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Settlement wasn't nothin' but a baby in them days, fer I mind 'at old
Ezry Sturgiss had jist got his saw and griss-mill a-goin', and Bills
had come along and claimed to know all about millin', and got a job
with him; and millers in them times was wanted worse'n congerssmen, and
I reckon got better wages; fer afore Ezry built, there wasn't a dust o'
meal er flour to be had short o' the White Water, better'n sixty mil'd
from here, the way we had to fetch it. And they used to come to Ezry's
fer their grindin' as fur as that; and one feller I knowed to come from
what used to be the old South Fork, over eighty mil'd from here, and in
the wettest, rainyest weather; and mud! _Law! _
time a-grindin', and part the time a-lookin' after the sawin', and
gittin' out timber and the like. Bills was a queer-lookin' feller,
shore! About as tall a build man as Tom Carter -- but of course you don't
know nothin' o' Tom Carter. A great big hulk of a feller, Tom was; and
as fur back as Fifty-eight used to make his brags that he could cut and
putt up his seven cord a day.
a great big ugly scar a-runnin' from the corner o' one eye clean down
his face and neck, and I don't know how fur down his breast -- awful
lookin'; and he never shaved, and there wasn't a hair a-growin' in that
scar, and it looked like a -- some kind o' pizen snake er somepin'
a-crawlin' in the grass and weeds. I never seed sich a' out-and-out
ornry-lookin' chap, and I'll never fergit the first time I set eyes on
him.
now fer, le' me see, -- well, anyways, I rickon, over thirty year. -- Steve
was a-drivin' the team at the time -- I allus let Steve drive; 'peared
like Steve was made a-purpose fer hosses. The beatin'est hand with
hosses 'at ever you _did_ see and-I-know! W'y, a hoss, after he got
kindo' used to Steve a-handlin' of him, would do anything fer _him_!
And I've knowed that boy to swap fer hosses 'at couldn't hardly make a
shadder; and, afore you knowed it, Steve would have 'em a-cavortin'
around a-lookin' as peert and fat and slick!
wanted to price some lumber fer a house, intendin' to marry that
Fall -- and would a-married, I reckon, ef the girl hadn't a-died jist as
she'd got her weddin' clothes done -- and that set hard on Steve fer a
while. Yit he rallied, you know, as a youngster will; but he never
married, someway -- never married. Reckon he never found no other woman
he could love well enough -- 'less it was -- well, no odds. -- The Good
Bein's jedge o' what's best fer each and all.
didn't think nothin' of it, tel at last he says, says he, "Ben, I want
you to kindo' keep an eye out fer Ezry's new hand" -- meanin' Bills. And
then I kindo' suspicioned somepin' o' nother was up betwixt 'em; and
shore enough there was, as I found out afore the day was over.
wife, and a little baby on'y a few months old, come through in a
kivvered wagon with a fambly a-goin' som'ers in The Illinoy; and they
stopped at the mill, fer some meal er somepin', and Bills got to
talkin' with Ezry 'bout millin', and one thing o' nother, and said he
was expeerenced some 'bout a mill hisse'f, and told Ezry ef he'd give
him work he'd stop; said his wife and baby wasn't strong enough to
stand trav'lin', and ef Ezry'd give him work he was ready to lick into
it then and there; said his woman could pay her board by sewin' and the
like, tel they got ahead a little; and then, ef he liked the
neighberhood, he said he'd as lif settle there as anywheres; he was
huntin' a home, he said, and the outlook kindo' struck him, and his
woman railly needed rest, and wasn't strong enough to go much furder.
And old Ezry kindo' tuk pity on the feller; and havin' house-room to
spare, and railly in need of a good hand at the mill, he said all
right; and so the feller stopped and the wagon druv ahead and left 'em;
and they didn't have no things ner nothin' -- not even a cyarpet-satchel,
ner a stitch o' clothes, on'y what they had on their backs. And I think
it was the third er fourth day after Bills stopped 'at he whirped Tomps
Burk, the bully o' here them days, tel you wouldn't a-knowed him!
was a bad stick, and the place wasn't none the better fer his bein'
here. But, as I was a-goin' on to say, -- as Steve and me driv up to the
mill, I ketched sight o' Bills the first thing, a-lookin' out o' where
some boards was knocked off, jist over the worter-wheel; and he knowed
Steve -- I could see that by his face; and he hollered somepin', too, but
what it was I couldn't jist make out, fer the noise o' the wheel; but
he looked to me as ef he'd hollered somepin' mean a-purpose so's Steve
_wouldn't_ hear it, and _he'd_ have the consolation o' knowin' 'at he'd
called Steve some ornry name 'thout givin' him a _chance_ to take it
up. Steve was allus quiet-like, but ef you raised his dander onc't -- and
you could do that 'thout much trouble, callin' him names er somepin',
particular' anything 'bout his mother. Steve loved his mother -- allus
loved his mother, and would fight fer her at the drap o' the hat. And
he was her favo-_rite_ -- allus a-talkin' o' "her boy, Steven," as she
used to call him, and so proud of him, and so keerful of him allus,
when he'd be sick or anything; nuss him like a baby, she would.
dinners -- lived so fur away, you know. The two Smith boys lived on what
used to be the old Warrick farm, five er six mild, anyhow, from where
the mill stood. Great stout fellers, they was; and little Jake, the
father of 'em, wasn't no man at all -- not much bigger'n you, I rickon.
Le' me see, now: -- There was Tomps Burk, Wade Elwood, and Joe and Ben
Carter; and Wesley Morris, John Coke -- wiry little cuss, he was, afore
he got his leg sawed off; -- and Ezry, and -- Well, I don't jist mind _all_
the boys -- 's a long time ago, and I never was much of a hand fer
names. -- Now, some folks'll hear a name and never fergit it, but I can't
boast of a good rickollection, 'specially o' names; and fer the last
thirty year my mem'ry's be'n a-failin' me, ever sence a spell o' fever
'at I brought on onc't -- fever and rheumatiz together: -- You see, I went
a-sainin' with a passel o' the boys, fool-like, and let my clothes
freeze on me a-comin' home. W'y, my breeches was like stove-pipes when
I pulled 'em off. 'Ll, ef I didn't pay fer _that_ spree! Rheumatiz got
a holt o' me and helt me there flat o' my back fer eight weeks, and
couldn't move hand er foot 'thout a-hollerin' like a' Injun. And I'd
a-be'n there yit, I rickon, ef it hadn't a-be'n fer a' old hoss-doctor,
name o' Jones; and he gits a lot o' sod and steeps it in hot whiskey
and pops it on me, -- and I'll be-switched-to-death ef it didn't cuore me
up, fer all I laughed and told him I'd better take the whiskey
in'ardly and let him keep the grass fer his doctor bill. But that's
nuther here ner there! -- As I was a-sayin' 'bout the mill: As I went in,
the boys had stopped work and was a-gittin' down their dinners, and
Bills amongst 'em, and old Ezry a-chattin' away -- great hand, he was,
fer his joke, and allus a-cuttin' up and a-gittin' off his
odd-come-shorts on the boys. And that day he was in particular good
humor.
drinkin' a little hisse'f, enough to feel it. He didn't drink
much -- that is to say, he didn't git drunk adzactly; but he tuk his
dram, you understand. You see, they made their own whiskey in them
days, and it wasn't nothin' like the bilin' stuff you git now. Old Ezry
had a little still, and allus made his own whiskey, enough fer fambly
use, and jist as puore as worter, and as harmless. But now-a-days the
liquor you git's rank pizen. They say they putt tobacker in it, and
strychnine, and the Lord knows what; ner I never knowed why, 'less it
was to give it a richer-lookin' flavor, like. Well, Ezry he'd brought
up a jug, and the boys had be'n a-takin' it purty free; I seed that as
quick as I went in. And old Ezry called out to _me_ to come and take
some, the first thing. Told him I didn't b'lieve I keered about it; but
nothin' would do but I must take a drink with the boys; and I was tired
anyhow and I thought a little wouldn't hurt; so I takes a swig; and as
I set the jug down _Bills_ spoke up and says, "You're a stranger to me,
and I'm a stranger to you, but I rickon we can drink to our better
acquaintance," -- er somepin' to that amount, and poured out another
snifter in a gourd he'd be'n a-drinkin' coffee in, and handed it to me.
