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Contents Strinctown on the Pike Page I Chaptii I. The Vision in the Moonlight n. CuPE's Story and the Omen .... HI. The Lost Deed IV. The "Corn Bug" curses the Parson V. Judge Elford's Decision VI. The Dilemma of the " Corn Bug " VII. "The Best op the Devil and the Law too VIIL The Story of the Colonel IX. The Story of the Parson X. The Fearful Storm of New Year's Eve, ,863 XL Into the Storm passed the Minister . XIL "Look out fo' the Red-Head Boy" . XIIL The Arrest of Cupe XIV. Court Day .... XV. Stringtown Jail XVI. Cupe in Jail XVII. <«Too slow fo' a Coon av' ^^^ A \,ooN an too fast fo' a Possum " . . XVIIL The Trial of Cupe . . . ..**'' XIX. The Right op Clergy .... XX. Jui^GE Elford . 4 IS *4 3* 35 41 48 53 66 76 81 90 94 99 103 108 116 izo 130 »37 ni Contents Pack Chapter XXI. Why the Honey Bee don't suck Red Clover * " ' '*° XXII. " God made de Sign " **9 XXIII. Susie is Lost ^53 XXIV. CupE's Advice to his Dog M^ XXV. The Haunted Hollow *S9 XXVI. Despondent Stringtown *7o XXVII. «« Red-Head" *'' . . . . «8a XXVIII. Spirits XXIX. CuPE's STORY OF the Past »*S XXX. CUPE PURCHASES HIS WiFE *9S XXXI. "A Fearful Sign" "° XXXII. The Spirits affect Dinah "4 XXXin. Old Jew Mose and Sammy Drew . . . »io XXXIV. The Village Circle of Stringtown . . ai3 XXXV. The Love-Song of the Rebel Soldier . "7 XXXVI. "Dinah, Cupe mus' leave de Cabin" . «22 XXXVII. Red-Head, Captive XXXVIII. Return of the Refugees *3* XXXIX. CuPE's Plea for Susie's Name .... a3<> XL. The Fearful African Ordeal Test . . »46 XLI. The Stringtown School *S* XLII. Susie's Introduction to the Stringtown . . . • *S7 School XLIII. The Challenge of Red-Head . . . • * XLIV. Red-Head's Story of the Feud . . • »6S XLV. "Tell me, Jennie, tell me what it is" »74 XLVI. "Strange Sensation that, the Begin- NiNC OF Love • . . • iv Contents Chaptu XLVII. The Voice of the Night XLVIII. The Weird Form cainst the Skv [ [ ] 1,1 XLIX. Susie, Red-Head, and Samuel Drew . . . ^^ L. Cupe's Threat . . ' • 93 ^-. 301 i'l. The Magic Mirror .... LII. My Second Journey over a Path I never YET HAD Trod .... LIII. "Never, UNLESS Duty Calls, SHALL I RETURN TO Stringtown" 3*4 LIV. Farewell to Susie . LV. Professor Samuel Drew * * * * • • • 1*?^ LVI. The Stringtown Poison Case .... LVII. Susie Pleads for Red-Head . . . . ' ' "[ LVni. "POW'FUL INTERESTIN' StORY " (x JOHN, iii.) ' 35) LIX. " More lives than one must go if Red- Head dies" .... LX. Trouble in Stringtown County Court . 36^ LXI. Sm.E, Red-Head, and Myself Again . . . 355 LXII. "The Feud IS over, HoLcoMB" LXIII. A Strange Love-Story LXIV. til came to SAY Farewell" LXV. "You have fought and I have loved" . 395 LXVI. " To what HAS Ambition LED ?" . LXVII. The Music AND THE Voice DIE OUT FOREVER 4o°9 B T **} Illustrations Susie. Dra^ fy Corinne C. Trimble "She was « bright a, a wild red n>,c:' Shewa.a.faira,.lilythatg™wa in Palejtine," Bloody Hollow. "In this silent del, I no. lay alone" The Stringtown Grocery .here the Village Circle .et The abandoned Stringtown Schoolhouse " ^'^"« once stood a battery of bnss field guns " " ' •''^'^ ^" -"y Stringtown friends good-bye " "I love the dust of that old pike" . . . . ' "Where cluster others who live to W. ^ ' Nazareth" . . "^* *° '°^*'' ^n^ pray and die in V ne Kentucky photographic scenes are h Mrs. John Uri Lloyd Frontispiece Page 6 54 Ii6 a34 286 362 40Z Stringtown on the Pike 9 M^";T '" ^'""'"' °""'' '"■< I "■" "ow professor ar se and 7. S'l^' ""'"'™" "' "" '^'■"-''X Pi^ barefooted ch d tL7"'T' "' '^"""^ J^''"' " them, even if ,hey passcdnea ,t ^ ,' ""^"""^ of bygone times. Again the s/n's fierce 'vf to greater laziness. Often I seek TlT'^ "" roadside, there to finY t '''''* "■« " 'he another, : of those memory I mixed omething nembered Fought in ty Years' d seemed truck fog ivas that, i through the mind al events as, under formulse. My one- id bound itters, as • scolded lifFerence Stringtown on the Pike anything of „,yV, ZTtI,:';JT"V'' '""^ «ch learned something concernfnV J" °' ">' ""' ".ediocr. brain,, and olTbyTLZT"''/' "" "" I. in humiliation, sat c„n«L ^ '''""'^ niej and dr.n, absorbed^tre on?unrrr°"/ ^"""S" "■"- tined in after vea« Z " u ""''^ """ *" d"- vvouid.oGod/r,d*h,o:;:\cio':?; ^'■™""^' ■^ CHAPTER I THE VISION IN THE MOONLIGHT "O ETURNING unexpectedly to my little home one i^ Saturday afternoon, I found Professor Drake, the village school-teacher, in conversation with my mother. Before my presence was noticed — for, being barefooted, my step was noiseless — I caught the fragment of a sen- tence : « It is painful to be forced to tell a mother these facts about her son, but duty compels me to say that I despair of teaching him." Then seeing me, he paused and said something about continuing the subject at an- other time. Slow as I was in some respects, his words needed no internretation. My cheek burned in humili- ation, my heart beat violently ; for it is not pleasant to one mentally incapacitated to hear the fact stated, and, less still, for one who loved his mother as intensely as I did, to realise that the most painful part of her life of de- voted privation was small in comparison with the distress that resulted from my stupidity. I was indignant, and felt tempted to return and upbraid the teacher, for were not his words the immediate cause of my mother's sor- row ? Her face was expressive of despair. But the facts were on the pedagogue's side; and, moreover, I appreciated that he, too, grieved over my misfortune. I fled from the house and aimlessly moved on, medi- tating, miserable. I climbed the back fence into the 4 The Vision in the Moonlight woodland pasture, upon which our li„le garden jutted and after crossing i, wandered away from Stringtown, I cared not whether. An hour passed, and n,y anger a^d mortificanon subsided. I ceased ,„ think of the inci- denti .ndeed no record remained to remind my now dormant mtellect of the fact that I existed. My mind had become as unconscious of all external things as it was of inherent emotions. My limbs moved irrespon- ».vely and my body automatically passed alon/ I fancy that had assumed the condition of a bruf; of •he lower class or a creature like the turtle, the differ. ,n7,h "'^. 'k'".'"'' '"^'■" '" in^ll^ctualspark rested, and through „ the drowsy I of self could be excited into consciousness, while the lethargic mind of the tur. e rests irredeemably in the unreachable shadows without. The great distinction between man and brute is that hZ^"! •" T"'/"^ ""= ^""' """"^ "o'Wng of trance that possessed me knew nothing of external ,„J'!°,iV" "f ''""''>' """"^ ">« f ignorant ;roes with ursed, and ice of any was rich, f. j ? m re as in th: wa of wh ray! dee to V side shac tive may the J I ye stran dowr lay p ing u and tj would relief pe; *»ar » The Vision in the Moonlight bushes of sassafras and persimmons _ God's .„,■ • for «rornH>ut grounds too poor for other „l """'"" -refused to grow on ;° „ :! '^'''"' """"« silent dell of fhe udarlt andVn '""■ '" ""» from a distance we children ''• ^'"""^'" "'« had once timidly ^^L^uaJ'"""'"^ cautiously, and then, hud led tSer tn^f ""'"^'^ '"'"'='' '° I now 4 alone. My h^'arthth^K ? ''I™ '""'"' "-y flesh quivered 7 1 k^ew?,^''"'' """"'P^''' refused to move • and ,h. f r I "''"• "'J' '™l's as crystal and righ' as mo7t •';' ^""^ *""' ^'"^ i" 'he west. SimrneouslT ™wtd"' "."\^'°"'^ 'hat singular grey cross fril l i '"'' '''"''''»'' watched it lengthen umil'.l, ..•"'''' '"""^ ""'• I my form and ^X" d l^andTh" '''' """•' "'"' "'" of changing sunsetlhts s'pre^ ' h" f ''"""'"8 play which at last the upper L of 1 ^ ."" *''- ™'<' rays flickered; yet stran?,! T "'"Wa^ed, the deepened darlcirfel'";? L"";! > ^T "'"'8'" to which I refer was an Z- ^ "Whether the shadow side part of life .L^ l'^^' ^^ 'he material or out- shade from the inner Selhl, ^ ™' "^^''S'"' "' " 'ive faculties, I shill nt "^^'^'"^ "J' l«^«P- may fonn his own c ' cT/"'"''"" '" "^' "" «ader 'he phenomenon I re^! ""? ""T'"'"^ "■= ""»' of I ye. recall viv dlv thrs'-^ "!'"""«*«' ' ""i s'mnge shadow, fretehinr.""'""' "^ ""■» ""H down the long, •ba::r„ h fide /"rl "T"""' -"- lay prostrate on the lone tomh .'""'"■''" 'hat as I i-g umbra, I wondered fis"f'it^'r"l'" ""' 'PP"'^'- and then, as its ape. ^ss d v Z^ ^^^ ""^ f-' would engulf me. I rememl, I ' ' ^reat arms relief as the last vestg^rft" '° ""^ f" > sigh of nwr. f^- T u, . ^ "' ^"^ sun was aboiif t" di-pn .-- ... . ..aa unconsciously accepted, without' thiX" 7 Stringtown on the Pike ing it out, that should the arms of the grey cross reach my body, my life would end with the sinking of the sun and the lengthening of the shadow. Then I recollect that as the upper rim of the crescent sun sank and passed from view, and the final slanting rays bent themselves and streamed upward, the arms of the cross at the same instant passed over my body, — and I recollect nothing more. How long I lay in the dew of the blue grass I cannot say, but when I regained consciousness it was as if I were awakening from a dream. It seemed as though I had been possessed of a vision, yet no details remained. I had surely experienced the knowledge of sweets and sours, sorrow and pain, peace and distress, but not of things, thoughts, or sights. A black object, wrapped in black paper, has an existence in the night, although it cannot be seen; a fragment of platinum foil, thrown on a surface of molten silver, has an existence in the light, yet is not to be seen ; a trans- parent object in a transparent liquid held between the eye and the sun Is, and yet is not perceptible to the sight. Thoughts and experiences of my sleeping self had been realities, but to my waking self were not real. I had lived and died, had passed into other realms and back again, and experiencing all, I yet recollected nothing. This struck me as more than strange ; but only for an instant did I think of the occurrence, for I realised im- mediately that I was not now alone. As yet I had not opened my eyes; but as the sleeping child intently watched becomes restless, stirs before it awakes, so did I feel the presence of some body or spirit other than my own. Cautiously seeking to discover the person gazing at me, for my nerves were conscious of that piercing eye, I T fl* Till III ■ itlffiiufi i^jj. _ a vision. n The Vision in the Moonlight I raised myself upon my elbow and peered about ,o see .and,ng close behind ™e an Indian girl, ,,11 "'" beau ,ful By the light of a full n,oon I sa^ her fo™ clearly, distinctly, and noted that her head waTdecorate" .nga,y coloured feathers, and that her dress wasTad of the draped sk.ns of animals. Her bosom was »^^1„ covered, panly bare; her face and bust toTe^er t I now recall the scene, making a picture fh,, ' t serve as an list's ideal. One f and ^^s^ „ t , "i'le ! he fourth finger of the other was placed upon her lb ai .f, m the language all nations understand, the laniul^ of s^ns she were bidding me be silent; and hu!T Zt'ZV^^' '"7'''' S"'"^ "^f- ""She .bnl ss atTerTe:"'' st" 7 ""!, ""Tf' ' '"^ "«>■ a «ti iier leet. bhe seemed to be isteninw for „ sound, and to fear that I would move or peak^ [l I was powerless and could not move ' ^Jce^T." ' tT^ ' '"'"^^ phenomenon. The graceful position her form unconsciouslv assumed cast a shadow over the earth, on and up and into the ctr skv had"s:„: r 7' "%'"'' ''^'^ '<"-"' where Ihlt'n was uphft'ed ^"'"f " ^'^'"''' ""« high in heaven was uplifted, -a perfect cross. The distended elbows cro^ a?; trrh'";"; ■-^r'-^''— -^ of the wiVd .ross, and from behind her, shining through her form as hrough a haze I saw the rising moon's face. Cvel OS apparition ! The visage of the moon peereVa me h ough her veiy body, and thrust that shadow ove ,1 ve t'2 '"'" "^y""- S'range-I ^member „ have thought -strange that when facing the sun I should have closed my eyes upon a cross upon the earth Ye. S hif ■" "T. "" "'"'y'"^ "- ■•""-:•' let While this query Jed mv wonderlnc. ^hou-V. \^ VA no. surprise me that the girl's form^was l^tluL'l ill V I i ! I I'll I f Stringtown on the Pike neither did it seem remarkable that I heard, in answer to my mind's words, the reply, — "Not strange at all. The figure before you was present while the sun still shone, but such creations are invisible in the sunlight. She it was who absorbed the radiance of the sun's rays, and thus permitted the shafts of darkness behind her to cast back at the sun the skel- eton of that depleted sun-ray. The shadow observed on the hillside in the sunlight resulted from the dominating power of the shade of darkness behind. To mortals the sun prevails over all else, but to other existences shade is the reality. She whom you now see is only per- ceptible when a person occupies the peculiar position, both of body and mind, that you now enjoy ; not every one can see what you behold." My reverie was at this point suddenly interrupted ; a second shadow crossed the moon's face, and I beheld, stealthily approaching the girl from behind, an Indian with uplifted stone axe. I tried to scream, to move, but could not. The smile on the face of the unsuspecting girl remained sweetly, wildly beautiful. Behind her countenance that other face peering through her own — as if the tracing of a saint were thrown before the picture of a devil — leered, sinister, desperate, ugly ; and through both of them the moon was shining. I tried again to warn her of the danger, but could not break the spell that bound me ; staring, motionless and powerless, I saw the uplifted war-axe of the phantom chief sink deep into the black hair that covered her spectral skull. Following now a sheep-path along a hillside, now a corn-row through the field, now a dry creek-bed, I ran. Whether my course led to the right or the left con- cerned me not. I only asked to leave that hateful valley ?s far behind as my strength would carry me, Could I JO The Vision in the Moonlight mark. A s dden rt^rfl' ^'r" "° ''^'"'''•"^ '^-f" -X heart ,„ iuL „„,''"'':"'"'">''''« <^»"sed crossed my path v^'„,-7 '"''\'° ''^'" = ""■''l rabbi, it had somL f ' ™""'""S '" ">= darkness as quickly as sha;e:appe:'irs,f^;;t;i„Ta:r:' f" "^."-s- monstrous form <,„>„ t!V ' '""^ '""^fixed the nothing. FCn/[Z„ It my eyes, evolyed from heaven? abov^ "fd^hTnT .f' ' '°""^'' '° ">« «T did it shrink a^d assume rb/p'"'^ =^ " '"■' Reared She adyaneed alonTtl *' '^""''^'- f"™ °f» black cow. o^er. and^ac^Cn the^/r rLl^'J^r °' "" -nri?r'^h:rir^^r--= - though uneerhaVds etched"' """'•r""'^'' though goblins and ghosts thre^.h "'^ ~»'-^'==™». >» though weird arms fndrcled m V""'''T "P™ ""•"' anllM and fee, I.. u ,™^ ^""^ »"'' "^'""hed my and mc^^ed"' ut"!:: '' "''"'""™" ">'"g^ "'-^^ IX t I : ■il !n CHAPTER II cupe's story and the omen A DELIGHTFUL sensation came over me as I lay -* ■l' in security once more among human beings. Only those who have been through experiences such as 1 suffered can appreciate the relief I felt. God help the coward ! God pity him who, frightened, lies powerless with consciousness intact. Fright blots out all other pain ; and he who adds one useless pang to the suffering of a terrified creature must answer for that despicable act m the hereafter where sins are expiated. Exhausted, bleeding, suffering physical pain, and yet content, I rested upon the floor, mentally taking note of the surroundings. The room was that of a plain log house. The floor was very rough, being made of hewn, split beech logs, the rounded portion down, the edges roughly jointed together. The furniture was of the simplest, description; the place was lighted by a single candle. A girl and a man occupied the cabin, the latter none other than the " Corn Bug ; " and it was evident that I had wandered from my course perhaps in a spiral out and back again, for the valley in which I saw the strange grey cross was, I well knew, but a short distance from the rude !og house in which I now was sheltered. The other occupant of the house was to me unknown • a singular little creature, with great eyes and round face encircled by wild flowing hair, a curious child who fas- 12 Cupe's Story and the Omen silence caused by my strange entrance was at length broken by the "Corn Bug." ^ « Sammy, what 's the matter ? " he said. " I am lost," I answered. " Not while you are here." " I was scared." " Wall," he continued slowly, « thare ain't no bars ncr catamounts now; why did n't yo' lie down beside a fence er m a briar patch this warm night an' sleep ?'' " I was too scared." ^ " I saw something terrible " "What war it? Tell me what yo' saw." c. Tir?". *' ^ '^^^'^^ ^'*h a shudder. " Wha' wa' yo' ? " « In Bloody Hollow." up. .he boy .. ,„. .„,d „; abourefhi:: " ' ^^"' «" The„ „as a noise overhead, and then through a hole " What fo' yo' call Cupe, Ma'se ? " BlooryVo7e;.""£:t ^Z l^'-^' -'' — ^- The white-headed negro manifested no surprise. "I done tole yo' so, Ma'se," he said reflectivei;. u r "ggah in de fiah, de hoodoo tracks in de ashes, de tines 13 ^ Stringtown on the Pike dis nigger gaw an' hea'd when de chicken crowed las' night fo' midnight, tings what de white man doan know nuffin' 'bout, pinted t' de movin' ob de spell. Ma'se tings p'dicted am come. Ole Ma'se, yoah pap, sleep in Bloody Hollah an' den he died es Cupe said he would j de gearl sleep in Bloody Holla>>^ an' now de boy am heah. De end ob de spell am nearly come." " What air yo' talkin' about, yo' black scoundrel ? " muttered the " Corn Bug." " Nebbah yo' min', Ma'se, dah ain't no use in bor- rowm' troub'l; nebbah yo' min', Ma'se; de spell will end fo' yo' when de yeah ends, an' den yo' an' ole Cupe mus' part." ^ " Talk sense, Cupe, talk sense j I told yo' to come down out ov your loft, not because I want any ov youah gobhn nonsense, nor any ov youah nigger signs, but ter tie up the scratches on this youngster's feet ; can't yo' see he es tired an' sore an' scared nearly ter death ? Move, yo' black rascal, move ! " Old Cupe, muttering to himself, obeyed; he washed and bound up my lacerated feet, having first anointed them with a sweet-scented soothing ointment made of the resin of the sweet-gum tree. " Now for his supper," said the « Corn Due." « Stir yourself, Dinah ! " b r Then I noticed another form gather itself, as if it were created from the shadows. From the edge of the hearth, where, motionless, she had been huddled, an old black negro crone arose and silently busied her- self arranging my supper, which proved to be simple enough, but very sweet to the taste. Then when the task was done and the dishes had been removed, she slunk back to the shadows, and in the edge of the light- flittings, where the seen and the unseen blended, crouched 14 coundrel ? " Cupe's Story and the Omeri agj.- on the hearth, clasped her hands around her ankles, drawing them close to her body and rrH h chin on her knees Parf nf h». e ^' ^^^ ^^'^ firelight, pan w " bl!,.:.! u aTr' f'"''"'"' motionless, sUe„.l, eyeing™; Wh „"l tdTtl ma se, yo mus lis'n t whaf P..«= „ . means yo' well Di« „,1 u u ^^ ^"y^' "'^^ •« f " "eii. uis nigger hab nuss'd vo' sinrp vn' wah a little tot ; he hah ™i..j . . " " y° lef vo- chile wl "'"' ™f''.)"> ' honey. He nebbah .ion,'c: e LdTy'ro-t;' ";fr *'t"1.'" ""'""'- -d he ebah .ol^yo' ^V GoS^r ^^ Mase, de pr-achah nebbah spoke mo'ah seZs dan Cupe do now Qe signs p-diaed am come. Cupe h b kept t hisseY what ole Ma'se tole him in de o"e maf s.on house dat bu'n down ahftah Ma'se wah killed an" ^n/lT^:. "r '"■ y."' '• "now what 4et: . k,u J , y° ^" "•«» yeahs dan dis niiwpr hab done , an' what fo' should Cupe fool yo' M^fe Now white man an' nigger mus' not ,rv ,' ,. Prov'denre • an' A. •■ y ' eircumbent rrov aence, an de time am come fo' Cupe t' act case Cupe am done gwine f tole yo' sump'n' now wh« no ,in„ ; u ' l"'^ ""P' "'^ " "ik chile- Niaht- .in,e come he wah rac'n' ober de country cotch'n c«n dancn'^hindigs gwine ter places wha h'e nebbah oZt' memberLc-' an"'" "" '" "T "" °" ^"^' '"'■' "-'• memberlec , an doan intend t' memberlec'. Wall one wTbein'ln "L j' r?r "^'' 8'''"' *■« -■ -fe co'n Cune r • t '^■^''^ ""^ home an' say .' Cupe. Cupe, lay ,n de back logs an' gi, de mansior L >5 t0 ' I liillill iiiffii • Stringtown on the Pike order ; fer on de las' day ob de yeah dah '1 be a wed'n\ an' yo' niggers '11 hab a missus.' 'Fo' de Lawd, diJ nigger wah s'prized. He wah not 'quainte* wid all de signs den, else he would hab seed de ebil com'n'." A low chant, melody without words, negro melody that harmonised strangely with Cupe's pathetic expres- sions, arose from the lips of the sh«dow-clad old crone. Evidently her mind was vibrating j unison with Cupe's words, and until the chant died a.vay old Cupe stood silent. Then he resumed : — " Howsumebbah, Cupe knowed some tings, an' he say t' ole Ma'se : ' Ma'se, doan bring trouble on yoah head.' Ole Ma'se ansah : » Yo' brack rascal, why cain't one man marry es well es 'nuddah ? ' *'T ain't dat Ma'se,' Cupe say: »de marryin' is all right, else de* good Book would n't .ay so. // am de time. Nebbah marry on de las' day ob de yeah, lessen yo' want trouble, it am a slap in de face ob Prov'dence, Ma'se. Wait one day longah, Ma'se ; all de niggers 'II tole yo' trouble come lessen yo' lis'n t* 'vice.' "*What a nigger know 'bout Prov'dence." Damn yoah nigger nonsense ! ' say ole Ma'se. " An', suah nuff, when de las' day ob de yeah come he did marry Missus Alice, yoah mudder, one ob de sweetes' creatures. Lawd ! Lawd ! chile, but she wah a honey f But all de niggers shake der heads an' slip away de wed'n' night, an' stan' roun' gloomy-like, an' whisper t' demsels, an' suah nufF nigger sign come out right ; an' de end ob dat mistake ain't come yet. Nebbah mo'ah did Ma'se hab any luck. One night de bahn buhn ; next winter six ob de best niggers done run off t' Canerdy ; dem fool niggers. Den ole Ma'se gits cross an takes powerful strong t' his cups, an' night ahftah night dat sweet young missus would hab t' sleep in her 16 cape's Story and the Omen big room wid Aunt Dinah on de flo' by de bed, an' olc Cupe on de flo' by de doah outside in de hall An' missus would cry herse'f t' sleep, an* in de mahn'n when ole Ma'se come home swearin' an' cross, she honey deah, would fro her arms 'roun' his neck an' ~ oh ! wall, Ma'se, what 's de useob memb'h'n eb'ryting f " "De honey deah, de honey deah!" moaned Dinah; " bress de sweet chile." "Shet yoah mouf, Dinah; dis am no time fo* blub nn' niggers," Cupe rudely said ; and then con. tmued : " So at las', one stormy night ole Ma'se git on horse- back an nde ofF t' de tab'n, an' dat night yo' come inter He world, Ma'se honey. Bress de soul ob yoah deah angel muddah. When de nigger what go fo' ole Ma'se hn h.m, he wah playin' keards at de tab'n an' he cuss an swar case de nigger say missus wan' him quick, an' nebbah a step would he move till mahn'n come; an' jes befo ole Ma'se step in de doah de angels carry de sweet missus out Ob de windah. She lib only a few hours ahftah she see de face ob her baby chile. Yo' am dat chile, Ma'se. De doctah know she could n't las', an' he ax her ef she hab any word t' say befo' she go t' glory ; an' she say say yes, an' ax fo' Cupe. « Lawd, Lawd, Ma'se ! dat wah awful hard times. Cupe take his shoes ofF, an' tiptoe in de room, an' kneel down by de bed, an' cry like a baby, an' say veiy gentle- hke: *Fo' de Lawd, honey, Cupe ain't t' blame fo' de troub 1, case he wahne' Ma'se ob de ebil what come ob marrym on de las' day ob de yeah.' An' she say, berry weakhke: *T ain't dat, Cupe; yo' alls am yinnercenT What I wan t say am 'bout tings wot comes heah- of ah. Den she say : ^ Cupe, when I am gone, dis little yinnercenr babe won't hab no muddah an' de Lawd 17 I H ii ■. !t ■■: Stringtown on the Pike ' only knows what kind ob a fahdah ' r u , an' makeno ansah, fo' what couM h ^''^ '^""^ ''''^^ cry an' cry Den m; ''^ '^>' ^ ^"' ^'e only J ^ " "^ i^awd, missus, I nromi.:*. ' n • "y : * Cupe, yo' is a nigger an^ .M '"'""' what dey wants t', but yo'^no^ a1 P '^-^''^ ""'^ ^"^ fam'ly nigger, an' vo' wHI nlL u u "'^'S""* X«' '« « nebbah nfus' yo' lebe dT. hf ^ ^' '°'^' "^^^^''•' ^n' Ob ^ chile.. '^:^it^Tt:'^r '' ^r nebbah de weddah shall be too hot n kk u ""''"' ^^' A 1 ' "aa n t nuffin pl«f» »» j-» »» discourse and thi. i^^' . ^ ^"P^ '^"PP^^ his interruption. "««!»" mere had been no " An' den de doctah, he sav • t r..^^ i . . Cuoe • ' an' ^« ^ . t ^ ■ ^"P^» % ^c han' back '^"pcj an de doctah eo snf'Iu *■» j« j l . "'^^*-, Dinah „,„ h,, g<,„, f° -f y ^e f' .' D-^T' ' * Take de chile Hinok » >^ * Dinah: den he s^otve^?' i:" """^.'"^ ^ ' ""' like missus go f sleep Xn.r T '''' '"'"' '"'J'" niin-, an- de'doca sTyT . Yef c'uoe r^."" "" An- den ole Cupe ,ool del 'a.'aTCan-V T'^-' deah young ^^^^^ „^^ "' ^» f«e an see dat de aeaa. Her sweet spirit had not permitted to do. '^'^ ^' ^''^ ""^'er's children were iS he keep still an he only bah yo* lebe An' Cupe Den missus -rs can't do ger, yo' is a bbah.i An' fb' de good missus dat too cole, t' )s'm. An* ik-like, an* a kiss'n', Ise t' do." he hearth, one of the •litary wit- topped his ii the last been no lan' back, ca/i Aunt Dinah : ny;' an' ow easy- : off her i' wake.' ;e dat de }irit had Id slaves. Iren were Cupe's Story and the Omen gone t* glory while ole Cupe kiss de han' ob de missus what wah. " An' Cupe moan and cry an' do doctah come an' say, monstrous sah'ful-like : * Doan yo' know, Cupe, dat she am happy now ? Dah ain't no swar words, dah ain't no tab'n, dah ain't no coon dawgs yelpin' all night wha* she am now.' Cupe say : *■ 'T ain't dat, Ma'se Doctah ; case she am gone t' glory, de Lawd knows she am happy now ; 't aint dat -- but de cbil sign.' ' What ebil sign ? ' say the Doctah , an' Cupe say : ' Trouble, pile on top ob trouble ; fo' de deah missus is done gone t' glory an* Cupe had de han' kiss'n' it like es it wah alibe. No wussah sign could be. God help the chile, Ma'se Doc- tah ! God help de blos'm ! ' i An' de doctah could n't no moah ansah sech argyment dan de preachah kin. He say, says he : ' Nigger signs air nigger signs.' " Now Ma'se honey," Cupe said, suddenly addressing the " Corn Bug," " Ma'se honey, hab Cupe not done what he promis'd yoah deah muddah ? Hab he ebah lef ' yo' ? Hab he not stuck closer t' yo' dan a tick sleep'n' b'hin' a dawg's ear ? Hab de weddah ebah be'n too hot er too cole fo' Cupe t' sarve yo' ? Hab yo' ebah got any sarse words back when yo' cuss ole Cupe ? Ma'se, yo' know dat ef yo' had done what Cupe wanted, yo' would hab been well edye'cate' an' a fine gem'n like Ma'se Manley am. Yo' knows dat ole Cupe trot ahftah yo' from de day yo' wah a chile until what yo' air now, an' hab begged an' prayed dat yo' lis'n t' Cupe when yo' go on de wile track." " Yes," conceded the " Corn Bug ; " « yes, Cupe, yo' hev been a good nigger." " Wall, what fo' Cupe lie now, Ma'se ? What fo' 1 No worse omen could appear than for a chicken or animal of any kind to die in one's hand. Old Cupe received a fearful stroke when he held that dying hand. :| j I ' ni I lia Stringtown on the Pike Cupe say tings dat am not so ? Lis'n M»\. u Wh „ ole Ma-se heah da. argymen. he lis'n' ,i Jaj)" t Cupe, Cupe, Uk am mighty onsartin'. Ni^er Zn er no nigger s,g„, life am onsartin', an' I .^J^cLTl might es well e« nr^t f^ii . . guess, »^upe, 1 v^oh jj u *^"^ y° son^e tings t' do in case ; 'tVS.T.™ "f L,"°' '=' '"-'"""^ «r, i^ . • u. ' ^' "J"^"'^ Ma'se, says he, « nie- sar„l' "?"'=•""='''"'>, niggers am not fools. 'Sides ' sTllut'T-r -'^^^'^ '-^M^m^eT'sot* gt solium like, an' say, savs he- t r,.,>» -r . • ^ :t^r:r-hr:af:ndd?^-^^^^^^^^ i L he'n a''f:oV^°;;,^a:f ^' iTn":: rardir. Lr- qu^t, case et air pleasant-like now t' be a fool R..! ' hab stuck t' me an' t' de rh;i« . ? • "' ^^ when yo' wii;rn'*t'\e t ■" An' 'Z TVT papah out Ob his pocket an' Iv' savs he " n . t ;:ns^rfri:'-''''---""-r-! ^Tp/^an'-rid^rhirs^; back .^Ik,' he l'"'fDra' ''" "' ^°"" ^''' - - an' dat a,; t' sti^k .' d^fhile" '" ""^ ""^ '"' '"' '' ""• d„'T'^"? I ""'• '^''"- I <'°n' P™n>ise de missus dat de night de angels come.' 30 Cupe's Story and the Omen « * Stick t* de chile, Cupe,' he say. An' den de Ma'se stop talkin' an' walk off. " So much fo' yoah pap, an' now fo' yoah gran'pap an' my pap." " Go on," said the " Corn Bug." " Wall, yo' knows es well es Cupe, dat ole Ma'se, yoah pap, wah killed in Bloody Hollah, an' he wah tole by Cupe dat he would be killed likes he wah, jes es Cupe tole yo' 'bout dis boy comin' t'-night an' de gear! com'n' de day dat she did come. Howsumebbah, dat doan consahn yo' jes now. What I gwine t' say con- sahns ole Ma'se's fahdah, de fit'n Colonel ; he wah yoah gran'pap, an' my pap wah his nigger, jes es Cupe air yoah nigger. An' what pass' between ole Colonel, yoah gran'pap, an' my pap, yoah fahdah nebbah know'd, case the sign wah not right an' Cupe could n't speak widout de sign ; but now de sign p'dicted am heah, an' Cupe gwine t' tole yo' 'bout what yo' nebbah 'spected in all yoah bohn days. " Ole Ma'se's fahdah (yoah gran'pap) say t' Cupe's fahdah (my pap) long years ago : * All dese lan's b'longs t' me; all ober behin' de big woods is mine; all dis part ob dis country is mine.' Den he took pap to his iron trunk w'ich he brought from Mexiky wha' he wah fit'n 'long wid Ma'se Butler, who lib' in Cah'lton — de chist what nebbah no libbin' soul 'cep' de ole Ma'se had seen into befo', an' he op'n it an' say, says he : * Dese heah papahs am deeds fo' all de lan's yo' can see if yo' clime de highest tree on de plantation. Now', says he, * if dis heah son ob mine doan tuhn out good — an' he doan promise much, an' Lawd knows I hain't done much need'h t' make him good — yo' keep dese papahs till he dies ; den gib 'em to voah be Cupe ; an' tole him what t' do wid em. He am a fam'ly nig- 21 ! IJiii Stringtown on the Pike ger an* won't be sol' R.,i- «r ... yo- can gib hto lie papahs a7Jl^ "' "'' "■"""• dat he showed nao a ^nf i, t" ^^ "«>ney.' Wid ■spaced .■ see t 7^ Cnl':'- ^"^ '' ' """'^'- =«y so. Now yo- knows ho 'v-p'"' "" ''' '«" knows, Ma'se honey da^ yo' nebbaThT'^T''' " ^°' «.ady, so da. Cupe'jould /o^w 'ot M -s t."T pap an yoah gran'pap, so Cupe hab jes ken' A. l my pap kep' dem • an' a/ "^° J^« '^^P de papahs es beL Vaitin'^fo' dT;i ,n an' n??' '"' '^ ^^^^^^^ '^^^ u wk . . "^ *'g"> an now de sign am heah " was .ore L^Z „" rr^.h! 't '"T" """ "= « De sign what folks datdoan bleb/ " '° "''""• see," Cupe replied, « bu. dese ,wo th; lun '^"'k"'''"? up in de sien : Cum b,k a , "" "'^'' """^ wjen de su'n ^ahTinLt daTdis'tar^bo!: ""^u"^""^'' when de ba. flap, an' de owl ho ,•.; t^^^^f^a^r Hollah would mix itse'f ,>» • 7* Bloody fam'ly?" "sef agm ■„ de consahns ob dis ProvMence^Ma-se daT'' ■ "'. "^^^ " Doan .emp- know, tings t^Veacths^'U'-rJ; 0^11. 'T" -rar.t;:-hi"r:::rr^^^^^ ".gger sense ain. al.ogeddah same Twhim ' e^ 22 ' "•"•■•IH' act like a man, money.' Wid :h es I nebbah He," said the iron chest, an' then" e ; nebbah yo' )b dat ; it goes 1, case de sign mtinued, " yo' t> be'n settled a'se axt. De itah ob' yoah de papahs es 2 papahs hab ri Hcah." asked the awed that he red to admit, signs nebbah I wah mixed day, Ma'se, would come 'dat Bloody ihns ob dis itted. >oan temp' chah doan ob books; ■ned folks, ger; 'case m's sense ; Cupe's Story and the Omen an' dah air tings a nigger can't splain de how an' whah- foh ob t' white folks, 'case white folks' sense ain't 'zac'ly like nigger sense. Kin de dawg 'splain how he cotch de trail ob de coon ? Need'h am all niggers de same. S'pose Cupe should try t' show dese half white niggers, poo' mean trash, what my gran'pap larn from his ole mammy, who bring dat sense wid her out ob de hot Gol'coast 1 country, what could Cupe do ? Nuffin'. Might es well try ter teach white folks es sech niggers.' Ya, ya, ya," he chuckled. " Now, sit still, honey, sit still, an* Cupe will show yo' sump'n' what '11 s'prize yo'." » Gold Coast, the part of Africa Cupe's grandfather came from. 23 ii CHAPTER III THE LOST DEED JJE clo«d and locked the door, then untied the cur- «n.ng n,e to fo.iow ^^"^0 enedTh"e ^2:7^ a >ayer of bright /o^co Js If": Th Cu^rr'aT"' pieces and then secured a LraP maa^ ^ ^^"^ With age, covered .^ted 'Z oftt ^r^hl whe. C„,, .Heed the papet ,„/t'7Z L''^; fo. yl^. "" ' '^^'' '" go''. Ma'se, de goP am no. Th::hr.rtr.rptr.:^^^r;ff wahl:,' T'n^Ap" "i'' ^P^' ""-= -Sn says da, yo' wah not , read d,s papah; it wah to be read h„ de b-v who w de sky cross in Bloody Hollah." "' "^ 24 The Lost Deed " Here 's the boy," said the " Corn Bug," " but I hai n't heard him say nuthin' 'bout no sky cross." Old Cupe turned toward me, and as he did so the ne- gro crone half rose from her place and leaned partly out of the shadows. " Tole us 'bout de sky cross yo' saw," said Cupe. I shook my head. " Dah wah a cross in de sky, an' a cross on de earf, chile ? " I nodded. " An' yo' saw de hant ? " " Yes, yes, I saw it." "An' mu'd'h'n?" "Yes, and murdering, too." " De cross am gone, an' de blood am gone an' dried dese yeahs dat 's gone, but de hant move on. Back t' yoah place, Dinah, yo' brack fool ! " Dinah sank into her former position, and Cupe turned to his master. " De boy what see de cross am t' read de papah, hab not Cupe done tole yo' ? An' de boy what seed de cross am heah." The " Corn Bug" seemed not to be surprised at the corroboration I gave of Cupe's prediction. " Adzacly," he said, " adzacly." I took the document and after laborious study managed to decipher it. Even then none of us understood more than the general purport of the paper. But old Cupe had faith in its authenticity. He exultingly cried, when I had laboriously spelled out the last word : "Cupe done tole yo' so, Ma'se; now what yo' got t' say 'bout de tracks in de ashes, an' de figgah in de fiah, an' de uddah tings what Cupe saw, an' yo' couldn' t understan' an' will nebbah know how he saw dem ?" "Why didn't yo' give me that paper long ago?" 25 Stringtown on the Pike demanded the "Corn Bug." « Wh.r, 1. these things ? I hev seen „.J w • " y° '''P' often." '"" '"'"'= "-et empty old chest growing more serious, added ■ " """ '^"P^- Dele^hinJ-'r t-ZltrrKr' ^"O' •" P-- t' yoah long home DatT ^ "' ^'''"'' '"' y' " S" home am suah ."c'omf r ^ "" "" "' ""'^'' <<= '»"g ^g'in t>-day, an> deTol. "^ ""''"''' ""^ «''^'' ^^^^ » fee. fJi^e WrohVtr °Dah """ '™' '""' coffin undah dat limb *uah,In' vo^fn ' '?■" '"' " ">an what sot out dat cedah ,«" "° '"' ""■• ''' " plamv' 1f.'''T """"'" "«' spring." dah. but" ; ::' .."Lti'" "v^" ^-'■'"- ^'•■-« "e "hat -s pLteT Hab „!