story of plot, we find of equal importance in +the story of character. There must be no sudden and unaccountable +changes in the behavior or sentiments of the people in the story. +On the contrary, there must be reason in all they say and do. + +Another demand of the character story is that the characters be +lifelike. In the plot story, or in the impressionistic story, we +may accept the flat figures on the canvas; our interest is +elsewhere. But in the character story we must have real people +whose motives and conduct we discuss pro and con with as much +interest as if we knew them in the flesh. A character of this +convincing type is Hamlet. About him controversy has always raged. +It is impossible to think of him as other than a real man. +Whenever the writer finds that the characters in his story have +caused the reader to wax eloquent over their conduct, he may rest +easy: he has made his people lifelike. + +Setting in the character story is important, for it is in this +that the chief actor moves and has his being. His environment is +continually causing him to speak and act. The incidents selected, +even though some of them may seem trivial in themselves, must +reveal depth after depth in his soul. Whatever the means by which +the author reveals the character--whether by setting, conduct, +analysis, dialogue, or soliloquy--his task is a hard one. In +Markheim we have practically all of these used, with the result +that the character is unmistakable and convincing. + +Stories of scenes are neither so numerous nor so easy to produce +successfully as those of plot and character. But sometimes a place +so profoundly impresses a writer that its demands may not be +disregarded. Robert Louis Stevenson strongly felt the influence of +certain places. "Certain dank gardens cry aloud for murder; +certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set +apart for shipwreck. Other spots seem to abide their destiny, +suggestive and impenetrable." Perhaps all of us have seen some +place of which we have exclaimed: "It is like a story!" When, +then, scene is to furnish the dominant interest, plot and +character become relatively insignificant and shadowy. "The +pressure of the atmosphere," says Brander Matthews, holds our +attention. The Fall of the House of Usher, by Edgar Allan Poe, is +a story of this kind. It is the scene that affects us with dread +and horror; we have no peace until we see the house swallowed up +by the tarn, and have fled out of sight of the tarn itself. The +plot is extremely slight, and the Lady Madeline and her unhappy +brother hardly more than shadows. + +It must not be supposed from the foregoing explanation that the +three essentials of the short story are ever really divorced. They +are happily blended in many of our finest stories. Nevertheless, +analysis of any one of these will show that in the mind of the +writer one purpose was pre-eminent. On this point Robert Louis +Stevenson thus speaks: "There are, so far as I know, three ways +and three only of writing a story. You may take a plot and fit +characters to it, or you may take a character and choose incidents +and situations to develop it, or, lastly, you may take a certain +atmosphere and get actions and persons to express and realize it." +When to this clear conception of his limitations and privileges +the author adds an imagination that clearly visualizes events and +the "verbal magic" by which good style is secured, he produces the +short story that is a masterpiece. + + + + +HOW THIS BOOK MAY BE USED + +This book may be used in four ways. First, it may serve as an +appetizer. Even the casual reading of good literature has a +tendency to create a demand for more. Second, it may be made the +basis for discussion and comparison. By using these stories, the +works of recognized authors, as standards, the student may +determine the value of such stories as come into his home. Third, +these selections may be studied in a regular short-story course, +such as many high schools have, to illustrate the requirements and +the types of this form of narration. The chapter on "The +Requirements of the Short Story" will be found useful both in this +connection and in the comparative study of stories. Fourth, the +student will better appreciate and understand the short story if +he attempts to tell or to write one. This does not mean that we +intend to train him for the literary market. Our object is +entirely different. No form of literature brings more real joy to +the child than the story. Not only does he like to hear stories; +he likes to tell them. And where the short-story course is rightly +used, he likes to write them. He finds that the pleasure of +exercising creative power more than offsets the drudgery +inevitable in composition. A plan that has been satisfactorily +carried out in the classroom is here briefly outlined. + +The teacher reads with the class a story in which plot furnishes +the main interest. This type is chosen because it is more easily +analyzed by beginners. The class discusses this, applying the +tests of the short story given elsewhere in this book. Then a +number of short stories of different types are read and compared. +Next, each member of the class selects from some recent book or +magazine a short story he enjoys. This he outlines and reports to +the class. If this report is not satisfactory, the class insists +that either the author or the reporter be exonerated. The story is +accordingly read to the class, or is read and reported on by +another member. The class is then usually able to decide whether +the story is faulty or the first report inadequate. + +Next the class gives orally incidents that might or might not be +expanded into short stories. The students soon discover that some +of these require the lengthy treatment of a novel, that others are +good as simple incidents but nothing more, and that still others +might develop into satisfactory short stories. The class is now +asked to develop original plots. Since plots cannot be produced on +demand, but require time for the mind to act subconsciously, the +class practises, during the "period of incubation," the writing of +dialogue. For these the teacher suggests a list of topics, +although any student is free to substitute one of his own. Among +the topics that have been used are: "Johnny goes with his mother +to church for the first time," "Mrs. Hennessy is annoyed by the +chickens of Mrs. Jones," "Albert applies for a summer job." +Sometimes the teacher relates an incident, and has the class +reproduce it in dialogue. By comparing their work with dialogue by +recognized writers the youthful authors soon learn how to +punctuate and paragraph conversation, and where to place necessary +comment and explanation. They also discover that dialogue must +either reveal character or advance the story; and that it must be +in keeping with the theme and maintain the tone used at the +beginning. A commonplace dialogue must not suddenly become +romantic in tone, and dialect must not lapse into ordinary +English. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The original plots the class offers later may have been suggested +in many ways. Newspaper accounts, court reports, historical +incidents, family traditions--all may contribute. Sometimes the +student proudly declares of his plot, "I made it out of my own +head." These plots are arranged in outline form to show how +incident 1 developed incident 2, that incident 3, and so on to the +conclusion. The class points out the weak places in these plots +and offers helpful suggestions. This co-operation often produces +surprisingly good results. A solution that the troubled originator +of the plot never thought of may come almost as an inspiration +from the class. Criticism throughout is largely constructive. +After the student has developed several plots in outline, he +usually finds among them one that he wishes to use for his story. +This is worked out in some detail, submitted to the class, and +later in a revised form to the teacher. The story when complete is +corrected and sometimes rewritten. + +Most of the class prefer to write stories of plot, but some insist +upon trying stories of character or of setting. These pupils are +shown the difficulties in their way, but are allowed to try their +hand if they insist. Sometimes the results are good; more often +the writer, after an honest effort, admits that he cannot handle +his subject well and substitutes a story of plot. + +In any case the final draft is sure to leave much to be desired; +but even so, the gain has been great. The pupil writer has +constantly been measuring his work by standards of recognized +excellence in form and in creative power; as a result he has +learned to appreciate the short story from the art side. Moreover, +he has had a large freedom in his work that has relieved it of +drudgery. And, best of all, he has been doing original work with +plastic material; and to work with plastic material is always a source +of joy, whether it be the mud that the child makes into pies, the clay +that the artist moulds into forms of beauty, or the facts of life that the +creative imagination of the writer shapes into literature. + + + + + + +THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE + +A STORY OF THE FOREST + +BY HENRY VAN DYKE + +This story is placed first because it is of the type that first +delighted man. It is the story of high adventure, of a struggle +with the forces of nature, barbarous men, and heathen gods. The +hero is "a hunter of demons, a subduer of the wilderness, a +woodman of the faith." He seeks hardships and conquers them. The +setting is the illumitable forest in the remote past. The forest, +like the sea, makes an irresistible appeal to the imagination. +Either may be the scene of the marvellous and the thrilling. Quite +unlike the earliest tales, this story is enriched with description +and exposition; nevertheless, it has their simplicity and dignity. +It reminds us of certain of the great Biblical narratives, such as +the contest between Elijah and the prophets of Baal and the +victory of Daniel over the jealous presidents and princes of +Darius. In "The First Christmas Tree," as in many others of these +stories, a third person is the narrator. But the hero may tell his +own adventures. "I did this. I did that. Thus I felt at the +conclusion." Instances are Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe" and +Stevenson's "Kidnapped." But whether in the first or third person, +the story holds us by the magic of adventure. + + + + +THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE + +[Footnote: From "The First Christmas Tree," by Henry Van Dyke. +Copyright, 1897, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +I + +THE CALL OF THE WOODSMAN + + +The day before Christmas, in the year of our Lord 722. + +Broad snow-meadows glistening white along the banks of the river +Moselle; pallid hill-sides blooming with mystic roses where the +glow of the setting sun still lingered upon them; an arch of +clearest, faintest azure bending overhead; in the centre of the +aerial landscape the massive walls of the cloister of Pfalzel, +gray to the east, purple to the west; silence over all,--a gentle, +eager, conscious stillness, diffused through the air like perfume, +as if earth and sky were hushing themselves to hear the voice of +the river faintly murmuring down the valley. + +In the cloister, too, there was silence at the sunset hour. All +day long there had been a strange and joyful stir among the nuns. +A breeze of curiosity and excitement had swept along the corridors +and through every quiet cell. + +The elder sisters,--the provost, the deaconess, the stewardess, +the portress with her huge bunch of keys jingling at her girdle,-- +had been hurrying to and fro, busied with household cares. In the +huge kitchen there was a bustle of hospitable preparation. The +little bandy-legged dogs that kept the spits turning before the +fires had been trotting steadily for many an hour, until their +tongues hung out for want of breath. The big black pots swinging +from the cranes had bubbled and gurgled and shaken and sent out +puffs of appetizing steam. + +St. Martha was in her element. It was a field-day for her virtues. + +The younger sisters, the pupils of the convent, had forsaken their +Latin books and their embroidery-frames, their manuscripts and +their miniatures, and fluttered through the halls in little flocks +like merry snow-birds, all in black and white, chattering and +whispering together. This was no day for tedious task-work, no day +for grammar or arithmetic, no day for picking out illuminated +letters in red and gold on stiff parchment, or patiently chasing +intricate patterns over thick cloth with the slow needle. It was a +holiday. A famous visitor had come to the convent. + +It was Winfried of England, whose name in the Roman tongue was +Boniface, and whom men called the Apostle of Germany. A great +preacher; a wonderful scholar; he had written a Latin grammar +himself,--think of it,--and he could hardly sleep without a book +under his pillow; but, more than all, a great and daring +traveller, a venturesome pilgrim, a high-priest of romance. + +He had left his home and his fair estate in Wessex; he would not +stay in the rich monastery of Nutescelle, even though they had +chosen him as the abbot; he had refused a bishopric at the court +of King Karl. Nothing would content him but to go out into the +wild woods and preach to the heathen. + +Up and down through the forests of Hesse and Thuringia, and along +the borders of Saxony, he had wandered for years, with a handful +of companions, sleeping under the trees, crossing mountains and +marshes, now here, now there, never satisfied with ease and +comfort, always in love with hardship and danger. + +What a man he was! Fair and slight, but straight as a spear and +strong as an oaken staff. His face was still young; the smooth +skin was bronzed by wind and sun. His gray eyes, clear and kind, +flashed like fire when he spoke of his adventures, and of the evil +deeds of the false priests with whom he contended. + +What tales he had told that day! Not of miracles wrought by sacred +relics; not of courts and councils and splendid cathedrals; though +he knew much of these things, and had been at Rome and received +the Pope's blessing. But to-day he had spoken of long journeyings +by sea and land; of perils by fire and flood; of wolves and bears +and fierce snowstorms and black nights in the lonely forest; of +dark altars of heathen gods, and weird, bloody sacrifices, and +narrow escapes from murderous bands of wandering savages. + +The little novices had gathered around him, and their faces had +grown pale and their eyes bright as they listened with parted +lips, entranced in admiration, twining their arms about one +another's shoulders and holding closely together, half in fear, +half in delight. The older nuns had turned from their tasks and +paused, in passing by, to hear the pilgrim's story. Too well they +knew the truth of what he spoke. Many a one among them had seen +the smoke rising from the ruins of her father's roof. Many a one +had a brother far away in the wild country to whom her heart went +out night and day, wondering if he were still among the living. + +But now the excitements of that wonderful day were over; the hour +of the evening meal had come; the inmates of the cloister were +assembled in the refectory. + +On the dais sat the stately Abbess Addula, daughter of King +Dagobert, looking a princess indeed, in her violet tunic, with the +hood and cuffs of her long white robe trimmed with fur, and a +snowy veil resting like a crown on her snowy hair. At her right +hand was the honored guest, and at her left hand her grandson, the +young Prince Gregor, a big, manly boy, just returned from the high +school. + +The long, shadowy hall, with its dark-brown rafters and beams; the +double rows of nuns, with their pure veils and fair faces; the +ruddy glow of the slanting sunbeams striking upwards through the +tops of the windows and painting a pink glow high up on the +walls,--it was all as beautiful as a picture, and as silent. For +this was the rule of the cloister, that at the table all should +sit in stillness for a little while, and then one should read +aloud, while the rest listened. + +"It is the turn of my grandson to read to-day," said the abbess to +Winfried; "we shall see how much he has learned in the school. +Read, Gregor; the place in the book is marked." + +The tall lad rose from his seat and turned the pages of the +manuscript. It was a copy of Jerome's version of the Scriptures in +Latin, and the marked place was in the letter of St. Paul to the +Ephesians,--the passage where he describes the preparation of the +Christian as the arming of a warrior for glorious battle. The +young voice rang out clearly, rolling the sonorous words, without +slip or stumbling, to the end of the chapter. + +Winfried listened smiling. "My son," said he, as the reader +paused, "that was bravely read. Understandest thou what thou +readest?" + +"Surely, father," answered the boy; "it was taught me by the +masters at Treves; and we have read this epistle clear through, +from beginning to end, so that I almost know it by heart." then he +began again to repeat the passage, turning away from the page as +if to show his skill. + +But Winfried stopped him with a friendly lifting of the hand. + +"Not so, my son; that was not my meaning. When we pray, we speak +to God; when we read, it is God who speaks to us. I ask whether +thou hast heard what He has said to thee, in thine own words, in +the common speech. Come, give us again the message of the warrior +and his armor and his battle, in the mother-tongue, so that all +can understand it." + +The boy hesitated, blushed, stammered; then he came around to +Winfried's seat, bringing the book. "Take the book, my father," he +cried, "and read it for me. I cannot see the meaning plain, though +I love the sound of the words. Religion I know, and the doctrines +of our faith, and the life of priests and nuns in the cloister, +for which my grandmother designs me, though it likes me little. +And fighting I know, and the life of warriors and heroes, for I +have read of it in Virgil and the ancients, and heard a bit from +the soldiers at Treves; and I would fain taste more of it, for it +likes me much. But how the two lives fit together, or what need +there is of armor for a clerk in holy orders, I can never see. +Tell me the meaning, for if there is a man in all the world that +knows it, I am sure it is none other than thou." + +So Winfried took the book and closed it, clasping the boy's hand +with his own. + +"Let us first dismiss the others to their vespers," said he, "lest +they should be weary." + +A sign from the abbess; a chanted benediction; a murmuring of +sweet voices and a soft rustling of many feet over the rushes on +the floor; the gentle tide of noise flowed out through the doors +and ebbed away down the corridors; the three at the head of the +table were left alone in the darkening room. + +Then Winfried began to translate the parable of the soldier into +the realities of life. + +At every turn he knew how to flash a new light into the picture +out of his own experience. He spoke of the combat with self, and +of the wrestling with dark spirits in solitude. He spoke of the +demons that men had worshipped for centuries in the wilderness, +and whose malice they invoked against the stranger who ventured +into the gloomy forest. Gods, they called them, and told strange +tales of their dwelling among the impenetrable branches of the +oldest trees and in the caverns of the shaggy hills; of their +riding on the wind-horses and hurling spears of lightning against +their foes. Gods they were not, but foul spirits of the air, +rulers of the darkness. Was there not glory and honor in fighting +with them, in daring their anger under the shield of faith, in +putting them to flight with the sword of truth? What better +adventure could a brave man ask than to go forth against them, and +wrestle with them, and conquer them? + +"Look you, my friends," said Winfried, "how sweet and peaceful is +this convent to-night, on the eve of the nativity of the Prince of +Peace! It is a garden full of flowers in the heart of winter; a +nest among the branches of a great tree shaken by the winds; a +still haven on the edge of a tempestuous sea. And this is what +religion means for those who are chosen and called to quietude and +prayer and meditation. + +"But out yonder in the wide forest, who knows what storms are +raving to-night in the hearts of men, though all the woods are +still? who knows what haunts of wrath and cruelty and fear are +closed to-night against the advent of the Prince of Peace? And +shall I tell you what religion means to those who are called and +chosen to dare and to fight, and to conquer the world for Christ? +It means to launch out into the deep. It means to go against the +strongholds of the adversary. It means to struggle to win an +entrance for their Master everywhere. What helmet is strong enough +for this strife save the helmet of salvation? What breastplate can +guard a man against these fiery darts but the breastplate of +righteousness? What shoes can stand the wear of these journeys but +the preparation of the gospel of peace?" + +"Shoes?" he cried again, and laughed as if a sudden thought had +struck him. He thrust out his foot, covered with a heavy cowhide +boot, laced high about his leg with thongs of skin. + +"See here,--how a fighting man of the cross is shod! I have seen +the boots of the Bishop of Tours,--white kid, broidered with silk; +a day in the bogs would tear them to shreds. I have seen the +sandals that the monks use on the highroads,--yes, and worn them; +ten pair of them have I worn out and thrown away in a single +journey. Now I shoe my feet with the toughest hides, hard as iron; +no rock can cut them, no branches can tear them. Yet more than one +pair of these have I outworn, and many more shall I outwear ere my +journeys are ended. And I think, if God is gracious to me, that I +shall die wearing them. Better so than in a soft bed with silken +coverings. The boots of a warrior, a hunter, a woodsman,--these +are my preparation of the gospel of peace." + +"Come, Gregor," he said, laying his brown hand on the youth's +shoulder, "come, wear the forester's boots with me. This is the +life to which we are called. Be strong in the Lord, a hunter of +the demons, a subduer of the wilderness, a woodsman of the faith. +Come!" + +The boy's eyes sparkled. He turned to his grandmother. She shook +her head vigorously. + +"Nay, father," she said, "draw not the lad away from my side with +these wild words. I need him to help me with my labors, to cheer +my old age." + +"Do you need him more than the Master does?" asked Winfried; "and +will you take the wood that is fit for a bow to make a distaff?" + +"But I fear for the child. Thy life is too hard for him. He will +perish with hunger in the woods." + +"Once," said Winfried, smiling, "we were camped by the bank of the +river Ohru. The table was spread for the morning meal, but my +comrades cried that it was empty; the provisions were exhausted; +we must go without breakfast, and perhaps starve before we could +escape from the wilderness. While they complained, a fish-hawk +flew up from the river with flapping wings, and let fall a great +pike in the midst of the camp. There was food enough and to spare. +Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging +bread." + +"But the fierce pagans of the forest," cried the abbess,--"they +may pierce the boy with their arrows, or dash out his brains with +their axes. He is but a child, too young for the dangers of +strife." + +"A child in years," replied Winfried, "but a man in spirit. And if +the hero must fall early in the battle, he wears the brighter +crown, not a leaf withered, not a flower fallen." + +The aged princess trembled a little. She drew Gregor close to her +side, and laid her hand gently on his brown hair. + +"I am not sure that he wants to leave me yet. Besides, there is no +horse in the stable to give him, now, and he cannot go as befits +the grandson of a king." + +Gregor looked straight into her eyes. + +"Grandmother," said he, "dear grandmother, if thou wilt not give +me a horse to ride with this man of God, I will go with him +afoot." + + + + +II + +THE TRAIL THROUGH THE FOREST + + +Two years had passed, to a day, almost to an hour, since that +Christmas eve in the cloister of Pfalzel. A little company of +pilgrims, less than a score of men, were creeping slowly northward +through the wide forest that rolled over the hills of central +Germany. + +At the head of the band marched Winfried, clad in a tunic of fur, +with his long black robe girt high about his waist, so that it +might not hinder his stride. His hunter's boots were crusted with +snow. Drops of ice sparkled like jewels along the thongs that +bound his legs. There was no other ornament to his dress except +the bishop's cross hanging on his breast, and the broad silver +clasp that fastened his cloak about his neck. He carried a strong, +tall staff in his hand, fashioned at the top into the form of a +cross. + +Close beside him, keeping step like a familiar comrade, was the +young Prince Gregor. Long marches through the wilderness had +stretched his limbs and broadened his back, and made a man of him +in stature as well as in spirit. His jacket and cap were of wolf- +skin, and on his shoulder he carried an axe, with broad, shining +blade. He was a mighty woodsman now, and could make a spray of +chips fly around him as he hewed his way through the trunk of +spruce-tree. + +Behind these leaders followed a pair of teamsters, guiding a rude +sledge, loaded with food and the equipage of the camp, and drawn +by two big, shaggy horses, blowing thick clouds of steam from +their frosty nostrils. Tiny icicles hung from the hairs on their +lips. Their flanks were smoking. They sank above the fetlocks at +every step in the soft snow. + +Last of all came the rear guard, armed with bows and javelins. It +was no child's play, in those days, to cross Europe afoot. + +The weird woodland, sombre and illimitable, covered hill and vale, +tableland and mountain-peak. There were wide moors where the +wolves hunted in packs as if the devil drove them, and tangled +thickets where the lynx and the boar made their lairs. Fierce +bears lurked among the rocky passes, and had not yet learned to +fear the face of man. The gloomy recesses of the forest gave +shelter to inhabitants who were still more cruel and dangerous +than beasts of prey,--outlaws and sturdy robbers and mad were- +wolves and bands of wandering pillagers. + +The pilgrim who would pass from the mouth of the Tiber to the +mouth of the Rhine must travel with a little army of retainers, or +else trust in God and keep his arrows loose in the quiver. + +The travellers were surrounded by an ocean of trees, so vast, so +full of endless billows, that it seemed to be pressing on every +side to overwhelm them. Gnarled oaks, with branches twisted and +knotted as if in rage, rose in groves like tidal waves. Smooth +forests of beech-trees, round and gray, swept over the knolls and +slopes of land in a mighty ground-swell. But most of all, the +multitude of pines and firs, innumerable and monotonous, with +straight, stark trunks, and branches woven together in an unbroken +flood of darkest green, crowded through the valleys and over the +hills, rising on the highest ridges into ragged crests, like the +foaming edge of breakers. + +Through this sea of shadows ran a narrow stream of shining +whiteness,--an ancient Roman road, covered with snow. It was as if +some great ship had ploughed through the green ocean long ago, and +left behind it a thick, smooth wake of foam. Along this open track +the travellers held their way,--heavily, for the drifts were deep; +warily, for the hard winter had driven many packs of wolves down +from the moors. + +The steps of the pilgrims were noiseless; but the sledges creaked +over the dry snow, and the panting of the horses throbbed through +the still, cold air. The pale-blue shadows on the western side of +the road grew longer. The sun, declining through its shallow arch, +dropped behind the tree-tops. Darkness followed swiftly, as if it +had been a bird of prey waiting for this sign to swoop down upon +the world. + +"Father," said Gregor to the leader, "surely this day's march is +done. It is time to rest, and eat, and sleep. If we press onward +now, we cannot see our steps; and will not that be against the +word of the psalmist David, who bids us not to put confidence in +the legs of a man?" + +Winfried laughed. "Nay, my son Gregor," said he, "thou hast +tripped, even now, upon thy text. For David said only, 'I take no +pleasure in the legs of a man.' And so say I, for I am not minded +to spare thy legs or mine, until we come farther on our way, and +do what must be done this night. Draw the belt tighter, my son, +and hew me out this tree that is fallen across the road, for our +camp-ground is not here." + +The youth obeyed; two of the foresters sprang to help him; and +while the soft fir-wood yielded to the stroke of the axes, and the +snow flew from the bending branches, Winfried turned and spoke to +his followers in a cheerful voice, that refreshed them like wine. + +"Courage, brothers, and forward yet a little! The moon will light +us presently, and the path is plain. Well know I that the journey +is weary; and my own heart wearies also for the home in England, +where those I love are keeping feast this Christmas eve. But we +have work to do before we feast to-night. For this is the +Yuletide, and the heathen people of the forest have gathered at +the thunder-oak of Geismar to worship their god, Thor. Strange +things will be seen there, and deeds which make the soul black. +But we are sent to lighten their darkness; and we will teach our +kinsmen to keep a Christmas with us such as the woodland has never +known. Forward, then, and let us stiffen up our feeble knees!" + +A murmur of assent came from the men. Even the horses seemed to +take fresh heart. They flattened their backs to draw the heavy +loads, and blew the frost from their nostrils as they pushed +ahead. + +The night grew broader and less oppressive. A gate of brightness +was opened secretly somewhere in the sky; higher and higher +swelled the clear moon-flood, until it poured over the eastern +wall of forest into the road. A drove of wolves howled faintly in +the distance, but they were receding, and the sound soon died +away. The stars sparkled merrily through the stringent air; the +small, round moon shone like silver; little breaths of the +dreaming wind wandered whispering across the pointed fir-tops, as +the pilgrims toiled bravely onward, following their clue of light +through a labyrinth of darkness. + +After a while the road began to open out a little. There were +spaces of meadow-land, fringed with alders, behind which a +boisterous river ran, clashing through spears of ice. + +Rude houses of hewn logs appeared in the openings, each one +casting a patch of inky blackness upon the snow. Then the +travellers passed a larger group of dwellings, all silent and +unlighted; and beyond, they saw a great house, with many +outbuildings and enclosed courtyards, from which the hounds bayed +furiously, and a noise of stamping horses came from the stalls. +But there was no other sound of life. The fields around lay bare +to the moon. They saw no man, except that once, on a path that +skirted the farther edge of a meadow, three dark figures passed +by, running very swiftly. + +Then the road plunged again into a dense thicket, traversed it, +and climbing to the left, emerged suddenly upon a glade, round and +level except at the northern side, where a swelling hillock was +crowned with a huge oak-tree. It towered above the heath, a giant +with contorted arms, beckoning to the host of lesser trees. +"Here," cried Winfried, as his eyes flashed and his hand lifted +his heavy staff, "here is the thunder-oak; and here the cross of +Christ shall break the hammer of the false god Thor." + + + + +III + +THE SHADOW OF THE THUNDER-OAK + + +Withered leaves still clung to the branches of the oak: torn and +faded banners of the departed summer. The bright crimson of autumn +had long since disappeared, bleached away by the storms and the +cold. But to-night these tattered remnants of glory were red +again: ancient blood-stains against the dark-blue sky. For an +immense fire had been kindled in front of the tree. Tongues of +ruddy flame, fountains of ruby sparks, ascended through the +spreading limbs and flung a fierce illumination upward and around. +The pale, pure moonlight that bathed the surrounding forests was +quenched and eclipsed here. Not a beam of it sifted downward +through the branches of the oak. It stood like a pillar of cloud +between the still light of heaven and the crackling, flashing fire +of earth. + +But the fire itself was invisible to Winfried and his companions. +A great throng of people were gathered around it in a half-circle, +their backs to the open glade, their faces towards the oak. Seen +against that glowing background, it was but the silhouette of a +crowd, vague, black, formless, mysterious. + +The travellers paused for a moment at the edge of the thicket, and +took counsel together. + +"It is the assembly of the tribe," said one of the foresters, "the +great night of the council. I heard of it three days ago, as we +passed through one of the villages. All who swear by the old gods +have been summoned. They will sacrifice a steed to the god of war, +and drink blood, and eat horse-flesh to make them strong. It will +be at the peril of our lives if we approach them. At least we must +hide the cross, if we would escape death." + +"Hide me no cross," cried Winfried, lifting his staff, "for I have +come to show it, and to make these blind folk see its power. There +is more to be done here to-night than the slaying of a steed, and +a greater evil to be stayed than the shameful eating of meat +sacrificed to idols. I have seen it in a dream. Here the cross +must stand and be our rede." + +At his command the sledge was left in the border of the wood, with +two of the men to guard it, and the rest of the company moved +forward across the open ground. They approached unnoticed, for all +the multitude were looking intently towards the fire at the foot +of the oak. + +Then Winfried's voice rang out, "Hail, ye sons of the forest! A +stranger claims the warmth of your fire in the winter night." + +Swiftly, and as with a single motion, a thousand eyes were bent +upon the speaker. The semicircle opened silently in the middle; +Winfried entered with his followers; it closed again behind them. + +Then, as they looked round the curving ranks, they saw that the +hue of the assemblage was not black, but white,--dazzling, +radiant, solemn. White, the robes of the women clustered together +at the points of the wide crescent; white, the glittering byrnies +of the warriors standing in close ranks; white, the fur mantles of +the aged men who held the central place in the circle; white, with +the shimmer of silver ornaments and the purity of lamb's-wool, the +raiment of a little group of children who stood close by the fire; +white, with awe and fear, the faces of all who looked at them; and +over all the flickering, dancing radiance of the flames played and +glimmered like a faint, vanishing tinge of blood on snow. + +The only figure untouched by the glow was the old priest, Hunrad, +with his long, spectral robe, flowing hair and beard, and dead- +pale face, who stood with his back to the fire and advanced slowly +to meet the strangers. + +"Who are you? Whence come you, and what seek you here?" His voice +was heavy and toneless as a muffled bell. + +"Your kinsman am I, of the German brotherhood," answered Winfried, +"and from England, beyond the sea, have I come to bring you a +greeting from that land, and a message from the All-Father, whose +servant I am." + +"Welcome, then," said Hunrad, "welcome, kinsman, and be silent; +for what passes here is too high to wait, and must be done before +the moon crosses the middle heaven, unless, indeed, thou hast some +sign or token from the gods. Canst thou work miracles?" + +The question came sharply, as if a sudden gleam of hope had +flashed through the tangle of the old priest's mind. But +Winfried's voice sank lower and a cloud of disappointment passed +over his face as he replied: "Nay, miracles have I never wrought, +though I have heard of many; but the All-Father has given no power +to my hands save such as belongs to common man." + +"Stand still, then, thou common man," said Hunrad, scornfully, +"and behold what the gods have called us hither to do. This night +is the death night of the sun-god, Baldur the Beautiful, beloved +of gods and men. This night is the hour of darkness and the power +of winter, of sacrifice and mighty fear. This night the great +Thor, the god of thunder and war, to whom this oak is sacred, is +grieved for the death of Baldur, and angry with this people +because they have forsaken his worship. Long is it since an +offering has been laid upon his altar, long since the roots of his +holy tree have been fed with blood. Therefore its leaves have +withered before the time, and its boughs are heavy with death. +Therefore the Slavs and the Wends have beaten us in battle. +Therefore the harvests have failed, and the wolf-hordes have +ravaged the folds, and the strength has departed from the bow, and +the wood of the spear has broken, and the wild boar has slain the +huntsman. Therefore the plague has fallen on our dwellings, and +the dead are more than the living in all our villages. Answer me, +ye people, are not these things true?" + +A hoarse sound of approval ran through the circle. A chant, in +which the voices of the men and women blended, like the shrill +wind in the pine-trees above the rumbling thunder of a waterfall, +rose and fell in rude cadences. + + "O Thor, the Thunderer, + Mighty and merciless, + Spare us from smiting! + Heave not thy hammer, + Angry, against us; + Plague not thy people. + Take from our treasure + Richest of ransom. + Silver we send thee, + Jewels and javelins, + Goodliest garments, + All our possessions, + Priceless, we profter. + Sheep will we slaughter, + Steeds will we sacrifice; + Bright blood shall bathe thee, + O tree of Thunder, + Life-floods shall lave thee, + Strong wood of wonder. + Mighty, have mercy, + Smite us no more, + Spare us and save us, + Spare us, Thor! Thor!" + +With two great shouts the song ended, and a stillness followed so +intense that the crackling of the fire was heard distinctly. The +old priest stood silent for a moment. His shaggy brows swept down +over his eyes like ashes quenching flame. Then he lifted his face +and spoke. + +"None of these things will please the god. More costly is the +offering that shall cleanse your sin, more precious the crimson +dew that shall send new life into this holy tree of blood. Thor +claims your dearest and your noblest gift." + +Hunrad moved nearer to the handful of children who stood watching +the red mines in the fire and the swarms of spark-serpents darting +upward. They had heeded none of the priest's words, and did not +notice now that he approached them, so eager were they to see +which fiery snake would go highest among the oak branches. +Foremost among them, and most intent on the pretty game, was a boy +like a sunbeam, slender and quick, with blithe brown eyes and +laughing lips. The priest's hand was laid upon his shoulder. The +boy turned and looked up in his face. + +"Here," said the old man, with his voice vibrating as when a thick +rope is strained by a ship swinging from her moorings, "here is +the chosen one, the eldest son of the Chief, the darling of the +people. Hearken, Bernhard, wilt thou go to Valhalla, where the +heroes dwell with the gods, to bear a message to Thor?" + +The boy answered, swift and clear: + +"Yes, priest, I will go if my father bids me. Is it far away? +Shall I run quickly? Must I take my bow and arrows for the +wolves?" + +The boy's father, the Chieftain Gundhar, standing among his +bearded warriors, drew his breath deep, and leaned so heavily on +the handle of his spear that the wood cracked. And his wife, Irma, +bending forward from the ranks of women, pushed the golden hair +from her forehead with one hand. The other dragged at the silver +chain about her neck until the rough links pierced her flesh, and +the red drops fell unheeded on the snow of her breast. + +A sigh passed through the crowd, like the murmur of the forest +before the storm breaks. Yet no one spoke save Hunrad: + +"Yes, my Prince, both bow and spear shalt thou have, for the way +is long, and thou art a brave huntsman. But in darkness thou must +journey for a little space, and with eyes blindfolded. Fearest +thou?" + +"Naught fear I," said the boy, "neither darkness, nor the great +bear, nor the were-wolf. For I am Gundhar's son, and the defender +of my folk." + +Then the priest led the child in his raiment of lamb's-wool to a +broad stone in front of the fire. He gave him his little bow +tipped with silver, and his spear with shining head of steel. He +bound the child's eyes with a white cloth, and bade him kneel +beside the stone with his face to the east. Unconsciously the wide +arc of spectators drew inward toward the centre, as the ends of +the bow draw together when the cord is stretched. Winfried moved +noiselessly until he stood close behind the priest. + +The old man stooped to lift a black hammer of stone from the +ground,--the sacred hammer of the god Thor. Summoning all the +strength of his withered arms, he swung it high in the air. It +poised for an instant above the child's fair head--then turned to +fall. + +One keen cry shrilled out from where the women stood: "Me! take +me! not Bernhard!" + +The flight of the mother towards her child was swift as the +falcon's swoop. But swifter still was the hand of the deliverer. + +Winfried's heavy staff thrust mightily against the hammer's handle +as it fell. Sideways it glanced from the old man's grasp, and the +black stone, striking on the altar's edge, split in twain. A shout +of awe and joy rolled along the living circle. The branches of the +oak shivered. The flames leaped higher. As the shout died away the +people saw the lady Irma, with her arms clasped round her child, +and above them, on the altar-stone, Winfried, his face shining +like the face of an angel. + + + + +IV + +THE FELLING OF THE TREE + + +A swift mountain-flood rolling down its channel; a huge rock +tumbling from the hill-side and falling in mid-stream; the baffled +waters broken and confused, pausing in their flow, dash high +against the rock, foaming and murmuring, with divided impulse, +uncertain whether to turn to the right or the left. + +Even so Winfried's bold deed fell into the midst of the thoughts +and passions of the council. They were at a standstill. Anger and +wonder, reverence and joy and confusion surged through the crowd. +They knew not which way to move: to resent the intrusion of the +stranger as an insult to their gods, or to welcome him as the +rescuer of their darling prince. + +The old priest crouched by the altar, silent. Conflicting counsels +troubled the air. Let the sacrifice go forward; the gods must be +appeased. Nay, the boy must not die; bring the chieftain's best +horse and slay it in his stead; it will be enough; the holy tree +loves the blood of horses. Not so, there is a better counsel yet; +seize the stranger whom the gods have led hither as a victim and +make his life pay the forfeit of his daring. + +The withered leaves on the oak rustled and whispered overhead. The +fire flared and sank again. The angry voices clashed against each +other and fell like opposing waves. Then the chieftain Gundhar +struck the earth with his spear and gave his decision. + +"All have spoken, but none are agreed. There is no voice of the +council. Keep silence now, and let the stranger speak. His words +shall give us judgment, whether he is to live or to die." + +Winfried lifted himself high upon the altar, drew a roll of +parchment from his bosom, and began to read. + +"A letter from the great Bishop of Rome, who sits on a golden +throne, to the people of the forest. Hessians and Thuringians, +Franks and Saxons. In nomine Domini, sanctae et individuae +trinitatis, amen!" + +A murmur of awe ran through the crowd. "It is the sacred tongue of +the Romans: the tongue that is heard and understood by the wise +men of every land. There is magic in it. Listen!" + +Winfried went on to read the letter, translating it into the +speech of the people. + +"'We have sent unto you our Brother Boniface, and appointed him +your bishop, that he may teach you the only true faith, and +baptize you, and lead you back from the ways of error to the path +of salvation. Hearken to him in all things like a father. Bow your +hearts to his teaching. He comes not for earthly gain, but for the +gain of your souls. Depart from evil works. Worship not the false +gods, for they are devils. Offer no more bloody sacrifices, nor +eat the flesh of horses, but do as our Brother Boniface commands +you. Build a house for him that he may dwell among you, and a +church where you may offer your prayers to the only living God, +the Almighty King of Heaven.'" + +It was a splendid message: proud, strong, peaceful, loving. The +dignity of the words imposed mightily upon the hearts of the +people. They were quieted, as men who have listened to a lofty +strain of music. + +"Tell us, then," said Gundhar, "what is the word that thou +bringest to us from the Almighty. What is thy counsel for the +tribes of the woodland on this night of sacrifice?" + +"This is the word, and this is the counsel," answered Winfried. +"Not a drop of blood shall fall to-night, save that which pity has +drawn from the breast of your princess, in love for her child. Not +a life shall be blotted out in the darkness to-night; but the +great shadow of the tree which hides you from the light of heaven +shall be swept away. For this is the birth-night of the white +Christ, son of the All-Father, and Saviour of mankind. Fairer is +He than Baldur the Beautiful, greater than Odin the Wise, kinder +than Freya the Good. Since He has come to earth the bloody +sacrifices must cease. The dark Thor, on whom you vainly call, is +dead. Deep in the shades of Niffelheim he is lost forever. His +power in the world is broken. Will you serve a helpless god? See, +my brothers, you call this tree his oak. Does he dwell here? Does +he protect it?" + +A troubled voice of assent rose from the throng. The people +stirred uneasily. Women covered their eyes. Hunrad lifted his head +and muttered hoarsely, "Thor! take vengeance! Thor!" + +Winfried beckoned to Gregor. "Bring the axes, thine and one for +me. Now, young woodsman, show thy craft! The king-tree of the +forest must fall, and swiftly, or all is lost!" + +The two men took their places facing each other, one on each side +of the oak. Their cloaks were flung aside, their heads bare. +Carefully they felt the ground with their feet, seeking a firm +grip of the earth. Firmly they grasped the axe-helves and swung +the shining blades. + +"Tree-god!" cried Winfried, "art thou angry? Thus we smite thee!" + +"Tree-god!" answered Gregor, "art thou mighty? Thus we fight +thee!" + +Clang! clang! the alternate strokes beat time upon the hard, +ringing wood. The axe-heads glittered in their rhythmic flight, +like fierce eagles circling about their quarry. + +The broad flakes of wood flew from the deepening gashes in the +sides of the oak. The huge trunk quivered. There was a shuddering +in the branches. Then the great wonder of Winfried's life came to +pass. + +Out of the stillness of the winter night, a mighty rushing noise +sounded overhead. + +Was it the ancient gods on their white battle-steeds, with their +black hounds of wrath and their arrows of lightning, sweeping +through the air to destroy their foes? + +A strong, whirling wind passed over the tree-tops. It gripped the +oak by its branches and tore it from its roots. Backward it fell, +like a ruined tower, groaning and crashing as it split asunder in +four great pieces. + +Winfried let his axe drop, and bowed his head for a moment in the +presence of almighty power. + +Then he turned to the people, "Here is the timber," he cried, +"already felled and split for your new building. On this spot +shall rise a chapel to the true God and his servant St. Peter. + +"And here," said he, as his eyes fell on a young fir-tree, +standing straight and green, with its top pointing towards the +stars, amid the divided ruins of the fallen oak, "here is the +living tree, with no stain of blood upon it, that shall be the +sign of your new worship. See how it points to the sky. Let us +call it the tree of the Christ-child. Take it up and carry it to +the chieftain's hall. You shall go no more into the shadows of the +forest to keep your feasts with secret rites of shame. You shall +keep them at home, with laughter and song and rites of love. The +thunder-oak has fallen, and I think the day is coming when there +shall not be a home in all Germany where the children are not +gathered around the green fir-tree to rejoice in the birth-night +of Christ." + +So they took the little fir from its place, and carried it in +joyous procession to the edge of the glade, and laid it on the +sledge. The horses tossed their heads and drew their load bravely, +as if the new burden had made it lighter. + +When they came to the house of Gundhar, he bade them throw open +the doors of the hall and set the tree in the midst of it. They +kindled lights among the branches until it seemed to be tangled +full of fire-flies. The children encircled it, wondering, and the +sweet odor of the balsam filled the house. + +Then Winfried stood beside the chair of Gundhar, on the dais at +the end of the hall, and told the story of Bethlehem; of the babe +in the manger, of the shepherds on the hills, of the host of +angels and their midnight song. All the people listened, charmed +into stillness. + +But the boy Bernhard, on Irma's knee, folded by her soft arm, grew +restless as the story lengthened, and began to prattle softly at +his mother's ear. + +"Mother," whispered the child, "why did you cry out so loud, when +the priest was going to send me to Valhalla?" + +"Oh, hush, my child," answered the mother, and pressed him closer +to her side. + +"Mother," whispered the boy again, laying his finger on the stains +upon her breast, "see, your dress is red! What are these stains? +Did some one hurt you?" + +The mother closed his mouth with a kiss. "Dear, be still, and +listen!" + +The boy obeyed. His eyes were heavy with sleep. But he heard the +last words of Winfried as he spoke of the angelic messengers, +flying over the hills of Judea and singing as they flew. The child +wondered and dreamed and listened. Suddenly his face grew bright. +He put his lips close to Irma's cheek again. + +"Oh, mother!" he whispered very low, "do not speak. Do you hear +them? Those angels have come back again. They are singing now +behind the tree." + +And some say that it was true; but others say that it was only +Gregor and his companions at the lower end of the hall, chanting +their Christmas hymn: + + "'All glory be to God on high. + And to the earth be peace! + Good-will, henceforth, from heaven to men + Begin, and never cease.'" + + + + + + +A FRENCH TAR-BABY + +BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS + + +The fable was one of the first tributaries to the stream of story- +telling. Primitive man with a kind of fine democracy claimed +kinship with the animals about him. So Hiawatha learned the +language and the secrets of birds and beasts, + + "Talked with them whene'er he met them, + Called them Hiawatha's Brothers." + +Out of this intimacy and understanding grew the fable, wherein +animals thought, acted, and talked in the terms of human life. +This kind of story is illustrated by the "Fables" of Aesop, the +animal stories of Ernest Thompson-Seton, the "Jungle Books" of +Rudyard Kipling and the "Uncle Remus" stories of Joel Chandler +Harris. The fable is a tale rather than a true short-story. + + + + +A FRENCH TAR-BABY + +[Footnote: From "Evening Tales," by Joel Chandler Harris. +Copyright, 1893, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +In the time when there were hobgoblins and fairies, Brother Goat +and Brother Rabbit lived in the same neighborhood, not far from +each other. + +Proud of his long beard and sharp horns, Brother Goat looked on +Brother Rabbit with disdain. He would hardly speak to Brother +Rabbit when he met him, and his greatest pleasure was to make his +little neighbor the victim of his tricks and practical jokes. For +instance, he would say: + +"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Fox," and this would cause Brother +Rabbit to run away as hard as he could. Again he would say: + +"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Wolf," and poor Brother Rabbit would +shake and tremble with fear. Sometimes he would cry out: + +"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Tiger," and then Brother Rabbit would +shudder and think that his last hour had come. + +Tired of this miserable existence, Brother Rabbit tried to think +of some means by which he could change his powerful and terrible +neighbor into a friend. After a time he thought he had discovered +a way to make Brother Goat his friend, and so he invited him to +dinner. + +Brother Goat was quick to accept the invitation. The dinner was a +fine affair, and there was an abundance of good eating. A great +many different dishes were served. Brother Goat licked his mouth +and shook his long beard with satisfaction. He had never before +been present at such a feast. + +"Well, my friend," exclaimed Brother Rabbit, when the dessert was +brought in, "how do you like your dinner?" + +"I could certainly wish for nothing better," replied Brother Goat, +rubbing the tips of his horns against the back of his chair; "but +my throat is very dry and a little water would hurt neither the +dinner nor me." + +"Gracious!" said Brother Rabbit, "I have neither wine-cellar nor +water. I am not in the habit of drinking while I am eating." + +"Neither have I any water, Brother Rabbit," said Brother Goat. +"But I have an idea! If you will go with me over yonder by the big +poplar, we will dig a well." + +"No, Brother Goat," said Brother Rabbit, who hoped to revenge +himself--"no, I do not care to dig a well. At daybreak I drink the +dew from the cups of the flowers, and in the heat of the day I +milk the cows and drink the cream." + +"Well and good," said Brother Goat. "Alone I will dig the well, +and alone I will drink out of it." + +"Success to you, Brother Goat," said Brother Rabbit. + +"Thank you kindly, Brother Rabbit." + +Brother Goat then went to the foot of the big poplar and began to +dig his well. He dug with his forefeet and with his horns, and the +well got deeper and deeper. Soon the water began to bubble up and +the well was finished, and then Brother Goat made haste to quench +his thirst. He was in such a hurry that his beard got in the +water, but he drank and drank until he had his fill. + +Brother Rabbit, who had followed him at a little distance, hid +himself behind a bush and laughed heartily. He said to himself: +"What an innocent creature you are!" + +The next day, when Brother Goat, with his big beard and sharp +horns, returned to his well to get some water, he saw the tracks +of Brother Rabbit in the soft earth. This put him to thinking. He +sat down, pulled his beard, scratched his head, and tapped himself +on the forehead. + +"My friend," he exclaimed after a while, "I will catch you yet." + +Then he ran and got his tools (for Brother Goat was something of a +carpenter in those days) and made a large doll out of laurel wood. +When the doll was finished, he spread tar on it here and there, on +the right and on the left, and up and down. He smeared it all over +with the sticky stuff, until it was as black as a Guinea negro. + +This finished, Brother Goat waited quietly until evening. At +sunset he placed the tarred doll near the well, and ran and hid +himself behind the trees and bushes. The moon had just risen, and +the heavens twinkled with millions of little star-torches. + +Brother Rabbit, who was waiting in his house, believed that the +time had come for him to get some water, so he took his bucket and +went to Brother Goat's well. On the way he was very much afraid +that something would catch him. He trembled when the wind shook +the leaves of the trees. He would go a little distance and then +stop and listen; he hid here behind a stone, and there behind a +tuft of grass. + +At last he arrived at the well, and there he saw the little negro. +He stopped and looked at it with astonishment. Then he drew back a +little way, advanced again, drew back, advanced a little, and +stopped once more. + +"What can that be?" he said to himself. He listened, with his long +ears pointed forward, but the trees could not talk, and the bushes +were dumb. He winked his eyes and lowered his head: + +"Hey, friend! Who are you?" he asked. + +The tar-doll didn't move. Brother Rabbit went up a little closer, +and asked again: + +"Who are you?" + +The tar-doll said nothing. Brother Rabbit breathed more at ease. +Then he went to the brink of the well, but when he looked in the +water the tar-doll seemed to look in too. He could see her +reflection in the water. This made Brother Rabbit so mad that he +grew red in the face. + +"See here!" he exclaimed, "If you look in this well I'll give you +a rap on the nose!" + +Brother Rabbit leaned over the brink of the well, and saw the tar- +doll smiling at him in the water. He raised his right hand and hit +her--bam! His hand stuck. + +"What's this?" exclaimed Brother Rabbit. "Turn me loose, imp of +Satan! If you do not, I will rap you on the eye with my other +hand." + +Then he hit her--bim! The left hand stuck also. Then Brother +Rabbit raised his right foot, saying: + +"Mark me well, little Congo! Do you see this foot? I will kick you +in the stomach if you do not turn me loose this instant." + +No sooner said than done. Brother Rabbit let fly his right foot-- +vip! The foot stuck, and he raised the other. + +"Do you see this foot?" he exclaimed. "If I hit you with it, you +will think a thunderbolt has struck you." + +Then he kicked her with the left foot, and it also stuck like the +other, and Brother Rabbit held fast his Guinea negro. + +"Watch out, now!" he cried. "I've already butted a great many +people with my head. If I butt you in your ugly face I'll knock it +into a jelly. Turn me loose! Oho! You don't answer?" Bap! + +"Guinea girl!" exclaimed Brother Rabbit, "Are you dead? Gracious +goodness! How my head does stick!" + +When the sun rose, Brother Goat went to his well to find out +something about Brother Rabbit. The result was beyond his +expectations. + +"Hey, little rogue, big rogue!" exclaimed Brother Goat. "Hey, +Brother Rabbit! What are you doing there? I thought you drank the +dew from the cups of the flowers, or milk from the cows. Aha, +Brother Rabbit! I will punish you for stealing my water." + +"I am your friend," said Brother Rabbit; "don't kill me." + +"Thief, thief!" cried Brother Goat, and then he ran quickly into +the woods, gathered up a pile of dry limbs, and made a great fire. +He took Brother Rabbit from the tar-doll, and prepared to burn him +alive. As he was passing a thicket of brambles with Brother Rabbit +on his shoulders, Brother Goat met his daughter Beledie, who was +walking about in the fields. + +"Where are you going, Papa, muffled up with such a burden? Come +and eat the fresh grass with me, and throw wicked Brother Rabbit +in the brambles." + +Cunning Brother Rabbit raised his long ears and pretended to be +very much frightened. + +"Oh, no, Brother Goat!" he cried. "Don't throw me in the brambles. +They will tear my flesh, put out my eyes, and pierce my heart. Oh, +I pray you, rather throw me in the fire." + +"Aha, little rogue, big rogue! Aha, Brother Rabbit!" exclaimed +Brother Goat, exultingly, "You don't like the brambles? Well, +then, go and laugh in them," and he threw Brother Rabbit in +without a feeling of pity. + +Brother Rabbit fell in the brambles, leaped to his feet, and began +to laugh. + +"Ha-ha-ha! Brother Goat, what a simpleton you are!--ha-ha-ha! A +better bed I never had! In these brambles I was born!" + +Brother Goat was in despair, but he could not help himself. +Brother Rabbit was safe. + +A long beard is not always a sign of intelligence. + + + + + + +SONNY'S CHRISTENING + +BY + +RUTH McENERY STUART + +This is the story of character, in the form of dramatic monologue. +There is only one speaker, but we know by his words that another +is present and can infer his part in the conversation. This story +has the additional values of humor and local color. + + + + +SONNY'S CHRISTENIN' + +[Footnote: From "Sonny, a Christmas Guest," by Ruth McEnery +Stuart. Copyright, 1896, by The Century Co. Reprinted by special +permission.] + + +Yas, sir, wife an' me, we've turned 'Piscopals--all on account o' +Sonny. He seemed to prefer that religion, an' of co'se we wouldn't +have the family divided, so we're a-goin' to be ez good 'Piscopals +ez we can. + +I reckon it'll come a little bit awkward at first. Seem like I +never will git so thet I can sass back in church 'thout feelin' +sort o' impident--but I reckon I'll chirp up an' come to it, in +time. + +I never was much of a hand to sound the amens, even in our own +Methodist meetin's. + +Sir? How old is he? Oh, Sonny's purty nigh six--but he showed a +pref'ence for the 'Piscopal Church long fo' he could talk. + +When he wasn't no mo' 'n three year old we commenced a-takin him +round to church wherever they held meetin's,--'Piscopals, +Methodists or Presbyterians,--so's he could see an' hear for +hisself. I ca'yed him to a baptizin' over to Chinquepin Crik, +once-t, when he was three. I thought I'd let him see it done an' +maybe it might make a good impression; but no, sir! The Baptists +didn't suit him! Cried ever' time one was douced, an' I had to +fetch him away. In our Methodist meetin's he seemed to git worked +up an' pervoked, some way. An' the Presbyterians, he didn't take +no stock in them at all. Ricollect, one Sunday the preacher, he +preached a mighty powerful disco'se on the doctrine o' lost +infants not 'lected to salvation--an' Sonny? Why, he slep' right +thoo it. + +The first any way lively interest he ever seemed to take in +religious services was at the 'Piscopals, Easter Sunday. When he +seen the lilies an' the candles he thess clapped his little hands, +an' time the folks commenced answerin' back he was tickled all but +to death, an' started answerin' hisself--on'y, of co'se he'd +answer sort o' hit an' miss. + +I see then thet Sonny was a natu'al-born 'Piscopal, an' we might +ez well make up our minds to it--an' I told HER so, too. They say +some is born so. But we thought we'd let him alone an' let nature +take its co'se for a while--not pressin' him one way or another. +He never had showed no disposition to be christened, an' ever +sence the doctor tried to vaccinate him he seemed to git the +notion that christenin' an' vaccination was mo' or less the same +thing; an' sence that time, he's been mo' opposed to it than ever. + +Sir? Oh no, sir. He didn't vaccinate him; he thess tried to do it; +but Sonny, he wouldn't begin to allow it. We all tried to indoose +'im. I offered him everything on the farm ef he'd thess roll up +his little sleeve an' let the doctor look at his arm--promised him +thet he wouldn't tech a needle to it tell he said the word. But he +wouldn't. He 'lowed thet me an' his mamma could git vaccinated ef +we wanted to, but he wouldn't. + +Then we showed him our marks where we had been vaccinated when we +was little, an' told him how it had kep' us clair o' havin' the +smallpock all our lives. + +Well, sir, it didn't make no diff'ence whether we'd been did befo' +or not, he 'lowed thet he wanted to see us vaccinated ag'in. + +An' so, of co'se, thinkin' it might encour'ge him, we thess had it +did over--tryin' to coax him to consent after each one, an' makin' +pertend like we enjoyed it. + +Then, nothin' would do but the nigger, Dicey, had to be did, an' +then he 'lowed thet he wanted the cat did, an' I tried to strike a +bargain with him thet if Kitty got vaccinated he would. But he +wouldn't comp'omise. He thess let on thet Kit had to be did whe'r +or no. So I ast the doctor ef it would likely kill the cat, an' he +said he reckoned not, though it might sicken her a little. So I +told him to go ahead. Well, sir, befo' Sonny got thoo, he had had +that cat an' both dogs vaccinated--but let it tech hisself he +would not. + +I was mighty sorry not to have it did, 'cause they was a nigger +thet had the smallpock down to Cedar Branch, fifteen mile away, +an' he didn't die, neither. He got well. An' they say when they +git well they're more fatal to a neighborhood 'n when they die. + +That was fo' months ago now, but to this day ever' time the wind +blows from you'west I feel oneasy, an' try to entice Sonny to play +on the far side o' the house. + +Well, sir, in about ten days after that we was the down-in-the- +mouthest crowd on that farm, man an' beast, thet you ever see. +Ever' last one o' them vaccinations took, sir, an' took severe, +from the cat up. + +But I reckon we're all safe-t guarded now. They ain't nothin' on +the place thet can fetch it to Sonny, an' I trust, with care, he +may never be exposed. + +But I set out to tell you about Sonny's diristenin' an' us turnin' +'Piscopal. Ez I said, he never seemed to want baptism, though he +had heard us discuss all his life both it an' vaccination ez the +two ordeels to be gone thoo with some time, an' we'd speculate ez +to whether vaccination would take or not, an' all sech ez that, +an' then, ez I said, after he see what the vaccination was, why he +was even mo' prejudyced agin' baptism 'n ever, an' we 'lowed to +let it run on tell sech a time ez he'd decide what name he'd want +to take an' what denomination he'd want to bestow it on him. + +Wife, she's got some 'Piscopal relations thet she sort o' looks up +to,--though she don't own it,--but she was raised Methodist an' I +was raised a true-blue Presbyterian. But when we professed after +Sonny come we went up together at Methodist meetin'. What we was +after was righteous livin', an' we didn't keer much which +denomination helped us to it. + +An' so, feelin' friendly all roun' that-a-way, we thought we'd +leave Sonny to pick his church when he got ready, an' then they +wouldn't be nothin' to undo or do over in case he went over to the +'Piscopals, which has the name of revisin' over any other church' +performances--though sence we've turned 'Piscopals we've found out +that ain't so. + +Of co'se the preachers, they used to talk to us about it once-t in +a while,--seemed to think it ought to be did,--'ceptin', of co'se, +the Baptists. + +Well, sir, it went along so till last week. Sonny ain't but, ez I +said, thess not quite six year old, an' ther seemed to be time +enough. But last week he had been playin' out o' doors bare- +feeted, thess same ez he always does, an' he tramped on a pine +splinter some way. Of co'se, pine, it's the safe-t-est splinter a +person can run into a foot, on account of its carryin' its own +turpentine in with it to heal up things; but any splinter thet +dast to push itself up into a little pink foot is a messenger of +trouble, an' we know it. An' so, when we see this one, we tried +ever' way to coax him to let us take it out, but he wouldn't, of +co'se. He never will, an' somehow the Lord seems to give 'em +ambition to work their own way out mos' gen'ally. + +But, sir, this splinter didn't seem to have no energy in it. It +thess lodged there, an' his little foot it commenced to swell, an' +it swole an' swole tell his little toes stuck out so thet the +little pig thet went to market looked like ez ef it wasn't on +speakin' terms with the little pig thet stayed home, an' wife an' +me we watched it, an' I reckon she prayed over it consider'ble, +an' I read a extry psalm at night befo' I went to bed, all on +account o' that little foot. An' night befo' las' it was lookin' +mighty angry an' swole, an' he had limped an' "ouched!" +consider'ble all day, an' he was mighty fretful bed-time. So, +after he went to sleep, wife she come out on the po'ch where I was +settin', and she says to me, says she, her face all drawed up an' +workin', says she: "Honey," says she, "I reckon we better sen' for +him an' have it did." Thess so, she said it. "Sen' for who, wife?" +says I, "an' have what did?" "Why, sen' for him, the 'Piscopal +preacher," says she, "an' have Sonny christened. Them little toes +o' hisn is ez red ez cherry tomatoes. They burnt my lips thess now +like a coal o' fire an'--an' lockjaw is goin' roun' tur'ble. + +"Seems to me," says she, "when he started to git sleepy, he didn't +gap ez wide ez he gen'ly does--an' I'm 'feered he's a-gittin' it +now." An', sir, with that, she thess gathered up her apron an' +mopped her face in it an' give way. An' ez for me, I didn't seem +to have no mo' backbone down my spinal colume 'n a feather bolster +has, I was that weak. + +I never ast her why she didn't sen' for our own preacher. I knowed +then ez well ez ef she'd 'a' told me why she done it--all on +account o' Sonny bein' so tickled over the 'Piscopals' meetin's. + +It was mos' nine o'clock then, an' a dark night, an' rainin', but +I never said a word--they wasn't no room round the edges o' the +lump in my throat for words to come out ef they'd 'a' been one +surgin' up there to say, which they wasn't--but I thess went out +an' saddled my horse an' I rid into town. Stopped first at the +doctor's an' sent him out, though I knowed't wouldn't do no good; +Sonny wouldn't 'low him to tech it; but I sent him out anyway, to +look at it, an', ef possible, console wife a little. Then I rid on +to the rector's an' ast him to come out immejate an' baptize +Sonny. But nex' day was his turn to preach down at Sandy Crik, an' +he couldn't come that night, but he promised to come right after +services nex' mornin'--which he done--rid the whole fo'teen mile +from Sandy Crik here in the rain, too, which I think is a evidence +o' Christianity, though no sech acts is put down in my book o' +"evidences" where they ought rightfully to be. + +Well, sir, when I got home that night, I found wife a heap +cheerfuler. The doctor had give Sonny a big apple to eat an' +pernounced him free from all symptoms o' lockjaw. But when I come +the little feller had crawled 'way back under the bed an' lay +there, eatin' his apple, an' they couldn't git him out. Soon ez +the doctor had teched a poultice to his foot he had woke up an' +put a stop to it, an' then he had went off by hisself where +nothin' couldn't pester him, to enjoy his apple in peace. An' we +never got him out tell he heered us tellin' the doctor good-night. + +I tried ever' way to git him out--even took up a coal o' fire an' +poked it under at him; but he thess laughed at that an' helt his +apple agin' it an' made it sizz. Well, sir, he seemed so tickled +that I helt that coal o' fire for him tell he cooked a good big +spot on one side o' the apple, an' et it, an' then, when I took it +out, he called for another, but I didn't give it to him. I don't +see no use in over-indulgin' a child. An' when he knowed the +doctor was gone, he come out an' finished roastin' his apple by +the fire--thess what was left of it 'round the co'e. + +Well, sir, we was mightily comforted by the doctor's visit, but +nex' mornin' things looked purty gloomy ag'in. Sonny's Christenin' + +That little foot seemed a heap worse, an' he was sort o' flushed +an' feverish, an' wife she thought she heard a owl hoot, an' Rover +made a mighty funny gurgly sound in his th'oat like ez ef he had +bad news to tell us, but didn't have the courage to speak it. + +An' then, on top o' that, the nigger Dicey, she come in an' 'lowed +she had dreamed that night about eatin' spare-ribs, which +everybody knows to dream about fresh pork out o' season, which +this is July, is considered a shore sign o' death. Of co'se, wife +an' me, we don't b'lieve in no sech ez that, but ef you ever come +to see yo' little feller's toes stand out the way Sonny's done day +befo' yesterday, why, sir, you'll be ready to b'lieve anything. +It's so much better now, you can't judge of its looks day befo' +yesterday. We never had even so much ez considered it necessary +thet little children should be christened to have 'em saved, but +when things got on the ticklish edge, like they was then, why, we +felt thet the safest side is the wise side, an', of co'se, we want +Sonny to have the best of everything. So, we was mighty thankful +when we see the rector comin'. But, sir, when I went out to open +the gate for him, what on top o' this round hemisp'ere do you +reckon Sonny done? Why, sir, he thess took one look at the gate +an' then he cut an' run hard ez he could--limped acrost the yard +thess like a flash o' zig-zag lightnin'--an' 'fore anybody could +stop him, he had clumb to the tip top o' the butter-bean arbor-- +clumb it thess like a cat--an' there he set, a-swingin' his feet +under him, an' laughin', the rain thess a-streakin' his hair all +over his face. + +That bean arbor is a favoryte place for him to escape to, 'cause +it's too high to reach, an' it ain't strong enough to bear no +grown-up person's weight. + +Well, sir, the rector, he come in an' opened his valise an' 'rayed +hisself in his robes an' opened his book, an' while he was turnin' +the leaves, he faced 'round an' says he, lookin' at me Direc', +says he: + +"Let the child be brought forward for baptism," says he, thess +that-a-way. + +Well, sir, I looked at wife, an' wife, she looked at me, an' then +we both thess looked out at the butter-bean arbor. + +I knowed then thet Sonny wasn't never comin' down while the rector +was there, an' rector, he seemed sort o' fretted for a minute when +he see how things was, an' he did try to do a little settin' fo'th +of opinions. He 'lowed, speakin' in a mighty pompious manner, thet +holy things wasn't to be trifled with, an' thet he had come to +baptize the child accordin' to the rites o' the church. + +Well, that sort o' talk, it thess rubbed me the wrong way, an' I +up an' told him thet that might be so, but thet the rites o' the +church didn't count for nothin', on our farm, to the rights o' the +boy! + +I reckon it was mighty disrespec'ful o' me to face him that-a-way, +an' him adorned in all his robes, too, but I'm thess a plain up- +an'-down man an' I hadn't went for him to come an' baptize Sonny +to uphold the granjer of no church. I was ready to do that when +the time come, but right now we was workin' in Sonny's interests, +an' I intended to have it understood that way. An' it was. + +Rector, he's a mighty good, kind-hearted man, git down to the man +inside the preacher, an' when he see thess how things stood, why, +he come 'round friendly, an' he went out on the po'ch an' united +with us in tryin' to help coax Sonny down. First started by +promisin' him speritual benefits, but he soon see that wasn't no +go, and he tried worldly persuasion; but no, sir, stid o' him +comin' down, Sonny started orderin' the rest of us christened +thess the way he done about the vaccination. But, of co'se, we had +been baptized befo', an' we nachelly helt out agin' that for some +time. But d'rec'ly rector, he seemed to have a sudden idee, an' +says he, facin' 'round, church-like, to wife an' me, says he: + +"Have you both been baptized accordin' to the rites o' the +church?" + +An' me, thinkin' of co'se he meant the 'Piscopal Church, says: +"No, sir," says I, thess so. And then we see that the way was open +for us to be did over ag'in ef we wanted to. So, sir, wife an' me +we was took into the church, then an' there. We wouldn't 'a' +yielded to him, thoo an' thoo, that-a-way ag'in ef his little foot +hadn't 'a' been so swole, an' he maybe takin' his death o' cold +settin' out in the po'in'-down rain; but things bein' as they was, +we went thoo it with all due respects. + +Then he commenced callin' for Dicey, an' the dog, an' the cat, to +be did, same ez he done befo'; but, of co'se, they's some +liberties thet even a innocent child can't take with the waters o' +baptism, an' the rector he got sort o' wo'e-out and disgusted an' +'lowed thet 'less'n we could get the child ready for baptism he'd +haf to go home. + +Well, sir, I knowed we wouldn't never git 'im down, an' I had went +for the rector to baptize him, an' I intended to have it did, ef +possible. So, says I, turnin' 'round an' facin' him square, says +I: "Rector," says I, "why not baptize him where he is? I mean it. +The waters o' Heaven are descendin' upon him where he sets, an' +seems to me ef he's favo'bly situated for anything it is for +baptism." Well, parson, he thess looked at me up an' down for a +minute, like ez ef he s'picioned I was wanderin' in my mind, but +he didn't faze me. I thess kep' up my argiment. Says I: "Parson," +says I, speakin' thess ez ca'm ez I am this minute--"Parson," says +I, "his little foot is mighty swole, an' so'e, an' that splinter-- +thess s'pose he was to take the lockjaw an' die--don't you reckon +you might do it where he sets--from where you stand?" + +Wife, she was cryin' by this time, an' parson, he claired his +th'oat an' coughed, an' then he commenced walkin' up an' down, an' +dreckly he stopped, an' says he, speakin' mighty reverential an' +serious: + +"Lookin' at this case speritually, an' as a minister o' the +Gospel," says he, "it seems to me thet the question ain't so much +a question of DOIN' ez it is a question of WITHHOLDIN'. I don't +know," says he, "ez I've got a right to withhold the sacrament of +baptism from a child under these circumstances or to deny sech +comfort to his parents ez lies in my power to bestow." + +An', sir, with that he stepped out to the end o' the po'ch, opened +his book ag'in, an' holdin' up his right hand to'ards Sonny, +settin' on top o' the bean-arbor in the rain, he commenced to read +the service o' baptism an' we stood proxies--which is a sort o' a +dummy substitutes--for whatever godfather an' mother Sonny see fit +to choose in after life. + +Parson, he looked half like ez ef he'd laugh once-t. When he had +thess opened his book and started to speak, a sudden streak o' +sunshine shot out an' the rain started to ease up, an' it looked +for a minute ez ef he was goin' to lose the baptismal waters. But +d'rec'ly it come down stiddy ag'in an' he went thoo the programme +entire. + +An' Sonny, he behaved mighty purty; set up perfec'ly ca'm an' +composed thoo it all, an' took everything in good part, though he +didn't p'intedly know who was bein' baptized, 'cause, of co'se, he +couldn't hear the words with the rain in his ears. + +He didn't rightly sense the situation tell it come to the part +where it says: "Name this child," and, of co'se, I called out to +Sonny to name hisself, which it had always been our intention to +let him do. + +"Name yo'self, right quick, like a good boy," says I. + +Of co'se Sonny had all his life heered me say thet I was +Deuteronomy Jones, Senior, an' thet--I hoped some day when he got +christened he'd be the junior. He knowed that by heart, an' would +agree to it or dispute it, 'cordin' to how the notion took him, +and I sort o' ca'culated thet he'd out with it now. But no, sir! +Not a word! He thess sot up on thet bean-arbor an' grinned. + +An' so, feelin' put to it, with the services suspended over my +head, I spoke up, an' I says: "Parson," says I. "I reckon ef he +was to speak his little heart, he'd say Deuteronomy Jones, +Junior." An' with thet what does Sonny do but conterdic' me flat! +"No, not Junior! I want to be named Deuteronomy Jones, Senior!" +says he, thess so. An' parson, he looked to'ards me, an' I bowed +my head an' he pronounced thess one single name, "Deuteronomy," +an' I see he wasn't goin' to say no more an' so I spoke up quick, +an' says I: "Parson," says I, "he has spoke his heart's desire. He +has named hisself after me entire--Deuteronomy Jones, Senior." + +An' so he was obligated to say it, an' so it is writ in the family +record colume in the big Bible, though I spelt his Senior with a +little s, an' writ him down ez the only son of the Senior with the +big S, which it seems to me fixes it about right for the time +bein'. + +Well, when the rector had got thoo an' he had wropped up his robes +an' put 'em in his wallet, an' had told us to prepare for +conformation, he pernounced a blessin' upon us an' went. + +Then Sonny seein' it was all over, why, HE COME DOWN. He was wet +ez a drownded rat, but wife rubbed him off an' give him some hot +tea an' he come a-snuggin' up in my lap, thess ez sweet a child ez +you ever see in yo' life, an' I talked to him ez fatherly ez I +could, told him we was all 'Piscopals now, an' soon ez his little +foot got well I was goin' to take him out to Sunday-school to tote +a banner--all his little 'Piscopal friends totes banners--an' thet +he could pick out some purty candles for the altar, an' he 'lowed +immejate thet he'd buy pink ones. Sonny always was death on pink-- +showed it from the time he could snatch a pink rose--an' wife she +ain't never dressed him in nothin' else. Ever' pair o' little +breeches he's got is either pink or pink-trimmed. + +Well, I talked along to him till I worked 'round to shamin' him a +little for havin' to be christened settin' up on top a bean-arbor, +same ez a crow-bird, which I told him the parson he wouldn't 'a' +done ef he'd 'a' felt free to've left it undone. 