Well, I couldn't well refuse, of course; so I says "Here's to us," and
drunk her down -- mighty nigh a half pint, I rickon. Now, I railly didn't
want it, but, as I tell you, I was obleeged to take it, and I downed
her at a swaller and never batted an eye, fer, to tell the fact about
it, I liked the taste o' liquor; and I do _yit_, on'y I know when I'
got enough. Jist then I didn't want to drink on account o' Steve. Steve
couldn't abide liquor in no shape ner form -- fer medicine ner nothin',
and I've allus thought it was his mother's doin's.
a-tellin' Ezry what they was a-astin' fer their liquor there -- fer I'd
fetched a couple o' gallon home with me 'at I'd paid six bits fer, and
pore liquor at that: And I was a-tellin' about it, and old Ezry was
a-sayin' what an oudacious figger that was, and how he could make money
a-sellin' it fer half that price, and was a-goin' on a-braggin' about
his liquor -- and it was a good article -- fer new whiskey, -- and jist then
Steve comes in, jist as Bills was a-sayin' 'at a man 'at wouldn't drink
_that_ whiskey wasn't no man at all! So, of course, when they ast
_Steve_ to take some and he told 'em no, 'at he was much obleeged,
Bills was kindo' tuk down, you understand, and had to say somepin'; and
says he, "I reckon you ain't no better'n the rest of us, and _we've_
be'n a-drinkin' of it. " But Steve didn't let on like he noticed Bills
at all, and retch and shuk hands with the other boys and ast how they
was all a-comin' on.
enough, he went on to say, kindo snarlin'-like, 'at "he'd knowed o' men
in his day 'at had be'n licked fer refusin' to drink when their betters
ast em"; and said furder 'at "a lickin' wasn't none too good fer
anybody 'at would refuse liquor like that o' Ezry's, and in his own
house too" -- er _buildin'_, ruther. Ezry shuk his head at him, but I
seed 'at Bills was bound fer a quarrel, and I winks at Steve, as much
as to say, "Don't you let him bully you; you'll find your brother here
to see you have fair play! " _I_ was a-feelin' my oats some about then,
and Steve seed I was, and looked so sorry-like, and like his mother,
'at I jist thought, "I _kin_ fight fer _you_, and _die_ fer you, 'cause
you're wuth it! " -- And I didn't someway feel like it would amount to
much ef I _did_ die er git killed er somepin' on _his_ account. I seed
Steve was mighty white around the mouth, and his eyes was a-glitterin'
like a snake's; yit Bills didn't seem to take warnin', but went on to
say 'at "he'd knowed boys 'at loved their mothers so well they couldn't
drink nothin' stronger'n milk. " -- And then you'd ort o' seed Steve's
coat fly off, jist like it wanted to git out of his way and give the
boy room accordin' to his stren'th. I seed Bills grab a piece o'
scantlin' jist in time to ketch his arm as he struck at Steve, -- for
Steve was a-comin' fer him dangerss. But they'd ketched Steve from
behind jist then; and Bills turned fer me. I seed him draw back, and I
seed Steve a-scufflin' to ketch his arm; but he didn't reach it quite
in time to do me no good.
rickollect was a roarin' and a buzzin' in my ears, and when I kindo'
come a little better to, and crawled up and peeked over the saw-log I
was a-layin' the other side of, I seed a couple clinched and a-rollin'
over and over and a-makin' the chips and saw-dust fly, now I _tell_
you! Bills and Steve it was -- head and tail, tooth and toe-nail, and
a-bleedin' like good fellers! I seed a gash o' some kind in Bills's
head, and Steve was purty well tuckered and a-pantin' like a lizard;
and I made a rush in, and one o' the Carter boys grabbed me and told me
to jist keep cool -- 'at _Steve_ didn't need no he'p, and they might need
me to keep Bills's friends off ef _they_ made a rush. By this time
Steve had whirlt Bills, and was a-jist a-gittin' in a fair way to
finish him up in good style, when Wesley Morris run in -- I seed him do
it -- run in, and afore we could ketch him he struck Steve a deadener in
the butt o' the ear and knocked him as limber as a rag. And then Bills
whirlt Steve and got him by the th'oat, and Ben Carter and me and old
Ezry closed in. -- Carter tackled Morris, and Ezry and me grabs
Bills -- and as old Ezry grabbed him to pull him off, Bills kindo' give
him a side swipe o' some kind and knocked him -- I don't know _how_ fur!
And jist then Carter and Morris come a-scufflin' back'ards right
amongst us, and Carter th'owed him right acrost Bills and Steve. Well,
it ain't fair, and I don't like to tell it, but I seed it was the last
chance and I tuk advantage of it: -- As Wesley and Ben fell it pulled
Bills down in a kindo' twist, don't you understand, so's he couldn't
he'p hisse'f, yit still a-clinchin' Steve by the th'oat, and him black
in the face.
not bigger'n my two thumbs, and I struck Bills a little tap kindo' over
the back of his head like, and, blame me! ef he didn't keel over like a
stuck pig -- and not any too soon, nuther, -- fer he had Steve's chunk as
nigh putt out as you ever seed a man's, to come to agin. But he was up
th'reckly and ready to a-went at it ef Bills could a-come to the
scratch; but Mister Bills he wasn't in no fix to try it over! After
a-waitin' a while fer him to come to, and him not a-comin' to, we
concluded 'at we'd better he'p him, maybe. And we worked with him, and
warshed him, and drenched him with whiskey, but it 'peared like it
wasn't no use. -- He jist laid there with his eyes about half shet, and
a-breathin' like a hoss when he's bad sceart; and I'll be dad-limbed ef
I don't believe he'd a-_died_ on our hands ef it hadn't a-happened old
Doc Zions come a-ridin' past on his way home from the Murdock
neighberhood, where they was a-havin' sich a time with the milk-sick.
And he examined Bills, and had him laid on a plank and carried down to
the house -- 'bout a mil'd, I reckon, from the mill. Looked kindo'
cur'ous to see Steve a-he'ppin' pack the feller, after his nearly
chokin' him to death. Oh, it was a bloody fight, I tell you! W'y, they
wasn't a man in the mill 'at didn't have a black eye er somepin'; and
old Ezry, where Bills hit him, had his nose broke, and was as bloody as
a butcher. And you'd ort a-seed the women-folks when our p'session come
a-bringin' Bills in. I never seed anybody take on like Bills's
woman. -- It was distressin'; it was, indeed. -- Went into hysterics, she
did; and we thought fer a while she'd gone plum crazy, fer she cried so
pitiful over him, and called him "Charley! Charley! " 'stid of his
right name, and went on, clean out of her head, tel she finally jist
fainted clean away.
by him night and day, and tended him as patient as a' angel -- and she
_was_ a' angel, too; and he'd a-never lived to bother nobody agin ef it
hadn't a-be'n fer Annie, as he called her. Zions said there was a
'brazure of the -- some kind o' p'tuber'nce, and ef he'd a-be'n struck
jist a quarter of a' inch below -- jist a quarter of a' inch -- he'd a be'n
a dead man. And I've sence wished -- not 'at I want the life of a human
bein' to account fer -- on'y, -- well, no odds -- I've sence wished 'at I
_had_ a-hit him jist a quarter of a' inch below!