^ r"" I,"" " "">"'' ''' " "•« suah t- come^'de man ^ ''' '''"'' '"'^ y' '"' --ha, 's "hen de robiL floTn:„.h ."V"' ' "'"" ' ^a'se. nex- March an" talk in H^. T" '" ^^ "'icket -n-t heah de ch^in" tct""? '';"'"'' ^<«'' '" drips in de Feb'uarv .Id ' . " '*' ^"^^ "atah sweetness ob de ap an v ',; ^" '""«■" "°"'' «^« de -ess Ob de sun a^Jlh ^^ "^' "'""'' ^'=^ <<= bright- ^"ow melt in dVspHn! r . TT "'""• ''''"' ^"' <<« dat come out ob de 1V° """' """■'• ^"' <" ""'ff ord^t'o'sate m;°Hg"'' ^^.'L ' -"'" f P "reathin- i„ " Suah yo' wfll ton hT^ • " "«" '^'' ^^^yhing-" yo will stop breevm- 'case de dawg Dgawge of his coffin. '"" '"^ '°*er l»mbs grew to be the length 26 The Lost Deed Wash n t n see yoah ha.t an' de cedah limb on de tree yo sot .m long nufF t' cubah a coffin. De tree Im sTe/' R ^7: '" ''^''^ ^"' '' ^P^^^ «- waitin' n d" shed. But dah am mo'ah t' say t' vo' fo' He uAAoi. sayda. o.e Cupe, „ho nebbah Jesah'ted o- St:?.: be by yo- s,de when de las' call am made. Yo' wffl hab comp'ny, Ma'se, comp'ny heah when yo' stan an' com p-ny on ae „ay dahaboues. Cupe doa'n 'te!,d V "a^ L" wha yo ajr gwme er how long de new partner 'U stick t yo an de sign doan say wheddah de landin' place am ho. er cole But when yoah heah. am still an' de mou7 am shet t,gh^ de eyes am closed ahftah de silver qua'tahs am taken off, de heels air close t'geddah, an'T «s p. n. up, when de cubbah ob de box'am screwed down at £r- d '"' > '°''' '''^' "'«'"• An' when P au- laid n de groun' undah de cedah tree yo> planted close bes,de yo' deah muddah, who res. undah'^de IM, ob de weepm- w.ller, an' who go .' gl„^ when yo' wah bohn, oie Cupe •« be dah. Be.uh yo' begin .' 1 ZTy fo dem .mgs wha. is p'diced an' be..ah yo' m'ake ^o'- sef good „,d de pahson, 'case de pahson am migh.'!, mixed m yoah afiirs, Ma'se, an' dese chillun am mLd too. De signs wahn'. quite clear when Cupe read dem da. n,gh., dab wah shaddahs, but de omen on he h^ done m,x de affairs ob yo' an' de pahson. Doan yo' know, Ma'se dat when yo' fin' dis baby gearl on de her mate 1 to llah 'case de sign say so.' an' hab yo' not done growl an' cuss ole Cupe an' cuss de sign, ah, doan yo lub de Chile now like she wah yo' own, ho„ey% Z ain't de boy heah now ? " . -ey . an "Nigger nonsense," said .he "Corn Bug" "•T ain't safe .' 'fy solium' tings; bettah shat- h^n's wd de pahson, Ma'se, nebbah min' de nigger nonsense. 27 f Stringtown on the Pike make fren's wid de pahsin, case dah come a time when de^pahson skeah off de fiah bran' an' keep off de dTbbU Wh J '"' "°T "'' ^l' ^''''°" J°"« ''^ his mummery When next I see the pahson, I 'II show yo' howTmak^ friends with his likes." "De signs am, Ma'se," continued Cupe, heedless of h. master's scoffing, «dat Cupe '11 stay in e bin ah^ah yo' am gone; He gearl '11 stay, an'^de boy 'H c'm^ come ag',„ f de cabin in de night-time D. « '^ sh.nin- on both dere heads, but ^1^ am riL^" d" hr:iir^::,!i- ■" ^-^. -y. cupe"am .^n .hrrut:m:v:d''hrfi!: """' 'i" """■ '"■~*«' to read fror^f i. ^"' ""^ "" '"'•''"^ «eming ^o' ,• I\ ■" '" "■""''''' '"' SO from de cabin: she flo- bet d?b " ""• !r I ■"« '""'^■- ^"^ ""•«' 0" de hanwlt \' u**' '"'y <^"'"»h» his face wid his nan s an shakes hs head" wuu , . . ^'Detr lfbei"S * " rSon de tt-r^n-^'tCat d'etr-^e^^-^ -"• sah ful, an her eyelids am swelled ; she come haclr .' de 28 The Lost Deed cabin an' cry an' moan, an' t'row her . , — — ..v» arms 'roun' ole brack Cupe s neck, an' den she an' Cupe go up t' de mount'ns^ Bress yoah soul, chile; bress yoah soul, honey ; God bress yo', honey j God bress yo' ! " Ole Cupe arose and picked up the child, hugged her to his bosom and stroked her dishevelled hair with his bony fingers, before he returned to his incantations. Another period of mummery with the ashes and Cupe ' laughed aloud : "De clouds am gone, an' de sun shine, but It shmes fru brush. De chillun am t'geddah in de ole Kaintuck Ian'. T'ank de Lawd, Ma'se I " ex- claimed the old negro, then suddenly he drew back and stared into the embers, saying to himself: "What's de meanin' ob dis ? Smoove dem ashes out, Dinah, 'case sump'n' am wrong wid de sign." Suiting her actions to his words, Dinah leaned over and smoothed the ashes with her long, bony fingers, then sat m the shadows, swaying her body back and forth, humming a soft, low song without words. I crept timidly forward, and gazed over the shoulder of the kneeling seer. I saw that he took three short bits of brown straw and laid them parallel on the perfectly smooth ash surface, the fragments being about three inches apart. " Dah am a new face stan'in wha' de boy stood, it air a boy wid a red head. Dis am de newcomah, de red-head boy," he said, pointing to one straw; "dis am de boy out ob Bloody Hollah," pointing to the second straw; "dis am de honey gearl," pointing to the third. Then, as he spoke. It seems to me that I saw a marvellous thing- — that a perfect coffin-like tracing form crept about 'the straw of the newcomer, and then that straw caught fire. Old Cupe chuckled, pointing to the straw which repre- sented myself. After a lapse of some minutes this also became surrounded by a similar mark that grew before 29 Stringtown on the Pike my eyes; then it began to burn an^ ,t upon .he floor and r:<^Z: uZ^Z f:Zs""t d.d no. .n-erprc .he resul. of his i„ca„,a. oTXr .h" hand "Chr:'"' ?r^^ly -<>«, and .ook „^ by'he Hand . Chile," he said, « yo 'U sleeo in J, K.J . • asnes, and I caught the wo-H* • u n..^ u . confiderce in his iud.Ln,T ^'' "'''° ''""'' ™P"^i' that would come fol ' "^^ "^ ">= <«»«'" stoWea con^rrtt ZZ^:^ Z^l^Jr^ been held concerning its final effect Th. i T . ddibe^Hons of the fudge had i^^^ted"^ at'^^^m t^Tr r^ "■ *" '""''• "»'' ""^ inference was "up surv^or had run a series of lines about the section named ,„ the will, and had made careful caL aZ^ i^Lf ttntrL?;. ^""'"^''^ -" -^ ^- ' " The paper which I hold in mv hand Jc ^ v • • :t"o'jJ""'' ^"?"'^ -' cist" Ste't^ornd s::r^s7r^r nJgVerr^ '- -" thelawsofVirrinia.wl^I. i?-n,uck- nf^ ""''" , vv..!„ rs^vntucky was still a part of 36 Judge Elford's Decision that territory. The boundary of the land included in this survey is exactly located as follows : " ' Beginning at the great boulder over Clear Spring, thence east to the blazed road in Fowler's Valley, thence north to the fork of Bear's Creek, thence west to Fow- ler's Valley, thence south to the starting-point.' Now, Fowler's Valley passes diagonally through this territory* and the description is otherwise in exact conformity with the present landmarks, known by the same names. Since a line run by the county surveyor at my request demonstrates that the land embraced in this military claim covers about five thousand acres, there is in my mind no doubt but the survey is authentic. However, a discrepancy involving many acres would not discredit the title, for the early surveyors of Kentucky made no allowance for hills and valleys or for unequal surfaces, and, indeed, owing to the abundance of land, cared little about precision of survey, taking care only that enough was given. For example, one Kentucky patent, cited in a recent court decision, which called for four thousand acres, actually embraced over nine thousand acres ; and some lands, as many persons have found to their distress, have been granted by patent two or three times. These old military titles have always been a source of great trouble in Kentucky, and purchasers and settlers have found themselves continually confronted with the fact that their possessions had been previously granted to others or were claimed by others. " In order, therefore, to overcome this confusion and to establish clear titles, corrective legislative acts were passed from time to time, first by Virginia and subse- quently by Kentucky. In 1796 it was laid down that adverse possession of the land for a period of twenty (20) years constituted ownership and completed the title. 37 m Stringtown on the Pike equitable, for .„ many cases large tmcts of land were actually stolen by virtue of the opportunity that the mi ! chevous law created, and in .851, the following™, reeve act was passed : ' An action for the recovery of real propeny can only be brought within fifteen Tears after the nght to msftute it firs, accrued to the plaLiff or the person through whom he claims." Legal con! tests by reason of these surveys and legal ena«mems have probably cost the landowners of Kentucky mo"e in Ae^aggregate than the entire realty of .he Comm'onrahh " Now, under the twenty-year possession act of .706 ite'XreT'"'" ^^.•'■=,~ ""^^ considerL^^n," were the e no exceptional circumstances, would have been outlawed long since and the warram of Colonel Hardman would have no value whatever, but cenaTn IhethlJa ; /"• °^ '"5'- ^''^^ " questionable he heir True, Mr. Hardman has never held posses- ion „f, he land, but his dispossession has been fromno 1 nt His"""' 7f J'^ 'n"" "" '" '"^ "■"= P-"-- land L„" ^""^''''"^ "•« "Id eolonel, located .he hnd propery, obtained a military warrant for it and ^corded this warrant, as I find, in the Virginia La^d Office, where the fact slumbered unseen. He placed he document in the hand of an irresponsible pa„y, instmcting him under certain conditions to give i. toZl son at a certain time This was not done, but, instea the paper was handed .0 another irresponsible party, and ha now turned up after three-quaiters of a cen^Ly. The old colonel could not foresee the course .he paper would take, ,he son knew nothing about .he do^u! 38 i ;m-W,*^,SPiai*. ,, Judge Elford's Decision ment, neither did the son's son, the present heir, who presented it to me at once on its discovery. The deed has not been neglected by any responsible party ; the inheritors, in ignorance of their possessions, have lived constantly on other possessions that lie adjacent to part of the land described, while strangers have profited from Its use. The question is, will the court dispossess those who are now in possession in order to give the rightful heir his just inheritance, or will the court take from Mr. Hardman a property of. which, through no act of his own and no intention of his ancestor, he has been deprived these many years ? In my opinion, the land should in equity revert to Mr. Hardman, but we have here an extraordinary condition that can only be decided by the Court of Appeals." The judge ceased, and silence such as seldom fell over the members of the circle ensued. Perhaps each man was waiting for his neighbour to speak ; perhaps all alike realised the significance of that momentous power resting with the court of last resort. Then Mr. Nordman, the old gentleman from above Stringtown, arose and moved toward the door, but stopping a moment, without any display of emotion, remarked: " Ther comes a time. Judge, when a piece of cold iron is mightier than the law; and if this old deed takes in my land, I now warn all within hearing that I will not be dispossessed. My father and mother lie in the graveyard back of my house, two children of my c vn sleep by their side, and a spot under the willow is marked for Mrs. Nordman and myself to rest in. I do not fancy being buried in a public graveyard, and damn me if I will be buried in another man's land. When the sherifF steps into my front gate he must come armed, suh. It will be a fair fight, and as I am getting old and 39 Stringtown on the Pike stifF, my hand may miss its mark, but if it does I will sleep under my own wilJow-tree. Tell the sher^ ' ^'" men, that when he comes to dslsess mf T k" propery my father earned, he mustT^: dyl tl'l bead the minute he steps inside the gate, suh " wTl courteous bow the old gentleman left th; room. " 40 I [will ;ntle- the aw a ith a CHAPTER VI THE DILEMMA OF THE " CORN BUG " PXPRESSIVE glances were cast around the circle -"-^ when Mr. Nordman passed out, and the grocer remarked in an undertone: "I don't envy the sherifF his job ; the old man shoots like a ranger. I will bet a boss he don't sleep under the tree." Then the circle lapsed into silence. Many hearts were heavy over the disclosures the judge had made, and he, too, felt the gloom that settles over one who, having economised his earnings until the period of rest should come to an industrious man, finds the savings of a lifetime likely to be swept aside by a penstroke. At last the « Corn Bug " spoke : " Jedge, I don't adzacly grasp all the pints ov yer speech, but I believe I kin see the drift ov the thing. Ef I catch the idea, this paper es ginuine, an' nigger Cupe told the truth. The land es mine ? " "That is my present opinion." « Now let me ax a quistion, Jedge. Ef I am right, the deed calls fer five thousan' acres ov land ? " " It does, Mr. Hardman." "The line begins at Clear Spring boulder, runs ter Fowler's Valley road, then ter Bear Creek fork, then ter Fowler's Valley cross-road, then back ter the boulder." " Yes, so the survey records." 4» Stringtown on the Pik< Thet takes in old Yes." man Sawyer's farm ? » 'Wall, Jedge," said the " Com Bug •• thoughtfully, « I ha.„ . much love fer the likes ov hi™, xlre ha „' no honest bone ,„ his body, an' et goes without sayb' the he cheated W.dow Longing out ov thet ven, fZ. Y„ see, Jedge, w.th all respect ter the cour.,The law helped old Sawyer ter steal the land, an' nobody knowT et better than yourself, Jedge, but yo' needn^t b"! ter apologise now fer the law's wrongs, vo' would nef^ g.t through Oh, wall, the widder died in 2 TZ house an- ef I hev my say, old Sawyer will trot in th« calls fer the Humses boys' farm ' " ."wif"'''' ""!.'■ '''"" '" ™" 'he centre of the plat." "Wall sense them fellers got home from colleae they ham't no 'count, nohow. They holds up thdr heads an' snuffs the air when they passes common f^s They talks too highfalutin' fer sensible folks, anyway hey puts a „^ on their 'lasses an ' a ;» onThd .ate., an' s„ngs on style like as though fheir grandtd had n t worked ■„ a deadenin'. This part of th! worid a.r'. good -nough fer sech stuck-up people GuZl won^t care ef they hev ter move out'ov this ec^on, an' I takes et nobody else will c^- their eyes out. How- alTflr'thl f '°T yV" ''"'6^' Does the de^d can ter the village, Jedge ? " " Yes Here is a rough map of the claim. This crossmark represents Stringtown." " Every lot, house and barn." "Who would hev thought the nigger knew so much. I 11 be a rich man, Jedge, a very rich man." 42 The Dilemma of the " Corn Bug »> i The judge nodded his head. « The teacher's lot ?" "Yes." « The tavern lot ?" " Yes." " The two Miss Ruby's lot ?" " Yes." " The widder's ?" queried the « Corn Bug," glancing at me. The widow was my mother. "Yes." "Yerownlot, Jedge?" "Yes." " Gewhillikins ! And the graveyard ? " " The graveyard, too, but not the tombstones." "Tombstones, Jedge, ain't fit fer nothin' but side- walks ; those who wants 'em kin take 'em off my ground. Wall, I '11 be a rich man, Jedge ; I kin eat what I wants ter, I kin drink what I wants ter." The judge smiled and a forced laugh went around the circle. "Jedge, I don't want the two Miss Ruby's lot. These girls I hev known sense they were tots. They speak sof'ly ter me, Jedge, an' et kinder makes me ashamed ov myself— when I drinks too much I don't like ter meet 'em then. Yo' see, Jedge, I sometimes drinks too much." " So I have heard." « Wall, et don't matter, I won't hev thet lot. Neither does I want the widder's property. Sammy," he called, « come here. Bub." I obeyed, and he placed his hand on my head and stood looking me in the face. " Does yo' 'member the day when three boys found me layin' in the briar patch in the back paster ? Does yo' know thet the other brats mawked an' called me 43 Stringtown on the Pike names, never mind what— I Irln '.«- u , in my cups ? " ^'" "'^"'^" ^m ef I was " Yes, sir." 'r'.nlZZttt ■"'''""' P'^'4ad„i„ed .he •ddycate h™ Jf ^^^.i^""' ^rV""". ""'"""' '■-"-^ '" work an- he must Wn ho» , T' '"°"^ '"""Sh ter lives Vctable Make !! " T*'"' *■<""=» =f >>' Sonny/ Re.emb„.1 d« X I d'""":; " "'^"^S-, house es """ '"• '» '".art '-e -r>r.LTusf"beTo:;-rr7r ■■"«"- - -He..„e.hetosr;^TK.tr;::^— 44 was The Dilemma of the "Corn Bug" rest in. I hev n't done nothin' fer nobody, an' I don't dc- sarve noth.n' from nobody, an' here I finds a loose plan- nXT T^''''^'^'' ^'^ ^^"ght a pile of larnin' ter others an made lots ov folks rich who hev used his larn- in , an he ham't got nothin' but a house an' lot ; an' ef these law fellers in Frankfort, who don't care a damn fer either ov us, says so, he's ter be kicked out an' I' m ter g|t the lot I don't want his lot though, an' I won't hev tavern l". U ' ^'"' ^" ^°'' ^'^^'^ ''''^''- ^"^ ^^e tavern, Jedge, the tavern." " Well ? " t}.llJ^"'u '^" P'r ^"^ •""' ^""^"- I "«^<='- b'l'eved thet I could g.t a chance ter live in a tavern; thet's the next th.ng ter flyin' through Heaven, Jedg . Howsom- ever, thare es somethm' ter say on t' other side ov every qu.st.on Ef I gits rich an' lives in a tavern then I kin I wi T- L ^ ""T' ^^ ^ ^''' ^" '^' J'^ker I wants, I W.11 dnnk so much licker I won't hev sense 'nough ter know when I wants licker. Ef I don't know nothin' an I won t ef I hves in a tavern, I can't want any more .cker, an I would es soon be dead es not ter want licker. This a.r a tough quistion, Jedge, fer sech a feller as 1 am ter conumdrate. "Now, es ter the graveyard. What good will a graveyard do me ? I hev stood with my hat off in thet graveyard m winter an' in summer watchin' buryin's. I hev seen mothers cry over their babies an' hev seen children kneel 'round the graves ov their mothers. I hev a graveyard ov my own behind the cabin, an' thet's nough for me. I never wants ter own a public grave- yard It es hard 'nough, Jedge, ter hear people sobbin' on their own property, an' ef I should own thet town graveyard I would feel es though all those crvin's ov or- phans an' sobbin's ov mothers were 'rouna me. I'd 45 Stringtown on the Pike dream 'bout 'em in the night an' r 'H k r , drink 'nough ter ei, haonv 1 . "'*"'•'' '" "" liclcer^reaL air very .cnsLv"?'' '" ' ""»" *'«> <»» science. He mJ^Z.T f """" ••" » '^'"'- con- Oe air in his cup elL heT """' '" "'^ """" " ">« W when et comes ter M, ' ""^ """"= <" pc«on don't o>v„ ,h° six f«, '^""';'"'' "«' ^^ " does he own. Et' do' 't^e: TeTthe' l" J"' ""« bring men an' women inter thT u f ^°'''' ""'"" full si« without KiWn ' '1 ' jT" '" 8™* ■«"> ter bones. I )ci„d„ fel there, r-^*" '" '•°''' ">.ir smnions ter say he owns th! 7x(J^ ^""' '"' P"" neighbour lies i'n ,„' who don'.^ant":/™""'' 1'^ '"'' by two. Guess, Jedge, the lalrii"\ '.""'" "* yard fer their fee: thev won', "P '''= 8">'«- -othin'i they hev „' tn^ Teelin'f "" T '" ""^ '""-< <•" ef the graveyard thei ^".hbr^ ' """'."' »"' ""n't care "Me, /ain't taiirn'iorh::!:" ". '""■'^'"■' "P- a^-n' ter my,e,f „ well. ^?'"::: 'Ter"' ''."', "" don't cast no reflections at „„k j ^"'J'^S', while I ter myself. Thare S 1 T ^ ^' "'" " '"'^ "r talk Slickum always J e ou.ZSr h" "":'; ^'^ ^O"'- no fool either. One rir^e I /t . 'I"'""^ '"' ""= ""'"'t fer. Yo' see, Jedie I Z '' *"" *''« *= did it I kinder wan.'ed tj;, '^ Z"'" '" "" '""' '>»''«, an' «y-"P-.he.creek pers'on asklT' ""'^ '" "" """^ cumstance. The Sn„ir. f . '^"nsarning the sar- fer three reasons F "t^h'.ll^d'" '"""" '" """"'f man, an' second, he £.' b '" '""' '" " »"»« be. forgotten tie ohe/rlwK V'T "■"" '"'"'■ ' liff'rence. You -all won' Take no" t'' ™'' "° «cu8e, an' I only asks v„' ! . ° "''*"« at my niy asks yo ter 'member thet I tell, ,h^ 46 The Dilemma of the <*Corn Bug" story es » an excuse, fer et air dangerous tcr say out loud ter others what one thinks ov lawyers. A man air never sure ov keepin' out ov their clutches. They air after everybody. Ef a fellow hain't gor nothin', he wants what ?r..,, ther feller has got, an* pays a lawyer ter help hin^ git it, a •' the lawyer never renigs. Ef he has got son ct) ^n', he has ter hire a lawyer tcr help him keep et. Et :».r fun ,y, Jedge, ain't et, thare air only one sure winn. , an' thet air the lawyer. I am talkin' at random ter myself, Jedgc, an' don't mean nothin' personal." "I know that you do not reflect on me," replied Judge Elford, " and I am aware that many attorneys do disreputable things in the name of the law. However, Mr. Hardman, were it not for the law, honest men would be the prey of designers. Take this case of your own as an example; in my opinion, the Court of Ap- peals will dispossess me, a man of law, of my life sav- ings, and, were I on the bench, and your case before me, no self-interest would influence in the least my de- cision." "I ax yer pardon, Jedge," said Hardman, « I war talkin' at random. I war not thinkin' ov the good yo* lawyers do, but ov the bad. I sometimes fergit? the good things what happens, but hangs onter the other side, an* thet air the fault ov other people es well es myself." * Pronounce the j as e. 47 Is CHAPTER VII "THE BEST OF THE npuir . THE DEVIL AND THE LAW TOO." finish in his own w4 '""'"'^ ''>' """"""S W-n to " Ef thet air deed air le^l T «,;ii u ™ybe too rich. Son,ehow oVW ,' ' ""^ "'•"'' '"'"■ feller ,er be too rich Z' , P ""■ <""""'« f'' » (holding up .hedged)' is co„e« ' ^'"7 1, l"'' """^ landlord an' own all hL . ' ■'^^^' ^ """ '>^"">e a "Thelawro^"*;!™""""*'-"""/'" "Every Win the village?" " Unquestionably." " Every farm inside these lines > " •• leZ ZH' "'"' T"""*' ""'' ^^'''^'■^• « vVfl ' ""P'' ""' ■■"' •" pay me rent > " « wjj ^°" "" "P^' ■'•em." " '■ schooUeatl^/XrhL rrT^' .-—deeper, " Yes." ^^^"ers, poor people, rich people ? " *' 1 won't hev ter wnrlr t i,- • my pocket an' take o^tf dollar 1^'. ""' ""' '""'' '" " Well, It looks that way " """'' '" ^ " He:\^:;^:^f/X;fbtg'ir^^^^^^^^ 48 SaSBBiBBBBa "The Best of the Devil, &c." " The law will give it to you if the Court of Appeals so decides." " Jedge, I hain't done nothin' on the tract, an' these other people hev cleared the land, barned the brush an' ploughed up the roots. Mr. Nordman told the truth, et ain't mine, law er no law." " The deed of your grandfather carries the land to his heirs." " Wall, p'r'aps yer law is powerful 'nough ter make et right, but et seems es ef et helps steal. I guess, though, I ain't ter blame fer the law's mistakes, an' ef the land es mine, why ov course I must obey the law. " Lord, folks, but I kin live high. P'r'aps et ain't best to live too high either. Sometimes now I lives too high an' sings too loud an' talks too much. Guess I hev talked too much ter-night. Ef I hev my pocket always full ov money, Jedge, won't I treat the crowd an' won't I punish the eggnog ! I'll be rich, awful rich. I'll hire a clerk ter collect rents ; I '11 sit in an office an' count money. Et must be awful satisfyin' an' elevatin' ter count money all day. I '11 wear store clothes on week days an' eat sardines, an' drink mint julips every day in the summer, an' eat oysters an' drink eggnog every day in the winter. I '11 build my office next ter the tavern. This paper hev raised my calculations high, an' I hev kinder been arguin' an' enjoyin' myself out loud. Thare air two sides ter every quistion though, es you hev said more than once, an' I hed better look a minute at the other side. "Jedge, I hev lived in this neighbourhood fifty years comin' next January. I hev worked on week days an' rested on Sundays, an' hev lived es well as I desarved ter do. I wears warm jeans clothes an' I never sufFers with heat er cold, lessen 1 am in my cups an' lays out. 4 49 Stringtown on the Pike know thet the rit,r «, i °' ^" » Jedge, yo' chiide™ Lie: .k: 1°, z ' -r '"^ -'"'" '-' pitied fer they hev ter m/u i I """" ""^ •" !» bear, hard o/ oL pelt "ol^ f™;' ""= ■"« would be the Widuer Drew ^h, "^ • *"' '" ^o -"• the next would be the omhan Rub" T,."" "*"" got no money. I knZ °Z„^ '^ ^ '' ""^ ^^'"'' the village w;oca„'r;;„:r„f zTi"":' r."'^ '" how village peopje dol'ake W '^ rich ' v^r =m g„i„. ,er be can', make no 'lowaC £1,^" ' ' "• g;;t out. Take yer house off The k; Th /"i "" "-eak, Jedge, an' I am afeard ef Ms deed , '■■ *' be good, I will make ri.l, ","'",''=«'' '""'s out ter ban' with thlaT second T "'" J"'' '"' ''"^' f ^Cst'Lt"a^tr^lV-:™ -. , Jork. nobody. P^^' '" "'" ' "'•i"' f '^ nothin' ner "An' this here paper," holding up the deed «J .1, dockyment what makes you-uns all thl? m 'r . ' '^^ ;; You understand its i"poT" ""'^'' ^^^^^ ' " " An' makes me rich ? " " J*"? "^''"'^ '""" •" the county." Am t thare no codv ? " « No." ^^ • n.e;?wrrerL'':eTrt/"/ '?" '"=' oysters when I wants 'e^ ^^^ ? eat sardmes an' "'-andiulip.air.hermmr.tLr.Tii:-'.'"' so -S;-f "The Best of the Devil, &€." ter git even with them Sawyers an' Humses an' a few other skinflints an' stucJc-ups. But I can't afford no disgrace ter my conscience. I don't want ter turn wid- ders an' orphans out ov their homes ; I can't take rent money fer Ian' I did n't earn, an' yet et 's an awful temptation ter the likes ov me." He opened the deed, looked at the red seal, carefully folded It and tied it again, stroked it lovingly, half thrust itinto his pocket, turned toward the door, then recon- sidereu, came back and drew the document out again " Et air an awful temptation, Jedge, ter the likes ov me. 1 tastes the eggnog now an' smells the julips." Then he stood meditatingly and silent. "Jedge," said Mr. Handman, at last, « I hev got the best ov the devil an' the law too, an' you-all kin go home an' sleep. The village ain't mine, law er no law, an I ain't a-goin' ter help the law steal. I gits drunk with my own money, which ain't no harm ter the likes ov me an' don't huit no other feller ner the Lord either but I never intends ter buy nothin' fer myself with the money I 've squeezed out ov widders an' orphans, an' I don't intend ter let the law make me a thief first an' a wretch second. Folks, I hev downed the devil, an' the law, which taken together air mighty hard fer a man ter do. I don't intend ter hev no fam'ly disgrace, an' I don't intend ter steal nothin'. Fellers, old man Nord- man won't hev ter shoot the sherifF." He opened the stove door and thrust the dry docu- ment into the blaze. A flash as of tinder, a pufl^ a twisting, blackening paper, and then — ashes. Those about drew back in amazement. " Yer kin go home an' sleep, folks," said the Corn Bug turning from the stove, " thare ain't no copy ter disturb you-all, an' thare ain't no tavern, sardines, eggnog SI Stringtown on the Pike an' julips fer the likes ov me. Come, Cupe, come, we don t hve m the hotel no more; it air gittin' late, i air ra.mn , an' the mud air deep b'twixt here an' the cabin." nl/p [u ?"^ " °P'"'^ '^' ^"°'-» ^"^ '°g«her with old Cupe stalked out into the darkness. !i!l 52 / , CHAPTER VIII THE STORY OF THE COLONEL "^EW Year's Eve, .^63, had been set" apart by -»- ^ the Village Circle as a special hoi: -'ay, the inten- tion of the members being " to see the old year out " and listen to the reading of a special paper by the pastor, Mr. Jones, which was to be replied to by Colonel Lu- ridson. The « Corn Bug " had « taken sick," as the doctor expressed it, the morning after the meeting men- tioned in the preceding chapter, and his illness proved to be serious. Too obstinate to care for himself, the eccentric fellow neglected medical aid, and acute pneu- monia, a common fatality in many parts of Kentucky, had followed, quickly succeeding an ordinary cold. Thursday, December 31, 1863, dawned warm and sultry. The thermometer registered seventy that morn- ing, and about noon a heavy mist settled over hill and valley. This was followed in the afternoon by a drizzling rain that sifted down in fine particles, which sopped the grass and stuck together the pendent dead leaves always clinging, during soft wi^ather in mid-winter, to the lower beech limbs. In the evening the members of the Stringtown Circle met according to expectation, but owing to the storm many of them were detained and straggled to their places. The " Corn Bug " alone was finally absent : as has been said, he lay dangerously ill in his humble cabin. The grocer's boy sat, as usual, behind the counter, ready S3 :j Stringtown on the Pike to take notes in shorthand on a rmirc of -^hv such as is used for wrapping tea nd J.. ^'"^' beneath the hanginc !amn ■ u f ^ ^at on a stool members or .he O^ u "Slei;:;; M °' 'I' ^^°^^^ who first presented thcm^l es f IhT " '"''''' hang over the Circle. "^^"^ ''^"^^^ *« T'he reserve was finally b. ^ken ',. ru- Smith, a bearded man ^h ! Chmney Bill -s bLharded never'to ct Tu -'"''''' ^°" ^^^^^^ ^:;.^ South was free Th^"' ^'^ ^^'^ ^ ^^'^'^^^^ "^'^ ^-iatin, the stoJof «I^ '"f" ''^'^'^ '^' Circle by -ster," the orT teller h ■ °f ^'"^ ™'' ^'^^'^ perso; well ^ n/po^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ °^ '"^ ^^^ one Kentucky .1 '^^ ^' '" ^^^ commonwealth of From the humorous sketch of CMnnev R:ii c • u • was apparently a Ions steo m fh T:^"""/ B.ll Smith it lowed, an essav on .T^ '^^ y was a monstrous eva ye th...ued with satire and fronv ^.i ' 'T """''^ humorous and •n .ts place the author believes^ttw 'c ^ :^.1^''5°™« dive«ion 54 i'»1e It from this book. ^ ^ V Si t>0 § s, bo ^ ■§ ,^ ^ tr re th lin in aw ho] at the gaz pasi fror face essa colo delit D< (( essaj on tl gam< W eyes befe 'Tis flint t haps J to fac . Fci unfinii chewe surrau -'-Trmiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiij, The Story of the Colonel trast to that of bald, spectacled Prof. Drake, the essayist read on uninterrupted and without pause until he reached the closing sentence : — cacnea "Let us think, then, of the end point of this drama hne W.11 falter, let us accept that it matters little whether n the mornmg or the evening it be that we take the hold of earthly problems." fa/ed ntli I' ?°' ''""'"S ^'^ ""■' °" h« hands S«!i u ^ "" "'' ""'"•• '^*"" W* questioning looic pass«l w,.hou, response successively around the ci cfe roTthr T "I""'/"'' """"^ ^«'=^ ^g-" o" e «say. Standing alone, gazing intently at the uori^ht colonel, the parson folded his arms acrL his chrand dehberately ,aid, looking directly into LuridsoJ's eyes •'Do you knojv, »y friend, you „ho are to reply ,„This oTLtT r*."'"^" y"" "' I -'" 'oosen'Lr hod ganle'oS"" ^^ ^^ P^P-- for the end of tte What play of thought sped from n>an ,„ man as th TfJtZTX' "T^ '""■' '" --■'^.^"t col- •Tis no/when sTee". itl stlTor"^"' «""^' ^^«- «in. that the «re «ies, hrihr's'teTmtrfl IT Tr^ haps^none present realized that such opposites ^'^e ftc: 55 p f Stringtown on the Pike I am very tcndah hearted. I JoM nTn\ ■'?"'"' '"" Pa.n to man, wo„,an, or ch.Td and '.r^^'' "' ■nuch about the grammah so Je J ,1,, • ■ ■•«kon, Mr. Jones that I kin tellT.f v ''"'^- ' as you kin, but I can't Jl '' "^""^ »' "-^'l about unseen things I ' '" ' f "'"' "^^ "» J""- -lo what .y eyes We'.oo'keT: /^tj^r'"^ ^^^ toned words either • but If ,„ f '"« '" "«•>- ">ein mating plaiifactrX^rk"^'" '° '"^« !>«, suh, he has got to speak" ,!> F "Jr^' ^°'' ''" «and Richard Lurid,on 'withr fdicio'^ "" """'"'- fe.L r:;>^ Che„ trr^' ^""^ -™^ -^ -^^ - and to all of us 2 ^hl^:?^/" '''"'""'■''« '"^tos, "'-ar,, Myhea^.tel'hlr:'"'''^"'"''''^""- --; nin't Jo b.an,e .f "beard is ^tff '"^l ^'^ ofa hard-shelled turtU ■ / , ° '* ■'*• The heart a mouse, suh nZ Z ^ 'I *' "'"'-'' "' "'« "f innocent'little b:, T Ji\"a hetl^r "?'"■• " •« litt.e head t„ arc me /„H i u' , "''' " ""'"«' What^cause had I to .ake M: "^a f ""> 'Vf'' '''■ ficed for a mouthful of black m J, J d u ''^ '""'" SO -- The Story of the Colonel when it comes to a fight I am always on hand. I have seen p.ous-like men of the church, n,ore cruel than I am. 1 have known deacons who kneel in the ' Amen ' corner, hunt all day Saturday with a gun, seeking a covev of harmless quail, and shoot them down like Hies, — take the lives of these helpless creatures that nevah insulted any man; an ' he next Sabbath these same pious fellahs s.t m church trying to look like angels while the preacher reads out oi the Good Bo.k, ' Thou shait not kill I ' I am a consistent man. Judge, continued the c olonel, « I don't pertend to be religious, but I do claim that I am con- sistent ; and while my heart is very tendah, as I have admitted, yet no man dare insult me." " While you were reading your sober rigmarole, Pahson, I wah thinking off and on of a case in which I wah consarned in ole Virginia, and jest when you stopped and looked up I had reached the p'int where I seized the gul et of the critter; and as you lowered the papah and looked me m the eye, it seemed as though that same young fellow's face rose up befoah me. But pshaw I what s the use of thinking about things that hev passed away? That fellow brought his punishment on his own head." The colonel lapsed intosilenre and mxta at the stove. « Tell us all about it, or let Mr. Jones finish his essay, requested the clerk. « Go on with your story " urged a chorus of voices. «I relinquish the field and beg you to oblige us," added the parson, in a slightly ironical tone. ° ^ "Wall, since that day I hev n't talked about the episode, fer, as I hev already told you, there ain't no use m worry. ig over the troubles of another fellah, especially if ^the ot.er fellah is dead, and it don't do no good, eituer, to think about the mistakes that other people hev 57 i Stringtown on the Pike •ttatJe, and that there fellah r«o^ l '"..n and th„e. xlItttZltT T'"' "' "'^ '''' fwgotten." "' °f ''"'' Piuple should be Again the speaker paused Tk »nd the teacher „.ere fLe ,M • • '^" "'' ">= J-^ge «on, who now seemed ol,of ."""""^'^ "P°" ">e Pal "'".. "Continue Tot":," ..P^r- 7' l;-terna,ur:„, cigar, thinlcing of no hfn> a^^ " '""''''"' ''"'' '"•°'""g " - -°^'"g. when'stdd'en .TZrJ' "" '"■'" '-'^ about to step on a ereat hlLt P^ '' J"" "^ ^ "as *>"=• I ™sed my h«l and ' t f f"'^''"' '" ">" ^arpent into the ear," I a^'^''^ ""' '""'' "^ ">« "■at I can't loolt bacia, that H ''f ' "'''-*'»nci fool, out shuddering. No, fe ' h 'at'" 'T!!'' """' hundreds of sech varmints h!„ f ' ,""' ' ''«'' ii"ed ."•« I then saw stretcTd l «eth? t.*"^"^ ^"'"'« innocent snake not lon^ah thl„ "'""'^''-a Jittle 'her. was a rain-storm Tnd I 'II " ■"""'• '^''" "«>" I 'ay awake an hour Sinkt/ n r"' ^'""'"''"' '*"' '"g- I am a very tendah hf " -- """^ ""'" '""''- blame if my che4t rlh" ' '"^" '"' ^ "<" «o Evidently the vain k.„ "ent of " honour'- "ha. hfha7" '""' '" ''«""" ""= "The story, please'' „,l """""'"g'r introduced. " Wall, it is!iT2j f^ '""""^ ">= •»"»"• give it in'a fSlZ^' ° l.:'"^^ ^f"" »"- and I kin •hat back in „le Vi Jni, l! "".'