'Twasn't to +indulge him he done it, but to bless him an' to comfort our +hearts. Well, after I had reasoned with him severe that-a-way a +while, he says, says he, thess ez sweet an' mild, says he, "Daddy, +nex' time y'all gits christened, I'll come down an' be christened +right--like a good boy." + +Th' ain't a sweeter child in'ardly 'n what Sonny is, nowheres, git +him to feel right comf'table, and I know it, an' that's why I have +patience with his little out'ard ways. + +"Yes, sir," says he; "nex' time I'll be christened like a good +boy." + +Then, of co'se, I explained to him thet it couldn't never be did +no mo', 'cause it had been did, an' did 'Piscopal, which is +secure. An' then what you reckon the little feller said? + +Says he, "Yes, daddy, but S'POS'IN' MINE DON'T TAKE. How 'bout +that?" + +An' I didn't try to explain no further. What was the use? Wife, she +had drawed a stool close-t up to my knee, an' set there sortin' out +the little yaller rings ez they'd dry out on his head, an' when he +said that I thess looked at her an' we both looked at him, an' says +I, "Wife," says I, "ef they's anything in heavenly looks an' behavior, +I b'lieve that christenin' is started to take on him a'ready." + +An' I b'lieve it had. + + + + + + +CHRISTMAS NIGHT WITH SATAN + +BY JOHN FOX, JR. + +"All that is literature seeks to communicate power." [Footnote: De +Quincey, "Letters to a Young Man."] Here the power communicated is +that of sympathizing with God's "lesser children." The +humanitarian story is a long step in advance of the fable. It +recognizes the true relations of the animal world to man, and +insists that it be dealt with righteously and sympathetically. + + + + +CHRISTMAS NIGHT WITH SATAN + +[Footnote: From "Christmas Eve on Lonesome," by John Fox, Jr. +Copyright, 1904, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +No night was this in Hades with solemn-eyed Dante, for Satan was +only a woolly little black dog, and surely no dog was ever more +absurdly misnamed. When Uncle Carey first heard that name, he +asked gravely: + +"Why, Dinnie, where in h---," Uncle Carey gulped slightly, "did +you get him?" And Dinnie laughed merrily, for she saw the fun of +the question, and shook her black curls. "He didn't come f'um THAT +PLACE." + +Distinctly Satan had not come from that place. On the contrary, he +might by a miracle have dropped straight from some Happy Hunting- +Ground, for all the signs he gave of having touched pitch in this +or another sphere. Nothing human was ever born that was gentler, +merrier, more trusting or more lovable than Satan. That was why +Uncle Carey said again gravely that he could hardly tell Satan and +his little mistress apart. He rarely saw them apart, and as both +had black tangled hair and bright black eyes; as one awoke every +morning with a happy smile and the other with a jolly bark; as +they played all day like wind-shaken shadows and each won every +heart at first sight--the likeness was really rather curious. I +have always believed that Satan made the spirit of Dinnie's house, +orthodox and severe though it was, almost kindly toward his great +namesake. I know I have never been able, since I knew little +Satan, to think old Satan as bad as I once painted him, though I +am sure the little dog had many pretty tricks that the "old boy" +doubtless has never used in order to amuse his friends. + +"Shut the door, Saty, please," Dinnie would say, precisely as she +would say it to Uncle Billy, the butler, and straightway Satan +would launch himself at it--bang! He never would learn to close it +softly, for Satan liked that--bang! + +If you kept tossing a coin or marble in the air, Satan would keep +catching it and putting it back in your hand for another throw, +till you got tired. Then he would drop it on a piece of rag +carpet, snatch the carpet with his teeth, throw the coin across +the room, and rush for it like mad, until he got tired. If you put +a penny on his nose, he would wait until you counted, one--two-- +THREE! Then he would toss it up himself and catch it. Thus, +perhaps, Satan grew to love Mammon right well, but for another and +better reason than that he liked simply to throw it around--as +shall now be made plain. + +A rubber ball with a hole in it was his favorite plaything, and he +would take it in his mouth and rush around the house like a child, +squeezing it to make it whistle. When he got a new ball, he would +hide his old one away until the new one was the worse worn of the +two, and then he would bring out the old one again. If Dinnie gave +him a nickel or a dime, when they went down-town, Satan would rush +into a store, rear up on the counter where the rubber balls were +kept, drop the coin, and get a ball for himself. Thus, Satan +learned finance. He began to hoard his pennies, and one day Uncle +Carey found a pile of seventeen under a corner of the carpet. +Usually he carried to Dinnie all coins that he found in the +street, but he showed one day that he was going into the ball- +business for himself. + +Uncle Carey had given Dinnie a nickel for some candy, and, as +usual, Satan trotted down the street behind her. As usual, Satan +stopped before the knick-knack shop. + +"Tum on, Saty," said Dinnie. Satan reared against the door as he +always did, and Dinnie said again: + +"Tum on, Saty." As usual, Satan dropped to his haunches, but what +was unusual, he failed to bark. Now Dinnie had got a new ball for +Satan only that morning, so Dinnie stamped her foot. + +"I tell you to tum on, Saty." Satan never moved. He looked at +Dinnie as much as to say: + +"I have never disobeyed you before, little mistress, but this time +I have an excellent reason for what must seem to you very bad +manners--" and being a gentleman withal, Satan rose on his +haunches and begged. + +"You're des a pig, Saty," said Dinnie, but with a sigh for the +candy that was not to be, Dinnie opened the door, and Satan, to +her wonder, rushed to the counter, put his forepaws on it, and +dropped from his mouth a dime. Satan had found that coin on the +street. He didn't bark for change, nor beg for two balls, but he +had got it in his woolly little head, somehow, that in that store +a coin meant a ball, though never before nor afterward did he try +to get a ball for a penny. + +Satan slept in Uncle Carey's room, for of all people, after +Dinnie, Satan loved Uncle Carey best. Every day at noon he would +go to an upstairs window and watch the cars come around the +corner, until a very tall, square-shouldered young man swung to +the ground, and down Satan would scamper--yelping--to meet him at +the gate. If Uncle Carey, after supper and when Dinnie was in bed, +started out of the house, still in his business clothes, Satan +would leap out before him, knowing that he too might be allowed to +go; but if Uncle Carey had put on black clothes that showed a big, +dazzling shirt-front, and picked up his high hat, Satan would sit +perfectly still and look disconsolate; for as there were no +parties or theatres for Dinnie, so there were none for him. But no +matter how late it was when Uncle Carey came home, he always saw +Satan's little black nose against the window-pane and heard his +bark of welcome. + +After intelligence, Satan's chief trait was lovableness--nobody +ever knew him to fight, to snap at anything or to get angry; after +lovableness, it was politeness. If he wanted something to eat, if +he wanted Dinnie to go to bed, if he wanted to get out of the +door, he would beg--beg prettily on his haunches, his little red +tongue out and his funny little paws hanging loosely. Indeed, it +was just because Satan was so little less than human, I suppose, +that old Satan began to be afraid he might have a soul. So the +wicked old namesake with the Hoofs and Horns laid a trap for +little Satan, and, as he is apt to do, he began laying it early-- +long, indeed, before Christmas. + +When Dinnie started to kindergarten that autumn, Satan found that +there was one place where he could never go. Like the lamb, he +could not go to school; so while Dinnie was away, Satan began to +make friends. He would bark, "Howdy-do?" to every dog that passed +his gate. Many stopped to rub noses with him through the fence-- +even Hugo the mastiff, and nearly all, indeed, except one strange- +looking dog that appeared every morning at precisely nine o'clock +and took his stand on the corner. There he would lie patiently +until a funeral came along, and then Satan would see him take his +place at the head of the procession; and thus he would march out +to the cemetery and back again. Nobody knew where he came from nor +where he went, and Uncle Carey called him the "funeral dog" and +said he was doubtless looking for his dead master. Satan even made +friends with a scrawny little yellow dog that followed an old +drunkard around--a dog that, when his master fell in the gutter, +would go and catch a policeman by the coat-tail, lead the officer +to his helpless master, and spend the night with him in jail. + +By and by Satan began to slip out of the house at night, and Uncle +Billy said he reckoned Satan had "jined de club"; and late one +night, when he had not come in, Uncle Billy told Uncle Carey that +it was "powerful slippery and he reckoned they'd better send de +kerridge after him"--an innocent remark that made Uncle Carey send +a boot after the old butler, who fled chuckling down the stairs, +and left Uncle Carey chuckling in his room. + +Satan had "jined de club"--the big club--and no dog was too lowly +in Satan's eyes for admission; for no priest ever preached the +brotherhood of man better than Satan lived it--both with man and +dog. And thus he lived it that Christmas night--to his sorrow. + +Christmas Eve had been gloomy--the gloomiest of Satan's life. +Uncle Carey had gone to a neighboring town at noon. Satan had +followed him down to the station, and when the train started, +Uncle Carey had ordered him to go home. Satan took his time about +going home, not knowing it was Christmas Eve. He found strange +things happening to dogs that day. The truth was, that policemen +were shooting all dogs found that were without a collar and a +license, and every now and then a bang and a howl somewhere would +stop Satan in his tracks. At a little yellow house on the edge of +town he saw half a dozen strange dogs in a kennel, and every now +and then a negro would lead a new one up to the house and deliver +him to a big man at the door, who, in return, would drop something +into the negro's hand. While Satan waited, the old drunkard came +along with his little dog at his heels, paused before the door, +looked a moment at his faithful follower, and went slowly on. +Satan little knew the old drunkard's temptation, for in that +yellow house kind-hearted people had offered fifteen cents for +each dog brought to them, without a license, that they might +mercifully put it to death, and fifteen cents was the precise +price for a drink of good whiskey. Just then there was another +bang and another howl somewhere, and Satan trotted home to meet a +calamity. Dinnie was gone. Her mother had taken her out in the +country to Grandmother Dean's to spend Christmas, as was the +family custom, and Mrs. Dean would not wait any longer for Satan; +so she told Uncle Billy to bring him out after supper. + +"Ain't you 'shamed o' yo'self--suh--?" said the old butler, +"keeping me from ketchin' Christmas gifts dis day?" + +Uncle Billy was indignant, for the negroes begin at four o'clock +in the afternoon of Christmas Eve to slip around corners and jump +from hiding-places to shout "Christmas Gif'--Christmas Gif'"; and +the one who shouts first gets a gift. No wonder it was gloomy for +Satan--Uncle Carey, Dinnie, and all gone, and not a soul but Uncle +Billy in the big house. Every few minutes he would trot on his +little black legs upstairs and downstairs, looking for his +mistress. As dusk came on, he would every now and then howl +plaintively. After begging his supper, and while Uncle Billy was +hitching up a horse in the stable, Satan went out in the yard and +lay with his nose between the close panels of the fence--quite +heart-broken. When he saw his old friend, Hugo the mastiff, +trotting into the gaslight, he began to bark his delight +frantically. The big mastiff stopped and nosed his sympathy +through the fence for a moment and walked slowly on, Satan +frisking and barking along inside. At the gate Hugo stopped, and +raising one huge paw, playfully struck it. The gate flew open, and +with a happy yelp Satan leaped into the street. The noble mastiff +hesitated as though this were not quite regular. He did not belong +to the club, and he didn't know that Satan had ever been away from +home after dark in his life. For a moment he seemed to wait for +Dinnie to call him back as she always did, but this time there was +no sound, and Hugo walked majestically on, with absurd little +Satan running in a circle about him. On the way they met the +"funeral dog," who glanced inquiringly at Satan, shied from the +mastiff, and trotted on. On the next block the old drunkard's +yellow cur ran across the street, and after interchanging the +compliments of the season, ran back after his staggering master. +As they approached the railroad track a strange dog joined them, +to whom Hugo paid no attention. At the crossing another new +acquaintance bounded toward them. This one--a half-breed shepherd +--was quite friendly, and he received Satan's advances with affable +condescension. Then another came and another, and little Satan's +head got quite confused. They were a queer-looking lot of curs and +half-breeds from the negro settlement at the edge of the woods, +and though Satan had little experience, his instincts told him +that all was not as it should be, and had he been human he would +have wondered very much how they had escaped the carnage that day. +Uneasy, he looked around for Hugo; but Hugo had disappeared. Once +or twice Hugo had looked around for Satan, and Satan paying no +attention, the mastiff trotted on home in disgust. Just then a +powerful yellow cur sprang out of the darkness over the railroad +track, and Satan sprang to meet him, and so nearly had the life +scared out of him by the snarl and flashing fangs of the new-comer +that he hardly had the strength to shrink back behind his new +friend, the half-breed shepherd. + +A strange thing then happened. The other dogs became suddenly +quiet, and every eye was on the yellow cur. He sniffed the air +once or twice, gave two or three peculiar low growls, and all +those dogs except Satan lost the civilization of centuries and +went back suddenly to the time when they were wolves and were +looking for a leader. The cur was Lobo for that little pack, and +after a short parley, he lifted his nose high and started away +without looking back, while the other dogs silently trotted after +him. With a mystified yelp, Satan ran after them. The cur did not +take the turnpike, but jumped the fence into a field, making his +way by the rear of houses, from which now and then another dog +would slink out and silently join the band. Every one of them +Satan nosed most friendlily, and to his great joy the funeral dog, +on the edge of town, leaped into their midst. Ten minutes later +the cur stopped in the midst of some woods, as though he would +inspect his followers. Plainly, he disapproved of Satan, and Satan +kept out of his way. Then he sprang into the turnpike and the band +trotted down it, under flying black clouds and shifting bands of +brilliant moonlight. Once, a buggy swept past them. A familiar +odor struck Satan's nose, and he stopped for a moment to smell the +horse's tracks; and right he was, too, for out at her +grandmother's Dinnie refused to be comforted, and in that buggy +was Uncle Billy going back to town after him. + +Snow was falling. It was a great lark for Satan. Once or twice, as +he trotted along, he had to bark his joy aloud, and each time the +big cur gave him such a fierce growl that he feared thereafter to +open his jaws. But he was happy for all that, to be running out +into the night with such a lot of funny friends and not to know or +care where he was going. He got pretty tired presently, for over +hill and down hill they went, at that unceasing trot, trot, trot! +Satan's tongue began to hang out. Once he stopped to rest, but the +loneliness frightened him and he ran on after them with his heart +almost bursting. He was about to lie right down and die, when the +cur stopped, sniffed the air once or twice, and with those same +low growls, led the marauders through a rail fence into the woods, +and lay quietly down. How Satan loved that soft, thick grass, all +snowy that it was! It was almost as good as his own bed at home. +And there they lay--how long, Satan never knew, for he went to +sleep and dreamed that he was after a rat in the barn at home; and +he yelped in his sleep, which made the cur lift his big yellow +head and show his fangs. The moving of the half-breed shepherd and +the funeral dog waked him at last, and Satan got up. Half +crouching, the cur was leading the way toward the dark, still +woods on top of the hill, over which the Star of Bethlehem was +lowly sinking, and under which lay a flock of the gentle creatures +that seemed to have been almost sacred to the Lord of that Star. +They were in sore need of a watchful shepherd now. Satan was stiff +and chilled, but he was rested and had had his sleep, and he was +just as ready for fun as he always was. He didn't understand that +sneaking. Why they didn't all jump and race and bark as he wanted +to, he couldn't see; but he was too polite to do otherwise than as +they did, and so he sneaked after them; and one would have thought +he knew, as well as the rest, the hellish mission on which they +were bent. + +Out of the woods they went, across a little branch, and there the +big cur lay flat again in the grass. A faint bleat came from the +hill-side beyond, where Satan could see another woods--and then +another bleat, and another. And the cur began to creep again, like +a snake in the grass; and the others crept too, and little Satan +crept, though it was all a sad mystery to him. Again the cur lay +still, but only long enough for Satan to see curious, fat, white +shapes above him--and then, with a blood-curdling growl, the big +brute dashed forward. Oh, there was fun in them after all! Satan +barked joyfully. Those were some new playmates--those fat, white, +hairy things up there; and Satan was amazed when, with frightened +snorts, they fled in every direction. But this was a new game, +perhaps, of which he knew nothing, and as did the rest, so did +Satan. He picked out one of the white things and fled barking +after it. It was a little fellow that he was after, but little as +he was, Satan might never have caught up, had not the sheep got +tangled in some brush. Satan danced about him in mad glee, giving +him a playful nip at his wool and springing back to give him +another nip, and then away again. Plainly, he was not going to +bite back, and when the sheep struggled itself tired and sank down +in a heap, Satan came close and licked him, and as he was very +warm and woolly, he lay down and snuggled up against him for a +while, listening to the turmoil that was going on around him. And +as he listened, he got frightened. + +If this was a new game it was certainly a very peculiar one--the +wild rush, the bleats of terror, gasps of agony, and the fiendish +growls of attack and the sounds of ravenous gluttony. With every +hair bristling, Satan rose and sprang from the woods--and stopped +with a fierce tingling of the nerves that brought him horror and +fascination. One of the white shapes lay still before him. There +was a great steaming red splotch on the snow, and a strange odor +in the air that made him dizzy; but only for a moment. Another +white shape rushed by. A tawny streak followed, and then, in a +patch of moonlight, Satan saw the yellow cur with his teeth +fastened in the throat of his moaning playmate. Like lightning +Satan sprang at the cur, who tossed him ten feet away and went +back to his awful work. Again Satan leaped, but just then a shout +rose behind him, and the cur leaped too as though a bolt of +lightning had crashed over him, and, no longer noticing Satan or +sheep, began to quiver with fright and slink away. Another shout +rose from another direction--another from another. + +"Drive 'em into the barn-yard!" was the cry. + +Now and then there was a fearful bang and a howl of death-agony, +as some dog tried to break through the encircling men, who yelled +and cursed as they closed in on the trembling brutes that slunk +together and crept on; for it is said, every sheep-killing dog +knows his fate if caught, and will make little effort to escape. +With them went Satan, through the barn-yard gate, where they +huddled in a corner--a shamed and terrified group. A tall overseer +stood at the gate. + +"Ten of 'em!" he said grimly. + +He had been on the lookout for just such a tragedy, for there had +recently been a sheep-killing raid on several farms in that +neighborhood, and for several nights he had had a lantern hung out +on the edge of the woods to scare the dogs away; but a drunken +farm-hand had neglected his duty that Christmas Eve. + +"Yassuh, an' dey's jus' sebenteen dead sheep out dar," said a +negro. + +"Look at the little one," said a tall boy who looked like the +overseer; and Satan knew that he spoke of him. + +"Go back to the house, son," said the overseer, "and tell your +mother to give you a Christmas present I got for you yesterday." +With a glad whoop the boy dashed away, and in a moment dashed back +with a brand-new .32 Winchester in his hand. + +The dark hour before dawn was just breaking on Christmas Day. It +was the hour when Satan usually rushed upstairs to see if his +little mistress was asleep. If he were only at home now, and if he +only had known how his little mistress was weeping for him amid +her playthings and his--two new balls and a brass-studded collar +with a silver plate on which was his name, Satan Dean; and if +Dinnie could have seen him now, her heart would have broken; for +the tall boy raised his gun. There was a let of smoke, a sharp, +clean crack, and the funeral dog started on the right way at last +toward his dead master. Another crack, and the yellow cur leaped +from the ground and fell kicking. Another crack and another, and +with each crack a dog tumbled, until little Satan sat on his +haunches amid the writhing pack, alone. His time was now come. As +the rifle was raised, he heard up at the big house the cries of +children; the popping of fire-crackers; tooting of horns and +whistles and loud shouts of "Christmas Gif', 'Christmas Gif'!" His +little heart beat furiously. Perhaps he knew just what he was +doing; perhaps it was the accident of habit; most likely Satan +simply wanted to go home--but when that gun rose, Satan rose too, +on his haunches, his tongue out, his black eyes steady and his +funny little paws hanging loosely--and begged! The boy lowered the +gun. + +"Down, sir!" Satan dropped obediently, but when the gun was lifted +again, Satan rose again, and again he begged. + +"Down, I tell you!" This time Satan would not down, but sat +begging for his life. The boy turned. + +"Papa, I can't shoot that dog." Perhaps Satan had reached the +stern old overseer's heart. Perhaps he remembered suddenly that it +was Christmas. At any rate, he said gruffly: + +"Well, let him go." + +"Come here, sir!" Satan bounded toward the tall boy, frisking and +trustful and begged again. + +"Go home, sir!" + +Satan needed no second command. Without a sound he fled out the +barn-yard, and, as he swept under the front gate, a little girl +ran out of the front door of the big house and dashed down the +steps, shrieking: + +"Saty! Saty! Oh, Saty!" But Satan never heard. On he fled, across +the crisp fields, leaped the fence and struck the road, lickety- +split! for home, while Dinnie dropped sobbing in the snow. + +"Hitch up a horse, quick," said Uncle Carey, rushing after Dinnie +and taking her up in his arms. Ten minutes later, Uncle Carey and +Dinnie, both warmly bundled up, were after flying Satan. They +never caught him until they reached the hill on the outskirts of +town, where was the kennel of the kind-hearted people who were +giving painless death to Satan's four-footed kind, and where they +saw him stop and turn from the road. There was divine providence +in Satan's flight for one little dog that Christmas morning; for +Uncle Carey saw the old drunkard staggering down the road without +his little companion, and a moment later, both he and Dinnie saw +Satan nosing a little yellow cur between the palings. Uncle Carey +knew the little cur, and While Dinnie was shrieking for Satan, he +was saying under his breath: + +"Well, I swear!--I swear!--I swear!" And while the big man who +came to the door was putting Satan into Dinnie's arms, he said +sharply: + +"Who brought that yellow dog here?" The man pointed to the old +drunkard's figure turning a corner at the foot of the hill. + +"I thought so; I thought so. He sold him to you for--for a drink +of whiskey." + +The man whistled. + +"Bring him out. I'll pay his license." + +So back went Satan and the little cur to Grandmother Dean's--and +Dinnie cried when Uncle Carey told her why he was taking the +little cur along. With her own hands she put Satan's old collar on +the little brute, took him to the kitchen, and fed him first of +all. Then she went into the breakfast-room. + +"Uncle Billy," she said severely, "didn't I tell you not to let +Saty out?" + +"Yes, Miss Dinnie," said the old butler. + +"Didn't I tell you I was goin' to whoop you if you let Saty out?" + +"Yes, Miss Dinnie." + +Miss Dinnie pulled forth from her Christmas treasures a toy +riding-whip and the old darky's eyes began to roll in mock terror. + +"I'm sorry, Uncle Billy, but I des got to whoop you a little." + +"Let Uncle Billy off, Dinnie," said Uncle Carey, "this is +Christmas." + +"All wite," said Dinnie, and she turned to Satan. + +In his shining new collar and innocent as a cherub, Satan sat on +the hearth begging for his breakfast. + + + + + + +A NEST-EGG + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + +This is the simple character sketch in which there is romance +treated with a fine reserve. It employs the local color so +characteristic of Mr. Riley's poems of Indiana. + + + + +A NEST-EGG + +[Footnote: From Volume VI of the Biographical Edition of the +Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley, copyright, 1913. Used by +special permission of the publishers, the Bobbs-Merrill Company.] + + +But a few miles from the city here, and on the sloping banks of +the stream noted more for its plenitude of "chubs" and "shiners" +than the gamier two-and four-pound bass for which, in season, so +many credulous anglers flock and lie in wait, stands a country +residence, so convenient to the stream, and so inviting in its +pleasant exterior and comfortable surroundings--barn, dairy, and +spring-house--that the weary, sunburnt, and disheartened +fisherman, out from the dusty town for a day of recreation, is +often wont to seek its hospitality. The house in style of +architecture is something of a departure from the typical +farmhouse, being designed and fashioned with no regard to symmetry +or proportion, but rather, as is suggested, built to conform to +the matter-of-fact and most sensible ideas of its owner, who, if +it pleased him, would have small windows where large ones ought to +be, and vice versa, whether they balanced properly to the eye or +not. And chimneys--he would have as many as he wanted, and no two +alike, in either height or size. And if he wanted the front of the +house turned from all possible view, as though abashed at any +chance of public scrutiny, why, that was his affair and not the +public's; and, with like perverseness, if he chose to thrust his +kitchen under the public's very nose, what should the generally +fagged-out, half-famished representative of that dignified public +do but reel in his dead minnow, shoulder his fishing-rod, clamber +over the back fence of the old farmhouse and inquire within, or +jog back to the city, inwardly anathematizing that very particular +locality or the whole rural district in general. That is just the +way that farmhouse looked to the writer of this sketch one week +ago--so individual it seemed--so liberal, and yet so independent. +It wasn't even weather-boarded, but, instead, was covered smoothly +with some cement, as though the plasterers had come while the +folks were visiting, and so, unable to get at the interior, had +just plastered the outside. + +I am more than glad that I was hungry enough, and weary enough, +and wise enough to take the house at its first suggestion; for, +putting away my fishing-tackle for the morning, at least, I went +up the sloping bank, crossed the dusty road, and confidently +clambered over the fence. + +Not even a growling dog to intimate that I was trespassing. All +was open--gracious-looking--pastoral. The sward beneath my feet +was velvet-like in elasticity, and the scarce visible path I +followed through it led promptly to the open kitchen door. From +within I heard a woman singing some old ballad in an undertone, +while at the threshold a trim, white-spurred rooster stood poised +on one foot, curving his glossy neck and cocking his wattled head +as though to catch the meaning of the words. I paused. It was a +scene I felt restrained from breaking in upon, nor would I, but +for the sound of a strong male voice coming around the corner of +the house: + +"Sir. Howdy!" + +Turning, I saw a rough-looking but kindly featured man of sixty- +five, the evident owner of the place. + +I returned his salutation with some confusion and much deference. +"I must really beg your pardon for this intrusion," I began, "but +I have been tiring myself out fishing, and your home here looked +so pleasant--and I felt so thirsty--and--" + +"Want a drink, I reckon," said the old man, turning abruptly +toward the kitchen door, then pausing as suddenly, with a backward +motion of his thumb--"jest foller the path here down to the little +brick--that's the spring--and you'll find 'at you've come to the +right place fer drinkin'-worter! Hold on a minute tel I git you a +tumbler--there're nothin' down there but a tin." + +"Then don't trouble yourself any further," I said, heartily, "for +I'd rather drink from a tin cup than a goblet of pure gold." + +"And so'd I," said the old man, reflectively, turning +mechanically, and following me down the path. "'Druther drink out +of a tin--er jest a fruit-can with the top knocked off--er--er--er +a gourd," he added in a zestful, reminiscent tone of voice, that +so heightened my impatient thirst that I reached the spring-house +fairly in a run. + +"Well-sir!" exclaimed my host, in evident delight, as I stood +dipping my nose in the second cupful of the cool, revivifying +liquid, and peering in a congratulatory kind of way at the blurred +and rubicund reflection of my features in the bottom of the cup, +"Well-sir, blame-don! ef it don't do a feller good to see you +enjoyin' of it thataway! But don't you drink too much o' the +worter!--'cause there're some sweet milk over there in one o' them +crocks, maybe; and ef you'll jest, kindo' keerful-like, lift off +the led of that third one, say, over there to yer left, and dip +you out a tinful er two o' that, w'y, it'll do you good to drink +it, and it'll do me good to see you at it--But hold up!--hold up!" +he called, abruptly, as, nowise loath, I bent above the vessel +designated. "Hold yer hosses fer a second! Here's Marthy; let her +git it fer ye." + +If I was at first surprised and confused, meeting the master of +the house, I was wholly startled and chagrined in my present +position before its mistress. But as I arose, and stammered, in my +confusion, some incoherent apology, I was again reassured and put +at greater ease by the comprehensive and forgiving smile the woman +gave me, as I yielded her my place, and, with lifted hat, awaited +her further kindness. + +"I came just in time, sir," she said, half laughingly, as with +strong, bare arms she reached across the gurgling trough and +replaced the lid that I had partially removed.--"I came just in +time, I see, to prevent father from having you dip into the +'morning's-milk,' which, of course, has scarcely a veil of cream +over the face of it as yet. But men, as you are doubtless willing +to admit," she went on jocularly, "don't know about these things. +You must pardon father, as much for his well-meaning ignorance of +such matters, as for this cup of cream, which I am sure you will +better relish." + +She arose, still smiling, with her eyes turned frankly on my own. +And I must be excused when I confess that as I bowed my thanks, +taking the proffered cup and lifting it to my lips, I stared with +an uncommon interest and pleasure at the donor's face. + +She was a woman of certainly not less than forty years of age. But +the figure, and the rounded grace and fulness of it, together with +the features and the eyes, completed as fine a specimen of +physical and mental health as ever it has been my fortune to meet; +there was something so full of purpose and resolve--something so +wholesome, too, about the character--something so womanly--I might +almost say manly, and would, but for the petty prejudice maybe +occasioned by the trivial fact of a locket having dropped from her +bosom as she knelt; and that trinket still dangles in my memory +even as it then dangled and dropped back to its concealment in her +breast as she arose. But her face, by no means handsome in the +common meaning, was marked with a breadth and strength of outline +and expression that approached the heroic--a face that once seen +is forever fixed in memory--a personage once met one must know +more of. And so it was, that an hour later, as I strolled with the +old man about his farm, looking, to all intents, with the +profoundest interest at his Devonshires, Shorthorns, Jerseys, and +the like, I lured from him something of an outline of his +daughter's history. + +"There're no better girl 'n Marthy!" he said, mechanically +answering some ingenious allusion to her worth. "And yit," he went +on reflectively, stooping from his seat in the barn door and with +his open jack-knife picking up a little chip with the point of the +blade--"and yit--you wouldn't believe it--but Marthy was the +oldest o' three daughters, and hed--I may say--hed more advantages +o' marryin'--and yit, as I was jest goin' to say, she's the very +one 'at didn't marry. Hed every advantage--Marthy did. W'y, we +even hed her educated--her mother was a-livin' then--and we was +well enough fixed to afford the educatin' of her, mother allus +contended--and we was--besides, it was Marthy's notion, too, and +you know how women is thataway when they git their head set. So we +sent Marthy down to Indianop'lus, and got her books and putt her +in school there, and paid fer her keepin' and ever'thing; and she +jest--well, you may say, lived there stiddy fer better'n four +year. 0' course she'd git back ever' once-an-a-while, but her +visits was allus, some-way-another, onsatisfactory-like, 'cause, +you see, Marthy was allus my favorite, and I'd allus laughed and +told her 'at the other girls could git married if they wanted, but +SHE was goin' to be the 'nest-egg' of our family, and 'slong as I +lived I wanted her at home with me. And she'd laugh and contend +'at she'd as lif be an old maid as not, and never expected to +marry, ner didn't want to. But she had me sceart onc't, though! +Come out from the city one time, durin' the army, with a peart- +lookin' young feller in blue clothes and gilt straps on his +shoulders. Young lieutenant he was--name o' Morris. Was layin' in +camp there in the city somers. I disremember which camp it was now +adzackly--but anyway, it 'peared like he had plenty o' time to go +and come, fer from that time on he kep' on a-comin'--ever' time +Marthy 'ud come home, he'd come, too; and I got to noticin' 'at +Marthy come home a good 'eal more 'n she used to afore Morris +first brought her. And blame ef the thing didn't git to worryin' +me! And onc't I spoke to mother about it, and told her ef I +thought the feller wanted to marry Marthy I'd jest stop his comin' +right then and there. But mother she sorto' smiled and said +somepin' 'bout men a-never seein' through nothin'; and when I ast +her what she meant, w'y, she ups and tells me 'at Morris didn't +keer nothin' fer Marthy, ner Marthy fer Morris, and then went on +to tell me that Morris was kindo' aidgin' up to'rds Annie--she was +next to Marthy, you know, in pint of years and experience, but +ever'body allus said 'at Annie was the purtiest one o' the whole +three of 'em. And so when mother told me 'at the signs pinted +to'rds Annie, w'y, of course, I hedn't no particular objections to +that, 'cause Morris was of good fambly enough it turned out, and, +in fact, was as stirrin' a young feller as ever I'd want fer a +son-in-law, and so I hed nothin' more to say--ner they wasn't no +occasion to say nothin', 'cause right along about then I begin to +notice 'at Marthy quit comin' home so much, and Morris kep' a- +comin' more. Tel finally, one time he was out here all by hisself, +'long about dusk, come out here where I was feedin', and ast me, +all at onc't, and in a straight-for'ard way, ef he couldn't marry +Annie; and, some-way-another, blame ef it didn't make me as happy +as him when I told him yes! You see that thing proved, pine-blank, +'at he wasn't a-fishin' round fer Marthy. Well-sir, as luck would +hev it, Marthy got home about a half-hour later, and I'll give you +my word I was never so glad to see the girl in my life! It was +foolish in me, I reckon, but when I see her drivin' up the lane-- +it was purt' nigh dark then, but I could see her through the open +winder from where I was settin' at the supper-table, and so I jest +quietly excused myself, p'lite-like, as a feller will, you know, +when they's comp'ny round, and I slipped off and met her jest as +she was about to git out to open the barn gate. 'Hold up, Marthy,' +says I; 'set right where you air; I'll open the gate fer you, and +I'll do anything else fer you in the world 'at you want me to!' + +"'W'y, what's pleased YOU so?' she says, laughin', as she druv +through slow-like and a-ticklin' my nose with the cracker of the +buggy-whip.--'What's pleased YOU?' + +"'Guess,' says I, jerkin' the gate to, and turnin' to lift her +out. + +"'The new peanner's come?' says she, eager-like. + +"'Yer new peanner's come,' says I; 'but that's not it.' + +"'Strawberries fer supper?' says she. + +"'Strawberries fer supper,' says I; 'but that ain't it.' + +"Jest then Morris's hoss whinnied in the barn, and she glanced up +quick and smilin' and says, 'Somebody come to see somebody?' + +"'You're a-gittin' warm,' says I. + +"'Somebody come to see ME?' she says, anxious-like. + +"'No,' says I, 'and I'm glad of it--fer this one 'at's come wants +to git married, and o' course I wouldn't harber in my house no +young feller 'at was a-layin' round fer a chance to steal away the +"Nest-egg,"' says I, laughin'. + +"Marthy had riz up in the buggy by this time, but as I helt up my +hands to her, she sorto' drawed back a minute, and says, all +serious-like and kindo' whisperin': + +"'Is it ANNIE?' + +"I nodded. 'Yes,' says I, 'and what's more, I've give my consent, +and mother's give hern--the thing's all settled. Come, jump out +and run in and be happy with the rest of us!' and I helt out my +hands ag'in, but she didn't 'pear to take no heed. She was kindo' +pale, too, I thought, and swallered a time er two like as ef she +couldn't speak plain. + +"'Who is the man?' she ast. + +"'Who--who's the man?' I says, a-gittin' kindo' out o' patience +with the girl.--'W'y, you know who it is, o' course.--It's +Morris,' says I. 'Come, jump down! Don't you see I'm waitin' fer +ye?' + +"'Then take me,' she says; and blame-don! ef the girl didn't keel +right over in my arms--as limber as a rag! Clean fainted away! +Honest! Jest the excitement, I reckon, o' breakin' it to her so +suddent-like--'cause she liked Annie, I've sometimes thought, +better'n even she did her own mother. Didn't go half so hard with +her when her other sister married. Yes-sir!" said the old man, by +way of sweeping conclusion, as he rose to his feet--"Marthy's the +on'y one of 'em 'at never married--both the others is gone--Morris +went all through the army and got back safe and sound--'s livin' +in Idyho, and doin' fust-rate. Sends me a letter ever' now and +then. Got three little chunks o' grandchildren out there, and I' +never laid eyes on one of 'em. You see, I'm a-gittin' to be quite +a middle-aged man--in fact a very middle-aged man, you might say. +Sence mother died, which has be'n--lem-me-see--mother's be'n dead +somers in the neighborhood o' ten year.--Sence mother died I've +be'n a-gittin' more and more o' MARTHY'S notion--that is,--you +couldn't ever hire ME to marry nobody! and them has allus be'n and +still is the 'Nest-egg's' views! Listen! That's her a-callin' fer +us now. You must sorto' overlook the freedom, but I told Marthy +you'd promised to take dinner with us to-day, and it 'ud never do +to disappint her now. Come on." And, ah! it would have made the +soul of you either rapturously glad or madly envious to see how +meekly I consented. + +I am always thinking that I never tasted coffee till that day; I +am always thinking of the crisp and steaming rolls, ored over with +the molten gold that hinted of the clover-fields, and the bees +that had not yet permitted the honey of the bloom and the white +blood of the stalk to be divorced; I am always thinking that the +young and tender pullet we happy three discussed was a near and +dear relative of the gay patrician rooster that I first caught +peering so inquisitively in at the kitchen door; and I am always-- +always thinking of "The Nest-egg." + + + + + + +WEE WILLIE WINKIE + +BY RUDYARD KIPLING + +As the sub-title, "An Officer and a Gentleman," indicates, this is +a story of character. Mr. Kipling, like Robert Louis Stevenson, +James Whitcomb Riley, and Eugene Field, has carried into his +maturity an imperishable youth of spirit which makes him an +interpreter of children. Here he has shown what our Anglo-Saxon +ideals--honor, obedience, and reverence for woman--mean to a +little child. + + + + +WEE WILLIE WINKIE + +"AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN." + +[Footnote: From "Under the Deodars," by Rudyard Kipling. +Copyright, 1899, by Rudyard Kipling. Reprinted by special +permission of Doubleday, Page and Company.] + + +His full name was Percival William Williams, but he picked up the +other name in a nursery-book, and that was the end of the +christened titles. His mother's ayah called him Willie-Baba, but +as he never paid the faintest attention to anything that the ayah +said, her wisdom did not help matters. + +His father was the Colonel of the 195th, and as soon as Wee Willie +Winkie was old enough to understand what Military Discipline +meant, Colonel Williams put him under it. There was no other way +of managing the child. When he was good for a week, he drew good- +conduct pay; and when he was bad, he was deprived of his good- +conduct stripe. Generally he was bad, for India offers many +chances of going wrong to little six-year-olds. + +Children resent familiarity from strangers, and Wee Willie Winkie +was a very particular child. Once he accepted an acquaintance, he +was graciously pleased to thaw. He accepted Brandis, a subaltern +of the 195th, on sight. Brandis was having tea at the Colonel's, +and Wee Willie Winkie entered strong in the possession of a good- +conduct badge won for not chasing the hens round the compound. He +regarded Brandis with gravity for at least ten minutes, and then +delivered himself of his opinion. + +"I like you," said he slowly, getting off his chair and coming +over to Brandis. "I like you. I shall call you Coppy, because of +your hair. Do you MIND being called Coppy? It is because of ye +hair, you know." + +Here was one of the most embarrassing of Wee Willie Winkie's +peculiarities. He would look at a stranger for some time, and +then, without warning, or explanation, would give him a name. And +the name stuck. No regimental penalties could break Wee Willie +Winkie of this habit. He lost his good-conduct badge for +christening the Commissioner's wife "Pobs"; but nothing that the +Colonel could do made the Station forego the nickname, and Mrs. +Collen remained "Pobs" till the end of her stay. So Brandis was +christened "Coppy," and rose, therefore, in the estimation of the +regiment. + +If Wee Willie Winkie took an interest in any one, the fortunate +man was envied alike by the mess and the rank and file. And in +their envy lay no suspicion of self-interest. "The Colonel's son" +was idolized on his own merits entirely. Yet Wee Willie Winkie was +not lovely. His face was permanently freckled, as his legs were +permanently scratched, and in spite of his mother's almost tearful +remonstrances he had insisted upon having his long yellow locks +cut short in the military fashion. "I want my hair like Sergeant +Tummil's," said Wee Willie Winkie, and, his father abetting, the +sacrifice was accomplished. + +Three weeks after the bestowal of his youthful affections on +Lieutenant Brandis--henceforward to be called "Coppy" for the sake +of brevity--Wee Willie Winkie was destined to behold strange +things and far beyond his comprehension. + +Coppy returned his liking with interest. Coppy had let him wear +for five rapturous minutes his own big sword--just as tall as Wee +Willie Winkie. Coppy had promised him a terrier puppy, and Coppy +had permitted him to witness the miraculous operation of shaving. +Nay, more--Coppy had said that even he, Wee Willie Winkie, would +rise in time to the ownership of a box of shiny knives, a silver +soap-box, and a silver-handled "sputter-brush," as Wee Willie +Winkie called it. Decidedly, there was no one except his own +father, who could give or take away good-conduct badges at +pleasure, half so wise, strong, and valiant as Coppy with the +Afghan and Egyptian medals on his breast. Why, then, should Coppy +be guilty of the unmanly weakness of kissing--vehemently kissing-- +a "big girl," Miss Allardyce to wit? In the course of a morning +ride Wee Willie Winkie had seen Coppy so doing, and, like the +gentleman he was, had promptly wheeled round and cantered back to +his groom, lest the groom should also see. + +Under ordinary circumstances he would have spoken to his father, +but he felt instinctively that this was a matter on which Coppy +ought first to be consulted. + +"Coppy," shouted Wee Willie Winkie, reining up outside that +subaltern's bungalow early one morning--"I want to see you, +Coppy!" + +"Come in, young 'un," returned Coppy, who was at early breakfast +in the midst of his dogs. "What mischief have you been getting +into now?" + +Wee Willie Winkie had done nothing notoriously bad for three days, +and so stood on a pinnacle of virtue. + +"_I_'VE been doing nothing bad," said he, curling himself into a +long chair with a studious affectation of the Colonel's languor +after a hot parade. He buried his freckled nose in a tea-cup and, +with eyes staring roundly over the rim, asked: "I say, Coppy, is +it pwoper to kiss big girls?" + +"By Jove! You're beginning early. Who do you want to kiss?" + +"No one. My muvver's always kissing me if I don't stop her. If it +isn't pwoper, how was you kissing Major Allardyce's big girl last +morning, by ve canal?" + +Coppy's brow wrinkled. He and Miss Allardyce had with great craft +managed to keep their engagement secret for a fortnight. There +were urgent and imperative reasons why Major Allardyce should not +know how matters stood for at least another month, and this small +marplot had discovered a great deal too much. + +"I saw you," said Wee Willie Winkie calmly. "But ve sais didn't +see. I said, 'Hut jao!'" + +"Oh, you had that much sense, you young Rip," groaned poor Coppy, +half amused and half angry. "And how many people may you have told +about it?" + +"Only me myself. You didn't tell when I twied to wide ve buffalo +ven my pony was lame; and I fought you wouldn't like." + +"Winkie," said Coppy enthusiastically, shaking the small hand, +"you're the best of good fellows. Look here, you can't understand +all these things. One of these days--hang it, how can I make you +see it!--I'm going to marry Miss Allardyce, and then she'll be +Mrs. Coppy, as you say. If your young mind is so scandalized at +the idea of kissing big girls, go and tell your father." + +"What will happen?" said Wee Willie Winkie, who firmly believed +that his father was omnipotent. + +"I shall get into trouble," said Coppy, playing his trump card +with an appealing look at the holder of the ace. + +"Ven I won't," said Wee Willie Winkie briefly. "But my faver says +it's un-man-ly to be always kissing, and I didn't fink YOU'D do +vat, Coppy." + +"I'm not always kissing, old chap. It's only now and then, and +when you're bigger you'll do it too. Your father meant it's not +good for little boys." + +"Ah!" said Wee Willie Winkie, now fully enlightened. "It's like ve +sputter-brush?" + +"Exactly," said Coppy gravely. + +"But I don't fink I'll ever want to kiss big girls, nor no one, +'cept my muvver. And I MUST do vat, you know." + +There was a long pause, broken by Wee Willie Winkie. + +"Are you fond of vis big girl, Coppy?" + +"Awfully!" said Coppy. + +"Fonder van you are of Bell or ve Butcha--or me?" + +"It's in a different way," said Coppy. "You see, one of these days +Miss Allerdyce will belong to me, but you'll grow up and command +the Regiment and--all sorts of things. It's quite different, you +see." + +"Very well," said Wee Willie Winkie, rising. "If you're fond of ve +big girl, I won't tell any one. I must go now." + +Coppy rose and escorted his small guest to the door, adding-- +"You're the best of little fellows, Winkie. I tell you what. In +thirty days from now you can tell if you like--tell any one you +like." + +Thus the secret of the Brandis-Allardyce engagement was dependent +on a little child's word. Coppy, who knew Wee Willie Winkie's idea +of truth, was at ease, for he felt that he would not break +promises. Wee Willie Winkie betrayed a special and unusual +interest in Miss Allardyce, and, slowly revolving round that +embarrassed young lady, was used to regard her gravely with +unwinking eye. He was trying to discover why Coppy should have +kissed her. She was not half so nice as his own mother. On the +other hand, she was Coppy's property, and would in time belong to +him. Therefore it behooved him to treat her with as much respect +as Coppy's big sword or shiny pistol. + +The idea that he shared a great secret in common with Coppy kept +Wee Willie Winkie unusually virtuous for three weeks. Then the Old +Adam broke out, and he made what he called a "camp-fire" at the +bottom of the garden. How could be have foreseen that the flying +sparks would have lighted the Colonel's little hay-rick and +consumed a week's store for the horses? Sudden and swift was the +punishment--deprivation of the good-conduct badge and, most +sorrowful of all, two days' confinement to barracks--the house and +veranda--coupled with the withdrawal of the light of his father's +countenance. + +He took the sentence like the man he strove to be, drew himself up +with a quivering under-lip, saluted, and, once clear of the room, +ran to weep bitterly in his nursery--called by him "my quarters." +Coppy came in the afternoon and attempted to console the culprit. + +"I'm under awwest," said Wee Willie Winkie mournfully, "and I +didn't ought to speak to you." + +Very early the next morning he climbed on to the roof of the +house--that was not forbidden--and beheld Miss Allardyce going for +a ride. + +"Where are you going?" cried Wee Willie Winkie. + +"Across the river," she answered, and trotted forward. + +Now the cantonment in which the 195th lay was bounded on the north +by a river--dry in the winter. From his earliest years, Wee Willie +Winkie had been forbidden to go across the river, and had noted +that even Coppy--the almost almighty Coppy--had never set foot +beyond it. Wee Willie Winkie had once been read to, out of a big +blue book, the history of the Princess find the Goblins--a most +wonderful tale of a land where the Goblins were always warring +with the children of men until they were defeated by one Curdie. +Ever since that date it seemed to him that the bare black and +purple hills across the river were inhabited by Goblins, and, in +truth, every one had said that there lived the Bad Men. Even in +his own house the lower halves of the windows were covered with +green paper on account of the Bad Men who might, if allowed clear +view, fire into peaceful drawing-rooms and comfortable bedrooms. +Certainly, beyond the river, which was the end of all the Earth, +lived the Bad Men. And here was Major Allardyce's big girl, +Coppy's property, preparing to venture into their borders! What +would Coppy say if anything happened to her? If the Goblins ran +off with her as they did with Curdie's Princess? She must at all +hazards be turned back. + +The house was still. Wee Willie Winkie reflected for a moment on +the very terrible wrath of his father, and then--broke his arrest! +It was a crime unspeakable. The low sun threw his shadow, very +large and very black, on the trim garden-paths, as he went down to +the stables and ordered his pony. It seemed to him in the hush of +the dawn that all the big world had been bidden to stand still and +look at Wee Willie Winkie guilty of mutiny. The drowsy sais gave +him his mount, and, since the one great sin made all others +insignificant, Wee Willie Winkie said that he was going to ride +over to Coppy Sahib, and went out at a foot-pace, stepping on the +soft mould of the flower-borders. + +The devastating track of the pony's feet was the last misdeed that +cut him off from all sympathy of Humanity. He turned into the +road, leaned forward, and rode as fast as the pony could put foot +to the ground in the direction of the river. + +But the liveliest of twelve-two ponies can do little against the +long canter of a Waler. Miss Allardyce was far ahead, had passed +through the crops, beyond the Police-posts, when all the guards +were asleep, and her mount was scattering the pebbles of the +river-bed as Wee Willie Winkie left the cantonment and British +India behind him. Bowed forward and still flogging, Wee Willie +Winkie shot into Afghan territory, and could just see Miss +Allardyce a black speck flickering across the stony plain. The +reason of her wandering was simple enough. Coppy, in a tone of +too-hastily-assumed authority, had told her over night that she +must not ride out by the river. And she had gone to prove her own +spirit and teach Coppy a lesson. + +Almost at the foot of the inhospitable hills, Wee Willie Winkie +saw the Waler blunder and come down heavily. Miss Allardyce +struggled clear, but her ankle had been severely twisted, and she +could not stand. Having fully shown her spirit, she wept, and was +surprised by the apparition of a white, wide-eyed child in khaki, +on a nearly spent pony. + +"Are you badly, badly hurted?" shouted Wee Willie Winkie, as soon +as he was within range. "You didn't ought to be here." + +"I don't know," said Miss Allardyce ruefully, ignoring the +reproof. "Good gracious, child, what are YOU doing here?" + +"You said you was going acwoss ve wiver," panted Wee Willie +Winkie, throwing himself off his pony. "And nobody--not even +Coppy--must go acwoss ve wiver, and I came after you ever so hard, +but you wouldn't stop, and now you've hurted yourself, and Coppy +will be angwy wiv me, and--I've bwoken my awwest! I've bwoken my +awwest!" + +The future Colonel of the 195th sat down and sobbed. In spite of +the pain in her ankle, the girl was moved. + +"Have you ridden all the way from cantonments, little man? What +for?" + +"You belonged to Coppy. Coppy told me so!" wailed Wee Willie +Winkie disconsolately. "I saw him kissing you, and he said he was +fonder of you van Bell or ve Butcha or me. And so I came. You must +get up and come back. You didn't ought to be here. Vis is a bad +place, and I've bwoken my awwest." + +"I can't move, Winkie," said Miss Allardyce, with a groan. "I've +hurt my foot. What shall I do?" + +She showed a readiness to weep anew, which steadied Wee Willie +Winkie, who had been brought up to believe that tears were the +depth of unmanliness. Still, when one is as great a sinner as Wee +Willie Winkie, even a man may be permitted to break down. + +"Winkie," said Miss Allardyce, "when you've rested a little, ride +back and tell them to send out something to carry me back in. It +hurts fearfully." + +The child sat still for a little time, and Miss Allardyce closed +her eyes; the pain was nearly making her faint. She was roused by +Wee Willie Winkie tying up the reins on his pony's neck and +setting it free with a vicious cut of his whip that made it +whicker. The little animal headed towards the cantonments. + +"Oh, Winkie! What are you doing?" + +"Hush!" said Wee Willie Winkie. "Vere's a man coming--one of ve +Bad Men. I must stay wiv you. My faver says a man must ALWAYS look +after a girl. Jack will go home, and ven vey'll come and look for +us. Vat's why I let him go." + +Not one man, but two or three, had appeared from behind the rocks +of the hills, and the heart of Wee Willie Winkie sank within him, +for just in this manner were the Goblins wont to steal out and vex +Curdie's soul. Thus had they played in Curdie's garden (he had +seen the picture), and thus had they frightened the Princess's +nurse. He heard them talking to each other, and recognized with +joy the bastard Pushto that he had picked up from one of his +father's grooms lately dismissed. People who spoke that tongue +could not be the Bad Men. They were only natives, after all. + +They came up to the boulders on which Miss Allardyce's horse had +blundered. + +Then rose from the rock Wee Willie Winkie, child of the Dominant +Race, aged six and three-quarters, and said briefly and +emphatically, "Jao!" The pony had crossed the river-bed. + +The man laughed, and laughter from natives was the one thing Wee +Willie Winkie could not tolerate. He asked them what they wanted +and why they did not depart. Other men with most evil faces and +crooked-stocked guns crept out of the shadows of the hills, till, +soon, Wee Willie Winkie was face to face with an audience some +twenty strong. Miss Allardyce screamed. + +"Who are you?" said one of the men. + +"I am the Colonel Sahib's son, and my order is that you go at +once. You black men are frightening the Miss Sahib. One of you +must run into cantonments and take the news that the Miss Sahib +has hurt herself, and that the Colonel's son is here with her." + +"Put our feet into the trap?" was the laughing reply. "Hear this +boy's speech!" + +"Say that I sent you--I, the Colonel's son. They will give you +money." + +"What is the use of this talk? Take up the child and the girl, and +we can at least ask for the ransom. Ours are the villages on the +heights," said a voice in the background. + +These WERE the Bad Men--worse than Goblins--and it needed all Wee +Willie Winkie's training to prevent him from bursting into tears. +But he felt that to cry before a native, excepting only his +mother's ayah, would be an infamy greater than any mutiny. +Moreover, he, as future Colonel of the 195th, had that grim +regiment at his back. + +"Are you going to carry us away?" said Wee Willie Winkie, very +blanched and uncomfortable. + +"Yes, my little Sahib Bahadur," said the tallest of the men, "and +eat you afterwards." + +"That is child's talk," said Wee Willie Winkie. "Men do not eat +men." + +A yell of laughter interrupted him, but he went on firmly--"And if +you do carry us away, I tell you that all my regiment will come up +in a day and kill you all without leaving one. Who will take my +message to the Colonel Sahib?" + +Speech in any vernacular--and Wee Willie Winkie had a colloquial +acquaintance with three--was easy to the boy who could not yet +manage his "r's" and "th's" aright. + +Another man joined the conference, crying, "O foolish men! What +this babe says is true. He is the heart's heart of those white +troops. For the sake of peace let them go both, for if he be +taken, the regiment will break loose and gut the valley. OUR +villages are in the valley, and we shall not escape. That regiment +are devils. They broke Khoda Yar's breastbone with kicks when he +tried to take the rifles; and if we touch this child they will +fire and rape and plunder for a month till nothing remains. Better +to send a man back to take the message and get a reward. I say +that this child is their God, and that they will spare none of us, +nor our women, if we harm him." + +It was Din Mahommed, the dismissed groom of the Colonel, who made +the diversion, and an angry and heated discussion followed. Wee +Willie Winkie, standing over Miss Allardyce, waited the upshot. +Surely his "wegiment," his own "wegiment," would not desert him if +they knew of his extremity. + +The riderless pony brought the news to the 195th, though there had +been consternation in the Colonel's household for an hour before. +The little beast came in through the parade-ground in front of the +main barracks, where the men were settling down to play Spoil-five +till the afternoon. Devlin, the Color-Sergeant of E Company, +glanced at the empty saddle and tumbled through the barrack-rooms, +kicking up each Room Corporal as he passed. "Up, ye beggars! +There's something happened to the Colonel's son," he shouted. + +"He couldn't fall off! S'help me, 'e COULDN'T fall off," blubbered +a drummer-boy. "Go an' hunt acrost the river. He's over there if +he's anywhere, an' maybe those Pathans have got 'im. For the love +o' Gawd don't look for 'im in the nullahs! Let's go over the +river." + +"There's sense in Mott yet," said Devlin. "E Company, double out +to the river--sharp!" + +So E Company, in its shirt-sleeves mainly, doubled for the dear +life, and in the rear toiled the perspiring Sergeant, adjuring it +to double yet faster. The cantonment was alive with the men of the +195th hunting for Wee Willie Winkie, and the Colonel finally +overtook E Company, far too exhausted to swear, struggling in the +pebbles of the river-bed. + +Up the hill under which Wee Willie Winkie's Bad Men were +discussing the wisdom of carrying off the child and the girl, a +look-out fired two shots. + +"What have I said?" shouted Din Mahommed. "There is the warning! +The pulton are out already and are coming across the plain! Get +away! Let us not be seen with the boy!" + +The men waited for an instant, and then, as another shot was +fired, withdrew into the hills, silently as they had appeared. + +"The wegiment is coming," said Wee Willie Winkie confidently to +Miss Allardyce, "and it's all wight. Don't cwy!" + +He needed the advice himself, for ten minutes later, when his +father came up, he was weeping bitterly with his head in Miss +Allardyce's lap. + +And the men of the 195th carried him home with shouts and +rejoicings; and Coppy, who had ridden a horse into a lather, met +him, and, to his intense disgust, kissed him openly in the +presence of the men. + +But there was balm for his dignity. His father assured him that +not only would the breaking of arrest be condoned, but that the +good-conduct badge would be restored as soon as his mother could +sew it on his blouse-sleeve. Miss Allardyce had told the Colonel a +story that made him proud of his son. + +"She belonged to you, Coppy," said Wee Willie Winkie, indicating +Miss Allardyce with a grimy fore-finger. "I KNEW she didn't ought +to go acwoss ve wiver, and I knew ve wegiment would come to me if +I sent Jack home." + +"You're a hero, Winkie," said Coppy--"a pukka hero!" + +"I don't know what vat means," said Wee Willie Winkie, "but you +mustn't call me Winkie any no more. I'm Percival Will'am +Will'ams." + +And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into his manhood. + + + + + + +THE GOLD BUG + +BY EDGAR ALLAN POE + +Poe was the first American short-story writer. Others had written +stories that were short, but he was the first to recognize the +short-story as having a form and an aim all its own. Moreover, he +was willing to admit the public to his laboratory and to explain +his process, for he discounted inspiration and emphasized +craftsmanship. In "The Philosophy of Composition" he declares that +every plot "must be elaborated to its denouement before anything +is attempted with the pen. It is only with the denouement +constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air +of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents and +especially the tone, at all points, tend to the development of the +intention." He also tells us that he prefers beginning with an +effect. Having chosen, in the first place, an effect that is both +novel and vivid, he decides "whether it can be best wrought by +incident or tone," and afterward looks about "for such +combinations of events, or tone, as shall best aid ... in the +construction of the effect." + +In view of such explanations, it is interesting to study "The Gold +Bug" and to see how well the plot has been worked out and the tone +established. It is doubtful whether in this story the plot meant +to the writer what it means to the reader. The latter likes the +adventure with its ingeniously fitted parts, each so necessary to +the whole. But after the gold has been found--and that is the +point of greatest interest--the story goes on and on to explain +the cryptogram. This, no doubt, was to Poe the most interesting +thing about the story, the tracing of the steps by which the scrap +of parchment was deciphered and reasoned upon and made to yield up +its secret. As to the time and place, the strange conduct and +character of Legrand, the fears and superstitions of Jupiter, and +the puzzled solicitude of the narrator--all these aid materially +in establishing and maintaining the tone. + + + + +THE GOLD BUG + +[Footnote: From "The Works of Edgar Allan Poe," published by +Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + "What ho' what ho' this fellow is dancing mad! + He hath been bitten by the Tarantula." + + --All in the Wrong. + + +Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William +Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been +wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To +avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New +Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at +Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. + +This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else +than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at +no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the +mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a +wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. +The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least +dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the +western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some +miserable frame buildings, tenanted during summer by the fugitives +from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly +palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this western +point, and a line of hard white beach on the seacoast, is covered +with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by +the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the +height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impenetrable +coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance. + +In the utmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern +or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a +small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made +his acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship--for there was +much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him +well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with +misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm +and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed +them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering +along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or +entomological specimens;--his collection of the latter might have +been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually +accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been +manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could be +induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he +considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young +"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, +conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had +contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to +the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer. + +The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very +severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when +a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18--, +there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just +before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut +of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks--my +residence being at that time in Charleston, a distance of nine +miles from the island, while the facilities of passage and re- +passage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon +reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and, getting no +reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked +the door and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth, It +was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off an +overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited +patiently the arrival of my hosts. + +Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. +Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some +marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else +shall I term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown +bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted +down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scaraboeus which he +believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to +have my opinion on the morrow. + +"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, +and wishing the whole tribe of scaraboei at the devil. + +"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's +so long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would +pay me a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home +I met Lieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent +him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the +morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at +sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!" + +"What?--sunrise?" + +"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about +the size of a large hickory-nut--with two jet black spots near one +extremity of the back, another, somewhat longer, at the other. The +antennae are--" + +"Dey aint NO tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a-tellin' on you," +here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit +of him, inside and all, sep him wing--neber feel half so hebby a +bug in my life." + +"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more +earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded, "is that any +reason for your letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned +to me--"is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You +never saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit-- +but of this you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the mean time I +can give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated +himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no +paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none. + +"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer;" and he drew +from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty +foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he +did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. +When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. +As I received it, a low growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching +at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, +belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and +loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention during +previous visits. When his gambols were over, I looked at the +paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little puzzled +at what my friend had depicted. + +"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this is +a strange scarabaeus, I must confess; new to me: never saw +anything like it before--unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, +which it more nearly resembles than anything else that has come +under MY observation." + +"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand--"Oh--yes--well, it has something +of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots +look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth +--and then the shape of the whole is oval." + +"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I +must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea +of its personal appearance." + +"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw +tolerably--SHOULD do it at least--have had good masters, and +flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead." + +"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a +very passable SKULL,--indeed, I may say that it is a very +EXCELLENT skull, according to the vulgar notions about such +specimens of physiology--and your scarabaeus must be the queerest +scarabaeus in the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a +very thrilling bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you +will call the bug scarabaeus caput hominis, or something of that +kind--there are many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But +where are the antennae you spoke of?" + +"The antennae!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting +unaccountably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the +antennae. I made them as distinct as they are in the original +insect, and I presume that is sufficient." + +"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have--still I don't see them;" +and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing +to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs +had taken; his ill humor puzzled me--and, as for the drawing of +the beetle, there were positively NO antennae visible, and the +whole DID bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a +death's-head. + +He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it, +apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the +design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his +face grew violently red--in another as excessively pale. For some +minutes he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he +sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table, and +proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the farthest corner +of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of the +paper; turning it in all directions. He said nothing, however, and +his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to +exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any comment. +Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper +carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he +locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his +original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed +not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away he +became more and more absorbed in revery, from which no sallies of +mine could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass the night +at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host +in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press +me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with even more +than his usual cordiality. + +It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had +seen nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, +from his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so +dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen +my friend. + +"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?--how is your +master?" + +"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought +be." + +"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?" + +"Dar! dat's it!--him neber plain of notin--but him berry sick for +all dat." + +"VERY sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he +confined to bed?" + +"No, dat he aint!--he aint find nowhar--dat's just whar de shoe +pinch--my mind is got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will." + +"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking +about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails +him?" + +"Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad bout de matter--Massa +Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him--but den what make +him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he +soldiers up, and as white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all +de time----" + +"Keeps a what, Jupiter?" + +"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs I +ebber did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to +keep mighty tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip +fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a +big stick ready cut for to gib him d----d good beating when he did +come--but Ise sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all--he look +so berry poorly." + +"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be +too severe with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't +very well stand it--but can you form no idea of what has +occasioned this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has +anything unpleasant happened since I saw you?" + +"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant SINCE den--'twas FORE +den I'm feared--'twas de berry day you was dare." + +"How? what do you mean?" + +"Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now." + +"The what?" + +"De bug--I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout +de head by dat goole-bug." + +"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?" + +"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see sich a d----d +bug--he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will +cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell +you--den was de time he must ha got de bite. I didn't like de look +ob de bug mouff, myself, no how, so I wouldn't take hold ob him +wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I +rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff--dat was +de way." + +"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the +beetle, and that the bite made him sick?" + +"I don't tink noffin about it--I nose it. What make him dream bout +de goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise heerd +bout dem goole-bugs fore dis." + +"But how do you know he dreams about gold?" + +"How I know? why cause he talk about it in he sleep--dat's how I +nose." + +"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate +circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to- +day?" + +"What de matter, massa?" + +"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?" + +"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me a +note which ran thus: + +"MY DEAR----, Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope +you have not been so foolish as to take offence at any little +brusquerie of mine; but no, that is improbable. + +"Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have +something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or +whether I should tell it at all. + +"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup +annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. +Would you believe it?--he had prepared a huge stick, the other +day, with which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and +spending the day, solus, among the hills on the mainland. I verily +believe that my ill looks alone saved me a flogging. + +"I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met. + +"If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with +Jupiter. DO come. I wish to see you TO-NIGHT, upon business of +importance. I assure you that it is of the HIGHEST importance. + + "Ever yours, + + "WILLIAM LEGRAND." + +There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great +uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of +Legrand. What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed +his excitable brain! What "business of the highest importance" +could HE possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account of him boded +no good. I dreaded lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, +at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my friend. Without a +moment's hesitation, therefore, I prepared to accompany the negro. + +Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all +apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were +to embark. + +"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired. + +"Him syfe, massa, and spade." + +"Very true; but what are they doing here?" + +"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for +him in de town, and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for +'em." + +"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa +Will' going to do with scythes and spades?" + +"Dat's more dan _I_ know, and debbil take me if I don't blieve 't +is more dan he know, too. But it's all cum ob de bug." + +Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose +whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped +into the boat and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon +ran into the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a +walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about three +in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in +eager expectation. He grasped my hand with a nervous EMPRESSEMENT, +which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions already +entertained. His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his +deep-set eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After some inquiries +respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing what better to +say, if he had yet obtained the scarabaeus from Lieutenant G--. + +"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the +next morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that +scarabaeus. Do you know that Jupiter is quite right about it!" + +"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart. + +"In supposing it to be a bug of REAL GOLD." He said this with an +air of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked. + +"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant +smile, "to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any +wonder, then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to +bestow it upon me, I have only to use it properly and I shall +arrive at the gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me +that scarabaeus!" + +"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug--you +mus git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a +grave and stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case +in which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabaeus, and, at +that time, unknown to naturalists--of course a great prize in a +scientific point of view. There were two round, black spots near +one extremity of the back, and a long one near the other. The +scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the appearance +of burnished gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable, +and, taking all things into consideration, I could hardly blame +Jupiter for his opinion respecting it; but what to make of +Legrand's agreement with that opinion, I could not, for the life +of me, tell. + +"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had +completed my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you, that I +might have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of +Fate and of the bug----" + +"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly +unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go +to bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over +this. You are feverish and----" + +"Feel my pulse," said he. + +I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest +indication of fever. + +"But you may be ill, and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to +prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next----" + +"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I can expect +to be under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me +well, you will relieve this excitement." + +"And how is this to be done?" + +"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into +the hills, upon the mainland, and in this expedition, we shall +need the aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the +only one we can trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement +which you now perceive in me will be equally allayed." + +"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; "but do you +mean to say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your +expedition into the hills?" + +"It has." + +"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd +proceeding." + +"I am sorry--very sorry--for we shall have to try it by +ourselves." + +"Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!--but stay--how long +do you propose to be absent?" + +"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at +all events, by sunrise." + +"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of +yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your +satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice +implicitly, as that of your physician?" + +"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to +lose." + +With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four +o'clock--Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with +him the scythe and spades--the whole of which he insisted upon +carrying, more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either +of the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess +of industry or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the +extreme, and "dat d----d bug" were the sole words which escaped +his lips during the journey. For my own part, I had charge of a +couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the +scarabaeus, which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whip- +cord; twirling it to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he +went. When I observed this last, plain evidence of my friend's +aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought +it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least for the present, or +until I could adopt some more energetic measures with a chance of +success. In the mean time I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound +him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in +inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold +conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my +questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!" + +We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a +skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the +mainland, proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract +of country excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a +human footstep was to be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; +pausing only for an instant, here and there, to consult what +appeared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a +former occasion. + +In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was +just setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than +any yet seen. It was a species of tableland, near the summit of an +almost inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, +and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon +the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating +themselves into the valleys below merely by the support of the +trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various +directions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity to the scene. + +The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly +overgrown with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it +would have been impossible to force our way but for the scythe; +and Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us +a path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, +with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed +them all, and all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the +beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its +branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance. When we +reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if he +thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little staggered +by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At length he +approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined +it with minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he +merely said: + +"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life." + +"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too +dark to see what we are about." + +"How far mus go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter. + +"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way +to go--and here--stop! take this beetle with you." + +"De bug, Massa Will!--de goole-bug!" cried the negro, drawing back +in dismay--"what for mus tote de bug way up de tree?--d----n if I +do!" + +"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold +of a harmless little dead beetle, why, you can carry it up by this +string--but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I +shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this +shovel." + +"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed into +compliance; "always want fur to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was +only funnin anyhow. ME feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" +Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, +and, maintaining the insect as far from his person as +circumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the tree. + +In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron Tulipifera, the most +magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, +and often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, +in its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many +short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty +of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance than in +reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with +his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and +resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two +narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the +first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business as +virtually accomplished. The RISK of the achievement was, in fact, +now over, although the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from +the ground. + +"Which way mus go now, Massa Will?" he asked. + +"Keep up the largest branch,--the one on this side," said Legrand. +The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little +trouble, ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his +squat figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which +enveloped it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. + +"How much fudder is got for go?" + +"How high up are you?" asked Legrand. + +"Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky fru de top ob +de tree." + +"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk +and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have +you passed?" + +"One, two, tree, four, fibe--I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon +dis side." + +"Then go one limb higher." + +In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the +seventh limb was attained. + +"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to +work your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see +anything strange, let me know." + +By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor +friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative +but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously +anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what +was best to be done, Jupiter's voice was again heard. + +"Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far--'tis dead limb +putty much all de way." + +"Did you say it was a DEAD limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand in a +quavering voice. + +"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail--done up for sartain--done +departed dis here life." "What in the name of heaven shall I do?" +asked Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress. + +"Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, "why +come home and go to bed. Come now!--that's a fine fellow. It's +getting late, and, besides, you remember your promise." + +"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear +me?" + +"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain." + +"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it +VERY rotten." + +"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few +moments, "but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought ventur out +leetle way pon de limb by myself, dat's true." + +"By yourself!--what do you mean?" + +"Why, I mean de bug. 'Tis BERRY hebby bug. Spose I drop him down +fuss, and den de limb won't break wid just de weight ob one +nigger." + +"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, +"what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as +you let that beetle fall, I'll break your neck. Look here, +Jupiter! do you hear me?" + +"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style." + +"Well! now listen!--if you will venture out on the limb as far as +you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present +of a silver dollar as soon as you get down." + +"I'm gwine, Massa Will--deed I is," replied the negro very +promptly--"mos out to the eend now." + +"OUT TO THE END!" here fairly screamed Legrand, "do you say you +are out to the end of that limb?" + +"Soon be to de eend, massa,--o-o-o-o-oh! Lord-gol-a-marcy! what IS +dis here pon de tree?" + +"Well!" cried Legrand, highly delighted, "what is it?" + +"Why taint noffin but a skull--somebody bin lef him head up de +tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off." + +"A skull, you say!