nothin' was ever done about it. So Steve and me got our grindin', and
talked the matter over with Ezry and the boys. Ezry said he was a-goin'
to do all he could fer Bills, 'cause he was a good hand, and when he
wasn't drinkin' they wasn't no peaceabler man in the Settlement. I
kindo' suspicioned what was up, but I said nothin' then. And Ezry said
furder, as we was about drivin' off, that Bills was a despert feller,
and it was best to kindo' humor him a little. "And you must kindo' be
on you guard," he says, "and I'll watch him, and ef anything happens
'at I git wind of I'll let you know," he says; and so we putt out fer
home.
blame of it, 'cause the Sunday afore that her and Steve had went to
meetin', and they got there late, and the house was crowded, and Steve
had ast Bills to give up his seat to Mother, and he wouldn't do it, and
said somepin' 'at disturbed the prayin', and the preacher prayed 'at
the feller 'at was a-makin' the disturbance might be forgive'; and that
riled Bills so he got up and left, and hung around till it broke up,
so's he could git a chance at Steve to pick a fight. And he did _try_
it, and dared Steve and double-dared him fer a fight, but Mother begged
so hard 'at she kep' him out of it. Steve said 'at he'd a-told me all
about it on the way to Ezry's on'y he'd promised Mother, you know, not
to say nothin' to me.
as happy as you please. We ast him how him and Bills was a-makin' it,
and he said firstrate; said 'at Bills was jist a-doin' splendid; said
he'd got moved in his new house 'at he'd fixed up fer him, and
ever'thing was a-goin' on as smooth as could be; and Bills and the boys
was on better terms'n ever; and says he, "As fur as you and Steve's
concerned, Bills don't 'pear to bear you no ill feelin's, and says as
fur as he's concerned the thing's settled. " "Well," says I, "Ezry, I
hope so; but I can't he'p but think they's somepin' at the bottom of
all this"; and says I, "I don't think it's in Bills to ever amount to
anything good"; and says I, "It's my opinion they's a dog in the well,
and now you mark it!"
said he couldn't turn the feller off -- he hadn't the heart to do that,
with that-air pore, dilicate woman o' his, and the baby. And then he
went on to tell what a smart sorto' woman Bills's wife was, -- one of the
nicest little women he'd ever laid eyes on, said she was; said she was
the kindest thing, and the sweetest-tempered, and all -- and the handiest
woman 'bout the house, and 'bout sewin', and cookin', and the like,
and all kinds o' housework; and so good to the childern, and all; and
how they all got along so well; and how proud she was of her baby, and
allus a-goin' on about it and a-cryin' over it and a-carryin' on, and
wouldn't leave it out of her sight a minute. And Ezry said 'at she
could write so purty, and made sich purty pictur's fer the childern;
and how they all liked her better'n their own mother. And, sence she'd
moved, he said it seemed so lonesome-like 'thout _her_ about the
house -- like they'd lost one o' their own fambly; said they didn't git
to see her much now, on'y sometimes, when her man would be at work,
she'd run over fer a while, and kiss all the childern and women-folks
about the place, -- the greatest hand fer the childern, she was; tell 'em
all sorts o' little stories, you know, and sing fer 'em; said 'at she
could sing so sweet-like, 'at time and time agin she'd break clean down
in some song o' nother, and her voice would trimble so mournful-like
'at you'd find yourse'f a-cryin' afore you knowed it. And she used to
coax Ezry's woman to let her take the childern home with her; and they
used to allus want to go, tel Bills come onc't while they was there,
and they said he got to jawin' her fer a-makin' some to-do over the
baby, and swore at her and tuk it away from her and whirped it fer
cryin', and _she_ cried and told him to whirp her and not little Annie,
and he said that was jist what he _was_ a-doin'.
down, and went 'bout his business so stiddy-like, and worked so well,
the neighbers begin to think he was all right after all, and railly
_some_ got to _likin'_ him. But fer _me_, -- well, I was a leetle slow to
argy 'at the feller wasn't "a-possumin'. " But the next time I went over
to the mill -- and Steve went with me -- old Ezry come and met us, and said
'at Bills didn't have no hard feelin's ef _we_ didn't and 'at he wanted
us to fergive him; said 'at Bills wanted him to tell us 'at he was
sorry the way he'd acted, and wanted us to fergive him. Well, I looked
at Ezry, and we both looked at him, jist perfectly tuk back -- the idee
o' Bills a-wantin' anybody to _fergive him_! And says I, "Ezry, what in
the name o' common sense do you mean? " And says he, "I mean jist what I
say; Bills jined meetin' last night and had 'em all a-prayin' fer him;
and we all had _a glorious time_," says old Ezry; "and his woman was
there and jined, too, and prayed and shouted and tuk on to beat all;
and Bills got up and spoke and give in his experience, and said he'd
be'n a bad man, but, glory to God, them times was past and gone; said
'at he wanted all of 'em to pray fer him, and he wanted to prove
faithful, and wanted all his inemies to fergive him; and prayed 'at you
and Steve and your folks would fergive him, and ever'body 'at he ever
wronged anyway."
and a-rubbin' his hands, he was so excited and tickled over it, 'at
Steve and me we jist stood there a-gawkin' like, tel Bills hisse'f come
up and retch out one hand to Steve and one to me; and Steve shuk with
him kindo' oneasy-like, and I -- well, sir, I never felt cur'oser in my
born days than I did that minute. The cold chills crep' over me, and I
shuk as ef I had the agur, and I folded my hands behind me and I
looked that feller square in the eye, and I tried to speak three or
four times afore I could make it, and when I did, my voice wasn't
natchurl -- sounded like a feller a-whisperin' through a tin horn er
somepin'. -- And I says, says I, "You're a liar," slow and delibert. That
was all. His eyes blazed a minute, and drapped; and he turned, 'thout a
word, and walked off. And Ezry says, "He's in airnest; I know he's in
airnest, er he'd a-never a-tuk that! " And so he went on, tel finally
Steve jined in, and betwixt 'em they p'suaded me 'at I was in the wrong
and the best thing to do was to make it all up, which I finally did.
And Bills said 'at he'd a-never a-felt jist right 'thout _my_
friendship, fer he'd wronged me, he said, and he'd wronged Steve and
Mother, too, and he wanted a chance, he said, o' makin' things straight
agin.
but Bills -- how airnest the feller acted 'bout it, and how, ef he
_wasn't_ in airnest, he'd a-never a-swallered that "lie," you see.
That's what walked my log, fer he could a-jist as easy a-knocked me
higher'n Kilgore's kite as he could to walk away 'thout a-doin' of it.
'at we'd have trouble afore we got back, and a-gitten home safe, and
a-bringin' the news 'bout Bills a-jinin' church and all, tickled her so
'at she mighty nigh shouted fer joy. You see, Mother was a' old
church-member all her life; and I don't think she ever missed a sermont
er a prayer-meetin' 'at she could possibly git to -- rain er shine, wet
er dry. When they was a meetin' of any kind a-goin' on, go she would,
and nothin' short o' sickness in the fambly, er knowin' nothin' of it,
would stop _her_! And clean up to her dyin' day she was a God-fearin'
and consistent Christian ef they ever was one. I mind now when she was
tuk with her last spell and laid bedfast fer eighteen months, she used
to tell the preacher, when he'd come to see her and pray and go on, 'at
she could die happy ef she could on'y be with 'em all agin in their
love-feasts and revivals. She was purty low then, and had be'n
a-failin' fast fer a day er two; and that day they'd be'n a-holdin'
service at the house. It was her request, you know, and the neighbers
had congergated and was a-prayin' and a-singin' her favorite hymns -- one
in p'tickler, "God moves in a myster'ous way his wunders to p'form,"
and 'bout his "Walkin' on the sea and a-ridin' of the storm. " -- Well,
anyway, they'd be'n a-singin' that hymn fer her -- she used to sing
that'n so much, I rickollect as fur back as I kin remember; and I mind
how it used to make me feel so lonesome-like and solemn, don't you
know, -- when I'd be a-knockin' round the place along o' evenings, and
she'd be a-milkin', and I'd hear her, at my feedin', way off by myse'f,
and it allus somehow made me feel like a feller'd ort 'o try and live
as nigh right as the law allows, and that's about my doctern yit.