= y" "<<■"■•'. Pahson, .en.leme„tha„.her!ismo,H;;res.'rb:;;;^ HmiMMiiiM|i The Story of the Colonel pahdon of the persons present, more gentlemen to the acre. It don't require book learning in ole Virginia to make a gentleman, ncithah does book learning make a gentleman anywhere, 'though, as a rule, it does no harm; but, as you know, ole Virginia turns out gentlemen of both kmds, gentlemen bohn and gentlemen learned. I b'long to the first class of gents, which, begging pahdon of some of the persons present, 1 considah the hiehah class." ^ " The under class," remarked the parson drily," know something about your type of gentlemen. But we arc all impatient to hear your * episode,' as you call it. We know you are a gentleman, but are waiting for the story." " Wall, suh, a gentleman of old Virginia, of the first class can't be insulted. If a fellah attempts to insult him, either the fellah dies or the gentleman dies. In either case no dirt sticks to the gentleman, fer his boots air on. You see, pahson, there is another phase of the mattah when it comes to the question of honah, a phase that common people, low-bohn people, cannot raise themselves into. The highah strung the gentleman, the easiah it is to affect his honah, and to a high-strung man the smallah the reflection the greatah is the insult. Only persons of the highah order can comprehend this fact. Now, up North," and Luridson turned directly upon Mr. Jones, " wliere the finah qualities do not appeah, where a gentleman is nevah bohn a gentleman, insults air taken that in ole Virginia would be remembered to the third generation. Colonel Clough of my county killed the grandson of the man who insulted his grand- fathah. Not that the colonel's grandfather did not kill his man (fer he did), not that the colonel's father did not kill the man's son (fer he did), not that the son of the 59 nil ') Stringtown on the Pike man the colonel's father lill,^ k j j -nally to injure the coknel ffcr ^If"' 'T""^ P- ™^==' been o^ Colone, Coug,. ^^''/^"^^"rf "^ ""e descendants You bet that family proposes tot '^"' l>,te the dust, honah of the great coloneT" "^ ""'"""'■e'l 'be once moreTr. Jones' ft?"! T"'" ''^"-'d, and •he delivery of the "rCs'eTi' '""'"•"'' '" ""-P^l ■nsistent voice: narrative, said in a low, "^a;,T:irr'r'°"'''^''--''«o,y... epi»deof\he)c,^ ::V::J; =•"" '•'/'"'■ .he only I think of this one jestn^ "1"" ^ ' "" '' ^^ -hy gaged in others moriexS h !"' '" ' ""^ ''«'' -- 'o it. There wah, fer e"a2V ^^ f^" 'o '""^ -e ^e, a disturbing character t!. •"" '''' ' ''^"'"' »f insulting persons gene 1 trar^ "'" "^'" -'»'"<' their affai,.,b„,h,%„J'^hyj»t'ng questions about He nevah hu. once .ou^hTd L^ jfh""' """^''"• of our county, and nevah alin I . . " 8=""™^" about any one. This is how 1 "J '"' t^"' wag one of our„iggahs,and in an^„^„T ' ""^ ''^^ he met J question cScer^ingo",!™? x?°"°^»'^>"'^'=ed family affa,-rs air not rte p„M ^ ^'^' ^^hson, our that niggah told me of the7miu; """"f ^' ■'"' "hen person, i, mean, pistols and? 1" ""^ '"'^"'''""^ my fault that he would J'tshoo . '"''°''- ^' ^'^ "'' ^'h his pistol in his han IZ^:":! "^ ^ ? ™y Warman counted three- and r ^ *''" °'e Tim of the bullet that let Z^ W^lf^Z"" ^^ '''' ""= "'"S - -^ "■• asked the .g^ah^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ The Story of the Colonel his young mastah had reached home safely the night he drank too much licker and raised hell in the village It aff2s"^^ ''^ '^""''°" "'^^^^' ^^°"^ ^^^'' '"*'^^'''' The Virginian here turned his eyes away from the parson, who now stood as if he were an antagonist, de- termmed not to let him escape. « Why do you evade your duty ? " he asked lowering his voice. « Are you a coward, Mr. Luridson ? Your last episode, not your first." Fire flashed from the colonel's eye; he cast a quick glance at the parson, who with folded arms stood facing him and then, as if respecting the cloth of the man of God, or subdued by that placid gaze, he turned his eyes toward the ceiling. ^ " The last affair to this date you mean, Pahson, not necessarily the last one. No man knows when he may strike a quarrel, any more than he knows jest when he may slip ofFthe tight-rope you were preaching of," he replied, leering in a sinister way at the parson. *' You want my episode, and you seem to want it bad. Now you shall hev it, and I call these gentlemen to witness that you forced me to relate it. I 'm not ashamed of my record, nor afraid to make a clean breast of it, but I hev done all a gentleman can do to save trouble, and if trouble comes it ain't my fault. " This is the way it happened : «I hain't much schooling, but I hev enough to ansah all the use a bohn gent/eman has fer book learning I went to school until I could read the newspapah and write a fair letter, and then I found it useless to spend more time with books. I did n't intend to write a novel or edit a dictionary, and I did n't propose to fool awav my time on matters that were of no particular value to a 6i 1 I.; 1 1 ! 11 ! m Stringtown on the Pike gemleraan of leisure, so I dropped school and turned mv attention to foxes and dogs. ^ " Wall, that ole schoolhouse stood until this war of ecession came honerable as a schoolhouse should sld but aftah our forces retired and the Yankee lin»r advanced heyond us, the house was^t "llTh" damn Freedman's Bureau.' You would n't beltve it i a gemleman like myself didn't certify to the f "bit a o„"he ben h "rl ,7" """^ ' "'"' "'^^^ ""X "ame u W „ ,, ■ . J ^'"'''""^n. a "Igfi school." schloT^^"' »""' M^-Jo-^"-" -about the. „,^M- "There ain't much to tell, fer it did n't last Ions A meeting of ne ghbourhood gentlemen followed ^d',' wah &fc:unt;r^^' ^-^- '-'- '^^^oo-n1 " Well .' " -chl^l'''''."" "''' '"'''"'' '^^ >">""« "■=" "-ho taught the .chool and one word led to anothah until, finding , ha toM h TT'^ '° P"^''^' '" >■« ««•-» ve coifrse I .old h,m that he must either close that school or fight" " And he fought you ? " ^ to firht" h?^ '°"?;hf.''-^d varmint had n't spunk enough ^ hght , he turned h.s back, said insolently : < 'Scuse dc^htr; ^^e^'^^ ''' ^"^^ '' '-'-< -' ^^-h: " . you — " " Kicked the doah down, seized the stripLng by the h oa, an squeezed his life out. I did n't intend to kil the boy, fer he wahn't moh 'n half grown ; but aftah got my clutches on his throat and thought of t.elns'll » The Freedman's Bureau was established in March, i86' 62 ^' ^WiTttr^iTKtVrtM-xiwif »■,*«-«» :at-,'M^r,<^ The Story of the Colonel he had given me and saw a niggah's face behind my ole desk, I grew desperate, and when I threw him onto the floor his face was as black as the skin of the niggahs around him." ^ " And then — " '^ Nothin'. I wiped my hands on my kerchief, called my dogs and left the fool niggahs and their cowardly teachah. I had done my duty. I had given the Yankee and the niggahs a lesson, and I don't hev no squeams now over the episode. If he had been a bohn gentleman I would hev shot him in his tracks ; but as it wah, I choked him as 1 would a varmint. Nothin' but a coward IS ever choked to death. Perish me, if any damn, long- haired Yankee shall insult Colonel Luridson." " What was the man's name ? " " Jones, suh, Jones. Same name as youhself. Pah- son, a veiy common name," he said with a sneer, "and a very ordinary man, suh." Mr. Jones stood for a moment as if unconcerned : no change of facial expression, no movement bespeaking unusual interest in the subject so abruptly ended. Then he spoke in a soft, low tone, so sweet and mild that it IS strange his voice could be heard through the roaring of the storm that now suddenly flared up — as if the closing of the story had been the signal for its tumultu- ous onslaught. " See," he said, « the clock points to twelve. The New Year is upon us ; " and as we turned our gaze upon the face of the clock, one by one the husky gong struck, each note of the asthmatic cry quivering hoarsely until the next peal came. At the last stroke the parson dropped upon his knees. « Let us pray," he murmured. The building trembled in the tempest, the hanging sign squeaked aiid cried as it flapped back and forth, the wind 63 I Hi § ill if Stringtown on the Pike moaned and sung through the stove pipe, the shutters banged to and fro, but all were unheard by those who unexpected y were called to listen to the sweet, solemn prayer of the man of God. He prayed for his suffering count^^, now in the throes of av.l war, for the people of the colonel in Virginia; and h.s brave countrymen in the Southern arruy ; he of tt nT^\°" 'u' ^^•"-""'^y i" vvhich he, a man of the North, then chanced to dwell; also on his own trZhV' r? ^"d Played for his own brethren in the trenches Before closing he asked God to forgive the last speaker, who, a self-confessed murderer, stood unre- pentant ; and finally he murmured a prayer for the soul tlwTfTT^^'^y-''''^'' ^^°' '" ^°Id blood, had lost h.s life by the hand of the murderous colonel. Then, without rising, Mr. Jones took his note-book soft cu?h f k" '°''''' '""'^ "^^'"g '^'^ ^-d - the soft cushion of h,s vacant chair, carefully wrote a few sentences in it. Rising, he tore out the L and hL ed .t to the vWlage clerk, who was also secretary of the church. "Read," he said solemnly, « read aloud and then present it to the trustees." " ?/i;^^^'^^ "^^'^ '^'-«^^-« ^'^^o^'s^ Episcopal Ckurck. ask others to prarforL ^"^ ' "'"^'''''' ^°^ °'^^'-«' ^ '""^^ yincrs to pray tor me, a sinning suppliant. " Osmond Jones." Then, standing erect, he faced Colonel Luridson who undaunted, returned his look with a defiant scowl ' °' Pahson, J said Luridson, "Pahson Jone., were it hev jest given me - me, a Virginia gentleman At youah request, I told thi« ctory t- -! - . -1- „Lor) i^ please this Coni- 64 i 5^?RffJl^7'. ■"■ "* '■ w%tefcwm**i^*'rts^)*(./. The Story of the Colonel pany. You hev called me a murderah, suh — me, a gentleman of honah, suh. I will not stand the insult, pahson or no pahson — prayer or no prayer. You took advantage of youah cloth, and you shall eat youah words, or by the bones of my grandfather you will sing youah next song and breathe youah next insulting pray- er in — " " Check your wrath," interrupted the parson, without the least excitement. " Listen to me. You have told your story ; now I shall tell mine. If you are a brave man you will not flinch. I have heard your words, and you are bound to listen to what I am bound to relate, and which, notwithstanding the task you have imposed upon me, I shall tell as deliberately as you have spoken." 65 ih r f H CHAPTER IX THE STORY OF THE PARSON. « JNSCRIJTABLE Pro.dence has led us together South Th' "' '"" ^'^ ^°"^ -d y- froi the al,ke to Nonh and Sou,),. Nobler ,ne„ never 1 ved ,t„ cur forefathers, Coloneh for while yours, on the ver^" and :• h'°"' ""^ '^''"^ ■" ^'^Sinia, mi;., half fL^I Und '"'^'\%''r/''"' ^"' battling in' Nev. Eng" land. Thank God for the patriots North and South It';: J. ' -"""y "' "«^'- ^-^ ^-e gre"at '::^ xo:^icfp::dfro;Tde=f^^^^^ hero who served and died with Washington. YouZ :ti:t:rZ rtiir •'-p--'°''of righ.i;; our' nf °"^' ^''.^ '"^"'y way to maintain the 'hon- our of your distinguished grandfather and you'-self Now I will give the history of the man you kil led faced the British enemy, and fell near where .now stands 66 The Story of the Parson the monument of Bunker Hill. Notwithstanding your different methods of life, neither you who live nor he whom you killed can be considered the descendants of cowards." Either the speaker's voice had insensibly fallen, or the storm without had increased in violence to such a degree as to overcome its low murmur. The words were scarcely audible, and as the last sentence was spoken a pause ensued in which one heard only the shrieking of the frantic wind. "There are good -^"".ons, Colonel Luridson, why men cannot see life's ties exactly alike ; and while 1 freely overlook your extravagant ideas of personal hon- our, it is a pity you cannot have equal charity for the views of my people. You were reared in the South, I in the North. Your land is balmy and pleasant most of the year, mine cold and cheerless. Your soil is easily cultivated and productive of great returns, our land is hilly and covered with granite boulders, around the bases of which men search with the hoe to find a nest here and there for a few grains of hard, yellow, scrub-flint corn. Your winters are so mild that stock scarcely seek for shelter, and your herds graze in open air the year through ; our winters are so long that when spring comes the entire crop of the summer has been consumed in feeding a very limited number of animals. You be- came the heir of plenty by the result of that battle for freedom, in which both our ancestors served so valiantly, while it brought to us only a barren heritage. While you have been free to roam at will, watching for fancied in- sults and cultivating belligerent passions, I have been compelled to work unremittingly, and thus our distinc- tive environments have created our different views of life. Each of us should in consequence have forbear- ^7 % J| Stringtown on the Pike ance for the other. I had to gain a livelihood, and wa. fo ced to spend the results of m, little savings o "ecu e the education necessary for the ministry, while vou were rct/ii;;;.^ --^'-^ ^- "^-^^' -^"»' n,in?f!lTr ""' '""""P'^ h the grocer, who, ever m.ndfui of h,s guests, stepped forth and heaped the fire wjh coal ; the long-legged clerk, who had never before been known ,o „ove the relic of a chair on which he stove Mose, the Jew- patient, pleasant IWose incao able of sarcasm or hatefulness, even when his peopfehad" been abused by idle-mouthed Gentiles, and wise face had „e 5 fo„ lost its smile, now drew his nail-tg of Genis • "" '"^'"^ "'"'-" '""> '"= ^-1! rroressor Urake. There was no reply, and the them Th:"";""?'""^' ''"" '" "■« '-" "efoe tnem. The colonel, now pressing the preacher to fh, chmax, as the preacher had previously done' to ht id' ' ourctrnT:d tenLtrh'th^" °™"'" "•-• uTi,. . "^ 8^°' "'°" t catch the connection." show^ ,v "^ r, '°°" ^'"^" ""''' '"■' I wished to show that you and I may each revere the memory of the other s ancestors. I wished also to remove the stU c c:L:f 1 r "\°'" -"^ "■='" ^- ^^^ "'™ say, Colonel ihat your honoured ancestor fought for his country, as thousands of noble Southern soldiSare now dotng and as Colonel ■ Luridson is „,, doing. W adst^h : "'r'""."-' '"■"= '"•' ""■ choke' triX 68 The Story of the Parson Involuntarily the colonel's hand sought his back pocket, but as he made the movement two members of the Circle sprang to their feet. The parson waved them back. " Shame, shame, Colonel ! " he said calmly, " I have n't even a pen ; besides, I have not told my story ; you are bound in honour to listen patiently to my story." " Then be quick about it," said Luridson savagely, and be careful of youah words, or I won't promise fer my temper. Jest now you came near going to the other Jones, and ancestors or no ancestors, cloth or no cloth, I warn you not to rile me ag'in." " I was born and reared in New England," continued the clergyman without noticing the insult, " where men, women, and children must work for their living, and I assure you they consider it honourable to do so. I was the elder of two boys, and much older than two sisters. Our little home nestled at the base of a mountain spur, within a short journey of the ill-fated historical Willey House, and there, hidden in a nook that even tourists seldom find, the days of our peaceful child life came and went. Before our cottage stretched a small meadow, through which wound a clear brook fresh from the birch- covered mountain in its rear One corner of this meadow was a garden, and included also a small rye field, which gave us our dark rye bread. We had not much beyond the necessities of life, but we were happy. We roamed the mountain side Saturday afternoons, caught fish in the brook and helped our father till his little fields. In winter evenings we cracked nuts, ate apples and listened to our aged grandmother's stories of wolves, Indians and of the revolutionary wars ; during winter we attended a neli^nbourhood school. You never beheld such scenes as we sometimes witnessed there ; 69 I! 'ttf^' It I II M •I Hill Stringtown on the Pike you have never ploughed your way to school through waist-deep snow nor slept in the garret under the clap- boards and waked to find the snow sifted in furrow^ across the coverlet. "Such environments teach us to love one inother more dearly bring us closer together, strengthen l.mily and neighbourly ties, make our joys a pleasure to others, and move others to mourn with us in so. w, bind human hves into one, give to us faith, hope, and charity. You spoke of the fine sense of honour that exists among your people, but, my brother, could you have been schooled, as I have been, to think of the sorrowing nends, the mourning wife, children, or sweetheart, and <-h^ agony with which love looks into an open grave your * tender ' heart, which bleeds at the recollection of J ^ying baby snake would not forget its tenderness and gloat over cold-blooded murder in behalf of wounded * honour. As in harmony with these pathetic words, as if to im- press their force upon that little circle, at this point the building trembled more violently than ever, the storm's fury seeming even to bend it out of its upright position, and spnn^ng from its seat on the topmost shelf, a glass fruit jar shivered into fragments on the floor directly between the two upright men. ^ But the cry of wind and crash of glass were unheeded by the spell-wrapped actors who stood facing each other, and the audience began now to realise that these tjvo men were personally concerned in both the story relating.^^ The colonel was stoically gazing into vacancy. 1 hus, continued the parson, « my boyhood days were spent until my brother grew to manhood, and my dear sisters were in the early bloom of maidenhood ; my ;o MnmMMRfiMWnw and The Story of the Parson aged grandmother, with her stories )f the long-ago, had gone to iterna' rest, and my patient, loving mother, like a guardian angel, mf>\ ed ly about the house, thoughtful of all but herself, cal of thousands of New England mothers who forget hrmselves in their plodding life-work. I 'm thinking now of a typical New England winter, during which there was never a thaw after the opening snow flew ; every day after November first the frost crept deeper, every night the cold grew stronger, and when the days began to lengthen we had already experi- enced v/inter enough for the whole season. It had been decided long previously that I should go to an academy to study for the ministry, and each member of our family had scrimped and saved for years, in order to gather togetht r the necessary means. My devoted sisters had even spent several summers as dining-room waiters in a neighbouring mountain hotel, adding by this sacrifice the earnings to the r'amily hoard. But God moves in mysteries ; the week after New Year's Day my father was kicked by our horse and instantly killed. We were drawn to the churchyard by the same horse ; and as we bowed our heads about the open grave. Colonel, the snow which had been shovelled aside stood on a level as high above the earth's surface as the pit before us sunk beneath it. Next day the winds swept back the snow drift, and a cloak of pure, unruffled whiteness told that God conducted the close as well as the opening of that drama. God was with me then, but God only knows, my brethren, whether the hand of Providence is with me now. "We returned to our desolate home and spent as best we could the remainder of the sad winter ; but with returning spring and the cares of the sugar bush our sorrow abated, for the duties of life cannot be thrown n Ii% 'A;^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ..V :^ />\^ 1.0 1.1 tutu 2£ 2.2 2.0 11.25 II 1.4 ■ 1.6 ^Sdfflices Corporation 13 WIST MAIN STMIT WIBSTn,N.Y. 14StO (71«)t73-4S03 ) ^ ^ fl Stringtown on the Pike aside even at the behest of grief- and h« u i serves h« C„«oH„„ks no. d^'C^'J't "ylj^r^, have said, Colonel. Realising that I hid no chance Iw ^ng ,h,s ran I cannot say, b„, long enough ,o giveT^ many heartaches over withered prospects StiK T .rToXI « "Tr- ''''"''^ y'" -not ilg : the joy that followed the reception of a precious lefter Our Congressman, unbeknown to us had i„„r .!^' h.n,se,f i„ „ , ,.,,,, „,,^ ^^ FreedZ-s Bu e, ' It •oti^l-^nTt it' ■""" " '"'' -«'ope "arw' reill" '?'°"°'' """"^ ^" '»'' "«<=" riveted upon the ce,hng,shot a quick glance at the speaker; evMen.lv he had an.,c,pated the closing informadon, and after th^ sudden start he stoically resumed his fo™er p» ion .Ir^lru'""'^ """'"'"8' P'-ofc^or Drake Zi comfonable bus,ed himself in straightening the Zs of a p,k of b^k,^ J jg^ j,,,_^^^ grimly ^chewed h quid. The pastor stood motionless a mnm»n» en^y lost in thought, then he sloty t'ook hTsn'teTok and some papers from an inner pocLt and hlnded ,tn ! T' Ya^""' "T"^- " ""« ■"»" '•>«« to-morrow to the addtess tnscr bed on the fly-leaf of the book" At these words Luridson turned half way toward the v^all, and drew his half-dosed hand from his'hip ;^'k ! brtht ba7 f • "";"J" """"• ^"'^^ S««"ed 1 e a bright bar of iron, a click followed, the hand returned he gleaming o^ect to its former place, and the coJonel stood immovable before the pastor. , J*!? ""' ' '"" '" "■= "'"<■ »-'"■<"« « this juncture and taking one stop towards the colonel, the pastor" 72 The Story of the Parson continued, in a soft, tremulous tone : " Need you be told what followed ? A telegram, a sobbing mother, distracted sisters, brother on bended knees, alone, in an attic room, registering with God an oath to revenge the infamous crime and not to relent until the murderer had been brought to judgment. Since that day Heaven has kept me from encountering the slayer of my brother. The fellow fled. Colonel, and you know, brave as you pretend to be, that he who stands before me now is a fugitive from justice and fears to go back to his Virginia home; neither does he dare to let his honourable Vir- ginia countrymen know his hiding-place. You have discredited your ancestors, you are shaming the brave Southern soldier, and have no claim on the glorious mother of States, Virginia." The Colonel made a quick motion, as if to strike the speaker, but Mr. Jones calmly held out his open hand, and in response to the silent command Luridson re- sumed his former position. " Long," continued the pastor, " I struggled to over- come my wrath, vainly struggled to forgive, and at last I vowed that while our Master kept us apart no inten- tional act of mine should bring us into conflict ; but if God Almighty led us to each other I would consider that it was by His will, and for a single purpose, and the hour has now come." The hand of the colonel sped toward his hip pocket, but not so quickly as the pastor's arm sprang out, for as springs the tongue of a lizard, too rapid for eye to fol- low, so sprang the pastor's arms ; and as a quivering sparrow gives one glance of despair, and one only, when falls the unexpected shadow of the hawk upon him, so gave the colonel one upward turn of the eye ; and as the talons of the fierce bird of prey, crunching through 73 ''< I i 4 Stringtown on the Pike bone and flesh creep i„,o the vi,ab of the death-struclt b. d, so crept those finger-ends into the tissues of "h colonel's ,hra.t, closing the throbbingarte "en «h dammmg up life's crimson's current until !,„r?r pressure of the fluttering heart, ^^o7LZ).ZtJ,^ no» and ear, and the very eyeballs turned purple ' ■ hl^Cl^ZXT^, '°'^'"' " '"'' "" J"V. but too 'ate, tne crime had been committed in the space of , a breath ; taken by surprise, they could give thrunfL ™a.e man no help, the pent-up hatred of ytrsM been concentrated in that fearful erasD ThT ,a ^*«Vlf ^mmm n m^ fim:-' The Story of the Parson brief period, then with a shake of the head slowly arose and pronounced the word, " Dead." " Strange," he said, " that a single squeeze like this should be followed by death. I have seen men choked until the tongue hung out of their mouth, and yet they revived. There IS no evidence of life in Luridson, however : the shock must have burst a blood-vessel in his brain." The witnesses of the drama now regained their self- control, the palsy passed, their minds were liberated from the stupefying spell, and simultaneously several men stepped forward. In silence the dead colonel was straight- ened out upon the floor anc covered with a strip of muslin torn from a bolt. A messenger with lantern in hand was dispatched for the village undertaker, and old Mose volunteered to perform the errand. During this period the pastor stood silent, with downcast eyes j the judge sat apparently apathetic, and, obeying a common instinct, the members of the circle automatically resumed their usual places, waiting for the end of the strange New Year celebration. I, however, against my will, now that the old Jew, Mose, was gone from my side, found myself crouching, shivering next the stove, near .Osmond Jones, the preacher, who alone was standing. Seeing me, he reached down and placed his hand gently on my head. " Child," he said, « would to God you had stayed with your mother to-night." 75 I ii CHAPTER X THE FEARFUL STORM OF NEW YEAR's EVE, 1 863 nPHE calm Which had subdued, for the time the X usually active and sometimes boisterous procldinti coming b as, bum i„,„ ,he mids. of .he company D^ r«l^ u- oenumbed and suffer nc with ne impulsively exclaimed : gwcrui, "Quick Doctah, quick, Ma'se am dyin'; he wan's yo too, Pahson ; quick, Pahson » " heco':rd'«!:d:H'ftbS'i^- ^ ™" -« ^-e bero„ "I will no. go ,hh nigh.," said .he doctor empharf. 76 New Year's Eve, 1863 peluii "" ^' '' ^'""' ^°'' """^ '° "*'' '*'"" "^'^ '^° '•^""•'^ After a period of silence the negro's self-possession was restored, and he became again the garrulous Cupe, prone to argue regardless of the importance of the message to be delivered. ^ "Et doan make no diff'ence nohow," he muttered, dah am t no use in a doctah when deff comes a-walkin' m. N.ggah signs am suah, but doctah stuff am unsahtin. L>c sign am not t' be disembayed. What fo' did Cupe walk absent-minde' like inte' de house f-day carryin' an axe on h.s shouldah ? i Did n't Cupe know dat sech a sign mean suah deff t' some pusson, an' fo' de Lawd, de debb.1 make h.m do dat awful ting. An' when Cupe ink ob de awfulness ob de transaction an' step back t' lebe de room, dah settin, in de op'n doo'way wah dat dawg Dgawge; an' he jest look up in Cupe's eyes es sah ful-hke es ebah a dawg could look, es ef he say t' h.s o Id fnen * Cupe, yo' hab gone an' done it, suah.' An then when Cupe cotch de awfulness ob de 'stake an look down at Dgawge quistionin'-likc, de dawg raise hjs head an open his mouf an' howl long an' skeary- like, lookm all de t,me in Cupe's face es moanful es de young missus in de big house on her dyin' bed look, in de long-ago. God save Ma'se, dah am no 'scapin' de aftahcomes ob sech signs es dese. De sign in de ashes T'\ .? . ^°^ ^""""^ °"' ^' fi'°°dy Hollah done pmted t Ma'se dead dis New Yeah night. De axe sign t -day done say he gwine t' die, an' den de dawg what set m de doo'way an' howl am de sartin sign ob deff, case he see deff com'n' ! But de su'est sign ob all » 77 il Stringtown on the Pike (and Cupe's voice became yet lower and more measured), « de su est s.gn ob all am dat de cedah tree limbs wha Mase planted am es long es a coffin now-CuDe measure dem ag'in t'-day. Yo' kin stay heah, Doctah, dah am t no use m yoah stuff nohow ef deff am in de deff^h ''^"' ^hat nebbah fail am pintin' f sahtin' deft, dah am t no good m doctah's stuff now " Having thus disposed of the doctor, thi messenger turned to Mr. Jones. »»ciigcr " Ma'se wants ue preachah. He hab not ax fo' de doctah ; he say : ^ Cupe, go fo' de pahson, I mus' see de pahson An den Cupe say, sed he : * Ma'se, did yo' make fnen' w.d de pahson like ole Cupe say t' do ? ' ^ Shet up yoah black mouf an' go fo' de pahson an* doan .a.t too long fo' I feel pow'ful weak-like? a; n^tfrt^t^'^^'-^^^^^'^^-^-^'-n^^ain'^ helY ^' !''''l1' ''" ''"^ "*•""' rise up, an' Cupe heah de words ob de promise he made dat sah'ful night^ de honey chde what am an angel now. Den he say t' de weddah should be too hot an nebbah too cole fo' Cupe ter sahve de chile Heaben sent t' her, but dis am de las time ole Cupe kin sahve yo', Ma'se,' and den Cupe l,te out an' heah he am. Ma'se Preachah, yo' will go, suah yo' will ; de sign mix yo' an' Ma'se Honey up wondahful-like." ^ The preacher hesitated, but not from fear of the storm. He looked at the sheet that covered the lank form of the colonel, then replied, speaking more to the audience than to the negro : "I am not a minister — but — a murderer." The negro gazed at him in wonder, then following the parson s glance, he stepped to the sheet and raised it 78 New Year's Eve, 1863 cautiously, far enough only to give a view of the face of the colonel, and started back with staring eyes. " Fo' de Lawd, Ma'se Preachah an' did yo' slew de colonel ? " " I did." The negro's self-composure returned immediately "Who'd Ob b'lebed it, Ma'se! An' yo' so weak- like. Yo' am a bettah man dan yo' looks t' be, Ma'se Preachah, an' ole Cupe knows yo' sahved him right. : Stringtown on the Pike The judge regarded me curiously. " Do not forget what you oaw, child." Then, turning again to the minister : " Another second," he said, " and you would have been a dead man, Parson ; self-preservation is the first impulse ; you were unarmed and had made no aggressive motion. You did your duty, Mr. Jones, and did it bravely ; the case is self-defence ; and, whatever may be true of New England, you need fear neither judge nor jury in Kentucky." Still the parson hesitated. " Gq ! " said the judge in a tone of authority, point- ing to the door; "humanity calls." Drawing his overcoat tightly around him, without speakmg a word, the parson moved to the door, opened it, and passed out. "De end am not yet," said old Cupe, speaking to himself; " de sign pinted t' two men dead dis night, but de colonel wah not one ob dem. Heah am one what de sign miss. Am de sign wrong? Fool," he mur- mured, « fool nigger, not t' know dat two deffs could n't come alone in de face ob sech signs. Ef et am moah dan one, et am not two, et am free er seven er nine." " Do you remember what the » Corn Bug ' said to Mr. Jones the last time they faced each other in this room ? " asked the teacher, heedless of Cupe's mutterings. « Yes," said the judge. ^ " I have it written," interrupted the grocer's boy ; turning to his stenographic book, he read: «*You haven't the spunk of a sick rabbit and you haven't the energy of a sleeping possum; you would n't cross the street in a shower to save the soul of a saint, and you would n't dare crook your finger in the face of a turtle-dove for fear it would get pecked.' " 80 CHAPTER XI INTO THE STURM PASSED THE MINISTER WHEN the door of the grocery closed behind him the pastor paused, turned, grasped the door- knob, and stood with his back to the storm. Insensible now to external things, he did not feel the raging cold outside the room he had left, and gave no further thought to the glowing warmth within. He dropped upon his knees and raised his hands in supplication ; then, rising, he drew his hat firmly down and strode out of the feeble light which struggled through the window. He did not think of the course he should take — there was no path that night. He did not reason his way — no power of re»; ;• remained. His mind was wrapped in despondency, 11:3 spirit was lost in anguish so deep that this hurricane, the maddest storm American history records, was unnoticed and anfelt. There is no other explanation of the part he took that night. To have attempted thought concerning surrounding things would have been fatal to his errand ; to have reasoned would have lost him the way. Under such conditions and in such blackness to look for roadways, to seek familiar objects, to attempt to guide one's self by the intellect, would be to walk in circles, turn here and there, stagger like a drunken man, stumble, fall, and perish. The man did not care to see the way. Sensible neither to « 81 Stringtown on the Pike th. cutting h.,il the shrieking bla«, nor the intense cold, he .gnored tha k,„g „f «orm,. Leaving ,h. Stringtown p.ke, he struck int., the fields and moved on. As if i" were a balmy autumn day, and the breeze simply fanning the cheek and cooling the brow, a, if lifc'^ ^pleasure! were before h,m and happy thoughts behind, he strode onward. Presently he turned aside, somlthing he ne,ther saw nor felt blocked the way. A herd of swine huddled together crushed one another, each .-eekinr o llZthl 1 r ^"'''r"'y "y'"i "> «"pe the piercing cold that all n,ght long crept through and through from beast to beast, un.il, when morni„| broke, notlneT ma,ned a hve Scarcely had he passed th;m by when cose bes^e h.n, a mournful cry sounded; but t'he w d of angu,sh d,d not catch hi. ear nor did i, sound again, gling, had fallen helpless, and would not rise again Lanng not for man nor beast, the pastor moved onward' guided by he knew not what, toward a light he did no «e. Over hdls, through the woods, across frozet reeks, chmb.ng fences, jumping gu„ie;, seeking neTther path nor road, he sped. ^ indt'JT '^" 'll°°"'::« ''"'' '*""« *^^ ^'^•"> J<^=ving little ndented spots, but the sense of pain soon ceased bfneath the quieting touch of benumbing cold At Rr.t thl w.nd had waved .he flowing hair tL^tircled l^stow but soon the beating hail and congealing frost had matted .t together and frozen it to his sldn and coat At first, h.s arms and his fingers moved freely; but th^ stiff and motionless. The man knew nothing of al! th.