--very well!--how is it fastened to the limb?-- +what holds it on?" + +"Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why, dis berry curous sarcumstanee, +pon my word--dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob +it on to de tree." + +"Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you--do you hear?" + +"Yes, massa." + +"Pay attention, then!--find the left eye of the skull." + +"Hum! hoo! dat's good! why, dar aint no eye lef at all." + +"Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your +left?" + +"Yes, I nose dat--nose all bout dat--'tis my lef hand what I chops +de wood wid." + +"To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is on the same +side as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye +of the skull, or the place where the left eye has been. Have you +found it?" + +Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked, + +"Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand of de +skull, too?--cause de skull aint got not a bit ob a hand at all-- +nebber mind! I got de lef eye now--here de lef eye! what must do +wid it?" + +"Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach-- +but be careful and not let go your hold of the string." + +"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru +de hole--look for him dar below!" + +During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could be seen; +but the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible +at the end of the string, and glistened, like a globe of burnished +gold, in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still +faintly illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabaeus +hung quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would +have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately took the scythe, and +cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, +just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered +Jupiter to let go the string and come down from the tree. + +Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise +spot where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket +a tape-measure. Fastening one end of this at that point of the +trunk of the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till +it reached the peg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the +direction already established by the two points of the tree and +the peg, for the distance of fifty feet--Jupiter clearing away the +brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg +was driven, and about this, as a centre, a rude circle, about four +feet in diameter, described. Taking now a spade himself, and +giving one to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set +about digging as quickly as possible. + +To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at +any time, and, at that particular moment, would most willingly +have declined it; for the night was coming on, and I felt much +fatigued with the exercise already taken; but I saw no mode of +escape, and was fearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity +by a refusal. Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I +would have had no hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home +by force; but I was too well assured of the old negro's +disposition to hope that he would assist me, under any +circumstances, in a personal contest with his master. I made no +doubt that the latter had been infected with some of the +innumerable Southern superstitions about money buried, and that +his fantasy had received confirmation by the finding of the +scarabaeus, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinacy in maintaining it +to be "a bug of real gold." A mind disposed to lunacy would +readily be led away by such suggestions, especially if chiming in +with favorite preconceived ideas; and then I called to mind the +poor fellow's speech about the beetle's being "the index of his +fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, but at +length I concluded to make a virtue of necessity--to dig with a +good will, and thus the sooner to convince the visionary, by +ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinions he +entertained. + +The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal +worthy a more rational cause; and, as the glare fell upon our +persons and implements, I could not help thinking how picturesque +a group we composed, and how strange and suspicious our labors +must have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have +stumbled upon our whereabouts. + +We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chief +embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding +interest in our proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperous +that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in +the vicinity; or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand; +for myself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might +have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, at +length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of +the hole with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth +up with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with a grave +chuckle, to his task. + +When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of +five feet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A +general pause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an +end. Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped +his brow thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire +circle of four feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the +limit, and went to the farther depth of two feet. Still nothing +appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length +clambered from the pit, with the bitterest disappointment +imprinted upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and +reluctantly, to put on his coat, which he had thrown off at the +beginning of his labor. In the mean time I made no remark. +Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began to gather up his +tools. This done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned in +profound silence towards home. + +We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, when, with +a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the +collar. The astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the +fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees. + +"You scoundrel," said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from +between his clenched teeth--"you infernal black villain!--speak, I +tell you!--answer me this instant, without prevarication!--which-- +which is your left eye?" + +"Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for sartain?" +roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his right +organ of vision, and holding it there with a desperate +pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of his master's attempt at a +gouge. + +"I thought so!--I knew it! hurrah!" vociferated Legrand, letting +the negro go, and executing a series of curvets and caracoles, +much to the astonishment of his valet, who, arising from his +knees, looked mutely from his master to myself, and then from +myself to his master. "Come! we must go back," said the latter, +"the game's not up yet;" and he again led the way to the tulip- +tree. + +"Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, "come here! was the +skull nailed to the limb with the face outward, or with the face +to the limb?" + +"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes +good, widout any trouble." + +"Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you dropped the +beetle!"--here Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes. + +"'Twas dis eye, massa--de lef eye--jis as you tell me," and here +it was his right eye that the negro indicated. + +"That will do--we must try it again." + +Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I +saw, certain indications of method, removed the peg which marked +the spot where the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to +the westward of its former position. Taking, now, the tape-measure +from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and +continuing the extension in a straight line to the distance of +fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by several yards, from +the point at which we had been digging. + +Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the +former instance, was now described, and we again set to work with +the spades. I was dreadfully weary, but, scarcely understanding +what had occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer +any great aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most +unaccountably interested--nay, even excited. Perhaps there was +something, amid all the extravagant demeanor of Legrand--some air +of forethought, or of deliberation--which impressed me. I dug +eagerly, and now and then caught myself actually looking, with +something that very much resembled expectation, for the fancied +treasure, the vision of which had demented my unfortunate +companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully +possessed me, and when we had been at work perhaps an hour and a +half, we were again interrupted by the violent howlings of the +dog. His uneasiness, in the first instance, had been evidently but +the result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter +and serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, +he made furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up +the mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he had +uncovered a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, +intermingled with several buttons of metal, and what appeared to +be the dust of decayed woollen. One or two strokes of a spade +upturned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug +farther, three or four loose pieces of gold and silver coin came +to light. + +At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, +but the countenance of his master wore an air of extreme +disappointment. He urged us, however, to continue our exertions, +and the words were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell +forward, having caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron +that lay half buried in the loose earth. + +We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more +intense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed +an oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and +wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some +mineralizing process--perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. +This box was three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two +and a half feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought +iron, riveted, and forming a kind of trellis-work over the whole. +On each side of the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron +--six in all--by means of which a firm hold could be obtained by +six persons. Our utmost united endeavors served only to disturb +the coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the +impossibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole +fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we +drew back--trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a +treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays +of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upwards, from a +confused heap of gold and of jewels, a glow and a glare that +absolutely dazzled our eyes. + +I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. +Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted +with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter's countenance +wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in +the nature of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed +stupefied--thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in +the pit, and, burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let +them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, +with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy: + +"And dis all cum ob de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! de poor +little goole-bug, what I boosed in dat sabage kind ob style! Aint +you shamed ob yourself, nigger?--answer me dat!" + +It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and +valet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing +late, and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get +everything housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what +should be done, and much time was spent in deliberation--so +confused were the ideas of all. We finally lightened the box by +removing two-thirds of its contents, when we were enabled, with +some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out +were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, +with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretence, to +stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth until our return. We +then hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching the hut in +safety, but after excessive toil, at one o'clock in the morning. +Worn out as we were, it was not in human nature to do more just +now. We rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills +immediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which by +good luck were upon the premises. A little before four we arrived +at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as +might be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out +for the hut, at which, for the second time, we deposited our +golden burdens, just as the first streaks of the dawn gleamed from +over the tree-tops in the East. + +We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of +the time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three +or four hours' duration, we arose, as if by pre-concert, to make +examination of our treasure. + +The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, +and the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its +contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement. +Everything had been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all +with care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than +we had at first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four +hundred and fifty thousand dollars: estimating the value of the +pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of the period. +There was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date +and of great variety: French, Spanish, and German money, with a +few English guineas, and some counters, of which we had never seen +specimens before. There were several very large and heavy coins, +so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. There +was no American money. The value of the jewels we found more +difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds--some of them +exceedingly large and fine--a hundred and ten in all, and not one +of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy; three +hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one +sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken from +their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings +themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, +appeared to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent +identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of +solid gold ornaments: nearly two hundred massive finger and ear +rings; rich chains--thirty of these, if I remember; eighty-three +very large and heavy crucifixes; five gold censers of great value; +a prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented with richly chased +vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two sword handles +exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller articles which I +cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables exceeded three +hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in this estimate I have +not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches; +three of the number being worth each five hundred dollars, if one. +Many of them were very old, and as time-keepers valueless, the +works having suffered more or less from corrosion; but all were +richly jewelled and in cases of great worth. We estimated the +entire contents of the chest, that night, at a million and a half +of dollars; and, upon the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and +jewels (a few being retained for our own use), it was found that +we had greatly undervalued the treasure. + +When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense +excitement of the time had in some measure subsided, Legrand, who +saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this most +extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the +circumstances connected with it. + +"You remember," said he, "the night when I handed you the rough +sketch I had made of the scaraboeus. You recollect also, that I +became quite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled +a death's-head. When you first made this assertion I thought you +were jesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots +on the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark +had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic +powers irritated me--for I am considered a good artist--and, +therefore, when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about +to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire." + +"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I. + +"No: it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I +supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I +discovered it, at once, to be a piece of very thin parchment. It +was quite dirty, you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of +crumpling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had +been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment when I +perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head just where, it +seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I +was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my design +was very different in detail from this--although there was a +certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle +and, seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to +scrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw +my own sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first +idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity +of outline--at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that, +unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon the other side +of the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the scarabaeus, +and that this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should so +closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this +coincidence absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual +effect of such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish a +connection--a sequence of cause and effect--and, being unable to +do so, suffers a species of temporary paralysis. But, when I +recovered from this stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a +conviction which startled me even far more than the coincidence. I +began distinctly, positively, to remember that there had been no +drawing on the parchment when I made my sketch of the scarabaeus. +I became perfectly certain of this; for I recollected turning up +first one side and then the other, in search of the cleanest spot. +Had the skull been then there, of course I could not have failed +to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible +to explain; but, even at that early moment, there seemed to +glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers of my +intellect, a glowworm-like conception of that truth which last +night's adventure brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I +arose at once, and, putting the parchment securely away, dismissed +all farther reflection until I should be alone. + +"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook +myself to a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the +first place I considered the manner in which the parchment had +come into my possession. The spot where we discovered the +scarabaeus was on the coast of the mainland, about a mile eastward +of the island, and but a short distance above high-water mark. +Upon my taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused +me to let it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before +seizing the insect, which had flown towards him, looked about him +for a leaf, or something of that nature, by which to take hold of +it. It was at this moment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon +the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to be paper, It was +lying half buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot +where we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what +appeared to have been a ship's long boat. The wreck seemed to have +been there for a very great while; for the resemblance to boat +timbers could scarcely be traced. + +"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, +and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on +the way met Lieutenant G----. I showed him the insect, and he +begged me to let him take it to the fort. On my consenting, he +thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without the +parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which I had continued +to hold in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my +changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure of the prize at +once--you know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected +with Natural History. At the same time, without being conscious of +it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own pocket. + +"You remember that when I went to the table, for the purpose of +making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper where it was +usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and found none there. I +searched my pockets, hoping to find an old letter, and then my +hand fell upon the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in +which it came into my possession; for the circumstances impressed +me with peculiar force. + +"No doubt you will think me fanciful--but I had already +established a kind of CONNECTION. I had put together two links of +a great chain. There was a boat lying on a seacoast, and not far +from the boat was a parchment--NOT A PAPER--with a skull depicted +on it. You will, of course, ask 'where is the connection?' I reply +that the skull, or death's-head, is the well-known emblem of the +pirate. The flag of the death's-head is hoisted in all +engagements. + +"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. +Parchment is durable--almost imperishable. Matters of little +moment are rarely consigned to parchment; since, for the mere +ordinary purposes of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well +adapted as paper. This reflection suggested some meaning--some +relevancy--in the death's-head. I did not fail to observe, also, +the FORM of the parchment. Although one of its corners had been, +by some accident, destroyed, it could be seen that the original +form was oblong. It was just such a slip, indeed, as might have +been chosen for a memorandum--for a record of something to be long +remembered and carefully preserved." + +"But," I interposed, "you say that the skull was NOT upon the +parchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you +trace any connection between the boat and the skull--since this +latter, according to your own admission, must have been designed +(God only knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your +sketching the scarabaeus?" + +"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at +this point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My +steps were sure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, +for example, thus: When I drew the scarabaeus, there was no skull +apparent on the parchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave +it to you, and observed you narrowly until you returned it. YOU, +therefore, did not design the skull, and no one else was present +to do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And nevertheless +it was done. + +"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and DID +remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred +about the period in question. The weather was chilly (O rare and +happy accident!), and a fire was blazing on the hearth. I was +heated with exercise and sat near the table. You, however had +drawn a chair close to the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment +in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, +the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With +your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your +right, holding the parchment, was permitted to fall listlessly +between your knees, and in close proximity to the fire. At one +moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution +you, but, before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were +engaged in its examination. When I considered all these +particulars, I doubted not for a moment that HEAT had been the +agent in bringing to light, on the parchment, the skull which I +saw designed on it. You are well aware that chemical preparations +exist, and have existed time out of mind, by means of which it is +possible to write on either paper or vellum, so that the +characters shall become visible only when subjected to the action +of fire. Zaffre, digested in aqua regia, and diluted with four +times its weight of water, is sometimes employed; a green tint +results. The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, +gives a red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter intervals +after the material written upon cools, but again become apparent +upon the reapplication of heat. + +"I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its outer edges-- +the edges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum--were far +more DISTINCT than the others. It was clear that the action of the +caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a +fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing +heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint +lines in the skull; but, on persevering in the experiment, there +became visible at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to +the spot in which the death's-head was delineated, the figure of +what I at first supposed to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, +satisfied me that it was intended for a kid." + +"Ha! ha!" said I, "to be sure I have no right to laugh at you--a +million and a half of money is too serious a matter for mirth--but +you are not about to establish a third link in your chain: you +will not find any especial connection between your pirates and a +goat; pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats; they +appertain to the farming interest." + +"But I have just said that the figure was NOT that of a goat." + +"Well, a kid, then--pretty much the same thing." + +"Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. "You may have +heard of one CAPTAIN Kidd. I at once looked on the figure of the +animal as a kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say +signature; because its position on the vellum suggested this idea. +The death's-head at the corner diagonally opposite had, in the +same manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put out +by the absence of all else--of the body to my imagined instrument +--of the text for my context." + +"I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the +signature." + +"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly +impressed with a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. +I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire +than an actual belief;--but do you know that Jupiter's silly +words, about the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect +on my fancy? And then the series of accidents and coincidences-- +these were so VERY extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an +accident it was that these events should have occurred on the SOLE +day of all the year in which it has been, or may be, sufficiently +cool for fire, and that without the fire, or without the +intervention of the dog at the precise moment in which he +appeared, I should never have become aware of the death's-head, +and so never the possessor of the treasure!" + +"But proceed--I am all impatience." + +"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current--the +thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere on the +Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must have +had some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so +long and so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me, +only from the circumstance of the buried treasure still REMAINING +entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and +afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would scarcely have reached us +in their present unvarying form. You will observe that the stories +told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the +pirate recovered his money, there the affair would have dropped. +It seemed to me that some accident--say the loss of a memorandum +indicating its locality--had deprived him of the means of +recovering it, and that this accident had become known to his +followers, who otherwise might never have heard that treasure had +been concealed at all, and, who, busying themselves in vain, +because unguided, attempts to regain it, had given first birth, +and then universal currency, to the reports which are now so +common. Have you ever heard of any important treasure being +unearthed along the coast?" + +"Never." + +"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense is well known. I took +it for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you +will scarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, +nearly amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely +found involved a lost record of the place of deposit." + +"But how did you proceed?" + +"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, +but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating +of dirt might have something to do with the failure; so I +carefully rinsed the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, +having done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull +downwards, and put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In +a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed +the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in +several places, with what appeared to be figures arranged in +lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain +another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as you see +it now." + +Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to my +inspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a red +tint, between the death's-head and the goat:--********53 *305)) 6* +4826) 4.) 4J);806*;48f8lIeo)) 85;; ] 8*;: $*8f83(88)5*f;46(,- +88*9e*?;'S)*t(;485);5*f2:*t(;4956 *2(5*-4)8H8*;4oe9285);)ef8)4JJ;l +(J9;48081;8:8Jl;48 f85;4) 485t5288oe*8l(|9;48;(88;4(J +134,48)4}:;161;:188***** + +"But," said I, returning him the slip, "I am as much in the dark +as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me on my +solution of this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable +to earn them." + +"And yet," said Legrand, "the solution is by no means so difficult +as you might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of +the characters. These characters, as any one might readily guess, +form a cipher--that is to say, they, convey a meaning; but then, +from what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of +constructing any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my +mind, at once, that this was of a simple species--such, however, +as would appear, to the crude intellect of the sailor, absolutely +insoluble without the key." + +"And you really solved it?" + +"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand +times greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led +me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted +whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which +human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, +having once established connected and legible characters, I +scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty of developing their +import. + +"In the present case--indeed in all cases of secret writing--the +first question regards the LANGUAGE of the cipher; for the +principles of solution, so far, especially, as the more simple +ciphers are concerned, depend on, and are varied by, the genius of +the particular idiom. + +"In general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed by +probabilities) of every tongue known to him who attempts the +solution, until the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now +before us, all difficulty is removed by the signature. The pun +upon the word 'Kidd' is appreciable in no other language than the +English. But for this consideration I should have begun my +attempts with the Spanish and French, as the tongues in which a +secret of this kind would most naturally have been written by a +pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the cryptograph +to be English. + +"You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there +been divisions, the task would have been comparatively easy. In +such case I should have commenced with a collation and analysis of +the shorter words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as +is most likely ('a' or 'I', for example), I should have considered +the solution as assured. But, there being no division, my first +step was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as the +least frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table, thus: + +"Of the character 8 there are 33 +; " 26 + +4 " 19 + +t) " 16 + +* " 13 + +5 " 12 + +6 " 11 + +tl" 8 + +0 " 6 + +92 " 5 + +:3 " 4 + +, " 3 + +IF " 2 + +]--" 1 + +"Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is 'e'. +Afterwards the succession runs thus: a o i d h n r s t n y c f g l +m w b k p q x z. 'E' predominates, however, so remarkably that an +individual sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is +not the prevailing character. + +"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork for +something more than a mere guess. The general use which may be +made of the table is obvious--but, in this particular cipher, we +shall only very partially require its aid. As our predominant +character is 8, we will commence by assuming it as the 'e' of the +natural alphabet. To verify the supposition, let us observe if the +8 be seen often in couples--for 'e' is doubled with great +frequency in English--in such words, for example, as 'meet,' +'fleet,' 'speed,' 'seen,' 'been,' 'agree' and 'see'. In the +present instance we see it doubled no less than five times, +although the cryptograph is brief. + +"Let us assume 8, then, as 'e'. Now, of all WORDS in the language, +'the' is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are not +repetitions of any three characters, in the same order of +collocation, the last of them being 8. If we discover repetitions +of such letters, so arranged, they will most probably represent +the word 'the.' On inspection, we find no less than seven such +arrangements, the characters being: ;48. We may, therefore, assume +that the semicolon represents 't', that 4 represents 'h', and that +8 represents 'e'--the last being now well confirmed. Thus a great +step has been taken. + +"But, having established a single word, we are enabled to +establish a vastly important point; that is to say, several +commencements and terminations of other words. Let us refer, for +example, to the last instance but one, in which the combination +;48 occurs--not far from the end of the cipher. We know that the +semicolon immediately ensuing is the commencement of a word, and, +of the six characters succeeding this 'the,' we are cognizant of +no less than five. Let us set these characters down, thus, by the +letters we know them to represent, leaving a space for the +unknown-- + + t eeth. + +"Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the 'th,' as forming no +portion of the word commencing with the first 't'; since, by +experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter adapted to the +vacancy, we perceive that no word can be formed of which this 'th' +can be a part. We are thus narrowed into + + t ee, + +and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we +arrive at the word 'tree' as the sole possible reading. We thus +gain another letter, 'r', represented by (, with the words 'the +tree' in juxtaposition. + +"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see +the combination ;4S, and employ it by way of TERMINATION to what +immediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement: + + the tree ;4(*t?34** the, + +or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus: + + the tree thr**?3h the. + +"Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave blank +spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus: + + the tree thr . . . h the. + +when the word 'THROUGH' makes itself evident at once. But this +discovery gives us three new letters, o, u, and g, represented by + + $ ? and 3. + +"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of +known characters, we find, not very far from the beginning, this +arrangement, + + 83(88, or egree, + +which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree,' and gives +us another letter, d, represented by t. + +"Four letters beyond the word 'degree,' we perceive the +combination + + ;46(;88* + +"Translating the known characters, and representing the unknown by +dots, as before, we read thus: + + th . rtee . , + +an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 'thirteen,' and +again furnishing us with two new characters, i and n, represented +by 6 and *. + +"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find the +combination, + + 53***. + +"Translating, as before, we obtain + + good, + +which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first +two words are 'A good.' + +"To avoid confusion, it is now time that we arrange our key, as +far as discovered, in a tabular form. It will stand thus: (More +code-Prf) + +5 represents a + +t " d + +8 " e + +3 " g + +4 " h + +6 " i + +* " n + +I " o + +( " r + +; " t + +"We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most important +letters represented, and it will be unnecessary to proceed with +the details of the solution. I have said enough to convince you +that ciphers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give you +some insight into the rationale of their development. But be +assured that the specimen before us appertains to the very +simplest species of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you +the full translation of the characters upon the parchment, as +unriddled. Here it is: + +"'A good glass in the Bishop's hostel in the devil's seat twenty- +one degrees and thirteen minutes north-east and by north main +branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the +death's-head a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet +out.'" + +"But," said I, "the enigma seems still in as bad a condition as +ever. How is it possible to extort a meaning from all this jargon +about 'devil's seats,' 'death's-heads' and 'Bishop's hotels'?" + +"I confess," replied Legrand, "that the matter still wears a +serious aspect, when regarded with a casual glance. My first +endeavor was to divide the sentence into the natural division +intended by the cryptographist. + +"You mean, to punctuate it?" + +"Something of that kind." + +"But how was it possible to effect this?" + +"I reflected that it had been a POINT with the writer to run his +words together without division, so as to increase the difficulty +of solution. Now, a not over-acute man, in pursuing such an +object, would be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the +course of his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject +which would naturally require a pause, or a point, he would be +exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more than +usually close together. If you will observe the MS., in the +present instance, you will easily detect five such cases of +unusual crowding. Acting on this hint, I made the division thus: + +"'A good glass in the Bishop's hostel in the Devil's seat--twenty- +one degrees and thirteen minutes--north-east and by north--main +branch seventh limb east side--shoot from the left eye of the +death's-head--a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet +out.'" + +"Even this division," said I, "leaves me still in the dark." + +"It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, "for a few days; +during which I made diligent inquiry, in the neighborhood of +Sullivan's Island, for any building which went by the name of the +'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word +'hostel.' Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the +point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more +systematic manner, when one morning it entered into my head, quite +suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some reference to +an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had +held possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles to the +northward of the island. I accordingly went over to the +plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older negroes +of the place. At length one of the most aged of the women said +that she had heard of such a place as Bessop's Castle, and thought +that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a +tavern, but a high rock. + +"I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, +she consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without +much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the +place. The 'castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs +and rocks--one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height +as well as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I +clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what +should be next done. + +"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell on a narrow ledge +in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit +upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, +and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just +above it gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed +chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the +'devil's seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp +the full secret of the riddle. + +"The 'good glass,' I knew, could have reference to nothing but a +telescope; for the word 'glass' is rarely employed in any other +sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be +used, and a definite point of view, ADMITTING NO VARIATION, from +which to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, +'twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,' and 'north-east and by +north,' were intended as directions for the levelling of the +glass. Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, +procured a telescope, and returned to the rock. + +"I let myself down the ledge, and found that it was impossible to +retain a seat on it unless in one particular position. This fact +confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of +course, the 'twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude +to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the +horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, 'north- +east and by north.' This latter direction I at once established by +means of a pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at +an angle of twenty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by +guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my attention was +arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage of a large +tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of +this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not, at first, +distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I +again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull. + +"On this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma +solved; for the phrase 'main branch, seventh limb, east side,' +could refer only to the position of the skull on the tree, while +'shoot from the left eye of the death's-head' admitted, also, of +but one interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. +I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye +of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight +line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk through 'the shot' +(or the spot where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a +distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point--and +beneath this point I thought it at least POSSIBLE that a deposit +of value lay concealed." + +"All this," I said, "is exceedingly clear, and, although +ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop's +Hotel, what then?" + +"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned +homewards. The instant that I left 'the devil's seat,' however, +the circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it +afterwards, turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity +in this whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has +convinced me it IS a fact) that the circular opening in question +is visible from no other attainable point of view than that +afforded by the narrow ledge on the face of the rock. + +"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended by +Jupiter, who had no doubt observed, for some weeks past, the +abstraction of my demeanor, and took especial care not to leave me +alone. But on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to +give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. +After much toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet +proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I +believe you are as well acquainted as myself." + +"I suppose," said I, "you missed the spot, in the first attempt at +digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting the bug fall +through the right instead of through the left eye of the skull." + +"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and +a half in the 'shot'--that is to say, in the position of the peg +nearest the tree; and had the treasure been BENEATH the 'shot,' +the error would have been of little moment; but 'the shot,' +together with the nearest point of the tree, were merely two +points for the establishment of a line of direction; of course the +error, however trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded +with the line, and, by the time we had gone fifty feet, threw us +quite off the scent. But for my deep-seated convictions that +treasure was here somewhere actually buried, we might have had all +our labor vain." + +"I presume the fancy of THE SKULL--of letting fall a bullet +through the skull's eye--was suggested to Kidd by the piratical +flag. No doubt he felt a kind of poetical consistency in +recovering his money through this ominous insignium." + +"Perhaps so; still, I cannot help thinking that common-sense had +quite as much to do with the matter as poetical consistency. To be +visible from the Devil's seat, it was necessary that the object, +if small, should be WHITE; and there is nothing like your human +skull for retaining and even increasing its whiteness under +exposure to all vicissitudes of weather." + +"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle +--how excessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you +insist on letting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the +skull?" + +"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident +suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you +quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober mystification. +For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it +fall from the tree. An observation of yours about its great weight +suggested the latter idea." + +"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles +me. What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole?" + +"That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. +There seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for +them--and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my +suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd--if Kidd indeed +secreted this treasure, which I doubt not--it is clear that he +must have had assistance in the labor. But, the worst of this +labor concluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove all +participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with a +mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy in the +pit; perhaps it required a dozen--who shall tell?" + + + + + + +THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF + +BY + +O. HENRY + +This is a plot-story of the kind in which the American public +delights. The reader enjoys the humor due to situation, hyperbole, +satire, and astounding verbal liberties to which the writer is +given; but he enjoys even more the sharp surprise that awaits him +in the plot. He has prepared himself for a certain conclusion and +finds himself entirely in the wrong. Nevertheless, he admits that +the ending is not illogical nor out of harmony with the general +tone. Bill and Sam subscribe themselves "Two Desperate Men," but +they are so characterized as to prepare us for their surrender of +the boy on the father's own terms. + +It is interesting to know that O. Henry himself put slight value +upon local color. "People say that I know New York well!" he says. +"But change Twenty-third Street to Main Street, rub out the +Flatiron Building and put in the Town Hall. Then the story will +fit just as truly elsewhere. At least, I hope that is the case +with what I write. So long as your story is true to life, the mere +change of local color will set it in the East, West, South, or +North. The characters in 'The Arabian Nights' parade up and down +Broadway at midday, or Main Street in Dallas, Texas." + + + + +THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF + +[Footnote: From "Whirligigs," by O. Henry. Copyright, 1910, by +Doubleday, Page & Company. Reprinted by special permission of +Doubleday, Page & Company.] + + +It looked like a good thing: but wait till I tell you. We were +down South, In Alabama--Bill Driscoll and myself--when this +kidnapping idea struck us. It was, as Bill afterward expressed it, +"during a moment of temporary mental apparition"; but we didn't +find that out till later. + +There was a town down there, as flat as a flannel-cake, and called +Summit, of course. It contained inhabitants of as undeleterious an +self-satisfied a class of peasantry as ever clustered around a +Maypole. + +Bill and me had a joint capital of about six hundred dollars, and +we needed just two thousand dollars more to pull off a fraudulent +town-lot scheme in Western Illinois with. We talked it over on the +front steps of the hotel. Philoprogenitiveness, says we, is strong +in semi-rural communities; therefore, and for other reasons, a +kidnapping project ought to do better there than in the radius of +newspapers that send reporters out in plain clothes to stir up +talk about such things. We knew that Summit couldn't get after us +with anything stronger than constables and, maybe, some +lackadaisical blood-hounds and a diatribe or two in the Weekly +Farmers' Budget. So, it looked good. + +We selected for our victim the only child of a prominent citizen +named Ebenezer Dorset. The father was respectable and tight, a +mortgage fancier and a stern, upright collection-plate passer and +forecloser. The kid was a boy of ten, with bas-relief freckles, +and hair the color of the cover of the magazine you buy at the +news-stand when you want to catch a train. Bill and me figured +that Ebenezer would melt down for a ransom of two thousand dollars +to a cent. But wait till I tell you. + +About two miles from Summit was a little mountain, covered with a +dense cedar brake. On the rear elevation of this mountain was a +cave. There we stored provisions. + +One evening after sundown, we drove in a buggy past old Dorset's +house. The kid was in the street, throwing rocks at a kitten on +the opposite fence. + +"Hey, little boy!" says Bill, "would you like to have a bag of +candy and a nice ride?" + +The boy catches Bill neatly in the eye with a piece of brick. + +"That will cost the old man an extra five hundred dollars," says +Bill, climbing over the wheel. + +That boy put up a fight like a welter-weight cinnamon bear; but, +at last, we got him down in the bottom of the buggy and drove +away. We took him up to the cave, and I hitched the horse in the +cedar brake. After dark I drove the buggy to the little village, +three miles away, where we had hired it, and walked back to the +mountain. + +Bill was pasting court-plaster over the scratches and bruises on +his features. There was a fire burning behind the big rock at the +entrance of the cave, and the boy was watching a pot of boiling +coffee, with two buzzard tail-feathers stuck in his red hair. He +points a stick at me when I come up, and says: + +"Ha! cursed paleface, do you dare to enter the camp of Red Chief, +the terror of the plains?" + +"He's all right now," says Bill, rolling up his trousers and +examining some bruises on his shins. "We're playing Indian. We're +making Buffalo Bill's show look like magic-lantern views of +Palestine in the town hall. I'm Old Hank, the Trapper, Red Chief's +captive, and I'm to be scalped at daybreak. By Geronimo! that kid +can kick hard." + +Yes, sir, that boy seemed to be having the time of his life. The +fun of camping out in a cave had made him forget that he was a +captive himself. He immediately christened me Snake-eye, the Spy, +and announced that, when his braves returned from the warpath, I +was to be broiled at the stake at the rising of the sun. + +Then we had supper; and he filled his mouth full of bacon and +bread and gravy, and began to talk. He made a during-dinner speech +something like this: + +"I like this fine. I never camped out before; but I had a pet +'possum once, and I was nine last birthday. I hate to go to +school. Rats ate up sixteen of Jimmy Talbot's aunt's speckled +hen's eggs. Are there any real Indians in these woods? I want some +more gravy. Does the trees moving make the wind blow? We had five +puppies. What makes your nose so red, Hank? My father has lots of +money. Are the stars hot? I whipped Ed Walker twice, Saturday. I +don't like girls. You dassent catch toads unless with a string. Do +oxen make any noise? Why are oranges round? Have you got beds to +sleep on in this cave? Amos Murray has got six toes. A parrot can +talk, but a monkey or a fish can't. How many does it take to make +twelve?" + +Every few minutes he would remember that he was a pesky redskin, +and pick up his stick rifle and tiptoe to the mouth of the cave to +rubber for the scouts of the hated paleface. Now and then he would +let out a war-whoop that made Old Hank the Trapper, shiver. That +boy had Bill terrorized from the start. + +"Red Chief," says I to the kid, "would you like to go home?" + +"Aw, what for?" says he. "I don't have any fun at home. I hate to +go to school. I like to camp out. You won't take me back home +again, Snake-eye, will you?" + +"Not right away," says I. "We'll stay here in the cave a while." + +"All right!" says he. "That'll be fine. I never had such fun in +all my life." + +We went to bed about eleven o'clock. We spread down some wide +blankets and quilts and put Red Chief between us. We weren't +afraid he'd run away. He kept us awake for three hours, jumping up +and reaching for his rifle and screeching: "Hist! pard," in mine +and Bill's ears, as the fancied crackle of a twig or the rustle of +a leaf revealed to his young imagination the stealthy approach of +the outlaw band. At last, I fell into a troubled sleep, and +dreamed that I had been kidnapped and chained to a tree by a +ferocious pirate with red hair. + +Just at daybreak, I was awakened by a series of awful screams from +Bill. They weren't yells, or howls, or shouts, or whoops, or +yawps, such as you'd expect from a manly set of vocal organs--they +were simply indecent, terrifying, humiliating screams, such as +women emit when they see ghosts or caterpillars. It's an awful +thing to hear a strong, desperate, fat man scream incontinently in +a cave at daybreak. + +I jumped up to see what the matter was. Red Chief was sitting on +Bill's chest, with one hand twined in Bill's hair. In the other he +had the sharp case-knife we used for slicing bacon; and he was +industriously and realistically trying to take Bill's scalp, +according to the sentence that had been pronounced upon him the +evening before. + +I got the knife away from the kid and made him lie down again. +But, from that moment, Bill's spirit was broken. He laid down on +his side of the bed, but he never closed an eye again in sleep as +long as that boy was with us. I dozed off for a while, but along +toward sun-up I remembered that Red Chief had said I was to be +burned at the stake at the rising of the sun. I wasn't nervous or +afraid; but I sat up and lit my pipe and leaned against a rock. + +"What you getting up so soon for, Sam?" asked Bill. + +"Me?" says I. "Oh, I got a kind of a pain in my shoulder. I +thought sitting up would rest it." + +"You're a liar!" says Bill. "You're afraid. You was to be burned +at sunrise, and you was afraid he'd do it. And he would, too, if +he could find a match. Ain't it awful, Sam? Do you think anybody +will pay out money to get a little imp like that back home?" + +"Sure," said I. "A rowdy kid like that is just the kind that +parents dote on. Now, you and the Chief get up and cook breakfast, +while I go up on the top of this mountain and reconnoitre." + +I went up on the peak of the little mountain and ran my eye over +the contiguous vicinity. Over toward Summit I expected to see the +sturdy yeomanry of the village armed with scythes and pitchforks +beating the country-side for the dastardly kidnappers. But what I +saw was a peaceful landscape dotted with one man ploughing with a +dun mule. Nobody was dragging the creek; no couriers dashed hither +and yon, bringing tidings of no news to the distracted parents. +There was a sylvan attitude of somnolent sleepiness pervading that +section of the external outward surface of Alabama that lay +exposed to my view. "Perhaps," says I to myself, "it has not yet +been discovered that the wolves have borne away the tender lambkin +from the fold. Heaven help the wolves!" says I, and I went down +the mountain to breakfast. + +When I got to the cave I found Bill backed up against the side of +it, breathing hard, and the boy threatening to smash him with a +rock half as big as a cocoanut. + +"He put a red-hot boiled potato down my back," explained Bill, +"and then mashed it with his foot; and I boxed his ears. Have you +got a gun about you, Sam?" + +I took the rock away from the boy and kind of patched up the +argument. "I'll fix you," says the kid to Bill. "No man ever yet +struck the Red Chief but what he got paid for it. You better +beware!" + +After breakfast the kid takes a piece of leather with strings +wrapped around it out of his pocket and goes outside the cave +unwinding it. + +"What's he up to now?" says Bill, anxiously. "You don't think +he'll run away, do you, Sam?" + +"No fear of it," says I. "He don't seem to be much of a home body. +But we've got to fix up some plan about the ransom. There don't +seem to be much excitement around Summit on account of his +disappearance; but maybe they haven't realized yet that he's gone. +His folks may think he's spending the night with Aunt Jane or one +of the neighbors. Anyhow, he'll be missed to-day. To-night we must +get a message to his father demanding the two thousand dollars for +his return." + +Just then we heard a kind of war-whoop, such as David might have +emitted when he knocked out the champion Goliath. It was a sling +that Red Chief had pulled out of his pocket, and he was whirling +it around his head. + +I dodged, and heard a heavy thud and a kind of a sigh from Bill, +like a horse gives out when you take his saddle off. A niggerhead +rock the size of an egg had caught Bill just behind his left ear. +He loosened himself all over and fell in the fire across the +frying pan of hot water for washing the dishes. I dragged him out +and poured cold water on his head for half an hour. + +By and by, Bill sits up and feels behind his ear and says: "Sam, +do you know who my favorite Biblical character is?" + +"Take it easy," says I. "You'll come to your senses presently." + +"King Herod," says he. "You won't go away and leave me here alone, +will you, Sam?" + +I went out and caught that boy and shook him until his freckles +rattled. + +"If you don't behave," says I, "I'll take you straight home. Now, +are you going to be good, or not?" + +"I was only funning," says he sullenly. "I didn't mean to hurt Old +Hank. But what did he hit me for? I'll behave, Snake-eye, if you +won't send me home, and if you'll let me play the Black Scout to- +day." + +"I don't know the game," says I. "That's for you and Mr. Bill to +decide. He's your playmate for the day. I'm going away for a +while, on business. Now, you come in and make friends with him and +say you are sorry for hurting him, or home you go, at once." + +I made him and Bill shake hands, and then I took Bill aside and +told him I was going to Poplar Cove, a little village three miles +from the cave, and find out what I could about how the kidnapping +had been regarded in Summit. Also, I thought it best to send a +peremptory letter to old man Dorset that day, demanding the ransom +and dictating how it should be paid. + +"You know, Sam," says Bill, "I've stood by you without batting an +eye in earthquakes, fire, and flood--in poker games, dynamite +outrages, police raids, train robberies, and cyclones. I never +lost my nerve yet till we kidnapped that two-legged skyrocket of a +kid. He's got me going. You won't leave me long with him, will +you, Sam?" + +"I'll be back some time this afternoon," says I. "You must keep +the boy amused and quiet till I return. And now we'll write the +letter to old Dorset." + +Bill and I got paper and pencil and worked on the letter while Red +Chief, with a blanket wrapped around him, strutted up and down, +guarding the mouth of the cave. Bill begged me tearfully to make +the ransom fifteen hundred dollars instead of two thousand. "I +ain't attempting," says he, "to decry the celebrated moral aspect +of parental affection, but we're dealing with humans, and it ain't +human for anybody to give up two thousand dollars for that forty- +pound chunk of freckled wildcat. I'm willing to take a chance at +fifteen hundred dollars. You can charge the difference up to me." + +So, to relieve Bill, I acceded, and we collaborated a letter that +ran this way: + +"Ebenezer Dorset, Esq.: + +"We have your boy concealed in a place far from Summit. It is +useless for you or the most skilful detectives to attempt to find +him. Absolutely, the only terms on which you can have him restored +to you are these: We demand fifteen hundred dollars in large bills +for his return; the money to be left at midnight to-night at the +same spot and in the same box as your reply--as hereinafter +described. If you agree to these terms, send your answer in +writing by a solitary messenger to-night at half-past eight +o'clock. After crossing Owl Creek, on the road to Poplar Cove, +there are three large trees about a hundred yards apart, close to +the fence of the wheat field on the right-hand side. At the bottom +of the fence-post, opposite the third tree, will be found a small +paste-board box. + +"The messenger will place the answer in this box and return +immediately to Summit. + +"If you attempt any treachery or fail to comply with our demand as +stated, you will never see your boy again. + +"If you pay the money as demanded, he will be returned to you safe +and well within three hours. These terms are final, and if you do +not accede to them no further communication will be attempted. + + "TWO DESPERATE MEN" + +I addressed this letter to Dorset, and put it in my pocket. As I +was about to start, the kid comes up to me and says: + +"Aw, Snake-eye, you said I could play the Black Scout while you +was gone." + +"Play it, of course," says I. "Mr. Bill will play with you. What +kind of a game is it?" + +"I'm the Black Scout," says Red Chief, "and I have to ride to the +stockade to warn the settlers that the Indians are coming. I'm +tired of playing Indian myself. I want to be the Black Scout." + +"All right," says I. "It sounds harmless to me. I guess Mr. Bill +will help you foil the pesky savages." + +"What am I to do?" asks Bill, looking at the kid suspiciously. + +"You are the hoss," says Black Scout. "Get down on your hands and +knees. How can I ride to the stockade without a hoss?" + +"You'd better keep him interested," said I, "till we get the +scheme going. Loosen up." + +Bill gets down on his all fours, and a look comes in his eye like +a rabbit's when you catch it in a trap. + +"How far is it to the stockade, kid?" he asks, in a husky manner +of voice. + +"Ninety miles," says the Black Scout. "And you have to hump +yourself to get there on time. Whoa, now!" + +The Black Scout jumps on Bill's back and digs his heels in his +side. + +"For Heaven's sake," says Bill, "hurry back, Sam, as soon as you +can. I wish we hadn't made the ransom more than a thousand. Say, +you quit kicking me or I'll get up and warm you good." + +I walked over to Poplar Cove and sat around the post-office and +store, talking with the chawbacons that came in to trade. One +whiskerando says that he hears Summit is all upset on account of +Elder Ebenezer Dorset's boy having been lost or stolen. That was +all I wanted to know. I bought some smoking tobacco, referred +casually to the price of black-eyed peas, posted my letter +surreptitiously, and came away. The postmaster said the mail- +carrier would come by in an hour to take the mail on to Summit. + +When I got back to the cave Bill and the boy were not to be found. +I explored the vicinity of the cave, and risked a yodel or two, +but there was no response. + +So I lighted my pipe and sat down on a mossy bank to await +developments. + +In about half an hour I heard the bushes rustle, and Bill wabbled +out into the little glade in front of the cave. Behind him was the +kid, stepping softly like a scout, with a broad grin on his face. +Bill stopped, took off his hat, and wiped his face with a red +handkerchief. The kid stopped about eight feet behind him. + +"Sam," says Bill, "I suppose you'll think I'm a renegade, but I +couldn't help it. I'm a grown person with masculine proclivities +and habits of self-defence, but there is a time when all systems +of egotism and predominance fail. The boy is gone. I have sent him +home. All is off. There was martyrs in old times," goes on Bill, +"that suffered death rather than give up the particular graft they +enjoyed. None of 'em ever was subjugated to such supernatural +tortures as I have been. I tried to be faithful to our articles of +depredation; but there came a limit." + +"What's the trouble, Bill?" I asks him. + +"I was rode," says Bill, "the ninety miles to the stockade, not +barring an inch. Then, when the settlers was rescued, I was given +oats. Sand ain't a palatable substitute. And then, for an hour I +had to try to explain to him why there was nothin' in holes, how a +road can run both ways, and what makes the grass green. I tell +you, Sam, a human can only stand so much. I takes him by the neck +of his clothes and drags him down the mountain. On the way he +kicks my legs black-and-blue from the knees down; and I've got to +have two or three bites on my thumb and hand cauterized. + +"But he's gone"--continues Bill--"gone home. I showed him the road +to Summit and kicked him about eight feet nearer there at one kick. +I'm sorry we lose the ransom; but it was either that or Bill Driscoll +to the madhouse." + +Bill is puffing and blowing, but there is a look of ineffable +peace and growing content on his rose-pink features. + +"Bill," says I, "there isn't any heart disease in your family, is +there?" + +"No," says Bill, "nothing chronic except malaria and accidents. +Why?" + +"Then you might turn around," says I, "and have a look behind +you." + +Bill turns and sees the boy, and loses his complexion and sits +down plump on the ground and begins to pluck aimlessly at grass +and little sticks. For an hour I was afraid for his mind. And then +I told him that my scheme was to put the whole job through +immediately and that we would get the ransom and be off with it by +midnight if old Dorset fell in with our proposition. So Bill +braced up enough to give the kid a weak sort of a smile and a +promise to play the Russian in a Japanese war with him as soon as +he felt a little better. + +I had a scheme for collecting that ransom without danger of being +caught by counterplots that ought to commend itself to +professional kidnappers. The tree under which the answer was to be +left--and the money later on--was close to the road fence with +big, bare fields on all sides. If a gang of constables should be +watching for any one to come for the note, they could see him a +long way off crossing the fields or in the road. But no, sirree! +At half-past eight I was up in that tree as well hidden as a tree +toad, waiting for the messenger to arrive. + +Exactly on time, a half-grown boy rides up the road on a bicycle, +locates the pasteboard box at the foot of the fence-post, slips a +folded piece of paper into it, and pedals away again back toward +Summit. + +I waited an hour and then concluded the thing was square. I slid +down the tree, got the note, slipped along the fence till I struck +the woods, and was back at the cave in another half an hour. I +opened the note, got near the lantern, and read it to Bill. It was +written with a pen in a crabbed hand, and the sum and substance of +it was this: + +"Two Desperate Men. + +"Gentlemen: I received your letter to-day by post, in regard to +the ransom you ask for the return of my son. I think you are a +little high in your demands, and I hereby make you a counter- +proposition, which I am inclined to believe you will accept. You +bring Johnny home and pay me two hundred and fifty dollars in +cash, and I agree to take him off your hands. You had better come +at night, for the neighbors believe he is lost, and I couldn't be +responsible for what they would do to anybody they saw bringing +him back. + Very respectfully, + "EBENEZER DORSET." + +"Great pirates of Penzance!" says I; "of all the impudent----" + +But I glanced at Bill, and hesitated. He had the most appealing +look in his eyes I ever saw on the face of a dumb or a talking +brute. + +"Sam," says he, "what's two hundred and fifty dollars, after all? +We've got the money. One more night of this kid will send me to a +bed in Bedlam. Besides being a thorough gentleman, I think Mr. +Dorset is a spendthrift for making us such a liberal offer. You +ain't going to let the chance go, are you?" + +"Tell you the truth, Bill," says I, "this little he ewe lamb has +somewhat got on my nerves too. We'll take him home, pay the +ransom, and make our get-away." + +We took him home that night. We got him to go by telling him that +his father had bought a silver-mounted rifle and a pair of +moccasins for him, and we were going to hunt bears the next day. + +It was just twelve o 'clock when we knocked at Ebenezer's front +door. Just at the moment when I should have been abstracting the +fifteen hundred dollars from the box under the tree, according to +the original proposition, Bill was counting out two hundred and +fifty dollars into Dorset's hand. + +When the kid found out we were going to leave him at home he +started up a howl like a calliope and fastened himself as tight as +a leech to Bill's leg. His father peeled him away gradually, like +a porous plaster. + +"How long can you hold him?" asks Bill. + +"I'm not as strong as I used to be," says old Dorset, "but I think +I can promise you ten minutes." + +"Enough," says Bill. "In ten minutes I shall cross the Central, +Southern, and Middle Western States, and be legging it trippingly +for the Canadian border." + +And, as dark as it was, and as fat as Bill was, and as good a +runner as I am, he was a good mile and a half out of Summit before +I could catch up with him. + + + + + + +THE FRESHMAN FULL-BACK + +BY + +RALPH D. PAINE + +The chief interest in "The Freshman Full-Back" is that of +character. The action has real dramatic quality and is staged with +the local color of a college contest. But the great value of the +action is ethical, for it shows that one may "wrest victory from +defeat" and that it is a shameful thing to be a "coward and a +quitter." + + + + +THE FRESHMAN FULL-BACK + +[Footnote: From "College Years," by Ralph D. Paine. Copyright, +1909, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +The boyish night city editor glanced along the copy-readers' table +and petulantly exclaimed: + +"Isn't that spread head ready yet, Mr. Seeley? It goes on the +front page and we are holding open for it. Whew, but you are slow. +You ought to be holding down a job on a quarterly review." + +A portly man of middle age dropped his pencil and turned heavily +in his chair to face the source of this public humiliation. An +angry flush overspread his face and he chewed at a grayish +mustache as if fighting down rebellion. His comrades at the long +table had looked up from their work and were eyeing the oldest +copy-reader with sympathetic uneasiness while they hoped that he +would be able to hold himself in hand. The night city editor felt +the tension of this brief tableau and awaited the threatened +outbreak with a nervous smile. But Seeley jerked his green +eyeshade so low that his face was partly in eclipse, and wheeled +round to resume his task with a catch of the breath and a tone of +surrender in his reply. + +"The head will be ready in five minutes, sir. The last pages of +the story are just coming in." + +A much younger man, at the farther end of the table, whispered to +his neighbor: + +"That's cheap and nasty, to call down old man Seeley as if he were +a cub reporter. He may have lost his grip, but he deserves decent +treatment for what he has been. Managing editor of this very +sheet, London correspondent before that, and the crack man of the +staff when most of the rest of us were in short breeches. And now +Henry Harding Seeley isn't any too sure of keeping his job on the +copy-desk." + +"That's what the New York newspaper game can do to you if you +stick at it too long," murmured the other. "Back to the farm for +mine." + +It was long after midnight when these two put on their coats and +bade the city editor's desk a perfunctory "Good-night." + +They left Henry Harding Seeley still slumped in his chair, writing +with dogged industry. + +"He's dead tired, you can see that," commented one of the pair as +they headed for Broadway, "but, as usual, he is grinding out stuff +for the Sunday sheet after hours. He must need the extra coin +mighty bad. I came back for my overcoat at four the other morning, +after the poker game, and he was still pegging away just like +that." + +Other belated editors and reporters of the Chronicle staff drifted +toward the elevator, until the gray-haired copy-reader was left +alone in the city room as if marooned. Writing as steadily as if +he were a machine warranted to turn out so many words an hour, +Seeley urged his pencil until the last page was finished. Then he +read and corrected the "story," slipped it through a slit in a +door marked "Sunday Editor," and trudged out, while the tower +clock was striking three. + +Instead of seeking the chop-house, wherein the vivacious and +tireless youth of the staff were wont to linger over supper, he +turned into a side street and betook himself to a small cafe as +yet unfrequented by the night-owls of journalism. Seeley was a +beaten man, and he preferred to nurse his wounds in a morbid +isolation. His gait and aspect were those of one who was stolidly +struggling on the defensive, as if hostile circumstances had +driven him into a corner where he was making his last stand. + +Through the years of his indomitable youth as a reporter of rare +ability and resourcefulness, he had never spared himself. Burning +the candle at both ends, with a vitality which had seemed +inexhaustible, he had won step after step of promotion until, at +forty, he was made managing editor of that huge and hard-driven +organization, the New York Chronicle. For five years of racking +responsibility, Henry Harding Seeley had been able to maintain the +pace demanded of his position. + +Then came an error of judgment--a midnight decision demanded of a +fagged mind--and his 0.K. was scrawled upon the first sheet of a +story of embezzlement in Wall Street. By an incredible blunder the +name of the fugitive cashier was coupled with that of the wrong +bank. Publication of the Chronicle story started a terrific run on +this innocent institution, which won its libel suit against the +newspaper in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. + +The managing editor, two reporters, and the copy-reader who had +handled the fatal manuscript, were swept out of the building by +one cyclonic order from the owner thereof. Henry Seeley accepted +his indirect responsibility for the disaster in grim, manly +fashion, and straightway sought another berth befitting his +journalistic station. But his one costly slip was more than a +nine-days' scandal along Park Row, and other canny proprietors +were afraid that he might hit them in the very vital regions of +their pockets. Worse than this, his confidence in himself had +suffered mortal damage. The wear and tear of his earlier years had +left him with little reserve power, and he went to pieces in the +face of adverse fortune. + +"Worked out at forty-five," was the verdict of his friends, and +they began to pity him. + +The will to succeed had been broken, but Seeley might have rallied +had not his wife died during the ebb-tide of his affairs. She had +walked hand in hand with him since his early twenties, her faith +in him had been his mainstay, and his happiness in her complete +and beautiful. Bereft of her when he stood most in need of her, he +seemed to have no more fight in him, and, drifting from one +newspaper office to another, he finally eddied into his old "shop" +as a drudging copy-reader and an object of sympathy to a younger +generation. + +There was one son, strong, bright, eager, and by dint of driving +his eternally wearied brain overtime, the father had been able to +send him to Yale, his own alma mater. More or less pious deception +had led young Ernest Seeley to believe that his father had +regained much of his old-time prestige with the Chronicle and that +he had a hand in guiding its editorial destinies. The lad was a +Freshman, tremendously absorbed in the activities of the autumn +term, and his father was content that he should be so hedged about +by the interests of the campus world as to have small time or +thought for the grizzled, taciturn toiler in New York. + +This was the kind of man that trudged heavily into the little +German cafe of an early morning after his long night's slavery at +the copy-desk. His mind, embittered and sensitive to slights like +a raw nerve, was brooding over the open taunt of the night city +editor, who had been an office boy under him in the years gone by. +From force of habit he seated himself at a table in the rear of +the room, shunning the chance of having to face an acquaintance. +Unfolding a copy of the city edition, which had been laid on his +desk damp from the press-room, Seeley scanned the front page with +scowling uneasiness, as if fearing to find some blunder of his own +handiwork. Then he turned to the sporting page and began to read +the football news. + +His son Ernest had been playing as a substitute with the +university eleven, an achievement which stirred the father's pride +without moving his enthusiasm. And the boy, chilled by his +father's indifference, had said little about it during his +infrequent visits to New York. But now the elder Seeley sat erect, +and his stolid countenance was almost animated as he read, under a +New Haven date line: + +"The Yale confidence of winning the game with Princeton to-morrow +has been shattered, and gloom enshrouds the camp of the Elis to- +night. Collins, the great full-back, who has been the key-stone of +Yale's offensive game, was taken to the infirmary late this +afternoon. He complained of feeling ill after the signal practice +yesterday; fever developed overnight, and the consulting +physicians decided that he must be operated on for appendicitis +without delay. His place in the Princeton game will be filled by +Ernest Seeley, the Freshman, who has been playing a phenomenal +game in the back-field, but who is so lacking in experience that +the coaches are all at sea to-night. The loss of Collins has swung +the betting around to even money instead of 5 to 3 on Yale." + +The elder Seeley wiped his glasses as if not sure that he had read +aright. + +Ernest had seemed to him no more than a sturdy infant and here he +was, on the eve of a championship football battle, picked to fight +for the "old blue." The father's career at Yale had been a most +honorable one. He, too, had played on the eleven and had helped to +win two desperate contests against Princeton. But all this +belonged to a part of his life which was dead and done for. He had +not achieved in after years what Yale expected of him, and his +record there was with his buried memories. + +Supper was forgotten while Henry Seeley wondered whether he really +wanted to go to New Haven to see his boy play. Many of his old +friends and classmates would be there and he did not wish to meet +them. + +And it stung him to the quick as he reflected: + +"I should be very happy to see him win, but--but to see him +whipped! I couldn't brace and comfort him. And supposing it breaks +his heart to be whipped as it has broken mine? No, I won't let +myself think that. I'm a poor Yale man and a worse father, but I +couldn't stand going up there to-day." + +Even more humiliating was the thought that he would shrink from +asking leave of the city editor. Saturday was not his "day off," +and he so greatly hated to ask favors at the office, that the +possibility of being rebuffed was more than he was willing to +face. + +Into his unhappy meditations broke a boisterous hail: + +"Diogenes Seeley, as I live. Why, you old rascal, I thought you +were dead or something. Glad I didn't get foolish and go to bed. +Here, waiter, get busy." + +Seeley was startled, and he looked much more distressed than +rejoiced as he lumbered from his table to grasp the outstretched +hand of a classmate. The opera-hat of this Mr. Richard Giddings +was cocked at a rakish angle, his blue eye twinkled good cheer and +youthful hilarity, and his aspect was utterly care-free. + +"How are you, Dick?" said Seeley, with an unusual smile which +singularly brightened his face. "You don't look a day older than +when I last saw you. Still cutting coupons for a living?" + +"Oh, money is the least of my worries," gayly rattled Mr. +Giddings. "Been doing the heavy society act to-night, and on my +way home found I needed some sauerkraut and beer to tone up my +jaded system. By Jove, Harry, you're as gray as a badger. This +newspaper game must be bad for the nerves. Lots of fellows have +asked me about you. Never see you at the University Club, nobody +sees you anywhere. Remarkable how a man can lose himself right +here in New York. Still running the Chronicle, I suppose." + +"I'm still in the old shop, Dick," replied Seeley, glad to be rid +of this awkward question. "But I work nearly all night and sleep +most of the day, and am like a cog in a big machine that never +stops grinding." + +"Shouldn't do it. Wears a man out," and Mr. Giddings sagely nodded +his head. "Course you are going up to the game to-day. Come along +with me. Special car with a big bunch of your old pals inside. +They'll be tickled to death to find I've dug you out of your hole. +Hello! Is that this morning's paper? Let me look at the sporting +page. Great team at New Haven, they tell me. What's the latest +odds? I put up a thousand at five to three last week and am +looking for some more easy money." + +The alert eye of the volatile Richard Giddings swept down the New +Haven dispatch like lightning. + +With a grievous outcry he smote the table and shouted: + +"Collins out of the game? Great Scott, Harry, that's awful news. +And a green Freshman going to fill his shoes at the last minute. I +feel like weeping, honest I do. Who the deuce is this Seeley? Any +kin of yours? I suppose not or you would have bellowed it at me +before this." + +"He is my only boy, Dick," and the father held up his head with a +shadow of his old manner. "I didn't know he had the ghost of a +show to make the team until I saw this dispatch." + +"Then, of course, you are coming up with me," roared Mr. Giddings. +"I hope he's a chip of the old block. If he has your sand they +can't stop him. Jumping Jupiter, they couldn't have stopped you +with an axe when you were playing guard in our time, Harry. I feel +better already to know that it is your kid going in at full-back +to-day." + +"No, I'm not going up, Dick," said Seeley slowly. "For one thing, +it is too short notice for me to break away from the office, and +I--I haven't the nerve to watch the boy go into the game. I'm not +feeling very fit." + +"Stuff and nonsense, you need a brain cure," vociferated Richard +Giddings. "You, an old Yale guard, with a pup on the team, and he +a Freshman at that! Throw out your chest, man; tell the office to +go to the devil--where all newspapers belong--and meet me at the +station at ten o'clock sharp. You talk and look like the oldest +living grad with one foot in the grave." + +Seeley flushed and bit his lip. His dulled realization of what +Yale had been to him was quickened by this tormenting comrade of +the brave days of old, but he could not be shaken from his +attitude of morbid self-effacement. + +"No, Dick, it's no use," he returned with a tremulous smile. "You +can't budge me. But give my love to the crowd and tell them to +cheer for that youngster of mine until they're blue in the face." + +Mr. Richard Giddings eyed him quizzically, and surmised that +something or other was gravely wrong with his grizzled classmate. +But Seeley offered no more explanations and the vivacious intruder +fell to his task of demolishing sauerkraut with great gusto, after +which he nimbly vanished into a cruising hansom with a sense of +having been rebuffed. + +Seeley watched him depart at great speed and then plodded toward +his up-town lodgings. His sleep was distressed with unhappy +dreams, and during a wakeful interval he heard a knock at his +sitting-room door. + +An office boy from the Chronicle editorial rooms gave him a note +and waited for an answer. + +Seeley recognized the handwriting of the managing editor and was +worried, for he was always expecting the worst to happen. He +sighed with relieved surprise as he read: + +"MY DEAR MR. SEELEY: + +"Please go to