Granny Lowry was jist a-goin' to lead in prayer, when I noticed Mother
kindo' tried to turn herse'f in bed, and smiled so weak and faint-like,
and looked at me, with her lips a-kindo' movin'; and I thought maybe
she wanted another dos't of her syrup 'at Ezry's woman had fixed up fer
her, and I kindo' stooped down over her and ast her ef she wanted
anything. "Yes," she says, and nodded, and her voice sounded so low and
solemn and so fur-away-like 'at I knowed she'd never take no more
medicine on this airth. And I tried to ast her what it was she wanted,
but I couldn't say nothin'; my throat hurt me, and I felt the warm
tears a-boolgin' up, and her kind old face a-glimmerin' away so
pale-like afore my eyes, and still a-smilin' up so lovin' and forgivin'
and so good 'at it made me think so fur back in the past I seemed to be
a little boy agin; and seemed like her thin gray hair was brown and
a-shinin' in the sun as it used to do when she helt me on her shoulder
in the open door, when Father was a-livin' and we used to go to meet
him at the bars; seemed like her face was young agin, and a-smilin'
like it allus used to be, and her eyes as full o' hope and happiness as
afore they ever looked on grief er ever shed a tear. And I thought of
all the trouble they had saw on my account, and of all the lovin' words
her lips had said, and of all the thousand things her pore old hands
had done fer me 'at I never even thanked her fer; and how I loved her
better'n all the world besides, and would be so lonesome ef she went
away. -- Lord! I can't tell you what I _didn't_ think and feel and see.
And I knelt down by her, and she whispered then fer Steven, and he
come, and we kissed her -- and she died -- a-smilin' like a child -- jist
like a child.
I _could_ tell a story 'thout driftin' off in matters 'at hain't no
livin' thing to do with what I started out with. I try to keep from
thinkin' of afflictions and the like, 'cause sich is bound to come to
the best of us; but a feller's rickollection will bring 'em up, and I
reckon it'd ort'o be er it wouldn't be; and I've thought, sometimes, it
was done maybe to kindo' admonish a feller, as the Good Book says, of
how good a world'd be 'thout no sorrow in it.
sir, they wasn't a better-actin' feller and more religious-like in all
the neighberhood. Spoke in meetin's, he did, and tuk a' active part in
all religious doin's, and, in fact, was jist as square a man,
appearantly, as the preacher hisse'f. And about six er eight weeks
after he'd jined, they got up another revival, and things run high.
They was a big excitement, and ever'body was a'tendin' from fur and
near. Bills and Ezry got the mill-hands to go, and didn't talk o'
nothin' _but_ religion. People thought awhile 'at old Ezry'd turn
preacher, he got so interested 'bout church matters. He was easy
excited 'bout anything; and when he went into a thing it was in dead
airnest, shore! -- "jist flew off the handle," as I heerd a comical
feller git off onc't. And him and Bills was up and at it ever'
night -- prayin' and shoutin' at the top o' their voice. Them railly did
seem like good times -- when ever'body jined together, and prayed and
shouted hosanner, and danced around together, and hugged each other
like they was so full o' glory they jist couldn't he'p
theirse'v's! -- That's the reason _I_ jined; it looked so kindo'
whole-souled-like and good, you understand. But law! I didn't hold
out -- on'y fer a little while, and no wunder!
chillin' ever'-other-day, then _ever'_ day, and harder and harder, tel
sometimes he'd be obleeged to stay away from meetin' on account of it.
And onc't I was at meetin' when he told about it, and how when he
couldn't be with 'em he allus prayed at home, and he said 'at he
believed his prayers was answered, fer onc't he'd prayed fer a new
outpourin' of the Holy Sperit, and that very night they was three new
jiners. And another time he said 'at he'd prayed 'at Wesley Morris
would jine, and lo and behold you! he _did_ jine, and the very night
'at he _prayed_ he would.
couldn't go that night, and was in bed when Ezry druv past fer him;
said he'd like to go, but had a high fever and couldn't. And then
Ezry's woman ast him ef he was too sick to spare Annie; and he said no,
they could take her and the baby: and told her to fix his medicine so's
he could reach it 'thout gittin' out o' bed, and he'd git along 'thout
her. And so she tuk the baby and went along with Ezry and his folks.
seat jist behind me -- Steve give her his'n and stood up; and I
rickollect a-astin' her how Bills was a-gittin' along with the agur;
and little Annie, the baby, kep' a-pullin' my hair and a-crowin' tel
finally she went to sleep; and Steve ast her mother to let _him_ hold
her -- cutest little thing you ever laid eyes on, and the very pictur'
_of_ her mother.
text, ef I rickollect right, was "workin' out your own salvation"; and
when I listen to preachers nowadays in their big churches and their
fine pulpits, I allus think o' Daddy Barker, and kindo' some way wisht
the old times could come agin, with the old log meetin'-house with its
puncheon-floor, and the chinkin' in the walls, and old Daddy Barker in
the pulpit. He'd make you feel 'at the Lord could make Hisse'f at home
there, and find jist as abundant comfort in the old log house as He
could in any of your fine-furnished churches 'at you can't set down in
'thout payin' fer the privilege, like it was a theatre.
preacher made sich a purty prayer about the Saviour a-cotin' from the
Bible 'bout "Suffer little childern to come unto Me" -- and all; and
talked so purty 'bout the jedgment day, and mothers a-meetin' their
little ones there -- and all; and went on tel they wasn't a dry eye in
the house -- And jist as he was a-windin' up, Abe Riggers stuck his head
in at the door and hollered "Fire! " loud as he could yell. We all
rushed out, a-thinkin' it was the meetin'-house; but he hollered it was
the mill; and shore enough, away off to the south'ards we could see
the light acrost the woods, and see the blaze a-lickin' up above the
trees. I seed old Ezry as he come a-scufflin' through the crowd; and we
putt out together fer it. Well, it was two mil'd to the mill, but by
the time we'd half-way got there, we could tell it wasn't the mill
a-burnin', 'at the fire was furder to the left, and that was Ezry's
house; and by the time we got there it wasn't much use. We pitched into
the household goods, and got out the beddin', and the furnitur' and
cheers, and the like o' that; saved the clock and a bedstid, and got
the bureau purt' nigh out when they hollered to us 'at the roof was
a-cavin' in, and we had to leave it; well, we'd tuk the drawers out,
all but the big one, and that was locked; and it and all in it went
with the buildin'; and that was a big loss: All the money 'at Ezry was
a-layin' by was in that-air drawer, and a lot o' keepsakes and trinkets
'at Ezry's woman said she wouldn't a-parted with fer the world and all.
old Ezry give clean down, and the women and childern a-cryin' and
a-takin' on. It looked jist awful -- shore's you're born! -- Losin'
ever'thing they'd worked so hard fer -- and there it was, purt' nigh
midnight, and a fambly, jist a little while ago all so happy, and now
with no home to go to, ner nothin'!
out ef he'd on'y be'n strong enough to git there; said he started
twic't to go, but was too weak and had to go back to bed agin; said it
was a-blazin' in the kitchen roof when he first seed it. So the gineral
conclusion 'at we all come to was -- it must a-ketched from the flue.