-, knew not that the creeping cold was nearing his . vitals; little cared for life or death. ^ S2 Into the Storm passed the Minister At last the pastor's eyes were greeted by a slender ray streaming through a little wiidow near the door of a cabin. He tried to raise his hand and grasp the door- knob, but could not. Both arms were numb. He shouted, but the cry was lost in the roar of the blast i he listened, but no answer came, only the tumult of the sweeping storm. Again and again he cried, and then in desperation threw himself against the door, crushed it in, and fell forward into the room. He tried to rise, out his hand could give no response to his will ; his fingers rattled against the floor i his arms refused to bend. By chance, he pressed his heels against a crevice in the rough-hewn floor, then he raised his head, next his shoulders, and Anally, as a worm creeps up, his body rose, and at last stood upright. Edging along the wall, he reached the swinging door that now slammed in and ou; obedient to the whim of the varying blast, and pressing his weight against it suc- ceeded in closing it, even to the snapping of the catch. Just then the flickering flame in the great fireplace flashed upward, lighting the room. The cabin was built of unhewn beech logs. The spaces between the logs were chinked with stones and the interstices had been filled with mud. In the ceiling was a square hole to which a ladder reached ; the floor was puncheon. At one end of the oblong room a chimney-place covered much of the area. A window opposed the fireplace, and another was cut beside the door. The hearth was made of a single, large flat fossil stone from out the creek bed. On that stone stood an iron oven, a few kitchen utensils, and in the huge throat of the chimney hung a crane to hold the kettle or sus- pend the roast. The furniture of the room comprised a small table, a few chairs and a bed. On the wall 83 ■i '■I i^'! Stringtown on the Pike service. All this the pastor saw as the fitfnl fir»fl u was precious, and a sinde fll.h -^'."^ Pastor time «cTr„'"B!,'.*''t'' ""' ?" "" "•' "=" '"■«ge of the and n,«,ed, unkemp, hair covereT "ll bur£ , ' eyes and whiskey-dyed nose «,hl I, I ! ?""S wretched m ,„ sank back ' '""'>' ""^ "■' The man was not alone • for lUr t^., forn. in the shadows, haif 'II^;; fe;;- -«'>» opposite side of the bed -the form of , *^ vu Crthr.:ror.hfd,rttv ? somb. toeing that r^ei"; hU^ti„:td°' ' seemed no. altogether human - a dusl^y "^'Jk'' .^ :rrftrb:hin^'-''^"»'^^' •>-'''- a :r .hi"" "'f '"."^ *" "'""^ "P and sank again, the ^adows played in dissolving waves about th'e oZ w.th,n, rose and fell, smging strange sonis, which 84 Into the Storm passed the Minister verberated through the many half-chinked crevices of the logs. Never had the New England Parson heard the play of the wind at midnight in a house of logs, nor had he ever gazed at such a scene as this. In that Kentucky land, man nor child had ever taken part in such a drama, nor, after that New Year's Eve, 1864, has any man heard such fiercely wild wind music. The two men gazed long at each ot! but both held their voices. The child broke the spell, and it is well that she did so, for the men seemed unable to utter a word. Each seemed to have transfixed the other ; neither had the power to move. It was a nightmare spell, and as in a nightmare the life may flee before the body can be induced to move, so, had no living being spoken, the spell that held these men might have ended as nightmare sometimes ends. Impulsively the little girl threw her arms about the form of the bedridden man, and then she laid her fair, chubby cheek against his rough beard, keeping her eyes riveted on the face of the silent parson. She stroked the matted hair of the uncouth man, and, searching with her face beneath the shaggy moustache, sought to kiss his lips. Even the suffering parson could but contrast the holiness of dawning childhood and the horrible re- pulsiveness of self-wasted manhood. The child spoke pleadingly, as she toyed with the uncouth visage : " Uncle, uncle, speak to me. Uncle Hardman ; " but the dying sinner, released from silence by that voice, spoke, not to her, but to the man. " Come here, Pahson, come here. I ordered Cupe ter find yo', an' the brack rascal did his duty ; he said he would send yo' ter me, an' he did. Wall, Pah- son, bygones es bygones. I riled yo' once, Pahson, 85 ■■.f! i 'fli Stringtown on the Pike but I didn't mean half I said, yo" sm Pah^n closer_„e who air bad hev a kind o- h ^ . 77 "°" kind, jest >case y„- air good an' we air bad K ^°"'' no other reason An' k u '"°' '^" "n't us we say cussed thil " f "rJ"'" ^ets hold ov nice ov yo' but don't?! "" "'""'','' ''="' *■"' '°*»^'' '>>« V yo , out don t always speak. Wall IV/f ,. t I asks fergiveness now, and afta'h yi' doe' wh« J t"? yo' ter then yo' must kneel down! an' pL fo' closer. Tones I amV c». ' ^ ^ *° — ^°"^c yoah shoe X in i :- ll^r"' :: T' J"' '"t"'' ^'' back." ' ^° '"' ■"=«« the words became more hideous. perceived that the man .he" o'^'at;: ::t::y y' r- "'- ' '"-"^ - hev seen -e TeTil^-y^l:^— .>^^«- I ^^^hi^^tnttsr. :; 'r- ^^^^^ "■ha'et came from et'ain", <• ' ""'=' "° <"»'«»« -n' dollaJ, the 'iri murhe""""''- '" ">" '- '"ou- Pahson, wrileet dfwn." ' ""'= " ^'""' 'i"^'^ ^^'' Where is the paper, pen or pencil?" Mr. Jones ni^e'rs,''r:o.''";evrhtd:f "■;.'"^r -"' "^ "■» « Ti! T "° "^^ ^o Papah an' nencil " "Then I cannot do what you wish '' «,;r.i. Ain't this chi,dt:;ttLLrrsLTr.ef;: 86 Into the Storm passed the Minister given money ter edycate him ? Yo' must write et down, Pahson," he pleaded ; " the end ov the nigger spell es here, the nigger spell thet linked yo' an' me tergethah, Mr. Jones, an' yo' must write. I can't talk no longer, fo' I am very tired." "I left my note-book and pencil behind me; I cannot." " Can't you write on a slate, mister ? " asked the girl ; " I can." "She can't write; she knows her letters, but calls makin' pictures writin'," interrupted the « Corn Bug." " I can write, and I 've got a slate full of writin'," protested the child. " Where is the slate ? " asked the parson ; " give it to me quickly." The child ran to a corner of the room and returned with a slate to which a pencil was attached by a string. "There, mister, see the writin'," and she pointed to the child drawings with which one side of it was covered. But the parson could not use the pencil j his fingers refused to obey his will ; he was helpless. "Write," said the "Corn Bug," "write, Pahson, er I will die without makin' my cross. See, mahn'n es comin', et es daylight now, an' Cupe's nigger sign said thet with this mahn'n's light I would die. Quick, Pahson, I want ter make my cross." By an effort Mr. Jones pressed the slate between his wrists. " Make your letters, child, as I tell you to do." And obedient to his command, she slowly spelled, letter by letter, word by word, the shortest will on record in Stringtown County, to which as witness the pastor managed to sign his name. "Now for your cross- mark." The dying ma« seized the pencil, and as he did so 87 i (1 'I'- i' € m m Stringtown on the Pike the old crone arose, and advancing from out the chim- ney jamb for she was the shadow), stood over him and said, partly as an apology, partly to herself, "I'se a njgger, but ef signin' ob papahs am t' be done I wants t see de makin' ob de cross. Cupe, he siy, D.nah, doan yo' nebbah let no signin' ob papahs be done by Ma'se lessen yo' sees de makin' ob de cross.' " fh. .f l"'^!^^ '''■°"' °" °"^ ''^^ «"d the child on the other, the « Corn B..g " made the cross ; and then his partly relieved mJr.d reverted to the futu- " Would yo' pray fo' the likes ov me, Pahson ? " waf "r «?>"''°"'o**'" ^'"'^ '° "^^> "^^'- *° ^^rnity as was the "Corn Bug," shook his head, and murmured, " I cannot, I dare not." * "Can't you pray, Mr. Preacher?" asked the girl; why, I can say the prayer my mother left me." wirh 7 ^°^^°"' °^ "'' ^^^^" murmured the parson wh a last effort Kneeling upon the puncheon'floor" tu ned . ^"^1 ^^^^P^^ ^"^ ^''^ <=»^'Jd-«ke face turned upward, the g.rl interceding for the dying profli- gate and the wretched murderer lisped the simple prater' Now we lay us down to sleep, We pray thee, Lord, our souls to keep : If we should die before we wake. We pray thee, Lord, our souls to take. But neither of the men heard the end of the touching b"orhTK' before the words were hushed the spiris of • • • . . The morning light suffused the room, the break of hebutercold Friday morning, Janua.^ ,st 1864 The nsmg sun's rays paled the fire-flash 3 the shadots van! 88 » »» Into the Storm passed the Minister ished ; the wild winds subsided, and excepting the biting cold without and the frozen creatures scattered over all the land, no evidence remained to tell of the storm which had come and gone. When the door of that lonely cabin was opened by the searchers — for searchers started from Stringtown with the break of day they found the negress hovering over the embers on the hearth, folding in her embrace a sleeping girl. In the rude room, on the bed one man lay, and beside the bed another man kneeled, while between them, tightly clasped in the stiff fingers of him who kneeled, a child's slate rested. Over the upturned surface of this slate awk- ward words were scrawled, and at the tip of the index finger of the man on the bed, him who clutched the pencil, they saw the sign of the cross. I will to Sammy Drew, the widow's son, two thousand dol- lars. All else to Susie, my adopted child. Joseph Hardman. His X Witness Osmond Jones. 89 ' (if I to' ¥ ^l^ ) CHAPTER XII "LOOK OUT FO- DE RED-HEAD BOY " ,nH h ! .? ""° "■" ••"«"» '»'' Shone bright and ho,. Nature .and man seemed intent on coverinl and jemovng as quickly as possible all traces „fbf tetrous stom, that closed the year .863 and ushe ed in 1 864. Tmsted and broken trees sent out ne» wounds. The balmy south loaned new sonesters to lurk m thickets that had risen again from where Ir.hl? tt arth'^^'-rr'" r/ '^ "" "-" ^-- "sal "^e earth. The prolific rabbit had multiplied until once more .ts tracks were seen in the dust of the Dike Th! dove and the yellow-hammer, during the cr^el cdd slel followmg the storm, had left their haunts and soul^e .helate'rVf ",'1"" T" "' f^""' »" ^'^ »' ^ tne farmer s fowls about the feet of domestic animals ■ but n„«, aga,„ the one walked with nodding heTd 1^ merrirunf"!"'"' "" '«'■" P"""- and 'thump 3 merrily upon the topmost bough of the dead beech in he fores. Nature in the flush of summer had f„ the painful touch of the dismal winter, and when in the early spring men collected the scattered railstd reb Ht heir fences cleaned up the broken timber, and bled ^reTSm'"'^', "' •™''^ *^^ '~ ''"' > '»■"''"" great scheme of repair ushered in by the lengthenins days and strengthening power of the sL's rays. Befo"! 90 " Look out fo' de Red-head Boy " the month of May had passed, scarcely a memento was left to tell of the hurricane that brought distress and disaster to a continent. Still, an occasional reminder could be found imbedded in the luxuriant grass near Stnngtown ; bleaching bones that but for the storm of New Year, 1864, might yet have been flesh-clad, were familiar to the sight. I stood beside Cupe in the valley of a meadow ; a weather-worn skeleton cumbered the grouud at our feet. Through the strewn ribs crept the heads of a bunch of young iron-weeds. The vine of a wild potato threaded the eyes of the bleaching skull ; the long grass fringed about and pierced through and through the articulated vertebrae ; a shin-bone with hoof attached moulded on the sward. I gave the shin bone a push with my bare foot, and a swarm of ants, uncovered by the act, scam- pered from beneath, each with a white larva in its mouth. I laughed aloud and beat the frightened insects with a stick ; the moist earth became a pulp of strug- gling limbs and bodies mixed with loam, and under the rain of blows the slaughtered innocents were lost in common ruin. The black man seemed not to observe the act; he gave no heed to my multi-crime, but mumbled over his thoughts " De co'ht am not fo' niggers, 'case niggers ain't white. Ef a white man am drunk an' a fool, he kin sw'ah away de life ob a nigger ; ef a nigger am sobah he ain't got sense 'nufl^ 'cordin' to de co'ht t' tell what he knows. What 's de use ob Cupe goin' t' co'ht, an' tellin' de truf 'bout de will ob Ma'se? Cupe am a nigger, an' Dinah am a nigger too." * 1 Negroes were permitted to testify in Kentucky -f re'roe" only were concerned, but in cases where the interests of white°s were af- lected, they were excluded. 91 I 1 Stringtown on the Pike « Dinah saw your master sign his name to the will " said 1. > " But she am a nigger, an' et doan make no diff'ence n"^l; u.k7 ' '" "" """• '"' "' ="''« "»" "k' •>" " Ain't it queer about that money ? " " Dah ain't nuffin p'culiar 'bout et. De witches an' spernts wah out dat night. Fo' de Lawd, when Cupe chist nex day -dah war n't nuffin' t' be seen " The old negro leaned over and gazed intently on the object at h.s feet. He rested one foot on the skull, and whispered: "Dah ain't no use in fightin' ProVdence de s.g„ say dat de gol' wah fo' de gearl, an', will er no w 11, et am fo' de gearl. Chile, chile, de sperrits what make de sign km carry 'way de gol'. f nZV\ ''^ ''^'^^^^ '" ^ ^'"""^ ^'^'^P^^' "« ^asy es P.nt t what 's com'n' t'-morrah; an' gloomy am de sign what pint t' Cupe an' yo' ' " / «*m ae alike were oblivious to the approach of two men on horseback, who, leading a third horse saddled, buT rider" less, having entered the field from the woods road, neared our portion. A stick snapping beneath the hoof of one of the horses caused me to raise my head, but the noise sTun i . ^'^ ^^ "°' '"''' ^''' 'y' ^'•°'" 'he face of the troubV f„> P ' "'T'T''' ""^^"°"^ '^^^■' "Dah am troubl fo Cupe an' yo' too, boy; et am in de air an' Susie gearl when Cupe am gone, an' Sammy Drew, yo' iooi out/o' de Red-Head Boy." ^ ' ^ Having ridden to within a kv^ steps of us, one of the 92 (( Look out fo' de Red-Head Boy men alighted, produced a legal paper, placed his hand on the shoulder of Cupe (who now for the first time gazed in his direction) and said : " By order of the Court I am commanded to arrest you, Cupid Hardman, and secure your person in the county jail." Old Cupe made no reply. The sheriff pointed to the empty saddle. The black man's stolid face gave no evidence of emotion ; unmoved, he repeated his former words in a low tone. "Tole Dinah t* take good care ob Susie, an' yo' look outfi' de Red-Head Boy.^* Then he slowly mounted the horse. The three turned and rode away. 93 CHAPTER XIII hi' ■^H Ul THE ARREST OF CUPE jy^OTIONLESS I «ocd over the di^cmbered skel- «on. Forgotten was the soliloquy of the a»eH .HM..st.„dsej.^:^!:;:?^-^^^^ man. Slowly the three men on horseback receded in ,h, distance while I ga.ed at then, with hand" hadtd "'/ • The,r horses walked with downcast heads throughThe the woods-road was reached and the bars were "„„"„„" ano" r m'?!""' "" "="=' "■"' ^o ">e figure dfs- appeared. Neither of the men cast a look bikward • not even when waiting for the dismounted 0^.^' replace the bars did Cupe give a ^lanr^ in „ T ■ i„,, h,f„„ .1, ■ , "^ = ' g'ance in my direction. Just before their forms vanished in the shadows of the draping beeches a melodious howl arose in he dt- tance_a cry that one who has heard the not« of^ fgain "Tht'^^""^ ''" "PP--— d ant sli, again, l hen, and not unt 1 tht^n a.a t ir; -r '"'° *' ^^-''^ ofVLTt:; d"'an"d « osT the'merd" ""' ""V'^ '" "" "PP-''^ "«-''-- across the meadow, around the neck of a tangled thicket Arough a woodland pasture, where, mouning tht' s 1 K 7?'" ''«■" °f = '°S "bin that resfed on the a .all, shell-bark hickory tree, with top broken off fifty 94 ' j:.v The Arrest of Cupe feet from the earth, stood near by, a relic of the New Year storm ! A square enclosure in the garden behind the house was marked by a group of little mounds, on one of which, shaded by a cedar tree, the grass was younger and of a brighter green than on the others ; these were the most conspicuous objects about the cabin. An aged negress, her head bound in a red bandanna handkerchief, s; i inside, with a child on her knee. She was combing the long, dark locks of the little girl, at the same time singing in a rasping tone a weird ditty that only persons reared by or among the blacks could have understood. Unseen, I stood silent, looking at the two figures ; but my shadow striking across the floor caused the old woman to turn quickly. " Come in off dat doah-sill ! What fo' yo* dare do sech a fool ting es t' come t' a fren's house an' stop in de open doah ? Yo' bring trouble on de fam'ly suah by sech actin' up." " Yes," I said, " there is trouble. Aunt Dinah." " Come in ofl^ dat doah-sill, I tole yo', an* took a cheer. Doan make de trouble wussah dan it am ef dah am trouble on yoah min'." I entered the room and seated myself on a shuck- bottonied chair. " Now fo' yoah trouble. What am it ? " " Cupe has been arrested." The old negress dropped her comb and gazed at me in wonder. « Spoke ag'in, chile." " Cupe has been arrested." "What fool stuff yo' gibin' me? What fo' should Cupe be 'rested ? De chicken house am full ob fowl, de pastyah am alibe wid sheep an' pigs, de turkey talk all day t* de grasshoppah, an' de gujney-hen cr^ *pot- 95 " ' Stnngtown on the Pike rack, pot-rack ' all i.ight 'roun' dis cabin. De bah'l ob flour an dc meal sack am full, an' de fat sides an' de hams am dnppin' grease in de smokehouse. What moah do any nigger wan'? What lyin' fool wah et who 'rest Cupe ? " " The sheriff of the county." " Lawd ! Lawd ! but wah it not de consfble ? " " No, It was the sherifF." h nfF dont trabel 'bout cotchin' niggers what grab a chicken fo' de toofache." B •* Gradually the gravity of the case dawned upon the mmd of the old crone, but only to increase her inco- herent wrath. She engaged in a tirade of abuse, ques- tionings and jabbuings in which the sheriff, the law, the Lars (unknown) who had defamed Cupe, and lastly poor old Cupe himself, came in each for a full share of vituperation. Finding myself neglected, I turned to depart ; but now the negress, quieting her jargon as suddenly as she had begun, said : « Yo' mus' eat a bite, chile. Dinah mus'n' fergit her mannahs even ef yo' did bring trouble. Sit a minit an' eat a bite." " I did n't bring trouble, Aunt Dinah, -.c troubl. came before I saw you." " DJ^ f , yo' come t' a fren's house an' stan' in de open doah ? " " Yes, but that did not make the trouble, for Cupe was arrested before I came." " Yo' doanknownuffin' 'bout sech tings an' yo' ain't fr..hed t'^ speak. De doah-sill sign kin work boff ways. F. . tmg es, et es, an' fool argyments ob pussons «^hat doai, knowde sign's powah can't change de fac's Doan yo stan' on de doah-sill, I axes ? » 96 The Arrest of Cupe " Yes." »' Doan de trouble come ? " " Yes, but — " " De sign wah workin' backward, cMle ; close yo* mouf wid dese wittles." She quickly placed a dish of honey, a loaf of salt- rising light bread and a glass of milk upon the clean table, and once more I ate in that cabin which it seemed my footsteps could not evade. The girl sat quietly and eyed me ; did she remember my former visit ? During the repast I gave Dinah full particulars co icerning Cupe's arrest. As I arose to depart Dinah asked : " An' what word did Cupe send t' Oinah ? " " He said : * Tell Dinah to take good care / the Susie child.' " Dinah seemed pleased with the trust; then she whispered : " An' what did he say to yo', chile ? " " He told me to *■ Beware of the Red-Head Boy, but I don't know what he meant." " Yo' will know some day, honey ; yo' will knov to yoah sorrah some day." She leaned over and spoke in a low, guttural tor - : " De day ob trouble am com'n', an' de Red-Head B y am mixed in de ebil sign. Cupe read de omen, an' et say dat de Red-Head Boy an' Susie an' yo,' chile, am edgin' on t' sahtin defF. Et say dat de Red-Head Boy '11 die sudden an* dat yo' an' Susie '11 be de cause ; an' dat yo '11 die sudden, an' dat de Red-Head Boy an' Susie 'II be de cause." " How did he read it, Aunt Dinah ? " " He icad et in de glass, de sign glass what p'ints t' de act dat ain't been acted." « And what of Susie, Aunt Dinah ? " 7 97 h "■ P! .'■■ Stringtown on the Pike " De sighn wah monstrous cu'yus 'bout de gearl. Cuoe read de omen twice ; et wah monstrous cu'yus." " Tell me about it, Dinah." « De honey gearl wah alibe suah, but folks looks at wah lid." " ■ '"'• ''' "^' ^"^'^ ''^'^ -' ^'^^ " Ho:v could she be ahVe and dead, too ? " h/^^'' T f '' "■°"^^' ^"P^- ^' «'g" ««y she am am ,^m VK cu"" ^°"' °"' °^ ^" ^°^^'' ^ut suah she am st.ll ahbe She wah walkin' an' a talkin' aftah de sign p mt t her bein' gone from out de worl'. Dere wah a shaddah on de face ob de glass, de shaddah ob a great big Cross." "You 're fooling. Aunt Dinah; how could each of another? That cannot be." Jn^f: "^h V'"'' ^°°^'"'» '' ^"^ ^' P''"^'"' ob <»« sign Et can't be done, yo' say, but de sign say et mus' sLZx:^ d "r,.7 " T" '' '°"^- ^- '^ -- de Red-Head Boy mus' sit alone in de cabin ob Susie Lis en ch.le ; dah ain't no harm t' come till he sit all alone ,n Susie's cheer in de night." Too well acquainted with the superstitions of the negroes to consider seriously this prophetic outburst I smiled and turned to depart. ' The old crone stepped outside the doorway, took me by the hand, and looked me steadily in the fac^ "An' Dinah say too, watch out/o' de Red- He ad Boy r 98 CHAPTER XIV COURT DAY ^ OTRINGTOWN is situated eight miles from the •^ " county seat " of Stringtown County, where stood the county jail. In order to reach this important spot, the traveller from Stringtown follows the Mt. Garmel pike to Mt. Carmel Church, and then branches to the Turkey Foot road, which follows a creek bed four miles to its source. On the summit of this rise stands the village honoured by holding the court-house of Stringtown County. Like other county seats in Kentucky, at the time under consideration this was subject several times a year to the flow and ebb of a human tide. The tide was high in Court week, but during the intermediate periods stagnation prevailed. At the time of Quarterly Court, in June, from every section of the county, on the first day of Court week, men on horseback could be seen "going to Court." These as a rule started in pairs, or parties of three or four } but as they journeyed onward the byways merged into main roads and the isolated groups upon them co- alesced until, when the village was reached, a steady stream of horsemen came pouring into its main avenue. In this county seat, even to the very day before Court convened, stagnation ruled supreme. The two grocery stores were open for traffic between Court periods, but 99 Stringtown on the Pike ready f„ business, but even .heir bar-rooms were quiet and the long rows of shed stalls adjacent to each tavern were empty, and the horse taclts in front of the grocer " like ah "T" "'" ''""'• TOe court-hou'erbu l.ke a church, excepting that it was the proud possessor of a second story and four whitewashed round brick pil a.,n front, stood, the day before Court, with clo'd eyes, the iron gate was locked, the pepper-grass and shepherdVpurse grew high and luxuri'anf between I edge and far mto the street unmolested even about the long rows of horse racks that bounded "Court- House Square." In the early morning, each hot summer day, a little business was done in each store; the barkeepe s found occasion to wash a few glasses and bruise a little mint he b fo,,ed boy drove his cow to and from theTa : corn-bread or b.scu.t hung at breakfast time about each residence But as the sun mounted into the sky a uni- versal lethargy settled over the scorching village, and not unt.1 the slanting shadows of evening fell did life reappear. ° ""^ The idle sojourner might spend his time in this lazy iffTc rr ^7^^" Court periods, even to the day sional dog fight, unless, perchance, it were a quarrel between the owners of the dogs. Lazily the sun came up the day before Court ; lazilv the inhabitants of this sluggish village moved, wh;n they did move; lazily the stray pig meandered along the side of he unpaved streets, picking up an occasional morsel; lazily a flock of gabbling geese waddled through the lOO i- Court Day dusty road seeking the nearly dried creek bed adjacent to the village ; lazily the unshaven barkeeper, with closed eyes, sat before the inn on the flat stone pavement in his tipped-back chair. One could not easily have found a creature in this village that was not infected by the lazy sun, which, day after day, crept through the sky and leisurely sank toward the earth into the tree tops, glow- ing a second through the branches, seemingly undeter- mined whether it were not best to pause awhile upon earth's edge before dropping over and rolling out of sight. ^ Opening of Court day brought a change. Bustle in and confusion about the tavern. The long dining-room tables were "set " by break of day; the kitchen stove was red and furious, the negro servants moved as if they actually enjoyed motion ; piles of vegetables, a quarter of beef and several boiled hams spoke of the coming feast The freshly shaven barkeeper, with freshly filled bottles and a pile of freshly cleaned glasses, no longer sat beside the door in the tipped-back chair; he too was ready for action. The iron gates that barred the main entrance of the court-house yard were open and the windows to that « Hall of Justice " were unshuttered. Even the stray geese had moved to other scenes, the wandering pig had not been loosed that morning, and the boy had come and gone with his cow before the sun had risen. The village was awake and the very buildings themselves took on a difl^-erent air — the residents were in touch with life again and eager for the coming fray. The word fray is not inappropriate, for many were the men who had ridden to this court-house on horseback and returned home in an improvised spring wagon hearse; many have been the feuds that, argued in the Court of Stnngtown County's capital by the mouths of the law- lOI Stringtown on the Pike yers, have been settled, immediately after the Court adjourned, in the street by the mouths of pistols. Men came to Court, antagonists led to enmity by some trifling incident, and grouped themselves into clus- ters ; one clan went to Jim White's tavern, the other went to Jo Sweet's. They stood in separate groups about the streets, and scowled, but did not speak when first they chanced to meet ; they visited their respective bar- rooms again, and grew surlier and thought meaner things with each uplifted glass ; now they growled when group met group and looked defiantly at each other; another visit to the tavern, and when the antagonistic groups next came together their tongues were loosened, pistols flashed in the sunlight, and another " case " was made for the opposing lawyers to beat the air over at the next term of Court. 1 02 /ourt J by :Ius- ther bout first bar- iner 'hen lerj istic led, was • at CHAPTER XV STRINGTOWN JAIL INTO Stringtown County Seat from the flat Creek road the three horsemen rode leisurely towards the county jail. As they passed, a boy swinging on a grape- vine that dangled from a hackberry tree near the first house by the roadside gave a yell that carried with it the information that only a country boy can put into a wordless cry. Immediately from the house a number of faces peered, some black, others white, and yet, aside from the cry of the boy, no other voice was heard. Scampering from his place, he ran after the passing horsemen, following their footsteps in the dust ; the yell of the boy was repeated as house after house was neared, and a flash of faces could be seen in the windows ; an occasional female form, perhaps with broom in hand as an excuse for outdoor appearance, stood motionless on the front porch ; a gathering of boys thronged about the heels of the horsemen, and old Cupe, well known to every person of that village, became the centre of attraction. Time and again had he ridden on horseback into that village unnoticed ; but now, he was stared al by men and women, followed by hooting boys and preceded by snarling dogs, for each boy owned a dog, which, as his young master fell into line, sprang from cover and joined the four-footed advance-guard. Thus Cupe, 103 ii ii'i Is ^!( Stringtown on the Pike with his snow-white beard, his bleached woolly pate h.s shiny wrinkled face, his garments of patches of many colours, was ushered to the jail of Stringtown County The troop of snapping dogs, that included in Its membership every species, from a short, bench-legged fice to one gaunt coon hound, moved in front; on either s.de of the prisoner rode an officer of the law, while behmd came the troop of urchins, black and white, r .1 KrT^"''^ "'"'^'^ no director; on they went tL ton fT' '''' ^1 '° ^'^ county-jail; into this he troop of dogs turned, and simultaneously arranged hemselves about the entrance to the jail. Too well did hey, dumb brutes as, they were, know the ending of the journey of these horsemen. Then, amid the clustering of boys and dogs, the three horsemen dismounted and pressed the.r way through the gaping crowd. A heavy knockmg at the door brought the « Innkeeper," who signed a paper handed him by the sherifF; the form of Che two officers remounted, and, leading the riderless horse turned back toward the world without ; the boy and dogs scampered after them, and the back street was vacated by every creature ^ with one exception. The great, gaunt, old coon hound, with lank sides, made no movement when the others departed; he stood with drooping ears and uplifted nose silently facing the door the air, h.s ungainly tail slowly wagged back and forth h.s long, red tongue lolled from betjfen two ivory in -^ ors, and from its tip an occasional drop of spittle fell upon the earth. Motionlers he stood with eyes set upon the gnm door; and then, closing them', he pointed his •;ose s,„ight upward, and from his thrJat a long plain- tive howl arose that, beginning low and weird, reached 104 U " Stringtown Jail to a height seldom heard from hound's throat, and then descending, died away in plaintive sadness. Again thj dog howled and listened ; and not hearing a reply, again louder than before, he bayed the silent door. This last appeal seemed to bring an answer, but one that human ear could not have caught. Turning from his place, the animal crossed the narrow street and carefully selected a bed of thick dog-fennel beneath a clump of wild black-currant bushes, turned "three times 'round " sinkmg each time lower than before, and then dropped upon the earth and curled himself into a heap, where with ey-s closed, his sentinel nose pointing toward the new home of his old master, he lay motionless. The jailer conducted Cupe to the second story of the jail and halted before one of the back cells. " £f et am pert'nent t' de yocasion," said Cupe, « befo yo' go t' de trouble ob openin' de doah, de pris'nah ud ax a quistion." « Certainly," said the jailer. " Fo' some fo'ks dis heah room am all dat kin be 'spected, but fo' me, ef et am de same t' yo', a front room am moah t' de taste." The jailer thrust his key into the lock. " Yo' know bery well dat Cupe am not gwine t' make yo' no trouble, an' he doan ax no — " the negro stopped, put his hand to his ear, as if listening to a sound un- heard by the jailer— it was the mournful howl of his old hound— then gave a sharp, penetrating whistle, and continued his sentence — « lux'ry. Ef de front room am empty, et won't cost yo' nuffin' moah t' open an' lock dat doah instead ob dis heah doah. A doah am a doah t' de man what opens it, but dah am reasons f de man what rests in de room fo' wantin' t' be behind one doah instead ob 'nuddah." lOS Stringtown on the Pike " De fac' an, Ma'se Kindum," said the negro, quick to observe that ■„ getting a reply he had gained a point, dat Cupe am not growlin' at de room, but at de place de room s,ts ,n. Ef de sunshine an> de moonlight could would n t be no sort ob argyment. But Cupe hab seen de sunshme an' de moonlight all ob his life, an' he doan know jes how long a spell he '11 be heah. Yo' hab knowed Uncle Cupe sense yo' wah a chile, Ma'se Kin- hT' Tt ^"'""f ,^"- hta too, an- do;n knowfno nahm ob him needah." the^^,nr'" "'i""'""' *= W. led Cupe to the front of the buddmg and opened one of the two front rooms. J^ "T ^"j" '■""'' "■' "^^ '»'••«' »"d cour- tes.ed as only one of the old black uncles of Kentucky could do, but his profuse thanks were latgely lost u^,^ the jailer, who without a word turned and departed Steppmg to the barred window, Cupe remarked : '« De sunshme an- de moonlight am monstrous thin when dese heah wmdahs am considahd, an' et am cut inter slice! by de .ron bars but Cupe hain't done nuffin' t' make h.m afeard ob light what shine cleah in de sky erXo cross bars eider. 'Sides, he wan' .' talk t' h^fren"^ '' and pressing his sable face against the bars old Cupe eazed strange, he murmured, «ef Dgawge Wash'n't'n hab gone back on Cupe." Presently hi! aged eyes caught s.ght of a weed in the opposite fence cofner tW, as hi vo.ce sounded, began to yibrate as if uniform blo^s were bemg struck upon it, and peering at the clump of dog- fennel at ,ts base he made out the curled-up form of his feuhful dog, who, with beating tail, raised nose and open io6 m Stringtown Jail eyes, was staring at the face of his master. " Yo* am only a dawg," said Cupe, " but yo' may hab work t' do, Dgawge Wash'n't'n, befo' yoah teef git dull ; put yoah head down an' stop yoah tail, an' keep yoah strength ready fo' de time ob need." 107 CHAPTER XVI p 11 CUPE IN JAIL 'pHUS .he jail life of these two friends began , one ^ contented outside the bars, chained by love to him betd the" ' "" "I"' '"""'"^'y "« '- ™" - d^ " nT, \J'Tf- ^""'"^^i""^ Cupe and howling ' Dgawge Wash'nVn " both grew silent under the con refused to talk concerning his "case", and all the sp,r, see.e to have left the dog, who liv;d on d^^^after day seemingly without food, but only seemingly, for ,he hound of Kentucky knows how to prowl at nilh A„ attorney had been provided by the Cou^ f defe^S PoSv t'o ' °" '"''' '''''"'' positively, although pohtely, to answer any question or make any statement beyond the fact that « es the Co>h. did n't git no "Ice Cuptf^eaeh e^"" """" '" °"" '-'"^^^' " -'« ^o" " ^"t my object is to help you." hreJ^/^^'n^"' ^^^"'■' >'°' '"^>' ^« well spar' yoah breff, fo Cupe doan need no hein H. k • . j nuffin' t' be 'scused fo' Ll ♦ ' , *'^'" ' ^°"^ scusea fo, he hain't stolen noh hJri n« money, an' he doan 'tend t' hab no 'scuses m.H K lawyahs fo' what he hain't done." '"'" ^^ "But you admit that the money was stolen ? » Vo am de man what say so -not me. Ef Cune I08 ^ Cupe in Jail had said de money wah stolen he would help find de t'ief. But de fac's am Cupc doan 'tend t' 'fy Prov'dence. De law am mighty, but de spell an' de sign am mightier, an' yo' kin tear dis nigger's eyes out befo' he will cross de worlcin* ob de sacred spell. De money am gone, Mr. Lawyer, et am not t' be seen, an' et will stay gone until de sign come right fo' et t' come back." " If the sign don't come right before Court opens, you will go to Frankfort Penitentiary, Cupe." " Dah am honest men in de penitentiary an' t'ieves loose on de outside, Mr. Lawyer, an' yo' can't make Cupe try t' sarcumvent de signs by no sech argyment es dat." The days passed. A few weeks would bring the con- vening of the Court. Not one word would Cupe say concerning the problem as to the disappearance of the money, that much-talked-about gold. At last the per- plexed lawyer conferred with Judge Elford, of String- town, concerning the case, and that personage made a visit to the jail and appealed to the stubborn prisoner. He was ushered into the cell of his humble friend, who appeared to be very much surprised at the honour ex- tended by the unexpected visitor, but quickly recovering his wonted presence of mind, his first act was to apolo- gise for the barrenness of his temporary residence. " Yo' mus' 'scuse de poverty db de s'r'ndings, Ma'sc Elford, 'case de fittin's ob de room am fo' pussons what doan keer fo' lux'ries. Ef yo' had 'nounced de fac' dat yo' 'tended t* call, de conveniences would hab been sech es de yocasion demands." " Never mind the room, Cupe ; I came to talk with you." "'Deed, Ma'se, yo' 'sprise de ole nigger; take de cheer." 