New Haven as soon as possible and do a couple of +columns of descriptive introduction of the Yale-Princeton game. +The sporting department will cover the technical story, but a big +steamboat collision has just happened in North River, two or three +hundred drowned and so on, and I need every man in the shop. As an +old Yale player I am sure I can depend on you for a good story, +and I know you used to do this kind of stuff in fine style." + +Seeley fished his watch from under a pillow. It was after ten +o'clock and the game would begin at two. While he hurried into his +clothes he was conscious of a distinct thrill of excited interest +akin to his old-time joy in the day's work. Could he "do this kind +of stuff in fine style"? Why, before his brain had begun to be +always tired, when he was the star reporter of the Chronicle, his +football introductions had been classics in Park Row. If there was +a spark of the old fire left in him he would try to strike it out, +and for the moment he forgot the burden of inertia which had so +long crushed him. + +"But I don't want to run into Dick Giddings and his crowd," he +muttered as he sought his hat and overcoat. "And I'll be up in the +press-box away from the mob of old grads. Perhaps my luck has +turned." + +When Henry Seeley reached the Yale field the eleven had gone to +the dressing-rooms in the training house, and he hovered on the +edge of the flooding crowds, fairly yearning for a glimpse of the +Freshman full-back and a farewell grasp of his hand. The habitual +dread lest the son find cause to be ashamed of his father had been +shoved into the background by a stronger, more natural emotion. +But he well knew that he ought not to invade the training quarters +in these last crucial moments. Ernest must not be distraught by a +feather's weight of any other interest than the task in hand. The +coaches would be delivering their final words of instruction and +the old Yale guard could picture to himself the tense absorption +of the scene. Like one coming out of a dream, the past was +returning to him in vivid, heart-stirring glimpses. Reluctantly he +sought his place in the press-box high above the vast +amphitheatre. + +The preliminary spectacle was movingly familiar: the rippling +banks of color which rose on all sides to frame the long carpet of +chalked turf; the clamorous outbursts of cheering when an eddy of +Yale or Princeton undergraduates swirled and tossed at command of +the dancing dervish of a leader at the edge of the field below; +the bright, buoyant aspect of the multitude as viewed en masse. +Seeley leaned against the railing of his lofty perch and gazed at +this pageant until a sporting editor, long in harness, nudged his +elbow and said: + +"Hello! I haven't seen you at a game in a dozen years. Doing the +story or just working the press-badge graft? That namesake of +yours will be meat for the Tigers, I'm afraid. Glad he doesn't +belong to you, aren't you?" + +Seeley stared at him like a man in a trance and replied evasively: + +"He may be good enough. It all depends on his sand and nerve. Yes, +I am doing the story for a change. Have you the final line-up?" + +"Princeton is playing all her regular men," said the sporting +editor, giving Seeley his note-book. "The only Yale change is at +full-back--and that's a catastrophe." + +Seeley copied the lists for reference and his pencil was not +steady when he came to "Full-back, Ernest T. Seeley." But he +pulled his thoughts away from the eleven and began to jot down +notes of the passing incidents which might serve to weave into the +fabric of his description. The unwonted stimulus aroused his +talent as if it were not dead but dormant. The scene appealed to +him with almost as much freshness and color as if he were +observing it for the first time. + +A roar of cheering rose from a far corner of the field and ran +swiftly along the Yale side of the amphitheatre, which blossomed +in tossing blue. The Yale eleven scampered into view like colts at +pasture, the substitutes veering toward the benches behind the +side-line. Without more ado the team scattered in formation for +signal practice, paying no heed to the tumult which raged around +and above them. Agile, clean-limbed, splendid in their disciplined +young manhood, the dark blue of their stockings and the white "Y" +gleaming on their sweaters fairly trumpeted their significance to +Henry Seeley. And poised behind the rush-line, wearing his hard- +won university blue, was the lithe figure of the Freshman full- +back, Ernest Seeley. + +The youngster, whose fate it was to be called a "forlorn hope," +looked fragile beside his comrades of the eleven. Although tall +and wiry he was like a greyhound in a company of mastiffs. His +father, looking down at him from so great a height that he could +not read his face, muttered to himself while he dug his nails into +his palms: + +"He is too light for this day's work. But he carries himself like +a thoroughbred." + +The boy and his fellows seemed singularly remote from the shouting +thousands massed so near them. They had become the sole arbiters +of their fate, and their impressive isolation struck Henry Seeley +anew as the most dramatic feature of this magnificent picture. He +must sit idly by and watch his only son battle through the most +momentous hour of his young life, as if he were gazing down from +another planet. + +The staccato cheers of Princeton rocketed along the other side of +the field, and the eleven from Old Nassau ran briskly over the +turf and wheeled into line for a last rehearsal of their machine- +like tactics. Henry Seeley was finding it hard to breathe, just as +it had happened in other days when he was waiting for the "kick- +off" and facing a straining Princeton line. The minutes were like +hours while the officials consulted with the captains in the +centre of the field. Then the two elevens ranged themselves across +the brown turf, there was breathless silence, and a Princeton toe +lifted the ball far down toward the Yale goal. It was the young +full-back who waited to receive the opening kick, while his +comrades thundered toward him to form a flying screen of +interference. But the twisting ball bounded from his too eager +arms, and another Yale back fell on it in time to save it from the +clutches of a meteoric Princeton end. + +"Nervous. Hasn't steadied down yet," exclaimed a reporter behind +Henry Seeley. "But he can't afford to give Princeton any more +chances like that. Her ends are faster than chain lightning." + +The father groaned and wiped the sweat from his eyes. If the team +were afraid of this untried full-back, such a beginning would not +give them confidence. Then the two lines locked and heaved in the +first scrimmage, and a stocky Yale half-back was pulled down in +his tracks. Again the headlong Princeton defence held firm and the +Yale captain gasped, "Second down and three yards to gain." The +Yale interferers sped to circle one end of the line, but they were +spilled this way and that and the runner went down a yard short of +the needed distance. + +The Yale full-back dropped back to punt. Far and true the ball +soared into the Princeton field, and the lithe Freshman had +somewhat redeemed himself. But now, for their own part, the sons +of Old Nassau found themselves unable to make decisive gains +against the Yale defence. Greek met Greek in these early clashes, +and both teams were forced to punt again and again. Trick-plays +were spoiled by alert end-rushers for the blue or the orange and +black, fiercely launched assaults at centre were torn asunder, and +the longer the contest raged up and down the field the more +clearly it was perceived that these ancient rivals were rarely +well matched in point of strength and strategy. + +The Yale coaches were dismayed at this turn of events. They had +hoped to see the ball carried toward the Princeton goal by means +of shrewdly devised teamwork, instead of which the burden of the +game was shifted to one man, the weakest link in the chain, the +Freshman at full-back. He was punting with splendid distance, +getting the ball away when it seemed as if he must be overwhelmed +by the hurtling Tigers. Once or twice, however, a hesitant +nervousness almost wrought quick disaster, and the Yale partisans +watched him with tormenting apprehension. + +The first half of the game was fought into the last few minutes of +play and neither eleven had been able to score. Then luck and +skill combined to force the struggle far down into Yale territory. +Only ten yards more of trampled turf to gain and Princeton would +cross the last white line. The indomitable spirit which had placed +upon the escutcheon of Yale football the figure of a bulldog +rampant, rallied to meet this crisis, and the hard-pressed line +held staunch and won possession of the ball on downs. Back to the +very shadow of his own goal-posts the Yale full-back ran to punt +the ball out of the danger zone. It shot fairly into his grasp +from a faultless pass, but his fingers juggled the slippery +leather as if it were bewitched. For a frantic, awful instant he +fumbled with the ball and wildly dived after it as it caromed off +to one side, bounded crazily, and rolled beyond his reach. + +The Princeton quarter-back had darted through the line like a +bullet. Without slackening speed or veering from his course, he +scooped up the ball as he fled toward the Yale goal-line. It was +done and over within a twinkling, and while the Yale team +stampeded helplessly in his wake the devastating hero was circling +behind the goal-posts where he flopped to earth, the precious ball +apparently embedded in his stomach. It was a Princeton touchdown +fairly won, but made possible by the tragic blunder of one Yale +man. While ten thousand Princeton throats were barking their +jubilation, as many more loyal friends of Yale sat sad-eyed and +sullen and glowered their unspeakable displeasure at the slim +figure of the full-back as he limped into line to face the try for +goal. + +The goal was not scored, however, and the fateful tally stood five +to nothing when the first half ended, with the blue banners +drooping disconsolate. + +Henry Seeley pulled his slouch hat over his eyes and sat with +hunched shoulders staring at the Yale team as it left the field +for the intermission. He had forgotten about his story of the +game. The old spectre of failure obsessed him. It was already +haunting the pathway of his boy. Was he also to be beaten by one +colossal blunder? Henry Seeley felt that Ernest's whole career +hung upon his behavior in the second half. How would the lad "take +his medicine"? Would it break his heart or rouse him to fight more +valiantly? As if the father had been thinking aloud, the sporting +editor at his side observed: + +"He may win the game yet. I like the looks of that boy. But he did +make a hideous mess of it, didn't he? I hope he hasn't got a +streak of yellow in him." + +Henry Seeley turned on his neighbor with a savage scowl and could +not hold back the quivering retort: + +"He belongs to me, I want you to understand, and we'll say nothing +about yellow streaks until he has a chance to make good next +half." + +"Whew-w-w, why did you hold it out on me, old man?" gasped the +sporting editor. "No wonder you kicked me black and blue without +knowing it. I hope he is a chip of the old block. I saw you play +here in your last game." + +Seeley grunted something and resumed staring at the field. He was +thinking of the present moment in the training quarters, of the +muddy, weary players sprawled around the head coach, of his wise, +bitter, stinging rebukes and admonitions. Perhaps he would take +Ernest out of the game. But Seeley was confident that the coaches +would give the boy a chance to redeem himself if they believed his +heart was in the right place. Presently the two teams trotted on +the field, not as nimbly as at their first appearance, but with +dogged resolution in their demeanor. Henry Seeley saw his son +glance up at the "cheering sections," as if wondering whether +their welcome was meant to include him. One cheer, at least, was +intended to greet him, for Henry Seeley stood on his chair, waved +his hat, and thundered: + +"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah, for Yale, my boy. Eat 'em alive as your daddy +used to do." + +The men from Princeton had no intention of being devoured in this +summary fashion. They resumed their tireless, whirlwind attack +like giants refreshed, and so harried their Yale foemen that they +were forced to their utmost to ward off another touchdown. This +incessant battering dulled the edges of their offensive tactics, +and they seemed unable to set in motion a consistent series of +advances. But the joy of Princeton was tempered by the knowledge +that this, her dearest enemy, was not beaten until the last play +had been signalled. + +And somehow the Yale machine of muscle, brains, and power began to +find itself when the afternoon shadows were slanting athwart the +arena. With the ball on Princeton's forty-yard line the chosen +sons of Eli began a heroic advance down the field. It was as if +some missing cog had been supplied. "Straight old-fashioned +football" it was, eleven minds and bodies working as one and +animated by a desperate resolve, which carried the Yale team along +for down after down into the heart of Princeton's ground. + +Perhaps because he was fresher than the other backs, perhaps +because the captain knew his man, the ball was given to the Yale +full-back for one swift and battering assault after another. His +slim figure pelted at the rush-line, was overwhelmed in an +avalanche of striped arms and legs, but somehow twisted, wriggled, +dragged itself ahead as if there was no stopping him. The +multitude comprehended that this despised and disgraced Freshman +was working out his own salvation along with that of his comrades. +Once, when the scrimmage was untangled, he was dragged from +beneath a heap of players, unable to regain his feet. He lay on +the grass a huddled heap, blood smearing his forehead. A surgeon +and the trainer doused and bandaged him, and presently he +staggered to his feet and hobbled to his station, rubbing his +hands across his eyes as if dazed. + +When, at length, the stubbornly retreating Princeton line had been +driven deep down into their end of the field, they, too, showed +that they could hold fast in the last extremity. The Yale attack +crumpled against them as if it had struck a stone wall. Young +Seeley seemed to be so crippled and exhausted that he had been +given a respite from the interlocked, hammering onslaught, but at +the third down the panting quarter-back croaked out his signal. +His comrades managed to rip a semblance of an opening for him, he +plunged through, popped clear of the line, fell to his knees, +recovered his footing by a miracle of agility, and lunged onward, +to be brought down within five yards of the coveted goal-posts. + +He had won the right to make the last momentous charge. Swaying in +his tracks, the full-back awaited the summons. Then he dived in +behind the interference for a circuit of the right end. Two +Princeton men broke through as if they had been shot out of +mortars, but the Yale full-back had turned and was ploughing +straight ahead. Pulled down, dragging the tackler who clung to his +waist, he floundered to earth with most of the Princeton team +piled above him. But the ball lay beyond the fateful chalk-line, +the Yale touchdown was won, and the game was tied. + +The captain clapped Seeley on the shoulder, nodded at the ball, +and the full-back limped on to the field to kick the goal or lose +a victory. There were no more signs of nervousness in his bearing. +With grave deliberation he stood waiting for the ball to be placed +in front of the goal-posts. The sun had dropped behind the lofty +grand-stands. The field lay in a kind of wintry twilight. Thirty +thousand men and women gazed in tensest silence at the mud- +stained, battered youth who had become the crowning issue of this +poignant moment. Up in the press-box a thick-set, grayish man dug +his fists in his eyes and could not bear to look at the lonely, +reliant figure down yonder on the quiet field. The father found +courage to take his hands from his face only when a mighty roar of +joy boomed along the Yale side of the amphitheatre, and he saw the +ball drop in a long arc behind the goal-posts. The kick had won +the game for Yale. + +Once clear of the crowds, Henry Seeley hurried toward the training +quarters. His head was up, his shoulders squared, and he walked +with the free stride of an athlete. Mr. Richard Giddings danced +madly across to him: + +"Afraid to see him play were you, you silly old fool? He is a chip +of the old block. He didn't know when he was licked. Wow, wow, +wow, blood will tell! Come along with us, Harry." + +"I must shake hands with the youngster, Dick. Glad I changed my +mind and came to see him do it." + +"All right, see you at Mory's to-night. Tell the boy we're all +proud of him." + +Seeley resumed his course, saying over and over again, as if he +loved the sound of the words, "chip of the old block," "blood will +tell." + +This verdict was like the ringing call of bugles. It made him feel +young, hopeful, resolute, that life were worth having for the sake +of its strife. One thing at least was certain. His son could "take +his punishment" and wrest victory from disaster, and he deserved +something better than a coward and a quitter for a father. + +The full-back was sitting on a bench when the elder Seeley entered +the crowded, steaming room of the training house. The surgeon had +removed the muddy, blood-stained bandage from around his tousled +head and was cleansing an ugly, ragged gash. The boy scowled and +winced but made no complaint, although his bruised face was very +pale. + +"Must have made you feel pretty foggy," said the surgeon. "I shall +have to put in a few stitches. It was a deuce of a thump." + +"I couldn't see very well and my legs went queer for a few +minutes, but I'm all right now, thanks," replied the full-back, +and then, glancing up, he espied his father standing near the +door. The young hero of the game beckoned him with a grimy fist. +Henry Seeley went over to him, took the fist in his two hands, and +then patted the boy's cheek with awkward and unaccustomed +tenderness. + +"Sit still, Ernest. I won't interfere with the doctor's job. I +just wanted to let you know that I saw your bully work. It made me +think of--it made me think of--" + +Henry Seeley's voice broke curiously and his lip quivered. He had +not meant to show any emotion. + +His son replied with a smile of affectionate admiration: "It made +you think of your own teams, didn't it? And I was thinking of you +in that last half. It helped my nerve a whole lot to remember that +my dad never knew when he was licked. Why, even the coaches told +me that between the halves. It put more ginger into me than +anything else. We've got to keep up the family record between us." + +The father looked beyond the boy as if he were thinking of a +bigger, sterner game than football. There was the light of a +resurrected determination in his eyes, and a vibrant earnestness +in his voice as he said: + +"I'm not worrying about your keeping the family record bright, +Ernest. And, however things may go with me, you will be able to +hang fast to the doctrine which helped you to-day, that your +father, too, doesn't know when he is whipped." + + + + + + +GALLEGHER + +A NEWSPAPER STORY + +BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS + +This is an illustration of a popular type of the short-story. The +movement from beginning to end is swift and urgent; something +important is happening all the time. Description is reduced to the +minimum, and where it is used does not impede the action. The +local color of a great newspaper office in a large city +contributes to the impression of orderly activity and haste. +Gallegher, moreover, is the kind of character that enlists +sympathy by his youth, his daring, and his resourcefulness. + + + + +GALLEGHER + +[Footnote: From "Gallegher and Other Stories," by Richard Harding +Davis. Copyright, 1891, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +We had had so many office-boys before Gallegher came among us that +they had begun to lose the characteristics of individuals, and +became merged in a composite photograph of small boys, to whom we +applied the generic title of "Here, you"; or "You, boy." + +We had had sleepy boys, and lazy boys, and bright, "smart" boys, +who became so familiar on so short an acquaintance that we were +forced to part with them to save our own self-respect. + +They generally graduated into district-messenger boys, and +occasionally returned to us in blue coats with nickel-plated +buttons, and patronized us. + +But Gallegher was something different from anything we had +experienced before. Gallegher was short and broad in build, with a +solid, muscular broadness, and not a fat and dumpy shortness. He +wore perpetually on his face a happy and knowing smile, as if you +and the world in general were not impressing him as seriously as +you thought you were, and his eyes, which were very black and very +bright, snapped intelligently at you like those of a little black- +and-tan terrier. + +All Gallegher knew had been learnt on the streets; not a very good +school in itself, but one that turns out very knowing scholars. +And Gallagher had attended both morning and evening sessions. He +could not tell you who the Pilgrim Fathers were, nor could he name +the thirteen original States, but he knew all the officers of the +twenty-second police district by name, and he could distinguish +the clang of a fire-engine's gong from that of a patrol-wagon or +an ambulance fully two blocks distant. It was Gallegher who rang +the alarm when the Woolwich Mills caught fire, while the officer +on the beat was asleep, and it was Gallegher who led the "Black +Diamonds" against the "Wharf Rats," when they used to stone each +other to their hearts' content on the coal-wharves of Richmond. + +I am afraid, now that I see these facts written down, that +Gallegher was not a reputable character; but he was so very young +and so very old for his years that we all liked him very much +nevertheless. He lived in the extreme northern part of +Philadelphia, where the cotton-and woollen-mills run down to the +river, and how he ever got home after leaving the Press building +at two in the morning, was one of the mysteries of the office. +Sometimes he caught a night car, and sometimes he walked all the +way, arriving at the little house, where his mother and himself +lived alone, at four in the morning. Occasionally he was given a +ride on an early milk-cart, or on one of the newspaper delivery +wagons, with its high piles of papers still damp and sticky from +the press. He knew several drivers of "night hawks"--those cabs +that prowl the streets at night looking for belated passengers-- +and when it was a very cold morning he would not go home at all, +but would crawl into one of these cabs and sleep, curled upon the +cushions, until daylight. + +Besides being quick and cheerful, Gallegher possessed a power of +amusing the Press's young men to a degree seldom attained by the +ordinary mortal. His clog-dancing on the city editor's desk, when +that gentleman was upstairs fighting for two more columns of +space, was always a source of innocent joy to us, and his +imitations of the comedians of the variety halls delighted even +the dramatic critic, from whom the comedians themselves failed to +force a smile. + +But Gallegher's chief characteristic was his love for that element +of news generically classed as "crime." + +Not that he ever did anything criminal himself. On the contrary, +his was rather the work of the criminal specialist, and his morbid +interest in the doings of all queer characters, his knowledge of +their methods, their present whereabouts, and their past deeds of +transgression often rendered him a valuable ally to our police +reporter, whose daily feuilletons were the only portion of the +paper Gallegher deigned to read. + +In Gallegher the detective element was abnormally developed. He +had shown this on several occasions, and to excellent purpose. + +Once the paper had sent him into a Home for Destitute Orphans +which was believed to be grievously mismanaged, and Gallegher, +while playing the part of a destitute orphan, kept his eyes open +to what was going on around him so faithfully that the story he +told of the treatment meted out to the real orphans was sufficient +to rescue the unhappy little wretches from the individual who had +them in charge, and to have the individual himself sent to jail. + +Gallegher's knowledge of the aliases, terms of imprisonment, and +various misdoings of the leading criminals in Philadelphia was +almost as thorough as that of the chief of police himself, and he +could tell to an hour when "Dutchy Mack" was to be let out of +prison, and could identify at a glance "Dick Oxford, confidence +man," as "Gentleman Dan, petty thief." + +There were, at this time, only two pieces of news in any of the +papers. The least important of the two was the big fight between +the Champion of the United States and the Would-be Champion, +arranged to take place near Philadelphia; the second was the +Burrbank murder, which was filling space in newspapers all over +the world, from New York to Bombay. + +Richard F. Burrbank was one of the most prominent of New York's +railroad lawyers; he was also, as a matter of course, an owner of +much railroad stock, and a very wealthy man. He had been spoken of +as a political possibility for many high offices, and, as the +counsel for a great railroad, was known even further than the +great railroad itself had stretched its system. + +At six o 'clock one morning he was found by his butler lying at +the foot of the hall stairs with two pistol wounds above his +heart. He was quite dead. His safe, to which only he and his +secretary had the keys, was found open, and $200,000 in bonds, +stocks, and money, which had been placed there only the night +before, was found missing. The secretary was missing also. His +name was Stephen S. Hade, and his name and his description had +been telegraphed and cabled to all parts of the world. There was +enough circumstantial evidence to show, beyond any question or +possibility of mistake, that he was the murderer. + +It made an enormous amount of talk, and unhappy individuals were +being arrested all over the country, and sent on to New York for +identification. Three had been arrested at Liverpool, and one man +just as he landed at Sydney, Australia. But so far the murderer +had escaped. + +We were all talking about it one night, as everybody else was all +over the country, in the local room, and the city editor said it +was worth a fortune to any one who chanced to run across Hade and +succeeded in handing him over to the police. Some of us thought +Hade had taken passage from some one of the smaller seaports, and +others were of the opinion that he had buried himself in some +cheap lodging-house in New York, or in one of the smaller towns in +New Jersey. + +"I shouldn't be surprised to meet him out walking, right here in +Philadelphia," said one of the staff. "He'll be disguised, of +course, but you could always tell him by the absence of the +trigger finger on his right hand. It's missing, you know; shot off +when he was a boy." + +"You want to look for a man dressed like a tough," said the city +editor; "for as this fellow is to all appearances a gentleman, he +will try to look as little like a gentleman as possible." + +"No, he won't," said Gallegher, with that calm impertinence that +made him dear to us. "He'll dress just like a gentleman. Toughs +don't wear gloves, and you see he's got to wear 'em. The first +thing he thought of after doing for Burrbank was of that gone +finger, and how he was to hide it. He stuffed the finger of that +glove with cotton so's to make it look like a whole finger, and +the first time he takes off that glove they've got him--see, and +he knows it. So what youse want to do is to look for a man with +gloves on. I've been a-doing it for two weeks now, and I can tell +you it's hard work, for everybody wears gloves this kind of +weather. But if you look long enough you'll find him. And when you +think it's him, go up to him and hold out your hand in a friendly +way, like a bunco-steerer, and shake his hand; and if you feel +that his forefinger ain't real flesh, but just wadded cotton, then +grip to it with your right and grab his throat with your left, and +holler for help." + +There was an appreciative pause. + +"I see, gentlemen," said the city editor, drily, "that Gallegher's +reasoning has impressed you; and I also see that before the week +is out all of my young men will be under bonds for assaulting +innocent pedestrians whose only offence is that they wear gloves +in mid-winter." + + . . . . . . . + +It was about a week after this that Detective Hefflefinger, of +Inspector Byrnes's staff, came over to Philadelphia after a +burglar, of whose whereabouts he had been misinformed by +telegraph. He brought the warrant, requisition, and other +necessary papers with him, but the burglar had flown. One of our +reporters had worked on a New York paper, and knew Hefflefinger, +and the detective came to the office to see if he could help him +in his so far unsuccessful search. + +He gave Gallegher his card, and after Gallegher had read it, and +had discovered who the visitor was, he became so demoralized that +he was absolutely useless. + +"One of Byrnes's men" was a much more awe-inspiring individual to +Gallegher than a member of the Cabinet. He accordingly seized his +hat and overcoat, and leaving his duties to be looked after by +others, hastened out after the object of his admiration, who found +his suggestions and knowledge of the city so valuable, and his +company so entertaining, that they became very intimate, and spent +the rest of the day together. + +In the meanwhile the managing editor had instructed his +subordinates to inform Gallegher, when he condescended to return, +that his services were no longer needed. Gallegher had played +truant once too often. Unconscious of this, he remained with his +new friend until late the same evening, and started the next +afternoon toward the Press office. + +As I have said, Gallegher lived in the most distant part of the +city, not many minutes' walk from the Kensington railroad station, +where trains ran into the suburbs and on to New York. + +It was in front of this station that a smoothly-shaven, well- +dressed man brushed past Gallegher and hurried up the steps to the +ticket office. + +He held a walking-stick in his right hand, and Gallegher, who now +patiently scrutinized the hands of every one who wore gloves, saw +that while three fingers of the man's hand were closed around the +cane, the fourth stood out in almost a straight line with his +palm. + +Gallegher stopped with a gasp and with a trembling all over his +little body, and his brain asked with a throb if it could be +possible. But possibilities and probabilities were to be +discovered later. Now was the time for action. + +He was after the man in a moment, hanging at his heels and his +eyes moist with excitement. + +He heard the man ask for a ticket to Torresdale, a little station +just outside of Philadelphia, and when he was out of hearing, but +not out of sight, purchased one for the same place. + +The stranger went into the smoking-car, and seated himself at one +end toward the door. Gallegher took his place at the opposite end. + +He was trembling all over, and suffered from a slight feeling of +nausea. He guessed it came from fright, not of any bodily harm +that might come to him, but at the probability of failure in his +adventure and of its most momentous possibilities. + +The stranger pulled his coat collar up around his ears, hiding the +lower portion of his face, but not concealing the resemblance in +his troubled eyes and close-shut lips to the likenesses of the +murderer Hade. + +They reached Torresdale in half an hour, and the stranger, +alighting quickly, struck off at a rapid pace down the country +road leading to the station. + +Gallegher gave him a hundred yards' start, and then followed +slowly after. The road ran between fields and past a few frame- +houses set far from the road in kitchen gardens. + +Once or twice the man looked back over his shoulder, but he saw +only a dreary length of road with a small boy splashing through +the slush in the midst of it and stopping every now and again to +throw snowballs at belated sparrows. + +After a ten minutes' walk the stranger turned into a side road +which led to only one place, the Eagle Inn, an old roadside +hostelry known now as the headquarters for pothunters from the +Philadelphia game market and the battle-ground of many a cock- +fight. + +Gallegher knew the place well. He and his young companions had +often stopped there when out chestnutting on holidays in the +autumn. + +The son of the man who kept it had often accompanied them on their +excursions, and though the boys of the city streets considered him +a dumb lout, they respected him somewhat owing to his inside +knowledge of dog-and cock-fights. + +The stranger entered the inn at a side door, and Gallegher, +reaching it a few minutes later, let him go for the time being, +and set about finding his occasional playmate, young Keppler. + +Keppler's offspring was found in the wood-shed. + +"'Tain't hard to guess what brings you out here," said the tavern- +keeper's son, with a grin; "it's the fight." + +"What fight?" asked Gallegher, unguardedly. + +"What fight? Why, THE fight," returned his companion, with the +slow contempt of superior knowledge. "It's to come off here to- +night. You knew that as well as me; anyway your sportin' editor +knows it. He got the tip last night, but that won't help you any. +You needn't think there's any chance of your getting a peep at it. +Why, tickets is two hundred and fifty apiece!" + +"Whew!" whistled Gallegher, "where's it to be?" + +"In the barn," whispered Keppler. "I helped 'em fix the ropes this +morning, I did." + +"Gosh, but you're in luck," exclaimed Gallegher, with flattering +envy. "Couldn't I jest get a peep at it?" + +"Maybe," said the gratified Keppler. "There's a winder with a +wooden shutter at the back of the barn. You can get in by it, if +you have some one to boost you up to the sill." + +"Sa-a-y," drawled Gallegher, as if something had but just that +moment reminded him. "Who's that gent who come down the road just +a bit ahead of me--him with the cape-coat! Has he got anything to +do with the fight?" + +"Him?" repeated Keppler in tones of sincere disgust. "No--oh, he +ain't no sport. He's queer, Dad thinks. He come here one day last +week about ten in the morning, said his doctor told him to go out +'en the country for his health. He's stuck up and citified, and +wears gloves, and takes his meals private in his room, and all +that sort of truck. They was saying in the saloon last night that +they thought he was hiding from something, and Dad, just to try +him, asks him last night if he was coming to see the fight. He +looked sort of scared, and said he didn't want to see no fight. +And then Dad says, 'I guess you mean you don't want no fighters to +see you.' Dad didn't mean no harm by it, just passed it as a joke; +but Mr. Carleton, as he calls himself, got white as a ghost an' +says, 'I'll go to the fight willing enough,' and begins to laugh +and joke. And this morning he went right into the bar-room, where +all the sports were setting, and said he was going in to town to +see some friends; and as he starts off he laughs an' says, 'This +don't look as if I was afraid of seeing people, does it?' but Dad +says it was just bluff that made him do it, and Dad thinks that if +he hadn't said what he did, this Mr. Carleton wouldn't have left +his room at all." + +Gallegher had got all he wanted, and much more than he had hoped +for--so much more that his walk back to the station was in the +nature of a triumphal march. + +He had twenty minutes to wait for the next train, and it seemed an +hour. While waiting he sent a telegram to Hefflefinger at his +hotel. It read: "Your man is near the Torresdale station, on +Pennsylvania Railroad; take cab, and meet me at station. Wait +until I come. GALLEGHER." + +With the exception of one at midnight, no other train stopped at +Torresdale that evening, hence the direction to take a cab. + +The train to the city seemed to Gallegher to drag itself by +inches. It stopped and backed at purposeless intervals, waited for +an express to precede it, and dallied at stations, and when, at +last, it reached the terminus, Gallegher was out before it had +stopped and was in the cab and off on his way to the home of the +sporting editor. + +The sporting editor was at dinner and came out in the hall to see +him, with his napkin in his hand. Gallegher explained breathlessly +that he had located the murderer for whom the police of two +continents were looking, and that he believed, in order to quiet +the suspicions of the people with whom he was hiding, that he +would be present at the fight that night. + +The sporting editor led Gallegher into his library and shut the +door. "Now," he said, "go over all that again." + +Gallegher went over it again in detail, and added how he had sent +for Hefflefinger to make the arrest in order that it might be kept +from the knowledge of the local police and from the Philadelphia +reporters. + +"What I want Hefflefinger to do is to arrest Hade with the warrant +he has for the burglar," explained Gallegher; "and to take him on +to New York on the owl train that passes Torresdale at one. It +don't get to Jersey City until four o'clock, one hour after the +morning papers go to press. Of course, we must fix Hefflefinger +so's he'll keep quiet and not tell who his prisoner really is." + +The sporting editor reached his hand out to pat Gallegher on the +head, but changed his mind and shook hands with him instead. + +"My boy," he said, "you are an infant phenomenon. If I can pull +the rest of this thing off to-night, it will mean the $5,000 +reward and fame galore for you and the paper. Now, I'm going to +write a note to the managing editor, and you can take it around to +him and tell him what you've done and what I am going to do, and +he'll take you back on the paper and raise your salary. Perhaps +you didn't know you've been discharged?" + +"Do you think you ain't a-going to take me with you?" demanded +Gallegher. + +"Why, certainly not. Why should I? It all lies with the detective +and myself now. You've done your share, and done it well. If the +man's caught, the reward's yours. But you'd only be in the way +now. You'd better go to the office and make your peace with the +chief." + +"If the paper can get along without me, I can get along without +the old paper," said Gallegher, hotly. "And if I ain't a-going +with you, you ain't neither, for I know where Hefflefinger is to +be, and you don't, and I won't tell you." + +"Oh, very well, very well," replied the sporting editor, weakly +capitulating. "I'll send the note by a messenger; only mind, if +you lose your place, don't blame me." + +Gallegher wondered how this man could value a week's salary +against the excitement of seeing a noted criminal run down, and of +getting the news to the paper, and to that one paper alone. + +From that moment the sporting editor sank in Gallegher's +estimation. + +Mr. Dwyer sat down at his desk and scribbled off the following +note: + +"I have received reliable information that Hade, the Burrbank +murderer, will be present at the fight to-night. We have arranged +it so that he will be arrested quietly and in such a manner that +the fact may be kept from all other papers. I need not point out +to you that this will be the most important piece of news in the +country to-morrow. + + "Yours, etc., + + "MICHAEL E. DWYER." + +The sporting editor stepped into the waiting cab, while Gallegher +whispered the directions to the driver. He was told to go first to +a district-messenger office, and from there up to the Ridge Avenue +Road, out Broad Street, and on to the old Eagle Inn, near +Torresdale. + +It was a miserable night. The rain and snow were falling together, +and freezing as they fell. The sporting editor got out to send his +message to the Press office, and then lighting a cigar, and +turning up the collar of his great-coat, curled up in the corner +of the cab. + +"Wake me when we get there, Gallegher," he said. He knew he had a +long ride, and much rapid work before him, and he was preparing +for the strain. + +To Gallegher the idea of going to sleep seemed almost criminal. +From the dark corner of the cab his eyes shone with excitement, +and with the awful joy of anticipation. He glanced every now and +then to where the sporting editor's cigar shone in the darkness, +and watched it as it gradually burnt more dimly and went out. The +lights in the shop windows threw a broad glare across the ice on +the pavements, and the lights from the lamp-posts tossed the +distorted shadow of the cab, and the horse, and the motionless +driver, sometimes before and sometimes behind them. + +After half an hour Gallegher slipped down to the bottom of the cab +and dragged out a lap-robe, in which he wrapped himself. It was +growing colder, and the damp, keen wind swept in through the +cracks until the window-frames and woodwork were cold to the +touch. + +An hour passed, and the cab was still moving more slowly over the +rough surface of partly paved streets, and by single rows of new +houses standing at different angles to each other in fields +covered with ash-heaps and brick-kilns. Here and there the gaudy +lights of a drug-store, and the forerunner of suburban +civilization, shone from the end of a new block of houses, and the +rubber cape of an occasional policeman showed in the light of the +lamp-post that he hugged for comfort. + +Then even the houses disappeared, and the cab dragged its way +between truck farms, with desolate-looking, glass-covered beds, +and pools of water, half-caked with ice, and bare trees, and +interminable fences. + +Once or twice the cab stopped altogether, and Gallegher could hear +the driver swearing to himself, or at the horse, or the roads. At +last they drew up before the station at Torresdale. It was quite +deserted, and only a single light cut a swath in the darkness and +showed a portion of the platform, the ties, and the rails +glistening in the rain. They walked twice past the light before a +figure stepped out of the shadow and greeted them cautiously. + +"I am Mr. Dwyer, of the Press," said the sporting editor, briskly. +"You've heard of me, perhaps. Well, there shouldn't be any +difficulty in our making a deal, should there? This boy here has +found Hade, and we have reason to believe he will be among the +spectators at the fight to-night. We want you to arrest him +quietly, and as secretly as possible. You can do it with your +papers and your badge easily enough. We want you to pretend that +you believe he is this burglar you came over after. If you will do +this, and take him away without any one so much as suspecting who +he really is, and on the train that passes here at 1.20 for New +York, we will give you $500 out of the $5,000 reward. If, however, +one other paper, either in New York or Philadelphia, or anywhere +else, knows of the arrest, you won't get a cent. Now, what do you +say?" + +The detective had a great deal to say. He wasn't at all sure the +man Gallegher suspected was Hade; he feared he might get himself +into trouble by making a false arrest, and if it should be the +man, he was afraid the local police would interfere. + +"We've no time to argue or debate this matter," said Dwyer, +warmly. "We agree to point Hade out to you in the crowd. After the +fight is over you arrest him as we have directed, and you get the +money and the credit of the arrest. If you don't like this, I will +arrest the man myself, and have him driven to town, with a pistol +for a warrant." + +Hefflefinger considered in silence and then agreed +unconditionally. "As you say, Mr. Dwyer," he returned. "I've heard +of you for a thoroughbred sport. I know you'll do what you say +you'll do; and as for me I'll do what you say and just as you say, +and it's a very pretty piece of work as it stands." + +They all stepped back into the cab, and then it was that they were +met by a fresh difficulty, how to get the detective into the barn +where the fight was to take place, for neither of the two men had +$250 to pay for his admittance. + +But this was overcome when Gallegher remembered the window of +which young Keppler had told him. + +In the event of Hade's losing courage and not daring to show +himself in the crowd around the ring, it was agreed that Dwyer +should come to the barn and warn Hefflefinger; but if he should +come, Dwyer was merely to keep near him and to signify by a +prearranged gesture which one of the crowd he was. + +They drew up before a great black shadow of a house, dark, +forbidding, and apparently deserted. But at the sound of the +wheels on the gravel the door opened, letting out a stream of +warm, cheerful light, and a man's voice said, "Put out those +lights. Don't youse know no better than that?" This was Keppler, +and he welcomed Mr. Dwyer with effusive courtesy. + +The two men showed in the stream of light, and the door closed on +them, leaving the house as it was at first, black and silent, save +for the dripping of the rain and snow from the eaves. + +The detective and Gallegher put out the cab's lamps and led the +horse toward a long, low shed in the rear of the yard, which they +now noticed was almost filled with teams of many different makes, +from the Hobson's choice of a livery stable to the brougham of the +man about town. + +"No," said Gallegher, as the cabman stopped to hitch the horse +beside the others, "we want it nearest that lower gate. When we +newspaper men leave this place we'll leave it in a hurry, and the +man who is nearest town is likely to get there first. You won't be +a-following of no hearse when you make your return trip." + +Gallegher tied the horse to the very gate-post itself, leaving the +gate open and allowing a clear road and a flying start for the +prospective race to Newspaper Row. + +The driver disappeared under the shelter of the porch, and +Gallegher and the detective moved off cautiously to the rear of +the barn. "This must be the window," said Hefflefinger, pointing +to a broad wooden shutter some feet from the ground. + +"Just you give me a boost once, and I'll get that open in a +jiffy," said Gallegher. + +The detective placed his hands on his knees, and Gallegher stood +upon his shoulders, and with the blade of his knife lifted the +wooden button that fastened the window on the inside, and pulled +the shutter open. + +Then he put one leg inside over the sill, and leaning down helped +to draw his fellow-conspirator up to a level with the window. "I +feel just like I was burglarizing a house," chuckled Gallegher, as +he dropped noiselessly to the floor below and refastened the +shutter. The barn was a large one, with a row of stalls on either +side in which horses and cows were dozing. There was a haymow over +each row of stalls, and at one end of the barn a number of fence- +rails had been thrown across from one mow to the other. These +rails were covered with hay. + +In the middle of the floor was the ring. It was not really a ring, +but a square, with wooden posts at its four corners through which +ran a heavy rope. The space inclosed by the rope was covered with +sawdust. + +Gallegher could not resist stepping into the ring, and after +stamping the sawdust once or twice, as if to assure himself that +he was really there, began dancing around it, and indulging in +such a remarkable series of fistic manoeuvres with an imaginary +adversary that the unimaginative detective precipitately backed +into a corner of the barn. + +"Now, then," said Gallegher, having apparently vanquished his foe, +"you come with me." His companion followed quickly as Gallegher +climbed to one of the haymows, and crawling carefully out on the +fence-rail, stretched himself at full length, face downward. In +this position, by moving the straw a little, he could look down, +without being himself seen, upon the heads of whomsoever stood +below. "This is better'n a private box, ain't it?" said Gallegher. + +The boy from the newspaper office and the detective lay there in +silence, biting at straws and tossing anxiously on their +comfortable bed. + +It seemed fully two hours before they came. Gallegher had listened +without breathing, and with every muscle on a strain, at least a +dozen times, when some movement in the yard had led him to believe +that they were at the door. + +And he had numerous doubts and fears. Sometimes it was that the +police had learnt of the fight, and had raided Keppler's in his +absence, and again it was that the fight had been postponed, or, +worst of all, that it would be put off until so late that Mr. +Dwyer could not get back in time for the last edition of the +paper. Their coming, when at last they came, was heralded by an +advance-guard of two sporting men, who stationed themselves at +either side of the big door. + +"Hurry up, now, gents," one of the men said with a shiver, "don't +keep this door open no longer'n is needful." + +It was not a very large crowd, but it was wonderfully well +selected. It ran, in the majority of its component parts, to heavy +white coats with pearl buttons. The white coats were shouldered by +long blue coats with astrakhan fur trimmings, the wearers of which +preserved a cliqueness not remarkable when one considers that they +believed every one else present to be either a crook or a prize- +fighter. + +There were well-fed, well-groomed clubmen and brokers in the +crowd, a politician or two, a popular comedian with his manager, +amateur boxers from the athletic clubs, and quiet, close-mouthed +sporting men from every city in the country. Their names if +printed in the papers would have been as familiar as the types of +the papers themselves. + +And among these men, whose only thought was of the brutal sport to +come, was Hade, with Dwyer standing at ease at his shoulder,-- +Hade, white, and visibly in deep anxiety, hiding his pale face +beneath a cloth travelling-cap, and with his chin muffled in a +woollen scarf. He had dared to come because he feared his danger +from the already suspicious Keppler was less than if he stayed +away. And so he was there, hovering restlessly on the border of +the crowd, feeling his danger and sick with fear. + +When Hefflefinger first saw him he started up on his hands and +elbows and made a movement forward as if he would leap down then +and there and carry off his prisoner single-handed. + +"Lie down," growled Gallegher; "an officer of any sort wouldn't +live three minutes in that crowd." + +The detective drew back slowly and buried himself again in the +straw, but never once through the long fight which followed did +his eyes leave the person of the murderer. The newspaper men took +their places in the foremost row close around the ring, and kept +looking at their watches and begging the master of ceremonies to +"shake it up, do." + +There was a great deal of betting, and all of the men handled the +great roll of bills they wagered with a flippant recklessness +which could only be accounted for in Gallegher's mind by temporary +mental derangement. Some one pulled a box out into the ring and +the master of ceremonies mounted it, and pointed out in forcible +language that as they were almost all already under bonds to keep +the peace, it behooved all to curb their excitement and to +maintain a severe silence, unless they wanted to bring the police +upon them and have themselves "sent down" for a year or two. + +Then two very disreputable-looking persons tossed their respective +principals' high hats into the ring, and the crowd, recognizing in +this relic of the days when brave knights threw down their +gauntlets in the lists as only a sign that the fight was about to +begin, cheered tumultuously. + +This was followed by a sudden surging forward, and a mutter of +admiration much more flattering than the cheers had been, when the +principals followed their hats, and slipping out of their great- +coats, stood forth in all the physical beauty of the perfect +brute. + +Their pink skin was as soft and healthy-looking as a baby's, and +glowed in the lights of the lanterns like tinted ivory, and +underneath this silken covering the great biceps and muscles moved +in and out and looked like the coils of a snake around the branch +of a tree. + +Gentleman and blackguard shouldered each other for a nearer view; +the coachmen, whose metal buttons were unpleasantly suggestive of +police, put their hands, in the excitement of the moment, on the +shoulders of their masters; the perspiration stood out in great +drops on the foreheads of the backers, and the newspaper men bit +somewhat nervously at the ends of their pencils. + +And in the stalls the cows munched contentedly at their cuds and +gazed with gentle curiosity at their two fellow-brutes, who stood +waiting the signal to fall upon, and kill each other if need be, +for the delectation of their brothers. + +"Take your places," commanded the master of ceremonies. + +In the moment in which the two men faced each other the crowd +became so still that, save for the beating of the rain upon the +shingled roof and the stamping of a horse in one of the stalls, +the place was as silent as a church. + +"Time!" shouted the master of ceremonies. + +The two men sprang into a posture of defence, which was lost as +quickly as it was taken, one great arm shot out like a piston-rod; +there was the sound of bare fists beating on naked flesh; there +was an exultant indrawn gasp of savage pleasure and relief from +the crowd, and the great fight had begun. + +How the fortunes of war rose and fell, and changed and rechanged +that night, is an old story to those who listen to such stories; +and those who do not will be glad to be spared the telling of it. +It was, they say, one of the bitterest fights between two men that +this country has ever known. + +But all that is of interest here is that after an hour of this +desperate brutal business the champion ceased to be the favorite; +the man whom he had taunted and bullied, and for whom the public +had but little sympathy, was proving himself a likely winner, and +under his cruel blows, as sharp and clean as those from a cutlass, +his opponent was rapidly giving way. + +The men about the ropes were past all control now; they drowned +Keppler's petitions for silence with oaths and in inarticulate +shouts of anger, as if the blows had fallen upon them, and in mad +rejoicings. They swept from one end of the ring to the other, with +every muscle leaping in unison with those of the man they favored, +and when a New York correspondent muttered over his shoulder that +this would be the biggest sporting surprise since the Heenan- +Sayers fight, Mr. Dwyer nodded his head sympathetically in assent. + +In the excitement and tumult it is doubtful if any heard the three +quickly repeated blows that fell heavily from the outside upon the +big doors of the barn. If they did, it was already too late to +mend matters, for the door fell, torn from its hinges, and as it +fell a captain of police sprang into the light from out of the +storm, with his lieutenants and their men crowding close at his +shoulder. + +In the panic and stampede that followed, several of the men stood +as helplessly immovable as though they had seen a ghost; others +made a mad rush into the arms of the officers and were beaten back +against the ropes of the ring; others dived headlong into the +stalls, among the horses and cattle, and still others shoved the +rolls of money they held into the hands of the police and begged +like children to be allowed to escape. + +The instant the door fell and the raid was declared Hefflefinger +slipped over the cross rails on which he had been lying, hung for +an instant by his hands, and then dropped into the centre of the +fighting mob on the floor. He was out of it in an instant with the +agility of a pickpocket, was across the room and at Hade's throat +like a dog. The murderer, for the moment, was the calmer man of +the two. + +"Here," he panted, "hands off, now. There's no need for all this +violence. There's no great harm in looking at a fight, is there? +There's a hundred-dollar bill in my right hand; take it and let me +slip out of this. No one is looking. Here." + +But the detective only held him the closer. + +"I want you for burglary," he whispered under his breath. "You've +got to come with me now, and quick. The less fuss you make, the +better for both of us. If you don't know who I am, you can feel my +badge under my coat there. I've got the authority. It's all +regular, and when we're out of this d---d row I'll show you the +papers." + +He took one hand from Hade's throat and pulled a pair of handcuffs +from his pocket. + +"It's a mistake. This is an outrage," gasped the murderer, white +and trembling, but dreadfully alive and desperate for his liberty. +"Let me go, I tell you! Take your hands off of me! Do I look like +a burglar, you fool?" + +"I know who you look like," whispered the detective, with his face +close to the face of his prisoner. "Now, will you go easy as a +burglar, or shall I tell these men who you are and what I DO want +you for? Shall I call out your real name or not? Shall I tell +them? Quick, speak up; shall I?" + +There was something so exultant--something so unnecessarily savage +in the officer's face that the man he held saw that the detective +knew him for what he really was, and the hands that had held his +throat slipped down around his shoulders, or he would have fallen. +The man's eyes opened and closed again, and he swayed weakly +backward and forward, and choked as if his throat were dry and +burning. Even to such a hardened connoisseur in crime as +Gallegher, who stood closely by, drinking it in, there was +something so abject in the man's terror that he regarded him with +what was almost a touch of pity. + +"For God's sake," Hade begged, "let me go. Come with me to my room +and I'll give you half the money. I'll divide with you fairly. We +can both get away. There's a fortune for both of us there. We both +can get away. You'll be rich for life. Do you understand--for +life!" + +But the detective, to his credit, only shut his lips the tighter. + +"That's enough," he whispered, in return. "That's more than I +expected. You've sentenced yourself already. Come!" + +Two officers in uniform barred their exit at the door, but +Hefflefinger smiled easily and showed his badge. + +"One of Byrnes's men," he said, in explanation; "came over +expressly to take this chap. He's a burglar; 'Arlie' Lane, alias +Carleton. I've shown the papers to the captain. It's all regular. +I'm just going to get his traps at the hotel and walk him over to +the station. I guess we'll push right on to New York tonight." + +The officers nodded and smiled their admiration for the +representative of what is, perhaps, the best detective force in +the world, and let him pass. + +Then Hefflefinger turned and spoke to Gallegher, who still stood +as watchful as a dog at his side. "I'm going to his room to get +the bonds and stuff," he whispered; "then I'll march him to the +station and take that train. I've done my share; don't forget +yours!" + +"Oh, you'll get your money right enough," said Gallegher. "And, +sa-ay," he added, with the appreciative nod of an expert, "do you +know, you did it rather well." + +Mr. Dwyer had been writing while the raid was settling down, as he +had been writing while waiting for the fight to begin. Now he +walked over to where the other correspondents stood in angry +conclave. + +The newspaper men had informed the officers who hemmed them in +that they represented the principal papers of the country, and +were expostulating vigorously with the captain, who had planned +the raid, and who declared they were under arrest. + +"Don't be an ass, Scott," said Mr. Dwyer, who was too excited to +be polite or politic. "You know our being here isn't a matter of +choice. We came here on business, as you did, and you've no right +to hold us." + +"If we don't get our stuff on the wire at once," protested a New +York man, "we'll be too late for tomorrow's paper, and--" + +Captain Scott said he did not care a profanely small amount for +to-morrow's paper, and that all he knew was that to the station- +house the newspaper men would go. There they would have a hearing, +and if the magistrate chose to let them off, that was the +magistrate's business, but that his duty was to take them into +custody. + +"But then it will be too late, don't you understand?" shouted Mr. +Dwyer. "You've got to let us go NOW, at once." + +"I can't do it, Mr. Dwyer," said the captain, "and that's all +there is to it. Why, haven't I just sent the president of the +Junior Republican Club to the patrol-wagon, the man that put this +coat on me, and do you think I can let you fellows go after that? +You were all put under bonds to keep the peace not three days ago, +and here you're at it--fighting like badgers. It's worth my place +to let one of you off." + +What Mr. Dwyer said next was so uncomplimentary to the gallant +Captain Scott that that overwrought individual seized the sporting +editor by the shoulder, and shoved him into the hands of two of +his men. + +This was more than the distinguished Mr. Dwyer could brook, and he +excitedly raised his hand in resistance. But before he had time to +do anything foolish his wrist was gripped by one strong, little +hand, and he was conscious that another was picking the pocket of +his great-coat. + +He slapped his hands to his sides, and looking down, saw Gallegher +standing close behind him and holding him by the wrist. Mr. Dwyer +had forgotten the boy's existence, and would have spoken sharply +if something in Gallegher's innocent eyes had not stopped him. + +Gallegher's hand was still in that pocket, in which Mr. Dwyer had +shoved his note-book filled with what he had written of +Gallegher's work and Hade's final capture, and with a running +descriptive account of the fight. With his eyes fixed on Mr. +Dwyer, Gallegher drew it out, and with a quick movement shoved it +inside his waistcoat. Mr. Dwyer gave a nod of comprehension. Then +glancing at his two guardsmen, and finding that they were still +interested in the wordy battle of the correspondents with their +chief, and had seen nothing, he stooped and whispered to +Gallegher: "The forms are locked at twenty minutes to three. If +you don't get there by that time it will be of no use, but if +you're on time you'll beat the town--and the country too." + +Gallegher's eyes flashed significantly, and nodding his head to +show he understood, started boldly on a run toward the door. But +the officers who guarded it brought him to an abrupt halt, and, +much to Mr. Dwyer's astonishment, drew from him what was +apparently a torrent of tears. + +"Let me go to me father. I want me father," the boy shrieked, +hysterically. "They've 'rested father. Oh, daddy, daddy. They're +a-goin' to take you to prison." + +"Who is your father, sonny?" asked one of the guardians of the +gate. + +"Keppler's me father," sobbed Gallegher. "They're a-goin' to lock +him up, and I'll never see him no more." + +"Oh, yes, you will," said the officer, good-naturedly; "he's there +in that first patrol-wagon. You can run over and say good-night to +him, and then you'd better get to bed. This ain't no place for +kids of your age." + +"Thank you, sir," sniffed Gallegher, tearfully, as the two +officers raised their clubs, and let him pass out into the +darkness. + +The yard outside was in a tumult, horses were stamping, and +plunging, and backing the carriages into one another; lights were +flashing from every window of what had been apparently an +uninhabited house, and the voices of the prisoners were still +raised in angry expostulation. + +Three police patrol-wagons were moving about the yard, filled with +unwilling passengers, who sat or stood, packed together like +sheep, and with no protection from the sleet and rain. + +Gallegher stole off into a dark corner, and watched the scene +until his eyesight became familiar with the position of the land. + +Then with his eyes fixed fearfully on the swinging light of a +lantern with which an officer was searching among the carriages, +he groped his way between horses' hoofs and behind the wheels of +carriages to the cab which he had himself placed at the +furthermost gate. It was still there, and the horse, as he had +left it, with its head turned toward the city. Gallegher opened +the big gate noiselessly, and worked nervously at the hitching +strap. The knot was covered with a thin coating of ice, and it was +several minutes before he could loosen it. But his teeth finally +pulled it apart, and with the reins in his hands he sprang upon +the wheel. And as he stood so, a shock of fear ran down his back +like an electric current, his breath left him, and he stood +immovable, gazing with wide eyes into the darkness. + +The officer with the lantern had suddenly loomed up from behind a +carriage not fifty feet distant, and was standing perfectly still, +with his lantern held over his head, peering so directly toward +Gallegher that the boy felt that he must see him. Gallegher stood +with one foot on the hub of the wheel and with the other on the +box waiting to spring. It seemed a minute before either of them +moved, and then the officer took a step forward, and demanded +sternly, "Who is that? What are you doing there?" + +There was no time for parley then. Gallegher felt that he had been +taken in the act, and that his only chance lay in open flight. He +leaped up on the box, pulling out the whip as he did so, and with +a quick sweep lashed the horse across the head and back. The +animal sprang forward with a snort, narrowly clearing the gate- +post, and plunged off into the darkness. + +"Stop!" cried the officer. + +So many of Gallegher's acquaintances among the 'longshoremen and +mill hands had been challenged in so much the same manner that +Gallegher knew what would probably follow if the challenge was +disregarded. So he slipped from his seat to the footboard below, +and ducked his head. + +The three reports of a pistol, which rang out briskly from behind +him, proved that his early training had given him a valuable fund +of useful miscellaneous knowledge. + +"Don't you be scared," he said, reassuringly, to the horse; "he's +firing in the air." + +The pistol-shots were answered by the impatient clangor of a +patrol-wagon's gong, and glancing over his shoulder Gallegher saw +its red and green lanterns tossing from side to side and looking +in the darkness like the side-lights of a yacht plunging forward +in a storm. + +"I hadn't bargained to race you against no patrol-wagons," said +Gallegher to his animal; "but if they want a race, we'll give them +a tough tussle for it, won't we?" + +Philadelphia, lying four miles to the south, sent up a faint +yellow glow to the sky. It seemed very far away, and Gallegher's +braggadocio grew cold within him at the loneliness of his +adventure and the thought of the long ride before him. + +It was still bitterly cold. + +The rain and sleet beat through his clothes, and struck his skin +with a sharp chilling touch that set him trembling. + +Even the thought of the overweighted patrol-wagon probably +sticking in the mud some safe distance in the rear, failed to +cheer him, and the excitement that had so far made him callous to +the cold died out and left him weaker and nervous. + +But his horse was chilled with the long standing, and now leaped +eagerly forward, only too willing to warm the half-frozen blood in +its veins. + +"You're a good beast," said Gallegher, plaintively. "You've got +more nerve than me. Don't you go back on me now. Mr. Dwyer says +we've got to beat the town." Gallegher had no idea what time it +was as he rode through the night, but he knew he would be able to +find out from a big clock over a manufactory at a point nearly +three-quarters of the distance from Keppler's to the goal. + +He was still in the open country and driving recklessly, for he +knew the best part of his ride must be made outside the city +limits. + +He raced between desolate-looking corn-fields with bare stalks and +patches of muddy earth rising above the thin covering of snow, +truck farms and brick-yards fell behind him on either side. It was +very lonely work, and once or twice the dogs ran yelping to the +gates and barked after him. + +Part of his way lay parallel with the railroad tracks, and he +drove for some time beside long lines of freight and coal cars as +they stood resting for the night. The fantastic Queen Anne +suburban stations were dark and deserted, but in one or two of the +block-towers he could see the operators writing at their desks, +and the sight in some way comforted him. + +Once he thought of stopping to get out the blanket in which he had +wrapped himself on the first trip, but he feared to spare the +time, and drove on with his teeth chattering and his shoulders +shaking with the cold. + +He welcomed the first solitary row of darkened houses with a faint +cheer of recognition. The scattered lamp-posts lightened his +spirits, and even the badly paved streets rang under the beats of +his horse's feet like music. Great mills and manufactories, with +only a night-watchman's light in the lowest of their many stories, +began to take the place of the gloomy farmhouses and gaunt trees +that had startled him with their grotesque shapes. He had been +driving nearly an hour, he calculated, and in that time the rain +had changed to a wet snow, that fell heavily and clung to whatever +it touched. He passed block after block of trim workmen's houses, +as still and silent as the sleepers within them, and at last he +turned the horse's head into Broad Street, the city's great +thoroughfare, that stretches from its one end to the other and +cuts it evenly in two. + +He was driving noiselessly over the snow and slush in the street, +with his thoughts bent only on the clockface he wished so much to +see, when a hoarse voice challenged him from the sidewalk. "Hey, +you, stop there, hold up!" said the voice. + +Gallegher turned his head, and though he saw that the voice came +from under a policeman's helmet, his only answer was to hit his +horse sharply over the head with his whip and to urge it into a +gallop. + +This, on his part, was followed by a sharp, shrill whistle from +the policeman. Another whistle answered it from a street-corner +one block ahead of him. "Whoa," said Gallegher, pulling on the +reins. "There's one too many of them," he added, in apologetic +explanation. The horse stopped, and stood, breathing heavily, with +great clouds of steam rising from its flanks. + +"Why in hell didn't you stop when I told you to?" demanded the +voice, now close at the cab's side. + +"I didn't hear you," returned Gallegher, sweetly. "But I heard you +whistle, and I heard your partner whistle, and I thought maybe it +was me you wanted to speak to, so I just stopped." + +"You heard me well enough. Why aren't your lights lit?" demanded +the voice. + +"Should I have 'em lit?" asked Gallegher, bending over and +regarding them with sudden interest. + +"You know you should, and if you don't, you've no right to be +driving that cab. I don't believe you're the regular driver, +anyway. Where'd you get it?" + +"It ain't my cab, of course," said Gallegher, with an easy laugh. +"It's Luke McGovern's. He left it outside Cronin's while he went +in to get a drink, and he took too much, and me father told me to +drive it round to the stable for him. I'm Cronin's son. McGovern +ain't in no condition to drive. You can see yourself how he's been +misusing the horse. He puts it up at Bachman's livery stable, and +I was just going around there now." + +Gallegher's knowledge of the local celebrities of the district +confused the zealous officer of the peace. He surveyed the boy +with a steady stare that would have distressed a less skilful +liar, but Gallegher only shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if +from the cold, and waited with apparent indifference to what the +officer would say next. + +In reality his heart was beating heavily against his side, and he +felt that if he was kept on a strain much longer he would give way +and break down. A second snow-covered form emerged suddenly from +the shadow of the houses. + +"What is it, Reeder?" it asked. + +"Oh, nothing much," replied the first officer. "This kid hadn't +any lamps lit, so I called to him to stop and he didn't do it, so +I whistled to you. It's all right, though. He's just taking it +round to Bachman's. Go ahead," he added, sulkily. + +"Get up!" chirped Gallegher. "Good-night," he added, over his +shoulder. + +Gallegher gave an hysterical little gasp of relief as he trotted +away from the two policemen, and poured bitter maledictions on +their heads for two meddling fools as he went. + +"They might as well kill a man as scare him to death," he said, +with an attempt to get back to his customary flippancy. But the +effort was somewhat pitiful, and he felt guiltily conscious that a +salt, warm tear was creeping slowly down his face, and that a lump +that would not keep down was rising in his throat. + +"'Tain't no fair thing for the whole police force to keep worrying +at a little boy like me," he said, in shame-faced apology. "I'm +not doing nothing wrong, and I'm half froze to death, and yet they +keep a-nagging at me." + +It was so cold that when the boy stamped his feet against the +footboard to keep them warm, sharp pains shot up through his body, +and when he beat his arms about his shoulders, as he had seen real +cabmen do, the blood in his finger-tips tingled so acutely that he +cried aloud with the pain. + +He had often been up that late before, but he had never felt so +sleepy. It was as if some one was pressing a sponge heavy with +chloroform near his face, and he could not fight off the +drowsiness that lay hold of him. + +He saw, dimly hanging above his head, a round disc of light that +seemed like a great moon, and which he finally guessed to be the +clock-face for which he had been on the lookout. He had passed it +before he realized this; but the fact stirred him into wakefulness +again, and when his cab's wheels slipped around the City Hall +corner, he remembered to look up at the other big clock-face that +keeps awake over the railroad station and measures out the night. + +He gave a gasp of consternation when he saw that it was half-past +two, and that there was but ten minutes left to him. This, and the +many electric lights and the sight of the familiar pile of +buildings, startled him into a semi-consciousness of where he was +and how great was the necessity for haste. + +He rose in his seat and called on the horse, and urged it into a +reckless gallop over the slippery asphalt. He considered nothing +else but speed, and looking neither to the left nor right dashed +off down Broad Street into Chestnut, where his course lay straight +away to the office, now only seven blocks distant. + +Gallegher never knew how it began, but he was suddenly assaulted +by shouts on either side, his horse was thrown back on its +haunches, and he found two men in cabmen's livery hanging at its +head, and patting its sides, and calling it by name. And the other +cabmen who have their stand at the corner were swarming about the +carriage, all of them talking and swearing at once, and +gesticulating wildly with their whips. + +They said they knew the cab was McGovern's and they wanted to know +where he was, and why he wasn't on it; they wanted to know where +Gallegher had stolen it, and why he had been such a fool as to +drive it into the arms of its owner's friends; they said that it +was about time that a cab-driver could get off his box to take a +drink without having his cab run away with, and some of them +called loudly for a policeman to take the young thief in charge. + +Gallegher felt as if he had been suddenly dragged into +consciousness out of a bad dream, and stood for a second like a +half-awakened somnambulist. + +They had stopped the cab under an electric light, and its glare +shone coldly down upon the trampled snow and the faces of the men +around him. + +Gallegher bent forward, and lashed savagely at the horse with his +whip. + +"Let me go," he shouted, as he tugged impotently at the reins. +"Let me go, I tell you. I haven't stole no cab, and you've got no +right to stop me. I only want to take it to the Press office," he +begged. "They'll send it back to you all right. They'll pay you +for the trip. I'm not running away with it. The driver's got the +collar--he's 'rested--and I'm only a-going to the Press office. Do +you hear me?" he cried, his voice rising and breaking in a shriek +of passion and disappointment. "I tell you to let go those reins. +Let me go, or I'll kill you. Do you hear me? I'll kill you." And +leaning forward, the boy struck savagely with his long whip at the +faces of the men about the horse's head. + +Some one in the crowd reached up and caught him by the ankles, and +with a quick jerk pulled him off the box, and threw him on to the +street. But he was up on his knees in a moment, and caught at the +man's hand. + +"Don't let them stop me, mister," he cried, "please let me go. I +didn't steal the cab, sir. S'help me, I didn't. I'm telling you +the truth. Take me to the Press office, and they'll prove it to +you. They'll pay you anything you ask 'em. It's only such a little +ways now, and I've come so far, sir. Please don't let them stop +me," he sobbed, clasping the man about the knees. "For Heaven's +sake, mister, let me go!" + + . . . . . . . + +The managing editor of the Press took up the india-rubber +speaking-tube at his side, and answered, "Not yet" to an inquiry +the night editor had already put to him five times within the last +twenty minutes. + +Then he snapped the metal top of the tube impatiently, and went +upstairs. As he passed the door of the local room, he noticed that +the reporters had not gone home, but were sitting about on the +tables and chairs, waiting. They looked up inquiringly as he +passed, and the city editor asked, "Any news yet?" and the +managing editor shook his head. + +The compositors were standing idle in the composing-room, and +their foreman was talking with the night editor. + +"Well?" said that gentleman, tentatively. + +"Well," returned the managing editor, "I don't think we can wait; +do you?" + +"It's a half-hour after time now," said the night editor, "and +we'll miss the suburban trains if we hold the paper back any +longer. We can't afford to wait for a purely hypothetical story. +The chances are all against the fight's having taken place or this +Hade's having been arrested." + +"But if we're beaten on it--" suggested the chief. "But I don't +think that is possible. If there were any story to print, Dwyer +would have had it here before now." + +The managing editor looked steadily down at the floor. + +"Very well," he said, slowly, "we won't wait any longer. Go +ahead," he added, turning to the foreman with a sigh of +reluctance. The foreman whirled himself about, and began to give +his orders; but the two editors still looked at each other +doubtfully. + +As they stood so, there came a sudden shout and the sound of +people running to and fro in the reportorial rooms below. There +was the tramp of many footsteps on the stairs, and above the +confusion they heard the voice of the city editor telling some one +to "run to Madden's and get some brandy, quick." + +No one in the composing-room said anything; but those compositors +who had started to go home began slipping off their overcoats, and +every one stood with his eyes fixed on the door. + +It was kicked open from the outside, and in the doorway stood a +cab-driver and the city editor, supporting between them a pitiful +little figure of a boy, wet and miserable, and with the snow +melting on his clothes and running in little pools to the floor. +"Why, it's Gallegher," said the night editor, in a tone of the +keenest disappointment. + +Gallegher shook himself free from his supporters, and took an +unsteady step forward, his fingers fumbling stiffly with the +buttons of his waistcoat. + +"Mr. Dwyer, sir," he began faintly, with his eyes fixed fearfully +on the managing editor, "he got arrested--and I couldn't get here +no sooner, 'cause they kept a-stopping me, and they took me cab +from under me--but--" he pulled the note-book from his breast and +held it out with its covers damp and limp from the rain, "but we +got Hade, and here's Mr. Dwyer's copy." + +And then he asked, with a queer note in his voice, partly of dread +and partly of hope, "Am I in time, sir?" + +The managing editor took the book, and tossed it to the foreman, +who ripped out its leaves and dealt them out to his men as rapidly +as a gambler deals out cards. + +Then the managing editor stooped and picked Gallegher up in his +arms, and, sitting down, began to unlace his wet and muddy shoes. + +Gallegher made a faint effort to resist this degradation of the +managerial dignity; but his protest was a very feeble one, and his +head fell back heavily on the managing editor's shoulder. + +To Gallegher the incandescent lights began to whirl about in +circles, and to burn in different colors; the faces of the +reporters kneeling before him and chafing his hands and feet grew +dim and unfamiliar, and the roar and rumble of the great presses +in the basement sounded far away, like the murmur of the sea. + +And then the place and the circumstances of it came back to him +again sharply and with sudden vividness. + +Gallegher looked up, with a faint smile, into the managing +editor's face. "You won't turn me off for running away, will you?" +he whispered. + +The managing editor did not answer immediately. His head was bent, +and he was thinking, for some reason or other, of a little boy of +his own, at home in bed. Then he said, quietly, "Not this time, +Gallegher." + +Gallegher's head sank back comfortably on the older man's +shoulder, and he smiled comprehensively at the faces of the young +men crowded around him. "You hadn't ought to," he said, with a +touch of his old impudence, "'cause--I beat the town." + + + + + + +THE JUMPING FROG + +BY + +MARK TWAIN + +This is a story typical of American humor. As William Lyon Phelps +says, "The essentially American qualities of common-sense, energy, +good-humor, and Philistinism fairly shriek from his [Mark Twain's] +pages." Essays on Modern Novelists. + + + + +THE NOTORIOUS JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS [Footnote: Pronounced Cal- +e-va ras.] COUNTY + +[Footnote: From "The Jumping Frog and Other Sketches," by Mark +Twain. Copyright, 1903, by Harper & Bros.] + + +In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me +from the East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon +Wheeler, and inquired after my friend's friend, Leonidas W. +Smiley, as requested to do, and I hereunto append the result. I +have a lurking suspicion that LEONIDAS W. Smiley is a myth; that +my friend never knew such a personage; and that he only +conjectured that if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind +him of his infamous JIM Smiley, and he would go to work and bore +me to death with some exasperating reminiscence of him as long and +as tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was the design, +it succeeded. + +I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of +the dilapidated tavern in the decaying mining camp of Angel's, and +I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression +of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil +countenance. He roused up, and gave me good-day. I told him a +friend of mine had commissioned me to make some inquiries about a +cherished companion of his boyhood named LEONIDAS W. Smiley--REV. +LEONIDAS W. Smiley, a young minister of the Gospel, who he had +heard was at one time a resident of Angel's Camp. I added that if +Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. +Smiley, I would feel under many obligations to him. + +Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with +his chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous +narrative which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never +frowned, he never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to +which he tuned his initial sentence, he never betrayed the +slightest suspicion of enthusiasm; but all through the +interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness +and sincerity, which showed me plainly that, so far from his +imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny about his +story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and admired +its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in finesse. I let him +go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once. + +"Rev. Leonidas W. H'm, Reverend Le--well, there was a feller here +once by the name of JIM Smiley, in the winter of '49--or maybe it +was the spring of '50--I don't recollect exactly, somehow, though +what makes me think it was one or the other is because I remember +the big flume warn't finished when he first come to the camp; but +anyway, he was the curiosest man about always betting on anything +that turned up you ever see, if he could get anybody to bet on the +other side; and if he couldn't he'd change sides. Any way that +suited the other man would suit HIM--any way just so's he got a +bet, HE was satisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky; he +'most always come out winner. He was always ready and laying for a +chance; there couldn't be no solit'ry thing mentioned but that +feller'd offer to bet on it, and take any side you please, as I +was just telling you. If there was a horse-race, you'd find him +flush or you'd find him busted at the end of it; if there was a +dogfight, he'd bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he'd bet on +it; if there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why, if there +was two birds setting on a fence, he would bet you which one would +fly first; or if there was a camp-meeting, he would be there +reg'lar to bet on Parson Walker, which he judged to be the best +exhorter about here, and so he was, too, and a good man. If he +even see a straddle-bug start to go anywheres, he would bet you +how long it would take him to get to--to wherever he was going to, +and if you took him up, he would foller that straddle-bug to +Mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how +long he was on the road. Lots of the boys here has seen that +Smiley, and can tell you about him. Why, it never made no +difference to HIM--he'd bet on ANY thing--the dangdest feller. +Parson Walker's wife laid very sick once, for a good while, and it +seemed as if they warn't going to save her; but one morning he +come in, and Smiley up and asked him how she was, and he said she +was consid'able better--thank the Lord for his inf'nite mercy--and +coming on so smart that with the blessing of Prov'dence she'd get +well yet; and Smiley, before he thought, says: 'Well, I'll resk +two-and-a-half she don't anyway.' + +"Thish-yer Smiley had a mare--the boys called her the fifteen- +minute nag, but that was only in fun, you know, because, of +course, she was faster than that--and he used to win money on that +horse, for all she was so slow and always had the asthma, or the +distemper, or the consumption, or something of that kind. They +used to give her two or three hundred yards start, and then pass +her under way; but always at the fag end of the race she'd get +excited and desperate like, and come cavorting and straddling up, +and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the air, and +sometimes out to one side among the fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e +dust and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and +blowing her nose--and ALWAYS fetch up at the stand just about a +neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down. + +"And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at him you'd +think he warn't worth a cent but to set around and look ornery and +lay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up +on him he was a different dog; his under-jaw'd begin to stick out +like the fo'castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover and +shine like the furnaces. And a dog might tackle him and bully-rag +him, and bite him and throw him over his shoulder two or three +times, and Andrew Jackson--which was the name of the pup--Andrew +Jackson would never let on but what HE was satisfied, and hadn't +expected nothing else--and the bets being doubled and doubled on +the other side all the time, till the money was all up; and then +all of a sudden he would grab that other dog jest by the j'int of +his hind leg and freeze to it--not chaw, you understand, but only +just grip and hang on till they throwed up the sponge, if it was a +year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he harnessed +a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been +sawed off in a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far +enough, and the money was all up, and he come to make a snatch for +his pet holt, he see in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and how +the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he 'peared +surprised, and then he looked sorter discouraged-like and didn't +try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He +give Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it +was HIS fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for +him to take holt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and +then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good +pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for +hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him and he had genius +--I know it, because he hadn't no opportunities to speak of, and it +don't stand to reason that a dog could make such a fight as he +could under them circumstances if he hadn't no talent. It always +makes me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of his'n, and +the way it turned out. + +"Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken cocks, and +tomcats, and all them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and +you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. +He ketched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he +cal'lated to educate him; and so he never done nothing for three +months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump. And +you bet you he DID learn him, too. He'd give him a little punch +behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the +air like a doughnut--see him turn one summerset, or maybe a +couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all +right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of ketching +flies, and kep' him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly +every time as fur as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog +wanted was education, and he could do 'most anything--and I +believe him. Why, I've seen him set Dan'l Webster down here on +this floor--Dan'l Webster was the name of the frog--and sing out, +'Flies, Dan'l, flies!' and quicker'n you could wink he'd spring +straight up and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down +on the floor ag'in as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to +scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent +as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any more'n any frog might +do. You never see a frog so modest and straightfor'ard as he was, +for all he was so gifted. And when it come to fair and square +jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one +straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a +dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it come +to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a +red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, +for fellers that had travelled and been everywheres all said he +laid over any frog that ever THEY see. + +"Well, Smiley kep' the beast in a little lattice box, and he used +to fetch him down-town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a +feller--a stranger in the camp, he was--come acrost him with his +box, and says: + +"'What might it be that you've got in the box?' + +"And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like: 'It might be a parrot, +or it might be a canary, maybe, but it ain't--it's only just a +frog.' + +"And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it +round this way and that, and says: 'H'm--so 'tis. Well, what's HE +good for?' + +"'Well,' Smiley says, easy and careless, 'he's good enough for ONE +thing, I should judge--he can outjump any frog in Calaveras +county.' + +"The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular +look, and give it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, +'Well,' he says, 'I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any +better'n any other frog.' + +"'Maybe you don't,' Smiley says. 