kind o' shanty, and so Ezry moved in with Bills. And Bills used to say
ef it hadn't a-be'n fer Ezry _he'd_ a-never a-had no house, ner nothin'
to putt in it, nuther! You see, all the household goods 'at Bills had
in the world he'd got of Ezry, and he 'lowed he'd be a triflin' whelp
ef he didn't do all in _his_ power to make _Ezry_ perfeckly at home's
long as he wanted to stay there. And together they managed to make room
fer 'em all, by a-buildin' a kindo' shed-like to the main house,
intendin' to build when Spring come. And ever'thing went along
first-rate, I guess; never heerd no complaints -- that is, p'tickler.
his trouble much, and didn't 'tend meetin' much, like he used to; said
it made him think 'bout his house burnin', and he didn't feel safe to
lose sight o' the mill. And the meetin's kindo' broke up altogether
that winter. Almost broke up religious doin's, it did. 'S long as I've
lived here I never seed jist sich a slack in religion as they was that
winter; and 'fore _then_, I kin mind the time when they wasn't a night
the whole endurin' winter when they didn't have preachin' er
prayer-meetin' o' some kind a-goin' on. W'y, I rickollect one night in
p'tickler -- the _coldest_ night, _whooh_! And somebody had stold the
meetin'-house door, and they was obleeged to preach 'thout it. And the
wind blowed in so they had to hold their hats afore the candles, and
then onc't-in-a-while they'd git sluffed out. And the snow drifted in
so it was jist like settin' out doors; and they had to stand up when
they prayed -- yes-sir! stood up to pray. I noticed that night they was
a' oncommon lot o' jiners, and I believe to this day 'at most of 'em
jined jist to git up where the stove was. Lots o' folks had their feet
froze right in meetin'; and Steve come home with his ears froze like
they was whittled out o' bone; and he said 'at Mary Madaline Wells's
feet was froze, and she had two pair o' socks on over her shoes. Oh, it
_was_ cold, now I _tell_ you!
didn't work to say stiddy tel along in Aprile, and then they was snow
on the ground yit -- in the shadders -- and the ground froze, so you
couldn't hardly dig a grave. But at last they got to kindo' jiggin'
along agin. Plenty to do there was; and old Ezry was mighty tickled,
too; 'peared to recruit right up like. Ezry was allus best tickled when
things was a-stirrin', and then he was a-gittin' ready fer buildin',
you know, -- wanted a house of his own, he said. -- And of course it
wasn't adzackly like home, all cluttered up as they was there at
Bills's. They got along mighty well, though, together; and the
women-folks and childern got along the best in the world. Ezry's woman
used to say she never laid eyes on jist sich another woman as Annie
was.
said her two little girls had learnt to read, and didn't know their a-b
abs afore Annie learnt 'em; well, the oldest one, Mary Patience, she
_did_ know her _letters_, I guess -- fourteen year old, she was; but
Mandy, the youngest, had never seed inside a book afore that winter;
and the way she learnt was jist su'prisin'. She was puny-like and
frail-lookin' allus, but ever'body 'lowed she was a heap smarter'n Mary
Patience, and she _was_; and in my opinion she railly had more sense'n
all the rest o' the childern putt together, 'bout books and cipherin'
and 'rethmetic, and the like; and John Wesley, the oldest of 'em, he
got to teachin' at last, when he growed up, -- but, law! he couldn't
write his own name so's you could read it. I allus thought they was a
good 'eal of old Ezry in John Wesley. Liked to romance 'round with the
youngsters 'most too well. -- Spiled him fer teachin', I allus thought;
fer instance, ef a scholard said somepin' funny in school, John-Wes
he'd jist have to have his laugh out with the rest, and it was jist fun
fer the boys, you know, to go to school to _him_. Allus in fer
spellin'-matches and the like, and learnin' songs and sich. I
rickollect he give a' exhibition onc't, one winter, and I'll never
fergit it, I rickon.
night they was up'ards of a hunderd er more -- jist crammed and jammed!
And the benches was piled back so's to make room fer the flatform
they'd built to make their speeches and dialogues on; and fellers
a-settin' up on them back seats, their heads was clean aginst the
j'ist. It was a low ceilin', anyhow, and o' course them 'at tuk a part
in the doin's was way up, too. Janey Thompson had to give up her part
in a dialogue, 'cause she looked so tall she was afeard the
congergation would laugh at her; and they couldn't git her to come out
and sing in the openin' song 'thout lettin' her set down first and git
ready 'fore they pulled the curtain. You see, they had sheets sewed
together, and fixed on a string some way, to slide back'ards and
for'ards, don't you know. But they was a big bother to 'em -- couldn't
git 'em to work like. Ever' time they'd git 'em slid 'bout half-way
acrost, somepin' would ketch, and they'd haf to stop and fool with 'em
awhile 'fore they could git 'em the balance o' the way acrost. Well,
finally, to'rds the last, they jist kep' 'em drawed back all the time.
scholards all wanted it fixed thataway, the teacher said, in a few
appropert remarks he made when the thing was over. Well, I was
a-settin' in the back part o' the house on them high benches, and my
head was jist even with them on the flatform, and the lights was pore,
and where the string was stretched fer the curtain to slide on it
looked like the p'formers was strung on it. And when Lige Boyer's boy
was a-speakin' -- kindo' mumbled it, you know, and you couldn't half
hear -- it looked fer the world like he was a-chawin' on that-air string;
and some devilish feller 'lowed ef he'd chaw it clean in two it'd be a
good thing fer the balance. After that they all sung a sleigh-ridin'
song, and it was right purty, the way they got it off. Had a passel o'
sleigh-bells they'd ring ever' onc't-in-a-while, and it sounded
purty -- shore!
the youngsters allus had in winter-time, a-sleighin' and the like, and
spellin'-matches, and huskin'-bees, and all. Purty good, it was, and
made a feller think o' old times. Well, that was about the best thing
they was done that night; but everybody said the teacher wrote it fer
her; and I wouldn't be su'prised much, fer they was married not long
afterwards. I expect he wrote it fer her. -- Wouldn't putt it past Wes!
fixed up -- had on his pap's old bell-crowned hat, the one he was married
in. Well, I jist thought die I would when I seed that old hat and
called to mind the night his pap was married, and we all got him a
little how-come-you-so on some left-handed cider 'at' had be'n a-layin'
in a whiskey-bar'l tel it was strong enough to bear up a' egg. I kin
rickollect now jist how he looked in that hat, when it was all new, you
know, and a-settin' on the back of his head, and his hair in his eyes;
and sich hair! -- as red as git-out -- and his little black eyes a-shinin'
like beads. Well-sir, you'd a-died to a-seed him a-dancin'. We danced
all night that night, and would a-be'n a-dancin' yit, I rickon, ef the
fiddler hadn't a-give out. Wash Lowry was a-fiddlin' fer us; and along
to'rds three er four in the morning Wash was purty well fagged out. You
see, Wash could never play fer a dance er nothin' 'thout a-drinkin'
more or less, and when he got to a certain pitch you couldn't git
nothin' out o' him but "Barbary Allan"; so at last he struck up on
that, and jist kep' it up, and _kep'_ it up, and nobody couldn't git
nothin' else out of him!