109 n Stringtown on the Pike The judge seated himself in the only chair the cell afforded, and Cupe stood expectant before him. "Cupe, your attorney informs me that you refused to gjve him information concerning the lost money. Now you know that I am your friend, and I have come from Stringtown expressly to advise you to tell everything you know about it." "Yo' am my fren', Ma'se Elford, 'deed yo' is, an' Cupe hab known yo' sense yoah muddah held yo' on her knee. When Cupe first saw yo', yo' wah a baby in de ahm, an' now yoah hair am white." " True, Cupid, true." " An' no man in all dis county ebah say a word ob wrong 'g'inst yo', Ma'se Elford. Yo' am a fren' t' Cupe, yo' say, an' Cupe say, no bcttah fren' could Cupe hab." ^ « Then, Cupe, do as I direct and befriend yourself." "An' what do yo' 'vise?" "Tell your attorney all you know concerning this matter. You are in a serious position and in great danger of going to the penitentiary for life." "Yo' doan mean it, Ma'se Elford?" Cupe said appealingly. " Yes, I mean that unless you tell all you know and assist m recovenng this money it will be my painful duty to sentence you to the penitentiary." " Et ain't de pen'tensh'ry, Cupe don't keer fo' de pen'- tensh'ry, it am de sah'ful 'vice yo' gib. What hab Cupe done t' yo', Ma'se, fo' t' make yo' ax him t' steal ? " "Cupe! " exclaimed the astonished man, "I ask you to steal ! What do you mean ? " "De money am not fo' Cupe, et am not fo' de law- yah et am fo' de chile. De spell say so, an' whoevah bre k de workm' ob de spell steal from de poo' chile. 1 10 Cupe in Jail Ma'se, yo' mcmberlec' dc day dat Cupe wait on de table when yoah wed'in' wah ? " " Yes." " An' yo' mcmberlec' when de missus yo' lub wah buried in de earf, he Stan' by de grabe wid de strap in his han'. Yo' mcmberlec' what Cupe say den ? Es de pahson read out ob de good book an' close de page an' raise his eyes an' say, * Earf to earf an' dust to dust/ dc shaddah ob a cloud rise sudden like, an' de great drops ob rain spattah obah de cofHn lid, an' dey keeps a-fallin' while de shiney coffin case wah bein* sot down into de grabe, an' when Cupe rise up from holdin' de head-strap yo' wah lookin' inte' Cupe's face. An' den what did Cupe say ? " " *■ Blessed are the dead the rain falls on,' " replied the Judge. " I remember very well how you said that to me then." "An' so do Cupe. An* when Cupe comes t' die, Ma'se, he doan wan' no ebil sign t' follow him inte' de tome." " Of course not, Cupe." " Ma'se, yo' 'spect t* go t' meet de sweet gearl de rain fell on when yo' kneel in de yallah dirt an' bow de head ? " " God knows I do, Cupe." ** An* what hab Cupe done dat yo' should ax him t* go t' de debbil — what hab de ole nigger done t' yo', Ma'se Elford ? ** " Nothing, Cupid — nothing. I know too well your faithful heart to see you suffer as you surely must unless you assist the law in clearing up this mystery, which I firmly believe you can do.** " Ma'se Elford, Cupe kin *scuse yo' de sin yo* ax Cupe I* do *case yo' doan know what Cupe know an' III Stringtown on the Pike can't see de ebil ob yoah words ; but, de gol* am fo' de gear], an t dat yinnercent chile it mus' go. De spell am workin' out 'cordin' t' de sign, an' ef de law pull Cupe s arm an leg off, ef et buhn de flesh an' scotch de bone ob de ole nigger, no word will he say t' blame yo'. hf yo be de jedge t' hab et done, no cry shall come from Cupe. But when yo' ax Cupe t' bre'k de workin' ob de sacred spell yo' raise de debbil t' burn de nigger's souL De sweet missus what die wid her han' in Cupe's I'" 'aTu^^!"""^ ^^y ^''^' ^"' ^ ''■°°P °b ^"geJs, am on de uddah shore, an' when Cupe lay down an' die, an' his spernt go t' de shinin' Ian' he mus' say t' de angel missus c Cupe did his duty by de chile yo' left, an' he ^^. i',/"^. ^y ^' "''''" ^"^'^ ^'^^^ ^^'"^ in his place.' Ma se Elford, yo' am pow'ful welcome in de present bidin place ob Cupe, but ef yo' keer fo' de feelin's ob de ole brack man, doan ax him t' steal money from de orfun Chile, doan ax him t' lose de sweet smile ob de deah missus what die in de ole mansion ob de long-ago. De breezes ob summer am pleasant t' a brack skin, de sunshine feel good t' de wrinkled face, but de pen'tenshry am cool, an de nigger am used t' work, an' ef he die in de prison standin' up fo' de right ob de orfun, he will step out ob de prison shade int' de sunshine ob Heaben." 1 he man of law was abashed and silenced by the rebuke of the unlettered negro. He saw that no living man could influence the fanatical slave. Rising, the judge held out his hand. ^ " T'ank yo', Ma'se Elford fo' lis'nin' t' de argyment ob de ole nigger, but et bre'ks his heart t' hab yo' go widout takin' a drink ob milk er a drop ob sump'n'. Howsumebbah, yo' will 'scuse de barrenness ob de yocasion case Cupe did n't 'spect sech comp'ny." The days passed swiftly. The entire community 112 Cupe in Jail became deeply interested in the pending trial. The large sum of money that had disappeared from the iron chest m Cupt's room the night of the hurricane would have been a godsend to the attorneys, and the county as ^vell, could it have been found, for it seemed that the Corn Bug had left no legal heir. So Cupe's anxious counsel strove to obtain a confession, apparently for the purpose of saving the negro from the penitentiary, i^t de gol am gone, et am gone, an' Prov'dence doan want no nigger t' put in his mouf," persisted Cupe. The key to the chest had been found on Cupe's person indeed he cid not deny the fact that the gold had been m his charge to the date of its disappearance, but still he disclaimed secreting the money. At last the conviction became general that, realising that his master could not live until morning, Cupe had hidden the gold before he had started for the physician on that fearful New Year night Immediately after the visit of Judge Elford his home was sought by the lank village clerk, who stood nearly alone in that he believed in Cupe's innocence, and so expressed himself to the judge. Elford made no de- claration concerning his own opinion, but said that his every argument had been used in an endeavour to induce the old negro to disclose the location of the treasure. 1 he judge volunteered the information, however, that Cupe most determinedly resisted every appeal to assist in clearing himself from suspicion of having committed the crime. He shook his head when the clerk asked concerning what might be the result to Cupe in case he remained steadfast. « The evidence is circumstantial, but sufficient to con- vict him." « And is there no chance ? » asked the self-constituted champion. "3 Stringtown on the Pike "None," the judge replied; "at least," he added, "none that his attorney will think about." / The clerk looked up inquisitively. "No," Elford repeated, "none that will likely be thought about." He went to his book-case, took from it a well-worn volume, opened it and laid it on his desk. Then, as if in answer to a voice calling him, put his hand to his ear and listened. " I shall return in a few moments," he remarked, and passed from the room. There was no intimation in the tone of the judge that a connection could be drawn between the legal document he had, opened and the case of Cupe. Apparently the book had been taken from the shelf with an object that had no bearing on the presence of the clerk. And yet Mr. Wagner felt that in this book was the clue that Cupe's attorney would overlook and tha^^ the judge could not honourably mention. He moved to the open volume, and glanced at the heading of the page. It was a report of a case in the Barren County Circuit Court, but the heading was sufficient for the sharp-eyed and quick-witted clerk, who needed but one glance, and then, before the judge re-entered, stepped back to his place. No allusion was made by either man to the open book. " Should you like to visit Cupe ? " said the judge ; " you know him well ; perhaps you can draw from him the secret, and serve the commonwealth where others have failed." " Yes," replied the clerk ; " I shall go in the morning." Judge Elford sat down at his desk and wrote an order. ' Mr. Joseph Kindum, Keeper of Itringtown County Jail. " Dear Sir : You will admit the bearer, Mr. Wagner^ to the cell of Cupid Hardman as often as he calls, and permit him to rcmai:; with the prisoner each visit as long as he wishes. (Signed) 1,4 "J. B. Elford." "': i ,. h Cupe in Jail The clerk bowed himself out, the judge closed and replaced the book, and then sat in meditation. « It is the only chance for misguided old Cupe, who means no harm, he murmured i " God forgive me if I have done a wrong." (I •' "5 Wl CHAPTER XVII "TOO SLOW PO' A COON AN' TOO FAST FO A POSSITM " A CURIOUS spectacle was that of Mr. Wagner who, after his interview with the judge, made repeated journeys to the prisoner in the^tri^grown county ja.l. Astride of a mule, his long legs neariy dragging the earth, the man of music as well Is letters patiently rode back and forth. The order of the uTge gave him immediate access to the cell of Cupe, and his V|Sjts were invariably of extraordinary length. Not a little curiosity was excited in the mind of the jailer, who however, recognising that the order of the judge re ieved c"" !iV7-^'^'''^y> gave himsel/ nl personal concern. The tongues of the village gossips naturally were not less active than were their minds f and ever^ morsel of evidence, imaginary or otherwise, concerning Cupe and his secret was chewed threadbare. The case became renowned. A score of "killings" could not have excited the interest which this mystery raised Cupe was the subject of general comment and specula, fon and could he have known the remarks tha't were made about h.m he would - providing he was as vain and fond of notoriety as at that time were most of his race - have been a happy « nigger." Of these remarks, however, he rested in ignorance, occupying his time as best he could between the interviews to w'hich he wa subjected by his attorney and the visits of his friend, the btringtown clerk. ' While it is true that his counsel had been appointed ii6 t f to o ft i; f have T a ke] ingly way « ClglU dowi oldc shad doai) this thou u day ..AAr, udua Cup "Too slow fo* a Coon, 8cc.'* to defend him, it was no less true that this same attor- ney was deeply interested in uncovering the hidden gold. The lawyer's personal fees would unquestionably be greater if he could be the means of discovering the money, and his professional reputation would also be increased. So, at last, after all attempts to induce the accused to unbosom himself had failed, he decided that he would search the garments of the negro for evidence of some description, for, possibly, Cupe had something secreted about his person that might shed light upon the subject. The jailer, on being questioned, said that the only search, so far, had been of the pockets of the old slave, and that nothing was found therein save a knife and some unimportant trinkets. " I shall bring a change of garments for the old fool," said the lawyer, "and have the patches of the ragged ones ripped apart." That afternoon Cupe heard a gentle rap on his door ; a key was awkwardly thrust into the lock and hesitat- ingly turned. The door swung back, and in the door- way stood the youngest child of the jailer, a little boy of eight. " Uncle Cupe," said the child, " the front door downstairs is unlocked, and you can go home." The old darkey patted the urchin's head. " De sunlight am monstrous sweet, honey, but de shade am s'lubrous, chile. Who tole yo' t' open de doan fo' Cupe ? " " I jest heard pap and the lawyer talk and say that this would be the last day you would be here, and I thought I would let you out." " Yo' did, chile, yo' did ! an' so it am t' be de las' day! Go back, honey, an' doan yo' nebbah open no uddah jail doahs ; keep yoah ban' ofF de key." *• You are goin' to have a new suit of clothes, Uncle Cupe." 117 Stringtown on the Pike ** Who tole yo' So, chile ? Cupe doan wan* no new clo's." " Mr. Putter will bring them to-day, and take away your old patches." " Take de key out ob dat doah, chile, an' hang et back on de hook yo' took it from an' doan yo' say nuffin t' nobody 'bout tryin' t' let Cupe out ob de jail, 'case yoah pap wo^i't like t' hab yo' tole it. Shet de doah, honey, Cupe am bery comfor'ble heah, fo' de shade am good fo' de '\ lexion." The negro again patted the head of the innocent little one and gently closed the door. The key was turned, withdrawn, and silence reigned again in the cell of Cupe, who stood for a time meditatively. " An' so dey gwine t' take 'way de ole clo's, an' fo' what? Dab ain't no use in runnin' no risk, Cupe; bettah yo' fix de mattah no»v." Stepping to the grated window, he cast a glance across the street. " Yo' am in yoah place, Dgawge Wash'n't'n ; am yo' ready fo' yoah duty ? " The dog raised his head, stood upright and cast a joyful glance at his mas- ter. " Stan' still till I tole yo' t' come, Dgawge — stan' still." Grasping the knee of one leg of his trousers with his hand, old Cupe gave a bright yellow patch a jerk that tore it from the brown garment beneath, which, strangely enough, proved to be perfectly sound. Then he opened a slit in one edge of the patch and removed from it a tiny iron key. « Yo' is safe nc /, but yo' will be safah wid Dinah," said he; then he replaced the key in the fragment of cloth and rolling it compactly, tied the package firmly with a string that was drawn from beneath another patch. Stepping to the barred window again, Cupe spoke to the dog, who, expectant, stood Ii8 "Too slow fo' a Coon, &c." in the position he had assumed upon first hearing the voice of his master. " Come heah, Dgawge," said Cupe ; " yo' hab work t* do now ; come heah, yo' houn'." The dog advanced slowly, until he stood with upturned face beneath the little window. " Yo' see dis heah jew'l ? " said Cupc, holding the roll beneath the bars ; the dog gave a low whine. « Yo' am t' carry it home, Dgawge. Go home wid it ! " commanded Cupe emphatically. He flipped the parcel into the air, and it fell into the open mouth of the faithful friend. " Go home t" Dinah ! " com- manded his master again ; and instantly the brute turned about, gave a leap that carried him to the opposite fence, the next carried him over the fence, and then he vanished in the weeds in the direction of Stringtown. As the dog disappeared the negro turned his gaze diagonally through the grating, and caught sight of the attorney, who had just rounded the corner of the blind street. He was advancing toward the jail, and beneath his arm carried a « store " wrapped package. " Yo' kin come in ef yo' wants t', Mr. Lawyah," chuckled the negro ; " de front doah am unlocked, an' yo' need n't knock. Yo' am welcome t' give Cupe a new suit ob clo's now. Ya, ya," he chuckled, " yo' am a smaht man, Mr. Lawyah, but some smaht men am like some dawgs, an' caint cotch nuffin. Dey am too slow fo' a coon an' too fas' fo' a 'possum." 119 CHAPTER XVIII i i m THE TRIAL OF CUPE A ND SO old Cupe faced the day of his trial. Ob- •^^ stinately he held to his illogical course to the last moment. Perverse in his dett. nination to make no defence, faithful to his inherited and loved superstitions, careless of the effect his fanaticism might have on himself, heedless of the pleadings and scoldings alike of friend and attorney, with dogged indifference he main- tained the position he had taken from the moment of his arrest. The search of his old garments shed no light on the cause of his taciturnity, and when the case was called in court the defence could offer no rebutting argument to refute the strong but circumstantial charge of the prosecutor. When Cupe was ushered into the court room. Judge Elford, cold and solemn, occupied the chair of justice ; the twelve jurymen, the majority of them white-haired farmers, each with a box of sawdust at his feet, sat owl- like in the jury-box ; the contending attorneys in front of the judge frowned from opposite sides of a small table that held two piles of books; before the table rested an oblong iron chest, riveted with hammered nails that bound to its side several heavy crossed iron hoops. The hinges of this box were of hand-workmanship, and the massive clasp in front was of hammered iron. But few witnesses were called in behalf of the com- monwealth, and none for the defence. The witnesses 120 V ^ The Trial of Cupe ^ k sat on the front bench, and, contrary to Cupe's former assertion concerning " nigger " testimony, Aunt Dinah, with the little girl clasped in her arms, sat among them. Cupe was conducted to his place in the prisoner's box, and seemed the least concerned of those directly inter- ested in the case. All eyes were turned upon him and followed his every motion, as, indifferent to the gaze of the packed assembly, he threw himself carelessly into his chair, crossed his legs, leaned over and utilized the sawdust box at his feet, then throwing back his head closed his eyes and slowly chewed the remnant of a leaf of tobacco. Although a prisoner, the old darkey was a picture of contentment, seemingly as much at ease as a man in perfect freedom of mind and void of care might be, his mouth keeping time to his foot, that wab- bled gently up and down. The case was called, the witnesses were sworn one by one, and as each gave tes- timony it was evident that until I arose none of them had seen the money. Then the first direct and conclu- sive evidence was offered concerning this treasure, and for the first time old Cupe exhibited an interest in the proceedings. I knew that my testimony was likely to be harmful to my old friend, and when the sharp prose- cutor, having led me to the discovery of the old land deed, next asked if Cupe had exhibited any of the coin, I hesitated. Then it was that the foot of the darkey ceased to vibrate, the closed eyes opened, and before the judge or counsel could anticipate the words he kindly said : " Tole de trufF, chile." A sharp rap from the gavel of the judge was not enough to silence the old negro, who repeated : " Tole de trufl?"an' shun de debbil, chile." And so the story of how I had seen the layer of coin in the trunk was told, the words that could only help to 121 Stringtown on the Pike sentence the old man to the penitentiary. One by one the threads of rhe web had been drawn by the prose- cutor ; the existence of the money was proven, and the facts that it had been in Cupe's charge, and that the box was locked when the key, which had then been used to unlock it, was taken from him the morning of the storm, were also laid before the jury. The astute mind of Cupe caught each thread of the testimony ; he could not fail to see, when the witness bench was cleared of* all except Dinah and the child by her side, that his case was hopeless. Yet he gave no evidence of despair, but with half-closed eyes sat as if his part were that of an unconcerned listener. At last the prosecutor called the name of Dinah Hardman, who arose and advanced to the stand. Won- der expressed itself on the face of Cupe, who mumbled : "to* de Lawd, an' yo' doan 'tend t' let dat nigger swoah!" This was the view taken by the defence also, for a lengthy argument followed, in which the two piles of reference books were nearly demolished by op- posmg counsel. At last the judge gave his decision, to the effect that while the case was one in which the com- monwealth was deeply concerned, still no white person was likely to be injured or defamed by the unusual pro- ceeding. It was really a case in which negroes would testify on each side, and the Court which proposed to allow Cupe to tell his story would not exclude the tes- timony of Dinah. Alas, poor Cupe ! Dinah, his faithful wife, corrob- orated the evidence I had given concerning the incident in the cabin to the very point where I had hesitated, and then she too wavered. It is hard to force a wife to speak the word that consigns her husband to the peni- tentiary, and even the judge seemed to feel the injustice 122 >li •f iji The Trial of Cupe of the law. He was saved the painful duty of issuing the command, however, for once again the prisoner in- terrupted the proceedings : " Tole de truff, Dinah." This time the gavel of the judge was laid gently on the desk, and he said kindly : " Speak, Dinah." And when Dinah had spoken, all doubt concerning the matter was at an end ; the gold I had testified to have seen in the chest was shown to have been in it to the night of Cupe's departure; the key had been in Cupe's possession from the time the chest was placed in his charge to the time it was handed by him to the constable. The witness bench was now clear, the case of the commonwealth had been made out, the pro ccution rested, ar ' old Cupe's doom was about to be sealed. Nothing the defence might offer could save him from the penitentiary. He remained with head thrown back, his mouth and feet moving in unison, his guileless face as free from care as when he rested on the corn-shuck chair before his cabin door after a hard day's work in the coolness of a summer evening. The closing words of the commonwealth's attorney — "We now rest our case" — came at last. The audience drew a long breath, the jurymen as by a single thought changed their positions, ai d it could have been observed that a huge plug of tobacco and the bright jack-knife of the foreman passed successively from man to man through the jury box and that without exception a liberal slice was cut from it by each juryman, all glad of an opportunity to exchange an old quid for a new one. Several persons in the audience left the room at this point, but remained away no longer than it might have taken them to go to the nearest tavern and return ; 123 I' -11 I IK : ' .« U:i: Stringtown on the Pike and in a few moments the lawyer for the defence arose and made his opening speech, marlcedly brief, in which he laid great stress on the past record of the defendant rather than on the strength of his case. He admitted to the judge that his only witnesses would be those who would testify to the honesty of the prisoner and to his good character, and, waving his hand over the audience, he added : « I make no distinction in the personality of the witnesses, any of the gentlemen from iJtnngtown will serve the defence." His plea for sympathy was adroitly expressed, but the judge ruled out all such evidence, stating that the charge against Cupe was Specific and that direct rebuttal of the commonwealth's evidence would be necessary. This ruling, certainly anticipated by the counsel, left him without any defence whatever other than the statement of the erratic prisoner, who might be expected to convict himself rather than prove his innocence. Cupe sat with closed eyes, uplifted face, wabbling foot and working mouth; but he was not asleep, for when his name was called by the clerk he rose, held up his hana and was sworn. Then occurred an innova- tion in the history of that court, for the judge arose aTtorntyl ' '""' """"^^ ''''''' '^ ''^ 'pP-'"g "The Court proposes that this witness shall be given the privilege of telling his story in his own way^nd without any interruption whatever from either opposing or friendly counsel. The defendant is not versed in technical terms, and might readily be led or driven to do himself a wrong if an attempt were made either to guide or disturb h,s speech. In the case under consider- ation-- a very important one to the commonwealth — the object IS to discover the gold as well as to convict 124 t The Trial of Cupe t the thief. The evidence introduced by the common- wealth has clearly established the existence of a large treasure, but no ray of light has been thrown on its pre- sent location, and Cupe is evidently the only person in a position to serve the State by revealing the truth. He can lighten his sentence by doing so." In conclusion, the judge called attention to the fact that Cupe stood alone, with all the world against him, and that under the circumstances he must be given full liberty to speak at length ; and, " if any questions are to be asked of him," the judge added, « I shall propound them to the satisfac- tion of both plaintiff and defence. Are you willing, gentlemen ? " he asked of the two lawyers ; and both answered in the affirmative, as well they both might, for neither the case of the commonwealth nor his own case could be injured by the negro. "Cupid," said the judge, "you may speak now; tell these gentlemen all you know about this subject, and re- member, Cupid, you have sworn before God Almighty to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Looking the judge in the face, Cupe removed the shredded fragment of tobacco from the rubber-like lips that covered his toothless gums. " Yo' is bery condescending Jedge," he said, " t' gib an ole nigger de 'spicuity ob dis yocasion. Howsum- ebbah, it won't take long t' spoke all he hab t' say con- sarnin' de case yo' am 'nquirin' 'bout. Dese heah gem'n an' ladies what hab spoken befo' hab lef ' mighty little fo' Cupe t' talk 'bout, 'less it be de ole chist, which, 'cep'n' Dinah, Cupe am de only pusson who undahstan's. Dey hab tole monstrous straight stories, dese gem'n an' ladies, an' Cupe kin sahtify t' de correc'ness ob dere statements an' et 'fords him pleasure t' say dat de trufF am in dem ail." 125 1%] 1 Stringtown on the Pike " The old fool ! " the prisoner's counsel muttered. But at a look fro-n the judge he refrained from making an open interruption. " Begin with the last time you saw the gold and tell us all you know about its loss. Never mind what others have said." "Wall, Ma'se, de las' time I saw de gol' wah as follahs : Ma'se Hardman wah growin' pow'ful weak de las' day ob de yeah, an' Cupe knowed dat de nex' mahn'n' 'ud see him a dead man. De signs had written dat fac' free times obah. An' den Cupe say t' Ma'se, * Doan Cupe ask yo' t' make yoah peace wid de pahson ? ' and Ma'se say in his same ole way, * Damn de pahson ! ' An' den he cough ag'in beiy weak-like an' look so cavahnous dat Cupe spoke ag'in an' say, 'What yo' gwine t' do 'bout de Susie chile when yo' lebe de planta- tion fo' de uddah side ob Jordan ? ' An' den Ma'se look kinder serous-like an' say, » Brung me some ob dat gol' an' let me see et ag'in ! ' An' den Cupe an' ole Dinah go t' de lof ' an' unlock de i'on box, an' Cupe take a han'ful ob de shiny crittahs, an' brung 'em down, an' Ma'se pick 'em up out ob Cupe's han' one by one in his fingahs, an' drop each piece ag'in case he too weak t' hole de stuff. An' den he say, ' Put de gol' back, Cupe, it am no use t' me now, an' lock de box an' go fo* de pahson.' " At this point the attorney for the defence arose and began to stride back and forth across the floor, and as he passed my side I heard him mumble, « The old fool ! " " An' den Cupe take de gol' back an' spread it ag'in in little piles all obah de bott'm ob dat chist an' pack de cotton waddin' close 'bout et." Interrupting himself, the negro advanced to the iron box, turned the great key, raised the lid and peered into 126 , • • The Trial of Cupe go • • its depths. He gently turned the box on edge so that the judge and jurymen could see its bottom, and then, moving his hand back and forth over the surface of the inner part of the chest, he repeated : "An' Cupe spread de gol' money all obah de bery bott'm ob dis chist. It wah five pieces deep an' eb'ry spot ob de bott'm wah cubbahed wid de shinin* crittahs. An' den de lid wah put down keerfully, an' de cubbah wah pressed t' its place, an' de key ob de cubbah wah timed, an' den dat key wah tooken' out an' put into Cupe's pocket." Cupe again interrupted himself at this point to mor- alise on the chest, but it could be seen that the Court was getting a straight story, one that would send Cupe to the penitentiary on his own words. " An' yoah bott'm wah cubbahed wid gol', yo' honey ob a chist; an' wha' am yoah gol' now? Befo' de Lawd, yo' am a fren' what sticks t' de ribs." The old negro peered intently into its depths, he moved his bony fingers lovingly over the bottom and fingered each of the protruding rivets — he seemed to derive pleasure in the touch — giggled to himself and arose, smiling. " Yo' am a true fren', yo' ole chist ; why doan de jedge ax yo' what yo' did wid de gol' ? " Abruptly turning to the judge, he said : "Ax de chist, Jedge." " Never mind the story the chest might tell," said the judge ; " what did you do next ? " " I put on de obahcoat an' pulled de comfort obah my ears an' drew on de coon-skin mittens an' stahted into de storm fo' de pahson in Stringtown." " You did not hide the money ? " " No, sah." "You started for Stringtown with the ke^ of the chest in your pocket ? " 127 it IL Stringtown on the Pike "Wid dis heah key s'cuah'ly in de pocket ob de pants," and Cupe held the key aloft. " Is that the chest, Cupe ? " " It am de chist ; dah ain't no uddah chist like it dis side ob Mexiky, wha' Ma'se Hardman got et in de wah. Yo' know, Jedge, he fought wid Gen'ral Butlah ob Cah'lton." " Is there no other key, Cupe ? " The old darkey rose up and faced the judge. « What yo' ax, Ma'se ? " »* There is no other key ? " repeated the judge, leaning over and gazing intently at the negro. For once it seemed as though Cupe's native wit had deserted him. He stooped down, thrust the key to its place, removed the great iron from its socket, held it up to the judge and said : "Dah am moah dan a t'ousan' keys in de worl', Ma'se ; yo' knows dah am uddah keys ; what fo' yo' ax Cupe sech a quistion es dat ? " " I mean is there another key like the one you hold in your hand ? " "Yo' ax es t' wheddah dah be 'nuddah key cap'ble ob unlockin' de lid ob dis chist, 'nuddah key like dis kev ? " "Yes." '' " Den Cupe kin ansah de quistion, case he knows de ansah. Dah ain't no uddah key like dis one, dah nebbah hab been but one key t' fit dat keyhole sense Ma'se brought de box from Mexiky. Ef Cupe wah on his dyin' bed an' de fires wah buhn'n' fo' his soul, an' de good Lawd should say, * Cupe, yo' kin save yo'sef de red-hot pitchfork ob de debbil ef yo' say dah am 'nuddah key t' dis cubbah,' Cupe could n't say de word t' save his soul lessen he would lie. Dah am no uddah kev. Ma'-- " ^' ! se. 128 The Trial of Cape "And so, Cupe, you left the gold in the chest that evening ? No person could have opened the chest with- out the key, and it was in your possession until it was delivered to the officer appointed to take charge of the effects of your master ? " " "Zac'ly." « How could the money have got out of the chest ? " 1 he judge spoke severely, and, eyeing Cupe, pointed mto the empty box. "Who say et git out ob de chist?" retorted Cupe, " not dis nigger." " It is not there." The negro dropped on his knees again and gazed into Its rusty interior. « Suah dah ain't no gol' t' be seen, an' Cupe am glad et ain't t' be seen. De sign what nebbah lie say de gol' wah fo' de gearl, but ef et could be scraped t geddah by de const'ble et 'ud go into de pocket ob de lawyah. Yo' am right, Ma'se Elford, de chist won't tell no (ales t' de lawyah, an' Cupe hab tole de truff an' nuffin but de trufF es he swore t' do. Dah ain't nuffin moah t' say." He lowered the cover of the chest and turned the key. Vainly did the judge try by art and persuasion to in- duce the old man to add to or detract from his statement j he declined to alter his testimony in any way, but seated himself in the prisoner's box, thrust a shred from a leaf of tobacco between his lips, where, like a straw between two rubber shoes, it wabbled from side to side. With closed eyes and see-sawing foot, old Cupe sat silent. Then the attorney for the defence arose, and in a de- spondent tone, addressing the judge, said : « I submit the side of the defence to your Honour without argument and throw my client on the mercy of the Court." 9 129 CHAPTER XIX if f ti THE RIGHT OF CLERGY NEVER did the court of Stringtown County con- vene with spectators more intensely interested and more prompt in assembling. When the clerk made the opening cry every place was filled, and even the two side aisles were partly occupied by chairs brought from the bar-room of the nearest r^vern. The universal opinion was that the jury mus: find Cupe guilty j and the only question which perplexed the villaj^e was re- garding the penalty likely to be inflicted, I'he charge of the judge was soon delivered ; it was short, and so clearly drawn as to leave the jury no alternative but to bring in a verdict agai it the defendant. As the twelve men filed slowly from the room it required but little of the spirit of prophecy to foresee that they would soon return. After a brief consuhation the jury came back to the box, and the announcement was made by the court officer that they were ready to return their verdict. " Gentlemen of the jury, are you agreed ? " asked the judge. " We are," said the foreman, and handed the Court a paper, from which his Honour read aloud : " We do unanimously agree that in wilfully secreting a large sum of money which had been entrusted to his care Cupid Hardman is guilty of high crime against the commonwealth of Kentucky." " Stand up, prisoner," said the judge, " while the sen- tence of the law is pronounced." 