'Maybe you understand frogs and +maybe you don't understand 'em; maybe you've had experience, and +maybe you ain't only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I've got MY +opinion, and I'll resk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog +in Calaveras county.' + +"And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, +'Well, I'm only a stranger here, and I ain't got no frog; but if I +had a frog, I'd bet you.' + +"And then Smiley says, 'That's all right--that's all right--if +you'll hold my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog.' And so +the feller took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with +Smiley's, and set down to wait. + +"So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, +and then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a +teaspoon and filled him full of quail shot--filled him pretty near +up to his chin--and set him on the floor. Smiley he went to the +swamp and slopped around in the mud for a long time, and finally +he ketched a frog, and fetched him in, and give him to this +feller, and says: + +"'Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his +forepaws just even with Dan'l's, and I'll give the word.' Then he +says, 'One--two--three--GIT!' and him and the feller touched up +the frogs from behind, and the new frog hopped off lively, but +Dan'l give a heave, and hysted up his shoulders--so--like a +Frenchman, but it warn't no use--he couldn't budge; he was planted +as solid as a church, and he couldn't no more stir than if he was +anchored out. Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was +disgusted too, but he didn't have no idea what the matter was, of +course. + +"The feller took the money and started away; and when he was going +out at the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder--so +--at Dan'l, and says again, very deliberate, 'Well,' he says, '_I_ +don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other +frog.' + +"Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan'l a +long time, and at last he says, 'I do wonder what in the nation +that frog throw'd off for--I wonder if there ain't something the +matter with him--he 'pears to look mighty baggy, somehow,' And he +ketched Dan'l by the nap of the neck, and hefted him, and says, +'Why, blame my cats if he don't weigh five pound!' and turned him +upside down and he belched out a double handful of shot. And then +he see how it was, and he was the maddest man--he set the frog +down and took out after that feller, but he never ketched him. +And--" + +[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and +got up to see what was wanted.] And turning to me as he moved +away, he said: "Just set where you are, stranger, and rest easy--I +ain't going to be gone a second." + +But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the +history of the enterprising vagabond JIM Smiley would be likely to +afford me much information concerning the Rev. LEONIDAS W. Smiley, +and so I started away. + +At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, and he button- +holed me and re-commenced: + +"Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yeller one-eyed cow that didn't have +no tail, only just a short stump like a bannanner, and--" + +However, lacking both time and inclination, I did not wait to hear +about the afflicted cow, but took my leave. + + + + + + +THE LADY OR THE TIGER + +BY + +FRANK R. STOCKTON + +This is an illustration of the symmetrical plot. It challenges the +constructive imagination of the reader to search the story for the +evidence that will lead to a logical conclusion. + + + + +THE LADY OR THE TIGER + +[Footnote: From "The Lady or the Tiger?" by Frank R. Stockton. +Copyright, 1886, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Copyright, 1914, by +Marie Louise and Frances A. Stockton.] + + +In the very olden time, there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose +ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the +progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, +florid, and untrammelled, as became the half of him which was +barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an +authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied +fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and +when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When +every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly +in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but +whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of +their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing +pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight, and crush +down uneven places. + +Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become +semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of +manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined +and cultured. + +But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. +The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an +opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to +enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict +between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far +better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the +people. This vast amphitheatre, with its encircling galleries, its +mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic +justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the +decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance. + +When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to +interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed +day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's +arena--a structure which well deserved its name; for, although its +form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely +from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no +tradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, +and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and +action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism. + +When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, +surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state +on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him +opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheatre. +Directly opposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space, +were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty +and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these +doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased. +He was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the +aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened +the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and +most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon +him, and tore him to pieces, as a punishment for his guilt. The +moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful +iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired +mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast +audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly +their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, +or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate. + +But if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth +from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that +his Majesty could select among his fair subjects; and to this lady +he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It +mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or +that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own +selection. The king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to +interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The +exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and +in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, +followed by a band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing +joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamic measure, +advanced to where the pair stood side by side, and the wedding was +promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang +forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the +innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, +led his bride to his home. + +This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice. +Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out +of which door would come the lady. He opened either he pleased, +without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he +was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came +out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of +this tribunal were not only fair--they were positively +determinate. The accused person was instantly punished if he found +himself guilty, and if innocent he was rewarded on the spot, +whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments +of the king's arena. + +The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered +together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether +they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. +This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which +it could not otherwise have attained. Thus the masses were +entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community +could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan; for did not +the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands? + +This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most +florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his +own. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and +was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a +young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common +to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens. This +royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was +handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, +and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it +to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on +happily for many months, until, one day, the king happened to +discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to +his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into +prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. +This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his +Majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the +workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a +case occurred--never before had a subject dared to love the +daughter of a king. In after years such things became commonplace +enough, but then they were, in no slight degree, novel and +startling. + +The tiger cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage +and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be +selected for the arena, and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty +throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges, +in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case +fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, +everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged +had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor +any one else thought of denying the fact. But the king would not +think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the +workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and +satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would +be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in +watching the course of events which would determine whether or not +the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the +princess. + +The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, +and thronged the great galleries of the arena, while crowds, +unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside +walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the +twin doors--those fateful portals, so terrible in their +similarity! + +All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal +party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. +Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum +of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so +grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved +him! What a terrible thing for him to be there! + +As the youth advanced into the arena, he turned, as the custom +was, to bow to the king. But he did not think at all of that royal +personage; his eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the +right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism +in her nature, it is probable that lady would not have been there. +But her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent +on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the +moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide +his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or +day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with +it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character +than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, +she had done what no other person had done--she had possessed +herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two +rooms behind those doors stood the cage of the tiger, with its +open front and in which waited the lady. Through these thick +doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was +impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to +the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. +But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret +to the princess. + +Not only did she know in which room stood the lady, ready to +emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but +she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest +of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of +the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of +aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. +Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair +creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her +lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived and +even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together. It +was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief +space. It may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could +she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her +eyes to the loved one of the princess, and, with all the intensity +of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of +wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and +trembled behind that silent door. + +When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as +she sat there paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of +anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception +which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind +which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He +had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his +soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made +plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even +to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any +element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in +discovering this mystery, and the moment he looked upon her, he +saw she had succeeded. + +Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question, +"Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he +stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked +in a flash; it must be answered in another. + +Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised +her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No +one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man +in the arena. + +He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the +empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, +every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest +hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it. + +Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of +that door, or did the lady? + +The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to +answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us +through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to +find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of +the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, +semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the +combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who +should have him? + +How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started +in wild horror and covered her face with her hands as she thought +of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited +the cruel fangs of the tiger! + +But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in +her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth and torn her hair +when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door +of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen +him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling +eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole +frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard +the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the +happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous +followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife +before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away +together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous +shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing +shriek was lost and drowned! + +Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for +her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity? + +And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood! + +Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been +made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had +known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, +and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to +the right. + +The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, +and it is not for me to presume to set up myself as the one person +able to answer it. So I leave it with all of you: Which came out +of the opened door--the lady or the tiger? + + + + + + +THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT + +BY + +FRANCIS BRET HARTE + +This is often called a story of local color. And it is. It is rich +in the characteristics of California in the gold-seeking days. It +is also classified as a story of setting. And it is. The setting +is a determining factor in the conduct of these outcasts. They are +men and women as inevitably drawn to the mining camp as the ill- +fated ship in "The Arabian Nights" was attracted to the lode-stone +mountain, and with as much certainty of shipwreck. These the +blizzard of the west gathers into its embrace, and compels them to +reveal their better selves. But it is more than a story of local +color and of setting. It is also an illustration of the artistic +blending of plot, character, and setting, and of the magical power +of youth to see life at the time truly enough, but to transform it +later into something fine and noble. + + + + +THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT + +[Footnote: From "The Luck of Roaring Camp," by Francis Bret Harte. +Copyright, 1906, by Houghton Mifflin Company. Reprinted by special +arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized +publishers of Bret Harte's works.] + + +As Mr. John Oakhurst, gambler, stepped into the main street of +Poker Flat on the morning of the twenty-third of November, 1850, +he was conscious of a change in its moral atmosphere since the +preceding night. Two or three men, conversing earnestly together, +ceased as he approached, and exchanged significant glances. There +was a Sabbath lull in the air, which, in a settlement unused to +Sabbath influences, looked ominous. + +Mr. Oakhurst's calm, handsome face betrayed small concern of these +indications. Whether he was conscious of any predisposing cause, +was another question. "I reckon they're after somebody," he +reflected; "likely it's me." He returned to his pocket the +handkerchief with which he had been whipping away the red dust of +Poker Flat from his neat boots, and quietly discharged his mind of +any further conjecture. + +In point of fact, Poker Flat was "after somebody." It had lately +suffered the loss of several thousand dollars, two valuable +horses, and a prominent citizen. It was experiencing a spasm of +virtuous reaction, quite as lawless and ungovernable as any of the +acts that had provoked it. A secret committee had determined to +rid the town of all improper persons. This was done permanently in +regard of two men who were then hanging from the boughs of a +sycamore in the gulch, and temporarily in the banishment of +certain other objectionable characters. I regret to say that some +of these were ladies. It is but due to the sex, however, to state +that their impropriety was professional, and it was only in such +easily established standards of evil that Poker Flat ventured to +sit in judgment. + +Mr. Oakhurst was right in supposing that he was included in this +category. A few of the committee had urged hanging him as a +possible example, and a sure method of reimbursing themselves from +his pockets of the sums he had won from them. "It's agin justice," +said Jim Wheeler, "to let this yer young man from Roaring Camp--an +entire stranger--carry away our money." But a crude sentiment of +equity residing in the breasts of those who had been fortunate +enough to win from Mr. Oakhurst overruled this narrower local +prejudice. + +Mr. Oakhurst received his sentence with philosophic calmness, none +the less coolly that he was aware of the hesitation of his judges. +He was too much of a gambler not to accept Fate. With him life was +at best an uncertain game, and he recognized the usual percentage +in favor of the dealer. + +A body of armed men accompanied the deported wickedness of Poker +Flat to the outskirts of the settlement. Besides Mr. Oakhurst, who +was known to be a coolly desperate man, and for whose intimidation +the armed escort was intended, the expatriated party consisted of +a young woman familiarly known as "The Duchess"; another, who had +gained the infelicitous title of "Mother Shipton"; and "Uncle +Billy," a suspected sluice-robber and confirmed drunkard. The +cavalcade provoked no comments from the spectators, nor was any +word uttered by the escort. Only, when the gulch which marked the +uttermost limit of Poker Flat was reached, the leader spoke +briefly and to the point. The exiles were forbidden to return at +the peril of their lives. + +As the escort disappeared, their pent-up feelings found vent in a +few hysterical tears from "The Duchess," some bad language from +Mother Shipton, and a Parthian volley of expletives from Uncle +Billy. The philosophic Oakhurst alone remained silent. He listened +calmly to Mother Shipton's desire to cut somebody's heart out, to +the repeated statements of "The Duchess" that she would die in the +road, and to the alarming oaths that seemed to be bumped out of +Uncle Billy as he rode forward. With the easy good-humor +characteristic of his class, he insisted upon exchanging his own +riding-horse, "Five Spot," for the sorry mule which the Duchess +rode. But even this act did not draw the party into any closer +sympathy. The young woman readjusted her somewhat draggled plumes +with a feeble, faded coquetry; Mother Shipton eyed the possessor +of "Five Spot" with malevolence, and Uncle Billy included the +whole party in one sweeping anathema. + +The road to Sandy Bar--a camp that, not having as yet experienced +the regenerating influences of Poker Flat, consequently seemed to +offer some invitation to the emigrants--lay over a steep mountain +range. It was distant a day's severe journey. In that advanced +season, the party soon passed out of the moist, temperate regions +of the foot-hills into the dry, cold, bracing air of the Sierras. +The trail was narrow and difficult. At noon the Duchess, rolling +out of her saddle upon the ground, declared her intention of going +no farther, and the party halted. + +The spot was singularly wild and impressive. A wooded +amphitheatre, surrounded on three sides by precipitous cliffs of +naked granite, sloped gently toward the crest of another precipice +that overlooked the valley. It was undoubtedly the most suitable +spot for a camp, had camping been advisable. But Mr. Oakhurst knew +that scarcely half the journey to Sandy Bar was accomplished, and +the party were not equipped or provisioned for delay. This fact he +pointed out to his companions curtly, with a philosophic +commentary on the folly of "throwing up their hand before the game +was played out." But they were furnished with liquor, which in +this emergency stood them in place of food, fuel, rest, and +prescience. In spite of his remonstrances, it was not long before +they were more or less under its influence. Uncle Billy passed +rapidly from a bellicose state into one of stupor, the Duchess +became maudlin, and Mother Shipton snored. Mr. Oakhurst alone +remained erect, leaning against a rock, calmly surveying them. + +Mr. Oakhurst did not drink. It interfered with a profession which +required coolness, impassiveness, and presence of mind, and, in +his own language, he "couldn't afford it." As he gazed at his +recumbent fellow-exiles, the loneliness begotten of his pariah- +trade, his habits of life, his very vices, for the first time +seriously oppressed him. He bestirred himself in dusting his black +clothes, washing his hands and face, and other acts characteristic +of his studiously neat habits, and for a moment forgot his +annoyance. The thought of deserting his weaker and more pitiable +companions never perhaps occurred to him. Yet he could not help +feeling the want of that excitement which, singularly enough, was +most conducive to that calm equanimity for which he was notorious. +He looked at the gloomy walls that rose a thousand feet sheer +above the circling pines around him; at the sky, ominously +clouded; at the valley below, already deepening into shadow. And, +doing so, suddenly he heard his own name called. + +A horseman slowly ascended the trail. In the fresh, open face of +the new-comer Mr. Oakhurst recognized Tom Simson, otherwise known +as "The Innocent" of Sandy Bar. He had met him some months before +over a "little game," and had, with perfect equanimity, won the +entire fortune--amounting to some forty dollars--of that guileless +youth. After the game was finished, Mr. Oakhurst drew the youthful +speculator behind the door and thus addressed him: "Tommy, you're +a good little man, but you can't gamble worth a cent. Don't try it +over again." He then handed him his money back, pushed him gently +from the room, and so made a devoted slave of Tom Simson. + +There was a remembrance of this in his boyish and enthusiastic +greeting of Mr. Oakhurst. He had started, he said, to go to Poker +Flat to seek his fortune. Alone? No, not exactly alone; in fact +--a giggle--he had run away with Piney Woods. Didn't Mr. Oakhurst +remember Piney? She that used to wait on the table at the +Temperance House? They had been engaged a long time, but old Jake +Woods had objected, and so they had run away, and were going to +Poker Flat to be married, and here they were. And they were tired +out, and how lucky it was they had found a place to camp and +company. All this the Innocent delivered rapidly, while Piney--a +stout, comely damsel of fifteen--emerged from behind the pine- +tree, where she had been blushing unseen, and rode to the side of +her lover. + +Mr. Oakhurst seldom troubled himself with sentiment, still less +with propriety; but he had a vague idea that the situation was not +felicitous. He retained, however, his presence of mind +sufficiently to kick Uncle Billy, who was about to say something, +and Uncle Billy was sober enough to recognize in Mr. Oakhurst's +kick a superior power that would not bear trifling. He then +endeavored to dissuade Tom Simson from delaying further, but in +vain. He even pointed out the fact that there was no provision, +nor means of making a camp. But, unluckily, "The Innocent" met +this objection by assuring the party that he was provided with an +extra mule loaded with provisions, and by the discovery of a rude +attempt at a log-house near the trail. "Piney can stay with Mrs. +Oakhurst," said the Innocent, pointing to the Duchess, "and I can +shift for myself." + +Nothing but Mr. Oakhurst's admonishing foot saved Uncle Billy from +bursting into a roar of laughter. As it was, he felt compelled to +retire up the canon until he could recover his gravity. There he +confided the joke to the tall pine-trees, with many slaps of his +leg, contortions of his face, and the usual profanity. But when he +returned to the party, he found them seated by a fire--for the air +had grown strangely chill and the sky overcast--in apparently +amicable conversation. Piney was actually talking in an impulsive, +girlish fashion to the Duchess, who was listening with an interest +and animation she had not shown for many days. The Innocent was +holding forth, apparently with equal effect, to Mr. Oakhurst and +Mother Shipton, who was actually relaxing into amiability. "Is +this yer a d--d picnic?" said Uncle Billy, with inward scorn, as +he surveyed the sylvan group, the glancing fire-light, and the +tethered animals in the foreground. Suddenly an idea mingled with +the alcoholic fumes that disturbed his brain. It was apparently of +a jocular nature, for he felt impelled to slap his leg again and +cram his fist into his mouth. + +As the shadows crept slowly up the mountain, a slight breeze +rocked the tops of the pine-trees, and moaned through their long +and gloomy aisles. The ruined cabin, patched and covered with pine +boughs, was set apart for the ladies. As the lovers parted, they +unaffectedly exchanged a kiss, so honest and sincere that it might +have been heard above the swaying pines. The frail Duchess and the +malevolent Mother Shipton were probably too stunned to remark upon +this last evidence of simplicity, and so turned without a word to +the hut. The fire was replenished, the men lay down before the +door, and in a few minutes were asleep. + +Mr. Oakhurst was a light sleeper. Toward morning he awoke benumbed +and cold. As he stirred the dying fire, the wind, which was now +blowing strongly, brought to his cheek that which caused the blood +to leave it,--snow! + +He started to his feet with the intention of awakening the +sleepers, for there was no time to lose. But turning to where +Uncle Billy had been lying, he found him gone. A suspicion leaped +to his brain and a curse to his lips. He ran to the spot where the +mules had been tethered; they were no longer there. The tracks +were already rapidly disappearing in the snow. + +The momentary excitement brought Mr. Oakhurst back to the fire +with his usual calm. He did not waken the sleepers. The Innocent +slumbered peacefully, with a smile on his good-humored, freckled +face; the virgin Piney slept beside her frailer sisters as sweetly +as though attended by celestial guardians, and Mr. Oakhurst, +drawing his blanket over his shoulders, stroked his mustachios and +waited for the dawn. It came slowly in a whirling mist of +snowflakes, that dazzled and confused the eye. What could be seen +of the landscape appeared magically changed. He looked over the +valley, and summed up the present and future in two words,-- +"Snowed in!" + +A careful inventory of the provisions, which, fortunately for the +party, had been stored within the hut, and so escaped the +felonious fingers of Uncle Billy, disclosed the fact that with +care and prudence they might last ten days longer. "That is," said +Mr. Oakhurst, sotto voce to the Innocent, "if you're willing to +board us. If you ain't--and perhaps you'd better not--you can wait +till Uncle Billy gets back with provisions." For some occult +reason, Mr. Oakhurst could not bring himself to disclose Uncle +Billy's rascality, and so offered the hypothesis that he had +wandered from the camp and had accidentally stampeded the animals. +He dropped a warning to the Duchess and Mother Shipton, who of +course knew the facts of their associate's defection. "They'll +find out the truth about us ALL, when they find out anything," he +added, significantly, "and there's no good frightening them now." + +Tom Simson not only put all his worldly store at the disposal of +Mr. Oakhurst, but seemed to enjoy the prospect of their enforced +seclusion. "We'll have a good camp for a week, and then the +snow'll melt, and we'll all go back together." The cheerful gaiety +of the young man and Mr. Oakhurst's calm infected the others. The +Innocent, with the aid of pine boughs, extemporized a thatch for +the roofless cabin, and the Duchess directed Piney in the +rearrangement of the interior with a taste and tact that opened +the blue eyes of that provincial maiden to their fullest extent. +"I reckon now you're used to fine things at Poker Flat," said +Piney. The Duchess turned away sharply to conceal something that +reddened her cheek through its professional tint, and Mother +Shipton requested Piney not to "chatter." But when Mr. Oakhurst +returned from a weary search for the trail, he heard the sound of +happy laughter echoed from the rocks. He stopped in some alarm, +and his thoughts first naturally reverted to the whiskey, which he +had prudently cached. "And yet it don't somehow sound like +whiskey," said the gambler. It was not until he caught sight of +the blazing fire through the still blinding storm, and the group +around it, that he settled to the conviction that it was "square +fun." + +Whether Mr. Oakhurst had cached his cards with the whiskey as +something debarred the free access of the community, I cannot say. +It was certain that, in Mother Shipton's words, he "didn't say +cards once" during that evening. Haply the time was beguiled by an +accordion, produced somewhat ostentatiously by Tom Simson, from +his pack. Notwithstanding some difficulties attending the +manipulation of this instrument, Piney Woods managed to pluck +several reluctant melodies from its keys, to an accompaniment by +the Innocent on a pair of bone castanets. But the crowning +festivity of the evening was reached in a rude camp-meeting hymn, +which the lovers, joining hands, sang with great earnestness and +vociferation. I fear that a certain defiant tone and Covenanter's +swing to its chorus, rather than any devotional quality, caused it +speedily to infect the others, who at last joined in the refrain: + +"'I'm proud to live in the service of the Lord, And I'm bound to +die in His army.'" + +The pines rocked, the storm eddied and whirled above the miserable +group, and the flames of their altar leaped heavenward, as if in +token of the vow. + +At midnight the storm abated, the rolling clouds parted, and the +stars glittered keenly above the sleeping camp. Mr. Oakhurst, +whose professional habits had enabled him to live on the smallest +possible amount of sleep, in dividing the watch with Tom Simson, +somehow managed to take upon himself the greater part of that +duty. He excused himself to the Innocent, by saying that he had +"often been a week without sleep." "Doing what?" asked Tom. +"Poker!" replied Oakhurst, sententiously; "when a man gets a +streak of luck,--nigger-luck,--he don't get tired. The luck gives +in first. Luck," continued the gambler, reflectively, "is a mighty +queer thing. All you know about it for certain is that it's bound +to change. And it's finding out when it's going to change that +makes you. We've had a streak of bad luck since we left Poker +Flat--you come along, and slap you get into it, too. If you can +hold your cards right along you're all right. For," added the +gambler, with cheerful irrelevance, + +"'I'm proud to live in the service of the Lord, And I'm bound to +die in His army.'" + +The third day came, and the sun, looking through the white- +curtained valley, saw the outcasts divide their slowly decreasing +store of provisions for the morning meal. It was one of the +peculiarities of that mountain climate that its rays diffused a +kindly warmth over the wintry landscape, as if in regretful +commiseration of the past. But it revealed drift on drift of snow +piled high around the hut; a hopeless, uncharted, trackless sea of +white lying below the rocky shores to which the castaways still +clung. Through the marvellously clear air, the smoke of the +pastoral village of Poker Flat rose miles away. Mother Shipton saw +it, and from a remote pinnacle of her rocky fastness, hurled in +that direction a final malediction. It was her last vituperative +attempt, and perhaps for that reason was invested with a certain +degree of sublimity. It did her good, she privately informed the +Duchess. "Just you go out there and cuss, and see." She then set +herself to the task of amusing "the child," as she and the Duchess +were pleased to call Piney. Piney was no chicken, but it was a +soothing and ingenious theory of the pair thus to account for the +fact that she didn't swear and wasn't improper. + +When night crept up again through the gorges, the reedy notes of +the accordion rose and fell in fitful spasms and long-drawn gasps +by the flickering campfire. But music failed to fill entirely the +aching void left by insufficient food, and a new diversion was +proposed by Piney--story-telling. Neither Mr. Oakhurst nor his +female companions caring to relate their personal experiences, +this plan would have failed, too, but for the Innocent. Some +months before he had chanced upon a stray copy of Mr. Pope's +ingenious translation of the Iliad. He now proposed to narrate the +principal incidents of that poem--having thoroughly mastered the +argument and fairly forgotten the words--in the current vernacular +of Sandy Bar. And so for the rest of that night the Homeric +demigods again walked the earth. Trojan bully and wily Greek +wrestled in the winds, and the great pines in the canon seemed to +bow to the wrath of the son of Peleus. Mr. Oakhurst listened with +quiet satisfaction. Most especially was he interested in the fate +of "Ash-heels," as the Innocent persisted in denominating the +"swift-footed Achilles." + +So with small food and much of Homer and the accordion, a week +passed over the heads of the outcasts. The sun again forsook them, +and again from leaden skies the snowflakes were sifted over the +land. Day by day closer around them drew the snowy circle, until +at last they looked from their prison over drifted walls of +dazzling white, that towered twenty feet above their heads. It +became more and more difficult to replenish their fires, even from +the fallen trees beside them, now half hidden in the drifts. And +yet no one complained. The lovers turned from the dreary prospect +and looked into each other's eyes, and were happy. Mr. Oakhurst +settled himself coolly to the losing game before him. The Duchess, +more cheerful than she had been, assumed the care of Piney. Only +Mother Shipton--once the strongest of the party--seemed to sicken +and fade. At midnight on the tenth day she called Oakhurst to her +side. "I'm going," she said, in a voice of querulous weakness, +"but don't say anything about it. Don't waken the kids. Take the +bundle from under my head and open it." Mr. Oakhurst did so. It +contained Mother Shipton's rations for the last week, untouched. +"Give 'em to the child," she said, pointing to the sleeping Piney. +"You've starved yourself," said the gambler. "That's what they +call it," said the woman, querulously, as she lay down again, and, +turning her face to the wall, passed quietly away. + +The accordion and the bones were put aside that day, and Homer was +forgotten. When the body of Mother Shipton had been committed to +the snow, Mr. Oakhurst took the Innocent aside, and showed him a +pair of snowshoes, which he had fashioned from the old pack- +saddle. "There's one chance in a hundred to save her yet," he +said, pointing to Piney; "but it's there," he added, pointing +toward Poker Flat. "If you can reach there in two days she's +safe." "And you?" asked Tom Simson. "I'll stay here," was the curt +reply. + +The lovers parted with a long embrace. "You are not going, too?" +said the Duchess, as she saw Mr. Oakhurst apparently waiting to +accompany him. "As far as the canon," he replied. He turned +suddenly, and kissed the Duchess, leaving her pallid face aflame, +and her trembling limbs rigid with amazement. + +Night came, but not Mr. Oakhurst. It brought the storm again and +the whirling snow. Then the Duchess, feeding the fire, found that +some one had quietly piled beside the hut enough fuel to last a +few days longer. The tears rose to her eyes, but she hid them from +Piney. + +The women slept but little. In the morning, looking into each +other's faces, they read their fate. Neither spoke; but Piney, +accepting the position of the stronger, drew near and placed her +arm around the Duchess's waist. They kept this attitude for the +rest of the day. That night the storm reached its greatest fury, +and, rending asunder the protecting pines, invaded the very hut. + +Toward morning they found themselves unable to feed the fire, +which gradually died away. As the embers slowly blackened, the +Duchess crept closer to Piney, and broke the silence of many +hours: "Piney, can you pray?" "No, dear," said Piney, simply. The +Duchess, without knowing exactly why, felt relieved, and, putting +her head upon Piney's shoulder, spoke no more. And so reclining, +the younger and purer pillowing the head of her soiled sister upon +her virgin breast, they fell asleep. + +The wind lulled as if it feared to waken them. Feathery drifts of +snow, shaken from the long pine boughs, flew like white-winged +birds, and settled about them as they slept. The moon through the +rifted clouds looked down upon what had been the camp. But all +human stain, all trace of earthly travail, was hidden beneath the +spotless mantle mercifully flung from above. + +They slept all that day and the next, nor did they waken when +voices and footsteps broke the silence of the camp. And when +pitying fingers brushed the snow from their wan faces, you could +scarcely have told from the equal peace that dwelt upon them, +which was she that had sinned. Even the Law of Poker Flat +recognized this, and turned away, leaving them still locked in +each other's arms. + +But at the head of the gulch, on one of the largest pine-trees, +they found the deuce of clubs pinned to the bark with a bowie +knife. It bore the following, written in pencil, in a firm hand: + +BENEATH THIS TREE LIES THE BODY OF JOHN OAKHURST, WHO STRUCK A +STREAK OF BAD LUCK ON THE 2ND OF NOVEMBER, 1850, AND HANDED IN HIS +CHECKS ON THE 7TH DECEMBER, 1850. + + And, pulseless and cold, with a Derringer by his side and a +bullet in his heart, though still calm as in life, beneath the +snow lay he who was at once the strongest and yet the weakest of +the outcasts of Poker Flat. + + + + + + +THE REVOLT OF "MOTHER" + +BY + +MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN + +This is a story of character against a New England background. +Each character is worked out with the delicacy and minuteness of a +cameo. Each is intensely realistic, yet, as in the cameo, palely +flushed with romance. "Mother," along with her originality of +action and long-concealed ideals, has the saving quality of +common-sense, which makes its powerful appeal to the daily +realities of life. Thus when "Father," dazed by the unexpected +revelation of the character and ideals of the woman he has +misunderstood for forty years, stands uncertain whether to assert +or to surrender his long-established supremacy, she decides him in +her favor by a practical suggestion of acquiescence: "You'd better +take your coat off an' get washed--there's the wash-basin--an' +then we'll have supper." + + + + +THE REVOLT OF "MOTHER" + +[Footnote: From "A New England Nun and Other Stories," by Mary E. +Wilkins Freeman. Copyright, 1891, by Harper & Bros. Reprinted by +special permission.] + + +"Father!" + +"What is it?" + +"What are them men diggin' over there in the field for?" + +There was a sudden dropping and enlarging of the lower part of the +old man's face, as if some heavy weight had settled therein; he +shut his mouth tight, and went on harnessing the great bay mare. +He hustled the collar on to her neck with a jerk. + +"Father!" + +The old man slapped the saddle upon the mare's back. + +"Look here, father, I want to know what them men are diggin' over +in the field for, an' I'm goin' to know." + +"I wish you'd go into the house, mother, an' 'tend to your own +affairs," the old man said then. He ran his words together, and +his speech was almost as inarticulate as a growl. + +But the woman understood; it was her most native tongue. "I ain't +goin' into the house till you tell me what them men are doin' over +there in the field," said she. + +Then she stood waiting. She was a small woman, short and straight- +waisted like a child in her brown cotton gown. Her forehead was +mild and benevolent between the smooth curves of gray hair; there +were meek downward lines about her nose and mouth; but her eyes, +fixed upon the old man, looked as if the meekness had been the +result of her own will, never of the will of another. + +They were in the barn, standing before the wide-open doors. The +spring air, full of the smell of growing grass and unseen +blossoms, came in their faces. The deep yard in front was littered +with farm wagons and piles of wood, on the edges, close to the +fence and the house, the grass was a vivid green, and there were +some dandelions. + +The old man glanced doggedly at his wife as he tightened the last +buckles on the harness. She looked as immovable to him as one of +the rocks in his pastureland, bound to the earth with generations +of blackberry vines. He slapped the reins over the horse, and +started forth from the barn. + +"FATHER!" said she. + +The old man pulled up. "What is it?" + +"I want to know what them men are diggin' over there in that field +for." + +"They're diggin' a cellar, I s'pose, if you've got to know." + +"A cellar for what?" + +"A barn." + +"A barn? You ain't goin' to build a barn over there where we was +goin' to have a house, father?" + +The old man said not another word. He hurried the horse into the +farm wagon, and clattered out of the yard, jouncing as sturdily on +his seat as a boy. + +The woman stood a moment looking after him, then she went out of +the barn across a corner of the yard to the house. The house, +standing at right angles with the great barn and a long reach of +sheds and out-buildings, was infinitesimal compared with them. It +was scarcely as commodious for people as the little boxes under +the barn eaves were for doves. + +A pretty girl's face, pink and delicate as a flower, was looking +out of one of the house windows. She was watching three men who +were digging over in the field which bounded the yard near the +road line. She turned quietly when the woman entered. + +"What are they digging for, mother?" said she. "Did he tell you?" + +"They're diggin' for--a cellar for a new barn." + +"Oh, mother, he ain't going to build another barn?" + +"That's what he says." + +A boy stood before the kitchen glass combing his hair. He combed +slowly and painstakingly, arranging his brown hair in a smooth +hillock over his forehead. He did not seem to pay any attention to +the conversation. + +"Sammy, did you know father was going to build a new barn?" asked +the girl. + +The boy combed assiduously. + +"Sammy!" + +He turned, and showed a face like his father's under his smooth +crest of hair. "Yes, I s'pose I did," he said, reluctantly. + +"How long have you known it?" asked his mother. + +"'Bout three months, I guess." + +"Why didn't you tell of it?" + +"Didn't think 'twould do no good." + +"I don't see what father wants another barn for," said the girl, +in her sweet, slow voice. She turned again to the window, and +stared out at the digging men in the field. Her tender, sweet face +was full of a gentle distress. Her forehead was as bald and +innocent as a baby's, with the light hair strained back from it in +a row of curl-papers. She was quite large, but her soft curves did +not look as if they covered muscles. + +Her mother looked sternly at the boy. "Is he goin' to buy more +cows?" said she. + +The boy did not reply; he was tying his shoes. + +"Sammy, I want you to tell me if he's goin' to buy more cows." + +"I s'pose he is." + +"How many?" + +"Four, I guess." + +His mother said nothing more. She went into the pantry, and there +was a clatter of dishes. The boy got his cap from a nail behind +the door, took an old arithmetic from the shelf, and started for +school. He was lightly built, but clumsy. He went out of the yard +with a curious spring in the hips, that made his loose home-made +jacket tilt up in the rear. + +The girl went to the sink, and began to wash the dishes that were +piled up there. Her mother came promptly out of the pantry, and +shoved her aside. "You wipe 'em," said she; "I'll wash. There's a +good many this mornin'." + +The mother plunged her hands vigorously into the water, the girl +wiped the plates slowly and dreamily. "Mother," said she, "don't +you think it's too bad father's going to build that new barn, much +as we need a decent house to live in?" + +Her mother scrubbed a dish fiercely. "You ain't found out yet +we're women-folks, Nanny Penn," said she. "You ain't seen enough +of men-folks yet to. One of these days you'll find it out, an' +then you'll know that we know only what men-folks think we do, so +far as any use of it goes, an' how we'd ought to reckon men-folks +in with Providence, an' not complain of what they do any more than +we do of the weather." + +"I don't care; I don't believe George is anything like that, +anyhow," said Nanny. Her delicate face flushed pink, her lips +pouted softly, as if she were going to cry. + +"You wait an' see. I guess George Eastman ain't no better than +other men. You hadn't ought to judge father, though. He can't help +it, 'cause he don't look at things jest the way we do. An' we've +been pretty comfortable here, after all. The roof don't leak-- +ain't never but once--that's one thing. Father's kept it shingled +right up." + +"I do wish we had a parlor." + +"I guess it won't hurt George Eastman any to come to see you in a +nice clean kitchen. I guess a good many girls don't have as good a +place as this. Nobody's ever heard me complain." + +"I ain't complained either, mother." + +"Well, I don't think you'd better, a good father an' a good home +as you've got. S'pose your father made you go out an' work for +your livin'? Lots of girls have to that ain't no stronger an' +better able to than you be." + +Sarah Penn washed the frying-pan with a conclusive air. She +scrubbed the outside of it as faithfully as the inside. She was a +masterly keeper of her box of a house. Her one living-room never +seemed to have in it any of the dust which the friction of life +with inanimate matter produces. She swept, and there seemed to be +no dirt to go before the broom; she cleaned, and one could see no +difference. She was like an artist so perfect that he has +apparently no art. To-day she got out a mixing bowl and a board, +and rolled some pies, and there was no more flour upon her than +upon her daughter who was doing finer work. Nanny was to be +married in the fall, and she was sewing on some white cambric and +embroidery. She sewed industriously while her mother cooked, her +soft milk-white hands and wrists showed whiter than her delicate +work. + +"We must have the stove moved out in the shed before long," said +Mrs. Penn. "Talk about not havin' things, it's been a real +blessin' to be able to put a stove up in that shed in hot weather. +Father did one good thing when he fixed that stove-pipe out +there." + +Sarah Penn's face as she rolled her pies had that expression of +meek vigor which might have characterized one of the New Testament +saints. She was making mince-pies. Her husband, Adoniram Penn, +liked them better than any other kind. She baked twice a week. +Adoniram often liked a piece of pie between meals. She hurried +this morning. It had been later than usual when she began, and she +wanted to have a pie baked for dinner. However deep a resentment +she might be forced to hold against her husband, she would never +fail in sedulous attention to his wants. + +Nobility of character manifests itself at loop-holes when it is +not provided with large doors. Sarah Penn's showed itself to-day +in flaky dishes of pastry. So she made the pies faithfully, while +across the table she could see, when she glanced up from her work, +the sight that rankled in her patient and steadfast soul--the +digging of the cellar of the new barn in the place where Adoniram +forty years ago had promised her their new house should stand. + +The pies were done for dinner. Adoniram and Sammy were home a few +minutes after twelve o'clock. The dinner was eaten with serious +haste. There was never much conversation at the table in the Penn +family. Adoniram asked a blessing, and they ate promptly, then +rose up and went about their work. + +Sammy went back to school, taking soft, sly lopes out of the yard +like a rabbit. He wanted a game of marbles before school, and +feared his father would give him some chores to do. Adoniram +hastened to the door and called after him, but he was out of +sight. + +"I don't see what you let him go for, mother," said he. "I wanted +him to help me unload that wood." + +Adoniram went to work out in the yard unloading wood from the +wagon. Sarah put away the dinner dishes, while Nanny took down her +curl-papers and changed her dress. She was going down to the store +to buy some more embroidery and thread. + +When Nanny was gone, Mrs. Penn went to the door. "Father!" she +called. + +"Well, what is it!" + +"I want to see you jest a minute, father." + +"I can't leave this wood nohow. I've got to git it unloaded an' go +for a load of gravel afore two o'clock. Sammy had ought to helped +me. You hadn't ought to let him go to school so early." + +"I want to see you jest a minute." + +"I tell ye I can't, nohow, mother." + +"Father, you come here." Sarah Penn stood in the door like a +queen; she held her head as if it bore a crown; there was that +patience which makes authority royal in her voice. Adoniram went. + +Mrs. Penn led the way into the kitchen, and pointed to a chair. +"Sit down, father," said she; "I've got somethin' I want to say to +you." + +He sat down heavily; his face was quite stolid, but he looked at +her with restive eyes. "Well, what is it, mother?" + +"I want to know what you're buildin' that new barn for, father?" + +"I ain't got nothin' to say about it." + +"It can't be you think you need another barn?" + +"I tell ye I ain't got nothin' to say about it, mother; an' I +ain't goin' to say nothin'." + +"Be you goin' to buy more cows?" + +Adoniram did not reply; he shut his mouth tight. + +"I know you be, as well as I want to. Now, father, look here"-- +Sarah Penn had not sat down; she stood before her husband in the +humble fashion of a Scripture woman--"I'm goin' to talk real plain +to you; I never have sence I married you, but I'm goin' to now. I +ain't never complained, an' I ain't goin' to complain now, but I'm +goin' to talk plain. You see this room here, father; you look at +it well. You see there ain't no carpet on the floor, an' you see +the paper is all dirty, an' droppin' off the walls. We ain't had +no new paper on it for ten year, an' then I put it on myself, an' +it didn't cost but ninepence a roll. You see this room, father; +it's all the one I've had to work in an' eat in an' sit in sence +we was married. There ain't another woman in the whole town whose +husband ain't got half the means you have but what's got better. +It's all the room Nanny's got to have her company in; an' there +ain't one of her mates but what's got better, an' their fathers +not so able as hers is. It's all the room she'll have to be +married in. What would you have thought, father, if we had had our +weddin' in a room no better than this? I was married in my +mother's parlor, with a carpet on the floor, an' stuffed +furniture, an' a mahogany card-table. An' this is all the room my +daughter will have to be married in. Look here, father!" + +Sarah Penn went across the room as though it were a tragic stage. +She flung open a door and disclosed a tiny bedroom, only large +enough for a bed and bureau, with a path between. "There, father," +said she--"there's all the room I've had to sleep in forty year. +All my children were born there--the two that died, an' the two +that's livin'. I was sick with a fever there." + +She stepped to another door and opened it. It led into the small, +ill-lighted pantry. "Here," said she, "is all the buttery I've +got--every place I've got for my dishes, to set away my victuals +in, an' to keep my milk-pans in. Father, I've been takin' care of +the milk of six cows in this place, an' now you're goin' to build +a new barn, an' keep more cows, an' give me more to do in it." + +She threw open another door. A narrow crooked flight of stairs +wound upward from it. "There, father," said she, "I want you to +look at the stairs that go up to them two unfinished chambers that +are all the places our son an' daughter have had to sleep in all +their lives. There ain't a prettier girl in town nor a more +ladylike one than Nanny, an' that's the place she has to sleep in. +It ain't so good as your horse's stall; it ain't so warm an' +tight." + +Sarah Penn went back and stood before her husband. "Now, father," +said she, "I want to know if you think you're doin' right an' +accordin' to what you profess. Here, when we was married, forty +year ago, you promised me faithful that we should have a new house +built in that lot over in the field before the year was out. You +said you had money enough, an' you wouldn't ask me to live in no +such place as this. It is forty year now, an' you've been makin' +more money, an' I've been savin' of it for you ever sence, an' you +ain't built no house yet. You've built sheds an' cow-houses an' +one new barn, an' now you're goin' to build another. Father, I +want to know if you think it's right. You're lodgin' your dumb +beasts better than you are your own flesh an' blood. I want to +know if you think it's right." + +"I ain't got nothin' to say." + +"You can't say nothin' without ownin' it ain't right, father. An' +there's another thing--I ain't complained; I've got along forty +year, an' I s'pose I should forty more, if it wa'n't for that--if +we don't have another house. Nanny she can't live with us after +she's married. She'll have to go somewheres else to live away from +us, an' it don't seem as if I could have it so, noways, father. +She wa'n't ever strong. She's got considerable color, but there +wa'n't never any backbone to her. I've always took the heft of +everything off her, an' she ain't fit to keep house an' do +everything herself. She'll be all worn out inside of a year. Think +of her doin' all the washin' an' ironin' an' bakin' with them soft +white hands an' arms, an' sweepin'! I can't have it so, noways, +father." + +Mrs. Penn's face was burning; her mild eyes gleamed. She had +pleaded her little cause like a Webster; she had ranged from +severity to pathos; but her opponent employed that obstinate +silence which makes eloquence futile with mocking echoes. Adoniram +arose clumsily. + +"Father, ain't you got nothin' to say?" said Mrs. Penn. + +"I've got to go off after that load of gravel. I can't stan' here +talkin' all day." + +"Father, won't you think it over, an' have a house built there +instead of a barn?" + +"I ain't got nothin' to say." + +Adoniram shuffled out. Mrs. Penn went into her bedroom. When she +came out, her eyes were red. She had a roll of unbleached cotton +cloth. She spread it out on the kitchen table, and began cutting +out some shirts for her husband. The men over in the field had a +team to help them this afternoon; she could hear their halloos. +She had a scanty pattern for the shirts; she had to plan and piece +the sleeves. + +Nanny came home with her embroidery, and sat down with her +needlework. She had taken down her curl-papers, and there was a +soft roll of fair hair like an aureole over her forehead; her face +was as delicately fine and clear as porcelain. Suddenly she looked +up, and the tender red flamed all over her face and neck. +"Mother," said she. + +"What say?" + +"I've been thinking--I don't see how we're goin' to have any-- +wedding in this room. I'd be ashamed to have his folks come if we +didn't have anybody else." + +"Mebbe we can have some new paper before then; I can put it on. I +guess you won't have no call to be ashamed of your belongin's." + +"We might have the wedding in the new barn," said Nanny, with +gentle pettishness. "Why, mother, what makes you look so?" + +Mrs. Penn had started, and was staring at her with a curious +expression. She turned again to her work, and spread out a pattern +carefully on the cloth. "Nothin'," said she. + +Presently Adoniram clattered out of the yard in his two-wheeled +dump cart, standing as proudly upright as a Roman charioteer. Mrs. +Penn opened the door and stood there a minute looking out; the +halloos of the men sounded louder. + +It seemed to her all through the spring months that she heard +nothing but the halloos and the noises of saws and hammers. The +new barn grew fast. It was a fine edifice for this little village. +Men came on pleasant Sundays, in their meeting suits and clean +shirt bosoms, and stood around it admiringly. Mrs. Penn did not +speak of it, and Adoniram did not mention it to her, although +sometimes, upon a return from inspecting it, he bore himself with +injured dignity. + +"It's a strange thing how your mother feels about the new barn," +he said, confidentially, to Sammy one day. + +Sammy only grunted after an odd fashion for a boy; he had learned +it from his father. + +The barn was all completed ready for use by the third week in +July. Adoniram had planned to move his stock in on Wednesday; on +Tuesday he received a letter which changed his plans. He came in +with it early in the morning. "Sammy's been to the post-office," +said he, "an' I've got a letter from Hiram." Hiram was Mrs. Penn's +brother, who lived in Vermont. + +"Well," said Mrs. Penn, "what does he say about the folks?" + +"I guess they're all right. He says he thinks if I come up country +right off there's a chance to buy jest the kind of a horse I +want." He stared reflectively out of the window at the new barn. + +Mrs. Penn was making pies. She went on clapping the rolling-pin +into the crust, although she was very pale, and her heart beat +loudly. + +"I dun' know but what I'd better go," said Adoniram. "I hate to go +off jest now, right in the midst of hayin', but the ten-acre lot's +cut, an' I guess Rufus an' the others can git along without me +three or four days. I can't get a horse round here to suit me, +nohow, an' I've got to have another for all that wood-haulin' in +the fall. I told Hiram to watch out, an' if he got wind of a good +horse to let me know. I guess I'd better go." + +"I'll get out your clean shirt an' collar," said Mrs. Penn, +calmly. + +She laid out Adoniram's Sunday suit and his clean clothes on the +bed in the little bedroom. She got his shaving-water and razor +ready. At last she buttoned on his collar and fastened his black +cravat. + +Adoniram never wore his collar and cravat except on extra +occasions. He held his head high, with a rasped dignity. When he +was all ready, with his coat and hat brushed, and a lunch of pie +and cheese in a paper bag, he hesitated on the threshold of the +door. He looked at his wife, and his manner was defiantly +apologetic. "IF them cows come to-day, Sammy can drive 'em into +the new barn," said he; "an' when they bring the hay up, they can +pitch it in there." + +"Well," replied Mrs. Penn. + +Adoniram set his shaven face ahead and started. When he had +cleared the door-step, he turned and looked back with a kind of +nervous solemnity. "I shall be back by Saturday if nothin' +happens," said he. + +"Do be careful, father," returned his wife. + +She stood in the door with Nanny at her elbow and watched him out +of sight. Her eyes had a strange, doubtful expression in them; her +peaceful forehead was contracted. She went in, and about her +baking again. Nanny sat sewing. Her wedding-day was drawing +nearer, and she was getting pale and thin with her steady sewing. +Her mother kept glancing at her. + +"Have you got that pain in your side this mornin'?" she asked. + +"A little." + +Mrs. Penn's face, as she worked, changed, her perplexed forehead +smoothed, her eyes were steady, her lips firmly set. She formed a +maxim for herself, although incoherently with her unlettered +thoughts. "Unsolicited opportunities are the guide-posts of the +Lord to the new roads of life," she repeated in effect, and she +made up her mind to her course of action. + +"S'posin' I had wrote to Hiram," she muttered once, when she was +in the pantry--"s'posin' I had wrote, an' asked him if he knew of +any horse? But I didn't, an' father's goin' wa'n't none of my +doin'. It looks like a providence." Her voice rang out quite loud +at the last. + +"What you talkin' about, mother?" called Nanny. + +"Nothin'." + +Mrs. Penn hurried her baking; at eleven o 'clock it was all done. +The load of hay from the west field came slowly down the cart +track, and drew up at the new barn. Mrs. Penn ran out. "Stop!" she +screamed--"stop!" + +The men stopped and looked; Sammy upreared from the top of the +load, and stared at his mother. + +"Stop!" she cried out again. "Don't you put the hay in that barn; +put it in the old one." + +"Why, he said to put it in here," returned one of the haymakers, +wonderingly. He was a young man, a neighbor's son, whom Adoniram +hired by the year to help on the farm. + +"Don't you put the hay in the new barn; there's room enough in the +old one, ain't there?" said Mrs. Penn. + +"Room enough," returned the hired man, in his thick, rustic tones. +"Didn't need the new barn, nohow, far as room's concerned. Well, I +s'pose he changed his mind." He took hold of the horses' bridles. + +Mrs. Penn went back to the house. Soon the kitchen windows were +darkened, and a fragrance like warm honey came into the room. + +Nanny laid down her work. "I thought father wanted them to put the +hay into the new barn?" she said, wonderingly. + +"It's all right," replied her mother. + +Sammy slid down from the load of hay, and came in to see if dinner +was ready. + +"I ain't goin' to get a regular dinner to-day, as long as father's +gone," said his mother. "I've let the fire go out. You can have +some bread an' milk an' pie. I thought we could get along." She +set out some bowls of milk, some bread, and a pie on the kitchen +table. "You'd better eat your dinner now," said she. "You might +jest as well get through with it. I want you to help me +afterward." + +Nanny and Sammy stared at each other. There was something strange +in their mother's manner. Mrs. Penn did not eat anything herself. +She went into the pantry, and they heard her moving dishes while +they ate. Presently she came out with a pile of plates. She got +the clothes-basket out of the shed, and packed them in it. Nanny +and Sammy watched. She brought out cups and saucers, and put them +in with the plates. + +"What you goin' to do, mother?" inquired Nanny, in a timid voice. +A sense of something unusual made her tremble, as if it were a +ghost. Sammy rolled his eyes over his pie. + +"You'll see what I'm goin' to do," replied Mrs. Penn. "If you're +through, Nanny, I want you to go upstairs an' pack up your things; +an' I want you, Sammy, to help me take down the bed in the +bedroom." + +"Oh, mother, what for?" gasped Nanny. + +"You'll see." + +During the next few hours a feat was performed by this simple, +pious New England mother which was equal in its way to Wolfe's +storming of the Heights of Abraham. It took no more genius and +audacity of bravery for Wolfe to cheer his wondering soldiers up +those steep precipices, under the sleeping eyes of the enemy, than +for Sarah Penn, at the head of her children, to move all their +little household goods into the new barn while her husband was +away. + +Nanny and Sammy followed their mother's instructions without a +murmur; indeed, they were overawed. There is a certain uncanny and +superhuman quality about all such purely original undertakings as +their mother's was to them. Nanny went back and forth with her +light loads, and Sammy tugged with sober energy. + +At five o'clock in the afternoon the little house in which the +Penns had lived for forty years had emptied itself into the new +barn. + +Every builder builds somewhat for unknown purposes, and is in a +measure a prophet. The architect of Adoniram Penn's barn, while he +designed it for the comfort of four-footed animals, had planned +better than he knew for the comfort of humans. Sarah Penn saw at a +glance its possibilities. Those great box-stalls, with quilts hung +before them, would make better bedrooms than the one she had +occupied for forty years, and there was a tight carriage-room. The +harness-room, with its chimney and shelves, would make a kitchen +of her dreams. The great middle space would make a parlor, by-and- +by, fit for a palace. Upstairs there was as much room as down. +With partitions and windows, what a house would there be! Sarah +looked at the row of stanchions before the allotted space for +cows, and reflected that she would have her front entry there. + +At six o'clock the stove was up in the harness-room, the kettle +was boiling, and the table set for tea. It looked almost as home- +like as the abandoned house across the yard had ever done. The +young hired man milked, and Sarah directed him calmly to bring the +milk to the new barn. He came gaping, dropping little blots of +foam from the brimming pails on the grass. Before the next morning +he had spread the story of Adoniram Penn's wife moving into the +new barn all over the little village. Men assembled in the store +and talked it over, women with shawls over their heads scuttled +into each other's houses before their work was done Any deviation +from the ordinary course of life in this quiet town was enough to +stop all progress in it. Everybody paused to look at the staid, +independent figure on the side track. There was a difference of +opinion with regard to her. Some held her to be insane; some, of a +lawless and rebellious spirit. + +Friday the minister went to see her. It was in the forenoon, and +she was at the barn door shelling peas for dinner. She looked up +and returned his salutation with dignity, then she went on with +her work. She did not invite him in. The saintly expression of her +face remained fixed, but there was an angry flush over it. + +The minister stood awkwardly before her, and talked, She handled +the peas as if they were bullets. At last she looked up, and her +eyes showed the spirit that her meek front had covered for a +lifetime. + +"There ain't no use talkin', Mr. Hersey," said she. "I've thought +it all over an' over, an' I believe I'm doin' what's right. I've +made it the subject of prayer, an' it's betwixt me an' the Lord +an' Adoniram. There ain't no call for nobody else to worry about +it." + +"Well, of course, if you have brought it to the Lord in prayer, +and feel satisfied that you are doing right, Mrs. Penn," said the +minister, helplessly. His thin gray-bearded face was pathetic. He +was a sickly man; his youthful confidence had cooled; he had to +scourge himself up to some of his pastoral duties as relentlessly +as a Catholic ascetic, and then he was prostrated by the smart. + +"I think it's right jest as much as I think it was right for our +forefathers to come over from the old country 'cause they didn't +have what belonged to 'em," said Mrs. Penn. She arose. The barn +threshold might have been Plymouth Rock from her bearing. "I don't +doubt you mean well, Mr. Hersey," said she, "but there are things +people hadn't ought to interfere with. I've been a member of the +church for over forty year. I've got my own mind an' my own feet, +an' I'm goin' to think my own thoughts an' go my own ways, an' +nobody but the Lord is goin' to dictate to me unless I've a mind +to have him. Won't you come in an' set down? How is Mis' Hersey?" + +"She is well, I thank you," replied the minister. He added some +more perplexed apologetic remarks; then he retreated. + +He could expound the intricacies of every character study in the +Scriptures, he was competent to grasp the Pilgrim Fathers and all +historical innovators, but Sarah Penn was beyond him. He could +deal with primal cases, but parallel ones worsted him. But, after +all, although it was aside from his province, he wondered more how +Adoniram Penn would deal with his wife than how the Lord would. +Everybody shared the wonder. When Adoniram's four new cows +arrived, Sarah ordered three to be put in the old barn, the other +in the house shed where the cooking-stove had stood. That added to +the excitement. It was whispered that all four cows were domiciled +in the house. + +Towards sunset on Saturday, when Adoniram was expected home, there +was a knot of men in the road near the new barn. The hired man had +milked, but he still hung around the premises. Sarah Penn had +supper all ready. There were brown-bread and baked beans and a +custard pie; it was the supper that Adoniram loved on a Saturday +night. She had on a clean calico, and she bore herself +imperturbably. Nanny and Sammy kept close at her heels. Their eyes +were large, and Nanny was full of nervous tremors. Still there was +to them more pleasant excitement than anything else. An inborn +confidence in their mother over their father asserted itself. + +Sammy looked out of the harness-room window. "There he is," he +announced, in an awed whisper. He and Nanny peeped around the +casing. Mrs. Penn kept on about her work. The children watched +Adoniram leave the new horse standing in the drive while he went +to the house door. It was fastened. Then he went around to the +shed. That door was seldom locked, even when the family was away. +The thought how her father would be confronted by the cow flashed +upon Nanny. There was a hysterical sob in her throat. Adoniram +emerged from the shed and stood looking about in a dazed fashion. +His lips moved; he was saying something, but they could not hear +what it was. The hired man was peeping around a corner of the old +barn, but nobody saw him. + +Adoniram took the new horse by the bridle and led him across the +yard to the new barn. Nanny and Sammy slunk close to their mother. +The barn doors rolled back, and there stood Adoniram, with the +long mild face of the great Canadian farm horse looking over his +shoulder. + +Nanny kept behind her mother, but Sammy stepped suddenly forward, +and stood in front of her. + +Adoniram stared at the group. "What on airth you all down here +for?" said he. "What's the matter over to the house!" + +"We've come here to live, father," said Sammy. His shrill voice +quavered out bravely. + +"What"--Adoniram sniffed--"what is it smells like cookin'?" said +he. He stepped forward and looked in the open door of the harness- +room. Then he turned to his wife. His old bristling face was pale +and frightened. "What on airth does this mean, mother?" he gasped. + +"You come in here, father," said Sarah. She led the way into the +harness-room and shut the door. "Now, father," said she, "you +needn't be scared. I ain't crazy. There ain't nothin' to be upset +over. But we've come here to live, an' we're goin' to live here. +We've got jest as good a right here as new horses an' cows. The +house wa'n't fit for us to live in any longer, an' I made up my +mind I wa'n't goin' to stay there. I've done my duty by you forty +year, an' I'm goin' to do it now; but I'm goin' to live here. +You've got to put in some windows and partitions; an' you'll have +to buy some furniture." + +"Why, mother!" the old man gasped. + +"You'd better take your coat off an' get washed--there's the wash- +basin--an' then we'll have supper." + +"Why, mother!" + +Sammy went past the window, leading the new horse to the old barn. +The old man saw him, and shook his head speechlessly. He tried to +take off his coat, but his arms seemed to lack the power. His wife +helped him. She poured some water into the tin basin, and put in a +piece of soap. She got the comb and brush, and smoothed his thin +gray hair after he had washed. Then she put the beans, hot bread, +and tea on the table. Sammy came in, and the family drew up. +Adoniram sat looking dazedly at his plate, and they waited. + +"Ain't you goin' to ask a blessin', father!" said Sarah. + +And the old man bent his head and mumbled. + +All through the meal he stopped eating at intervals, and stared +furtively at his wife; but he ate well. The home food tasted good +to him, and his old frame was too sturdily healthy to be affected +by his mind. But after supper he went out, and sat down on the +step of the smaller door at the right of the barn, through which +he had meant his Jerseys to pass in stately file, but which Sarah +designed for her front house door, and he leaned his head on his +hands. + +After the supper dishes were cleared away and the milk-pans +washed, Sarah went out to him. The twilight was deepening. There +was a clear green glow in the sky. Before them stretched the +smooth level of field; in the distance was a cluster of hay-stacks +like the huts of a village; the air was very cool and calm and +sweet. The landscape might have been an ideal one of peace. + +Sarah bent over and touched her husband on one of his thin, sinewy +shoulders. "Father!" + +The old man's shoulders heaved: he was weeping. + +"Why, don't do so, father," said Sarah. + +"I'll--put up the--partitions, an'--everything you--want, mother." + +Sarah put her apron up to her face; she was overcome by her own +triumph. + +Adoniram was like a fortress whose walls had no active resistance, +and went down the instant the right besieging tools were used. +"Why, mother," he said, hoarsely, "I hadn't no idee you was so set +on't as all this comes to." + + + + + + +MARSE CHAN + +A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA + +BY + +THOMAS NELSON PAGE + +Here plot, character, and setting are happily blended. The story +is sufficient to move smoothly and interestingly; the characters, +both black and white, reveal the Southerner at his best; and the +setting not only furnishes an appropriate background for plot and +characters, but is significant of the leisure, the isolation, and +the pride of the people. + + + + +MARSE CHAN + +[Footnote: From "In Ole Virginia," by Thomas Nelson Page. +Copyright, 1887, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +One afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down +the sandy road that winds along the top of the water-shed between +two of the smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was +travelling, following "the ridge" for miles, had just struck me as +most significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of +communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their +once splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to +view from time to time, set back far from the road, in proud +seclusion, among groves of oak and hickory, now scarlet and gold +with the early frost. Distance was nothing to this people, time +was of no consequence to them. They desired but a level path in +life, and that they had, though the way was longer, and the outer +world strode by them as they dreamed. + +I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some one ahead of me +calling, "Heah!--heah--whoo-oop, heah!" + +Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before me a negro +standing, with a hoe and a watering-pot in his hand. He had +evidently just gotten over the "worm-fence" into the road, out of +the path which led zigzag across the "old field" and was lost to +sight in the dense growth of sassafras. When I rode up, he was +looking anxiously back down this path for his dog. So engrossed +was he that he did not even hear my horse, and I reined in to wait +until he should turn around and satisfy my curiosity as to the +handsome old place half a mile off from the road. + +The numerous out-buildings and the large barns and stables told +that it had once been the seat of wealth, and the wild waste of +sassafras that covered the broad fields gave it an air of +desolation that greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of +my proximity, the negro went on calling "Whoo-oop, heah!" until +along the path, walking very slowly and with great dignity, +appeared a noble-looking old orange and white setter, gray with +age, and corpulent with excessive feeding. As soon as he came in +sight, his master began: + +"Yes, dat you! You gittin' deaf as well as bline, I s'pose! Kyarnt +heah me callin', I reckon? Whyn't yo' come on, dawg?" + +The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped, without +even deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to +take the rails down, talking meanwhile: + +"Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose! Yo' so sp'ilt yo' kyahn +hardly walk. Jes' ez able to git over it as I is! Jes' like white +folks--think 'cuz you's white and I'se black, I got to wait on yo' +all de time. Ne'm mine, I ain' gwi' do it!" + +The fence having been pulled down sufficiently low to suit his +dogship, he marched sedately through, and, with a hardly +perceptible lateral movement of his tail, walked on down the road. +Putting up the rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me. + +"Sarvent, marster," he said, taking his hat off. Then, as if +apologetically for having permitted a stranger to witness what was +merely a family affair, he added: "He know I don' mean nothin' by +what I sez. He's Marse Chan's dawg, an' he's so ole he kyahn git +long no pearter. He know I'se jes' prodjickin' wid 'im." + +"Who is Marse Chan?" I asked; "and whose place is that over there, +and the one a mile or two back--the place with the big gate and +the carved stone pillars!" + +"Marse Chan," said the darky, "he's Marse Channin'--my young +marster; an' dem places--dis one's Wealls, an' de one back dyar +wid de rock gate-pos's is ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. Dey don' nobody +live dyar now, 'cep' niggers. Arfter de war some one or nurr +bought our place, but his name done kind o' slipped me. I nuver +hearn on 'im befo'; I think dey's half-strainers. I don' ax none +on 'em no odds. I lives down de road heah, a little piece, an' I +jes' steps down of a evenin' and looks arfter de graves." + +"Well, where is Marse Chan?" I asked. + +"Hi! don' you know? Marse Chan, he went in de army. I was wid 'im. +Yo' know he warn' gwine an' lef Sam." + +"Will you tell me all about it?" I said, dismounting. + +Instantly, and as if by instinct, the darky stepped forward and +took my bridle. I demurred a little; but with a bow that would +have honored old Sir Roger, he shortened the reins, and taking my +horse from me, led him along. + +"Now tell me about Marse Chan," I said. + +"Lawd, marster, hit's so long ago, I'd a'most forgit all about it, +ef I hedn' been wid him ever sence he wuz born. Ez 'tis, I +remembers it jes' like 'twuz yistiddy. Yo' know Marse Chan an' me +--we wuz boys togerr. I wuz older'n he wuz, jes' de same ez he wuz +whiter'n me. I wuz born plantin' corn time, de spring arfter big +Jim an' de six steers got washed away at de upper ford right down +dyar blow de quarters ez he wuz a-bringin' de Chris'mas things +home; an' Marse Chan, he warn' born tell mos' to de harves' arfter +my sister Nancy married Cun'l Chahmb'lin's Torm, 'bout eight years +arfterwoods. + +"Well, when Marse Chan wuz born, dey wuz de grettes' doin's at +home you ever did see. De folks all hed holiday, jes' like in de +Chris'mas. Ole marster (we didn' call 'im OLE marster tell arfter +Marster Chan wuz born-befo' dat he wuz jes' de marster, so)--well, +ole marster, his face fyar shine wid pleasure, an' all de folks +wuz mighty glad, too, 'cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo' +dey did step aroun' right peart when ole marster was lookin' at +'em, dyar warn' nyar han' on de place but what, ef he wanted +anythin', would walk up to de back poach, an' say he warn' to see +de marster. An' ev'ybody wuz talkin' 'bout de young marster, an' +de maids an' de wimmens 'bout de kitchen wuz sayin' how 'twuz de +purties' chile dey ever see; an' at dinner-time de mens (all on +'em hed holiday) come roun' de poach an' ax how de missis an' de +young marster wuz, an' ole marster come out on de poach an' smile +wus'n a 'possum, an' sez, 'Thankee! Bofe doin' fust rate, boys'; +an' den he stepped back in de house, sort o' laughin' to hisse'f, +an' in a minute he come out ag'in wid de baby in he arms, all +wrapped up in flannens an' things, an' sez, 'Heah he is, boys.' +All de folks den, dey went up on de poach to look at 'im, drappin' +dey hats on de steps, an' scrapin' dey feets ez dey went up. An' +pres'n'y old marster, lookin' down at we all chil'en all packed +togerr down dyah like a parecel o' sheep-burrs, cotch sight o' ME +(he knowed my name, 'cause I use' to hole he hoss fur 'im +sometimes; but he didn't know all de chile'n by name, dey wuz so +many on 'em), an' he sez, 'Come up heah!' So up I goes tippin', +skeered like, an' old marster sez, 'Ain' you Mymie's son?'' +Yass, seh,' sez I. 