to dance by, _no_ way you can fix it; and, o' course, the boys seed at
onc't their fun was gone ef they couldn't git him on another tune. -- And
they'd coax and beg and plead with him, and maybe git him started on
"The Wind Blows over the Barley," and 'bout the time they'd git to
knockin' it down agin purty lively, he'd go to sawin' away on "Barbary
Allan" -- and I'll-be-switched-to-death ef that feller didn't set there
and play hisse'f sound asleep on "Barbary Allan," and we had to wake
him up afore he'd quit! Now, that's jes' the plum facts. And they
wasn't a better fiddler nowheres than Wash Lowry, when he was at
hisse'f. I've heerd a good many fiddlers in my day, and I never heerd
one yit 'at could play my style o' fiddlin' ekal to Wash Lowry. You
see, Wash didn't play none o' this-here new-fangled music -- nothin' but
the old tunes, you understand, "The Forked Deer," and "Old Fat Gal,"
and "Gray Eagle," and the like. Now, them's music! Used to like to hear
Wash play "Gray Eagle. " He could come as nigh a-makin' that old tune
talk as ever you heerd! Used to think a heap o' his fiddle -- and he had
a good one, shore. I've heerd him say, time and time agin, 'at a
five-dollar gold-piece wouldn't buy it, and I knowed him myse'f to
refuse a calf fer it onc't -- yes-sir, a yearland calf -- and the feller
offered him a double-bar'l'd pistol to boot, and blame ef he'd take it;
said he'd ruther part with anything else he owned than his fiddle. -- But
here I am, clean out o' the furry agin! . Oh, yes; I was a-tellin'
'bout little Bob, with that old hat; and he had on a swaller-tail coat
and a lot o' fixin's, a-actin' like he was a squire; and he had him a
great long beard made out o' corn-silks, and you wouldn't a-knowed him
ef it wasn't fer his voice.
a-tryin' some kind o' law-suit, you see; and John Wesley he was the
defendunt, and Joney Wiles, I believe it was, played like he was the
plaintive. And they'd had a fallin' out 'bout some land, and was
a-lawin' fer p'session, you understand. Well, Bob he made out it was a
mighty bad case when _John-Wes_ comes to consult him 'bout it, and
tells _him_ ef a little p'int o' law was left out he thought he could
git the land fer him. And then John-Wes _bribes_ him, you understand,
to leave out the p'int o' law, and the squire says he'll do all he kin,
and so John-Wes goes out a-feelin' purty good. Then _Wiles_ comes in to
consult the squire, don't you see. And the 'squire tells _him_ the same
tale he told _John Wesley_. So _Wiles_ bribes him to leave out the
p'int o' law in _his_ favor, don't you know. So when the case is tried
he decides in favor o' John-Wes, a-tellin' _Wiles_ some cock-and-bull
story 'bout havin' to manage it thataway so's to git the case mixed
so's he could git it fer him shore; and posts _him_ to sue fer change
of venue or somepin', -- anyway, Wiles gits a new trial, and then the
squire decides in _his_ favor, and tells John-Wes another trial will
fix it in _his_ favor, and so on. -- And so it goes on tel, anyway, he
gits holt o' the land hisse'f and all their money besides, and leaves
them to hold the bag! Well-sir, it was purty well got up; and they said
it was John-Wes's doin's, and I 'low it was -- he was a good hand at
anything o' that sort, and knowed how to make fun. -- But I've be'n
a-tellin' you purty much ever'thing but what I started out with, and
I'll try and hurry through, 'cause I know you're tired.
the old way. The boys round was a-gittin' devilish, and o' nights
'specially theyr was a sight o' meanness a-goin' on. The mill-hands,
most of 'em, was mixed up in it -- Coke and Morris, and them 'at had
jined meetin' 'long in the winter had all backslid, and was a-drinkin'
and carousin' round worse'n ever.
to all appearance; said he liked to see a feller when he made up his
mind to do right, he liked to see him do it, and not go back on his
word; and even went so fer as to tell Ezry ef they didn't putt a stop
to it he'd quit the neighberhood and go somers else. And Bills was
Ezry's head man then, and he couldn't a-got along 'thout him; and I
b'lieve ef Bills had a-said the word old Ezry would a-turned off ever'
hand he had. -- He got so he jist left ever'thing to Bills. Ben Carter
was turned off fer somepin', and nobody ever knowed what. Bills and him
had never got along jist right sence the fight.
drinkin' and in trouble, o' course. I'd knowed Ben well enough to know
he wouldn't do nothin' ornry ef he wasn't agged on, and ef he ever was
mixed up in anything o' the kind Wes Morris and John Coke was at the
bottom of it, and I take notice _they_ wasn't turned off when Ben was.
a dozend; and when all the devilment was done they _could_ do, they
started on a stealin' expedition, and stold a lot o' chickens and tuk
'em to the mill to roast 'em; and, to make a long story short, that
night the mill burnt clean to the ground. And the whole pack of 'em
collogued together aginst Carter to saddle it onto him; claimed 'at
they left Ben there at the mill 'bout twelve o'clock -- which was a fact,
fer he was dead drunk and couldn't git away. Steve stumbled over him
while the mill was a-burnin' and drug him out afore he knowed what was
a-goin' on, and it was all plain enough to Steve 'at Ben didn't have no
hand in the firin' of it. But I'll tell you he sobered up mighty
suddent when he seed what was a-goin' on, and heerd the neighbers
a-hollerin', and a-threatenin' and a-goin' on! -- fer it seemed to be the
ginerl idee 'at the buildin' was fired a-purpose. And says Ben to
Steve, says he, "I expect I'll haf to say good-bye to you, fer they've
got me in a ticklish place! I kin see through it all now, when it's too
late! " And jist then Wesley Morris hollers out, "Where's Ben Carter? "
and started to'rds where me and Ben and Steve was a-standin'; and Ben
says, wild-like, "Don't you two fellers ever think it was _my_ doin's,"
and whispers "Good-bye," and started off; and when we turned, Wesley
Morris was a-layin' flat of his back, and we heerd Carter yell to the
crowd 'at "that man" -- meanin' Morris -- "needed lookin' after worse than
_he_ did," and another minute he plunged into the river and swum
acrost; and we all stood and watched him in the flickerin' light tel he
clum out on t'other bank; and 'at was the last anybody ever seed o' Ben
Carter!
mill then was jist a-smoulderin' to ashes -- fer it was as dry as tinder
and burnt like a flash -- and jist as a party was a-talkin' o' organizin'
and follerin' Carter, we heerd a yell 'at I'll never fergit ef I'd live
tell another flood. Old Ezry, it was, as white as a corpse, and with
the blood a-streamin' out of a gash in his forred, and his clothes half
on, come a-rushin' into the crowd and a-hollerin' fire and murder ever'
jump. "My house is a-burnin', and my folks is all a-bein' murdered
whilse you're a-standin' here! And Bills done it! Bills done it! " he
hollered, as he headed the crowd and started back fer home. "Bills done
it! I caught him at it; and he would a-murdered me in cold blood ef it
hadn't a-be'n fer his woman. He knocked me down, and had me tied to a
bed-post in the kitchen afore I come to. And his woman cut me loose and
told me to run fer he'p; and says I, 'Where's Bills? ' and she says,
'He's after _me_ by this time. ' And jist then we heerd Bills holler,
and we looked, and he was a-standin' out in the clearin' in front o'
the house, with little Annie in his arms; and he hollered wouldn't she
like to kiss the baby good-bye. And she hollered My God! fer me to save
little Annie, and fainted clean dead away. And I heerd the roof
a-crackin', and grabbed her up and packed her out jist in time. And
when I looked up, Bills hollered out agin, and says, 'Ezry,' he says,
'you kin begin to kindo' git an idee o' what a good feller I am! And ef
you hadn't a-caught me you'd a-never a-knowed it, and "_Brother
Williams_" wouldn't a-be'n called away to another app'intment like he
is.'
safe _now_ fer I hain't got time to waste on you furder. ' And jist then
his woman kindo' come to her senses ag'in and hollered fer little
Annie, and the child heerd her and helt out its little arms to go to
her, and hollered 'Mother! Mother! ' And Bills says, 'Dam yer mother! ef
it hadn't a-be'n fer _her_ I' a-be'n all right. And dam you, too! ' he
says to me. -- 'This'll pay you fer that lick you struck me; and fer you
a-startin' reports, when I first come, 'at more'n likely I'd done
somepin' mean over East and come out West to reform! And I wonder ef I
_didn't_ do somepin' mean afore I come here? ' he went on; 'kill
somebody er somepin'? And I wonder ef I ain't reformed enough to go
back? Good-bye, Annie! ' he hollered; 'and you needn't fret about yer
baby, I'll be the same indulgent father to it I've allus be'n! ' And the
baby was a-cryin' and a-reachin' out its little arms to'rds its mother,
when Bills he turned and struck off in the dark to'rds the river."