130 I The Right of Clergy Cupid arose and looked the judge in the face. Then occurred a strange thing, for a cry from one in the aisle, who was standing upright at the back of the room, broke the stillness. " I ask for justice ! " Audacious interruption this, in a Kentucky court. The judge looked steadily at the intruder; every face was turned in the direction whence the startling cry had come ; every face, I may say, but one. Cupe neither moved nor changed expression. In the rear of the centre aisle, with a leather-bound book held high in his hand, Mr. Wagner, the Stringtown clerk, stood expectant, and as the eyes of the assembly turned upon him he repeated : "Justice! justice! I ask for justice— justice at the hands of the Court, your Honour ! " "Justice is the right of him who appeals to a court of justice," answered the judge. « For whom do you ask justice ? " " For the prisoner before you, for the slave, Cupid Hardman." ^ "Justice he shall have in accordance with the testi- mony. Listen to the charge." "Hold your word, your Honour. I ask for justice in the name of equity, not according to the testimony. Listen, your Honour, listen until you hear the statutory claim of him who demands the right." Bearing aloft the book, the uncouth man advanced rfowly down the aisle until he stood before the bench. Then, thrusting the volume into the hand of the slave he spoke in a deliberate, slow tone, looking straight into the face of the judge. « I claim for this slave, Cupid Hardman^the Right of Clergy, and this demand I make in the name of the law of this great commonwealth of 131 ill i Stringtown on the Pike Kentucky and on behalf of justice, for I believe him to have done no crime." The judge folded his arms on his chest and not less deliberately replied : "The claim is a legal one and accords with the statutes of the commonwealth. Open the book, Cupid Hardman, and if you can read aloud the Constitution of the United States, the brand may be applied to your hand and you may go forth freed from the charge pend- ing against you." The aged negro opened the book and read (or re- peated) word for; v ^rd the entire Constitution of the United States, and, having handed the book back to his champion, stood awaiting the next motion of the Court. " The brand ! the brand of fire ! bring in the brand ! " ordered the judge in a faltering, low tone. Turning toward the aisle, the lank clerk again held up his hand, which, high above the heads of the people, could be plainly seen from the corridor without. In answer to that signal, following the footsteps of the Stringtown clerk, advanced a figure familiar to nearly all who were present — the figure of the old Jew, Mose. The habitual, emotionless smile wreathed his glossy face, a smile that contrasted strangely with the solemnity of the occasion, a smile unquestionably out of place in the present assembly. He carried a tinner's charcoal furnace fired to redness, into the living coals of which was thrust a searing iron such as is used to-day for branding beasts. Placing the heated furnace on the floor before the negro, the Jew drew the brand from the glowing brazier and stood awaiting the next order of the judge. " Sherifl^ proceed with your duty ! Cupid, hold out hand ! " ordered the judge. your ■ j»% 132 The Right of Clergy The sheriff grasped the hot iron, Cupe extended his bare palm, the heateu metal came in contact with the living tissue, a puff of blue vapour shot from the contact surfaces, a sizzling sound followed, and a shudder swept over the spectators, many of whom covered their faces. A quick cry, loud and shrill, pierced the air when that vapour curled upward, and with a bound the little girl leaping from the arms of Dinah, sprang between the executioner and the victim. Striking up the hand which held the hot iron, she threw an arm around the waist of Cupe and stood defiantly beside him, shaking her tiny fist at the sheriff of Stringtown County. But Cupe, with extended arm still held before the sheriff, made no attempt to avoid the ordeal. He had not flinched, no cry of pain broke from his lips, no struggle to escape the brand of fire. "'Scuse de chile, Mr. Sheriff," he said gently, as with his left hand he tenderly stroked her hair. " She am but a leetle gearl an' lub de ole nigger. Go on wid de act ! " "Enough! enough!" ordered the judge; "you are free to go home, Cupid ; you are freed from the sentence of the Court, by the Right of Clergy." i 1 "The last time this plea was allowed in Kentucky was in the Judge R,chard Buckner, and as the prosecutrix was a white woman SfnTlhr^"'?.^ *° i"*'' °^'"« '° '""^ »'•"" Pr«i»dioes of r wh?te K;^i -T V *Y:'^^"*=«*g*'nst him was clearly insufficient. The if thfAr^^' "'^y sympathizing with the poor wretch, thought to make ff ' Th ""'""' 1'?'"^' ^°1 '^™' ""^ '"^^'"'^^^^ ^is attorneys to make it. The negro bemg tendered the United States Constitu- nnJ' A^l A *?^ *° '■"^'^ '■*' ^^ ""^ accordingly burned in the hand X,W1^,"f ^ k'T ^''^'^y- '^^' P'^^ ^^» shortly afterward (in i t^^If-^'^ ^y '^^ Legislature."- />4 JtT.^fucJty Law Reporter, A SOS- This statute was carried into Kentucky law from England where, as is known, the « Right of Clergy " was allowed but once to a claimant who was then branded in the palm or on the ball of the thumb to prevent a second appeal. Few Americans are aware that Stringtown on the Pike Many of the audience came to the bondman's side when court adjourned and shook the uninjured hand. Men praised the negro's fortitude, for Kentuckians love a brave man, b( he black or white ; and old Dinah, mumbling to herself, bound the heroic man's hand in a red bandanna handkerchief. At last the room was va- cated of all but the court officers, the friends of Cupe and the late piisoner. " You are free to go home," repeated the judge. " Yo' hab de t'anks ob an ole, ign'rant nigger, Ma'se Jedge, fo' yoah many kindnesses, but Cupe 'ud like t' ax a quistion." "Certainly." ' " Kin de chist go nome wid de nigger ? " "Yes." Cupe made a low courtesy, stooped over, and with his uninjured arm attempted to throw the heavy box upon his shoulder. The sheriff came to his assistance, and by their combined efforts the burden was lifted to its brawny resting place. As Cupid left the court room the sheriff remarked : « Devilish heavy for an empty box." The judge made no reply. And so the gold I had been promised and on which I had built great air castles was lost to me forever. With dragging feet I moved from the door of the court- house to the wagon of Mose, the huckster, and there, with arms clasped over my head, with face hidden from the light, leaning against the hind wheel of that dilapi- dated vehicle, I sobbed gently and nervously kicked the sod on which my tears were falling. The horse of the this curious old law ever had a footing in our land. See " Neck Verse," usually Psalm li, i, which if the prisoner could read entitled hirn, after branding, to his freedom, thus saving his neck. The Right of Clergy Hebrew, untied at the rear of the wagon, stood munch, ing the remnant of a dinner from the worn trough which hung on the back part of the wagon bed ; but I gave no heed to the beast, even when its hairj' lips were flipped carelessly against my cheek. A flock of barn pigeons whistled about my head and alighted near my feet, pick- ing up the scattered grains of corn that had dropped upon the ground from the mouth of the horse, but for once my hand forgot its cunning and no stone was raised Aunt Dinah, leading the little girl, passed me and climbed into the wagon. Mose placed the brazier in the wagon, having previously emptied the hery contents on the roadside, then harnessed his horse and proceeded to hitch the faithful beast in the shafts. I heard next the footsteps of old Cupe approaching, the iron chest upon his shoulder. The chest was deposited on the ground near me, and as the negro straightened up, the 'bus to Stringtown, filled to its utmost capacity, ' rolled by. A cheer went up in honour of Cupe, who waved his bandaged hand in return. As the omnibus rattled along I raised my eyes, and beheld near me in the tail of the covered wagon a round, red face, sur- mounted by a mop of bright red hair : it was the face of a boy about my own age. A derisive smile spread over the florid countenance, a mouth was " made," into which more sarcasm and irony were thrown than can be put into any other countenance on earth than that of a malignant boy, and a hand, red as a duck's foot, placed Its thumb on the red nose and twisted its fingers It was hatred a^ first sight. I, who stood by the wagon wheel, forgot my own troubles, straightened up and shook my fist defiantly back at the boy in the tail of the bus, and, grasping a clod (no stone was near), hurled It at thf rptrp^t-'trtrr form A~ 4.U- .. 1 • 1 . . , , -1 ^ ,orm. j-i.sx.iic vcnicie v uusJied in a 135 Stringtown on the Pike cloud of dust Cupe placed his hand on my head and muttered : " De signs am fulfillin' monstrous fas' an' de meanin' ob de sign t' yo' am — look out fo' dat Red-Head Boy f " 136 CHAPTER XX JUDGE ELFORD 'T^HE fo ■ ^v/l-g day another interesting trial was A conducted in the Court of Stringtown County. The force of the commonwealth was expended in a vain attempt to disprove the legality of the short will of the " Corn Bug" as recorded on the slate of the child and wit- nessed by the dead minister. Again the judge permitted the evidence of the negress Dinah to be taken, and in summing up the case, declared that both in intent and deed the law had been complied with in the drafting of that unusual will cojicetning the authenticity of which there was no doubt, for the handwriting of Mr. Jones was well known and Dinah testified that it had been drawn by the direct command of the " Corn Bug." The property of the " Corn Bug " was not claimed by kindred and, other than a disinherited, adopted brother, there were no possible heirs in law, for death had ended the line of descent. In sound mind and health, Mr, iTard- man had openly stated in Stringtown, in presence of the Court and others, that the land and all but two thousand dollars of the gold (that had no legal existence) was to go to the girl. She was his heir, and the Court must certify to the legality of the will and appoint an adminis- trator for the child. For that office the judge named Mr. Wagner, the clerk of Stringtown, who at once qualified and received his appointment. Thus when time for adjournment arrived tJ 137 day, the tragedy be- i. u I k Stringtown on the Pike gun in the tempqst of the dying year, 1863, ^ad closed so far as it concerned the present term of the String- town County Court. When Judge Elford returned to his home, exhausted by the cares of the days that had preceded, his form was bent more than usual and his footsteps lagged as he moved from the door of the 'bus to his own threshold. But he made no complaint. And when the kerosene lamp was lighted and the window curtains of the small front room were drawn after supper, the faithful student and unselfish judge sat once more before his desk, which, with its bookcase above, constituted the greatest treasure of his lonely house.) Gone were his children, out into the world, — they had left him long ago ; gone was the wife of his bosom — many years she had rested beneath the sward enclosed in Stringtown's white-palinged fence; gone were the am- bitions of boyhood and manhood ; all had been swept away by the resistless broom that had brushed the years into oblivion. His life had been spent unselfishly in behalf of his countrymen and his beloved Common- wealth ; no charity had appealed to him in vain, no wanderer had gone from his door unfed, penniless each New Year found him and penniless each old year left this man who spent the material returns that came with each season in behalf of his fellow-men, and gave his intel- lectual self to the cause of justice. Alone in his modest study sat the weary, venerable Kentucky judge, typical of hundreds of others who lived thirty years ago in that bi^.der State. And as he sat in the dim lamplight of that modest r om the record of his years arose before him, bearing again to his gaze the mother from out the long, long- ago, the boyish feet, the spring of youth, the ambition 138 Judge Elford of middle age and lastly the closing of life's hopes and cares m the edge of the ending that was yet to come. And then, as the chain of thought-links closed, he rose took from Its place in the bookcase ??bove him the leather- bound volume that he had opened .a the presence of the village clerk, opened it again to the same page, that which gave the account of the Case in the Barren County Court, and r.ad : « I claim the Right of Clergy for this Slave. Then Cupe's face ca ic up and the past was pictured. Again he saw the open tomb into which the casket had been lowered ; Cupe kneeling beside once more ^ylth strap in hand; again the face of the old darkey was raised as it had been in the long buried past ; the raindrops fell, patter, patter; the sound of the vanished raindrops, deadened to all but him who sat alone that night, came again to life, and the mood-struck man heard from memory's chamber the voice of the old negro who by his command had been so recently tor- tured, gently repeat : « Bressed am de dead what de rain rails on." Slowly the head of the careworn man fell upon the hands that were now crossed over the open volume. The aching forehead touched the printed page, and as recent events crushed into his mind the lips again murmured he sentence spoken over that book, in that same room the night of Mr. Wagner's visit : « God forgive me if I have done a wrong." 139 III CHAPTER XXI WHY THE HONEY BEE DON't SUCK RED CLOVER A CORN-SHUCK chair, tipped back in the sun- -^^ shine, stood beside a cabin door. Cupe, with crossed legs, one foot resting on a round of the chair, sat balanced thereon. The hanging foot was beating time to an aged violin, keyed to the highest tone, from which came the faipiliar tune : " Run, Nigger, Run, or White Man '11 Catch You," a favourite with ante- bellum darkeys. The hand that held the bow was ban- daged, but that did not disturb the peace of mind of the owner or injure in the least the tune he scraped from the loved instrumenf. Near the door a gaunt coon hound was peacefully sleeping, his nose between his forelegs, the tips of his flabby ears falling to the earth. In front of the negro stood a little girl with clean face and smoothly combed hair. She was clad in oddly ^ ut gar- ments, very prim, stiff, almost fantastic, but faultlessly clean. She was enjoying the music, and from time to time would clap her hands and dance artlessly and joy- ously. The lively tune, quite out of keeping with the player's sedate appearance, was accompanied at intervals with snatches of songs, of which the following are fair samples : Ya- - ya — ya — ya — ya, Look upon de mantelpiece, Han' me down my candle grease, Grease my cart an' grease my gear, Grease ole Ball behin' de ear. 140 Why the Honey Bee, Sec. Chorus. Dance, chile dance. An" a walk ole Hogan walk. An a walk ole Hogan walk. An' a walk ole ' Hogan walk, ole Hogan walk along. Ya — ya — ya — ya _. ya. De little bee suck de blossom, De big bee make de honey, De nigger wo'k terbacky, an' De white man spen' de money. Chorus. Dance, chile, dance, etc. '" When I went down ter Shin Bone Shank, De creek wah wide an' deep, I put my foot on de grey goose' back, An she carried me 'cross de creek. Chorus. Dance, chile, dance, etc. At each call of « Dance, chile, dance," the girl pranced and scampered around in true negro style, and when the chorus was over waited expectant for the next stanza. Occasionally oid Cupe excitedly jumped from the chair, anf wL h" " "^ '°" ^'"'^ •" ""'' ""'"J-^bah Giick a head ob clovah, nebbah. But de bumbie bee, what did n't make no promise t' dv. Lawd, iiuck bof red an' white clovah week- day an' Sunday." Agaw he child clapped her hands, and Cupe thrust a fresh leaf or tobacco into his flabby niocth. " Tell me another story, Uicle." The negro shaded his eyes with his unbour.d hand, and gazed intently over the difitant hill. « Chile, what yo' see coro'n' obah de rise on de Stringtown pafF? " Tie girl turned in the direction indicated, and quickly ■0 a wered : " A man. Uncle." ''Jump down, honey, run t' Aunt Dinah." Cupe arose with thisj unceremonious dismissal and walked toward the man, muttering as he did so : " P'r'aps et es bes' ef de conbersashun ain't hea'd by de honey chile; dah hab be'n bodin' signs ob late, an' et may be bes' fo' Cupe t' be alone. Las' night when de moon go down, de cheer an' de table creek an' crack, de kettle move on de harf, de doah push in an' out, but dab wa'n't no wind. De sign wah bad, an' Cupe am suah dat trouble am movin' 'bout." He turned back at this juncture, and spoke to the sleeping hound : " Yo' may come, Dgawge Wash'n't'n," and the old dog, obedient to his master's word, arose, yawned and came to his side. The stranger was Mr. Wagner, who was warmly wel- comed by the negro. Well might Cupe bid him a cordial good-day, for it will be remembered that by means of the patient instruction of Mr. Wagner, illiter- ate Cupe acquired a knowledge of the Constitution of the United States, and thus saved ^elf a term in the penitentiary. The tragic occurren , ivid in the mind of iht old negro, led him, o.i mec ig the clerk, to ex- trav -j. nee of speech and to t ,i.H so prolific as to give the hearer no opportunity to say i vord, 144 icd Why the Honey Bee, &c. « An' t' t'ink dat Cupe distrusted yo' when he seed yo' com'n' an' feared dat yo* brung bad news. Wah dah^ ebah so mighty a 'stake ! Come into de house, Ma'se, an' take a glass ob milk an' see de chile what yo' gladden wid de sight ob Uncle Cupe. Et wah a mighty close shave, Ma'se, an' t' t'ink dat Cupe wah afeard yo' brung bad news." The visitor entered the cabin and partook of a drink of fresh buttermilk, but notwithstanding Cupe's cordial welcome seemed ill at ease. At last he said : « Cupid, vou are aware, are you not, that I am appointed guar- dian for this little girl ? What 's her name ? " The countenance of the negro changed in an instant, and he gave expression to the oft-repeated sentence of surprise. "Spoke ag'n, Ma'se. De name am Susie." " I have been appointed guardian for Susie." " Yo' hab moah t' say ; go on." " You know, Cupid, that this is not an appropriate place to bring up a child. You and Dinah have not the opportunities necessary to the education and culti- vation of the girl. She is the heir of this large farm, and should have the advantages of a good education, and the company of playmates befitting her station." The shrewd negro intuitively grasped the meaning of the pointed words of Mr. Wagner. « An' why doan yo' let de nigger go ter de pen'tensh'ry ef yo' 'tend t' take 'way de chile ? What fo' yo' lead him back t' sorrah? Stan' up, Dinah, an' beg fo' de sake ob de honey deah. Yo' doan mean et, Ma'se Wagnah, yo' doan mean et ; yo' am jokin' wid de poo' ole man. Yo' 'udn't take de blos'm, yo' udn't cave in de heaht ob de two ole fo'ks ? " " Cupid, I am in earnest. The child must remain in lO 145 f ! Stringtown on the Pike my care in Stringtown. Judge Elford appointed me ad- ministrator." The old slave fell upon his knees, and with uplifted hands, with all the force and extravagance of the negro language, begged for the child he had raised. " De honey am our chile, I foun' de baby an' its muddah half starved on de grabe in Bloody Hollah. We wahm et by de fiah, we sit up in de night, an' watch obah et in de day j we promise de ma'se what wah t' keer fo' et es ef et wah de baby chile ob de ma'se hisse'f. Yo' won't take de pritty chile 'way, et am de light ob day t' de two ole fo'ks who hain't nuffin else t' lib fo'." " It must be^ Cupid : for the child's sake, it is best. However, you need not feel so disconsolate. Aunt Di- nah and yourself will have opportunities to visit Susie often, and she can come to the cabin occasionally. Pe- member, this is her cabin and land, you and Dinah are her slaves, and you may have the care of the land and live here." But explanations and soft words made no impression on either of the negroes. Although Cupid did all the supplicating, it could be seen that Dinah was not less heart-stricken. She stood by Cupe's side and silently wept, clasping the frightened child, who did not under- stand, yet realised that she was concerned in the trouble that had fallen on her two friends, the only friends she knew in the world. Weeping she clung to the neck of the old woman. But the scene finally came to an end, and Mr. Wag- ner insisted that the child be given to his care. *' You may bring her clothes later, Cupe," he added. " De clo's will come befo' da'k," replied the old man, " but yo' bettah let de chile change dem ole slippahs fo' de new pair. Dem wah put on fo* de purpose ob de 146 Why the Honey Bee, 8cc. dance." The change was made, and then Cupe offered no further objection to the decision of the Court. Clasping the frightened little girl in his arms her un- couth but kind-hearted benefactor retreated along the path by which he came. The sobbing child made no resistance nor outcry. Cupe stood in the cabin door, the violin lay at his feet, the flock of ducks jabbered be- side the fence, but were unheard, the bumble bee buzzed in the clover patch, but unseen. There was no song now in the heart of the forlorn man, no music, no folk- lore stories in his soul. His eyes followed the retreating figure of the lank officer with the child in his arms, until together they vanished beyond the crest of the distant hill. Then his gaze turned upon the vacant spot where, a short time before, Susie had danced to the tune of his merry violin, and a tear sprang to his eyes i lii rolled down his wrinkled cheek— the first tear he had shed during the sorrowful interview. Old George Washington lay curled up beside the door, and Dinah on her knees, holding in her hand a child's plaything a gourd cut to look like the head of a man — moaned inside the cabin. '^An' dah wah trouble com'n'," said Cupe i " dn sign could n't lie. When de table an' de cheer talk t ^eddah, an' de doah move in an' o-t =n de still night, et am a sign ob saht'n trouble. But i. h am deeper trouble yit to come ; when de two boys mix in de 'fairs ob de honey gearl, dah am worsah trouble fo' Cupe." Then he spoke to Dinah : « Git up, yo* fool nigger, what fo' yo' blubberin' like a sick sheep ? Doan yo' !<.now dat eb'ry fellah hab t' stan' his own toofache ? Doan yo' know dat cryin' salty tears doan stop no bleed- ing heaht ? Git de chile some clo's, fo' de nieht am com'n' ! " 147 ! 4 Stringtown on the Pike A little while later the devoted man mighj have been seen slowly trudging along the path the clerk had trod; over his shoulder he -arried a bundle containing the clothing of th. ciiiid ; now at his heels, with downcast head, as if he entered into the sorrow of his master, walked George Washington. fl'M 148 CHAPTER XXII " GOD MADE DE SIGN " npHE home of Mr. Wagner was on the Stringtown A pike, about one-th J of the distance between the southern and the northern extremities of the village. Its owner was not in affluent circumstances; still he lived comfortably. An unmarried sister acted as house- keeper, and it would have been difficult to determine by their countenances which was the older. However, no question could arise concernii;^ their relationship, for the maiden lady, fully as spare and nearly as tall as her lank brother, possessed features so similar as to bespeak the close family connection. Her face was kindly in its expression, and it was evident that Susie had fallen into good hands. The thoughtful judge had made no mis- take in the selection of the chil s guardian. To this home, that rested its fa* against the 'dge of the pike, and its heel-like shed in the n;> w lot that stretched back to the woodland pasture, the village clerk carried the unwilling charge he had taken from the home of Cupe. The girl was still sobbing ; she had refused the kindly advances of such of the neighbours as chanced to be in the street, and would not be comforted. It chanced that I stood bef( • my mother's door as, to- gether with her new guardian, she passed by, but she gave no sign of recognition when I called her name. Judge Elrord came out of his house and took her kindly by the hand, but she buried her face in the shoulder of 149 ■ '•J ; If * f Stringtown on the Pike the man who carried her, and refused to speak Th. s.ster o Mr. Wagner was alike unsuccessfurshe cidd get no k.nd word ; the untamed child refused to ea a j efused to play She fell asleep sobbing, and was a ntv a.d on the little bed that had been prepared Tor heTb^ he expectant and puzzled spinster. Then it was that a tap was heard at the door, and on opening it he bem form of Cupe appeared. Handing Mis Waene/the a s^it!" TT'" ^T' J"^S' ^^^°'-'^ ^^^ disturbed by a s.m lar knock, and opened the door to find the dis^ consolate negrp on the threshold. inside the door, but, ,n accordance with the custom of old slaves, refused to sit down. " What can I do for you, Cupid ? " " De light ob de cabin am gone, de clouds am risen an' Cupe ax fo' comfo't." "» ;; But what can I do for you ? " repeated the judge. Yo km send de man ob sorrah ter de pen'tensh'rv, fo he am t no moah use heah. Yo' kin do de duty yo' spoke 'bout las' week, Ma'se Elford." ^ ^ " Indeed I cannot. You have freed yourself from the penitentiary by the Right of Clergy " ^ « De law am pow'ful strong when a man wan's et weak, an monstrous weak when a man wan's et strong • ef a man wan's t' git out ob de pen'tensh'ry he can't St* de doah op n case ob de law ; ef he wants t' git into de pen tensh ry he can't git dah case ob de law De law am monstrous cu'yus." Cupe^i^'' ^°" ^"'' ^'"' '° ^° '° '^' penitentiary, "'Deed I does, case dah ain't nuffin t' lib fo' out ob ISO "God made de Sign" et now dat yo' hab took dc chile 'way. She am white an' Cupc am brack; but de chile wah raised from a baby by de brack man ; dc ole nigger promise Ma'se Hard- man t' keer fo' her 'til dcff come, an' he promise de muddah ob de chile befo' God t' watch obah her 'til she wah able t' keer fo' herse'f. Dese am serous tings t' promise t' de ma'se what am dead an' t' de angel mammy, an' t' bre'k de wo'd am wicked, an' Cupe doan want t' be walkin' free an' not doin' what he say on his knees he 'ud do. Ef de nigger am in de pen'tensh'ry an de dead ma'se come an' say in a dream : * Why ain't yo^ keerm' fo' de blos'm ? ' Cupe kin say back : 'caint L" aTu u ^ "'?.f "^ '" ^" >'' • ' Ef de sperrit ob de muddah ob de ch.le come floatin' into de cabin an' say : mi ^'"f^'^aby Susie what yo' fin' on de grabe in Bloudy Hoi ah ? ' what kin Cupe say ef he am free t' walk 'bout 'Deed, Ma'se Elford, I does wan' t' go ' de pen tensh'ry an' ef yo' keer fo' de peace ob min' ob de ole man yo '11 sen' him dah." "Go home, Cupid, go home and sleep. You will feel better m the morning. Susie is well, has a good home, and will see you often." " An' yo' won't lis'n t'' de claim ob de sah'rin' nigger? o«"i mi " I cannot." " No, C„p?d. "'"* "" "= "'•^" '■ ''^ "-'•-"■V .' " "An- yo' camt gib him back de chile > " The judge shook his head. A 'i-^y^.'/r "'•"' "^"P^ ™ ^«^"'n' ? Et am on de „ f what de ok nijer tole vo^ IZ Dc «» say dat de chile can't lib wid Cupe, but de .;>;; •51 ii i; Stringtown on the Pike ' say dat she mus' lib wid Cupe — ef she lib. Ef de law am right, dte sign am wrong. Who made de law ? " he vehemently asked. " Wise and good men," replied the judge. " A"' God make de sign. Do de wise man set hisse'f bove de Lawd ? Ma'se Elford, yo '11 lib t' see dat de Lrawd am biggah dan de law." ni B' i I IS3 CHAPTER XXIII SUSIE IS LOST JUDGE Elford found as the days passed that the ^ child whose lot had been cast among the negroes refused to be comforted by her friendly benefactors, bhe moved about disconsolate in her new home, spirit- ^s and moping the hours away. She shrank from Miss Wagner, she asked for no love, and gave none To escape the gaze of men and children, she would sit for hours in the back yard of the cottage, where, secure trom prying eyes, she spent the time listlessly gazing at the sky or the forest in the distance. Neither Cupe nor Dinah visited her, and both declared they would never do so. The entreaties of the judge and Mr. Wagner even the threats of the latter, made no impression on either of them. ^ " Ef yo' caint keer fo' de chile, what fo' yo' took her way from de home wha' she wah happy ? Ef Cupe go t' see de honey, it '11 only make de mattah wussah, to she 11 ciy her eyes out when he come back." " But you can tell her that it is best for her to stay in her new home. You can explain to her that she can be happy if she will try to forget her past life." " An' dah am uddah tings Cupe could tole her what ain't true es easy es dat, but de fac' am yo' tire yo'selb tryin' t' 'fluence Cupe t' do anything t' circumbent de spell. Dah am but one outcome t' dis heah mattah, eidah yo' 153 hi , 'i ill IMU II « U. i» '!' p L .J li. tt' Stringtown on the Pike mus- la de chile lib wlia' she b'long er yo 'll stan- -.M, hergrabe. De spell say dah am no'uddih end i^" '"' swe^fo^r"' ""' "'' "° "™'- ^'"P^ had a ready an- swer for eveo- argument and sat looking as glum as , deahVhead. Thus the child lived in ir frhome to i™; T"'"l"'''" «he care-worn housekeeper wT,t LT^Z ' "" '"* ^^ ""^ f"""^ empty. The g.rl had disappeared. The day before she had J "i"""- was evident that Te took the df" ^ "'"^ """• '' -eart. She left the rrom, ZXrtlZT ""Z- '° of the back yard, and to '.he til rf gi:'; td L' not speak a word. The next morningX fh Id and b garments were missing. From ben«,l! ,i ^^ of her faithful guardiaf catliU^h , !, , "">' '°'"'' into the back yard, out" and t.o 1 '^'''"'•/'"' '"^ ofwhichsheknewso ittle Could tb^'T "'"'' "'"''' modes, dwelling have se^n her rbl >, 'T' '" ""^ have seen her Lp herrarmTntf "tl^^'Tj"' burglar mlT do ,tZ tj """""''^ ^ " experienced close and Wk the do' T '"I"""'" ''"bethought, re- in ib. light of the ri" "'t™"M-> after which, herself SllJP ^ "'°°"' ""e artful child dressed nerseit rapidly, even to carefully tyinr her .k f last, stea ing throusb the Pl„l. / ^ . '"''"• ^t A startling whisper wen. from mouth to mou.h i- '54 ke' 'II stanV'side 2ndin'." a ready an- s glum as a ■ new home keeper went npty. The • had asked her conver- ngs. Miss that Cupid e the child vkh down- tears. It )f Cupe to 2 sunshine bed did Id and her •^ery touch 1 out, and ide world ers in the «y would s, and in 5uld have perienced 'ught, re- r which, 1 dressed aes. At ibed the ward the Susie is Lost Strin^own, when the news went forth that the ward of Mr. Wagner had disappeared. The search, begun in expectation of soon finding the child, continued through the entire day. Wells and cisterns were probed, ponds were dragged. ^ outh in Hi '55 ;! ! CHAPTER XXIV CUPE'S ADVICE TO HIS DOG the olHn ^' J ""' '"""'" "" ^' ^ '=^°'' friend of the old negro He was sitting in the accustomed chair be .deh.s cabin door. He had turned for solace to his faithful viohrt and long before the visitors reached the cabin we caught the mournful tones of a plaintivftune rtat spoke the mood of the musician's mind. George Washington loolted up and growled, but, evident^ ut der the command of an undertone from his master cosed his eyes and lowered his head. Cupe gave ™ gn of salutation, he continued his dolorous tune unril the intruders stood close before him, and could distin g..sh_^^ajew lines of one of the most plaintive of iCo Yo' ask what make dls niggah weep, Wny he like uddahs am not gay, What make de teahs roll down his cheek From early dawn till broke ob day ? Interrupting the song, Cupe lowered his vioh'n, arose and^placed h.s chair before the man, but took no notice « What are you doing, Uncle Cupe ? " "Sah'rin'." ^ ' " Have you seen Susie ? " " No sah." 156 taking me friend of 'med chair lace to his :ached the ntive tune George lently un- is master, gave no :une until Id distin- of negro in, arose 3 notice Cupe's Advice to his Dog " She disappeared last night." " I hab n't seed nuffin ob her." « I thought that perhaps she had returned to her old home." "She hab not be'n heah, an' I hab not seed de chile. " You are sure, Cupe, that you know nothine; of her whereabouts ? " « I hain't seed her, I tole yo', an' I hain't hea'd from her sense yo' took her 'way." "You will help us search for her, Cupid? You know the land well, you will assist in her recovery ? " "I hab had nuffin t' do wid de takin' ob de honey, an I will hab nuffin t' do wid de bre'kin' ob de spell De cheer an' de table talk ag'n last night, de doah shake in an out, an Cupe wah waitin' fo^ news ob trouble." He dropped his voice, and added: "An' when Dgawge Wash'nVn an' Cupe go out t' trail de coon, de headless dog come ag'n. Et wah down by the bars wha de ole man Doty wah killed, an de hant dog slip c ose an trot by Cupe's side, an' when Cupe walk ^ow de dog widout de head go slow, an' when Cupe move fas, de hant move fas', An' nuffin but nigger kin seedat sign; ole Dgawge Wash'n't'n could n't see de crutah Et wah a monstrous bad sign, an' Cupe tink ob de eh.le an' pray de Lawd dat de sign wah not pintin' t de yinnecent chile." ^ Mr. Wag. or, realising that he was losing time arguing with^;i)e uperstitious old man, turned to go. ^ « . y had better look in de cabin befo' yo' lebe; yo' might feel es ef de nigger had 'varicated ef yo' doan" ..upe opened the door, and Mr. Wagner stepped "into the room, Dinah sat beside the hearth J^ i,.J. head, but no other person was to be seen. Cupe 157 it Stringtown on the Pike pointed to each corner, to the empty space beneath the bed and conducted his visitor into the bft, whchco.' «"' "oVjtd "'^"k '^r""^ '"= i'on'chestsZ strings of dried corn, bunches of seeds and medicinal roots and herbs that hung about the rafters Leaving the house, Cupe insisted on a search h,..,„ made of the shed-stable ; indeed, he seeme a aid ^a! some spot ,„ which the child could be secreted ml be overlookei As Mr. Wagner entered the doo^ff .he hed-stable. my old black friend spoke to me in a W tone^u Did yo' see de Red-Head loy ag'in >'■ '"" "Keep yoah eye op'n, peel yoah eye fo" dat chile." poi^Mr Wa ' ""^".""^ ''•' ""^ '-'• f- « •'•is Zs^'Z^ returned from his fruitless search of As the visitors departed, Cupe besto»-ed upon them a veiy W bow, and having returned to his c7bin a„^ seated himself oi, the familiar chair, reached up to h hand of tobacco over his head, stripped a part of ah.f and thrust it between his Habby lipf ^ "'^ .S!t.°T ''?''• °S™6:' Wash'n't'n," he commanded • a d d,e four-foo»d friend laid its lank head on th knee nnger Yo bab work t' do, Dgawge, wo'k t' do t'- r^r'xo^rrecrr''- -^-X^'haBwo.