'Well,' sez he, 'I'm gwine to give you to yo' +young Marse Channin' to be his body-servant,' an' he put de baby +right in my arms (it's de truth I'm tellin' yo'!), an' yo' jes' +ought to a-heard de folks sayin', 'Lawd! marster, dat boy'll drap +dat chile!' 'Naw, he won't,' sez marster; 'I kin trust 'im.' And +den he sez: 'Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to yo' young +Marse Channin'; I wan' you to tek keer on 'im ez long ez he lives. +You are to be his boy from dis time. An' now,' he sez, 'carry 'im +in de house.' An' he walks arfter me an' opens de do's fur me, an' +I kyars 'im in my arms, an' lays 'im down on de bed. An' from dat +time I was tooken in de house to be Marse Channin's body-servant. + +"Well, you nuver see a chile grow so. Pres'n'y he growed up right +big, an' ole marster sez he must have some edication. So he sont +'im to school to ole Miss Lawry down dyar, dis side o' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's, an' I use' to go 'long wid 'im an' tote he books an' +we all's snacks; an' when he larnt to read an' spell right good, +an' got 'bout so-o big, old Miss Lawry she died, an' old marster +said he mus' have a man to teach 'im an' trounce 'im. So we all +went to Mr. Hall, whar kep' de school-house beyant de creek, an' +dyar we went ev'y day, 'cep Sat'd'ys of co'se, an' sich days ez +Marse Chan din' warn' go, an' ole missis begged 'im off. + +"Hit wuz down dyar Marse Chan fust took notice o' Miss Anne. Mr. +Hall, he taught gals ez well ez boys, an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin he sont +his daughter (dat's Miss Anne I'm talkin' about). She wuz a leetle +bit o' gal when she fust come. Yo' see, her ma wuz dead, an' old +Miss Lucy Chahmb'lin, she lived wid her brurr an' kep' house for +'im; an' he wuz so busy wid politics, he didn' have much time to +spyar, so he sont Miss Anne to Mr. Hall's by a 'ooman wid a note. +When she come dat day in de school-house, an' all de chil'en +looked at her so hard, she tu'n right red, an' tried to pull her +long curls over her eyes, an' den put bofe de backs of her little +han's in her two eyes, an' begin to cry to herse'f. Marse Chan he +was settin' on de een' o' de bench nigh de do', an' he jes' +reached out an' put he arm 'roun' her an' drawed her up to 'im. +An' he kep' whisperin to her, an' callin' her name, an' coddlin' +her; an' pres'n'y she took her han's down an' begin to laugh. + +"Well, dey 'peared to tek' a gre't fancy to each urr from dat +time. Miss Anne she warn' nuthin' but a baby hardly, an' Marse +Chan he wuz a good big boy 'bout mos' thirteen years ole, I +reckon. Hows'ever, dey sut'n'y wuz sot on each urr an' (yo' heah +me!) ole marster an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin dey 'peared to like it 'bout +well ez de chil'en. Yo' see, Cun'l Chahmb'lin's place j'ined ourn, +an' it looked jes' ez natural fur dem two chil'en to marry an' mek +it one plantation, ez it did fur de creek to run down de bottom +from our place into Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. I don' rightly think de +chil'en thought 'bout gittin' MARRIED, not den, no mo'n I thought +'bout marryin' Judy when she wuz a little gal at Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's, runnin' 'bout de house, huntin' fur Miss Lucy's +spectacles; but dey wuz good frien's from de start. Marse Chan he +use' to kyar Miss Anne's books fur her ev'y day, an' ef de road +wuz muddy or she wuz tired, he use' to tote her; an' 'twarn' +hardly a day passed dat he didn' kyar her some'n' to school-- +apples or hick'y nuts, or some'n. He wouldn't let none o' de +chil'en tease her, nurr. Heh! One day, one o' de boys poked he +finger at Miss Anne, and arfter school Marse Chan he axed 'im +'roun' 'hine de schoolhouse out o' sight, an' ef he didn't whop +'im! + +"Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes' scholar ole Mr. Hall hed, an' Mr. +Hall he wuz mighty proud o' 'im. I don' think he use' to beat 'im +ez much ez he did de urrs, aldo' he wuz de head in all debilment +dat went on, jes' ez he wuz in sayin' he lessons. + +"Heh! one day in summer, jes' fo' de school broke up, dyah come up +a storm right sudden, an' riz de creek (dat one yo' cross' back +yonder), an' Marse Chan he toted Miss Anne home on he back. He +ve'y off'n did dat when de parf wuz muddy. But dis day when dey +come to de creek, it had done washed all de logs 'way. 'Twuz still +mighty high, so Marse Chan he put Miss Anne down, an' he took a +pole an' waded right in. Hit took 'im long up to de shoulders. Den +he waded back, an' took Miss Anne up on his head an' kyared her +right over. At fust she wuz skeered; but he tol' her he could swim +an' wouldn' let her git hu't, an' den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, +she hol'in' his han's. I warn' 'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did +dat thing. + +"Ole marster he wuz so pleased 'bout it, he giv' Marse Chan a +pony; an' Marse Chan rode 'im to school de day arfter he come, so +proud, an' sayin' how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine 'im; +an' when he come home dat evenin' he wuz walkin'. 'Hi! where's +yo' pony?' said ole marster. 'I give 'im to Anne,' says Marse +Chan. 'She liked 'im, an'-I kin walk.' 'Yes,' sez ole marster, +laughin', 'I s'pose you's already done giv' her yo'se'f, an' nex' +thing I know you'll be givin' her this plantation and all my +niggers.' + +"Well, about a fortnight or sich a matter arfter dat, Cun'l +Chahmb'lin sont over an' invited all o' we all over to dinner, an' +Marse Chan wuz 'spressly named in de note whar Ned brought; an' +arfter dinner he made ole Phil, whar wuz his ker'ige-driver, bring +'roun' Marse Chan's pony wid a little side-saddle on 'im, an' a +beautiful little hoss wid a bran'-new saddle an' bridle on 'im; +an' he gits up an' meks Marse Chan a gre't speech, an' presents +'im de little hoss; an' den he calls Miss Anne, an' she comes out +on de poach in a little ridin' frock, an' dey puts her on her +pony, an' Marse Chan mounts his hoss, an' dey goes to ride, while +de grown folks is a-laughin' an' chattin' an' smokin' dey cigars. + +"Dem wuz good ole times, marster-de bes' Sam ever see! Dey wuz, in +fac'! Niggers didn' hed nothin' 't all to do-jes' hed to 'ten' to +de feedin' an' cleanin' de hosses, an' doin' what de marster tell +'em to do; an' when dey wuz sick, dey had things sont 'em out de +house, an' de same doctor come to see 'em whar 'ten' to de white +folks when dey wuz po'ly. Dyar warn' no trouble nor nothin'. + +"Well, things tuk a change arfter dat. Marse Chan he went to de +bo'din' school, whar he use' to write to me constant. Ole missis +use' to read me de letters, an' den I'd git Miss Anne to read 'em +ag'in to me when I'd see her. He use' to write to her too, an' she +use' to write to him too. Den Miss Anne she wuz sont off to school +too. An' in de summer time dey'd bofe come home, an' yo' hardly +knowed whether Marse Chan lived at home or over at Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's. He wuz over dyah constant. 'Twuz always ridin' or +fishin' down dyah in de river; or sometimes he' go over dyah, an' +'im an' she'd go out an' set in de yard onder de trees; she +settin' up mekin' out she wuz knittin' some sort o' bright- +cullored some'n', wid de grarss growin' all up 'g'inst her, an' +her" hat th'owed back on her neck, an' he readin' to her out +books; an' sometimes dey'd bofe read out de same book, fust one +an' den todder. I use' to see 'em! Dat wuz when dey wuz growin' up +like. + +"Den ole marster he run for Congress, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he +wuz put up to run 'g'inst ole marster by de Dimicrats; but ole +marster he beat 'im. Yo' know he wuz gwine do dat! Co'se he wuz! +Dat made ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin mighty mad, and dey stopt visitin' +each urr reg'lar, like dey had been doin' all 'long. Den Cun'l +Chahmb'lin he sort o' got in debt, an' sell some o' he niggers, +an' dat's de way de fuss begun. Dat's whar de lawsuit cum from. +Ole marster he didn' like nobody to sell niggers, an' knowin' dat +Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sellin' o' his, he writ an' offered to buy +his M'ria an' all her chil'en, 'cause she hed married our +Zeek'yel. An' don' yo' think, Cun'l Chahmb'lin axed ole marster +mo' 'n th'ee niggers wuz wuth fur M'ria! Befo' old marster bought +her, dough, de sheriff cum an' levelled on M'ria an' a whole +parecel o' urr niggers. Ole marster he went to de sale, an' bid +for 'em-r but Cun'l Chahmb'lin he got some one to bid 'g'inst ole +marster. Dey wuz knocked out to ole marster dough, an' den dey hed +a big lawsuit, an' ole marster wuz agwine to co't, off an' on, fur +some years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belonged to +ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den wuz so mad he sued ole +marster for a little strip o' lan' down dyah on de line fence, +whar he said belonged to 'im. Ev'ybody knowed hit belonged to ole +marster. Ef yo' go down dyah now, I kin show it to yo', inside de +line fence, whar it hed done bin ever sence long befo' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin wuz born. But Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz a mons'us +perseverin' man, an' ole marster he wouldn' let nobody run over +'im. No, dat he wouldn'! So dey wuz agwine down to co't about dat, +fur I don' know how long, till ole marster beat 'im. + +"All dis time, yo' know, Marse Chan wuz agoin' back'ads an' +for'ads to college, an' wuz growed up a ve'y fine young man. He +wuz a ve'y likely gent'man! Miss Anne she hed done mos' growed up +too--wuz puttin' her hyar up like old missis use' to put hers up, +an' 'twuz jes' ez bright ez de sorrel's mane when de sun cotch on +it, an' her eyes wuz gre't big dark eyes, like her pa's, on'y +bigger an' not so fierce, an' 'twarn' none o' de young ladies ez +purty ez she wuz. She an' Marse Chan still set a heap o' sto' by +one 'nurr, but I don' think dey wuz easy wid each urr ez when he +used to tote her home from school on his back. Marse Chan he use' +to love de ve'y groun' she walked on, dough, in my 'pinion. Heh! +His face 'twould light up whenever she come into chu'ch, or +anywhere, jes' like de sun hed come th'oo a chink on it suddenly. + +"Den' ole marster lost he eyes. D' yo' ever heah 'bout dat? Heish! +Didn' yo'? Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo' +know, wuz under de big barn, an' all de bosses wuz in dyah. Hit +'peared to me like 'twarn' no time befo' all de folks an' de +neighbors dey come, an' dey wuz a-totin' water, an' a-tryin' to +save de po' critters, and dey got a heap on 'em out; but de +ker'ige-hosses dey wouldn' come out, an' dey wuz a-runnin' +back'ads an' for'ads inside de stalls, a-nikerin' an' a-screamin', +like dey knowed dey time hed come. Yo' could heah 'em so pitiful, +an' pres'n'y old marster said to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker'ige- +driver), 'Go in dyah an' try to save 'em; don' let 'em bu'n to +death.' An' Ham he went right in. An' jest arfter he got in, de +shed whar it hed fus' cotch fell in, an' de sparks shot 'way up in +de air; an' Ham didn' come back, an' de fire begun to lick out +under de eaves over whar de ker'ige-hosses' stalls wuz, an' all of +a sudden ole marster tu'ned an' kissed ole missis, who wuz +standin' nigh him, wid her face jes' ez white ez a sperit's, an', +befo' anybody knowed what he wuz gwine do, jumped right in de do', +an' de smoke come po'in' out behine 'im. Well, seh, I nuver +'spects to heah tell Judgment sich a soun' ez de folks set up! Ole +missis she jes' drapt down on her knees in de mud an' prayed out +loud. Hit 'peared like her pra'r wuz heard; for in a minit, right +out de same do', kyarin' Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, +wid his clo's all blazin'. Dey flung water on 'im, an' put 'im +out; an', ef you b'lieve me, yo' wouldn't a-knowed 'twuz ole +marster. Yo' see, he had find Ham Fisher done fall down in de +smoke right by the ker'ige-hoss' stalls, whar he sont him, an' he +hed to tote 'im back in his arms th'oo de fire what hed done cotch +de front part o' de stable, and to keep de flame from gittin' down +Ham Fisher's th'oat he hed tuk off his own hat and mashed it all +over Ham Fisher's face, an' he hed kep' Ham Fisher from bein' so +much bu'nt; but HE wuz bu'nt dreadful! His beard an' hyar wuz all +nyawed off, an' his face an' han's an' neck wuz scorified +terrible. Well, he jes' laid Ham Fisher down, an' then he kind o' +staggered for'ad, an' ole missis ketch' 'im in her arms. Ham +Fisher, he warn' bu'nt so bad, an' he got out in a month to two; +an' arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too; but he wuz +always stone blind arfter that. He nuver could see none from dat +night. + +"Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an' he sut'n'y +did nuss ole marster faithful--jes' like a 'ooman. Den he took +charge of de plantation arfter dat; an' I use' to wait on 'im jes' +like when we wuz boys togedder; an' sometimes we'd slip off an' +have a fox-hunt, an' he'd be jes' like he wuz in ole times, befo' +ole marster got bline, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin stopt comin' over +to our house, an' settin' onder de trees, readin' out de same +book. + +"He sut'n'y wuz good to me. Nothin' nuver made no diffunce 'bout +dat. He nuver hit me a lick in his life--an' nuver let nobody else +do it, nurr. + +"I 'members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o' boy, ole marster +hed done tole we all chil'en not to slide on de straw-stacks; an' +one day me an' Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone 'way +from home. We watched him git on he hoss an' ride up de road out +o' sight, an' we wuz out in de field a-slidin' an' a-slidin', when +up comes ole marster. We started to run; but he hed done see us, +an' he called us to come back; an' sich a whuppin' ez he did gi' +us! + +"Fust he took Marse Chan, an' den he teched me up. He nuver hu't +me, but in co'se I wuz a-hollerin' ez hard ez I could stave it, +'cause I knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed'n +open he mouf long ez ole marster wuz tunin' 'im; but soon ez he +commence warmin' me an' I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out +cryin', an' stept right in befo' ole marster an' ketchin' de whup, +sed: + +"'Stop, seh! Yo' sha'n't whup 'im; he b'longs to me, an' ef you +hit 'im another lick I'll set 'im free!' + +"I wish yo' hed see old marster. Marse Chan he warn' mo'n eight +years ole, an' dyah dey wuz-old marster stan'in' wid he whup +raised up, an' Marse Chan red an' cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' +sayin' I b'longst to 'im. + +"Ole marster, he raise' de whup, an' den he drapt it, an' broke +out in a smile over he face, an' he chuck' Marse Chan onder de +chin, an' tu'n right 'roun' an' went away, laughin' to hisse'f, +an' I heah 'im tellin' ole missis dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout +it. + +"'Twan' so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin' +'bout de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin' back'ads an' for'ads 'bout it +fur two or th'ee years 'fo' it come sho' nuff, you know. Ole +marster, he was a Whig, an' of co'se Marse Chan he tuk after he +pa. Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in favor of de +war, an' ole marster and Marse Chan dey wuz agin' it. Dey wuz a- +talkin' 'bout it all de time, an' purty soon Cun'l Chahmb'lin he +went about ev'ywhar speakin' an' noratin' 'bout Firginia ought to +secede; an' Marse Chan he wuz picked up to talk agin' 'im. Dat wuz +de way dey come to fight de duil. I sut'n'y wuz skeered fur Marse +Chan dat mawnin', an' he was jes' ez cool! Yo' see, it happen so: +Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin' down at de Deep Creek Tavern, an' he +kind o' got de bes' of ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin. All de white folks +laughed an' hoorawed, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin--my Lawd! I fought +he'd 'a' bu'st, he was so mad. Well, when it come to his time to +speak, he jes' light into Marse Chan. He call 'im a traitor, an' a +ab'litionis', an' I don' know what all. Marse Chan, he jes' kep' +cool till de ole Cun'l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he name ole +marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o' lif' up he head. D' yo' ever +see a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see +somethin' comin' to'ds 'im from de side an' he don' know what 'tis? +Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went right on. He said ole marster hed +taught Marse Chan; dat ole marster wuz a wuss ab'litionis' dan he +son. I looked at Marse Chan, an' sez to myse'f: 'Fo' Gord! old +Cun'l Chahmb'lin better min', an' I hedn' got de wuds out, when +ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin 'cuse' old marster o' cheatin' 'im out o' he +niggers, an' stealing piece o' he lan'--dat's de lan' I tole you +'bout. Well, seh, nex' thing I knowed, I heahed Marse Chan--hit +all happen right 'long togerr, like lightnin' and thunder when +they hit right at you--I heah 'im say: + +"'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, what you say is false, an' yo' know it to be +so. You have wilfully slandered one of de pures' an' nobles' men +Gord ever made, an' nothin' but yo' gray hyars protects you.' + +"Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'd an' he pitch'd. He said he +wan' too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. + +"'Ve'y well,' says Marse Chan. + +"De meetin' broke up den. I wuz hol'in' de hosses out dyar in de +road by dee een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' +talkin' to Mr. Gordon an' anudder gent'man, and den he come out +an' got on de sorrel an' galloped off. Soon ez he got out o' sight +he pulled up, an' we walked along tell we come to de road whar +leads off to'ds Mr. Barbour's. He wuz de big lawyer o' de country. +Dar he tu'ned off. All dis time he hedn' sed a wud, 'cep' to kind +o' mumble to hisse'f now and den. When we got to Mr. Barbour's, he +got down an' went in. Dat wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes' +beginnin' to plough fur corn. He stayed dyar 'bout two hours, an' +when he come out Mr. Barbour come out to de gate wid 'im an' shake +han's arfter he got up in de saddle. Den we all rode off. 'Twuz +late den-good dark; an' we rid ez hard ez we could, tell we come +to de ole school-house at ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's gate. When we got +dar, Marse Chan got down an' walked right slow 'roun' de house. +After lookin' 'roun' a little while an' tryin' de do' to see ef it +wuz shet, he walked down de road tell he got to de creek. He stop' +dyar a little while an' picked up two or three little rocks an' +frowed 'em in, an' pres'n'y he got up an' we come on home. Ez he +got down, he tu'ned to me an', rubbin' de sorrel's nose, said: +'Have 'em well fed, Sam; I'll want 'em early in de mawnin'.' + +"Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an' he set at de table a +long time. Arfter ole marster went to bed, he went in de charmber +an' set on de bed by 'im talkin' to 'im an' tellin' 'im 'bout de +meetin' an' ev'ything; but he nuver mention ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's +name. When he got up to come out to de office in de yard, whar he +slept, he stooped down an' kissed 'im jes' like he wuz a baby +layin' dyar in de bed, an' he'd hardly let ole missis go at all. I +knowed some'n wuz up, an' nex' mawnin' I called 'im early befo' +light, like he tole me, an' he dressed an' come out pres'n'y jes' +like he wuz goin' to church. I had de hosses ready, an' we went +out de back way to'ds de river. Ez we rode along, he said: + +"'Sam, you an' I wuz boys togedder, wa'n't we?' + +"'Yes,' sez I, 'Marse Chan, dat we wuz.' + +"'You have been we'y faithful to me,' sez he, 'an' I have seen to +it that you are well provided fur. You want to marry Judy, I know, +an' you'll be able to buy her ef you want to.' + +"Den he tole me he wuz goin' to fight a duil, an' in case he +should git shot, he had set me free an' giv' me nuif to tek keer +o' me an' my wife ez long ez we lived. He said he'd like me to +stay an' tek keer o' ole marster an' ole missis ez long ez dey +lived, an' he said it wouldn' be very long, he reckoned. Dat wuz +de on'y time he voice broke when he said dat; an' I couldn' speak +a wud, my th'oat choked me so. + +"When we come to de river, we tu'ned right up de bank, an' arfter +ridin' 'bout a mile or sich a matter, we stopped whar dey wuz a +little clearin' wid elder bushes on one side an' two big gum-trees +on de urr, an' de sky wuz all red, an' de water down to'ds whar +the sun wuz comin' wuz jes' like de sky. + +"Pres'n'y Mr. Gordon he come, wid a 'hogany box 'bout so big 'fore +'im, an' he got down, an' Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses +an' go 'roun' behine de bushes whar I tell you 'bout-off to one +side; an' 'fore I got 'roun' dar, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin an' Mr. +Hennin an' Dr. Call come ridin' from t'urr way, to'ds ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's. When dey hed tied dey hosses, de urr gent'mens went +up to whar Mr. Gordon wuz, an' arfter some chattin' Mr. Hennin +step' off 'bout fur ez 'cross dis road, or mebbe it mout be a +little furder; an' den I seed 'em th'oo de bushes loadin' de +pistils, an' talk a little while; an' den Marse Chan an' ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin walked up wid de pistils in dey han's, an' Marse Chan +he stood wid his face right to'ds de sun. I seen it shine on him +jes' ez it come up over de low groun's, an' he look like he did +sometimes when he come out of church. I wuz so skeered I couldn' +say nothin'. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin could shoot fust rate, an' Marse +Chan he never missed. + +"Den I beared Mr. Gordon say, 'Gent'mens, is yo' ready?' and bofe +of 'em sez, 'Ready,' jes' so. + +"An' he sez, 'Fire, one, two'--an' ez he said 'one,' old Cun'l +Chahmb'lin raised he pistil an' shot right at Marse Chan. De ball +went th'oo his hat. I seen he hat sort o' settle on he head ez de +bullit hit it, an' HE jes' tilted his pistil up in de a'r an' +shot-BANG; an' ez de pistil went BANG, he sez to Cun'l Chahmb'lin, +'I mek you a present to yo' fam'ly, seh!' + +"Well, dey had some talkin' arfter dat. I didn't git rightly what +it wuz; but it 'peared like Cun'l Chahmb'lin he warn't satisfied, +an' wanted to have anurr shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin', an' +pres'n'y dey put de pistils up, an' Marse Chan an' Mr. Gordon +shook han's wid Mr. Hennin an' Dr. Call, an' come an' got on dey +hosses. An' Cun'l Chahmb'lin he got on his hoss an' rode away wid +de urr gent'mens, lookin' like he did de day befo' when all de +people laughed at 'im. + +"I b'lieve ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin wan' to shoot Marse Chan, anyway! + +"We come on home to breakfast, I totin' de box wid de pistils +befo' me on de roan. Would you b'lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he +nuver said a wud 'bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis +didn' fin' out 'bout it for mo'n a month, an' den, Lawd! how she +did cry and kiss Marse Chan; an' ole marster, aldo' he never say +much, he wuz jes' ez please' ez ole missis. He call me in de room +an' made me tole 'im all 'bout it, an' when I got th'oo he gi' me +five dollars an' a pyar of breeches. + +"But ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he nuver did furgive Marse Chan, an' +Miss Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. +Dey's jes' like a catfish: you can n' tek hole on 'em like udder +folks, an' when you gits 'im yo' can n' always hole 'em. + +"What meks me think so? Heaps o' things--dis: Marse Chan he done +gi' Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet +'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' +sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! +she wouldn' even speak to him arfter dat! + +"Don' I 'member dat mawnin'! + +"We wuz gwine fox-huntin', 'bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter +de dull, an' we met Miss Anne ridin' 'long wid anurr lady an' two +gent'mens whar wuz stayin' at her house. Dyar wuz always some one +or nurr dyar co'ting her. Well, dat mawnin' we meet 'em right in +de road. 'Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, +an' he raises he hat ez he pahss, an' she looks right at 'im wid +her head up in de yair like she nuver see 'im befo' in her born +days; an' when she comes by me, she sez, 'Good-mawnin', Sam!' +Gord! I nuver see nuthin' like de look dat come on Marse Chan's +face when she pahss 'im like dat. He gi' de sorrel a pull dat +fotch 'im back settin' down in de san' on he hanches. He ve'y lips +wuz white. I tried to keep up wid 'im, but 'twarn' no use. He sont +me back home pres'n'y, an' he rid on. I sez to myself, 'Cun'l +Chahmb'lin, don' yo' meet Marse Chan dis mawnin'. He ain' bin +lookin' 'roun' de ole schoolhouse, whar he an' Miss Anne use' to +go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin'. He won' stan' +no prodjickin' to-day.' + +"He nuver come home dat night tell 'way late, an' ef he'd been +fox-huntin' it mus' ha' been de ole red whar lives down in de +greenscum mashes he'd been chasin'. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up +wid sweat an' mire sut'n'y did hu't me. He walked up to de stable +wid he head down all de way, an' I'se seen 'im go eighty miles of +a winter day, an' prance into de stable at night ez fresh ez if he +hed jes' cantered over to ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's to supper. I +nuver seen a hoss beat so sence I knowed de fetlock from de +fo'lock, an' bad ez he wuz he wan' ez bad ez Marse Chan. + +"Whew! he didn' git over dat thing, seh--he nuver did git over +it. + +"De war come on jes' den, an' Marse Chan wuz elected cap'n; but he +wouldn' tek it. He said Firginia hadn' seceded, an' he wuz gwine +stan' by her. Den dey 'lected Mr. Gordon cap'n. + +"I sut'n'y did wan' Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he +wuz gwine tek me wid 'im. He wan' gwine widout Sam. An' beside, he +look so po' an' thin, I thought he wuz gwine die. + +"Of co'se, ole missis she heared 'bout it, an' she met Miss Anne +in de road, an' cut her jes' like Miss Anne cut Marse Chan. + +"Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody! So we wuz mo' strangers dan +ef we hadn' live' in a hundred miles of each urr. An' Marse Chan +he wuz gittin' thinner an' thinner, an' Firginia she come out, an' +den Marse Chan he went to Richmond an' listed, an' come back an' +sey he wuz a private, an' he didn' know whe'r he could tek me or +not. He writ to Mr. Gordon, hows'ever, an' 'twuz 'cided dat when +he went I wuz to go 'long an' wait on him an' de cap'n too. I +didn' min' dat, yo' know, long ez I could go wid Marse Chan, an' I +like' Mr. Gordon, anyways. + +"Well, one night Marse Chan come back from de offis wid a telegram +dat say, 'Come at once,' so he wuz to start nex' mawnin'. He +uniform wuz all ready, gray wid yaller trimmin's, an' mine wuz +ready too, an' he had ole marster's sword, whar de State gi' 'im +in de Mexikin war; an' he trunks wuz all packed wid ev'rything in +'em, an' my chist was packed too, an' Jim Rasher he druv 'em over +to de depo' in de waggin, an' we wuz to start nex' mawnin' 'bout +light. Dis wuz 'bout de las' o' spring, you know. Dat night ole +missis made Marse Chan dress up in he uniform, an' he sut'n'y did +look splendid, wid he long mustache an' he wavin' hyar an' he tall +figger. + +"Arfter supper he come down an' sez: 'Sam, I wan' you to tek dis +note an' kyar it over to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, an' gi' it to Miss +Anne wid yo' own han's, an' bring me wud what she sez. Don' let +any one know 'bout it, or know why you've gone.' 'Yes, seh,' sez +I. + +"Yo' see, I knowed Miss Anne's maid over at ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's--dat wuz Judy whar is my wife now--an' I knowed I +could wuk it. So I tuk de roan an' rid over, an' tied 'im down de +hill in de cedars, an' I wen' 'roun' to de back yard. 'Twuz a +right blowy sort o' night; de moon wuz jes' risin', but de clouds +wuz so big it didn' shine 'cep' th'oo a crack now an' den. I soon +foun' my gal, an' arfter tellin' her two or three lies 'bout +herse'f, I got her to go in an' ax Miss Anne to come to de do'. +When she come, I gi' her de note, an' arfter a little while she +bro't me anurr, an' I tole her good-bye, an' she gi' me a dollar, +an' I come home an' gi' de letter to Marse Chan. He read it, an' +tole me to have de hosses ready at twenty minits to twelve at de +corner of de garden. An' jes' befo' dat he come out ez ef he wuz +gwine to bed, but instid he come, an' we all struck out to'ds +Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When we got mos' to de gate, de hosses got +sort o' skeered, an' I see dey wuz some'n or somebody standin' +jes' inside; an' Marse Chan he jumpt off de sorrel an' flung me de +bridle an' he walked up. + +"She spoke fust ('twuz Miss Anne had done come out dyar to meet +Marse Chan), an' she sez, jes' ez cold ez a chill, 'Well, seh, I +granted your favor. I wished to relieve myse'f of de obligations +you placed me under a few months ago, when you made me a present +of my father, whom you fust insulted an' then prevented from +gittin' satisfaction.' + +"Marse Chan he didn' speak fur a minit, an' den he said: 'Who is +with you?' Dat wuz ev'y wud. + +"'No one,' sez she; 'I came alone.' + +"'My God!' sez he, 'you didn' come all through those woods by +yourse'f at this time o' night?' + +"'Yes, I'm not afraid,' sez she, (An' heah dis nigger! I don' +b'lieve she wuz.) + +"De moon come out, an' I cotch sight o' her stan'in' dyar in her +white dress, wid de cloak she had wrapped herse'f up in drapped +off on de groun', an' she didn' look like she wuz 'feared o' +nuthin'. She wuz mons'us purty ez she stood dyar wid de green +bushes behine her, an' she hed jes' a few flowers in her breas'-- +right hyah--and some leaves in her sorrel hyar; an' de moon come +out an' shined down on her hyar an' her frock an' 'peared like de +light wuz jes' stan'in' off it ez she stood dyar lookin' at Marse +Chan wid her head tho'd back, jes' like dat mawnin' when she pahss +Marse Chan in de road widout speakin' to 'im, an' sez to me, +'Good-mawnin', Sam.' + +"Marse Chan, he den tole her he hed come to say good-bye to her, +ez he wuz gwine 'way to de war nex' mawnin'. I wuz watchin' on +her, an' I tho't, when Marse Chan tole her dat, she sort o' +started an' looked up at 'im like she wuz mighty sorry, an' +'peared like she didn' stan' quite so straight arfter dat. Den +Marse Chan he went on talkin' right fars' to her; an' he tole her +how he had loved her ever sence she wuz a little bit o' baby mos', +an' how he nuver 'membered de time when he hedn't 'spected to +marry her. He tole her it wuz his love for her dat hed made 'im +stan' fust at school an' collige, an' hed kep' 'im good an' pure; +an' now he wuz gwine 'way, wouldn't she let it be like 'twuz in +ole times, an' ef he come back from de war wouldn' she try to +think on him ez she use' to do when she wuz a little guirl? + +"Marse Chan he had done been talkin' so serious, he hed done tuk +Miss Anne's han', an' wuz lookin' down in her face like he wuz +list'nin' wid his eyes. + +"Arfter a minit Miss Anne she said somethin', an' Marse Chan he +cotch her urr han' an' sez: + +"'But if you love me, Anne?' + +"When he said dat, she tu'ned her head 'way from 'im, an' wait' a +minit, an' den she said--right clear: + +"'But I don' love yo'.' (Jes' dem th'ee wuds!) De wuds fall right +slow--like dirt falls out a spade on a coffin when yo's buryin' +anybody, an' seys, 'Uth to uth.' Marse Chan he jes' let her hand +drap, an' he stiddy hisse'f 'g'inst de gate-pos', an' he didn' +speak torekly. When he did speak, all he sez wuz: + +"'I mus' see you home safe.' + +"I 'clar, marster, I didn' know 'twuz Marse Chan's voice tell I +look at 'im right good. Well, she wouldn' let 'im go wid her. She +jes' wrap' her cloak 'roun' her shoulders, an' wen' 'long back by +herse'f, widout doin' more'n jes' look up once at Marse Chan +leanin' dyah 'g'inst de gate-pos' in he sodger clo's, wid he eyes +on de groun'. She said 'Good-bye' sort o' sorf, an' Marse Chan, +widout lookin' up, shake han's wid her, an' she wuz done gone down +de road. Soon ez she got 'mos' 'roun' de curve, Marse Chan he +followed her, keepin' under de trees so ez not to be seen, an' I +led de hosses on down de road behine 'im. He kep' 'long behine her +tell she wuz safe in de house, an' den he come an' got on he hoss, +an' we all come home. + +"Nex' mawnin' we all come off to j'ine de army. An' dey wuz a- +drillin' an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while, an' dey went 'long +wid all de res' o' de army, an' I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he +boots, an' look arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. +An' Marse Chan, he wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solumn +an' moanful all de time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be +a fight. Den he'd peartin' up, an' he alwuz rode at de head o' de +company, 'cause he wuz tall; an' hit wan' on'y in battles whar all +his company wuz dat he went, but he use' to volunteer whenever de +cun'l wanted anybody to fine out anythin', an' 'twuz so dangersome +he didn' like to mek one man go no sooner'n anurr, yo' know, an' +ax'd who'd volunteer. He 'peared to like to go prowlin' aroun' +'mong dem Yankees, an' he use' to tek me wid 'im whenever he +could. Yes, seh, he sut'n'y waz a good sodger! He didn' mine +bullets no more'n he did so many draps o' rain. But I use' to be +pow'ful skeered sometimes. It jes' use' to 'pear like fun to 'im. +In camp he use' to be so sorrerful he'd hardly open he mouf. You'd +'a' tho't he wuz seekin', he used to look so moanful; but jes' le' +'im git into danger, an' he use' to be like ole times--jolly an' +laughin' like when he wuz a boy. + +"When Cap'n Gordon got he leg shot off, dey mek Marse Chan cap'n +on de spot, 'cause one o' de lieutenants got kilt de same day, an' +turr one (named Mr. Ronny) wan' no 'count, an' de company said +Marse Chan wuz de man. + +"An' Marse Chan he wuz jes' de same. He didn' never mention Miss +Anne's name, but I knowed he wuz thinkin' on her constant. One +night he wuz settin' by de fire in camp, an' Mr. Ronny--he wuz de +secon' lieutenant--got to talkin' 'bout ladies, an' he say all +sorts o' things 'bout 'em, an' I see Marse Chan kinder lookin' +mad; an' de lieutenant mention Miss Anne's name. He had been +courtin' Miss Anne 'bout de time Marse Chan fit de duil wid her +pa, an' Miss Anne hed kicked 'im, dough he wuz mighty rich, 'cause +he warn' nuthin' but a half-strainer, an' 'cause she like Marse +Chan, I believe, dough she didn' speak to 'im; an' Mr. Ronny he +got drunk, an' 'cause Cun'l Chahmb'lin tole 'im not to come dyah +no more, he got mighty mad. An' dat evenin' I'se tellin' yo' +'bout, he wuz talkin', an' he mention' Miss Anne's name. I see +Marse Chan tu'n he eye 'roun' on 'im an' keep it on he face, and +pres'n'y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun dyah yit. He +didn' mention her name dat time; but he said dey wuz all on 'em a +parecel of stuck-up 'risticrats, an' her pa wan' no gent'man +anyway, an'--I don' know what he wuz gwine say (he nuver said it), +fur ez he got dat far Marse Chan riz up an' hit 'im a crack, an' +he fall like he hed been hit wid a fence-rail. He challenged Marse +Chan to fight a duil, an' Marse Chan he excepted de challenge, an' +dey wuz gwine fight; but some on 'em tole 'im Marse Chan wan' +gwine mek a present o' him to his fam'ly, an' he got somebody to +bre'k up de duil; 'twan' nuthin' dough, but he wuz 'fred to fight +Marse Chan. An' purty soon he lef' de comp'ny. + +"Well, I got one o' de gent'mens to write Judy a letter for me, +an' I tole her all 'bout de fight, an' how Marse Chan knock Mr. +Ronny over fur speakin' discontemptuous o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, an' I +tole her how Marse Chan' wuz a-dyin' fur love o' Miss Anne. An' +Judy she gits Miss Anne to read de letter fur her. Den Miss Anne +she tells her pa, an'--you mind, Judy tells me all dis +arfterwards, an' she say when Cun'l Chahmb'lin hear 'bout it, he +wuz settin' on de poach, an' he set still a good while, an' den he +sey to hisse'f: + +"'Well, he earn' he'p bein' a Whig.' + +"An' den he gits up an' walks up to Miss Anne an' looks at her +right hard; an' Miss Anne she hed done tu'n away her haid an' wuz +makin' out she wuz fixin' a rosebush 'g'inst de poach; an' when +her pa kep' lookin' at her, her face got jes' de color o' de roses +on de bush, and pres'n'y her pa sez: + +"'Anne!' + +"An' she tu'ned roun', an' he sez: + +"'Do yo' want 'im?' + +"An' she sez, 'Yes,' an' put her head on he shoulder an' begin to +cry; an' he sez: + +"'Well, I won' stan' between yo' no longer. Write to 'im an' say +so.' + +"We didn' know nuthin' 'bout dis den. We wuz a-fightin' an' a- +fightin' all dat time; an' come one day a letter to Marse Chan, +an' I see 'im start to read it in his tent, an' he face hit look +so cu'ious, an' he han's trembled so I couldn' mek out what wuz de +matter wid 'im. An' he fol' de letter up an' wen' out an' wen' way +down 'hine de camp, an' stayed dyah 'bout nigh an hour. Well, seh, +I wuz on de lookout for 'im when he come back, an', fo' Gord, ef +he face didn' shine like a angel's! I say to myse'f, 'Um'm! ef de +glory o' Gord ain' done shine on 'im!' An' what yo' 'spose 'twuz? + +"He tuk me wid 'im dat evenin', an' he tell me he hed done git a +letter from Miss Anne, an' Marse Chan he eyes look like gre't big +stars, an' he face wuz jes' like 'twuz dat mawnin' when de sun riz +up over de low groun', an' I see 'im stan'in' dyah wid de pistil +in he han', lookin' at it, an' not knowin' but what it mout be de +lars' time, an' he done mek up he mine not to shoot ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin fur Miss Anne's sake, what writ 'im de letter. + +"He fol' de letter wha' was in his han' up, an' put it in he +inside pocket--right dyar on de lef' side; an' den he tole me he +tho't mebbe we wuz gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex' two or th'ee +days, an' arfter dat ef Gord speared 'im he'd git a leave o' +absence fur a few days, an' we'd go home. + +"Well, dat night de orders come, an' we all hed to git over to'ds +Romney; an' we rid all night till 'bout light; an' we halted right +on a little creek, an' we stayed dyah till mos' breakfas' time, +an' I see Marse Chan set down on de groun' 'hine a bush an' read +dat letter over an' over. I watch 'im, an' de battle wuz a-goin' +on, but we had orders to stay 'hine de hill, an' ev'y now an' den +de bullets would cut de limbs o' de trees right over us, an' one +o' dem big shells what goes 'Awhar--awhar--awhar!' would fall +right 'mong us; but Marse Chan he didn' mine it no mo'n nuthin'! +Den it 'peared to git closer an' thicker, and Marse Chan he calls +me, an' I crep' up, an' he sez: + +"'Sam, we'se goin' to win in dis battle, an' den we'll go home an' +git married; an' I'se goin' home wid a star on my collar.' An' den +he sez, 'Ef I'm wounded, kyar me home, yo' hear?' An' I sez, 'Yes, +Marse Chan.' + +"Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles, an' we mounted; an' +de orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's comp'ny +wuz de secon', an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. +Hit wuz de wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, +'Charge 'em!' an' my king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did +dat day. Hit wuz jes' like hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I +'long wid de res') an' up de hill right to'ds de cannons, an' de +fire wuz so strong dyar (dey hed a whole rigiment o' infintrys +layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our lines sort o' broke an' +stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz jes' 'bout to bre'k +all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch hol' de fleg an' +hollers, 'Foller me!' an' rid strainin' up de hill 'mong de +cannons. I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good length ahead +o' ev'y urr hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a foxhunt, an' de +whole rigiment right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuver hear thunder! Fust +thing I knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up +'g'inst de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' +de corn pile. An' dat's what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'spects. +Judy she say she think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de +bank. 0' co'se, Providence put de bank dyah, but how come +Providence nuver saved Marse Chan? When I look' 'roun', de roan +wuz layin' dyah by me, stone dead, wid a cannon-ball gone 'mos' +th'oo him, an' our men hed done swep' dem on t'urr side from de +top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, de sorrel come gallupin' back +wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' down on one side to his +knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' Gord! I 'specks dey done kill Marse +Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.' + +"I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar, wid a whole lot o' +dead men, an' some not dead yit, onder one o' de guns wid de fleg +still in he han', an' a bullet right th'oo he body, lay Marse +Chan. I tu'n 'im over an' call 'im, 'Marse Chan!' but 'twan' no +use, he wuz done gone home, sho' 'nuff. I pick' 'im up in my arms +wid de fleg still in he han's, an' toted 'im back jes' like I did +dat day when he wuz a baby, an' ole marster gin 'im to me in my +arms, an' sez he could trus' me, an' tell me to tek keer on 'im +long ez he lived. I kyar'd 'im 'way off de battlefiel' out de way +o' de balls, an' I laid 'im down onder a big tree till I could git +somebody to ketch de sorrel for me. He wuz cotched arfter a while, +an' I hed some money, so I got some pine plank an' made a coffin +dat evenin', an' wrapt Marse Chan's body up in de fleg, an' put +'im in de coffin; but I didn' nail de top on strong, 'cause I +knowed ole missis wan' see 'im; an' I got a' ambulance an' set out +for home dat night. We reached dyar de nex' evein', arfter +travellin' all dat night an' all nex' day. + +"Hit 'peared like somethin' hed tole ole missis we wuz comin' so; +for when we got home she wuz waitin' for us--done drest up in her +best Sunday clo'es, an' stan'n' at de head o' de big steps, an' +ole marster settin' in his big cheer--ez we druv up de hill to'ds +de house, I drivin' de ambulance an' de sorrel leadin' 'long +behine wid de stirrups crost over de saddle. + +"She come down to de gate to meet us. We took de coffin out de +ambulance an' kyar'd it right into de big parlor wid de pictures +in it, whar dey use' to dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a +schoolboy, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin use' to come over, an' go wid +ole missis into her charmber an' tek her things off. In dyar we +laid de coffin on two o' de cheers, an' ole missis nuver said a +wud; she jes' looked so ole an' white. + +"When I had tell 'em all 'bout it, I tu'ned right 'roun' an' rid +over to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, 'cause I knowed dat wuz what Marse +Chan he'd 'a' wanted me to do. I didn' tell nobody whar I wuz +gwine, 'cause yo' know none on 'em hadn' nuver speak to Miss Anne, +not sence de duil, an' dey didn' know 'bout de letter. + +"When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne a-stan'in' on de +poach watchin' me ez I rid up. I tied my hoss to de fence, an' +walked up de parf. She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz +somethin' de motter, an' she wuz mighty pale. I drapt my cap down +on de een' o' de steps an' went up. She nuver opened her mouf; +jes' stan' right still an' keep her eyes on my face. Fust, I +couldn' speak; den I cotch my voice, an' I say, 'Marse Chan, he +done got he furlough.' + +"Her face was mighty ashy, an' she sort o' shook, but she didn' +fall. She tu'ned 'roun' an' said, 'Git me de ker'ige!' Dat wuz +all. + +"When de ker'ige come 'roun', she hed put on her bonnet, an' wuz +ready. Ez she got in, she sey to me, 'Hev yo' brought him home?' +an' we drove 'long, I ridin' behine. + +"When we got home, she got out, an' walked up de big walk--up to +de poach by herse'f. Ole missis hed done fin' de letter in Marse +Chan's pocket, wid de love in it, while I wuz 'way, an' she wuz a- +waitin' on de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole missis cry +when she find de letter, an' dat she sut'n'y did cry over it, +pintedly. + +"Well, seh, Miss Anne she walks right up de steps, mos' up to ole +missis stan'in' dyar on de poach, an' jes' falls right down mos' +to her, on her knees fust, an' den flat on her face right on de +flo', ketchin' at ole missis' dress wid her two han's--so. + +"Ole missis stood for 'bout a minit lookin' down at her, an' den +she drapt down on de flo' by her, an' took her in bofe her arms. + +"I couldn' see, I wuz cryin' so myse'f, an' ev'ybody wuz cryin'. +But dey went in arfter a while in de parlor, an' shet de do'; an' +I heahd 'em say, Miss Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an' +kissed it, an' kissed Marse Chan, an' call 'im by his name, an' +her darlin', an' ole missis lef' her cryin' in dyar tell some on +'em went in, an' found her done faint on de flo'. + +"Judy (she's my wife) she tell me she heah Miss Anne when she axed +ole missis mout she wear mo'nin' fur 'im. I don' know how dat is; +but when we buried 'im nex' day, she wuz de one whar walked arfter +de coffin, holdin' ole marster, an' ole missis she walked next to +'em. + +"Well, we buried Marse Chan dyar in de ole grabeyard, wid de fleg +wrapped roun' 'im, an' he face lookin' like it did dat mawnin' +down in de low groun's, wid de new sun shinin' on it so peaceful. + +"Miss Anne she nuver went home to stay arfter dat; she stay wid +ole marster an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived. Dat warn' so +mighty long, 'cause ole marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz +fallerin' fur wheat--I had jes' married Judy den--an' ole missis +she warn' long behine him. We buried her by him next summer. Miss +Anne she went in de hospitals toreckly arfter ole missis died; an' +jes' fo' Richmond fell she come home sick wid de fever. Yo' nuver +would 'a' knowed her fur de same ole Miss Anne. She wuz light ez a +piece o' peth, an' so white, 'cep' her eyes an' her sorrel hyar, +an' she kep' on gittin' whiter an' weaker. Judy she sut'n'y did +nuss her faithful. But she nuver got no betterment! De fever an' +Marse Chan's bein' kilt hed done strain her, an' she died jes' fo' +de folks wuz sot free. + +"So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, in a place whar ole +missis hed tole us to leave, an' dey's bofe on 'em sleep side by +side over in de ole grabeyard at home. + +"An' will yo' please tell me, marster? Dey tells me dat de Bible +sey dyar won' be marryin' nor givin' in marriage in heaven, but I +don' b'lieve it signifies dat--does you?" + +I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in some other +interpretation, together with several spare "eighteen-pences," as +he called them, for which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode +away I heard him calling across the fence to his wife, who was +standing in the door of a small whitewashed cabin, near which we +had been standing for some time: + +"Judy, have Marse Chan's dawg got home?" + + + + + + +"POSSON JONE" + +BY GEORGE W. CABLE + +Bliss Perry mentions this story as one that presents "people and +events and circumstances, blended into an artistic whole that +defies analysis." It illustrates dramatic incident, local color, +and complex character analysis. + + + + +"POSSON JONE'" + +[Footnote: From "Old Creole Days," by George W. Cable. Copyright, +1890, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +To Jules St.-Ange--elegant little heathen--there yet remained at +manhood a remembrance of having been to school, and of having been +taught by a stony-headed Capuchin that the world is round--for +example, like a cheese. This round world is a cheese to be eaten +through, and Jules had nibbled quite into his cheese-world already +at twenty-two. + +He realized this as he idled about one Sunday morning where the +intersection of Royal and Conti streets some seventy years ago +formed a central corner of New Orleans. Yes, yes, the trouble was +he had been wasteful and honest. He discussed the matter with that +faithful friend and confidant, Baptiste, his yellow body-servant. +They concluded that, papa's patience and tante's pin money having +been gnawed away quite to the rind, there were left open only +these few easily enumerated resorts: to go to work--they +shuddered; to join Major Innerarity's filibustering expedition; or +else--why not?--to try some games of confidence. At twenty-two one +must begin to be something. Nothing else tempted; could that +avail? One could but try. It is noble to try; and, besides, they +were hungry. If one could "make the friendship" of some person +from the country, for instance, with money, not expert at cards or +dice, but, as one would say, willing to learn, one might find +cause to say some "Hail Marys." + +The sun broke through a clearing sky, and Baptiste pronounced it +good for luck. There had been a hurricane in the night. The weed- +grown tile-roofs were still dripping, and from lofty brick and low +adobe walls a rising steam responded to the summer sunlight. +Upstreet, and across the Rue du Canal, one could get glimpses of +the gardens in Faubourg Ste.-Marie standing in silent +wretchedness, so many tearful Lucretias, tattered victims of the +storm. Short remnants of the wind now and then came down the +narrow street in erratic puffs heavily laden with odors of broken +boughs and torn flowers, skimmed the little pools of rain-water in +the deep ruts of the unpaved street, and suddenly went away to +nothing, like a juggler's butterflies or a young man's money. + +It was very picturesque, the Rue Royale. The rich and poor met +together. The locksmith's swinging key creaked next door to the +bank; across the way, crouching, mendicant-like, in the shadow of +a great importing-house, was the mud laboratory of the mender of +broken combs. Light balconies overhung the rows of showy shops and +stores open for trade this Sunday morning, and pretty Latin faces +of the higher class glanced over their savagely pronged railings +upon the passers below. At some windows hung lace curtains, +flannel duds at some, and at others only the scraping and sighing +one-hinged shutter groaning toward Paris after its neglectful +master. + +M. St.-Ange stood looking up and down the street for nearly an +hour. But few ladies, only the inveterate mass-goers, were out. +About the entrance of the frequent cafes the masculine gentility +stood leaning on canes, with which now one and now another +beckoned to Jules, some even adding pantomimic hints of the social +cup. + +M. St.-Ange remarked to his servant without turning his head that +somehow he felt sure he should soon return those bons that the +mulatto had lent him. + +"What will you do with them?" + +"Me!" said Baptiste, quickly; "I will go and see the bull-fight in +the Place Congo." + +"There is to be a bull-fight? But where is M. Cayetano?" + +"Ah, got all his affairs wet in the tornado. Instead of his +circus, they are to have a bull-fight--not an ordinary bull-fight +with sick horses, but a buffalo-and-tiger fight. I would not miss +it--" + +Two or three persons ran to the opposite corner, and commenced +striking at something with their canes. Others followed. Can M. +St.-Ange and servant, who hasten forward--can the Creoles, Cubans, +Spaniards, San Domingo refugees, and other loungers--can they hope +it is a fight? They hurry forward. Is a man in a fit? The crowd +pours in from the side-streets. Have they killed a so-long snake? +Bareheaded shopmen leave their wives, who stand upon chairs. The +crowd huddles and packs. Those on the outside make little leaps +into the air, trying to be tall. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Have they caught a real live rat?" + +"Who is hurt?" asks some one in English. + +"Personne," replies a shopkeeper; "a man's hat blow' in the +gutter; but he has it now. Jules pick' it. See, that is the man, +head and shoulders on top the res'." + +"He in the homespun?" asks a second shopkeeper. "Humph! an +Americain--a West-Floridian; bah!" + +"But wait; 'st! he is speaking; listen!" + +"To who is he speak--?" + +"Sh-sh-sh! to Jules." + +"Jules who?" + +"Silence, you! To Jules St.-Ange, what howe me a bill since long +time. Sh-sh-sh!" + +Then the voice was heard. + +Its owner was a man of giant stature, with a slight stoop in his +shoulders, as if he was making a constant, good-natured attempt to +accommodate himself to ordinary doors and ceilings. His bones were +those of an ox. His face was marked more by weather than age, and +his narrow brow was bald and smooth. He had instantaneously formed +an opinion of Jules St.-Ange, and the multitude of words, most of +them lingual curiosities, with which he was rasping the wide-open +ears of his listeners, signified, in short, that, as sure as his +name was Parson Jones, the little Creole was a "plum gentleman." + +M. St.-Ange bowed and smiled, and was about to call attention, by +both gesture and speech, to a singular object on top of the still +uncovered head, when the nervous motion of the Americain +anticipated him, as, throwing up an immense hand, he drew down a +large roll of bank-notes. The crowd laughed, the West-Floridian +joining, and began to disperse. + +"Why, that money belongs to Smyrny Church," said the giant. + +"You are very dengerous to make your money expose like that, Misty +Posson Jone'," said St.-Ange, counting it with his eyes. + +The countryman gave a start and smile of surprise. + +"How d'dyou know my name was Jones?" he asked; but, without +pausing for the Creole's answer, furnished in his reckless way +some further specimens of West-Floridian English; and the +conciseness with which he presented full intelligence of his home, +family, calling, lodging-house, and present and future plans, +might have passed for consummate art, had it not been the most +run-wild nature. "And I've done been to Mobile, you know, on +busiNESS for Bethesdy Church. It's the on'yest time I ever been +from home; now you wouldn't of believed that, would you? But I +admire to have saw you, that's so. You've got to come and eat with +me. Me and my boy ain't been fed yit. What might one call yo' +name? Jools? Come on, Jools. Come on, Colossus. That's my niggah-- +his name's Colossus of Rhodes. Is that yo' yallah boy, Jools! +Fetch him along, Colossus. It seems like a special proviDENCE.- +Jools, do you believe in a special proviDENCE?" + +Jules said he did. + +The new-made friends moved briskly off, followed by Baptiste and a +short, square, old negro, very black and grotesque, who had +introduced himself to the mulatto, with many glittering and +cavernous smiles, as "d'body-sarvant of d'Rev'n' Mr. Jones." + +Both pairs enlivened their walk with conversation. Parson Jones +descanted upon the doctrine he had mentioned, as illustrated in +the perplexities of cotton-growing, and concluded that there would +always be "a special proviDENCE again' cotton untell folks quits +a-pressin' of it and haulin' of it on Sundays!" + +"Je dis," said St.-Ange, in response, "I thing you is juz right. I +believe, me, strong-strong in the improvidence, yes. You know my +papa he hown a sugah-plantation, you know. 'Jules, me son,' he say +one time to me, 'I goin' to make one baril sugah to fedge the moze +high price in New Orleans.' Well, he take his bez baril sugah--I +nevah see a so careful man like me papa always to make a so +beautiful sugah et sirop. 'Jules, go at Father Pierre an' ged this +lill pitcher fill with holy-water, an' tell him sen' his tin +bucket, and I will make it fill with quitte.' I ged the holy- +water; my papa sprinkle it over the baril, an' make one cross on +the 'ead of the baril." + +"Why, Jools," said Parson Jones, "that didn't do no good." + +"Din do no good! Id broughd the so great value! You can strike me +dead if thad baril sugah din fedge the more high cost than any +other in the city. Parce-que, the man what buy that baril sugah he +make a mistake of one hundred pound "--falling back--"Mais +certainlee!"' + +"And you think that was growin' out of the holy-water?" asked the +parson. + +"Mais, what could make it else? Id could not be the quitte, +because my papa keep the bucket, an' forget to sen' the quitte to +Father Pierre." + +Parson Jones was disappointed. + +"Well, now, Jools, you know, I don't think that was right. I +reckon you must be a plum Catholic." + +M. St.-Ange shrugged. He would not deny his faith. + +"I am a Catholique, mais"--brightening as he hoped to recommend +himself anew--"not a good one." + +"Well, you know," said Jones--"where's Colossus? Oh! all right. +Colossus strayed off a minute in Mobile, and I plum lost him for +two days. Here's the place; come in. Colossus and this boy can go +to the kitchen.--Now, Colossus, what AIR you a-beckonin' at me +faw?" + +He let his servant draw him aside and address him in a whisper. + +"Oh, go 'way!" said the parson with a jerk. "Who's goin' to throw +me? What? Speak louder. Why, Colossus, you shayn't talk so, saw. +'Pon my soul, you're the mightiest fool I ever taken up with. Jest +you go down that alley-way with this yalla boy, and don't show yo' +face untell yo' called!" + +The negro begged; the master wrathily insisted. + +"Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or shell I hev to strike +you, saw?" + +"O Mahs Jimmy, I--I's gwine; but"--he ventured nearer--"don't on +no account drink nothin', Mahs Jimmy." + +Such was the negro's earnestness that he put one foot in the +gutter, and fell heavily against his master. The parson threw him +off angrily. + +"Thar, now! Why, Colossus, you most of been dosted with sumthin'; +yo' plum crazy.--Humph, come on, Jools, let's eat! Humph! to tell +me that when I never taken a drop, exceptin' for chills, in my +life--which he knows so as well as me!" + +The two masters began to ascend a stair. + +"Mais, he is a sassy; I would sell him, me," said the young +Creole. + +"No, I wouldn't do that," replied the parson; "though there is +people in Bethesdy who says he is a rascal. He's a powerful smart +fool. Why, that boy's got money, Jools; more money than religion, +I reckon. I'm shore he fallen into mighty bad company"--they +passed beyond earshot. + +Baptiste and Colossus, instead of going to the tavern kitchen, +passed to the next door and entered the dark rear corner of a low +grocery, where, the law notwithstanding, liquor was covertly sold +to slaves. There, in the quiet company of Baptiste and the grocer, +the colloquial powers of Colossus, which were simply prodigious, +began very soon to show themselves. + +"For whilst," said he, "Mahs Jimmy has eddication, you know-- +whilst he has eddication, I has 'scretion. He has eddication and I +has 'scretion, an' so we gits along." + +He drew a black bottle down the counter, and, laying half his +length upon the damp board, continued: + +"As a p'inciple I discredits de imbimin' of awjus liquors. De +imbimin' of awjus liquors, de wiolution of de Sabbaf, de playin' +of de fiddle, and de usin' of by-words, dey is de fo' sins of de +conscience; an' if any man sin de fo' sins of de conscience, de +debble done sharp his fork fo' dat man.--Ain't that so, boss?" + +The grocer was sure it was so. + +"Neberdeless, mind you"--here the orator brimmed his glass from +the bottle and swallowed the contents with a dry eye--"mind you, a +roytious man, sech as ministers of de gospel and dere body- +sarvants, can take a LEETLE for de weak stomach." + +But the fascinations of Colossus's eloquence must not mislead us; +this is the story of a true Christian; to wit, Parson Jones. + +The parson and his new friend ate. But the coffee M. St.-Ange +declared he could not touch; it was too wretchedly bad. At the +French Market, near by, there was some noble coffee. This, +however, would have to be bought, and Parson Jones had scruples. + +"You see, Jools, every man has his conscience to guide him, which +it does so in--" + +"Oh, yes!" cried St.-Ange, "conscien'; thad is the bez, Posson +Jone'. Certainlee! I am a CATHOLIQUE, you is a SCHISMATIQUE; you +thing it is wrong to dring some coffee--well, then, it IS wrong; +you thing it is wrong to make the sugah to ged the so large price +--well, then, it IS wrong; I thing it is right--well, then, it IS +right; it is all 'abit; c'est tout. What a man thing is right, IS +RIGHT; 'tis all 'abit. A man muz nod go again' his conscien'. My +faith! do you thing I would go again' my conscien'? Mais allons, +led us go and ged some coffee." + +"Jools." + +"Wat?" + +"Jools, it ain't the drinkin' of coffee, but the buyin' of it on a +Sabbath. You must really excuse me, Jools it's again' conscience, +you know." + +"Ah!" said St.-Ange, "c'est very true. For you it would be a sin, +mais for me it is only 'abit. Rilligion is a very strange; I know +a man one time, he thing it was wrong to go to cock-fight Sunday +evening. I thing it is all 'abit. Mais, come, Posson Jone'; I have +got one friend, Miguel; led us go at his house and ged some +coffee. Come; Miguel have no familie; only him and Joe--always +like to see friend; allons, led us come yonder." + +"Why, Jools, my dear friend, you know," said the shamefaced +parson, "I never visit on Sundays." + +"Never w'at?" asked the astounded Creole. + +"No," said Jones, smiling awkwardly. + +"Never visite?" + +"Exceptin' sometimes amongst church-members," said Parson Jones. + +"Mais," said the seductive St.-Ange, "Miguel and Joe is church- +member'--certainlee! They love to talk about rilligion. Come at +Miguel and talk about some rilligion. I am nearly expire for me +coffee." + +Parson Jones took his hat from beneath his chair and rose up. + +"Jools," said the weak giant, "I ought to be in church right now." + +"Mais, the church is right yonder at Miguel', yes. Ah!" continued +St.-Ange, as they descended the stairs, "I thing every man muz +have the rilligion he like' the bez--me, I like the Catholique +rilligion the bez-for me it IS the bez. Every man will sure go to +heaven if he like his rilligion the bez." + +"Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying his great hand tenderly +upon the Creole's shoulder, as they stepped out upon the +banquette, "do you think you have any shore hopes of heaven?" + +"Yass!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure-sure. I thing everybody will +go to heaven. I thing you will go, et I thing Miguel will go, et +Joe--everybody, I thing--mais, hof course, not if they not have +been christen'. Even I thing some niggers will go." + +"Jools," said the parson, stopping in his walk--"Jools, I DON'T +want to lose my niggah." + +"You will not loose him. With Baptiste he CANNOT ged loose." + +But Colossus's master was not reassured. + +"Now," said he, still tarrying, "this is jest the way; had I of +gone to church--" + +"Posson Jone'," said Jules. + +"What?" + +"I tell you. We goin' to church!" + +"Will you?" asked Jones, joyously. + +"Allons, come along," said Jules, taking his elbow. + +They walked down the Rue Chartres, passed several corners, and by +and by turned into a cross street. The parson stopped an instant +as they were turning and looked back up the street. + +"W'at you lookin'?" asked his companion. + +"I thought I saw Colossus," answered the parson, with an anxious +face; "I reckon 'twa'n't him, though." And they went on. + +The street they now entered was a very quiet one. The eye of any +chance passer would have been at once drawn to a broad, heavy, +white brick edifice on the lower side of the way, with a flag-pole +standing out like a bowsprit from one of its great windows, and a +pair of lamps hanging before a large closed entrance. It was a +theatre, honey-combed with gambling-dens. At this morning hour all +was still, and the only sign of life was a knot of little barefoot +girls gathered within its narrow shade, and each carrying an +infant relative. Into this place the parson and M. St.-Ange +entered, the little nurses jumping up from the sills to let them +pass in. + +A half-hour may have passed. At the end of that time the whole +juvenile company were laying alternate eyes and ears to the +chinks, to gather what they could of an interesting quarrel going +on within. + +"I did not, saw! I given you no cause of offence, saw! It's not +so, saw! Mister Jools simply mistaken the house, thinkin' it was a +Sabbath-school! No such thing, saw; I AIN'T bound to bet! Yes, I +kin git out. Yes, without bettin'! I hev a right to my opinion; I +reckon I'm a WHITE MAN, saw! No, saw! I on'y said I didn't think +you could get the game on them cards. 'Sno such thing, saw! I do +NOT know how to play! I wouldn't hev a rascal's money ef I should +win it! Shoot, ef you dare! You can kill me, but you cayn't scare +me! No, I shayn't bet! I'll die first! Yes, saw; Mr. Jools can bet +for me if he admires to; I ain't his mostah." + +Here the speaker seemed to direct his words to St.-Ange. + +"Saw, I don't understand you, saw. I never said I'd loan you money +to bet for me. I didn't suspicion this from you, saw. No, I won't +take any more lemonade; it's the most notorious stuff I ever +drank, saw!" + +M. St.-Ange's replies were in falsetto and not without effect; for +presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't +ask me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of +conscience with me, Jools." + +"Mais oui! 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same." + +"But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to +Smyrny, you know." + +"If I could make jus' ONE bet," said the persuasive St.-Ange, "I +would leave this place, fas'-fas', yes. If I had thing--mais I did +not soupspicion this from you, Posson Jone'---" + +"Don't, Jools, don't!" + +"No! Posson Jone'." + +"You're bound to win?" said the parson, wavering. + +"Mais certainement! But it is not to win that I want; 'tis me +conscien'--me honor!" + +"Well, Jools, I hope I'm not a-doin' no wrong. I'll loan you some +of this money if you say you'll come right out 'thout takin' your +winnin's." + +All was still. The peeping children could see the parson as he +lifted his hand to his breast-pocket. There it paused a moment in +bewilderment, then plunged to the bottom. It came back empty, and +fell lifelessly at his side. His head dropped upon his breast, his +eyes were for a moment closed, his broad palms were lifted and +pressed against his forehead, a tremor seized him, and he fell all +in a lump to the floor. The children ran off with their infant- +loads, leaving Jules St.-Ange swearing by all his deceased +relatives, first to Miguel and Joe, and then to the lifted parson, +that he did not know what had become of the money "except if" the +black man had got it. + +In the rear of ancient New Orleans, beyond the sites of the old +rampart, a trio of Spanish forts, where the town has since sprung +up and grown old, green with all the luxuriance of the wild Creole +summer, lay the Congo Plains. Here stretched the canvas of the +historic Cayetano, who Sunday after Sunday sowed the sawdust for +his circus-ring. + +But to-day the great showman had fallen short of his printed +promise. The hurricane had come by night, and with one fell swash +had made an irretrievable sop of everything. The circus trailed +away its bedraggled magnificence, and the ring was cleared for the +bull. + +Then the sun seemed to come out and work for the people. "See," +said the Spaniards, looking up at the glorious sky with its great, +white fleets drawn off upon the horizon--"see--heaven smiles upon +the bull-fight!" + +In the high upper seats of the rude amphitheatre sat the gaily- +decked wives and daughters of the Gascons, from the metaries along +the Ridge, and the chattering Spanish women of the Market, their +shining hair unbonneted to the sun. Next below were their husbands +and lovers in Sunday blouses, milkmen, butchers, bakers, black- +bearded fishermen, Sicilian fruiterers, swarthy Portuguese +sailors, in little woollen caps, and strangers of the graver sort; +mariners of England, Germany, and Holland. The lowest seats were +full of trappers, smugglers, Canadian voyageurs, drinking and +singing; Americains, too--more's the shame--from the upper rivers +--who will not keep their seats--who ply the bottle, and who will +get home by and by and tell how wicked Sodom is; broad-brimmed, +silver-braided Mexicans, too, with their copper cheeks and bat's +eyes, and their tinkling spurred heels. Yonder, in that quieter +section, are the quadroon women in their black lace shawls--and +there is Baptiste; and below them are the turbaned black women, +and there is--but he vanishes--Colossus. + +The afternoon is advancing, yet the sport, though loudly demanded, +does not begin. The Americains grow derisive and find pastime in +gibes and raillery. They mock the various Latins with their +national inflections, and answer their scowls with laughter. Some +of the more aggressive shout pretty French greetings to the women +of Gascony, and one bargeman, amid peals of applause, stands on a +seat and hurls a kiss to the quadrooms. The mariners of England, +Germany, and Holland, as spectators, like the fun, while the +Spaniards look black and cast defiant imprecations upon their +persecutors. Some Gascons, with timely caution, pick their women +out and depart, running a terrible fire of gallantries. + +In hope of truce, a new call is raised for the bull: "The bull, +the bull!--hush!" + +In a tier near the ground a man is standing and calling--standing +head and shoulders above the rest--calling in the Americaine +tongue. Another man, big and red, named Joe, and a handsome little +Creole in elegant dress and full of laughter, wish to stop him, +but the flat-boatmen, ha-ha-ing and cheering, will not suffer it. +Ah, through some shameful knavery of the men, into whose hands he +has fallen, he is drunk! Even the women can see that; and now he +throws his arms wildly and raises his voice until the whole great +circle hears it. He is preaching! + +Ah! kind Lord, for a special providence now! The men of his own +nation--men from the land of the open English Bible and temperance +cup and song are cheering him on to mad disgrace. And now another +call for the appointed sport is drowned by the flat-boatmen +singing the ancient tune of Mear. You can hear the words-- + + "Old Grimes is dead, that good old soul" + +--from ribald lips and throats turned brazen with laughter, from +singers who toss their hats aloft and roll in their seats; the +chorus swells to the accompaniment of a thousand brogans-- + +"He used to wear an old gray coat All buttoned down before." + +A ribboned man in the arena is trying to be heard, and the Latins +raise one mighty cry for silence. The big red man gets a hand over +the parson's mouth, and the ribboned man seizes his moment. + +"They have been endeavoring for hours," he says, "to draw the +terrible animals from their dens, but such is their strength and +fierceness, that--" + +His voice is drowned. Enough has been heard to warrant the +inference that the beasts cannot be whipped out of the storm- +drenched cages to which menagerie-life and long starvation have +attached them, and from the roar of indignation the man of ribbons +flies. The noise increases. Men are standing up by hundreds, and +women are imploring to be let out of the turmoil. All at once, +like the bursting of a dam, the whole mass pours down into the +ring. They sweep across the arena and over the showman's barriers. +Miguel gets a frightful trampling. Who cares for gates or doors? +They tear the beasts' houses bar from bar, and, laying hold of the +gaunt buffalo, drag him forth by feet, ears, and tail; and in the +midst of the melee, still head and shoulders above all, wilder, +with the cup of the wicked, than any beast, is the man of God from +the Florida parishes! + +In his arms he bore--and all the people shouted at once when they +saw it--the tiger. He had lifted it high up with its back to his +breast, his arms clasped under its shoulders; the wretched brute +had curled up caterpillar-wise, with its long tail against its +belly, and through its filed teeth grinned a fixed and impotent +wrath. And Parson Jones was shouting: + +"The tiger and the buffler SHELL lay down together! You dah to say +they shayn't and I'll comb you with this varmint from head to +foot! The tiger and the buffler SHELL lay down together. They +SHELL! Now, you, Joe! Behold! I am here to see it done. The lion +and the buffler SHELL lay down together!" + +Mouthing these words again and again, the parson forced his way +through the surge in the wake of the buffalo. This creature the +Latins had secured by a lariat over his head, and were dragging +across the old rampart and into a street of the city. + +The northern races were trying to prevent, and there was +pommelling and knocking down, cursing and knife-drawing, until +Jules St.-Ange was quite carried away with the fun, laughed, +clapped his hands, and swore with delight, and ever kept close to +the gallant parson. + +Joe, contrariwise, counted all this child's-play an interruption. +He had come to find Colossus and the money. In an unlucky moment +he made bold to lay hold of the parson, but a piece of the broken +barriers in the hands of a flat-boatman felled him to the sod, the +terrible crowd swept over him, the lariat was cut, and the giant +parson hurled the tiger upon the buffalo's back. In another +instant both brutes were dead at the hands of the mob; Jones was +lifted from his feet, and prating of Scripture and the millennium, +of Paul at Ephesus and Daniel in the "buffler's" den, was borne +aloft upon the shoulders of the huzzaing Americains. Half an hour +later he was sleeping heavily on the floor of a cell in the +calaboza. + +"When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was somewhere tolling for +midnight. Somebody was at the door of his cell with a key. The +lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey looked in and stepped +back, and a ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules St.-Ange. The +prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and ring-bolt in the centre +of the floor. + +"Misty Posson Jone'," said the visitor, softly. + +"O Jools!" + +"Mais, w'at de matter, Posson Jone'?" + +"My sins, Jools, my sins!" + +"Ah! Posson Jone', is that something to cry, because a man get +sometime a litt' bit intoxicate? Mais, if a man keep ALL THE TIME +intoxicate, I think that is again' the conscien'." + +"Jools, Jools, your eyes is darkened--oh! Jools, where's my pore +old niggah?" + +"Posson Jone', never min'; he is wid Baptiste." + +"Where?" + +"I don' know w'ere--mais he is wid Baptiste. Baptiste is a +beautiful to take care of somebody." + +"Is he as good as you, Jools?" asked Parson Jones, sincerely. + +Jules was slightly staggered. + +"You know, Posson Jone', you know, a nigger cannot be good as a +w'ite man--mais Baptiste is a good nigger." + +The parson moaned and dropped his chin into his hands. + +"I was to of left for home to-morrow, sun-up, on the Isabella +schooner. Pore Smyrny!" He deeply sighed. + +"Posson Jone'," said Jules, leaning against the wall and smiling, +"I swear you is the moz funny man I ever see. If I was you I would +say, me, 'Ah! 'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it was not mine, +anyhow!' My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to be the more sorry +because the money he los' is not his? Me, I would say, 'it is a +specious providence.' + +"Ah! Misty Posson Jone'," he continued, "you make a so droll +sermon ad the bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I think you can make +money to preach thad sermon many time ad the theatre St. Philippe. +Hah! you is the moz brave dat I never see, mais ad the same time +the moz rilligious man. Where I'm goin' to fin' one priest to make +like dat? Mais, why you can't cheer up an' be 'appy? Me, if I +should be miserabl' like that I would kill meself." + +The countryman only shook his head. + +"Bien, Posson Jone', I have the so good news for you." + +The prisoner looked up with eager inquiry. + +"Las' evening when they lock' you, I come right off at M. De +Blanc's house to get you let out of de calaboose; M. De Blanc he +is the judge. So soon I was entering--' Ah! Jules, me boy, juz the +man to make complete the game!' Posson Jone', it was a specious +providence! I win in t'ree hours more dan six hundred dollah! +Look." He produced a mass of bank-notes, bons, and due-bills. + +"And you got the pass?" asked the parson, regarding the money with +a sadness incomprehensible to Jules. + +"It is here; it take the effect so soon the daylight." + +"Jools, my friend, your kindness is in vain." + +The Creole's face became a perfect blank. + +"Because," said the parson, "for two reasons: firstly, I have +broken the laws, and ought to stand the penalty; and secondly--you +must really excuse me, Jools, you know, but the pass has been got +onfairly, I'm afeerd. You told the judge I was innocent; and in +neither case it don't become a Christian (which I hope I can still +say I am one) to 'do evil that good may come.' I muss stay." + +M. St.-Ange stood up aghast, and for a moment speechless, at this +exhibition of moral heroism; but an artifice was presently hit +upon. "Mais, Posson Jone'!"--in his old falsetto--"de order--you +cannot read it, it is in French--compel you to go hout, sir!" + +"Is that so?" cried the parson, bounding up with radiant face--"is +that so, Jools?" + +The young man nodded, smiling; but, though he smiled, the fountain +of his tenderness was opened. He made the sign of the cross as the +parson knelt in prayer, and even whispered "Hail Mary," etc., +quite through, twice over. + +Morning broke in summer glory upon a cluster of villas behind the +city, nestled under live-oaks and magnolias on the banks of a deep +bayou, and known as Suburb St. Jean. + +With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole out +upon the bank below the village. Upon the parson's arm hung a pair +of antique saddle-bags. Baptiste limped wearily behind; both his +eyes were encircled with broad, blue rings, and one cheek-bone +bore the official impress of every knuckle of Colossus's left +hand. The "beautiful to take care of somebody" had lost his +charge. At mention of the negro he became wild, and, half in +English, half in the "gumbo" dialect, said murderous things. +Intimidated by Jules to calmness, he became able to speak +confidently on one point; he could, would, and did swear that +Colossus had gone home to the Florida parishes; he was almost +certain; in fact, he thought so. + +There was a clicking of pulleys as the three appeared upon the +bayou's margin, and Baptiste pointed out, in the deep shadow of a +great oak, the Isabella, moored among the bulrushes, and just +spreading her sails for departure. Moving down to where she lay, +the parson and his friend paused on the bank, loath to say +farewell. + +"O Jools!" said the parson, "supposin' Colossus ain't gone home! O +Jools, if you'll look him out for me, I'll never forget you--I'll +never forget you, nohow, Jools. No, Jools, I never will believe he +taken that money. Yes, I know all niggahs will steal"--he set foot +upon the gang-plank--"but Colossus wouldn't steal from me. Good- +bye." + +"Misty Posson Jone'," said St.-Ange, putting his hand on the +parson's arm with genuine affection, "hol' on. You see dis money-- +w'at I win las' night? Well, I win' it by a specious providence, +ain't it?" + +"There's no tellin'," said the humbled Jones. "Providence + + "' Moves in a mysterious way + His wonders to perform.'" + +"Ah!" cried the Creole, "c'est very true. I ged this money in the +mysterieuze way. Mais, if I keep dis money, you know where it +goin' be to-night?" + +"I really can't say," replied the parson. + +"Goin' to de dev'," said the sweetly-smiling young man. + +The schooner-captain, leaning against the shrouds, and even +Baptiste, laughed outright. + +"O Jools, you mustn't!" + +"Well, den, w'at I shall do wid IT?" + +"Any thing!" answered the parson; "better donate it away to some +poor man----" + +"Ah! Misty Posson Jone', dat is w'at I want. You los' five hondred +dollar'--'twas me fault." + +"No, it wa'n't, Jools." + +"Mais, it was!" + +"No!" + +"It WAS me fault! I SWEAR it was me fault! Mais, here is five +hondred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't got no +use for money.--Oh, my faith! Posson Jone', you must not begin to +cry some more" + +Parson Jones was choked with tears. "When he found voice he said: + +"O Jools, Jools, Jools! my pore, noble, dear, mis-guidened friend! +ef you hed of hed a Christian raisin'! May the Lord show you your +errors better'n I kin, and bless you for your good intentions--oh, +no! I cayn't touch that money with a ten-foot pole; it wa'n't +rightly got; you must really excuse me, my dear friend, but I +cayn't touch it." + +St. Ange was petrified. + +"Good-bye, dear Jools," continued the parson. "I'm in the Lord's +haynds, and he's very merciful, which I hope and trust you'll find +it out. Good-bye!"--the schooner swang slowly off before the +breeze--"goodbye!" + +St. Ange roused himself. + +"Posson Jone'! make me hany'ow dis promise: you never, never, +NEVER will come back to New Orleans." + +"Ah, Jools, the Lord willin', I'll never leave home again!" + +"All right!" cried the Creole; "I thing he's willin'. Adieu, +Posson Jone'. My faith'! you are the so fighting an' moz +rilligious man as I never saw! Adieu! Adieu!" + +Baptiste uttered a cry and presently ran by his master toward the +schooner, his hands full of clods. + +St. Ange looked just in time to see the sable form of Colossus of +Rhodes emerge from the vessel's hold, and the pastor of Smyrna and +Bethesda seize him in his embrace. + +"O Colossus! you outlandish old nigger! Thank the Lord! Thank the +Lord!" + +The little Creole almost wept. He ran down the towpath, laughing +and swearing, and making confused allusion to the entire PERSONNEL +and furniture of the lower regions. + +By odd fortune, at the moment that St.-Ange further demonstrated +his delight by tripping his mulatto into a bog, the schooner came +brushing along the reedy bank with a graceful curve, the sails +flapped, and the crew fell to poling her slowly along. + +Parson Jones was on the deck, kneeling once more in prayer. His +hat had fallen before him; behind him knelt his slave. In +thundering tones he was confessing himself "a plum fool," from +whom "the conceit had been jolted out," and who had been made to +see that even his "nigger had the longest head of the two." + +Colossus clasped his hands and groaned. + +The parson prayed for a contrite heart. + +"Oh, yes!" cried Colossus. + +The master acknowledged countless mercies. + +"Dat's so!" cried the slave. + +The master prayed that they might still be "piled on." + +"Glory!" cried the black man, clapping his hands; "pile on!" + +"An' now," continued the parson, "bring this pore, backslidin' +jackace of a parson and this pore ole fool nigger back to thar +home in peace!" + +"Pray fo' de money!" called Colossus. + +But the parson prayed for Jules. + +"Pray fo' de MONEY!" repeated the negro. + +"And oh, give thy servant back that there lost money!" + +Colossus rose stealthily, and tiptoed by his still shouting +master. St.-Ange, the captain, the crew, gazed in silent wonder at +the strategist. Pausing but an instant over the master's hat to +grin an acknowledgment of his beholders' speechless interest, he +softly placed in it the faithfully mourned and honestly prayed for +Smyrna fund; then, saluted by the gesticulative, silent applause +of St.-Ange and the schooner-men, he resumed his first attitude +behind his roaring master. + +"Amen!" cried Colossus, meaning to bring him to a close. + +"Onworthy though I be--" cried Jones. + +"AMEN!" reiterated the negro. + +"A-a-amen!" said Parson Jones. + +He rose to his feet, and, stooping to take up his hat, beheld the +well-known roll. As one stunned, he gazed for a moment upon his +slave, who still knelt with clasped hands and rolling eyeballs; +but when he became aware of the laughter and cheers that greeted +him from both deck and shore, he lifted eyes and hands to heaven, +and cried like the veriest babe. And when he looked at the roll +again, and hugged and kissed it, St.-Ange tried to raise a second +shout, but choked, and the crew fell to their poles. + +And now up runs Baptiste, covered with slime, and prepares to cast +his projectiles. The first one fell wide of the mark; the schooner +swung round into a long reach of water, where the breeze was in +her favor; another shout of laughter drowned the maledictions of +the muddy man; the sails filled; Colossus of Rhodes, smiling and +bowing as hero of the moment, ducked as the main boom swept round, +and the schooner, leaning slightly to the pleasant influence, +rustled a moment over the bulrushes, and then sped far away down +the rippling bayou. + +M. Jules St.-Ange stood long, gazing at the receding vessel as it +now disappeared, now reappeared beyond the tops of the high +undergrowth; but, when an arm of the forest hid it finally from +sight, he turned townward, followed by that fagged-out spaniel, +his servant, saying, as he turned, "Baptiste." "Miche?" + +"You know w'at I goin' do wid dis money?" + +"Non, m'sieur." + +"Well, you can strike me dead if I don't goin' to pay hall my +debts! Allons!" + +He began a merry little song to the effect that his sweetheart was +a wine-bottle, and master and man, leaving care behind, returned +to the picturesque Rue Royale. The ways of Providence are indeed +strange. In all Parson Jones's after-life, amid the many painful +reminiscences of his visit to the City of the Plain, the sweet +knowledge was withheld from him that by the light of the Christian +virtue that shone from him even in his great fall, Jules St.