makin' our minds up 'at he'd haf to cross it, and ef he done _that_
he'd haf to use the boat 'at was down below the mill, er wade it at the
ford, a mil'd er more down. So we divided in three sections, like -- one
to go and look after the folks at the house, and another to the boat,
and another to the ford. And Steve and me and Ezry was in the crowd 'at
struck fer the boat: and we made time a-gittin' there! It was awful
dark, and the sky was a-cloudin' up, like a storm; but we wasn't long
a-gittin' to the p'int where the boat was allus tied; but they wasn't
no boat there! Steve kindo' tuk the lead, and we all talked in
whispers. And Steve said to kindo' lay low and maybe we could hear
somepin'; and some feller said he thought he heerd somepin'
strange-like, but the wind was kindo' raisin' and kep' up sich a
moanin' through the trees along the bank 'at we couldn't make out
nothin'. "Listen! " says Steve, suddent-like, "_I_ hear somepin'! " We
was all still ag'in -- and we all heerd a moanin' 'at was sadder'n the
wind -- sounded mournfuller to _me_, -- 'cause I knowed it in a minute, and
I whispered, "Little Annie. " And 'way out acrost the river we could
hear the little thing a-sobbin', and we all was still's death; and we
heerd a voice we knowed was Bills's say, "Dam ye! Keep still, or I'll
drownd ye! " And the wind kindo' moaned ag'in, and we could hear the
trees a-screetchin' together in the dark, and the leaves a-rustlin';
and when it kindo' lulled ag'in, we heerd Bills make a kindo' splash
with the oars; and jist then Steve whispered fer to lay low and be
ready -- he was a-goin' to riconn'itre; and he took his coat and shoes
off, and slid over the bank and down into the worter as slik as a' eel.
kep' a-gittin' louder and louder; and then a voice whispered to us,
"He's a-comin' back; the crowd below has sent scouts up, and they're on
t'other side. Now watch clos't, and he's our meat. " We could hear
Bills, by the moanin' o' the baby, a-comin' nearder and nearder, tel
suddently he made a sorto' miss-lick with the oar, I reckon, and must
a-splashed the baby, fer she set up a loud cryin'; and jist then old
Ezry, who was a-leanin' over the bank, kindo' lost his grip, some way
o' nother, and fell kersplash in the worter like a' old chunk. "Hello? "
says Bills, through the dark, "you're there, too, air ye? " as old Ezry
splashed up the bank ag'in. And "Cuss you! " he says then, to the
baby -- "ef it hadn't be'n fer _your_ infernal squawkin' I'd a-be'n all
right; but you've brought the whole neighberhood out, and, dam you,
I'll jist let you swim out to 'em! " And we heerd a splash, then a kindo
gurglin', and then Steve's voice a-hollerin', "Close in on him, boys;
I've got the baby! " And about a dozent of us bobbed off the bank like
so many bull-frogs, and I'll tell you the worter b'iled! We could jist
make out the shape o' the boat, and Bills a-standin' with a' oar drawed
back to smash the first head 'at come in range. It was a mean place to
git at him. We knowed he was despert, and fer a minute we kindo' helt
back. Fifteen foot o' worter's a mighty onhandy place to git hit over
the head in! And Bills says, "You hain't afeard, I rickon -- twenty men
ag'in one! " "You'd better give yourse'f up! " hollered Ezry from the
shore.
anxious 'bout bein' borned ag'in, jist yit awhile," he says; "I see you
kindo' 'pear to go in fer baptism; guess you'd better go home and git
some dry clothes on; and, speakin' o' home, you'd ort 'o be there by
all means -- your house might catch afire and burn up whilse you're
gone! " And jist then the boat give a suddent shove under him -- some
feller'd div under and tilted it -- and fer a minute it throwed him off
his guard, and the boys closed in. Still he had the advantage, bein' in
the boat: and as fast as a feller would climb in he'd git a whack o'
the oar, tell finally they got to pilin' in a little too fast fer him
to manage, and he hollered then at we'd have to come to the bottom ef
we got him, and with that he div out o' the end o' the boat, and we
lost sight of him; and I'll be blame ef he didn't give us the slip
after all!
expectin' he'd raise, but couldn't find hide ner hair of him; so we
left the boat a-driftin' off down stream and swum ashore, a-thinkin'
he'd jist drownded hisse'f a-purpose. But they was more su'prise
waitin' fer us yit, -- fer lo-and-behold-ye, when we got ashore they
wasn't no trace o' Steve er the baby to be found. Ezry said he seed
Steve when he fetched little Annie ashore, and she was all right, on'y
she was purt-nigh past cryin'; and he said Steve had lapped his coat
around her and give her to him to take charge of, and he got so excited
over the fight he laid her down betwixt a couple o' logs and kindo'
fergot about her tel the thing was over, and he went to look fer her,
and she was gone. Couldn't a-be'n 'at she'd a-wundered off
her-own-se'f; and it couldn't a-be'n 'at _Steve_'d take her, 'thout
a-lettin' us know it. It was a mighty aggervatin' conclusion to come
to, but we had to do it, and that was, _Bills_ must a-got ashore
unbeknownst to us and packed her off. Sich a thing wasn't hardly
probable, yit it was a thing 'at _might_ be; and after a-talkin' it
over we had to admit 'at _that_ must a-be'n the way of it. But where
was _Steve_? W'y, we argied, he'd diskivvered she was gone, and had
putt out on track of her 'thout losin' time to stop and explain the
thing.
tried to drownd her onc't. We could ast questions enough, but c'rect
answers was mighty skearce, and we jist concluded 'at the best thing to
do was to putt out fer the ford, fer that was the nighdest place Bills
could cross 'thout a boat, and ef it _was_ him tuk the child, he was
still on our side o' the river, o' course. So we struck out fer the
ford, a-leavin' a couple o' men to search _up_ the river. A drizzlin'
sorto' rain had set in by this time, and with that and the darkness and
the moanin' of the wind, it made 'bout as lonesome a prospect as a
feller ever wants to go through ag'in.
reached the ford, but you couldn't hardly see two rods afore you fer
the mist and the fog 'at had settled along the river. We looked fer
tracks, but couldn't make out nothin'. Thereckly old Ezry punched me
and p'inted out acrost the river. "What's that? " he whispers. Jist
'bout half-way acrost was somepin' white-like in the worter -- couldn't
make out what -- perfeckly still it was. And I whispered back and told
him I guess it wasn't nothin' but a sycamore snag. "Listen! " says he;
"sycamore snags don't make no noise like that! " And, shore enough, it
was the same moanin' noise we'd heerd the baby makin' when we first got
on the track. Sobbin' she was, as though nigh about dead. "Well, ef
that's _Bills_," says I -- "and I reckon they hain't no doubt but it
is -- what in the name o' all that's good and bad's the feller a-standin'
there fer! " And a-creepin' clos'ter, we could make him out plainer and
plainer. It _was_ him; and there he stood breast-high in the worter,
a-holdin' the baby on his shoulder like, and a-lookin' up stream, and
a-waitin.'
somepin' a-movin' down the river, and a minute later I'd made out the
old boat a-driftin' down stream; and then of course ever'thing was
plain enough: He was waitin' fer the boat, and ef he got _that_ he'd
have the same advantage on us he had afore.
let him git to the shore alive! " And in we plunged. He seed us, but he
never budged, on'y to grab the baby by its little legs, and swing it
out at arms-len'th. "Stop, there! " he hollered. -- "Stop jist where ye
air! Move another inch and I'll drownd this dam young-un afore yer
eyes! " he says. -- And he'd a-done it. "Boys," says I, "he's got us.