^:-! -™«n°:"t;'til;Vaw;." '''""'■• '"'"'' '"'^'^ "^^-^^ 158 : beneath the , which con- I chest, some id medicinal search being i afraid that ed might be door of the ne in a low at chile." , for at this s search of return to jpon them cabin and up to the : of a leaf nmanded ; I the knee tiumb and : t' do t'- /o'k t' do Dgawge CHAPTER XXV THE HAUNTED HOLLOW 'pHE remainder of the day indolent old Cupe sat in h.s chair, seemingly contented when awake, but it would have been difficult to say just how much of the time he was awake. O-.asionally he hummed a ne^ro melody, agam he wouK .ange the exhausted tobacco eaf between h.s l,ps for a fresh one, but much of the time with closed eyes he sat motionless. Just before the setting sun reached the horizon its slanting rays streamed into his face, and then he called to Dinah • Brung de ole slippahs ob de honey chile and call Dgawee mto de cabin an' den shet bof de doahs, an' keep him Dinah obeyed without question. Cupe took two tobacco-sticks and fastened the shoes one to the end of each. He began then to walk' side-' ways, holding the sticks at arm's length, so that the shoes hung near the earth far outside his own tracks In this rnanner he slowly passed along, and as he did so caused the shoes to step as if a child were walking par- allel with his own footsteps. Across the dooiyard! over IAk k';. r" '""^ '"'°'' '^^ ^'"'^ ^'•^^k at the base of the hill, he trudged, and then, making a circuit, he came back again to the starting-place. "De deed am done, an' now dis nigger '11 see ef Dgawge Wash'n'fn am in fix fo' de work ob his life. jCI de dawg out, Dinah I Come heah 159 Dgawge. Stringtown on the Pike The dog trotted out of the house. Taking the nose of the brute between his thumb and finger, as he had done before, the negro muttered : '^ Et am cool an' pleasant hke t' de touch - de nose am fixed fo' de Za\ , T^T ^''PP^hs,Dgawge?"_and Cupe held them before the eyes of the dog_« Yo' see dese heah slippahs ? " The dog whined gently. I.JI^°' /!" "° /°°'' ^S'^^Se, but yo' bettah smell de leather fo yo' ham't no time fo' 'stakes now," and with these words the shoes were held to the doe's nose. p * "Now am yo- ready fo' de test ob yoah life Dgawge? Go fin' Susie! Go fin' de chile! H „ ro busie, Dgawge ! " At once the old cur thrust his nose close to the earth and began a zigzag trot about the dooryard. Cupe watched h,m intently, and when he neared the trail of the slippers became visibly excited. At this instant the hound stopped ; raising his head and dropping his lower jaw slightly, he gave a cry that stirred the hfart of his master with pleasure. ^h7LT ''"'"'k^' 'r"ff>suahl yo' am de crittah what kin keep yoah nose cool ef de weddah a^ wahm. tm Susie, Dgawge ! Go fo' Susie!" In reply, the dog started in a long lope with extended nose scarce depressed toward the earth, thus showing the aeuteness of the trail , following the exact coursf of the circk Cupe had made, he returned to the starting- pomt. « Yo. am a daisy of a dawg, yo' hab wo'k ^t' do, but yo don't git no suppah till yo' do et. Keep yoah nose cool, Dgawge." ^ r^S'fr^ P""'"S ;^^ ^^'PP^'-^ '"'o his breeches' pocjcet, Cupe, in obedience to rhe rajl o<^ r*..,-}, „..._ i6o ^ ig the nose , as he had tn cool an' ixed fo' de -and Cupe o* see dese h smell de now," and the dog's yoah life, e ! Hunt ' the earth 1. Cupe le trail of istant the his lower irt of his le crittah m wahm. extended showing t course starting- wo'k t* Keep reeches' ih, step- The Haunted Hollow ped Inside his cabin to partake of his own supper, while the hungry dog lingered outside the door. Returning after the meal was over, the old man looked at the star-bedecked sky, from which the last tinge of twilight was fast fading, and then glanced at the spot where his dumb comrade rested. " De hour hab come, Dgawge, de hour ob t.ial." Slipping on a roundabout jacket that hung on a nail near the corn-shuck chair, and thrusting into its pocket a twist of leaf-tobacco, the old man turned to the open door. " Dinah," he said, " ef yo' doan see de dawg an' me befo' mahn'n, dah ain't no cause fo' feah." " De moon doan rose 'til midnight ; what fo' yo' go ahftah de coon now?" asked Dinah. " Nebbah yo' min' de moon j dah am uddah crittahs dan coons." " Yo' hab lef ' yoah ax, Cupe, yo' hab lef ' yoah ax ! " cried Dinah, as her husband disappeared in the gloom. " Dah am no need fo' de ax t'-night ; de crittah what we hunts now am not in de tree no' in de grapevine tangle." The huntsman and his dog were now alone together in the starlight. Taking the path toward Stringtown, their course led them toward the brow of the hill. But before reaching the hill Cupe struck the toe of his left foot violently against a projecting stone. He immediately stopped, turned back, retraced his steps to the door of the cabin, and then recommenced his journey, muttering : « Ef et had be'n the right toe, et 'ud hab be'n a sign ob good luck, but t' stump de lef toe am an ebil sign. Dah ain't no resk t' be run I'-night. Dah ain't — " The slave stopped, his bent body sunk yet nearer the earth ; his mouth, still open, left the sentence incom- " i6l 'i ! rr I il'ii m I*; ! < t •I I- iii Stringtown on the Pike plete. He heard a rustle in the grass just before him, and then a full-grown rabbit hopped into the path, halted' momentarily, turned its great eyes, that yet glittered in the dusk, full upon the negro, and witii a bound crossed the path and disappeared in the briars. " De wussest sign what could be ; de rabbet nebbah cross de pafFouten de journey am leadin' i' hahm. An' et stop t'say, 'Go back, go back, yo' nigger, go back!' De crittah say et wid ets eyes. Monstrous bad am de endin' ob de walk ob de ma who go on when de rabbet cross de pafF ahead ob him. Dat wah not a libbin' rabbet, fo' de dawg did n't see er smell et. Et wah a hant." ' Back to the cabin went the negro and taking two ob- jects from a string behind the door, he c.refully placed them in his pocket. " De cha'ms wah fergotten, an' de hant rabbet know et — de cha'ms t' keep off (ie hoodoo from Dgawge Wash'n't'n an' Cupe. Now de start am right." Having thus corrected a grave blunder, Cupe moved rapidly until he reached the brow of the hill. Leaving the path at this point, he sought a small thicket, within which, by daylight, could have been seen an enclosure of stone that marked the foundation of an old building. At each end of the ruin two piles of stones were crumbling in the weather, the Mris of the chimneys of the haunted mansion. " Dgawge," said the negro addressing his dog, « yo' am in de sacredest spot on earf, de spot wha' de missus slep' her las' sleep. De shinin' face ob de suff'in' chile wah tu'n' t' glory from wha' stan' de 'simmon tree by yoah side. An' Cupe he kneel on de flo' ob de mansion what wah, an' hoi' de dyin' han'. De sah'rin' times am back ag'in, Dgawge, de eye ob de missus look into 162 aiwi The Haunted Hollow de hcaht ob de nigger, de sweet face rise up an' speak 'bout de blos'm ob a chile she lebe wid Cupc an' Dinah." The old man knelt in the grass nd raised his face to the star-lit he .ens. " De hlos'm am an -^ngel a-singin' hal'ujahs wid its muddah, but wha am jusie chile what take its place ? Cupe am sah'rin' lu de Susie gear! case he swar' t' watch obah de new chile. Dgawge, yo' kin smell tings what Cupe caint smell, but yo' caint see all de tings dat de nigger kin see. Ef yo' could an' 'ud look to'ard de ole well yo' 'ud see a man stan' — a man, Dgawge — de ole ma'se dat hab walked an' walked an' caint mt no res'. He play keards when de chile wah bohn an' swar' at de sweet missus once too many times, an' fo' dat debbilmcnt he hab t' walk de briar patch now. Cussed be de man who bring trouble t' a young muddah. Dah a n't no peace on earf, dah ain't no place in Heaben, do debbil hab no use fo' sech a sperrit. Yo' caint see him, Dgawge. Ef yo' could see what Cupe see, yo' 'ud sti -k yoah tail 'twee.i yoah legs an' run home t' Dinah. Coma on, Dgawge, dah ain't no moah time fo' hant seein', we hab work t' do t'-night." George and his master started, and soon the cry of the old hound floated in the air, and at once a whistle loud and shrill broke from the lips of Cupe. " Come heah, Dgawge ! Come back, Dgawge Wash'n't'n ! " Obedient to the command, the dog came to his side. " Yo' mus' n't act up any fool tricks t'-night, I tole yo- • -- et Dgawge," and the old man boxed the ears of his friend. " Now walk b'hin' till I tole yo' t' hunt." The negro strode forward, the dog, with hanging head, following at his heels until the lights of Stringtown 163 ! De rabbet am all right when we hunt rabbet, but am not fo' yo' dis yocasion. No moah rabbet. 11 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A sX"?^ .^ .^> n^^ <^ ^ I 1 Stringtown on the Pike came into view. Stopping then, the oW man crouched 'n the grass and again spoke: « Dgawge, dah am no coon, no possum, no rabbet t'-night. De time am come hfe am heah " Feeling of the dog's nose, the negro chuckled and then taking the little shoes out of his pocket he held them before the eyes of the dog and touched them once more to his nose. « Hunt fo' Susie Dgawge! hunt fo' Susie! slow," as the dog started off "slow, Dgawge; de night am long." The dog disappeared in the darkness, and Cupe, turn- ing h.s steps so as to inscribe a circle about the Strin.- town lights, wended his way slowly over the uneven land. From tmie to time he stopped to cheer the sagacious hound, which could be heard pressing through the bushes and occasionally, when on a ridge, could be seen pictured against the sky. Old Cupe, accustomed to nocturnal exploits with the dumb brute, knew exactly what he was doing as he circled about, and needed nothing more than the occasional sounds, that to an inexperienced ear would have conveyed no meaning, could they have been heard, to tell that fhe faithful animal was scouring every foot of territory in the vicinity. At last the steps of the ne- gro led to a grapevine thicket in a ravine, and soon from Its depths a loud howl came, a howl that to other persons than Cupe would have sounded exactly like the cry that led to the punishment of the dog at the time his ears were boxed for trailing a rabbit. The cry had hardly subsided before Cupe gave a whistle, and soon the dog came to his side. « Dgawge de^ 'possum am sweet t' de taste when the sweet'-t^iah an de frost am heah, but not t'-night. Yo' hab bettah wo|k t' do dan tree de 'possum, Dgawge," and again the patient creature's ears were boxed. « Now min' yoah 164 The Haunted Hollow nose, Dgawge," and Cupe touched it again with the little shoe. " Hunt fo' Susie, Dgawgc, hunt fo' Susie ! " The ground was slowly covered, fields of corn, open pasture, waste briar patches and woodlands. The Stringtown pike was crossed below the village, and on the return circuit crossed again above it, near the home of Mr. Nordman.thc old Kentucky gentleman; the Mt. Carmel pike was also crossed and the heavy beechwood at the junction was passed, and yet no evidence of the movements of the dog and master could be heard other than the sound made by an oc- casional broken stick or a rustle of the bushes. Then, at last, the discouraged negro realised that he had com- pleted the circuit of the village, for he stood near the spot where the circle began. The old man called his dog, and when he approached spoke to him as only a deeply earnest negro of the olden time could speak to a dumb brute. "De sign wah bad, fo' et wah de Icf toe, but did n't Cupe go back an' staht ag'in ? De ebil ob de sign wah chahmed away, suah. De fault am not wid de nigger, but wid de dawg. Yo' am not workin', Dgawge, yo' hab been foolin' yoah time away." The harangue ended with a threat and the information that the village must again be tramped about, and that the next circle must be larger. Again they started around the village, but before doing so receded from the pre- vious circle, so that this circuit would be much greater than the other. Patiently they passed over the land as they had done before, until the Stringtown pike below the village was reached. At this point, just as the negro prepared to climb the rail fence, he stopped and then sank upon the ground. " Stan' still, Dgawge," he slowly muttered; "dah am dangah in de ole pike; star.* still." 165 Stringtown on the Pike Peering through the rails, the kneeling negro saw, firot, two silent horsemen approach; following which came a troop of about a hundred men, riding two abreast. When opposite the negro the troop halted, and then from beneath an adjacent tree a slight figure stepped to the side of the leader of the band, spoke a few words and disappeared toward the village. The troop resumed Its way, and at last, about as far behind the cavalrymen as the advance guard had preceded them, came the rear- guard of two horsemen. The tramp of the horses' feet, the occasional rattling of a sabre against a wooden stirrup, the smothered cough of an afflicted rider, and the cavalcade that had been pictured against the starry skies disappeared in the gloom. "Dah am sorrah com'n' t' someone t'-nighr; de cav Iry doan trabel at midnight fo' fun. B.-fo' dis raid am obah some rebel boy Ml be to'n fro^ de muddah what he come home f see. Ef I kn 1 who dem Wue coats wah ahftah I Damn dat young cu.s, dah am mischief in de air, but dah am uddah wo'k fo' Cupe t^-night. Dah am trouble fo' uddahs as wel! es de rebel shadows of the beechwood were traversed and the second circuit of the village nearly completed when a c y from the dog broke upon the air, a cry that brought old Cupe to a stop so sudden that ehe foot was arrested m the air, slowly lowered, and then the negro fell upon his knees. No whistle broke from his lips this time, no scolding of George Washington, but in its stead the murmured words : " De La.vd be praised I stan' still, Dgawge Wash'n't'n. De track ob de chile am foun'. Meady, Dgawge, stan' steady, Dgavvg. Wash'n't'n." i66 The Haunted Hollow Rising, he advanced to the spot from which the cry had come, and kneeling again beside the dog the thank- ful negro burst into tears and threw his arms about the dumb brute's neck. As he knelt thus the full moon slowly arose, for the night had half wasted away, and yet not until it threw a broad glare did patient Cupe give the command to move onward. Then he said : " Slow, Dgawge. Go t' Susie, Dgawge. S^^eady, ole man," and the dog leaped into the darkness. The slow, creeping motion that had characterised the movements of Cupe during the night now changed to a trot; the steps were long, and he rapidly covered the ground. A howl came regulaily from the throat of his unseen leader, a howl that to Cupe's practised ear was sufficient to keep him fast in the trail. He used his eyes to avoid obstructions, but relied solely on his ear to keep track of the dog. The moon rose high into the heavens ; woodland, meadow, and thicket were trodden with no change in the cry of the dog, no sound from the lips of hie master. The child had wandered in zig- zag lines,, had struggled through briars and bushes, over hills and through valleys — if, indeed, the dog were trailing the chil'. At last even Cupe grew doubtful, and whistled, which signal was understood as a com- mand to stop. On reaching the brute, who in obedi- ence rested in his tracks, the negro spoke as follows : « Am yo' lyin', Dgawge, am yo' lyin' or tellin' de truff ? Ef de chile hab been wha' yo' hab trabeled, de yinnccent hab walked her legs off. Am yo' lyin', Dgawge ? " Stopping in the middle of the sentence, the speaker reached out his hand and picked from a briar a small piece of cloth, which he held before his eyes. The light of the moon fell full upon the fragment, and then Cupe completed the broken sentence — "An' heah 167 n i t i ;:iiii Stringtown on the Pike am de ansah^yo' am tellin' de truff. Go t' Susie iJgawge, go t' Susie." ' Back and forth, in and out, the man followed the cry of h.s dog that night, ever intent on the object of his Zl' ^^^PVJg ^^^»','"°'"^"^ to hear the bay announcing that the ch.ld had been found at last. But there came no change of note ; the monotonous howl that first struck the ear was maintained, until at last a great loop had been made, and the step of the master, following the cry of the dog, turned toward a spot well known to the superstitious negro. Nearer and yet nearer they drew to the pomt that disturbed the mind of the slave, until at last he could no Jonger control his fear, but whistled to his companion, and together they came to a stand on the top of a grassy ridge. « Yo' bettah go slow, Dgawge. Dah am dangah in de air ef yo go into de hainted hollah widout de cha'm God bress de rabbet what cross de pafF an' send us back fo de Cham. Hole still, Dgawge ;» and taking from his pocket a rabbit-foot attached to a string, the negro hung it around the neck of his dumb friend. He drew another rabbit-foot charm from the same pocket and threw It around his own neck. "Go slow, Dgawge de debbil am in Bloody Hollah. God help de chile ef' He debbil fin' her dah." The rabbit-foot charm even seemed not altogether to remove the distrust of the old man, who glanced uneasily about as he moved slowly into the valley. He mumbled to himself, possibly re- citing a word charm, but still he kept bravely after the yelping hound. At this point, when the dog had reached the base of the hill, he gave a yelp so difl^erent from the monotonous cry that had preceded it that even an inexperienced per- son would have noticed the change of tone. It was a 168 Su sie. The Haunted Hollow single, sharp yelp, followed by a loud, long cry that made the valley echo. The negro rushed forward, careless alike of ghost or goblin ; and there, reclining on the grass, her head pillowed on a hillock that the slave knew only too well, was the object of the search. The dog stretched himself upon the earth, licking the hand of his young mistress, and the moonlight threw its mellow rays over the hollow. The frightened negro wasted no time ; he raised the girl in his arms and rapidly left the valley of evil omens. His faithful dog, his night work at an end, weary and exhausted, with hanging head, followed at his heels. The grey of morning mingled with the moonlight as Cupe opened the door of his cabin, where old Dinah sat waiting for her husband. She gave a cry of joy as she recognised her young mistress; but Cupe, with the proverbial grufFness of such as he, said : " Shet yoah mouf, yo' fool nigger, an' doan yo' wake de honey chile. Give Dgawge Wash'n't'n his supph, fo' he hab done his wo'k." 169 CHAPTER XXVI DESPONDENT STRINGTOWN QBLiyiOUS to the occurrences related in the pre- arTevenr' "^ chapter Stringtown slept. Extraordin- ary events were required in ,864, to waken her people. The tramp of cavalry had become a familiar sound A nocturnal raid had ceased to be novel. Long trains ot army wagons, th. curses of mule-drivers, the crack of black-snake wh.ps, the sound of blows belabouring the backs of the patient brutes, were constant day and nighl a^ong the dusty pike. The beating of drum's, and fhe mus.c of bands, the smging of enthusiastic men in bright new uniforms, the mirth that always accompanied The recruu marchmg South to "glory," sounded in the ear of our people so often as to excite no further comment. 1 he tramp of veterans when transfer of commands theTck of^rT'' ';i ^""^ '''' -^^' -" -'^ -"o- contrast to h k' ^ °' "'7'^^"' ^'"^ing was in marked contras to the behaviour of the new-made soldier, did not disturb us. One looked forward to waving Cs va .ant cavalry charges, and pictured battle scfnes t which, amid cheers of comrades, the waving banner was proudly carried on to the rampans of thelnemy The burned dwellings, weeping mothers, children huddled 'nto groups, lands devastated, homes destroyed, distress these r'"- n "' "''^"'"^ ^° '''^ in/ocem and wherblooTr 7;"'7. ^ ^''"''"^ of battle charges Where blood flowed from friend and foe, no pleasure in 170 Despondent Stringtown reminiscences even of success where fire, smoke and death once prevailed. The places vacated by lost mess- mates, and the shrinking forms of suffering children and bereaved mothers, taught a sorrowful lesson to him who had taken part in war. We of Stringtown slept during the passing of the squad of cavalry which Cupe saw tramping up the pike, and we also slept while the same raiding troop returned from a saddened household with a single pris- oner, the rebel son of Mr. Nordman. And if String- town's people knew nothing of this tramping of a hundred horses, how could they have been aware of the stealthy footsteps of the old slave who that night had twice encircled their outskirts ? Why should they awaken, when from a distance the old hound raised his voice beside the nerro who searched for the lost footsteps of the wandering child ? But when morning came, with unabated energy the search was resumed. Aid was solicited fmm the country about, dogs were employed, but eii ..' the trail had cooled or the strange dogs were not gifted as was George Washington, for they found no trace of the wanderer's track. A party of seekers strag- gled to the cabin of Cupe, who sat as usual beside the cabin door, his old dog asleep at his side. " Yo' doan p'tend t' say dat yo' hain't foun' de chile yit ? " ** No signs of her. Lend us George ; perhaps he can strike the trail." " Yo' am welcome t' de dawg, but he am no 'count. He am like his ma'se. He doan trail de 'possum an' de coon now, he hain't got sense nulF in his ole head fo' huntin'. Go wid de gem'n, Dgawge ; git up, yo' lazy houn', an' go wid de gem'n ! " 171 ill! . i ! ft Stringtown on the Pike The visitors whistled to the dog, which listlessly and with cin,op.ng head followed them from the door. ^ Ya, ya said Cupe, when the men had disappeared an eah oh .T . ! " ""^^^ " ^^" '""'^ »"' Larl wh.^ " """^ •''''"''" ^°^^ " '' '-l^ ^o' de gear! wha yo' am gwine." h.s former localion. Cupe still rested beside the door- D.nah^sa. ,n the back doorway, „„ other person was lo Stringtown's search continued until, after several day, had passed, hope departed from every breast. The chid (raced to any authentic source, and yet were passed fmm mouth to mouth, to the effect that sLie h l^M^ •he p,ke and was found by a band of Northern Se« -arching south, who carried the homeless waif awa„ Th,, n,„ g„„ i„,„ ^ ^^^ ^way of the Strmgtown taverns and told of a child who, pe"! .hf cLtrS^™"" '"•"'' *- "■»- '" "•' A™/«f M 1 172 t IV; CHAPTER XXVIl "red-head" "'"T^OOK yoah las' look at de ole plantation, Dinah, A res' yoah eyes fo' de las' time on de Ian' wha' yo' wha* bohn. De fragrance ob de cohn when et am in silk, de bread what yo* make wid de frosted 'simmon an' de cracklin', de sweet-'tatah an* 'possum am no moah fo' yo*. De Ian' ob yo' fahdah am no moah yoah home ; trial an' sorrah am t' come fo' de two ole niggers in de cole Canerdy country." Dinah, sitting in the doorway, made no reply, and for a long time Cupe sat mute, lost in meditation. " De ansah say dat de grabe hab cubbahed de body ob de missus an' de body ob de ma'se, an' dat de blos'm chile am dead an' buried an' dat Cupe hab done de long- made promise out. Vi say dat when de dead am satis- fied de backwa'd wurk ob man am done." Dinah looked into the face of her husband and asked : "Am yo' suah de dead am satisfied ? " " Suah. Dinah, I is suah. De switch ob de weepin' willah tree droop down an' hang long obah de spot wha* Cupe stick de twig obah sweet missus' grabe ; de cedah bough cubbahs de grabe ob de chile she call her blos'm. Dah am no yallah clay t' be seen, but dah am trouble yit. Dah am trouble com'n*. " When Cupe go las' night t* wha* de ole house wah, he feel de touch ob de sperrit ob de dead. He look at de spot wha* de bed ob de missus Stan' de ni^ht de blos'm wah bohn, an' he speak t' de missus like es ef she 173 -il U!l i I : Stringtown on the Pike wah by his side, ;.n' den he lis'n iW dc ar.sah Dah wa „ t no sound ob voice, but de ansah come out ob de air an' out ob de moonlight." ^ "What yo' see t' pint t* new trouble? " When I sahch in de bed ob de sajrc dah w^h „, young .gc p.„„,,, ,.„,., ,,.^ .,„ ^ir,r : :;; high, tt wah „,„ a week sense Cupe scratch Ja, M obah, an „„w do seed an, up. Dah an, .rouble .„• de .rdetreSstr^.-r"^""'-*^"--^"'"^: Low and husky was the reply. .. He an, walkin' yit but dat doan consahn „s niggers. He swar" at de u"-' bohn babe he cuss de new-made muddah, an" he ]uZ walk fo' his own sins." "An' Susie.'" ebah ,' She am s.tt.n' ,n de cabin in de mahn-n an" in knr She" '"'"•"I-''" - i" de ansah ob de man wha. dribe wah, < East Ka^! uck mount'ns.' An' when de quistio^ wah ax^, eSV!^" ^"'"^ ' • '■' ^"-'^ -".'P-y County,' Still there was no answer. -Why yo' stop in Kaintuck, yo' red-head cuss? 176 ti "Red-Head" I [ Why yo' not go on t' Posey County, Engiany, wid de tribe what bring yo' ? " "Old Nordman is my uncle; I came to live with him," said the boy surlily. "An' yo' brung shame on yoah uncle fo' habin' sech kin. Yo' come from East Kaintuck t' lib wid yoah Uncle Nordman, but de man who dribe dat wagon doan go on ; he stop in de ci( n' jine in de blue coat army. De moonlight am not bright, but Cupe am a nigger —he kin see in de night. Dat feller wah de man who cap'ned de cavalry on de Stringtown pike dc uddah night, when yo' slip from undah de tree an' whispah in his eah. He wah de man." "I'll get even with yo', yo' black nigger, fer I've seen the girl, an' I'll tell where she es." " Yo' will ? " " Yes, an' I'll get the fi^ty dollars too. Mr. Wagner hes offered fifty dollars fo' news of her." " Pint yoah nose fo' home an' walk slow, yo' debbilish imp ; ef yo' run, de teef ob de dawg '11 make yo' wish yo' had gone on wid de East Kaintuck litter an' crost de ribbah, wha' de likes ob yo' b'long." The boy did not move nor say a word. "Tu'n yoah face to'ard de pike like I tole yo' ! Move, yo' sorrel top, er I '11 pull dis eah out by de root." The boy sullenly obeyed, but it was evident that Cupe intended to accompany him. With the old dog in front and the negro close behind, they started for the village. Before reaching it, however, at the command of Cupe, the course was changed, and passing through the fields along the village outskirts the group reached the pike near the house of Mr. Nordman, who, as usual on sum- mer afternoons, was sitting on the front porch of his home. M 177 Stringtown on the Pike On entering the yard Cupe took off his hat, and bowed low to the owner of the house. After the usual salutations had been exchanged, he said: « Dah am sadness obah yoah face, Ma'se Nordman, an' I 'spec* dah am sorrah obah de heaht ob de missus t'-day." " Yes, Cupe, we are in trouble." "An' well yo' may sorrah, fo' dah am trouble in de house an' dah am trouble out ob de house. Yo' will scuse de nigger fo' sayin' et?" "Say on." " Yo' am sah'rin' fo' de chile, de rebel boy, what come t' see his ihuddah ? " "Yes." " How come de Yankee sojers t' fin' out he wah home r .i,!?K^°"'^ ^"°'^'' ^""'^ ^"P^- I ^'d "°t think that I had an enemy in the world capable of stooping to such an act." ° At this juncture the Red-Head Boy attempted to walk away. Cupe eyed him as he turned toward the corner ot the house and mildly observed : "Chile yo' need n't go ; bettah yo' stay an' heah de conbersashun out, case Cupe hab sump'n' t' show vo* in de pike when he go back." The boy took the seem- ingly artless words as a command ; he returned reluctantly and sat down on the edge of the porch. home^?^"^*''"^'°'^" ^°'^' ^°'' ''"°'^ ^^ '^^^^ ^°y ^^^ "Yes ; many of them called to see him, but no man in btringtown would inform on him." " His bruddah, Ma'se Jim, de Yankee cap'n, had be'n home too." " Yes ; they met by appointment." " Yo' hain't no cause t' spishun none ob de niggers ? " .' 178 \ 1 "Red-Head" "No, Cupid; not one but would have made any sacrifice for that boy. His old auntie is crying now in the cabin." " Yo' hain't no cause t' spishun no one on de place an no cause t' spishun no one in de town ? Mon- strous strange ! I 'spec' de Yankees jes happen t' come in de night an' dey jes happen t' stop befo' yoah house. I'ow ful cu'yus. Dey station dere men at de back an' at de front ob de house —jes happen t' do it; dey make a ring ob muskets in de moonlight all 'roun' de mansion. Uen dat loud knock come on de doah, de sleepin' chile wah pulled out ob bed, de han'cufFs slip obah his wrists, an he wah put on de back ob one ho'se what jes happen t hab an empty saddle." "Yes, so it seems," answered Nordman meditatively. " De sojers come wid only one empty saddle ? " No response. " Dey go no fa'dah up de pike, but tu'n back ag'in ? " No reply. ° " De niggers wah cryin', de muddah wah cryin', de ole man wah sw'arin' in hims heaht an' keepin' up a monstrous t'inkin', he am t'inkin' an' sw'arin' yit. But yoah t'mkin' doan do no good, de feller what tole on de boy am not foun'." « No." " Do yo' know who cap'ned de blue coats ? " " He did not come into the house. However, he only did his duty unless — " the old man paused. Suddenly changing the subject, the negro said • « Yo' mus' 'scuse de pertness ob de quistions, but yo' know dat Cupe hab b'en in trouble too;" he held up his branded hand and displayed the livid mark in its palm, "an dis am de fust chance he hab had t' git de inward- ness ob dis painful ) ocasion. Cupe did n't come t' see 179 \ i Stringtown on the Pike yo* t' be 'quisitive, he come t' ax ef yo' 'ud do him de kindness yo' hab done so ofFen ? " A smile came over the face of the old Kentucky gentleman, and he thumped with his cane on the floor of the porch. A negro lad, dressed in a single garment that was sleeveless, beltless, legless, (a Lindsey shift), in obedience to the call soon stood before him. " Pig, take Cupe's bottle." Cupe took the empty flask from his pocket and handed it to the lad. « Fill it out of t^ie second barrel in the far cellar." Cupe made his best courtesy and the boy disappeared, to return shortly, holding the bottle filled with the amber liquid. "T'ank yo', Ma'se Nordman, yo' liben de sperrit an' gladden de heaht ob de nigger. Ef yo' wan' Cupe t' sahve yo', a word am all yo' need say." He turned to go, then suddenly resumed the thread of his former conversation. "Ef yo' fin' dat de feller what cap'ned de sojers know de chile wah home an' set de trap t' cotch him ? " " If I could find the scoundrel I 'd shoot him on sight." " An' ef yo' fin' de feller what tole de sojers on de honey ? " « I '11 shoot him like a dog." The old darkey chuckled, courtesied low and turned agam to depart. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought he said : " May de chile sittin' at yoah feet, de boy, yo' am so kind t' come t' de pike wid Cupe ? Dah am a cu'yus track in de dust dat might yinterest de boy." « Go," said Mr. Nordman. Passing together to the edge of the pike, as if they were th** be«*" "f f'-'^f^nt^'- P---a »^t« j » - - -- u._ i.c„ ^i i..cnGa, <^upe leaned over and pointed l8o "Red- Head** towaru the smooth furrows in the dust; but this was merely a blind, for no track was to be seen. ^ " An' yo' come from East Kaintuck wid yoah moun- t'n manners," he whispered. « Yo' eat yoah own kin- fo'ks dah, yo' 'possum, an' yo' b'gin yoah debbilment heah by bitin* de han' ob de man what feed yo', an' who hain't no spishun ob de sin in yoah heaht. De wicked deed am done an' caint be undone, er Cupe 'ud squeeze yoah neck like es de pahson did de colonel." Pointing into the dust, the negro continued : " Yo' saw Susie in de cabin ? " The boy did not reply. " Ansah de quistion ; yo' saw Susie in de cabin ? " "Yes." "Ef yo' say one word t' man er chile 'bout de gearl, Cupe '11 tole Ma'se Nordman 'bout what he saw when yo' meet de sojers on de Stringtown pike de night de raid wah made. Ef yo' whispah de fac' to any man Cupe 'II choke yoah life out fust, an' tell Ma'se Nord- man 'bout who cap'ned de raiders second. So suah es God made Adam, yo' debbil from East Kaintuck, ef ha'm comet' de Susie chile, yoah red head '11 stop hatchin' debbilment in de Ian' wha' yo' hab no bis'ncss t' be. Min' yoah mouf now, keep yoah han' off dat fifty dol- lahs and sabe yoah neck." Straightening up, Cupe courtesied once more to the gentleman on the distant porch, and, together with his dog, passed from sight. I8i CHAPTER XXVIII SPIRITS ID ETURNING to the cabin, the negro resumed his i^ usual position in the chair beside the door, first, however, handing Dinah the bottle, which, in conse- quence of having been sampled on his return trip, was not now entirely filled. But before it reached her hand the wary old man put his finger on the vial, close to the upper surface of ihe liquid, and remarked : " De lickah am heah, yo' kin see de top mark ; doan yo' let none ob et sweat fru de glass while Cupe am gone." Long he sat l.i meditation, chewing wisps of tobacco which from time to time he stripped from the ever- present hand of the leaf above his head. Finally he arose, took a spade, and strode into the garden, back to the graveyard. Digging next to the foot-stone that marked the resting-place of his mistress of other years he unearthed a large closed ston^ jar. Removing the cover, he took out an oblong tin box, again covesed the jar, returned the soil and carefully sodded the disturbed earth's surface. Taking the box in his arms, he carried it to the stable, and there thrust it into an empty meal sack, which he then threw over his shoulder. Return- ing to the house, he spoke to Dinah : « Yo' know de papah what de muddah ob Susie wrote an' lebe in yoah charge? " "Yes." " She say t' yo' dat ef de painfulness ob her life ebah 182 Spirits had t' be known, dat de papahs wah t' be used fo' de sake ob de chile." " Dat am what she say." " Brung me de papahs, Dinah ; dat time am come." Dinah hesitated. « Doan yo' heah ? Am yo' gittin' deaf er losin* yoah senses? Yo* bettah be keerful, yo' hain't got much sense t' lose." Dinah dived her hand into the corner of the cupboard and produced a package neatly wrapped in newspaper, which she handed to Cupe, who placed it in the sack, which he threw across his shoulder and started for Stringtown. The old dog with nose against the ground trotting lazily at his heels. Dinah in the doorway watched the retreating figure. Mumbling to herself, and accompanying her voice with an occasional shake of the head, she stood long after the form disappeared ; then returning into the cabin, she glanced at the little bed where Susie, tired of play, had carelessly thrown herself and fallen asleep. She hesitated a moment and then went straight to the mantel-piece, taking therefrom the bottle Cupe had brought from Mr. Nordman's. Carefully tying a thread around the bottle exactly on the top line of the liquid, she uncorked the vial, raised it to her lipi, ^t-A drank a deep draught, half emptying it ; then, smacking her lips, she stepped to the water bucket and poured water into the bottle until the liquid's sur- face struck the thread again, which latter she then re- moved. Finally she replaced the bottle on the shelf. " Yo' am a sly old fox, Cupe Hardman, yo' am a sly cle coon, but Dinah — ." Whatever she might have intended saying as a continuation of her soliloquy was lost, for, glancing at the little bed, she again caught sight of the sleeping face of Susie. 