-Ange +arose, and went to his father an honest man. + + + + + + +OUR AROMATIC UNCLE + +BY + +HENRY CUYLER BUNNER + +The title of Mr. Bunner's story is attractive and stimulating to +the imagination. The plot is slight, yet clever in its use of the +surprise element. Its leading character is a splendid illustration +of a hero worshipper who is himself the real hero. The atmosphere +is especially good. It is warmed by family affection and fragrant +with romance. This romance, as Mr. Grabo points out in "The Art of +the Short Story," is suggested rather than recorded. The running +away of the Judge's son and of his little admirer, the butcher +boy, really lies outside the story proper. "With these youthful +adventures the story has not directly to do, but the hints of the +antecedent action envelop the story with a romantic atmosphere. +The reader speculates upon the story suggested, and thereby is the +written story enriched and made a part of a larger whole." + + + + +OUR AROMATIC UNCLE + +[Footnote: From "Love in Old Cloathes and Other Stories," by F. +C. Bunner. Copyright, 1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + +It is always with a feeling of personal tenderness and regret that +I recall his story, although it began long before I was born, and +must have ended shortly after that important date, and although I +myself never laid eyes on the personage of whom my wife and I +always speak as "The Aromatic Uncle." + +The story begins so long ago, indeed, that I can tell it only as a +tradition of my wife's family. It goes back to the days when +Boston was so frankly provincial a town that one of its leading +citizens, a man of eminent position and ancient family, remarked +to a young kinsman whom he was entertaining at his hospitable +board, by way of pleasing and profitable discourse: "Nephew, it +may interest you to know that it is Mr. Everett who has the OTHER +hindquarter of this lamb". This simple tale I will vouch for, for +I got it from the lips of the nephew, who has been my uncle for so +many years that I know him to be a trustworthy authority. + +In those days which seem so far away--and yet the space between +them and us is spanned by a lifetime of threescore years and ten-- +life was simpler in all its details; yet such towns as Boston, +already old, had well established local customs which varied not +at all from year to year; many of which lingered in later phases +of urban growth. In Boston, or at least in that part of Boston +where my wife's family dwelt, it was the invariable custom for the +head of the family to go to market in the early morning with his +wife's list of the day's needs. When the list was filled, the +articles were placed in a basket; and the baskets thus filled were +systematically deposited by the marketboys at the back door of the +house to which they were consigned. Then the housekeeper came to +the back door at her convenience, and took the basket in. Exposed +as this position must have been, such a thing as a theft of the +day's edibles was unknown, and the first authentic account of any +illegitimate handling of the baskets brings me to the introduction +of my wife's uncle. + +It was on a summer morning, as far as I can find out, that a +little butcher boy--a very little butcher boy to be driving so big +a cart--stopped in the rear of two houses that stood close +together in a suburban street. One of these houses belonged to my +wife's father, who was, from all I can gather, a very pompous, +severe, and generally objectionable old gentleman; a Judge, and a +very considerable dignitary, who apparently devoted all his +leisure to making life miserable for his family. The other was +owned by a comparatively poor and unimportant man, who did a +shipping business in a small way. He had bought it during a period +of temporary affluence, and it hung on his hands like a white +elephant. He could not sell it, and it was turning his hair gray +to pay the taxes on it. On this particular morning he had got up +at four o'clock to go down to the wharves to see if a certain ship +in which he was interested had arrived. It was due and overdue, +and its arrival would settle the question of his domestic comfort +for the whole year; for if it failed to appear, or came home with +an empty bottom, his fate would be hard indeed; but if it brought +him money or marketable goods from its long Oriental trip, he +might take heart of grace and look forward to better times. + +When the butcher's boy stopped at the house of my wife's father, +he set down at the back-door a basket containing fish, a big joint +of roast beef, and a generous load of fruit and vegetables, +including some fine, fat oranges. At the other door he left a +rather unpromising-looking lump of steak and a half-peck of +potatoes, not of the first quality. When he had deposited these +two burdens he ran back and started his cart up the road. + +But he looked back as he did so, and he saw a sight familiar to +him, and saw the commission of a deed entirely unfamiliar. A +handsome young boy of about his own age stepped out of the back- +door of my wife's father's house and looked carelessly around him. +He was one of the boys who compel the admiration of all other +boys--strong, sturdy, and a trifle arrogant. + +He had long ago compelled the admiration of the little butcher- +boy. They had been playmates together at the public school, and +although the Judge's son looked down from an infinite height upon +his poor little comrade, the butcher-boy worshipped him with the +deepest and most fervent adoration. He had for him the admiring +reverence which the boy who can't lick anybody has for the boy who +can lick everybody. He was a superior being, a pattern, a model; +an ideal never to be achieved, but perhaps in a crude, humble way +to be imitated. And there is no hero-worship in the world like a +boy's worship of a boy-hero. + +The sight of this fortunate and adorable youth was familiar enough +to the butcher-boy, but the thing he did startled and shocked that +poor little workingman almost as much as if his idol had committed +a capital crime right before his very eyes. For the Judge's son +suddenly let a look into his face that meant mischief, glanced +around him to see whether anybody was observing him or not, and, +failing to notice the butcher-boy, quickly and dexterously changed +the two baskets. Then he went back into the house and shut the +door on himself. + +The butcher-boy reined up his horse and jumped from his cart. His +first impulse, of course, was to undo the shocking iniquity which +the object of his admiration had committed. But before he had +walked back a dozen yards, it struck him that he was taking a +great liberty in spoiling the other boy's joke. It was wrong, of +course, he knew it; but was it for him to rebuke the wrong-doing +of such an exalted personage? If the Judge's son came out again, +he would see that his joke had miscarried, and then he would be +displeased. And to the butcher-boy it did not seem right in the +nature of things that anything should displease the Judge's son. +Three times he went hesitatingly backward and forward, trying to +make up his mind, and then he made it up. The king could do no +wrong. Of course he himself was doing wrong in not putting the +baskets back where they belonged; but then he reflected, he took +that sin on his own humble conscience, and in some measure took it +off the conscience of the Judge's son--if, indeed, it troubled +that lightsome conscience at all. And, of course, too, he knew +that, being an apprentice, he would be whipped for it when the +substitution was discovered. But he didn't mind being whipped for +the boy he worshipped. So he drove out along the road; and the +wife of the poor shipping-merchant, coming to the back-door, and +finding the basket full of good things, and noticing especially +the beautiful China oranges, naturally concluded that her +husband's ship had come in, and that he had provided his family +with a rare treat. And the Judge, when he came home to dinner, and +Mrs. Judge introduced him to the rump-steak and potatoes--but I do +not wish to make this story any more pathetic than is necessary. + +A few months after this episode, perhaps indirectly in consequence +of it--I have never been able to find out exactly--the Judge's +son, my wife's uncle, ran away to sea, and for many years his +recklessness, his strength, and his good looks were only +traditions in the family, but traditions which he himself kept +alive by remembrances than which none could have been more +effective. + +At first he wrote but seldom, later on more regularly, but his +letters--I have seen many of them--were the most uncommunicative +documents that I ever saw in my life. His wanderings took him to +many strange places on the other side of the globe, but he never +wrote of what he saw or did. His family gleaned from them that his +health was good, that the weather was such-and-such, and that he +wished to have his love, duty, and respects conveyed to his +various relatives. In fact, the first positive bit of personal +intelligence that they received from him was five years after his +departure, when he wrote them from a Chinese port on letter-paper +whose heading showed that he was a member of a commercial firm. +The letter itself made no mention of the fact. As the years passed +on, however, the letters came more regularly and they told less +about the weather, and were slightly--very slightly--more +expressive of a kind regard for his relatives. But at the best +they were cramped by the formality of his day and generation, and +we of to-day would have called them cold and perfunctory. + +But the practical assurances that he gave of his undiminished-- +nay, his steadily increasing--affection for the people at home, +were of a most satisfying character, for they were convincing +proof not only of his love but of his material prosperity. Almost +from his first time of writing he began to send gifts to all the +members of the family. At first these were mere trifles, little +curios of travel such as he was able to purchase out of a seaman's +scanty wages; but as the years went on they grew richer and +richer, till the munificence of the runaway son became the pride +of the whole family. + +The old house that had been in the suburbs of Boston was fairly in +the heart of the city when I first made its acquaintance, and one +of the famous houses of the town. And it was no wonder it was +famous, for such a collection of Oriental furniture, bric-a-brac, +and objects of art never was seen outside of a museum. There were +ebony cabinets, book-cases, tables, and couches wonderfully carved +and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. There were beautiful things in +bronze and jade and ivory. There were all sorts of strange rugs +and curtains and portieres. As to the china-ware and the vases, no +house was ever so stocked; and as for such trifles as shawls and +fans and silk handkerchiefs, why such things were sent not singly +but by dozens. + +No one could forget his first entrance into that house. The great +drawing-room was darkened by heavy curtains, and at first you had +only a dim vision of the strange and graceful shapes of its +curious furnishing. But you could not but be instantly conscious +of the delicate perfume that pervaded the apartment, and, for the +matter of that, the whole house. It was a combination of all the +delightful Eastern smells--not sandalwood only, nor teak, nor +couscous, but all these odors and a hundred others blent in one. +Yet it was not heavy nor overpowering, but delightfully faint and +sweet, diffused through those ample rooms. There was good reason, +indeed, for the children of the generation to which my wife +belonged to speak of the generous relative whom they had never +seen as "Our Aromatic Uncle." There were other uncles, and I have +no doubt they gave presents freely, for it was a wealthy and free- +handed family; but there was no other uncle who sent such a +delicate and delightful reminder with every gift, to breathe a +soft memory of him by day and by night. + +I did my courting in the sweet atmosphere of that house, and, +although I had no earthly desire to live in Boston, I could not +help missing that strangely blended odor when my wife and I moved +into an old house in an old part of New York, whose former owners +had no connections in the Eastern trade. It was a charming and +home-like old house; but at first, although my wife had brought +some belongings from her father's house, we missed the pleasant +flavor of our aromatic uncle, for he was now my uncle, as well as +my wife's. I say at first, for we did not miss it long. Uncle +David--that was his name--not only continued to send his fragrant +gifts to my wife at Christmas and upon her birthday, but he +actually adopted me, too, and sent me Chinese cabinets and Chinese +gods in various minerals and metals, and many articles designed +for a smoker's use, which no smoker would ever want to touch with +a ten-foot pole. But I cared very little about the utility of +these presents, for it was not many years before, among them all, +they set up that exquisite perfume in the house, which we had +learned to associate with our aromatic uncle. + +"FOO-CHOO-LI, CHINA, January-, 18-. + +"DEAR NEPHEW AND NIECE: The Present is to inform you that I have +this day shipped to your address, per Steamer Ocean Queen, one +marble and ebony Table, six assorted gods, and a blue Dinner set; +also that I purpose leaving this Country for a visit to the Land +of my Nativity on the 6th of March next, and will, if same is +satisfactory to you, take up my Abode temporarily in your +household. Should same not be satisfactory, please cable at my +charge. Messrs. Smithson & Smithson, my Customs Brokers, will +attend to all charges on the goods, and will deliver them at your +readiness. The health of this place is better than customary by +reason of the cool weather, which Health I am as usual enjoying. +Trusting that you both are at present in possession of the same +Blessing, and will so continue, I remain, dear nephew and niece, + + "Your affectionate + "UNCLE." + +This was, I believe, by four dozen words--those which he used to +inform us of his intention of visiting America--the longest letter +that Uncle David had ever written to any member of his family. It +also conveyed more information about himself than he had ever +given since the day he ran away to sea. Of course we cabled the +old gentleman that we should be delighted to see him. + +And, late that spring, at some date at which he could not possibly +have been expected to arrive, he turned up at our house. + +Of course we had talked a great deal about him, and wondered what +manner of a man we should find him. Between us, my wife and I had +got an idea of his personal appearance which I despair of +conveying in words. Vaguely, I should say that we had pictured him +as something mid-way between an abnormally tall Chinese mandarin +and a benevolent Quaker. What we found when we got home and were +told that our uncle from India was awaiting us, was a shrunken and +bent old gentleman, dressed very cleanly and neatly in black +broadcloth, with a limp, many-pleated shirt-front of old-fashioned +style, and a plain black cravat. If he had worn an old-time stock +we could have forgiven him the rest of the disappointment he cost +us; but we had to admit to ourselves that he had the most +absolutely commonplace appearance of all our acquaintance. In +fact, we soon discovered that, except for a taciturnity the like +of which we had never encountered, our aromatic uncle had +positively not one picturesque characteristic about him. Even his +aroma was a disappointment. He had it, but it was patchouly or +some other cheap perfume of the sort, wherewith he scented his +handkerchief, which was not even a bandanna, but a plain decent +white one of the unnecessarily large sort which clergymen and old +gentlemen affect. + +But, even if we could not get one single romantic association to +cluster about him, we very soon got to like the old gentleman. It +is true that at our first meeting, after saying "How d'ye do" to +me and receiving in impassive placidity the kiss which my wife +gave him, he relapsed into dead silence, and continued to smoke a +clay pipe with a long stem and a short bowl. This instrument he +filled and re-filled every few minutes, and it seemed to be his +only employment. We plied him with questions, of course, but to +these he responded with a wonderful brevity. In the course of an +hour's conversation we got from him that he had had a pleasant +voyage that it was not a long voyage, that it was not a short +voyage, that it was about the usual voyage, that he had not been +seasick, that he was glad to be back, and that he was not +surprised to find the country very much changed. This last piece +of information was repeated in the form of a simple "No," given in +reply to the direct question; and although it was given politely, +and evidently without the least unamiable intent, it made us both +feel very cheap. After all, it WAS absurd to ask a man if he were +surprised to find the country changed after fifty or sixty years +of absence. Unless he was an idiot, and unable to read at that, he +must have expected something of the sort. + +But we grew to like him. He was thoroughly kind and inoffensive in +every way. He was entirely willing to be talked to, but he did not +care to talk. If it was absolutely necessary, he COULD talk, and +when he did talk he always made me think of the "French-English +Dictionary for the Pocket," compiled by the ingenious Mr. John +Bellows; for nobody except that extraordinary Englishman could +condense a greater amount of information into a smaller number of +words. During the time of his stay with us I think I learned more +about China than any other man in the United States knew, and I do +not believe that the aggregate of his utterances in the course of +that six months could have amounted to one hour's continuous talk. +Don't ask me for the information. I had no sort of use for it, and +I forgot it as soon as I could. I like Chinese bric-a-brac, but my +interest in China ends there. + +Yet it was not long before Uncle David slid into his own place in +the family circle. We soon found that he did not expect us to +entertain him. He wanted only to sit quiet and smoke his pipe, to +take his two daily walks by himself, and to read the daily paper +one afternoon and Macaulay's "History of England" the next. He was +never tired of sitting and gazing amiably but silently at my wife; +and, to head the list of his good points, he would hold the baby +by the hour, and for some mysterious reason that baby, who +required the exhibition of seventeen toys in a minute to be +reasonably quiet in the arms of anybody else, would sit placidly +in Uncle David's lap, teething away steadily on the old +gentleman's watch-chain, as quiet and as solemn and as aged in +appearance as any one of the assorted gods of porcelain and jade +and ivory which our aromatic uncle had sent us. + +The old house in Boston was a thing of the past. My wife's parents +had been dead for some years, and no one remained of her immediate +family except a certain Aunt Lucretia, who had lived with them +until shortly before our marriage, when the breaking up of the +family sent her West to find a home with a distant relative in +California. We asked Uncle Davy if he had stopped to see Aunt +Lucretia as he came through California. He said he had not. We +asked him if he wanted to have Aunt Lucretia invited on to pass a +visit during his stay with us. He answered that he did not. This +did not surprise us at all. You might think that a brother might +long to see a sister from whom he had been separated nearly all of +a long lifetime, but then you might never have met Aunt Lucretia. +My wife made the offer only from a sense of duty; and only after a +contest with me which lasted three days and nights. Nothing but +loss of sleep during an exceptionally busy time at my office +induced me to consent to her project of inviting Aunt Lucretia. +When Uncle David put his veto upon the proposition I felt that he +might have taken back all his rare and costly gifts, and I could +still have loved him. + +But Aunt Lucretia came, all the same. My wife is afflicted with a +New England conscience, originally of a most uncomfortable +character. It has been much modified and ameliorated, until it is +now considerably less like a case of moral hives; but some +wretched lingering remnant of the original article induced her to +write to Aunt Lucretia that Uncle David was staying with us, and +of course Aunt Lucretia came without invitation and without +warning, dropping in on us with ruthless unexpectedness. + +You may not think, from what I have said, that Aunt Lucretia's +visit was a pleasant event. But it was, in some respects; for it +was not only the shortest visit she ever paid us, but it was the +last with which she ever honored us. + +She arrived one morning shortly after breakfast, just as we were +preparing to go out for a drive. She would not have been Aunt +Lucretia if she had not upset somebody's calculations at every +turn of her existence. We welcomed her with as much hypocrisy as +we could summon to our aid on short notice, and she was not more +than usually offensive, although she certainly did herself full +justice in telling us what she thought of us for not inviting her +as soon as we even heard of Uncle David's intention to return to +his native land. She said she ought to have been the first to +embrace her beloved brother--to whom I don't believe she had given +one thought in more years than I have yet seen. + +Uncle David was dressing for his drive. His long residence in +tropical countries had rendered him sensitive to the cold, and +although it was a fine, clear September day, with the thermometer +at about sixty, he was industriously building himself up with a +series of overcoats. On a really snappy day I have known him to +get into six of these garments; and when he entered the room on +this occasion I think he had on five, at least. + +My wife had heard his familiar foot on the stairs, and Aunt +Lucretia had risen up and braced herself for an outburst of +emotional affection. I could see that it was going to be such a +greeting as is given only once in two or three centuries, and then +on the stage. I felt sure it would end in a swoon, and I was +looking around for a sofa-pillow for the old lady to fall upon, +for from what I knew of Aunt Lucretia I did not believe she had +ever swooned enough to be able to go through the performance +without danger to her aged person. But I need not have troubled +myself. Uncle David toddled into the room, gazed at Aunt Lucretia +without a sign of recognition in his features, and toddled out +into the hall, where he got his hat and gloves, and went out to +the front lawn, where he always paced up and down for a few +minutes before taking a drive, in order to stimulate his +circulation. This was a surprise, but Aunt Lucretia's behavior was +a greater surprise. The moment she set eyes on Uncle David the +theatrical fervor went out of her entire system, literally in one +instant; and an absolutely natural, unaffected astonishment +displayed itself in her expressive and strongly marked features. +For almost a minute, until the sound of Uncle David's footsteps +had died away, she stood absolutely rigid; while my wife and I +gazed at her spellbound. + +Then Aunt Lucretia pointed one long bony finger at me, and hissed +out with a true feminine disregard of grammar: + +"That ain't HIM!" + +"David," said Aunt Lucretia, impressively, "had only one arm. He +lost the other in Madagascar." + +I was too dumfounded to take in the situation. I remember +thinking, in a vague sort of way, that Madagascar was a curious +sort of place to go for the purpose of losing an arm; but I did +not apprehend the full significance of this disclosure until I +heard my wife's distressed protestations that Aunt Lucretia must +be mistaken; there must be some horrible mistake somewhere. + +But Aunt Lucretia was not mistaken, and there was no mistake +anywhere. The arm had been lost, and lost in Madagascar, and she +could give the date of the occurrence, and the circumstances +attendant. Moreover, she produced her evidence on the spot. It was +an old daguerreotype, taken in Calcutta a year or two after the +Madagascar episode. She had it in her hand-bag, and she opened it +with fingers trembling with rage and excitement. It showed two men +standing side by side near one of those three-foot Ionic pillars +that were an indispensable adjunct of photography in its early +stages. One of the men was large, broad-shouldered, and handsome-- +unmistakably a handsome edition of Aunt Lucretia. His empty left +sleeve was pinned across his breast. The other man was, making +allowance for the difference in years, no less unmistakably the +Uncle David who was at that moment walking to and fro under our +windows. For one instant my wife's face lighted up. + +"Why, Aunt Lucretia," she cried, "there he is! That's Uncle David, +dear Uncle David." + +"There he is NOT," replied Aunt Lucretia. "That's his business +partner--some common person that he picked up on the ship he first +sailed in--and, upon my word, I do believe it's that wretched +creature outside. And I'll Uncle David HIM." + +She marched out like a grenadier going to battle, and we followed +her meekly. There was, unfortunately, no room for doubt in the +case. It only needed a glance to see that the man with one arm was +a member of my wife's family, and that the man by his side, OUR +Uncle David, bore no resemblance to him in stature or features. + +Out on the lawn Aunt Lucretia sailed into the dear old gentleman +in the five overcoats with a volley of vituperation. He did not +interrupt her, but stood patiently to the end, listening, with his +hands behind his back; and when, with her last gasp of available +breath, Aunt Lucretia demanded: + +"Who--who--who ARE you, you wretch?" he responded, calmly and +respectfully: + +"I'm Tommy Biggs, Miss Lucretia." + +But just here my wife threw herself on his neck and hugged him, +and cried: + +"You're my own dear Uncle David, ANYWAY!" + +It was a fortunate, a gloriously fortunate, inspiration. Aunt +Lucretia drew herself up in speechless scorn, stretched forth her +bony finger, tried to say something and failed, and then she and +her hand-bag went out of my gates, never to come in again. + +When she had gone, our aromatic uncle--for we shall always +continue to think of him in that light, or rather in that odor-- +looked thoughtfully after her till she disappeared, and then made +one of the few remarks I ever knew him to volunteer. + +"Ain't changed a mite in forty-seven years." + +Up to this time I had been in a dazed condition of mind. As I have +said, my wife's family was extinct save for herself and Aunt +Lucretia, and she remembered so little of her parents, and she +looked herself so little like Aunt Lucretia, that it was small +wonder that neither of us remarked Uncle David's unlikeness to the +family type. We knew that he did not resemble the ideal we had +formed of him; and that had been the only consideration we had +given to his looks. Now, it took only a moment of reflection to +recall the fact that all the members of the family had been tall +and shapely, and that even between the ugly ones, like Aunt +Lucretia, and the pretty ones, like my wife, there was a certain +resemblance. Perhaps it was only the nose--the nose is the brand +in most families, I believe--but whatever it was, I had only to +see my wife and Aunt Lucretia together to realize that the man who +had passed himself off as our Uncle David had not one feature in +common with either of them--nor with the one-armed man in the +daguerreotype. I was thinking of this, and looking at my wife's +troubled face, when our aromatic uncle touched me on the arm. + +"I'll explain," he said, "to you. YOU tell HER." + +We dismissed the carriage, went into the house, and sat down. The +old gentleman was perfectly cool and collected, but he lit his +clay pipe, and reflected for a good five minutes before he opened +his mouth. Then he began: + +"Finest man in the world, sir. Finest BOY in the world. Never +anything like him. But, peculiarities. Had 'em. Peculiarities. +Wouldn't write home. Wouldn't"--here he hesitated--"send things +home. I had to do it. Did it for him. Didn't want his folks to +know. Other peculiarities. Never had any money. Other +peculiarities. Drank. Other peculiarities. Ladies. Finest man in +the world, all the same. Nobody like him. Kept him right with his +folks for thirty-one years. Then died. Fever. Canton. Never been +myself since. Kept right on writing, all the same. Also"--here he +hesitated again--"sending things. Why? Don't know. Been a fool all +my life. Never could do anything but make money. No family, no +friends. Only HIM. Ran away to sea to look after him. Did look +after him. Thought maybe your wife would be some like him. Barring +peculiarities, she is. Getting old. Came here for company. Meant +no harm. Didn't calculate on Miss Lucretia." + +Here he paused and smoked reflectively for a minute or two. + +"Hot in the collar--Miss Lucretia. Haughty. Like him, some. Just +like she was forty-seven years ago. Slapped my face one day when I +was delivering meat, because my jumper wasn't clean. Ain't changed +a mite." + +This was the first condensed statement of the case of our aromatic +uncle. It was only in reply to patient, and, I hope, loving, +gentle, and considerate, questioning that the whole story came +out--at once pitiful and noble--of the poor little butcher-boy who +ran away to sea to be body-guard, servant, and friend to the +splendid, showy, selfish youth whom he worshipped; whose +heartlessness he cloaked for many a long year, who lived upon his +bounty, and who died in his arms, nursed with a tenderness +surpassing that of a brother. And as far as I could find out, +ingratitude and contempt had been his only reward. + +I need not tell you that when I repeated all this to my wife she +ran to the old gentleman's room and told him all the things that I +should not have known how to say--that we cared for him; that we +wanted him to stay with us; that he was far, far more our uncle +than the brilliant, unprincipled scapegrace who had died years +before, dead for almost a lifetime to the family who idolized him; +and that we wanted him to stay with us as long as kind heaven +would let him. But it was of no use. A change had come over our +aromatic uncle which we could both of us see, but could not +understand. The duplicity of which he had been guilty weighed on +his spirit. The next day he went out for his usual walk, and he +never came back. We used every means of search and inquiry, but we +never heard from him until we got this letter from Foo-choo-li: + +"DEAR NEPHEW AND NIECE: The present is to inform you that I am +enjoying the Health that might be expected at my Age, and in my +condition of Body, which is to say bad. I ship you by to-day's +steamer, Pacific Monarch, four dozen jars of ginger, and two dozen +ditto preserved oranges, to which I would have added some other +Comfits, which I purposed offering for your acceptance, if it were +not that my Physician has forbidden me to leave my Bed. In case of +Fatal Results from this trying Condition, my Will, duly attested, +and made in your favor, will be placed in your hands by Messrs. +Smithson & Smithson, my Customs Brokers, who will also pay all +charges on goods sent. The Health of this place being unfavorably +affected by the Weather, you are unlikely to hear more from, + + "Dear Nephew and Niece, + + "Your affectionate + "UNCLE." + +And we never did hear more--except for his will--from Our Aromatic +Uncle; but our whole house still smells of his love. + + + + + + +QUALITY + +BY + +JOHN GALSWORTHY + +Here the emphasis is upon character. The plot is negligible-- +hardly exists. The setting is carefully worked out because it is +essential to the characterization. By means of the shoemaker the +author reveals at least a part of his philosophy of life--that +there is a subtle relation between a man and his work. Each reacts +on the other. If a man recognizes the Soul of Things and strives +to give it proper expression, he becomes an Artist and influences +for good all who come into contact with him. + + + + +QUALITY + +[Footnote: From "The Inn of Tranquillity," by John Galsworthy. +Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +I knew him from the days of my extreme youth, because he made my +father's boots; inhabiting with his elder brother two little shops +let into one, in a small by-street--now no more, but then most +fashionably placed in the West End. + +That tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign +upon its face that he made for any of the Royal Family--merely his +own German name of Gessler Brothers: and in the window a few pairs +of boots. I remember that it always troubled me to account for +those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was +ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable +that what he made could ever have failed to fit. Had he bought +them to put there? That, too, seemed inconceivable. He would never +have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked +himself. Besides, they were too beautiful--the pair of pumps, so +inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making +water come into one's mouth, the tall brown riding boots with +marvellous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a +hundred years. Those pairs could only have been made by one who +saw before him the Soul of Boot--so truly were they prototypes +incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. These thoughts, of +course, came to me later, though even when I was promoted to him, +at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the +dignity of himself and brother. For to make boots--such boots as +he made--seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and +wonderful. + +I remember well my shy remark, one day, while stretching out to +him my youthful foot: + +"Isn't it awfully hard to do, Mr. Gessler?" + +And his answer, given with a sudden smile from out of the sardonic +redness of his beard: "Id is an Ardt!" + +Himself, he was a little as if made from leather, with his yellow +crinkly face, and crinkly reddish hair and beard, and neat folds +slanting down his cheeks to the corners of his mouth, and his +guttural and one-toned voice; for leather is a sardonic substance, +and stiff and slow of purpose. And that was the character of his +face, save that his eyes, which were gray-blue, had in them the +simple gravity of one secretly possessed by the Ideal. His elder +brother was so very like him--though watery, paler in every way, +with a great industry--that sometimes in early days I was not +quite sure of him until the interview was over. Then I knew that +it was he, if the words, "I will ask my brudder," had not been +spoken; and that, if they had, it was his elder brother. + +When one grew old and wild and ran up bills, one somehow never ran +them up with Gessler Brothers. It would not have seemed becoming +to go in there and stretch out one's foot to that blue iron- +spectacled glance, owing him for more than--say--two pairs, just +the comfortable reassurance that one was still his client. + +For it was not possible to go to him very often--his boots lasted +terribly, having something beyond the temporary--some, as it were, +essence of boot stitched into them. + +One went in, not as into most shops, in the mood of: "Please serve +me, and let me go!" but restfully, as one enters a church; and, +sitting on the single wooden chair, waited--for there was never +anybody there. Soon, over the top edge of that sort of well-- +rather dark, and smelling soothingly of leather--which formed the +shop, there would be seen his face, or that of his elder brother, +peering down. A guttural sound, and the tip-tap of bast slippers +beating the narrow wooden stairs, and he would stand before one +without coat, a little bent, in leather apron, with sleeves turned +back, blinking--as if awakened from some dream of boots, or like +an owl surprised in daylight and annoyed at this interruption. + +And I would say: "How do you do, Mr. Gessler? Could you make me a +pair of Russia leather boots?" + +Without a word he would leave me, retiring whence he came, or into +the other portion of the shop, and I would continue to rest in the +wooden chair, inhaling the incense of his trade. Soon he would +come back, holding in his thin, veined hand a piece of gold-brown +leather. With eyes fixed on it, he would remark: "What a beaudiful +biece!" When I, too, had admired it, he would speak again. "When +do you wand dem?" And I would answer: "Oh! As soon as you +conveniently can." And he would say: "To-morrow fordnighd?" Or if +he were his elder brother: "I will ask my brudder!" + +Then I would murmur: "Thank you! Good-morning, Mr. Gessler." +"Goot-morning!" he would reply, still looking at the leather in +his hand. And as I moved to the door, I would hear the tip-tap of +his bast slippers restoring him, up the stairs, to his dream of +boots. But if it were some new kind of foot-gear that he had not +yet made me, then indeed he would observe ceremony--divesting me +of my boot and holding it long in his hand, looking at it with +eyes at once critical and loving, as if recalling the glow with +which he had created it, and rebuking the way in which one had +disorganized this masterpiece. Then, placing my foot on a piece of +paper, he would two or three times tickle the outer edges with a +pencil and pass his nervous fingers over my toes, feeling himself +into the heart of my requirements. + +I cannot forget that day on which I had occasion to say to him: +"Mr. Gessler, that last pair of town walking-boots creaked, you +know." + +He looked at me for a time without replying, as if expecting me to +withdraw or qualify the statement, then said: + +"Id shouldn'd 'ave greaked." + +"It did, I'm afraid." + +"You goddem wed before dey found demselves?" + +"I don't think so." + +At that he lowered his eyes, as if hunting for memory of those +boots, and I felt sorry I had mentioned this grave thing. + +"Zend dem back!" he said; "I will look at dem." + +A feeling of compassion for my creaking boots surged up in me, so +well could I imagine the sorrowful long curiosity of regard which +he would bend on them. + +"Zome boods," he said slowly, "are bad from birdt. If I can do +noding wid dem, I dake dem off your bill." + +Once (once only) I went absent-mindedly into his shop in a pair of +boots bought in an emergency at some large firm's. He took my +order without showing me any leather, and I could feel his eyes +penetrating the inferior integument of my foot. At last he said: + +"Dose are nod my boods." + +The tone was not one of anger, nor of sorrow, not even of +contempt, but there was in it something quiet that froze the +blood. He put his hand down and pressed a finger on the place +where the left boot, endeavoring to be fashionable, was not quite +comfortable. + +"Id 'urds you dere," he said. "Dose big virms 'ave no self- +respect. Drash!" And then, as if something had given way within +him, he spoke long and bitterly. It was the only time I ever heard +him discuss the conditions and hardships of his trade. + +"Dey get id all," he said, "dey get id by adverdisement, nod by +work. Dey dake it away from us, who lofe our boods. Id gomes to +this--bresently I haf no work. Every year id gets less--you will +see." And looking at his lined face I saw things I had never +noticed before, bitter things and bitter struggle--and what a lot +of gray hairs there seemed suddenly in his red beard! + +As best I could, I explained the circumstances of the purchase of +those ill-omened boots. But his face and voice made so deep +impression that during the next few minutes I ordered many pairs. +Nemesis fell! They lasted more terribly than ever. And I was not +able conscientiously to go to him for nearly two years. + +When at last I went I was surprised to find that outside one of +the two little windows of his shop another name was painted, also +that of a bootmaker--making, of course, for the Royal Family. The +old familiar boots, no longer in dignified isolation, were huddled +in the single window. Inside, the now contracted well of the one +little shop was more scented and darker than ever. And it was +longer than usual, too, before a face peered down, and the tip-tap +of the bast slippers began. At last he stood before me, and, +gazing through those rusty iron spectacles, said: + +"Mr.--, isn'd it?" + +"Ah! Mr. Gessler," I stammered, "but your boots are really TOO +good, you know! See, these are quite decent still!" And I +stretched out to him my foot. He looked at it. + +"Yes," he said, "beople do nod wand good boods, id seems." + +To get away from his reproachful eyes and voice I hastily +remarked: "What have you done to your shop?" + +He answered quietly: "Id was too exbensif. Do you wand some +boods?" + +I ordered three pairs, though I had only wanted two, and quickly +left. I had, I do not know quite what feeling of being part, in +his mind, of a conspiracy against him; or not perhaps so much +against him as against his idea of boot. One does not, I suppose, +care to feel like that; for it was again many months before my +next visit to his shop, paid, I remember, with the feeling: "Oh! +well, I can't leave the old boy--so here goes! Perhaps it'll be +his elder brother!" + +For his elder brother, I knew, had not character enough to +reproach me, even dumbly. + +And, to my relief, in the shop there did appear to be his elder +brother, handling a piece of leather. + +"Well, Mr. Gessler," I said, "how are you?" + +He came close, and peered at me. + +"I am breddy well," he said slowly; "but my elder brudder is +dead." + +And I saw that it was indeed himself--but how aged and wan! And +never before had I heard him mention his brother. Much shocked, I +murmured: "Oh! I am sorry!" + +"Yes," he answered, "he was a good man, he made a good bood; but +he is dead." And he touched the top of his head, where the hair +had suddenly gone as thin as it had been on that of his poor +brother, to indicate, I suppose, the cause of death. "He could nod +ged over losing de oder shop. Do you wand any boods?" And he held +up the leather in his hand: "Id's a beaudiful biece." + +I ordered several pairs. It was very long before they came--but +they were better than ever. One simply could not wear them out. +And soon after that I went abroad. + +It was over a year before I was again in London. And the first +shop I went to was my old friend's. I had left a man of sixty, I +came back to one of seventy-five, pinched and worn and tremulous, +who genuinely, this time, did not at first know me. + +"Oh! Mr. Gessler," I said, sick at heart; "how splendid your boots +are! See, I've been wearing this pair nearly all the time I've +been abroad; and they're not half worn out, are they?" + +He looked long at my boots--a pair of Russia leather, and his face +seemed to regain steadiness. Putting his hand on my instep, he +said: + +"Do dey vid you here? I 'ad drouble wid dat bair, I remember." + +I assured him that they had fitted beautifully. + +"Do you wand any boods?" he said. "I can make dem quickly; id is a +slack dime." + +I answered: "Please, please! I want boots all round--every kind!" + +"I will make a vresh model. Your food must be bigger." And with +utter slowness, he traced round my foot, and felt my toes, only +once looking up to say: + +"Did I dell you my brudder was dead?" + +To watch him was painful, so feeble had he grown; I was glad to +get away. + +I had given those boots up, when one evening they came. Opening +the parcel, I set the four pairs out in a row. Then one by one I +tried them on. There was no doubt about it. In shape and fit, in +finish and quality of leather, they were the best he had ever made +me. And in the mouth of one of the town walking-boots I found his +bill. The amount was the same as usual, but it gave me quite a +shock. He had never before sent it in till quarter day. I flew +downstairs, and wrote a check, and posted it at once with my own +hand. + +A week later, passing the little street, I thought I would go in +and tell him how splendidly the new boots fitted. But when I came +to where his shop had been, his name was gone. Still there, in the +window, were the slim pumps, the patent leathers with cloth tops, +the sooty riding boots. + +I went in, very much disturbed. In the two little shops--again +made into one--was a young man with an English face. + +"Mr. Gessler in?" I said. + +He gave me a strange, ingratiating look. + +"No, sir," he said, "no. But we can attend to anything with +pleasure. We've taken the shop over. You've seen our name, no +doubt, next door. We make for some very good people." + +"Yes, yes," I said; "but Mr. Gessler?" + +"Oh!" he answered; "dead." + +"Dead! But I only received these boots from him last Wednesday +week." + +"Ah!" he said; "a shockin' go. Poor old man starved 'imself." + +"Good God!" + +"Slow starvation, the doctor called it! You see he went to work in +such a way! Would keep the shop on; wouldn't have a soul touch his +boots except himself. When he got an order, it took him such a +time. People won't wait. He lost everybody. And there he'd sit, +goin' on and on--I will say that for him--not a man in London made +a better boot! But look at the competition! He never advertised! +Would 'ave the best leather, too, and do it all 'imself. Well, +there it is. What could you expect with his ideas?" + +"But starvation--!" + +"That may be a bit flowery, as the sayin' is--but I know myself he +was sittin' over his boots day and night, to the very last. You +see I used to watch him. Never gave 'imself time to eat; never had +a penny in the house. All went in rent and leather. How he lived +so long I don't know. He regular let his fire go out. He was a +character. But he made good boots." + +"Yes," I said, "he made good boots." + +And I turned and went out quickly, for I did not want that youth +to know that I could hardly see. + + + + + + +THE TRIUMPH OF NIGHT + +BY EDITH WHARTON + +This is a mystery plot in which the supernatural furnishes the +interest. In dealing with the supernatural Mrs. Wharton does not +allow it to become horrible or grotesque. She secures plausibility +by having for its leading characters practical business men--not a +woman, hysterical or otherwise, really appears--and by placing +them in a perfectly conventional setting. The apparition is not +accompanied by blood stains, shroud, or uncanny noises. Sometimes +the writer of the supernatural feels that he must explain his +mystery by material agencies. The effect is to disappoint the +reader who has yielded himself to the conditions imposed by the +author, and is willing, for the time at least, to believe in +ghosts. Mrs. Wharton makes no such mistake. She does not spoil the +effect by commonplace explanation. + +In characterization Mrs. Wharton reveals the power not only to +analyze subtly temperaments and motives, but also to describe +vividly with a few words. This phrasal power is illustrated when +she says of Faxon that he "had a healthy face, but dying hands," +and of Lavington that "his pinched smile was screwed to his blank +face like a gaslight to a whitewashed wall." + + + + +THE TRIUMPH OF NIGHT + +[Footnote: From Scribner's Magazine, August, 1914.] + + +I + +It was clear that the sleigh from Weymore had not come; and the +shivering young traveller from Boston, who had so confidently +counted on jumping into it when he left the train at Northridge +Junction, found himself standing alone on the open platform, +exposed to the full assault of nightfall and winter. + +The blast that swept him came off New Hampshire snow fields and +ice-hung forests. It seemed to have traversed interminable leagues +of frozen silence, filling them with the same cold roar and +sharpening its edge against the same bitter black and white +landscape. Dark, searching, and sword-like, it alternately muffled +and harried its victim, like a bullfighter now whirling his cloak +and now planting his darts. This analogy brought home to the young +man the fact that he himself had no cloak, and that the overcoat +in which he had faced the relatively temperate airs of Boston +seemed no thicker than a sheet of paper on the bleak heights of +Northridge. George Faxon said to himself that the place was +uncommonly well named. It clung to an exposed ledge over the +valley from which the train had lifted him, and the wind combed it +with teeth of steel that he seemed actually to hear scraping +against the wooden sides of the station. Other building there was +none: the village lay far down the road, and thither--since the +Weymore sleigh had not come--Faxon saw himself under the immediate +necessity of plodding through several feet of snow. + +He understood well enough what had happened at Weymore: his +hostess had forgotten that he was coming. Young as Faxon was, this +sad lucidity of soul had been acquired as the result of long +experience, and he knew that the visitors who can least afford to +hire a carriage are almost always those whom their hosts forget to +send for. Yet to say Mrs. Culme had forgotten him was perhaps too +crude a way of putting it. Similar incidents led him to think that +she had probably told her maid to tell the butler to telephone the +coachman to tell one of the grooms (if no one else needed him) to +drive over to Northridge to fetch the new secretary; but on a +night like this what groom who respected his rights would fail to +forget the order? + +Faxon's obvious course was to struggle through the drifts to the +village, and there rout out a sleigh to convey him to Weymore; but +what if, on his arrival at Mrs. Culme's, no one remembered to ask +him what this devotion to duty had cost? That, again, was one of +the contingencies he had expensively learned to look out for, and +the perspicacity so acquired told him it would be cheaper to spend +the night at the Northridge inn, and advise Mrs. Culme of his +presence there by telephone. He had reached this decision, and was +about to entrust his luggage to a vague man with a lantern who +seemed to have some loose connection with the railway company, +when his hopes were raised by the sound of sleigh bells. + +Two vehicles were just dashing up to the station, and from the +foremost there sprang a young man swathed in furs. + +"Weymore?--No, these are not the Weymore sleighs." + +The voice was that of the youth who had jumped to the platform--a +voice so agreeable that, in spite of the words, it fell +reassuringly on Faxon's ears. At the same moment the wandering +station-lantern, casting a transient light on the speaker, showed +his features to be in the pleasantest harmony with his voice. He +was very fair and very young--hardly in the twenties, Faxon +thought--but his face, though full of a morning freshness, was a +trifle too thin and fine-drawn, as though a vivid spirit contended +in him with a strain of physical weakness. Faxon was perhaps the +quicker to notice such delicacies of balance because his own +temperament hung on lightly vibrating nerves, which yet, as he +believed, would never quite swing him beyond the arc of a normal +sensibility. + +"You expected a sleigh from Weymore?" the youth continued, +standing beside Faxon like a slender column of fur. + +Mrs. Culme's secretary explained his difficulty, and the newcomer +brushed it aside with a contemptuous "Oh, Mrs. Culme!" that +carried both speakers a long way toward reciprocal understanding. + +"But then you must be--" The youth broke off with a smile of +interrogation. + +"The new secretary? Yes. But apparently there are no notes to be +answered this evening." Faxon's laugh deepened the sense of +solidarity which had so promptly established itself between the +two. + +The newcomer laughed also. "Mrs. Culme," he explained, "was +lunching at my uncle's today, and she said you were due this +evening. But seven hours is a long time for Mrs. Culme to remember +anything." + +"Well," said Faxon philosophically, "I suppose that's one of the +reasons why she needs a secretary. And I've always the inn at +Northridge," he concluded. + +The youth laughed again. He was at the age when predicaments are +food for gaiety. + +"Oh, but you haven't, though! It burned down last week." + +"The deuce it did!" said Faxon; but the humor of the situation +struck him also before its inconvenience. His life, for years +past, had been mainly a succession of resigned adaptations, and he +had learned, before dealing practically with his embarrassments, +to extract from most of them a small tribute of amusement. + +"Oh, well, there's sure to be somebody in the place who can put me +up." + +"No one you could put up with. Besides, Northridge is three miles +off, and our place--in the opposite direction--is a little +nearer." Through the darkness, Faxon saw his friend sketch a +gesture of self-introduction. "My name's Frank Rainer, and I'm +staying with my uncle at Overdale. I've driven over to meet two +friends of his, who are due in a few minutes from New York. If you +don't mind waiting till they arrive I'm sure Overdale can do you +better than Northridge. We're only down from town for a few days, +but the house is always ready for a lot of people." + +"But your uncle--?" Faxon could only object, with the odd sense, +through his embarrassment, that it would be magically dispelled by +his invisible friend's next words. + +"Oh, my uncle--you'll see! I answer for HIM! I dare say you've +heard of him--John Lavington?" + +John Lavington! There was a certain irony in asking if one had +heard of John Lavington! Even from a post of observation as +obscure as that of Mrs. Culme's secretary, the rumor of John +Lavington's money, of his pictures, his politics, his charities +and his hospitality, was as difficult to escape as the roar of a +cataract in a mountain solitude. It might almost have been said +that the one place in which one would not have expected to come +upon him was in just such a solitude as now surrounded the +speakers--at least in this deepest hour of its desertedness. But +it was just like Lavington's brilliant ubiquity to put one in the +wrong even there. + +"Oh, yes, I've heard of your uncle." + +"Then you WILL come, won't you? We've only five minutes to wait," +young Rainer urged, in the tone that dispels scruples by ignoring +them; and Faxon found himself accepting the invitation as simply +as it was offered. + +A delay in the arrival of the New York train lengthened their five +minutes to fifteen; and as they paced the icy platform Faxon began +to see why it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to +accede to his new acquaintance's suggestion. It was because Frank +Rainer was one of the privileged beings who simplify human +intercourse by the atmosphere of confidence and good humor they +diffuse. He produced this effect, Faxon noted, by the exercise of +no gift save his youth, of no art save his sincerity; but these +qualities were revealed in a smile of such appealing sweetness +that Faxon felt, as never before, what Nature can achieve when she +deigns to match the face with the mind. + +He learned that the young man was the ward, and only nephew, of +John Lavington, with whom he had made his home since the death of +his mother, the great man's sister. Mr. Lavington, Rainer said, +had been "a regular brick" to him--"But then he is to every one, +you know"--and the young fellow's situation seemed in fact to be +perfectly in keeping with his person. Apparently the only shade +that had ever rested on him was cast by the physical weakness +which Faxon had already detected. Young Rainer had been threatened +with a disease of the lungs which, according to the highest +authorities, made banishment to Arizona or New Mexico inevitable. +"But luckily my uncle didn't pack me off, as most people would +have done, without getting another opinion. Whose? Oh, an awfully +clever chap, a young doctor with a lot of new ideas, who simply +laughed at my being sent away, and said I'd do perfectly well in +New York if I didn't dine out too much, and if I dashed off +occasionally to Northridge for a little fresh air. So it's really +my uncle's doing that I'm not in exile--and I feel no end better +since the new chap told me I needn't bother." Young Rainer went on +to confess that he was extremely fond of dining out, dancing, and +other urban distractions; and Faxon, listening to him, concluded +that the physician who had refused to cut him off altogether from +these pleasures was probably a better psychologist than his +seniors. + +"All the same you ought to be careful, you know." The sense of +elder brotherly concern that forced the words from Faxon made him, +as he spoke, slip his arm impulsively through Frank Rainer's. + +The latter met the movement with a responsive pressure. "Oh, I AM: +awfully, awfully. And then my uncle has such an eye on me!" + +"But if your uncle has such an eye on you, what does he say to +your swallowing knives out here in this Siberian wild?" + +Rainer raised his fur collar with a careless gesture. "It's not +that that does it--the cold's good for me." + +"And it's not the dinners and dances? What is it, then?" Faxon +good-humoredly insisted; to which his companion answered with a +laugh: "Well, my uncle says it's being bored; and I rather think +he's right!" + +His laugh ended in a spasm of coughing and a struggle for breath +that made Faxon, still holding his arm, guide him hastily into the +shelter of the fireless waiting room. + +Young Rainer had dropped down on the bench against the wall and +pulled off one of his fur gloves to grope for a handkerchief. He +tossed aside his cap and drew the handkerchief across his +forehead, which was intensely white, and beaded with moisture, +though his face retained a healthy glow. But Faxon's gaze remained +fastened to the hand he had uncovered: it was so long, so +colorless, so wasted, so much older than the brow he passed it +over. + +"It's queer--a healthy face but dying hands," the secretary mused; +he somehow wished young Rainer had kept on his glove. + +The whistle of the express drew the young men to their feet, and +the next moment two heavily furred gentlemen had descended to the +platform and were breasting the rigor of the night. Frank Rainer +introduced them as Mr. Grisben and Mr. Balch, and Faxon, while +their luggage was being lifted into the second sleigh, discerned +them, by the roving lantern gleam, to be an elderly gray-headed +pair, apparently of the average prosperous business cut. + +They saluted their host's nephew with friendly familiarity, and +Mr. Grisben, who seemed the spokesman of the two, ended his +greeting with a genial--"and many many more of them, dear boy!" +which suggested to Faxon that their arrival coincided with an +anniversary. But he could not press the inquiry, for the seat +allotted him was at the coachman's side, while Frank Rainer joined +his uncle's guests inside the sleigh. + +A swift flight (behind such horses as one could be sure of John +Lavington's having) brought them to tall gateposts, an illuminated +lodge, and an avenue on which the snow had been levelled to the +smoothness of marble. At the end of the avenue the long house +loomed through trees, its principal bulk dark but one wing sending +out a ray of welcome; and the next moment Faxon was receiving a +violent impression of warmth and light, of hothouse plants, +hurrying servants, a vast spectacular oak hall like a stage +setting, and, in its unreal middle distance, a small concise +figure, correctly dressed, conventionally featured, and utterly +unlike his rather florid conception of the great John Lavington. + +The shock of the contrast remained with him through his hurried +dressing in the large impersonally luxurious bedroom to which he +had been shown. "I don't see where he comes in," was the only way +he could put it, so difficult was it to fit the exuberance of +Lavington's public personality into his host's contracted frame +and manner. Mr. Lavington, to whom Faxon's case had been rapidly +explained by young Rainer, had welcomed him with a sort of dry and +stilted cordiality that exactly matched his narrow face, his stiff +hand, the whiff of scent on his evening handkerchief. "Make +yourself at home--at home!" he had repeated, in a tone that +suggested, on his own part, a complete inability to perform the +feat he urged on his visitor. "Any friend of Frank's ... delighted ... +make yourself thoroughly at home!" + + + + +II + +In spite of the balmy temperature and complicated conveniences of +Faxon's bedroom, the injunction was not easy to obey. It was +wonderful luck to have found a night's shelter under the opulent +roof of Overdale, and he tasted the physical satisfaction to the +full. But the place, for all its ingenuities of comfort, was oddly +cold and unwelcoming. He couldn't have said why, and could only +suppose that Mr. Lavington's intense personality--intensely +negative, but intense all the same--must, in some occult way, have +penetrated every corner of his dwelling. Perhaps, though, it was +merely that Faxon himself was tired and hungry, more deeply +chilled than he had known till he came in from the cold, and +unutterably sick of all strange houses, and of the prospect of +perpetually treading other people's stairs. + +"I hope you're not famished?" Rainer's slim figure was in the +doorway. "My uncle has a little business to attend to with Mr. +Grisben, and we don't dine for half an hour. Shall I fetch you, or +can you find your way down? Come straight to the dining room--the +second door on the left of the long gallery." + +He disappeared, leaving a ray of warmth behind him, and Faxon, +relieved, lit a cigarette and sat down by the fire. + +Looking about with less haste, he was struck by a detail that had +escaped him. The room was full of flowers--a mere "bachelor's +room," in the wing of a house opened only for a few days, in the +dead middle of a New Hampshire winter! Flowers were everywhere, +not in senseless profusion, but placed with the same conscious art +he had remarked in the grouping of the blossoming shrubs that +filled the hall. A vase of arums stood on the writing table, a +cluster of strange-hued carnations on the stand at his elbow, and +from wide bowls of glass and porcelain clumps of freesia bulbs +diffused their melting fragrance. The fact implied acres of glass +--but that was the least interesting part of it. The flowers +themselves, their quality, selection and arrangement, attested on +some one's part--and on whose but John Lavington's?--a solicitous +and sensitive passion for that particular embodiment of beauty. +Well, it simply made the man, as he had appeared to Faxon, all the +harder to understand! + +The half-hour elapsed, and Faxon, rejoicing at the near prospect +of food, set out to make his way to the dining room. He had not +noticed the direction he had followed in going to his room, and +was puzzled, when he left it, to find that two staircases, of +apparently equal importance, invited him. He chose the one to his +right, and reached, at its foot, a long gallery such as Rainer had +described. The gallery was empty, the doors down its length were +closed; but Rainer had said: "The second to the left," and Faxon, +after pausing for some chance enlightenment which did not come, +laid his hand on the second knob to the left. + +The room he entered was square, with dusky picture-hung walls. In +its centre, about a table lit by veiled lamps, he fancied Mr. +Lavington and his guests to be already seated at dinner; then he +perceived that the table was covered not with viands but with +papers, and that he had blundered into what seemed to be his +host's study. As he paused in the irresolution of embarrassment +Frank Rainer looked up. + +"Oh, here's Mr. Faxon. Why not ask him--?" + +Mr. Lavington, from the end of the table, reflected his nephew's +smile in a glance of impartial benevolence. + +"Certainly. Come in, Mr. Faxon. If you won't think it a liberty--" + +Mr. Grisben, who sat opposite his host, turned his solid head +toward the door. "Of course Mr. Faxon's an American citizen?" + +Frank Rainer laughed. "That all right! ... Oh, no, not one of your +pin-pointed pens, Uncle Jack! Haven't you got a quill somewhere?" + +Mr. Balch, who spoke slowly and as if reluctantly, in a muffled +voice of which there seemed to be very little left, raised his +hand to say: "One moment: you acknowledge this to be--?" + +"My last will and testament?" Rainer's laugh redoubled. "Well, I +won't answer for the 'last.' It's the first one, anyway." + +"It's a mere formula," Mr. Balch explained. + +"Well, here goes." Rainer dipped his quill in the inkstand his +uncle had pushed in his direction, and dashed a gallant signature +across the document. + +Faxon, understanding what was expected of him, and conjecturing +that the young man was signing his will on the attainment of his +majority, had placed himself behind Mr. Grisben, and stood +awaiting his turn to affix his name to the instrument. Rainer, +having signed, was about to push the paper across the table to Mr. +Balch; but the latter, again raising his hand, said in his sad +imprisoned voice: "The seal--?" + +"Oh, does there have to be a seal?" + +Faxon, looking over Mr. Grisben at John Lavington, saw a faint +frown between his impassive eyes. "Really, Frank!" He seemed, +Faxon thought, slightly irritated by his nephew's frivolity. + +"Who's got a seal?" Frank Rainer continued, glancing about the +table. "There doesn't seem to be one here." + +Mr. Grisben interposed. "A wafer will do. Lavington, you have a +wafer?" + +Mr. Lavington had recovered his serenity. "There must be some in +one of the drawers. But I'm ashamed to say I don't know where my +secretary keeps these things. He ought, of course, to have seen to +it that a wafer was sent with the document." + +"Oh, hang it--" Frank Rainer pushed the paper aside: "It's the +hand of God--and I'm hungry as a wolf. Let's dine first, Uncle +Jack." + +"I think I've a seal upstairs," said Faxon suddenly. + +Mr. Lavington sent him a barely perceptible smile. "So sorry to +give you the trouble--" + +"Oh, I say, don't send him after it now. Let's wait till after +dinner!" + +Mr. Lavington continued to smile on his guest, and the latter, as +if under the faint coercion of the smile, turned from the room and +ran upstairs. Having taken the seal from his writing-case he came +down again, and once more opened the door of the study. No one was +speaking when he entered--they were evidently awaiting his return +with the mute impatience of hunger, and he put the seal in +Rainer's reach, and stood watching while Mr. Grisben struck a +match and held it to one of the candles flanking the inkstand. As +the wax descended on the paper Faxon remarked again the singular +emaciation, the premature physical weariness, of the hand that +held it: he wondered if Mr. Lavington had ever noticed his +nephew's hand, and if it were not poignantly visible to him now. + +With this thought in his mind, Faxon raised his eyes to look at +Mr. Lavington. The great man's gaze rested on Frank Rainer with an +expression of untroubled benevolence; and at the same instant +Faxon's attention was attracted by the presence in the room of +another person, who must have joined the group while he was +upstairs searching for the seal. The new-comer was a man of about +Mr. Lavington's age and figure, who stood directly behind his +chair, and who, at the moment when Faxon first saw him, was gazing +at young Rainer with an equal intensity of attention. The likeness +between the two men--perhaps increased by the fact that the hooded +lamps on the table left the figure behind the chair in shadow-- +struck Faxon the more because of the strange contrast in their +expression. John Lavington, during his nephew's blundering attempt +to drop the wax and apply the seal, continued to fasten on him a +look of half-amused affection; while the man behind the chair, so +oddly reduplicating the lines of his features and figure, turned +on the boy a face of pale hostility. + +The impression was so startling Faxon forgot what was going on +about him. He was just dimly aware of young Rainer's exclaiming: +"Your turn, Mr. Grisben!" of Mr. Grisben's ceremoniously +protesting: "No--no; Mr. Faxon first," and of the pen's being +thereupon transferred to his own hand. He received it with a +deadly sense of being unable to move, or even to understand what +was expected of him, till he became conscious of Mr. Grisben's +paternally pointing out the precise spot on which he was to leave +his autograph. The effort to fix his attention and steady his hand +prolonged the process of signing, and when he stood up--a strange +weight of fatigue on all his limbs--the figure behind Mr. +Lavington's chair was gone. + +Faxon felt an immediate sense of relief. It was puzzling that the +man's exit should have been so rapid and noiseless, but the door +behind Mr. Lavington was screened by a tapestry hanging, and Faxon +concluded that the unknown looker-on had merely had to raise it to +pass out. At any rate, he was gone, and with his withdrawal the +strange weight was lifted. Young Rainer was lighting a cigarette, +Mr. Balch meticulously inscribing his name at the foot of the +document, Mr. Lavington--his eyes no longer on his nephew-- +examining a strange white-winged orchid in the vase at his elbow. +Everything suddenly seemed to have grown natural and simple again, +and Faxon found himself responding with a smile to the affable +gesture with which his host declared: "And now, Mr. Faxon, we'll +dine." + + + + +III + +"I wonder how I blundered into the wrong room just now; I thought +you told me to take the second door to the left," Faxon said to +Frank Rainer as they followed the older men down the gallery. + +"So I did; but I probably forgot to tell you which staircase to +take. Coming from your bedroom, I ought to have said the fourth +door to the right. It's a puzzling house, because my uncle keeps +adding to it from year to year. He built this room last summer for +his modern pictures." + +Young Rainer, pausing to open another door, touched an electric +button which sent a circle of light about the walls of a long room +hung with canvases of the French impressionist school. + +Faxon advanced, attracted by a shimmering Monet, but Rainer laid a +hand on his arm. + +"He bought that last week for a thundering price. But come along-- +I'll show you all this after dinner. Or HE will rather--he loves +it." + +"Does he really love things?" + +Rainer stared, clearly perplexed at the question. "Rather! Flowers +and pictures especially! Haven't you noticed the flowers? I +suppose you think his manner's cold; it seems so at first; but +he's really awfully keen about things." + +Faxon looked quickly at the speaker. "Has your uncle a brother?" + +"Brother? No--never had. He and my mother were the only ones." + +"Or any relation who--who looks like him? Who might be mistaken +for him?" + +"Not that I ever heard of. Does he remind you of some one?" + +"Yes." + +"That's queer. We'll ask him if he's got a double. Come on!" + +But another picture had arrested Faxon, and some minutes elapsed +before he and his young host reached the dining-room. It was a +large room, with the same conventionally handsome furniture and +delicately grouped flowers; and Faxon's first glance showed him +that only three men were seated about the dining-table. The man +who had stood behind Mr. Lavington's chair was not present, and no +seat awaited him. + +When the young men entered, Mr. Grisben was speaking, and his +host, who faced the door, sat looking down at his untouched soup- +plate and turning the spoon about in his small dry hand. + +"It's pretty late to call them rumors--they were devilish close to +facts when we left town this morning," Mr. Grisben was saying, +with an unexpected incisiveness of tone. + +Mr. Lavington laid down his spoon and smiled interrogatively. "Oh, +facts--what are facts! Just the way a thing happens to look at a +given minute." + +"You haven't heard anything from town?" Mr. Grisben persisted. + +"Not a syllable. So you see ... Balch, a little more of that +petite marmite. Mr. Faxon ... between Frank and Mr. Grisben, +please." + +The dinner progressed through a series of complicated courses, +ceremoniously dispensed by a stout butler attended by three tall +footmen, and it was evident that Mr. Lavington took a somewhat +puerile satisfaction in the pageant. That, Faxon reflected, was +probably the joint in his armor--that and the flowers. He had +changed the subject--not abruptly but firmly--when the young men +entered, but Faxon perceived that it still possessed the thoughts +of the two elderly visitors, and Mr. Balch presently observed, in +a voice that seemed to come from the last survivor down a mine- +shaft: "If it does come, it will be the biggest crash since '93." + +Mr. Lavington looked bored but polite. "Wall Street can stand +crashes better than it could then. It's got a robuster +constitution." + +"Yes; but--" + +"Speaking of constitutions," Mr. Grisben intervened: "Frank, are +you taking care of yourself?" + +A flush rose to young Rainer's cheeks. + +"Why, of course! Isn't that what I'm here for?" + +"You're here about three days in the month, aren't you? And the +rest of the time it's crowded restaurants and hot ballrooms in +town. I thought you were to be shipped off to New Mexico?" + +"Oh, I've got a new man who says that's rot." + +"Well, you don't look as if your new man were right," said Mr. +Grisben bluntly. + +Faxon saw the lad's color fade, and the rings of shadow deepen +under his gay eyes. At the same moment his uncle turned to him +with a renewed intensity of attention. There was such solicitude +in Mr. Lavington's gaze that it seemed almost to fling a tangible +shield between his nephew and Mr. Grisben's tactless scrutiny. + +"We think Frank's a good deal better," he began; "this new doctor--" + +The butler, coming up, bent discreetly to whisper a word in his +ear, and the communication caused a sudden change in Mr. +Lavington's expression. His face was naturally so colorless that +it seemed not so much to pale as to fade, to dwindle and recede +into something blurred and blotted-out. He half rose, sat down +again and sent a rigid smile about the table. + +"Will you excuse me? The telephone. Peters, go on with the +dinner." With small precise steps he walked out of the door which +one of the footmen had hastened to throw open. + +A momentary silence fell on the group; then Mr. Grisben once more +addressed himself to Rainer. "You ought to have gone, my boy; you +ought to have gone." + +The anxious look returned to the youth's eyes. "My uncle doesn't +think so, really." + +"You're not a baby, to be always governed on your uncle's opinion. +You came of age to-day, didn't you? Your uncle spoils you ... +that's what's the matter...." + +The thrust evidently went home, for Rainer laughed and looked down +with a slight accession of color. + +"But the doctor----" + +"Use your common sense, Frank! You had to try twenty doctors to +find one to tell you what you wanted to be told." + +A look of apprehension overshadowed Rainer's gaiety. "Oh, come--I +say! ... What would YOU do?" he stammered. + +"Pack up and jump on the first train." Mr. Grisben leaned forward +and laid a firm hand on the young man's arm "Look here: my nephew +Jim Grisben is out there ranching on a big scale. He'll take you +in and be glad to have you. You say your new doctor thinks it +won't do you any good; but he doesn't pretend to say it will do +you harm, does he? Well, then--give it a trial. It'll take you out +of hot theatres and night restaurants, anyhow.... And all the rest +of it.... Eh, Balch?" + +"Go!" said Mr. Balch hollowly. "Go AT ONCE," he added, as if a +closer look at the youth's face had impressed on him the need of +backing up his friend. + +Young Rainer had turned ashy-pale. He tried to stiffen his mouth, +into a smile. "Do I look as bad as all that?" + +Mr. Grisben was helping himself to terrapin. "You look like the +day after an earthquake," he said concisely. + +The terrapin had encircled the table, and been deliberately +enjoyed by Mr. Lavington's three visitors (Rainer, Faxon noticed, +left his plate untouched) before the door was thrown open to re- +admit their host. + +Mr. Lavington advanced with an air of recovered composure. He +seated himself, picked up his napkin, and consulted the gold- +monogrammed menu. "No, don't bring back the filet.... Some +terrapin; yes...." He looked affably about the table. "Sorry to +have deserted you, but the storm has played the deuce with the +wires, and I had to wait a long time before I could get a good +connection. It must be blowing up for a blizzard." + +"Uncle Jack," young Rainer broke out, "Mr. Grisben's been +lecturing me." + +Mr. Lavington was helping himself to terrapin. "Ah--what about?" + +"He thinks I ought to have given New Mexico a show." + +"I want him to go straight out to my nephew at Santa Paz and stay +there till his next birthday." Mr. Lavington signed to the butler +to hand the terrapin to Mr. Grisben, who, as he took a second +helping, addressed himself again to Rainer. "Jim's in New York +now, and going back the day after to-morrow in Olyphant's private +car. I'll ask Olyphant to squeeze you in if you'll go. And when +you've been out there a week or two, in the saddle all day and +sleeping nine hours a night, I suspect you won't think much of the +doctor who prescribed New York." + +Faxon spoke up, he knew not why. "I was out there once: it's a +splendid life. I saw a fellow--oh, a really BAD case--who'd been +simply made over by it." + +"It DOES sound jolly," Rainer laughed, a sudden eagerness of +anticipation in his tone. + +His uncle looked at him gently. "Perhaps Grisben's right. It's an +opportunity----" + +Faxon looked up with a start: the figure dimly perceived in the +study was now more visibly and tangibly planted behind Mr. +Lavington's chair. + +"That's right, Frank: you see your uncle approves. And the trip +out there with Olyphant isn't a thing to be missed. So drop a few +dozen dinners and be at the Grand Central the day after to-morrow +at five." + +Mr. Grisben's pleasant gray eye sought corroboration of his host, +and Faxon, in a cold anguish of suspense, continued to watch him +as he turned his glance on Mr. Lavington. One could not look at +Lavington without seeing the presence at his back, and it was +clear that, the next minute, some change in Mr. Grisben's +expression must give his watcher a clue. + +But Mr. Grisben's expression did not change: the gaze he fixed on +his host remained unperturbed, and the clue he gave was the +startling one of not seeming to see the other figure. + +Faxon's first impulse was to look away, to look anywhere else, to +resort again to the champagne glass the watchful butler had +already brimmed; but some fatal attraction, at war in him with an +overwhelming physical resistance, held his eyes upon the spot they +feared. + +The figure was still standing, more distinctly, and therefore more +resemblingly, at Mr. Lavington's back; and while the latter +continued to gaze affectionately at his nephew, his counterpart, +as before, fixed young Rainer with eyes of deadly menace. + +Faxon, with what felt like an actual wrench of the muscles, +dragged his own eyes from the sight to scan the other countenances +about the table; but not one revealed the least consciousness of +what he saw, and a sense of mortal isolation sank upon him. + +"It's worth considering, certainly----" he heard Mr. Lavington +continue; and as Rainer's face lit up, the face behind his uncle's +chair seemed to gather into its look all the fierce weariness of +old unsatisfied hates. That was the thing that, as the minutes +labored by, Faxon was becoming most conscious of. The watcher +behind the chair was no longer merely malevolent: he had grown +suddenly, unutterably tired. His hatred seemed to well up out of +the very depths of balked effort and thwarted hopes, and the fact +made him more pitiable, and yet more dire. + +Faxon's look reverted to Mr. Lavington, as if to surprise in him a +corresponding change. At first none was visible: his pinched smile +was screwed to his blank face like a gas-light to a white-washed +wall. Then the fixity of the smile became ominous: Faxon saw that +its wearer was afraid to let it go. It was evident that Mr. +Lavington was unutterably tired too, and the discovery sent a +colder current through Faxon's veins. Looking down at his +untouched plate, he caught the soliciting twinkle of the champagne +glass; but the sight of the wine turned him sick. + +"Well, we'll go into the details presently," he heard Mr. +Lavington say, still on the question of his nephew's future. +"Let's have a cigar first. No--not here, Peters." He turned his +smile on Faxon. "When we've had coffee I want to show you my +pictures." + +"Oh, by the way, Uncle Jack--Mr. Faxon wants to know if you've got +a double?" + +"A double?" Mr. Lavington, still smiling, continued to address +himself to his guest. "Not that I know of. Have you seen one, Mr. +Faxon?" + +Faxon thought: "My God, if I look up now they'll BOTH be looking +at me!" To avoid raising his eyes he made as though to lift the +glass to his lips; but his hand sank inert, and he looked up. Mr. +Lavington's glance was politely bent on him, but with a loosening +of the strain about his heart he saw that the figure behind the +chair still kept its gaze on Rainer. + +"Do you think you've seen my double, Mr. Faxon?" + +Would the other face turn if he said yes? Faxon felt a dryness in +his throat. "No," he answered. + +"Ah? It's possible I've a dozen. I believe I'm extremely usual- +looking," Mr. Lavington went on conversationally; and still the +other face watched Rainer. + +"It was ... a mistake ... a confusion of memory ..." Faxon heard +himself stammer. Mr. Lavington pushed back his chair, and as he +did so Mr. Grisben suddenly leaned forward. "Lavington! What have +we been thinking of? We haven't drunk Frank's health!" + +Mr. Lavington reseated himself. "My dear boy! ... Peters, another +bottle. ..." He turned to his nephew. "After such a sin of +omission I don't presume to propose the toast myself ... but Frank +knows. ... Go ahead, Grisben!" + +The boy shone on his uncle. "No, no, Uncle Jack! Mr. Grisben won't +mind. Nobody but YOU--to-day!" + +The butler was replenishing the glasses. He filled Mr. Lavington's +last, and Mr. Lavington put out his small hand to raise it. ... As +he did so, Faxon looked away. + +"Well, then--All the good I've wished you in all the past years. ... +I put it into the prayer that the coming ones may be healthy +and happy and many ... and MANY, dear boy!" + +Faxon saw the hands about him reach out for their glasses. +Automatically, he made the same gesture. His eyes were still on +the table, and he repeated to himself with a trembling vehemence: +"I won't look up! I won't .... I won't ...." + +His fingers clasped the stem of the glass, and raised it to the +level of his lips. He saw the other hands making the same motion. +He heard Mr. Grisben's genial "Hear! Hear!" and Mr. Balch's hollow +echo. He said to himself, as the rim of the glass touched his +lips: "I won't look up! I swear I won't!