Don't move! This thing'll have to rest with a higher power'n our'n! Ef
any of you kin _pray_," says I, "now's a good time to do it!"
set the baby in it, never a-takin' his eye off o' us, though, fer a
minute. "Now," says he, with a sorto' snarlin' laugh, "I've on'y got a
little while to stay with you, and I want to say a few words afore I
go. I want to tell you fellers, in the first place, 'at you've be'n
_fooled_ in me: I _hain't_ a good feller -- now, honest! And ef you're a
little the worse fer findin' it out so late in the day, you hain't none
the worse fer losin' me so soon -- fer I'm a-goin' away now, and any
interference with my arrangements'll on'y give you more trouble; so
it's better all around to let me go peaceable and jist while I'm in the
notion.
hain't 'Williams,' but it hain't. And maybe you won't think nigh as
much o' me when I tell you furder 'at I was obleeged to 'dopt the name
o' 'Williams' onc't to keep from bein' strung up to a lamp-post, but
sich is the facts. I was so extremely unfortunit onc't as to kill a
p'tickler friend o' mine, and he forgive me with his dyin' breath, and
told me to run whilse I could, and be a better man. But he'd spotted me
with a' ugly mark 'at made it kindo' onhandy _to_ git away, but I did
at last; and jist as I was a-gittin' reformed-like, you fellers had to
kick in the traces, and I've made up my mind to hunt out a more moraler
community, where they don't make sich a fuss about trifles. And havin'
nothin' more to say, on'y to send _Annie_ word 'at I'll still be a
father to her young-un here, I'll bid you all good-bye. " And with that
he turned and clum in the boat -- or ruther _fell_ in, -- fer somepin'
black-like had riz up in it, with a' awful lick -- my -- God! -- And, a
minute later, boat and baggage was a-gratin' on the shore, and a crowd
come thrashin' 'crost from t'other side to jine us, -- and 'peared like
wasn't a _second_ longer tel a feller was a-swingin' by his neck to the
limb of a scrub-oak, his feet clean off the ground and his legs
a-jerkin' up and down like a limber-jack's.
child he wouldn't a-went on more over her than he did; and said nobody
but her mother would git her out o' his hands ag'in. And he was as good
as his word; and ef you could a-seed him a half hour after that, when
he _did_ give her to her mother -- all lapped up in his coat and as
drippin' wet as a little drownded angel -- it would a-made you wish't you
was him to see that little woman a-caperin' round him, and a-thankin'
him, and a-cryin' and a-laughin', and almost a-huggin' him, she was so
tickled, -- well, I thought in my soul she'd die! And Steve blushed like
a girl to see her a-takin' on, and a-thankin' him, and a-cryin', and
a-kissin' little Annie, and a-goin' on. And when she inquired 'bout
Bills, which she did all suddent-like, with a burst o' tears, we jist
didn't have the heart to tell her -- on'y we said he'd crossed the river
and got away. And he had!
believe it: Williams and her wasn't man and wife -- and you needn't look
su'prised, nuther, and I'll tell you fer why: -- They was own brother and
sister; and that brings me to _her_ part of the story, which you'll haf
to admit beats anything 'at you ever read about in books.
hisse'f, you rickollect -- ner _she_ didn't want to tell his right name;
and we forgive her fer that. Her and "Williams" was own brother and
sister, and their parunts lived in Ohio some'ers. Their mother had be'n
dead five year' and better -- grieved to death over her onnachurl
brother's recklessness, which Annie hinted had broke her father up in
some way, in tryin' to shield him from the law. And the secret of her
bein' with him was this: She had married a man o' the name of Curtis or
Custer, I don't mind which, adzackly -- but no matter; she'd married a
well-to-do young feller 'at her brother helt a' old grudge ag'in, she
never knowed what; and, sence her marriage, her brother had went on
from bad to worse, tel finally her father jist give him up and told him
to go it his own way -- he'd killed his _mother_ and ruined _him_, and
he'd jist give up all hopes! But Annie -- you know how a sister is -- she
still clung to him and done ever'thing fer him, tel finally, one night,
about three years after she was married, she got word some way that he
was in trouble ag'in, and sent her husband to he'p him; and a half hour
after he'd gone, her brother come in, all excited and bloody, and told
her to git the baby and come with him, 'at her husband had got in a
quarrel with a friend o' his and was bad hurt. And she went with him,
of course, and he tuk her in a buggy, and lit out with her as tight as
he could go all night; and then told her 'at _he_ was the feller 'at
had quarrelled with her husband, and the officers was after him, and he
was obleeged to leave the country, and fer fear he hadn't made shore
work o' him, he was a-takin' her along to make shore of his gittin' his
revenge; and he swore he'd kill her and the baby too ef she dared to
whimper.
at last to our section o' the country, givin' out 'at they was man and
wife, and keepin' her from denyin' of it by threats, and promises of
the time a-comin' when he'd send her home to her man ag'in in case he
hadn't killed him. And so it run on tel you'd a-cried to hear her tell
it, and still see her sister's love fer the feller a-breakin' out by
a-declarin' how kind he was to her _at times_, and how he wasn't railly
bad at heart, on'y fer his ungov'nable temper. But I couldn't he'p but
notice, when she was a-tellin' of her hist'ry, what a quiet sorto' look
o' satisfaction settled on the face o' Steve and the rest of 'em, don't
you understand.
was, -- could she still make her home with us tel she could git word to
her friends? -- and there she broke down ag'in, not knowin', of course,
whether _they_ was dead er alive; fer time and time ag'in she said
somepin' told her she'd never see her husband ag'in on this airth; and
then the women-folks would cry with her and console her, and the boys
would speak hopeful -- all but Steve; some way o' nother Steve was never
like hisse'f from that time on.
and Ezry and a lot o' hands, and me and Steve amongst 'em, was
a-workin' on the frame-work of another mill. It was purty weather, and
we was all in good sperits, and it 'peared like the whole neighberhood
inte_rest_ed -- and they _was_, too -- women-folks and ever'body. And that
day Ezry's woman and amongst 'em was a-gittin' up a big dinner to fetch
down to us from the house; and along about noon a spruce-lookin' young
feller, with a pale face and a black beard, like, come a-ridin' by and
hitched his hoss, and comin' into the crowd, said "Howdy,"
pleasant-like, and we all stopped work as he went on to say 'at he was
on the track of a feller o' the name o' "Williams," and wanted to know
ef we could give him any infermation 'bout sich a man. Told him
maybe, -- 'at a feller bearin' that name desappeared kindo' myster'ous
from our neighberhood 'bout five weeks afore that. "My God! " says he
a-turnin' paler'n ever, "am I too late? Where did he go, and was his
sister and her baby with him? " Jist then I ketched sight o' the
women-folks a-comin' with the baskets, and Annie with 'em, with a jug
o' worter in her hand; so I spoke up quick to the stranger, and says I,
"I guess 'his sister and her baby' wasn't along," says I, "but his
_wife_ and _baby's_ some'eres here in the neighberhood yit. " And then
a-watchin' him clos't, I says suddent, a-p'intin' over his shoulder,
"There his woman is now -- that one with the jug, there. " Well, Annie had
jist stooped to lift up one o' the little girls, when the feller
turned, and their eyes met. "Annie! My wife! " he says; and Annie she
kindo' give a little yelp like and come a-flutterin' down in his arms;
and the jug o' worter rolled clean acrost the road, and turned a
somerset and knocked the cob out of its mouth and jist laid back and
hollered "Good -- good -- good -- good -- good! " like as ef it knowed what was
up and was jist as glad and tickled as the rest of us.
End of title