--" and he looked. + +The glass was so full that it required an extraordinary effort to +hold it there, brimming and suspended, during the awful interval +before he could trust his hand to lower it again, untouched, to +the table. It was this merciful preoccupation which saved him, +kept him from crying out, from losing his hold, from slipping down +into the bottomless blackness that gaped for him. As long as the +problem of the glass engaged him he felt able to keep his seat, +manage his muscles, fit unnoticeably into the group; but as the +glass touched the table his last link with safety snapped. He +stood up and dashed out of the room. + + + + +IV + +In the gallery, the instinct of self-preservation helped him to +turn back and sign to young Rainer not to follow. He stammered out +something about a touch of dizziness, and joining them presently; +and the boy waved an unsuspecting hand and drew back. + +At the foot of the stairs Faxon ran against a servant. "I should +like to telephone to Weymore," he said with dry lips. + +"Sorry, sir; wires all down. We've been trying the last hour to +get New York again for Mr. Lavington." + +Faxon shot on to his room, burst into it, and bolted the door. The +mild lamplight lay on furniture, flowers, books, in the ashes a +log still glimmered. He dropped down on the sofa and hid his face. +The room was utterly silent, the whole house was still: nothing +about him gave a hint of what was going on, darkly and dumbly, in +the horrible room he had flown from, and with the covering of his +eyes oblivion and reassurance seemed to fall on him. But they fell +for a moment only; then his lids opened again to the monstrous +vision. There it was, stamped on his pupils, a part of him +forever, an indelible horror burnt into his body and brain. But +why into his--just his? Why had he alone been chosen to see what +he had seen? What business was it of HIS, in God's name! Any one +of the others, thus enlightened, might have exposed the horror and +defeated it; but HE, the one weaponless and defenceless spectator, +the one whom none of the others would believe or understand if he +attempted to reveal what he knew--HE alone had been singled out as +the victim of this atrocious initiation! + +Suddenly he sat up, listening: he had heard a step on the stairs. +Some one, no doubt, was coming to see how he was--to urge him, if +he felt better, to go down and join the smokers. Cautiously he +opened his door; yes, it was young Rainer's step. Faxon looked +down the passage, remembered the other stairway and darted to it. +All he wanted was to get out of the house. Not another instant +would he breathe its abominable air! What business was it of HIS, +in God's name? + +He reached the opposite end of the lower gallery, and beyond it +saw the hall by which, he had entered. It was empty, and on a long +table he recognized his coat and cap among the furs of the other +travellers. He got into his coat, unbolted the door, and plunged +into the purifying night. + +The darkness was deep, and the cold so intense that for an instant +it stopped his breathing. Then he perceived that only a thin snow +was falling, and resolutely set his face for flight. The trees +along the avenue dimly marked his way as he hastened with long +strides over the beaten snow. Gradually, while he walked, the +tumult in his brain subsided. The impulse to fly still drove him +forward, but he began to feel that he was flying from a terror of +his own creating, and that the most urgent reason for escape was +the need of hiding his state, of shunning other eyes' scrutiny +till he should regain his balance. + +He had spent the long hours in the train in fruitless broodings on +a discouraging situation, and he remembered how his bitterness had +turned to exasperation when he found that the Weymore sleigh was +not awaiting him. It was absurd, of course; but, though he had +joked with Rainer over Mrs. Culme's forgetfulness, to confess it +had cost a pang. That was what his rootless life had brought him +to: for lack of a personal stake in things his sensibility was at +the mercy of such trivial accidents. ... Yes; that, and the cold +and fatigue, the absence of hope and the haunting sense of starved +aptitudes, all these had brought him to the perilous verge over +which, once or twice before, his terrified brain had hung. + +Why else, in the name of any imaginable logic, human or devilish, +should he, a stranger, be singled out for this experience? What +could it mean to him, how was he related to it, what bearing had +it on his case? ... Unless, indeed, it was just because he was a +stranger-a stranger everywhere--because he had no personal life, +no warm strong screen of private egotisms to shield him from +exposure, that he had developed this abnormal sensitiveness to the +vicissitudes of others. The thought pulled him up with a shudder. +No! Such a fate was too abominable; all that was strong and sound +in him rejected it. A thousand times better regard himself as ill, +disorganized, deluded, than as the predestined victim of such +warnings! + +He reached the gates and paused before the darkened lodge. The +wind had risen and was sweeping the snow into his face in +lacerating streamers. The cold had him in its grasp again, and he +stood uncertain. Should he put his sanity to the test and go back? +He turned and looked down the dark drive to the house. A single +ray shone through the trees, evoking a picture of the lights, the +flowers, the faces grouped about that fatal room. He turned and +plunged out into the road. + +He remembered that, about a mile from Overdale, the coachman had +pointed out the road to Northridge; and he began to walk in that +direction. Once in the road, he had the gale in his face, and the +wet snow on his moustache and eye-lashes instantly hardened to +metal. The same metal seemed to be driving a million blades into +his throat and lungs, but he pushed on, desperately determined, +the vision of the warm room pursuing him. + +The snow in the road was deep and uneven. He stumbled across ruts +and sank into drifts, and the wind rose before him like a granite +cliff. Now and then he stopped, gasping, as if an invisible hand +had tightened an iron band about his body; then he started again, +stiffening himself against the stealthy penetration of the cold. +The snow continued to descend out of a pall of inscrutable +darkness, and once or twice he paused, fearing he had missed the +road to Northridge; but, seeing no sign of a turn, he ploughed on +doggedly. + +At last, feeling sure that he had walked for more than a mile, he +halted and looked back. The act of turning brought immediate +relief, first because it put his back to the wind, and then +because, far down the road, it showed him the advancing gleam of a +lantern. A sleigh was coming--a sleigh that might perhaps give him +a lift to the village! Fortified by the hope, he began to walk +back toward the light. It seemed to come forward very slowly, with +unaccountable zigzags and waverings; and even when he was within a +few yards of it he could catch no sound of sleigh-bells. Then the +light paused and became stationary by the roadside, as though +carried by a pedestrian who had stopped, exhausted by the cold. +The thought made Faxon hasten on, and a moment later he was +stooping over a motionless figure huddled against the snow-bank. +The lantern had dropped from its bearer's hand, and Faxon, +fearfully raising it, threw its light into the face of Frank +Rainer. + +"Rainer! What on earth are you doing here!" + +The boy smiled back through his pallor. "What are YOU, I'd like to +know?" he retorted; and, scrambling to his feet with a clutch on +Faxon's arm, he added gaily: "Well, I've run you down, anyhow!" + +Faxon stood confounded, his heart sinking. The lad's face was +gray. + +"What madness--" he began. + +"Yes, it IS. What on earth did you do it for?" + +"I? Do what? ... Why, I ... I was just taking a walk. ... I often +walk at night. ..." + +Frank Rainer burst into a laugh. "On such nights? Then you hadn't +bolted!" + +"Bolted?" + +"Because I'd done something to offend you? My uncle thought you +had." + +Faxon grasped his arm. "Did your uncle send you after me?" + +"Well, he gave me an awful rowing for not going up to your room +with you when you said you were ill. And when we found you'd gone +we were frightened--and he was awfully upset--so I said I'd catch +you. ... You're NOT ill, are you?" + +"Ill? No. Never better." Faxon picked up the lantern. "Come; let's +go back. It was awfully hot in that dining-room," he added. + +"Yes; I hoped it was only that." + +They trudged on in silence for a few minutes; then Faxon +questioned: "You're not too done up?" + +"Oh, no. It's a lot easier with the wind behind us." + +"All right. Don't talk any more." + +They pushed ahead, walking, in spite of the light that guided +them, more slowly than Faxon had walked alone into the gale. The +fact of his companion's stumbling against a drift gave him a +pretext for saying: "Take hold of my arm," and Rainer, obeying, +gasped out: "I'm blown!" + +"So am I. Who wouldn't be?" + +"What a dance you led me! If it hadn't been for one of the +servants' happening to see you--" + +"Yes: all right. And now, won't you kindly shut up?" + +Rainer laughed and hung on him. "Oh, the cold doesn't hurt me. ..." + +For the first few minutes after Rainer had overtaken him, anxiety +for the lad had been Faxon's only thought. But as each laboring +step carried them nearer to the spot he had been fleeing, the +reasons for his flight grew more ominous and more insistent. No, +he was not ill; he was not distraught and deluded--he was the +instrument singled out to warn and save; and here he was, +irresistibly driven, dragging the victim back to his doom! + +The intensity of the conviction had almost checked his steps. But +what could he do or say? At all costs he must get Rainer out of +the cold, into the house and into his bed. After that he would +act. + +The snow-fall was thickening, and as they reached a stretch of the +road between open fields the wind took them at an angle, lashing +their faces with barbed thongs. Rainer stopped to take breath, and +Faxon felt the heavier pressure of his arm. + +"When we get to the lodge, can't we telephone to the stable for a +sleigh?" + +"If they're not all asleep at the lodge." + +"Oh, I'll manage. Don't talk!" Faxon ordered; and they plodded on. ... + +At length the lantern ray showed ruts that curved away from the +road under tree-darkness. + +Faxon's spirits rose. "There's the gate! We'll be there in five +minutes." + +As he spoke he caught, above the boundary hedge, the gleam of a +light at the farther end of the dark avenue. It was the same light +that had shone on the scene of which every detail was burnt into +his brain; and he felt again its overpowering reality. No--he +couldn't let the boy go back! + +They were at the lodge at last, and Faxon was hammering on the +door. He said to himself: "I'll get him inside first, and make +them give him a hot drink. Then I'll see--I'll find an argument. ..." + +There was no answer to his knocking, and after an interval Rainer +said: "Look here--we'd better go on." + +"No!" + +"I can, perfectly--" + +"You sha'n't go to the house, I say!" Faxon furiously redoubled +his blows, and at length steps sounded on the stairs. Rainer was +leaning against the lintel, and as the door opened the light from +the hall flashed on his pale face and fixed eyes. Faxon caught him +by the arm and drew him in. + +"It WAS cold out there," he sighed; and then, abruptly, as if +invisible shears at a single stroke had cut every muscle in his +body, he swerved, drooped on Faxon's arm, and seemed to sink into +nothing at his feet. + +The lodge-keeper and Faxon bent over him, and somehow, between +them, lifted him into the kitchen and laid him on a sofa by the +stove. + +The lodge-keeper, stammering: "I'll ring up the house," dashed out +of the room. But Faxon heard the words without heeding them: omens +mattered nothing now, beside this woe fulfilled. He knelt down to +undo the fur collar about Rainer's throat, and as he did so he +felt a warm moisture on his hands. He held them up, and they were +red. ... + + + + +V + +The palms threaded their endless line along the yellow river. The +little steamer lay at the wharf, and George Faxon, sitting in the +veranda of the wooden hotel, idly watched the coolies carrying the +freight across the gang-plank. + +He had been looking at such scenes for two months. Nearly five had +elapsed since he had descended from the train at Northridge and +strained his eyes for the sleigh that was to take him to Weymore: +Weymore, which he was never to behold! ... Part of the interval-- +the first part--was still a great gray blur. Even now he could not +be quite sure how he had got back to Boston, reached the house of +a cousin, and been thence transferred to a quiet room looking out +on snow under bare trees. He looked out a long time at the same +scene, and finally one day a man he had known at Harvard came to +see him and invited him to go out on a business trip to the Malay +Peninsula. + +"You've had a bad shake-up, and it'll do you no end of good to get +away from things." + +When the doctor came the next day it turned out that he knew of +the plan and approved it. "You ought to be quiet for a year. Just +loaf and look at the landscape," he advised. + +Faxon felt the first faint stirrings of curiosity. + +"What's been the matter with me, anyhow?" + +"Well, over-work, I suppose. You must have been bottling up for a +bad breakdown before you started for New Hampshire last December. +And the shock of that poor boy's death did the rest." + +Ah, yes--Rainer had died. He remembered. ... + +He started for the East, and gradually, by imperceptible degrees, +life crept back into his weary bones and leaden brain. His friend +was very considerate and forbearing, and they travelled slowly and +talked little. At first Faxon had felt a great shrinking from +whatever touched on familiar things. He seldom looked at a +newspaper, he never opened a letter without a moment's contraction +of the heart. It was not that he had any special cause for +apprehension, but merely that a great trail of darkness lay on +everything. He had looked too deep down into the abyss. ... But +little by little health and energy returned to him, and with them +the common promptings of curiosity. He was beginning to wonder how +the world was going, and when, presently, the hotel-keeper told +him there were no letters for him in the steamer's mail-bag, he +felt a distinct sense of disappointment. His friend had gone into +the jungle on a long excursion, and he was lonely, unoccupied, and +wholesomely bored. He got up and strolled into the stuffy reading- +room. + +There he found a game of dominoes, a mutilated picture-puzzle, +some copies of Zion's Herald, and a pile of New York and London +newspapers. + +He began to glance through the papers, and was disappointed to +find that they were less recent than he had hoped. Evidently the +last numbers had been carried off by luckier travellers. He +continued to turn them over, picking out the American ones first. +These, as it happened, were the oldest: they dated back to +December and January. To Faxon, however, they had all the flavor +of novelty, since they covered the precise period during which he +had virtually ceased to exist. It had never before occurred to him +to wonder what had happened in the world during that interval of +obliteration; but now he felt a sudden desire to know. + +To prolong the pleasure, he began by sorting the papers +chronologically, and as he found and spread out the earliest +number, the date at the top of the page entered into his +consciousness like a key slipping into a lock. It was the +seventeenth of December: the date of the day after his arrival at +Northridge. He glanced at the first page and read in blazing +characters: "Reported Failure of Opal Cement Company. Lavington's +Name Involved. Gigantic Exposure of Corruption Shakes Wall Street +to Its Foundations." + +He read on, and when he had finished the first paper he turned to +the next. There was a gap of three days, but the Opal Cement +"Investigation" still held the centre of the stage. From its +complex revelations of greed and ruin his eye wandered to the +death notices, and he read: "Rainer. Suddenly, at Northridge, New +Hampshire, Francis John, only son of the late. ..." + +His eyes clouded, and he dropped the newspaper and sat for a long +time with his face in his hands. When he looked up again he +noticed that his gesture had pushed the other papers from the +table and scattered them on the floor at his feet. The uppermost +lay spread out before him, and heavily his eyes began their search +again. "John Lavington comes forward with plan for reconstructing +Company. Offers to put in ten millions of his own--The proposal +under consideration by the District Attorney." + +Ten millions ... ten millions of his own. But if John Lavington +was ruined? ... Faxon stood up with a cry. That was it, then--that +was what the warning meant! And if he had not fled from it, dashed +wildly away from it into the night, he might have broken the spell +of iniquity, the powers of darkness might not have prevailed! He +caught up the pile of newspapers and began to glance through each +in turn for the headline: "Wills Admitted to Probate". In the last +of all he found the paragraph he sought, and it stared up at him +as if with Rainer's dying eyes. + +That--THAT was what he had done! The powers of pity had singled +him out to warn and save, and he had closed his ears to their +call, had washed his hands of it, and fled. Washed his hands of +it! That was the word. It caught him back to the dreadful moment +in the lodge when, raising himself up from Rainer's side, he had +looked at his hands and seen that they were red. ... + + + + + + +A MESSENGER + +BY + +MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS + +The Berserker of the North, because he believed in the directing +power of the gods, knew no fear. Death or life--it was meted out +by a destiny that could not err. In song and story he has been one +of the most attractive figures of the past; far more attractive in +his savage virtues than the more sensuous heroes of Greece and +Rome. In this story he lives again in the American boy who has his +ancestor's inexplicable uplift of spirit in the presence of danger +and his implicit faith in "the God of battles and the beauty of +holiness." The ideal of Miles Morgan is such a man as Chinese +Gordon, who, not only in youth but all through life, had eyes for +"the vision splendid." + +The ethical value of "A Messenger" may be summed up in the words +of the General: "There is nothing in Americanism to prevent either +inspiration or heroism." + + + + +A MESSENGER + +[Footnote: From "The Militants," by Mary R. S. Andrews. Copyright, +1907, by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + How oft do they their silver bowers leave, + To come to succour us that succour want! + How oft do they with golden pineons cleave + The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuivant, + Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant! + They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward, + And their bright Squadrons round about us plant; + And all for love, and nothing for reward. + O! Why should heavenly God to men have such regard? + + --Spenser's "Faerie Queene." + + +That the other world of our hope rests on no distant, shining +star, but lies about us as an atmosphere, unseen yet near, is the +belief of many. The veil of material life shades earthly eyes, +they say, from the glories in which we ever are. But sometimes +when the veil wears thin in mortal stress, or is caught away by a +rushing, mighty wind of inspiration, the trembling human soul, so +bared, so purified, may look down unimagined heavenly vistas, and +messengers may steal across the shifting boundary, breathing hope +and the air of a brighter world. And of him who speaks his vision, +men say "He is mad," or "He has dreamed." + +The group of officers in the tent was silent for a long half +minute after Colonel Wilson's voice had stopped. Then the General +spoke. + +"There is but one thing to do," he said. "We must get word to +Captain Thornton at once." + +The Colonel thought deeply a moment, and glanced at the orderly +outside the tent. "Flannigan!" The man, wheeling swiftly, saluted. +"Present my compliments to Lieutenant Morgan and say that I should +like to see him here at once," and the soldier went off, with the +quick military precision in which there is no haste and no delay. + +"You have some fine, powerful young officers, Colonel," sail the +General casually. "I suppose we shall see in Lieutenant Morgan one +of the best. It will take strength and brains both, perhaps, for +this message." + +A shadow of a smile touched the Colonel's lips. "I think I have +chosen a capable man, General," was all he said. + +Against the doorway of the tent the breeze blew the flap lazily +back and forth. A light rain fell with muffled gentle insistence +on the canvas over their heads, and out through the opening the +landscape was blurred--the wide stretch of monotonous, billowy +prairie, the sluggish, shining river, bending in the distance +about the base of Black Wind Mountain--Black Wind Mountain, whose +high top lifted, though it was almost June, a white point of snow +above dark pine ridges of the hills below. The five officers +talked a little as they waited, but spasmodically, absent- +mindedly. A shadow blocked the light of the entrance, and in the +doorway stood a young man, undersized, slight, blond. He looked +inquiringly at the Colonel. + +"You sent for me, sir?" and the General and his aide, and the +grizzled old Captain, and the big, fresh-faced young one, all +watched him. + +In direct, quiet words--words whose bareness made them dramatic +for the weight of possibility they carried--the Colonel explained. +Black Wolf and his band were out on the war-path. A soldier coming +in wounded, escaped from the massacre of the post at Devil's Hoof +Gap, had reported it. With the large command known to be here +camped on Sweetstream Fork, they would not come this way; they +would swerve up the Gunpowder River twenty miles away, destroying +the settlement and Little Fort Slade, and would sweep on, probably +for a general massacre, up the Great Horn as far as Fort +Doncaster. He himself, with the regiment, would try to save Fort +Slade, but in the meantime Captain Thornton's troop, coming to +join him, ignorant that Black Wolf had taken the war-path, would +be directly in their track. Some one must be sent to warn them, +and of course the fewer the quicker. Lieutenant Morgan would take +a sergeant, the Colonel ordered quietly, and start at once. + +In the misty light inside the tent, the young officer looked +hardly more than seventeen years old as he stood listening. His +small figure was light, fragile; his hair was blond to an extreme, +a thick thatch of pale gold; and there was about him, among these +tanned, stalwart men in uniform, a presence, an effect of +something unusual, a simplicity out of place yet harmonious, which +might have come with a little child into a scene like this. His +large blue eyes were fixed on the Colonel as he talked, and in +them was just such a look of innocent, pleased wonder, as might be +in a child's eyes, who had been told to leave studying and go pick +violets. But as the Colonel ended he spoke, and the few words he +said, the few questions he asked, were full of poise, of crisp +directness. As the General volunteered a word or two, he turned to +him and answered with a very charming deference, a respect that +was yet full of gracious ease, the unconscious air of a man to +whom generals are first as men, and then as generals. The slight +figure in its dark uniform was already beyond the tent doorway +when the Colonel spoke again, with a shade of hesitation in his +manner. + +"Mr. Morgan!" and the young officer turned quickly. "I think it +may be right to warn you that there is likely to be more than +usual danger in your ride." + +"Yes, sir." The fresh, young voice had a note of inquiry. + +"You will--you will"--what was it the Colonel wanted to say? He +finished abruptly. "Choose the man carefully who goes with you." + +"Thank you, Colonel," Morgan responded heartily, but with a hint +of bewilderment. "I shall take Sergeant O'Hara," and he was gone. + +There was a touch of color in the Colonel's face, and he sighed as +if glad to have it over. The General watched him, and slowly, +after a pause, he demanded: + +"May I ask, Colonel, why you chose that blond baby to send on a +mission of uncommon danger and importance?" + +The Colonel answered quietly: "There were several reasons, +General--good ones. The blond baby"--that ghost of a smile touched +the Colonel's lips again--"the blond baby has some remarkable +qualities. He never loses his head; he has uncommon invention and +facility of getting out of bad holes; he rides light and so can +make a horse last longer than most, and"--the Colonel considered a +moment--"I may say he has no fear of death. Even among my officers +he is known for the quality of his courage. There is one more +reason: he is the most popular man I have, both with officers and +men; if anything happened to Morgan the whole command would race +into hell after the devils that did it before they would miss +their revenge." + +The General reflected, pulling at his moustache. "It seems a bit +like taking advantage of his popularity," he said. + +"It is," the Colonel threw back quickly. "It's just that. But +that's what one must do--a commanding officer--isn't it so, +General? In this war music we play on human instruments, and if a +big chord comes out stronger for the silence of a note, the note +must be silenced--that's all. It's cruel, but it's fighting; it's +the game." + +The General, as if impressed with the tense words, did not +respond, and the other officers stared at the Colonel's face, as +carved, as stern as if done in marble--a face from which the warm, +strong heart seldom shone, held back always by the stronger will. + +The big, fresh-colored young Captain broke the silence. "Has the +General ever heard of the trick Morgan played on Sun Boy, sir?" he +asked. + +"Tell the General, Captain Booth," the Colonel said briefly, and +the Captain turned toward the higher officer. + +"It was apropos of what the Colonel said of his incentive +faculties, General," he began. "A year ago the youngster with a +squad of ten men walked into Sun Boy's camp of seventy-five +warriors. Morgan had made quite a pet of a young Sioux, who was +our prisoner for five months, and the boy had taught him a lot of +the language, and assured him that he would have the friendship of +the band in return for his kindness to Blue Arrow--that was the +chap's name. So he thought he was safe; but it turned out that +Blue Arrow's father, a chief, had got into a row with Sun Boy, and +the latter would not think of ratifying the boy's promise. So +there was Morgan with his dozen men, in a nasty enough fix. He +knew plenty of Indian talk to understand that they were discussing +what they would do with him, and it wasn't pleasant. + +"All of a sudden he had an inspiration. He tells the story +himself, sir, and I assure you he'd make you laugh--Morgan is a +wonderful mimic. Well, he remembered suddenly, as I said, that he +was a mighty good ventriloquist, and he saw his chance. He gave a +great jump like a startled fawn, and threw up his arms and stared +like one demented into the tree over their heads. There was a +mangy-looking crow sitting up there on a branch, and Morgan +pointed at him as if at something marvellous, supernatural, and +all those fool Indians stopped pow-wowing and stared up after him, +as curious as monkeys. Then to all appearances, the crow began to +talk. Morgan said they must have thought that spirits didn't speak +very choice Sioux, but he did his best. The bird cawed out: + +"'Oh, Sun Boy, great chief, beware what you do!' + +"And then the real bird flapped its wings and Morgan thought it +was going to fly, and he was lost. But it settled back again on +the branch, and Morgan proceeded to caw on: + +"'Hurt not the white man, or the curses of the gods will come upon +Sun Boy and his people.' + +"And he proceeded to give a list of what would happen if the +Indians touched a hair of their heads. By this time the red devils +were all down on their stomachs, moaning softly whenever Morgan +stopped cawing. He said he quite got into the spirit of it, and +would have liked to go on some time, but he was beginning to get +hoarse, and besides he was; in deadly terror for fear the crow +would fly before he got to the point. So he had the spirit order +them to give the white men their horses and turn them loose +instanter; and just as he got all through, off went the thing with +a big flap and a parting caw on its own account. I wish I could +tell it as Morgan does--you'd think he was a bird and an Indian +rolled together. He's a great actor spoiled, that lad." + +"You leave out a fine point, to my mind, Captain Booth," the +Colonel said quickly. "About his going back." + +"Oh! certainly that ought to be told," said the Captain, and the +General's eyes turned to him again. "Morgan forgot to see young +Blue Arrow, his friend, before he got away, and nothing would do +but that he should go back and speak to him. He said the boy would +be disappointed. The men were visibly uneasy at his going, but +that didn't affect him. He ordered them to wait, and back he went, +pell-mell, all alone into that horde of fiends. They hadn't got +over their funk, luckily, and he saw Blue Arrow and made his party +call and got out again all right. He didn't tell that himself, but +Sergeant O'Hara made the camp ring with it. He adores Morgan, and +claims that he doesn't know what fear is. I believe it's about so. +I've seen him in a fight three times now. His cap always goes off +--he loses a cap every blessed scrimmage--and with that yellow mop +of hair, and a sort of rapt expression he gets, he looks like a +child saying its prayers all the time he is slashing and shooting +like a berserker." Captain Booth faced abruptly toward the +Colonel. "I beg your pardon for talking so long, sir," he said. +"You know we're all rather keen about little Miles Morgan." + +The General lifted his head suddenly. "Miles Morgan?" he demanded. +"Is his name Miles Morgan?" + +The Colonel nodded. "Yes. The grandson of the old Bishop--named +for him." + +"Lord!" ejaculated the General. "Miles Morgan was my earliest +friend, my friend until he died! This must be Jim's son--Miles's +only child. And Jim is dead these ten years," he went on rapidly. +"I've lost track of him since the Bishop died, but I knew Jim left +children. Why, he married "--he searched rapidly in his memory-- +"he married a daughter of General Fitzbrian's. This boy's got the +church and the army both in him. I knew his mother," he went on, +talking to the Colonel, garrulous with interest. "Irish and +fascinating she was--believed in fairies and ghosts and all that, +as her father did before her. A clever woman, but with the +superstitious, wild Irish blood strong in her. Good Lord! I wish +I'd known that was Miles Morgan's grandson." + +The Colonel's voice sounded quiet and rather cold after the +General's impulsive enthusiasm. "You have summed him up by his +antecedents, General," he said. "The church and the army--both +strains are strong. He is deeply religious." + +The General looked thoughtful. "Religious, eh? And popular? They +don't always go together." + +Captain Booth spoke quickly. "It's not that kind, General," he +said. "There's no cant in the boy. He's more popular for it-- +that's often so with the genuine thing, isn't it! I sometimes +think"--the young Captain hesitated and smiled a trifle +deprecatingly--"that Morgan is much of the same stuff as Gordon-- +Chinese Gordon; the martyr stuff, you know. But it seems a bit +rash to compare an every-day American youngster to an inspired +hero." + +"There's nothing in Americanism to prevent either inspiration or +heroism that I know of," the General affirmed stoutly, his fine +old head up, his eyes gleaming with pride of his profession. + +Out through the open doorway, beyond the slapping tent-flap, the +keen, gray eyes of the Colonel were fixed musingly on two black +points which crawled along the edge of the dulled silver of the +distant river--Miles Morgan and Sergeant O'Hara had started. + +"Sergeant!" They were eight miles out now, and the camp had +disappeared behind the elbow of Black Wind Mountain. "There's +something wrong with your horse. Listen! He's not loping evenly." +The soft cadence of eight hoofs on earth had somewhere a lighter +and then a heavier note; the ear of a good horseman tells in a +minute, as a musician's ear at a false note, when an animal saves +one foot ever so slightly, to come down harder on another. + +"Yessirr. The Lieutenant'll remimber 'tis the horrse that had a +bit of a spavin. Sure I thot 'twas cured, and 'tis the kindest +baste in the rigiment f'r a pleasure ride, sorr--that willin' +'tis. So I tuk it. I think 'tis only the stiffness at furrst aff. +'Twill wurruk aff later. Plaze God, I'll wallop him." And the +Sergeant walloped with a will. + +But the kindest beast in the regiment failed to respond except +with a plunge and increased lameness. Soon there was no more +question of his incapacity. + +Lieutenant Morgan halted his mount, and, looking at the woe-begone +O'Hara, laughed. "A nice trick this is, Sergeant," he said, "to +start out on a trip to dodge Indians with a spavined horse. Why +didn't you get a broomstick? Now go back to camp as fast as you +can go; and that horse ought to be blistered when you get there. +See if you can't really cure him. He's too good to be shot." He +patted the gray's nervous head, and the beast rubbed it gently +against his sleeve, quiet under his hand. + +"Yessirr. The Lieutenant'll ride slow, sorr, f'r me to catch up on +ye, sorr?" + +Miles Morgan smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, Sergeant, but +there'll be no slow riding in this. I'll have to press right on +without you; I must be at Massacre Mountain to-night to catch +Captain Thornton to-morrow." + +Sergeant O'Hara's chin dropped. "Sure the Lieutenant'll niver be +thinkin' to g'wan alone--widout me?" and with all the Sergeant's +respect for his superiors, it took the Lieutenant ten valuable +minutes to get the man started back, shaking his head and +muttering forebodings, to the camp. + +It was quiet riding on alone. There were a few miles to go before +there was any chance of Indians, and no particular lookout to be +kept, so he put the horse ahead rapidly while he might, and +suddenly he found himself singing softly as he galloped. How the +words had come to him he did not know, for no conscious train of +thought had brought them; but they surely fitted to the situation, +and a pleasant sense of companionship, of safety, warmed him as +the swing of an old hymn carried his voice along with it. + +"God shall charge His angel legions Watch and ward o'er thee to +keep; Though thou walk through hostile regions, Though in desert +wilds thou sleep." + +Surely a man riding toward--perhaps through--skulking Indian +hordes, as he must, could have no better message reach him than +that. The bent of his mind was toward mysticism, and while he did +not think the train of reasoning out, could not have said that he +believed it so, yet the familiar lines flashing suddenly, clearly, +on the curtain of his mind, seemed to him, very simply, to be sent +from a larger thought than his own. As a child might take a strong +hand held out as it walked over rough country, so he accepted this +quite readily and happily, as from that Power who was never far +from him, and in whose service, beyond most people, he lived and +moved. Low but clear and deep his voice went on, following one +stanza with its mate: + +"Since with pure and firm affection Thou on God hast set thy love, +With the wings of His protection He will shield thee from above." +The simplicity of his being sheltered itself in the broad promise +of the words. + +Light-heartedly he rode on and on, though now more carefully; +lying flat and peering over the crests of hills a long time before +he crossed their tops; going miles perhaps through ravines; taking +advantage of every bit of cover where a man and a horse might be +hidden; travelling as he had learned to travel in three years of +experience in this dangerous Indian country, where a shrub taken +for granted might mean a warrior, and that warrior a hundred +others within signal. It was his plan to ride until about twelve-- +to reach Massacre Mountain, and there rest his horse and himself +till gray daylight. There was grass there and a spring--two good +and innocent things that had been the cause of the bad, dark thing +which had given the place its name. A troop under Captain James +camping at this point, because of the water and grass, had been +surprised and wiped out by five hundred Indian braves of the +wicked and famous Red Crow. There were ghastly signs about the +place yet; Morgan had seen them, but soldiers may not have nerves, +and it was good camping ground. + +On through the valleys and half-way up the slopes, which rolled +here far away into a still wilder world, the young man rode. +Behind the distant hills in the east a glow like fire flushed the +horizon. A rim of pale gold lifted sharply over the ridge; a huge +round ball of light pushed faster, higher, and lay, a bright world +on the edge of the world, great against the sky--the moon had +risen. The twilight trembled as the yellow rays struck into its +depths, and deepened, dying into purple shadows. Across the plain +zigzagged the pools of a level stream, as if a giant had spilled +handfuls of quicksilver here and there. + +Miles Morgan, riding, drank in all the mysterious, wild beauty, as +a man at ease; as open to each fair impression as if he were not +riding each moment into deeper danger, as if his every sense were +not on guard. On through the shining moonlight and in the shadow +of the hills he rode, and, where he might, through the trees, and +stopped to listen often, to stare at the hilltops, to question a +heap of stones or a bush. + +At last, when his leg-weary horse was beginning to stumble a bit, +he saw, as he came around a turn, Massacre Mountain's dark head +rising in front of him, only half a mile away. The spring trickled +its low song, as musical, as limpidly pure as if it had never run +scarlet. The picketed horse fell to browsing and Miles sighed +restfully as he laid his head on his saddle and fell instantly to +sleep with the light of the moon on his damp, fair hair. But he +did not sleep long. Suddenly with a start he awoke, and sat up +sharply, and listened. He heard the horse still munching grass +near him, and made out the shadow of its bulk against the sky; he +heard the stream, softly falling and calling to the waters where +it was going. That was all. Strain his hearing as: he might he +could hear nothing else in the still night. Yet there was +something. It might not be sound or sight, but there was a +presence, a something--he could not explain. He was alert in every +nerve. Suddenly the words of the hymn he had been singing in the +afternoon flashed again into his mind, and, with his cocked +revolver in his hand, alone, on guard, in the midnight of the +savage wilderness, the words came that were not even a whisper: + +"God shall charge His angel legions Watch and ward o'er thee to +keep; Though thou walk through hostile regions, Though in desert +wilds thou sleep." + +He gave a contented sigh and lay down. What was there to worry +about? It was just his case for which the hymn was written." +Desert wilds "--that surely meant Massacre Mountain, and why +should he not sleep here quietly, and let the angels keep their +watch and ward! He closed his eyes with a smile. But sleep did not +come, and soon his eyes were open again, staring into blackness, +thinking, thinking. + +It was Sunday when he started out on this mission, and he fell to +remembering the Sunday nights at home--long, long ago they seemed +now. The family sang hymns after supper always; his mother played, +and the children stood around her--five of them, Miles and his +brothers and sisters. There was a little sister with brown hair +about her shoulders, who always stood by Miles, leaned against +him, held his hand, looked up at him with adoring eyes--he could +see those uplifted eyes now, shining through the darkness of this +lonely place. He remembered the big, home-like room; the crackling +fire; the peaceful atmosphere of books and pictures; the dumb +things about its walls that were yet eloquent to him of home and +family; the sword that his great-grandfather had worn under +Washington; the old ivories that another great-grandfather, the +Admiral, had brought from China; the portraits of Morgans of half +a dozen generations which hung there; the magazine table, the +books and books and books. A pang of desperate homesickness +suddenly shook him. He wanted them--his own. Why should he, their +best-beloved, throw away his life--a life filled to the brim with +hope and energy and high ideals--on this futile quest? He knew +quite as well as the General or the Colonel that his ride was but +a forlorn hope. As he lay there, longing so, in the dangerous +dark, he went about the library at home in his thought and placed +each familiar belonging where he had known it all his life. And as +he finished, his mother's head shone darkly golden by the piano; +her fingers swept over the keys; he heard all their voices, the +dear never-forgotten voices. Hark! They were singing his hymn-- +little Alice's reedy note lifted above the others--"God shall +charge His angel legions--" + +Now! He was on his feet with a spring, and his revolver pointed +steadily. This time there was no mistaking--something had rustled +in the bushes. There was but one thing for it to be--Indians. +Without realizing what he did, he spoke sharply. + +"Who goes there?" he demanded, and out of the darkness a voice +answered quietly: + +"A friend." + +"A friend?" With a shock of relief the pistol dropped by his side, +and he stood tense, waiting. How might a friend be here, at +midnight in this desert! As the thought framed itself swiftly the +leaves parted, and his straining eyes saw the figure of a young +man standing before him. + +"How came you here?" demanded Miles sternly. "Who are you!" + +Even in the dimness he could see the radiant smile that answered +him. The calm voice spoke again: "You will understand that later. +I am here to help you." + +As if a door had suddenly opened into that lighted room of which +he dreamed, Miles felt a sense of tranquillity, of happiness +stirring through him. Never in his life had he known such a sudden +utter confidence in any one, such a glow of eager friendliness as +this half-seen, mysterious stranger inspired. "It is because I was +lonelier than I knew," he said mentally. "It is because human +companionship gives courage to the most self-reliant of us;" and +somewhere in the words he was aware of a false note, but he did +not stop to place it. + +The low, even voice of the stranger spoke again. "There are +Indians on your trail," he said. "A small band of Black Wolf's +scouts. But don't be troubled. They will not hurt you." + +"You escaped from them?" demanded Miles eagerly, and again the +light of a swift smile shone into the night. "You came to save me +--how was it? Tell me, so that we can plan. It is very dark yet, +but hadn't we better ride? Where is your horse?" + +He threw the earnest questions rapidly across the black night, and +the unhurried voice answered him. "No," it said, and the verdict +was not to be disputed. "You must stay here." + +Who this man might be or how he came Miles could not tell, but +this much he knew, without reason for knowing it; it was some one +stronger than he, in whom he could trust. As the new-comer had +said, it would be time enough later to understand the rest. +Wondering a little at his own swift acceptance of an unknown +authority, wondering more at the peace which wrapped him as an +atmosphere at the sound of the stranger's voice, Miles made a +place for him by his side, and the two talked softly to the +plashing undertone of the stream. + +Easily, naturally, Miles found himself telling how he had been +homesick, longing for his people. He told him of the big familiar +room, and of the old things that were in it, that he loved; of his +mother; of little Alice, and her baby adoration for the big +brother; of how they had always sung hymns together Sunday night; +he never for a moment doubted the stranger's interest and +sympathy--he knew that he cared to hear. + +"There is a hymn," Miles said, "that we used to sing a lot--it was +my favorite; 'Miles's hymn,' the family called it. Before you came +to-night, while I lay there getting lonelier every minute, I +almost thought I heard them singing it. You may not have heard it, +but it has a grand swing. I always think"--he hesitated--"it +always seems to me as if the God of battles and the beauty of +holiness must both have filled the man's mind who wrote it." He +stopped, surprised at his own lack of reserve, at the freedom with +which, to this friend of an hour, he spoke his inmost heart. + +"I know," the stranger said gently. There was silence for a +moment, and then the wonderful low tones, beautiful, clear, beyond +any voice Miles had ever heard, began again, and it was as if the +great sweet notes of an organ whispered the words: + +"God shall charge His angel legions Watch and ward o'er thee to +keep; Though thou walk through hostile regions, Though in desert +wilds thou sleep." + +"Great Heavens!" gasped Miles. "How could you know I meant that? +Why, this is marvellous--why, this"--he stared, speechless, at the +dim outlines of the face which he had never seen before to-night, +but which seemed to him already familiar and dear beyond all +reason. As he gazed the tall figure rose, lightly towering above +him. "Look!" he said, and Miles was on his feet. In the east, +beyond the long sweep of the prairie, was a faint blush against +the blackness; already threads of broken light, of pale darkness, +stirred through the pall of the air; the dawn was at hand. + +"We must saddle," Miles said, "and be off. Where is your horse +picketed?" he demanded again. + +But the strange young man stood still; and now his arm was +stretched pointing. "Look," he said again, and Miles followed the +direction with his eyes. + +From the way he had come, in that fast-growing glow at the edge of +the sky, sharp against the mist of the little river, crept slowly +half a dozen pin points, and Miles, watching their tiny movement, +knew that they were ponies bearing Indian braves. He turned hotly +to his companion. + +"It's your fault," he said. "If I'd had my way we'd have ridden +from here an hour ago. Now here we are caught like rats in a trap; +and who's to do my work and save Thornton's troop--who's to save +them--God!" The name was a prayer, not an oath. + +"Yes," said the quiet voice at his side, "God,"--and for a second +there was a silence that was like an Amen. + +Quickly, without a word, Miles turned and began to saddle. Then +suddenly, as he pulled at the girth, he stopped. "It's no use," he +said. "We can't get away except over the rise, and they'll see us +there;" he nodded at the hill which rose beyond the camping ground +three hundred yards away, and stretched in a long, level sweep +into other hills and the west. "Our chance is that they're not on +my trail after all--it's quite possible." There was a tranquil +unconcern about the figure near him; his own bright courage caught +the meaning of its relaxed lines with a bound of pleasure. "As you +say, it's best to stay here," he said, and as if thinking aloud-- +"I believe you must always be right." Then he added, as if his +very soul would speak itself to this wonderful new friend: "We +can't be killed, unless the Lord wills it, and if he does it's +right. Death is only the step into life; I suppose when we know +that life, we will wonder how we could have cared for this one." + +Through the gray light the stranger turned his face swiftly, bent +toward Miles, and smiled once again, and the boy thought suddenly +of the martyrdom of St. Stephen, and how those who were looking +"saw his face as it had been the face of an angel." + +Across the plain, out of the mist-wreaths, came rushing, +scurrying, the handful of Indian braves. Pale light streamed now +from the east, filtering over a hushed world. Miles faced across +the plain, stood close to the tall stranger whose shape, as the +dawn touched it, seemed to rise beyond the boy's slight figure +wonderfully large and high. There was a sense of unending power, +of alertness, of great, easy movement about him; one might have +looked at him, and looking away again, have said that wings were +folded about him. But Miles did not see him. His eyes were on the +fast nearing, galloping ponies, each with its load of filthy, +cruel savagery. This was his death coming; there was disgust, but +not dread in the thought for the boy. In a few minutes he should +be fighting hopelessly, fiercely against this froth of a lower +world; in a few minutes after that he should be lying here still-- +for he meant to be killed; he had that planned. They should not +take him--a wave of sick repulsion at that thought shook him. +Nearer, nearer, right on his track came the riders pell-mell. He +could hear their weird, horrible cries; now he could see gleaming +through the dimness the huge head-dress of the foremost, the white +coronet of feathers, almost the stripes of paint on the fierce +face. + +Suddenly a feeling that he knew well caught him, and he laughed. +It was the possession that had held in him in every action which +he had so far been in. It lifted his high-strung spirit into an +atmosphere where there was no dread and no disgust, only a keen +rapture in throwing every atom of soul and body into physical +intensity; it was as if he himself were a bright blade, dashing, +cutting, killing, a living sword rejoicing to destroy. With the +coolness that may go with such a frenzy he felt that his pistols +were loose; saw with satisfaction that he and his new ally were +placed on the slope to the best advantage, then turned swiftly, +eager now for the fight to come, toward the Indian band. As he +looked, suddenly in mid-career, pulling in their plunging ponies +with a jerk that threw them, snorting, on their haunches, the +warriors halted. Miles watched in amazement. The bunch of Indians, +not more than a hundred yards away, were staring, arrested, +startled, back of him to his right, where the lower ridge of +Massacre Mountain stretched far and level over the valley that +wound westward beneath it on the road to Fort Rain-and-Thunder. As +he gazed, the ponies had swept about and were galloping back as +they had come, across the plain. + +Before he knew if it might be true, if he were not dreaming this +curious thing, the clear voice of his companion spoke in one word +again, like the single note of a deep bell. "Look!" he said, and +Miles swung about toward the ridge behind, following the pointing +finger. + +In the gray dawn the hill-top was clad with the still strength of +an army. Regiment after regiment, silent, motionless, it stretched +back into silver mist, and the mist rolled beyond, above, about +it; and through it he saw, as through rifts in broken gauze, lines +interminable of soldiers, glitter of steel. Miles, looking, knew. + +He never remembered how long he stood gazing, earth and time and +self forgotten, at a sight not meant for mortal eyes; but +suddenly, with a stab it came to him, that if the hosts of heaven +fought his battle it was that he might do his duty, might save +Captain Thornton and his men; he turned to speak to the young man +who had been with him. There was no one there. Over the bushes the +mountain breeze blew damp and cold; they rustled softly under its +touch; his horse stared at him mildly; away off at the foot-hills +he could see the diminishing dots of the fleeing Indian ponies; as +he wheeled again and looked, the hills that had been covered with +the glory of heavenly armies, lay hushed and empty. And his friend +was gone. + +Clatter of steel, jingle of harness, an order ringing out far but +clear--Miles threw up his head sharply and listened. In a second +he was pulling at his horse's girth, slipping the bit swiftly into +its mouth--in a moment more he was off: and away to meet them, as +a body of cavalry swung out of the valley where the ridge had +hidden them. + +"Captain Thornton's troop?" the officer repeated carelessly. "Why, +yes; they are here with us. We picked them up yesterday, headed +straight for Black Wolf's war-path. Mighty lucky we found them. +How about you--seen any Indians, have you?" + +Miles answered slowly: "A party of eight were on my trail; they +were riding for Massacre Mountain, where I camped, about an hour-- +about half an hour--awhile ago." He spoke vaguely, rather oddly, +the officer thought. "Something--stopped them about a hundred +yards from the mountain. They turned, and rode away." + +"Ah," said the officer. "They saw us down the valley." + +"I couldn't see you," said Miles. + +The officer smiled. "You're not an Indian, Lieutenant. Besides, +they were out on the plain and had a farther view behind the +ridge." And Miles answered not a word. + +General Miles Morgan, full of years and of honors, has never but +twice told the story of that night of forty years ago. But he +believes that when his time comes, and he goes to join the +majority, he will know again the presence which guarded him +through the blackness of it, and among the angel legions he looks +to find an angel, a messenger, who was his friend. + + + + + + +MARKHEIM + +BY + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +In one of the old Greek tragedies, after the actors on the stage +have played their parts and the chorus in the orchestra below has +hinted mysteriously of crime and retribution, the doors of the +palace in the background suddenly fly apart. There stands the +criminal queen. She confesses her crime and explains the reason +for it. So sometimes a story opens the doors of a character's +heart and mind, and invites us to look within. Such a story is +called psychological. Sometimes there is action, not for action's +sake, but for its revelation of character. Sometimes nothing +happens. "This," says Bliss Perry, "may be precisely what most +interests us, because we are made to understand what it is that +inhibits action." In the story of this type we see the moods of +the character; we watch motives appear, encounter other motives, +and retreat or advance. In short, we are allowed to observe the +man's mental processes until we understand him. + +The emotional value of this story may be stated in the words of C. +T. Winchester: + +"We may lay it down as a rule that those emotions which are +intimately related to the conduct of life are of higher rank than +those which are not; and that, consequently, the emotions highest +of all are those related to the deciding forces of life, the +affections, and the conscience." + + + + +MARKHEIM + +[Footnote: From "The Merry Men and Other Tales and Fables," by +Robert Louis Stevenson, published by Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + +"Yes," said the dealer, "our windfalls are of various kinds. Some +customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior +knowledge. Some are dishonest," and here he held up the candle, so +that the light fell strongly on his visitor, "and in that case," +he continued, "I profit by my virtue." + +Markheim had but just entered from the daylight streets, and his +eyes had not yet grown familiar with the mingled shine and +darkness in the shop. At these pointed words, and before the near +presence of the flame, he blinked painfully and looked aside. + +The dealer chuckled. "You come to me on Christmas Day," he +resumed, "when you know that I am alone in my house, put up my +shutters, and make a point of refusing business. Well, you will +have to pay for that; you will have to pay for my loss of time, +when I should be balancing my books; you will have to pay, +besides, for a kind of manner that I remark in you to-day very +strongly. I am the essence of discretion, and ask no awkward +questions; but when a customer cannot look me in the eye, he has +to pay for it." The dealer once more chuckled; and then, changing +to his usual business voice, though still with a note of irony, +"You can give, as usual, a clear account of how you came into the +possession of the object?" he continued. "Still your uncle's +cabinet? A remarkable collector, sir!" + +And the little pale, round-shouldered dealer stood almost on tip- +toe, looking over the top of his gold spectacles, and nodding his +head with every mark of disbelief. Markheim returned his gaze with +one of infinite pity, and a touch of horror. + +"This time," said he, "you are in error. I have not come to sell, +but to buy. I have no curios to dispose of; my uncle's cabinet is +bare to the wainscot; even were it still intact, I have done well +on the Stock Exchange, and should more likely add to it than +otherwise, and my errand to-day is simplicity itself. I seek a +Christmas present for a lady," he continued, waxing more fluent as +he struck into the speech he had prepared; "and certainly I owe +you every excuse for thus disturbing you upon so small a matter. +But the thing was neglected yesterday; I must produce my little +compliment at dinner; and, as you very well know, a rich marriage +is not a thing to be neglected." + +There followed a pause, during which the dealer seemed to weigh +this statement incredulously. The ticking of many clocks among the +curious lumber of the shop, and the faint rushing of the cabs in a +near thoroughfare, filled up the interval of silence. + +"Well, sir," said the dealer, "be it so. You are an old customer +after all; and if, as you say, you have the chance of a good +marriage, far be it from me to be an obstacle. Here is a nice +thing for a lady now," he went on, "this hand glass--fifteenth +century, warranted; comes from a good collection, too; but I +reserve the name, in the interests of my customer, who was just +like yourself, my dear sir, the nephew and sole heir of a +remarkable collector." + +The dealer, while he thus ran on in his dry and biting voice, had +stooped to take the object from its place; and, as he had done so, +a shock had passed through Markheim, a start both of hand and +foot, a sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the face. It +passed as swiftly as it came, and left no trace beyond a certain +trembling of the hand that now received the glass. + +"A glass," he said hoarsely, and then paused, and repeated it more +clearly. "A glass? For Christmas? Surely not?" + +"And why not?" cried the dealer. "Why not a glass?" + +Markheim was looking upon him with an indefinable expression. "You +ask me why not?" he said. "Why, look here--look in it--look at +yourself! Do you like to see it? No! nor I--nor any man." + +The little man had jumped back when Markheim had so suddenly +confronted him with the mirror; but now, perceiving there was +nothing worse on hand, he chuckled. "Your future lady, sir, must +be pretty hard favored," said he. + +"I ask you," said Markheim, "for a Christmas present, and you give +me this--this damned reminder of years, and sins, and follies-- +this hand-conscience! Did you mean it? Had you a thought in your +mind? Tell me. It will be better for you if you do. Come, tell me +about yourself. I hazard a guess now, that you are in secret a +very charitable man?" + +The dealer looked closely at his companion. It was very odd, +Markheim did not appear to be laughing; there was something in his +face like an eager sparkle of hope, but nothing of mirth. + +"What are you driving at?" the dealer asked. + +"Not charitable?" returned the other, gloomily. "Not charitable; +not pious; not scrupulous; unloving, unbeloved; a hand to get +money, a safe to keep it. Is that all? Dear God, man, is that +all?" + +"I will tell you what it is," began the dealer, with some +sharpness, and then broke off again into a chuckle. "But I see +this is a love match of yours, and you have been drinking the +lady's health." + +"Ah!" cried Markheim, with a strange curiosity. "Ah, have you been +in love! Tell me about that." + +"I," cried the dealer. "I in love! I never had the time, nor have +I the time to-day for all this nonsense. Will you take the glass?" + +"Where is the hurry?" returned Markheim. "It is very pleasant to +stand here talking; and life is so short and insecure that I would +not hurry away from any pleasure--no, not even from so mild a one +as this. We should rather cling, cling to what little we can get, +like a man at a cliff's edge. Every second is a cliff, if you +think upon it--a cliff a mile high--high enough, if we fall, to +dash us out of every feature of humanity. Hence it is best to talk +pleasantly. Let us talk of each other; why should we wear this +mask? Let us be confidential. Who knows, we might become friends?" + +"I have just one word to say to you," said the dealer. "Either +make your purchase, or walk out of my shop." + +"True, true," said Markheim. "Enough fooling. To business. Show me +something else." + +The dealer stooped once more, this time to replace the glass upon +the shelf, his thin blond hair falling over his eyes as he did so. +Markheim moved a little nearer, with one hand in the pocket of his +greatcoat; he drew himself up and filled his lungs--at the same +time many different emotions were depicted together on his face-- +terror, horror, and resolve, fascination and a physical repulsion; +and through a haggard lift of his upper lip, his teeth looked out. + +"This, perhaps, may suit," observed the dealer; and then, as he +began to re-arise, Markheim bounded from behind upon his victim. +The long, skewerlike dagger flashed and fell. The dealer struggled +like a hen, striking his temple on the shelf, and then tumbled on +the floor in a heap. + +Time had some score of small voices in that shop, some stately and +slow as was becoming to their great age; others garrulous and +hurried. All these told out the seconds in an intricate chorus of +tickings. Then the passage of a lad's feet, heavily running on the +pavement, broke in upon these smaller voices and startled Markheim +into the consciousness of his surroundings. He looked about him +awfully. The candle stood on the counter, its flame solemnly +wagging in a draught; and by that inconsiderable movement, the +whole room was filled with noiseless bustle and kept heaving like +a sea: the tall shadows nodding, the gross blots of darkness +swelling and dwindling as with respiration, the faces of the +portraits and the china gods changing and wavering like images in +water. The inner door stood ajar, and peered into that leaguer of +shadows with a long slit of daylight like a pointing finger. + +From these fear-stricken rovings, Markheim's eyes returned to the +body of his victim, where it lay both humped and sprawling, +incredibly small and strangely meaner than in life. In these poor, +miserly clothes, in that ungainly attitude, the dealer lay like so +much sawdust. Markheim had feared to see it, and, lo! it was +nothing. And yet, as he gazed, this bundle of old clothes and pool +of blood began to find eloquent voices. There it must lie; there +was none to work the cunning hinges or direct the miracle of +locomotion--there it must lie till it was found. Found! ay, and +then? Then would this dead flesh lift up a cry that would ring +over England, and fill the world with the echoes of pursuit. Ay, +dead or not, this was still the enemy. "Time was that when the +brains were out," he thought; and the first word struck into his +mind. Time, now that the deed was accomplished--time, which had +closed for the victim, had become instant and momentous for the +slayer. + +The thought was yet in his mind, when, first one and then another, +with every variety of pace and voice--one deep as the bell from a +cathedral turret, another ringing on its treble notes the prelude +of a waltz--the clocks began to strike the hour of three in the +afternoon. + +The sudden outbreak of so many tongues in that dumb chamber +staggered him. He began to bestir himself, going to and fro with +the candle, beleaguered by moving shadows, and startled to the +soul by chance reflections. In many rich mirrors, some of home +designs, some from Venice or Amsterdam, he saw his face repeated +and repeated, as it were an army of spies; his own eyes met and +detected him; and the sound of his own steps, lightly as they +fell, vexed the surrounding quiet. And still as he continued to +fill his pockets, his mind accused him, with a sickening +iteration, of the thousand faults of his design. He should have +chosen a more quiet hour; he should have prepared an alibi; he +should not have used a knife; he should have been more cautious, +and only bound and gagged the dealer, and not killed him; he +should have been more bold, and killed the servant also; he should +have done all things otherwise; poignant regrets, weary, incessant +toiling of the mind to change what was unchangeable, to plan what +was now useless, to be the architect of the irrevocable past. +Meanwhile, and behind all this activity, brute terrors, like the +scurrying of rats in a deserted attic, filled the more remote +chambers of his brain with riot; the hand of the constable would +fall heavy on his shoulder, and his nerves would jerk like a +hooked fish; or he beheld, in galloping defile, the dock, the +prison, the gallows, and the black coffin. + +Terror of the people in the street sat down before his mind like a +besieging army. It was impossible, he thought, but that some rumor +of the struggle must have reached their ears and set on edge their +curiosity; and now, in all the neighboring houses, he divined them +sitting motionless: and with uplifted ear--solitary people, +condemned to spend Christmas dwelling alone on memories of the +past, and now startlingly recalled from that tender exercise; +happy family parties, struck into silence round the table, the +mother still with raised finger: every degree and age and humor, +but all, by their own hearts, prying and hearkening and weaving +the rope that was to hang him. Sometimes it seemed to him he could +not move too softly; the clink of the tall Bohemian goblets rang +out loudly like a bell; and alarmed by the bigness of the ticking, +he was tempted to stop the clocks. And then, again, with a swift +transition of his terrors, the very silence of the place appeared +a source of peril, and a thing to strike and freeze the passer-by; +and he would step more boldly, and bustle aloud among the contents +of the shop, and imitate, with elaborate bravado, the movements of +a busy man at ease in his own house. + +But he was now so pulled about by different alarms that, while one +portion of his mind was still alert and cunning, another trembled +on the brink of lunacy. One hallucination in particular took a +strong hold on his credulity. The neighbor hearkening with white +face beside his window, the passer-by arrested by a horrible +surmise on the pavement--these could at worst suspect, they could +not know; through the brick walls and shuttered windows only +sounds could penetrate. But here, within the house, was he alone? +He knew he was; he had watched the servant set forth +sweethearting, in her poor best, "out for the day" written in +every ribbon and smile. Yes, he was alone, of course; and yet, in +the bulk of empty house above him, he could surely hear a stir of +delicate footing--he was surely conscious, inexplicably conscious +of some presence. Ay, surely; to every room and corner of the +house his imagination followed it; and now it was a faceless +thing, and yet had eyes to see with; and again it was a shadow of +himself; and yet again behold the image of the dead dealer, +reinspired with cunning and hatred. + +At times, with a strong effort, he would glance at the open door +which still seemed to repel his eyes. The house was tall, the +skylight small and dirty, the day blind with fog; and the light +that filtered down to the ground story was exceedingly faint, and +showed dimly on the threshold of the shop. And yet, in that strip +of doubtful brightness, did there not hang wavering a shadow? + +Suddenly, from the street outside, a very jovial gentleman began +to beat with a staff on the shop-door, accompanying his blows with +shouts and railleries in which the dealer was continually called +upon by name. Markheim, smitten into ice, glanced at the dead man. +But no! he lay quite still; he was fled away far beyond earshot of +these blows and shoutings; he was sunk beneath seas of silence; +and his name, which would once have caught his notice above the +howling of a storm, had become an empty sound. And presently the +jovial gentleman desisted from his knocking and departed. + +Here was a broad hint to hurry what remained to be done, to get +forth from this accusing neighborhood, to plunge into a bath of +London multitudes, and to reach, on the other side of day, that +haven of safety and apparent innocence--his bed. One visitor had +come: at any moment another might follow and be more obstinate. To +have done the deed, and yet not to reap the profit, would be too +abhorrent a failure. The money, that was now Markheim's concern; +and as a means to that, the keys. + +He glanced over his shoulder at the open door, where the shadow +was still lingering and shivering; and with no conscious +repugnance of the mind, yet with a tremor of the belly, he drew +near the body of his victim. The human character had quite +departed. Like a suit half-stuffed with bran, the limbs lay +scattered, the trunk doubled, on the floor; and yet the thing +repelled him. Although so dingy and inconsiderable to the eye, he +feared it might have more significance to the touch. He took the +body by the shoulders, and turned it on its back. It was strangely +light and supple, and the limbs, as if they had been broken, fell +into the oddest postures. The face was robbed of all expression; +but it was as pale as wax, and shockingly smeared with blood about +one temple. That was, for Markheim, the one displeasing +circumstance. It carried him back, upon the instant, to a certain +day in a fishers' village: a gray day, a piping wind, a crowd upon +the street, the blare of brasses, the booming of drums, the nasal +voice of a ballad singer; and a boy going to and fro, buried over +head in the crowd and divided between interest and fear, until, +coming out upon the chief place of concourse, he beheld a booth +and a great screen with pictures, dismally designed, garishly +colored: Brownrigg with her apprentice; the Mannings with their +murdered guest; Weare in the death-grip of Thurtell; and a score +besides of famous crimes. The thing was as clear as an illusion; +he was once again that little boy; he was looking once again, and +with the same sense of physical revolt, at these vile pictures; he +was still stunned by the thumping of the drums. A bar of that +day's music returned upon his memory; and at that, for the first +time, a qualm came over him, a breath of nausea, a sudden weakness +of the joints, which he must instantly resist and conquer. + +He judged it more prudent to confront than to flee from these +considerations; looking the more hardily in the dead face, bending +his mind to realize the nature and greatness of his crime. So +little a while ago that face had moved with every change of +sentiment, that pale mouth had spoken, that body had been all on +fire with governable energies; and now, and by his act, that piece +of life had been arrested, as the horologist, with interjected +finger, arrests the beating of the clock. So he reasoned in vain; +he could rise to no more remorseful consciousness; the same heart +which had shuddered before the painted effigies of crime, looked +on its reality unmoved. At best, he felt a gleam of pity for one +who had been endowed in vain with all those faculties that can +make the world a garden of enchantment, one who had never lived +and who was now dead. But of penitence, no, not a tremor. + +With that, shaking himself clear of these considerations, he found +the keys and advanced towards the open door of the shop. Outside, +it had begun to rain smartly; and the sound of the shower upon the +roof had banished silence. Like some dripping cavern, the chambers +of the house were haunted by an incessant echoing, which filled +the ear and mingled with the ticking of the clocks. And, as +Markheim approached the door, he seemed to hear, in answer to his +own cautious tread, the steps of another foot withdrawing up the +stair. The shadow still palpitated loosely on the threshold. He +threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles, and drew back +the door. + +The faint, foggy daylight glimmered dimly on the bare floor and +stairs; on the bright suit of armor posted, halbert in hand, upon +the landing; and on the dark wood-carvings, and framed pictures +that hung against the yellow panels of the wainscot. So loud was +the beating of the rain through all the house that, in Markheim's +ears, it began to be distinguished into many different sounds. +Footsteps and sighs, the tread of regiments marching in the +distance, the chink of money in the counting, and the creaking of +doors held stealthily ajar, appeared to mingle with the patter of +the drops upon the cupola and the gushing of the water in the +pipes. The sense that he was not alone grew upon him to the verge +of madness. On every side he was haunted and begirt by presences. +He heard them moving in the upper chambers; from the shop, he +heard the dead man getting to his legs; and as he began with a +great effort to mount the stairs, feet fled quietly before him and +followed stealthily behind. If he were but deaf, he thought, how +tranquilly he would possess his soul! And then again, and +hearkening with ever fresh attention, he blessed himself for that +unresting sense which held the outposts and stood a trusty +sentinel upon his life. His head turned continually on his neck; +his eyes, which seemed starting from their orbits, scouted on +every side, and on every side were half-rewarded as with the tail +of something nameless vanishing. The four-and-twenty steps to the +first floor were four-and-twenty agonies. + +On that first story, the doors stood ajar, three of them like +three ambushes, shaking his nerves like the throats of cannon. He +could never again, he felt, be sufficiently immured and fortified +from men's observing eyes; he longed to be home, girt in by walls, +buried among bedclothes, and invisible to all but God. And at that +thought he wondered a little, recollecting tales of other +murderers and the fear they were said to entertain of heavenly +avengers. It was not so, at least, with, him. He feared the laws +of nature, lest, in their callous and immutable procedure, they +should preserve some damning evidence of his crime. He feared +tenfold more, with a slavish, superstitious terror, some scission +in the continuity of man's experience, some wilful illegality of +nature. He played a game of skill, depending on the rules, +calculating consequence from cause; and what if nature, as the +defeated tyrant overthrew the chessboard, should break the mould +of their succession? The like had befallen Napoleon (so writers +said) when the winter changed the time of its appearance. The like +might befall Markheim: the solid walls might become transparent +and reveal his doings like those of bees in a glass hive; the +stout planks might yield under his foot like quicksands and detain +him in their clutch; ay, and there were soberer accidents that +might destroy him: if, for instance, the house should fall and +imprison him beside the body of his victim; or the house next door +should fly on fire, and the firemen invade him from all sides. +These things he feared; and, in a sense, these things might be +called the hands of God reached forth against sin. But about God +himself he was at ease; his act was doubtless exceptional, but so +were his excuses, which God knew; it was there, and not among men, +that he felt sure of justice. + +When he had got safe into the drawing room, and shut the door +behind him, he was aware of a respite from alarms. The room was +quite dismantled, uncarpeted besides, and strewn with packing +cases and incongruous furniture; several great pier glasses, in +which he beheld himself at various angles, like an actor on a +stage; many pictures, framed and unframed, standing, with their +faces to the wall; a fine Sheraton sideboard, a cabinet of +marquetry, and a great old bed, with tapestry hangings. The +windows opened to the floor; but by great good fortune the lower +part of the shutters had been closed, and this concealed him from +the neighbors. Here, then, Markheim drew in a packing case before +the cabinet, and began to search among the keys. It was a long +business, for there were many; and it was irksome, besides; for, +after all, there might be nothing in the cabinet, and time was on +the wing. But the closeness of the occupation sobered him. With +the tail of his eye he saw the door--even glanced at it from time +to time directly, like a besieged commander pleased to verify the +good estate of his defences. But in truth he was at peace. The +rain falling in the street sounded natural and pleasant. +Presently, on the other side, the notes of a piano were wakened to +the music of a hymn, and the voices of many children took up the +air and words. How stately, how comfortable was the melody! How +fresh the youthful voices! Markheim gave ear to it smilingly, as +he sorted out the keys; and his mind was thronged with answerable +ideas and images; church-going children and the pealing of the +high organ; children afield, bathers by the brookside, ramblers on +the brambly common, kite fliers in the windy and cloud navigated +sky; and then, at another cadence of the hymn, back again to +church, and the somnolence of summer Sundays, and the high genteel +voice of the parson (which he smiled a little to recall) and the +painted Jacobean tombs, and the dim lettering of the Ten +Commandments in the chancel. + +And as he sat thus, at once busy and absent, he was startled to +his feet. A flash of ice, a flash of fire, a bursting gush of +blood, went over him, and then he stood transfixed and thrilling. +A step mounted the stair slowly and steadily, and presently a hand +was laid upon the knob, and the lock clicked, and the door opened. +Fear held Markheim in a vice. What to expect he knew not, whether +the dead man walking, or the official ministers of human justice, +or some chance witness blindly stumbling in to consign him to the +gallows. But when a face was thrust into the aperture, glanced +round the room, looked at him, nodded and smiled as if in friendly +recognition, and then withdrew again, and the door closed behind +it, his fear broke loose from his control in a hoarse cry. At the +sound of this the visitant returned. + +"Did you call me?" he asked, pleasantly, and with that he entered +the room and closed the door behind him. + +Markheim stood and gazed at him with all his eyes. Perhaps there +was a film upon his sight, but the outlines of the newcomer seemed +to change and waver like those of the idols in the wavering +candlelight of the shop; and at times he thought he knew him; and +at times he thought he bore a likeness to himself; and always, +like a lump of living terror, there lay in his bosom the +conviction that this thing was not of the earth and not of God. + +And yet the creature had a strange air of the commonplace, as he +stood looking on Markheim with a smile; and when he added: "You +are looking for the money, I believe?" it was in the tones of +everyday politeness. + +Markheim made no answer. + +"I should warn you," resumed the other, "that the maid has left +her sweetheart earlier than usual and will soon be here. If Mr. +Markheim be found in this house, I need not describe to him the +consequences." + +"You know me?" cried the murderer. + +The visitor smiled. "You have long been a favorite of mine," he +said; "and I have long observed and often sought to help you." + +"What are you?" cried Markheim: "the devil?" + +"What I may be," returned the other, "cannot affect the service I +propose to render you." + +"It can," cried Markheim; "it does! Be helped by you? No, never; +not by you! You do not know me yet; thank God, you do not know +me!" + +"I know you," replied the visitant, with a sort of kind severity +or rather firmness. "I know you to the soul." + +"Know me!" cried Markheim. "Who can do so? My life is but a +travesty and slander on myself. I have lived to belie my nature. +All men do; all men are better than this disguise that grows about +and stifles them. You see each dragged away by life, like one whom +bravos have seized and muffled in a cloak. If they had their own +control--if you could see their faces, they would be altogether +different, they would shine out for heroes and saints! I am worse +than most; my self is more overlaid; my excuse is known to me and +God. But, had I the time, I could disclose myself." + +"To me?" inquired the visitant. + +"To you before all," returned the murderer. "I supposed you were +intelligent. I thought--since you exist--you would prove a reader +of the heart. And yet you would propose to judge me by my acts! +Think of it; my acts! I was born and I have lived in a land of +giants; giants have dragged me by the wrists since I was born out +of my mother--the giants of circumstance. And you would judge me +by my acts! But can you not look within? Can you not understand +that evil is hateful to me? Can you not see within me the clear +writing of conscience, never blurred by any wilful sophistry, +although too often disregarded? Can you not read me for a thing +that surely must be common as humanity--the unwilling sinner?" + +"All this is very feelingly expressed," was the reply, "but it +regards me not. These points of consistency are beyond my +province, and I care not in the least by what compulsion you may +have been dragged away, so as you are but carried in the right +direction. But time flies; the servant delays, looking in the +faces of the crowd and at the pictures on the hoardings, but still +she keeps moving nearer; and remember, it is as if the gallows +itself was striding towards you through the Christmas streets! +Shall I help you; I, who know all? Shall I tell you where to find +the money?" + +"For what price?" asked Markheim. + +"I offer you the service for a Christmas gift," returned the +other. + +Markheim could not refrain from smiling with a kind of bitter +triumph. "No," said he, "I will take nothing at your hands; if I +were dying of thirst, and it was your hand that put the pitcher to +my lips, I should find the courage to refuse. It may be credulous, +but I will do nothing to commit myself to evil." + +"I have no objection to a deathbed repentance," observed the +visitant. + +"Because you disbelieve their efficacy!" Markheim cried. + +"I do not say so," returned the other; "but I look on these things +from a different side, and when the life is done my interest +falls. The man has lived to serve me, to spread black looks under +color of religion, or to sow tares in the wheat field, as you do, +in a course of weak compliance with desire. Now that he draws so +near to his deliverance, he can add but one act of service--to +repent, to die smiling, and thus to build up in confidence and +hope the more timorous of my surviving followers. I am not so hard +a master. Try me. Accept my help. Please yourself in life as you +have done hitherto; please yourself more amply, spread your elbows +at the board; and when the night begins to fall and the curtains +to be drawn, I tell you, for your greater comfort, that you will +find it even easy to compound your quarrel with your conscience, +and to make a truckling peace with God. I came but now from such a +deathbed, and the room was full of sincere mourners, listening to +the man's last words: and when I looked into that face, which had +been set as a flint against mercy, I found it smiling with hope." + +"And do you, then, suppose me such a creature?" asked Markheim. +"Do you think I have no more generous aspirations than to sin, and +sin, and sin, and, at last, sneak into heaven? My heart rises at +the thought. Is this, then, your experience of mankind? or is it +because you find me with red hands that you presume such baseness? +and is this crime of murder indeed so impious as to dry up the +very springs of good?" + +"Murder is to me no special category," replied the other. "All +sins are murder, even as all life is war. I behold your race, like +starving mariners on a raft, plucking crusts out of the hands of +famine and feeding on each other's lives. I follow sins beyond the +moment of their acting; I find in all that the last consequence is +death; and to my eyes, the pretty maid who thwarts her mother with +such taking graces on a question of a ball, drips no less visibly +with human gore than such a murderer as yourself. Do I say that I +follow sins? I follow virtues also; they differ not by the +thickness of a nail, they are both scythes for the reaping angel +of Death. Evil, for which I live, consists not in action but in +character. The bad man is dear to me; not the bad act, whose +fruits, if we could follow them far enough down the hurtling +cataract of the ages, might yet be found more blessed than those +of the rarest virtues. And it is not because you have killed a +dealer, but because you are Markheim, that I offered to forward +your escape." + +"I will lay my heart open to you," answered Markheim. "This crime +on which you find me is my last. On my way to it I have learned +many lessons; itself is a lesson, a momentous lesson. Hitherto I +have been driven with revolt to what I would not; I was a +bondslave to poverty, driven and scourged. There are robust +virtues that can stand in these temptations; mine was not so: I +had a thirst of pleasure. But today, and out of this deed, I pluck +both warning and riches--both the power and a fresh resolve to be +myself. I become in all things a free actor in the world; I begin +to see myself all changed, these hands the agents of good, this +heart at peace. Something comes over me out of the past; something +of what I have dreamed on Sabbath evenings to the sound of the +church organ, of what I forecast when I shed tears over noble +books, or talked, an innocent child, with my mother. There lies my +life; I have wandered a few years, but now I see once more my city +of destination." + +"You are to use this money on the Stock Exchange, I think?" +remarked the visitor; "and there, if I mistake not, you have +already lost some thousands?" + +"Ah," said Markheim, "but this time I have a sure thing." + +"This time, again, you will lose," replied the visitor quietly. + +"Ah, but I keep back the half!" cried Markheim. + +"That also you will lose," said the other. + +The sweat started upon Markheim's brow. "Well, then, what matter?" +he exclaimed. "Say it be lost, say I am plunged again in poverty, +shall one part of me, and that the worst, continue until the end +to override the better? Evil and good run strong in me, haling me +both ways. I do not love the one thing, I love all. I can conceive +great deeds, renunciations, martyrdoms; and though I be fallen to +such a crime as murder, pity is no stranger to my thoughts. I pity +the poor; who knows their trials better than myself? I pity and +help them; I prize love, I love honest laughter; there is no good +thing nor true thing on earth but I love it from my heart. And are +my vices only to direct my life, and my virtues to lie without +effect, like some passive lumber of the mind? Not so; good, also, +is a spring of acts." + +But the visitant raised his finger. "For six-and-thirty years that +you have been in this world," said he, "through many changes of +fortune and varieties of humor, I have watched you steadily fall. +Fifteen years ago you would have started at a theft. Three years +back you would have blenched at the name of murder. Is there any +crime, is there any cruelty or meanness, from which you still +recoil?--five years from now I shall detect you in the fact! +Downward, downward, lies your way; nor can anything but death +avail to stop you." + +"It is true," Markheim said huskily, "I have in some degree +complied with evil. But it is so with all: the very saints, in the +mere exercise of living, grow less dainty, and take on the tone of +their surroundings." + +"I will propound to you one simple question," said the other; "and +as you answer, I shall read to you your moral horoscope. You have +grown in many things more lax; possibly you do right to be so; and +at any account, it is the same with all men. But granting that, +are you in any one particular, however trifling, more difficult to +please with your own conduct, or do you go in all things with a +looser rein?" + +"In any one?" repeated Markheim, with an anguish of consideration. +"No," he added, with despair, "in none! I have gone down in all." + +"Then," said the visitor, "content yourself with what you are, for +you will never change; and the words of your part on this stage +are irrevocably written down." + +Markheim stood for a long while silent, and indeed it was the +visitor who first broke the silence. "That being so," he said, +"shall I show you the money?" + +"And grace?" cried Markheim. + +"Have you not tried it?" returned the other. "Two or three years +ago, did I not see you on the platform of revival meetings, and +was not your voice the loudest in the hymn?" + +"It is true," said Markheim; "and I see clearly what remains for +me by way of duty. I thank you for these lessons from my soul; my +eyes are opened, and I behold myself at last for what I am." + +At this moment, the sharp note of the doorbell rang through the +house; and the visitant, as though this were some concerted signal +for which he had been waiting, changed at once in his demeanor. + +"The maid!" he cried. "She has returned, as I forewarned you, and +there is now before you one more difficult passage. Her master, +you must say, is ill; you must let her in, with an assured but +rather serious countenance--no smiles, no overacting, and I +promise you success! Once the girl within, and the door closed, +the same dexterity that has already rid you of the dealer will +relieve you of this last danger in your path. Thenceforward you +have the whole evening--the whole night, if needful--to ransack +the treasures of the house and to make good your safety. This is +help that comes to you with the mask of danger. Up!" he cried: +"up, friend; your life hangs trembling in the scales: up, and +act!" + +Markheim steadily regarded his counsellor. "If I be condemned to +evil acts," he said, "there is still one door of freedom open--I +can cease from action. If my life be an ill thing, I can lay it +down. Though I be, as you say truly, at the beck of every small +temptation, I can yet, by one decisive gesture, place myself +beyond the reach of all. My love of good is damned to barrenness; +it may, and let it be! But I have still my hatred of evil; and +from that, to your galling disappointment, you shall see that I +can draw both energy and courage." + +The features of the visitor began to undergo a wonderful and +lovely change: they brightened and softened with a tender triumph; +and, even as they brightened, faded and dislimned. But Markheim +did not pause to watch or understand the transformation. He opened +the door and went downstairs very slowly, thinking to himself. His +past went soberly before him; he beheld it as it was, ugly and +strenuous like a dream, random as chance-medley--a scene of +defeat. Life, as he thus reviewed it, tempted him no longer; but +on the further side he perceived a quiet haven for his bark. He +paused in the passage, and looked into the shop, where the candle +still burned by the dead body. It was strangely silent. Thoughts +of the dealer swarmed into his mind, as he stood gazing. And then +the bell once more broke out into impatient clamor. + +He confronted the maid upon the threshold with something like a +smile. + +"You had better go for the police," said he: "I have killed your +master." + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Short Stories for English Courses +by Various (Rosa M. R. Mikels ed.) + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHORT STORIES *** + +This file should be named 5403.txt or 5403.zip + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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