183 li Stringtown on the Pike Dropping on her knees, the old negress clapped her lips upon the delicate hand that lay upon the white coverlet, murmuring : " De win' blow cole an' de snow am deep in de Canerdy country ; de nigger lub de Kaintuck sunshine, de sweet-'tatah an' de 'possum ; de grabe ob de ole fo'ks an' de chillun am bery deah t' de brack fo'ks' heaht, an' de cabin an' de fren's what lib in ole Kaintuck am presh'us. But when Cupe say t' Dinah, fo' de good ob de chile, de deed mus' be done, Dinah '11 let de fiah go out on de cabin haitf, an '11 close de cabin doah; she'll took a las' look at de ole home, an' wid Cupe an' de honey chile '11 slip away in de night." The head of the negress fell upon the coverlet, her eyes sought the bottle on the mantelpiece. For a long time she rested in this position, then attempted to rise but irresistible languor held her in place. She reached up her hand, pointed to the vial, and wanderingly spoke : " Yo' wah sweet t' de taste, yo' honey bottle, but yo' camt tole Cupe nuffin, fo' de line am on de mark." Her eyes closed dreamily and she mumbled: « De Canerdy Lan' am cole an' de grabes ob de missus an' de chillun in Kaintuck am deah, but fo' de good ob de Susie chile an' de lub ob ole Cupe, Dinah '11 close de cabin doah ferebah." 184 CHAPTER XXIX S ^ cupe's story of the past '' I DRUDGING through the gathering dusk of the -■• evening, Cupe, with the sack on his back and the dog at his heels, reached the outskirts of Stringtown. He climbed the fence about one of the back lots, near one of the frame houses, and struck an alley-way, that led to the pike. Walking then along the sidewalk, he reached the door of Mr. Wagner. Once before, bearing the clothing of Susie, he had stood before that door, and having delivered his bundle had retreated with heavy heart. Now again with another bundle he stood on the same spot, hat in hand, his white head conspicuous in the gloom. Mr. Wagner opened the door, and recognising Cupe, invited him in. " You may drop your sack by the side of the door j U will be perfectly safe." " Ef et am de same t' yo', Ma'se Wagnah, I '11 sot et inside de room." " Certainly, do as you choose." Cupe not only "sot et inside de room," but he deposited it at his very feet, standing bareheaded beside the odd-looking package. Mr. Wagner made no attempt to induce the visitor to be seated, knowing that Cupe's negro training would not allow him to sit in the parlour of a white man. Looking about the roo ::upe spied u^- n the wall a trinket that once belonged to Susie. Beginning the con- 185 Stringtown on the Pike versation after the manner of the negro, he addressed the trinket instead of Mr. Wagner. " An' wha' es de Susie gearl what carry yo' In her han' ? Am yo' lonesome in de silence, do yo' hs'n fo' de tongue ob de pert chile dat am gone ? " Mr. Wagner could but feel a pang of remorse. He knew that Cupe was speaking to him, though addressing the inanimate trinket. Turning from that Cupe directly asked: "An* hab yo' hea'd any news from de honey gearl ? " " None, excepting the statement of the furloughed sol- dier, who saw a child in camp before Murfreesboro." " An' did yo' send a man t' see ef et wah Susie ? " "Yes; but he could find no trace of her. The Army of the Cumberland is constantly changing its location, and there has been heavy fighting. Cupe, God knows that I thought I was doing my duty to the child. Would that she were in her old home with you again ! " "Yoah yintention wah good, Ma'se Wagnah, an' Cupe doan bear no blame t* yo'. De trouble wah dat yo' tried t' cross Prov'dence an t' bre'k de workin' ob de sign. Cupe hab t' say es how he am t' blame fo' de crime, an' not yo'." " You, Cupid ! Why, you begged for possession of your charge. Your pleadings brought tears to my eyes, your voice has never left my ears. Had I listened to you, Susie would have been happy in your cabin now." " Et wah de Co'ht an* not yo', Ma'se Wagnah. Yo' did de biddin' ob de law, but de law am not es strong es de sign, fo' de sign am de biddin' ob God. Et wah Cupe who es t' blame, doan I tole yo', fo' he lose his head when de day ob trouble hove in sight." " How were you to blame ? " I86 an' Cupe*s Story of the Past " Ef Cupe had had his wits, he "ud hab brought de sack yo* see on de flo'. De fool nigger lose his sense." Mr. Wagner looked inquiringly toward the sack. " Ef yo' '11 lis'n t' Cupe he '11 tole yo' what he should hab said de day yo' come fo' Susie." " Go on." Standing on the floor, the old man began his story. He forgot himself, he lost sight of his hearer, his tongue, keeping time with his vivid memory, became eloquent, as the words fell from his lips. " De day what perish long ago wah gone. Et went into de da'kness when ole Ma'se Hardman wah foun' dead in Bloody Hollah. De niggers shet demselbs in de cabin, skeahed nigh t* defF. De witches wah plattin' de ho'ses' tail in de bahn, de owi wah sittin' in de top ob de hick'ry tree lookin' mighty wise, but sayin' not a word. De sign wah in de air, an' Cupe go out in de night an' look in de watah ob de spring an' read de word. Et say dat young ma'se 'ud die on de New Yeah night, es yo* know he did die, an' dat Susie chile 'ud come es she did come, an' et say moah dan dat ; but yo' am consarned only wid what et say 'bout de chile. An' den de long yeahs pass, an' one mahn'n Cupe say: * Ma'se, t'-morrah mahn'n 'bout day broke Bloody Hollah '11 mix etself ag'in in yoah affairs.' " » Damn Bloody Hollah ! ' say de ma'se. « * A chile '11 be foun' by de lone grabe.' " * Shet up yoah nigger signs ! ' say de ma'se. " » An' de chile '11 come an' stay in dis cabin.' " * Close yoah lips, I tole yo' ! ' an', sayin' dat, ma'se walk oflT. " But when de grey ob de mahn'n come, Cupe wah stan'n' by de doah ob de cabin, an' n^ ^'se he op'n de doah an' walk out, es Cupe 'spectec^ him t' do. He 187 Stringtown on the Pike look kindah queer when he see Cupc stanV dah, an* den he say: » Cupc, yo' kin come wid me; I 'm gwine t show yo' dat nigger signs am fool signs.' But Cupc he know dat de omen wah wo'kin' on de ma'sc, an' hj keep h.s mouf shet. an' follud de ma'se, who go straight fo Bloody Hollah. An' when ma'se an' Cupc stan' on dch.Il an look fru de fog, sump'n' wah to be seed in de hollah, sump'n' dat in de grey ob mahn'n wah mon- strous queer lookin'. Et wah on de Bloody Hollah grabe. An' ma'se he stop a minit kindah s'prised like an' Cupe raise his han' an' pint down into de Hollah obah de shouldah ob de ma'se, an' say : " * De signs am come'n true.' " * Et am a cow,' say ma'se, an' tuhn back. " * Et am not a cow, et am de chile pinted t' by de sign,' say Cupe. An' jes den de crittah rise up an' stan' on de grabe. Et wah tall an' slim an' red an' white, but de fog wah t'lck, an' only de colour an' de size could be seed. Et wah an awful sight, a skeeiy ting. "*Et am not a chile,' say ma'se, an' he kindah shiver. " * An' suah et am not •, cow. Ef de sifrn , .- v.one et am monstrous queer,' say Cupe. " An' so ma'se stan' skeered like, an' Cupe wah kindah sol um case de sign wah wrong. De crittah wah not a Chile an not a cow an' not like any uddah crittah. Jes d.n de breeze raise de fog, an' et show a lone woman • vi: s-n:p'n' in her arms. De woman wah in a ■■^>^ w'ss, an d- bundle she hole wah red es blood. ^ u Mu se he lo V. kindah cu'yus like at Cupe, an' den he swo' a cuss word, an' down into de Hollah he go, Cupe by his side. Befo' God, Ma'se Wagnah, et wah a lone woman, an' in her arms she hole Susie wrapped in a red shawl. l88 Cupe's Story of the Past "An' ma'se he sa/ kindah cross-like: *Wha' yo* come from?' An' de woman pinted to'a.J de Norf. An' ma'se, he ax : ' Wha' yo' gwine t' ? ' An' she look down at de grabe. Ma'se, he stop a minit an' den say : » Yo' am not alone, uddah people am gwin ■; 'long on de same road, an' de soonah some ob dem gets t' de end de bettah fo' de worl',' say ma'se. " Den ma'se look at de chile, an' kindah see sump'n' in ets eye t' make him t'ink a minit es Cupe 'sp. ted him t' do when he seed dem eyes ag'in. He tuhn on de woman sudden like an' say : * What fo' yo' brung dat chile heah ? Wha' yo' git dat chile ? ' " An' de woman say : ' Yo' know de look ob de eye ob de chile ? Wha' else kin de chile go ? ' "*To de debbil, wha' ets fahdah gwine, de coward.' " An' then ma'se look ag'in at de chile, an' say : * De eyes ob de chile go oack t' de day ets fahdah wah young. I see de sweet boy a-sittin' by my side ag'in. De dim- ple' cheek, de white skin. De eye ob de chile befo' me call back de day ob long ago.' Den he tuhn on de woman savage-like: 'Woman, I swo' once by all de gods an' debbils dat ef ebah de fahdah ob dat chile, er kin ob de fahdah, sot foot on de ole farm, ets life 'udn't be wufF de coppahs on a dead nigger's eyes. An' now yo' brung de ole times back, de times when de ' — den he bre'k off — 'damn de ole times ! ' he say. " De woman look down at de grabe an' cry. De chile look up into ma'se's face an' laugh, an' hole out ets little arms, an* den Cupe spoke, fo* he see wicked- ness risin' in ma'se's eye. " ' Ma'se, yo' swo' ef ebah de fahdah ob dat chile, er kin ob de fahdah, sot foot on de ole place yo'ud do mu'd'h.' "' Yes,' say ma'se ; - an' one ob de varmints am heah 189 Ii5 -'-' I ) '4k \Jy Stringtown on the Pike now, an' I 'tend t' choke de life out ob de brat.' He reach out his han', es ef t' grab de chile, an' den Cupe step betwixt de two. * Hole yoah han* ! ' Cupe say, an' strike et down. * De fahdah am not heah an' de chile am not starCrC on de groun\ Yo' hab mu'd'h in yoah heaht, an' hab no right t' act out de oafF les'n de chile am stan'n' on de earf.' " Ma'se stop a minit, an' den he say : ' Come t' de cabin ! ' "An' de woman come. Dah wa'n't nuffin moah said, she jes come an' stay. De woman sleep wid de chile in de lof, an' Dinah sleep on de flo' ob de loP, an' Cupe sleep on de flo' ob de cabin room beside de bed ob ma'se. But de sign wah come true ! "Ma'se he keep away from de woman an' nebbah speak t' de chile fo' a long time. But he keep a mon- strous lookin' at ets big, roun' eyes, an' moah dan once Cupe cotch de tear drops steal in' down his rough cheek. But Cupe doan say nuffin fo' feah et 'ud cross de sign. " One day de muddah ob Susie say t' Cupe : * Git me some writin' papah.' An' Cupe when he go t' String- town git a sheet. An' when he han' et t' her, she look at et kindah cu'yus like, an' say : * Et am not nuff. I wan' t' write de story ob de chile.' An' Cupe nex' day git a whole pack ob big-size papah an' a dozen bright pencils. An' de muddah ob Susie take de papah an' write an' write. De days come an' go, an' she write an' write. Ma'se he doan say nuffin an' doan ax no quistions. He had n't any writin' sense. An' at las' de woman wrap de papah up an' write sump'n' on de out- side ob de pack. " Den nex* mahn'n she s;y t' ma'se : * Dah am nusses wanted down in Tennessy.' " An' ma'se he say : * A namb'lance train fo' de Souf 190 IF i an' Cupe's Story of the Past am campin* in de fiel' by de pond ob Mr. Nordman now.' " An* de woman say nuffin fo' a time, an' den she go t* de cupboard an' take from et de red shawl what Susie wah wrapped in de mahn'n she wah found in Bloody Hollah." Cupe paused and turned his eyes to a tiny, well-worn shawl hanging from a peg in the wall, and in a solemn tone remarked, pointing with his finger as he did so : " Dah am de bressed gahment now." Then he continued : " An' den de muddah took de chile in her arms an' cry. Ma'se he kindah feel dat sump'n' wah come'n, an' he say : ' De war am not fo* chillun.* " De woman stop a minit, an* den she say : ' May de chile stay ? ' " * Yes,' say ma'se ; ' but ef de fahdah put toot on de place, dah '11 be a grabe dug ; et '11 be fo* him er me.* " Den she sot Susie in de little hick'ry cheer what Cupe done made fo' her, an' clime t' de lof ' an* come down wid de bundle ob papah an* lay et on de table. " ' What am in de bundle ? ' ax ma'se. " » A load ob sin.* " She take from her pocket a little purse (Cupe held up a silk purse) an* she lay et on de papah an* say : ' Et •am all I hab.' Den she pick Susie up an' kiss an* hug her an* cry obah her, an* Dinah cry an' ma'se an* Cupe kindah feel bery solium' like. ' Doan none ob yo' follah me,' she say. ' De wages of sin am defF,' she muttah t* herselb, an* tuhn from de doah. But ma'se an' Cupe go out too, an' es de doah shet stan' by her side. *■ What 'bout de papah yo' write ? * ma'se ax. "She stop an' look at ma'se an' Cupe, an' den she say : * Ef ebah hahm pint t' Susie yo' kin use de 191 -r- - hi \u it hi in Stringtown on the Pike et 11 gib de chile de hbin' she am 'titled t' er et '11 brung TVJ^ ''°'"' °^ ^ ""^^ ^^° ^oan wan' no shame.' " *■ What am in de papah ? * " * De story ob a life ob sin.' " ' Yes.' « "\YJ'^\r'J''' >'°' '""^^"'^ °^ ^^ ^hiie,' ma'se say ; * dah nebbah wah sin on an unbohn babe, an' no sm hab come t' Susie sense she wah bohn.' " * Et wah case o^> de muddah's sin.' *!.!,T°' u^ ^^''" •' ^^ '""^^^'^ wha^ bear de chile, de muddah what hole de chile t' her bos'm when de cussed man hide hims head, de muddah what face de shame an' face de worl' wid de chile in her arms am pure -by all de gods she am pure ! Et am de man who sin', an' yo' know et, de coward who sneak ofFan' lebe yo' t' bear de chile alone de cur who sit smilin' now. Et am nebbah de muddah wid de chile on her bos'm, but always de man who am de sneakin' dawg, de sinnin' brute, de coward ! ' "Den de muddah ob Susie say : * Ef yo' am right de worl am wrong, fo' de worl' say de chile an' de muddah am de sinners. An' et wah case ob de sin dat I take my chile an' go 'way fo' de good ob de fahdah, who am- sate. "'But,' she go on, 'ef trouble rise up an' yo' wan' Susie t' stay in de cabin, let de story be read. De man who de papah pints to '11 send money.' "'Damn de man an' damn his money !' say ma'se 'Nebbah yo' min' de money; when yo' am back from de war yo'll fin' de chile in de cabin, an' dah'll be a place fo' yo' ; but no place fo' his dirty money.' 192 ■i an' Cupe's Story of the Past "She turn t' go, den she stop ag'in. * Be keerful who reads de story; et am not fo' scandal tongue,' she say An' den she walk 'way. She go alone t' de yamb lance train ! " Cupe stopped. " And did you hear nothing from her afterward ? " Cupe took from his pocket-book the clipping of a newspaper, which Mr. Wagner read aloud : A NURSE KILLED A shell from a rebel battery near Dallas, Georgia, Tuesday morning struck and instantly killed a nurse. She came in an ambulance train from Kentucky, but nothing is known of her history. Heedless of her own safety, she moved about the field, succouring the wounded of both armies. Careless of her- self, m the thick of battle, while holding a canteen of water to the mouth of a dying soldier, her life was suddenly destroyed Nothmg that could give a clue to her identity was found among her meagre effects, nothing but an addressed, stamped envelope m which was a request that in case of her death a simple state- ment of the fact be mailed in the same envelope, and that no effort be made to find her friends. Only this and the following request added as a postscript : " Please lay mc out in white." As Mr. Wagner ceased reading, Cupe broke in : dead, but befo' God, de sin wah not hern " "A sad story, Cupid, but it is told too late. The mother is dead, the child is lost." " Ef de chile could be foun', Ma'se Wagnah ? " " Impossible ! " ^ " fo'ksT'' ^°' ^^ ^' ''''^'"' ""^ ^' "^^''^ '' ^' ^'•^^'^ " The child is gone." Cupe leaned over, opened the sack at his feet, took from It the oblong package of manuscript handed him by '^ 193 4 Stringtown on the Pike Dinah and said : « When de candle am lighted t'-morrah cbenm' m de grocery Cupe '11 come t' d! grocery-s^re meetm'. Yo' hab de papah written by de woma^; W ^rat " ''m "' L' ?'''^''' ^' y^ '" ^-d de iLs P raps yo would raddah de chile stay wid de nigger " The negro turned to the door: « De writin' am only fo yo ; et am none ob Stringtown's consahn." The door closed and Mr. Wagner retired to his room. When morning broke, the village clerk sat in his chair; the manuscript before him had been read a second time; his head rested on his hand, the lamp st.ll burned, for Mr. Wagner, in deep reflection, ga"e no thought to the |>assage of time. ♦ p 194 The CHAPTER XXX CUPE PURCHASES HIS WIFE /^UPE after leaving Mr. Wagner did not go directly V> home. Instead, with the sack over his shoulder, he sought the dwelling of Judge Elford. Once before he had passed from door to door of these two houses, and this second reception at the home of Judge Elford was nearly a repetition of the first one. The negro was mvited into the sitting-room, and in kindly tones asked to state his business. Glancing about, he threw in a side remark, by way of introduction : « De bot'm ob de cheer yo* wah sittin' in am in trouble ag'in. Ef yo '11 let de nigger took et home, he '11 put m a new bot'm ? " « All right, Cupe," said the judge, knowing well that this was not the business which brought his caller at that hour. "Et am many yeahs sense Cupe lam' t' bot'm cheers. De cohn-shuck twist am hardah dan de hick'ry strip, an' de hick'ry bot'm las' de best." " Le* it be a hickory bottom." "Lawd, de dimes an' qua'tahs what Cupe made bot'min' cheers fo' Stringtown fo'k," the old darkey remarked, and reached again into the sack; taking therefrom the heavy oblong tin box, he stepped defer- entially to the desk of the judge and placed it before him, mserted a tiny key into the lock, turned it, raised the lid and stepped back. I9S 4 Stringtown on the Pike Beneath the cover lay a neatly folded paper, which Judge Elford opened and read at Cupe's request. Then he looked in surprise at the negro and remarked : " Your freedom, Cupe, you are a free man ! These papers were drawn up fifty years ago ; they are properly signed and witnessed." The old man chuckled. « Dah am 'nuddah papah," he said. " Yes," the judge continued, reading again : " This paper is a bill of sale. In consideration of twelve hun- dred dollars, to be paid by Cupid Hardman to the legal heir of your recent master, Dinah is to be freed." Again the negro < chuckled: "An '11 yo' count dc money in de box?" He leaned over, by an effort carefully inverted the box on the desk, and raised it. Within were coins of every size and description. The astonished judge, though rejoicing in his humble friend's triumph, was reluctant to undertake the tedious task suggested by the negro, who himself realised that it was a task. "Dah am 'zac'ly twelve hund'd dollahs. Yo' kin take yoah time t' count et." The wrinkled fingers of the slave playfully stirred the medley of coins. Picking up a silver dollar, Cupe scrutinised it closely, saying : " De mark am on yo' yit -- de mark ob de file. Kin yo' memberlec' de night yo' wah handed to Cupe, de night ob de shiveree ? De bright young missus in de house on de pike han' yo' t* Cupe, an' say : ^Fo' waitin' on de table, Cupe.' God bress her sweet face ! Cupe sees her yit es she smile at de nigger dat wed'n' night, de night she marry Ma'se Nordman. But de face am sah'rin' now — one chile wearin' de Blue, de uddah wearin' de Grey." Unwrapping the tissue paper from a five-dollar gold 196 Cupe purchases his Wife piece, Cupe abruptly addressed the judge : « Did yo' ebah see dis shinin' piece befo'?" Then continued, without waiting for an answer : " An' why should yo' know de coin from ets bruddahs ? Yo' hab seed many like et, suah. But Cupe mahked dis beauty, an' heah am de mahk." He pointed to a tiny cross. " Do yo' min* de day Cupe hole de strap an* let de coffin ob de missus down into de earf ? An' do yo' min* dat es Cupe pass yoah doah dat night yo' came out an' slip de shinin' gol' into his han' ? Dis am dat coin, Ma'se Elford." Cupe turned it slowly between his fingers. " Et am es bright es de day et wah buried, an' de face ob de angel missus in Heabcn am shinin' bright es dat gol'. De grabe caint rub de shine off de gol' yo' gib in her name. But dah ain't no use in sech memberlectins. De money am all honest now, fo' Cupe made et square, but de Lawd knows wha' some ob et hab be'n." The negro paused in his speech, and fingered the gold. The judge was silent. Evidently his thoughts were in the solemn past, which had been recalled by Cupe's artful tongue. By and by he asked : " Is this money for the purpose of buying your wife, Dinah ? " " Et am. Dis nigger hab be'n sab'n' de money fo' de pu'pose. De patch ob t'backah what he raise in de Satuhday afternoon am buhned long, long ago ; de rabbet what he sell t' Stringtown fo'ks am gone, an' pow'ful many ob de fo'ks what eat et am dead ; de cheer bot'ms what Cupe put in hab been wo'n out, but de money dey br'ing am safe. Yo' kin count et at yoah ease, Ma'se Elford ; et anri all dah." He turned to the door. "Take the papers, Cupe, your own and Dinah's freedom papers." The negro hesitated. « Ef et am de same t' yo', Ma'se, de papahs an' de money may stay t'geddah. Mebby dah won't be no use fo' de papahs. 197 7 I- M^ Stringtown on the Pike Cupe doan wan' no disgrace on his head, an' doan 'tend I nab no disgrace. " Explain your meaning." Sn- T" '""''"'" "^^ """y "'"'^ '' Stringtown dat Cupe locked ef dah hain't be'n no good-bye saio, de fo'ks ob d.s heah town'll 'cuse Cupe an' Dinah ob stealin' dem- sdbs an' runn n"way t' Canerdy. Ef sech tings come will yo Stan' m de co'ht an' show dat freedom p!pah ob ob dl co'htT'"' ""'' '^ ''' ''' ^'"^'^ '"^^ '^ »>- « I will." " An' sabe de honah ob de two ole slabes ? " " You may depend upon it." But .f Cupe an- D.nah keep libin' in de cabin, bettah < yoselb; an ef Cupe an' Dinah die in de cabin de Pjahs am f be read by de preachah a. de g.be'ss de! wife "<^! "" ' ^° '"'° ""'" *■'«' ^' •• '■»'' » f-'e " And the money ? " " P^"^o"ey am fo' Susie, ef she ebah am foun'." busie IS gone forever." "Do yo' 'member what Cupe tole yo' de night he Stan' m d.s room an beg fo' de chile?" CunfrfV '•'''' '"^ '">■ ^^' ''« '^''"'' "in' "il- wid l-upe, but de s-gn say dat she mus' lib wid Cupe.' An' .trance""' '"*;'■• ''."' '''''"" ^"P' '>•''=''«'■■>'''= Swhen del '"'' ' ""/■" "■" Sone, but 'II come oacJc when de law am out ob de way." " What do you mean, Cupe ? " Cupe purchases his Wife The judge looked quickly at the earnest old slave and a sudden light came over his face. " Yes," he impul- sively added, « if Susie is found her home may be with you until she asks to go elsewhere." " An' so God am greatah dan de law," said Cupe. I' Yo* may fold dem papahs 'way, Ma'se, case Cupe doan 'tend t' be freed. Ef he wah a free man he could n't stay in de cabin. Et am monstrous pleasant t' be a slabe an' not t' worry obah de rent er feed. Et am pow'ful satisfyin' t' de soul t' open de eyes in de mahn'n an' see de cohn a-growin' an' heah de chicken an' de duck crowin' an' a-talkin' an' t' know dat de flour sack an' de meal bah'l am full. Cupe an' Dinah '11 jes wait m de cabin an' be slabes 'til dey die, an' ef Susie comes back t' Stringtown she '11 fin' de cabin doah open an' de cubbah spread on de table. Jes sot de money to 'side fo' her in case ob a rainy day, an' read de papahs ob freedom obah de grabe ob de niggers, an' den gib de money t' de Susie chile." Cupe backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. The lamp that threw its light over the open book wherein Mr. Wagner once had read the lines that saved Cupe, « By Right of Clergy," lighted the desk, now weighted with coin collected during that man's many days of bondage. As the door closed the judge mur- mured : "Thank God the negro has found the child, but how can I explain to Mr. Wagner that he must give up Susie ? " ° 199 CHAPTER XXXI f (( A FEARFUL SIGN I iil npHE edge of winter, moving down from the North -■• had brought mist and cloud. The air of the day just passed hac^ been saturated with gloom and shade. The clouds hung low; they scraped the tree- tops m the woodland on the hill, but ^^f> rain had fallen from their sombre folds. Instead, cool breezes arose that grew cooler as the day sped and fairly cold when evening came. If the sun moved across the heavens that day no ray from it reached the earth. The pre- ceding night had turned directly into leaden day, the dreary day had worn itself out and disappeared in gloom ; there had been no twilight of morn or eve, there had been no blending of light and darkness. When Cupe stepped into the house of Mr. Wagner It was still daytime, yet the lamp was lighted ; when he stepped out again night had come, but no brighter lamp- light was needed than before the day had fairly sped. There was no moon, but had there been a full moon high in the heavens no ray could have pierced that thick cloak. The heavens and the earth were hidden from sight. When Cupe left the door of Judge Elford the darkness above and below had run together; distance had disappeared ; there was no near, no far. Never before had that night-loving man felt the 200 I L V .n « A Fearful Sign" f 1 f weight of darkness. He stood in the street and rubbed his eyes, opened them wide, muttered and stood ex- pectant, but saw no light save an occasional window g earn, which served but to deepen the surrounding blackness. ** " Et am monstrous strange fo' a nigger t' be caught by de da kness, et am s'prisin' cu'yus. When a nigger sleep et am in de sunshine ; de sof'ness ob de sunshine am soovin' t' de eye. When de night-time come, de cat, de dawg, de coon, de 'possum an' de nigger am on dere feet. De night-time am de time fo' de brack man t be awake, de daytime am de time fo' de nigger t' sleep. An' so et wah in de hot Guinee country Cupe's gran dad come from, when eb'ry creature sleep in de day an' run in de night. Dat habit am wid de nigger Cupe struggled along, aided by the slender light that came from an occasional window, until he turned into a field below the village. Then impenetrable darkness closed in upon him ; the tree-top, waving above, made no mark against the sky, the horizon gave no streak to lighten the gloom ; above and below the deepest dark- ness reigned. Suddenly to the right he caught sight of a moving light that floated slowly in a horizontal direction over the earth, seemingly a few feet above its surface. The eyes of the negro were riveted on the phenomenon, which — a globe of light, not a flame — flitted in and out of sight as it passed behind a clump of bushes or a tree trunk, to reappear again. Following the undulating surface of the ground, it moved steadily along, now to the right, now to the left, but ever onward toward the spot where stood the man whose eyes were fixed on the strange illumination, which was neither spark nor flame 201 Stringtown on the Pike nor any form of fire. There was no wind. The negro thrust a finger into his mouth, withdrew it and held it m the air above his head, but no touch of coldness came to either side; and still the glimmer flittered back and forth, careless alike to path or road, drawing closer with each change of direction. When but a few feet from the negro its direction changed, and then for the first time it started straight for his person, floating about a foot above the earth This final action was responded to by the old man, who until this time, but for the single movement by which he had tested the wind, had stood like a statue. With a motion strangely rapid for one so aged, he jerked his coat from his person, quickly turned the sleeves wrong side out, and then drew it on again. The globe of light vibrated as if in response to the action, tremulously moved up and down like a lantern in a wave-rocked boat, then turned to the right, passed about five feet from the negro, and proceeding now in a direct line dis- appeared in an adjacent thicket. «Yo' cussed Jacko' Lantern, an' ef yo' had got on dis nigger's back yo' 'ud hab rode him 'til mahn'n. But Cupe know how t' circumbent yo', yo' debbil's light. No Jack o' Lantern dare tech de man who w'ars de coat wrong side out. Yo' sly cuss, yo' wabbled about es ef yo wah not keerin' fo' de nigger, but yo' caint fool dis Chile. Lawd, but et wah a close call ; fo' ef yo' had come from b'hin', yo' 'ud hab jumped on de nigger an' rode him till de light ob day. Niggers hab be'n cotched I u A „° ^^"'''■"' ^"^ "°^^ ^" de libelong night, obah de hill, fru de briars an' in de grabeyard An' when dey come home in de mahn'n, tired an' near 'bout dead, de ma'se say dey hab be'n out t' a shindig dance ; but ct am God's fac' dat de Jack o' Lanterns cotch 202 '^-''^p^ "A Fearful Sign" niggers what doan know de coat sign, an' ride 'em like es ef dey wah ho'ses." » His quick ear caught a familiar sound, the breaking of brush caused by the motion of an animal in a bnar patch A smile broke over his face and he joy- ously called out, « Come heah, Dgawge ! " and the dog s cold nose soon touched his hand and his side rubbed agamst the negro's leg. Reaching his hand into his pocket, the slave took therefrom a roll of twine • one end of the string he tied about the neck of the dog' the other he held in his hand. " Keep in de pafF an' go home, yo' fool I " ordered the master, and together man and dog moved onward. « Dis am a monstrous shame t any nigger, an' t' t'ink dat Cupe should ebah feel de disgrace ob such a ting es dis. Et am lucky dat et am night, fo de shame am moah dan Cupe could bear in daylight. But de dawg caint tole nobody, an' nobody but de dawg am heah f see de shame ob de nigger Et am a monstrous shame, an' et am a fearful sign ; de J-awd only knows de meanin' ob sech a sign." J If the old negroes did not believe that to wear a coat wronc side L much ^tT'"' /'>'V^°"\the "Jack o' Lantern" they a/ected as much They also affected to believe that the negro caucht bv one would be ridden untU morning. ^ ^ ^^ 203 CHAPTER XXXII THE SPIRITS AFFECT DINAH OTEP by step these companions, the faithful brute »^ and the bonded slave, had journeyed from String- town, until now the dog's nose was prone against the front door of the cabin, which Cupe could not see. " Dah hab be'n f 'mil'ar signs 'long de pafF, but de dawg caint talk an' de da'kness ob night am cubbahin' de way. Dah wah a roun' rail on de las' fence we climbed, et wah suah de fence what once stood befo' de cabin, but dah ain't no cabin heah. Ef de ebil sperrits hab mobed dat fence an' bent dat pafF t' fool de ole man, dah am trouble befo' his steps, an' he mus' move monstrous keerful. De debbil may be restin' at de end ob dis walk. An? de dawg won't move no moah. Et am de fust time dat dawg hab gone back on his ma'se. Go home Dgawge Wash'n't'n ! " A jerk at the string, and the dog in reply bayed long, tremulously, and stood still, his nose close against the cabin door. « Et am a painful howl yo' am makin', Dgawge. I hab nebbah hea'd sech talk befor'. De voice yo' speak when yo' tree de coon, de 'possum er de rabbet am plain, but Cupe nebbah hea'd yo' talk befo' like dis. What yo' see t' make sech talk es dat ? An' only t' t'ink ob de shame ob de nigger." Suddenly he raised his head, snuffed the air, and dropped the string. « Et am t'back, et am de han' ob backey what hang 'side de cabin doah. De smell am not t' be mistook'n." Again he snuffed the air. «Et 204 The Spirits afFect Dinah am de cabin yo' hab treed, Dgawge; yo' nebbah treed de cabin befo', an' dat es why yo' talk so strange." Reaching out his h.nd, the door was found, and Cupe at once gave a loud rap. There was no response. Again he knocked, with no better result. Cupe slowly moved his fingers over the door. The latch string hung out. -Befo' de Lawd, an' what am de mattfh wid Uinah Opening the door, he groped about inside, rri! ^^.""'"'f /r^* ^^^"^'^ ^ '"^^^h, and lighted the candle. The child lay asleep on the little bed. Dinah with head thrown back so that it rested on the edge of the bed, lay sprawled upon the floor. " By de bones oL my gran'pap ! " No other word did Cupe utter, -that unusual expres- sion, a rehc of his old master, expressed the depth of his surprise Stepping to the prostrate form, he held the candle before the sleeper's lips; the flame leaned out- the light back and forth before her eyes. No move- ment «Et am monstrous strange," he muttered. Kneeling, he placed his nose close to her lips, and at once a scowl spread over his black face. "De cause am cleah ef de night am da'k." Cupe stepped to the mantelpiece, and grasping the bottle, held it before the light. "De cause am not so cleah," he mumbled, as he saw that the surface of the liquid marked the exact spot where he had left it. Shaking his head, the old negro uncorked the bottle and raised it to his nose: "Et am ickah. He thrust the neck into his mouth, his flabby hps sucked about the shoulder of the bottle, gurgle after gurgle followed, and when he replaced the flask more than half the contents had disappeared, " Et am a shame he muttered, " et am a shame dat mus swallah so much watah fo' so little lickah.' 205 gem'n 4 Stringtown on the Pike Grasping Dinah by the shoulders, Cupe gave her a violent jerk, which raised her fairly upon her feet: and as she opened her eyes, he thrust the woman upon a wooden-bottomed chair with a shock that brought her to consciousness. Standing before her, Cupe shook his fist close to her face and said, in a deep, dramatic tone: Dah am direful signs t'-nightj dey come from in de cabin an out ob de cabin, from de air an' from de earf." Uinah dazed and drowsy, only stared back at the old man, who continued: « De signs am t'ickenin' an' pmtin , but de debbil only knows wheddah de end am good er bad." Still no reply. \ ^ « But de signs am not so worryin' es de nigger's dis- « JTk'I tP" • " ^""""^ ^^"^''' ^"bbing her eyes. Dah hab be n double disgrace on Cupe dis night." " What done disgrace yo' ? " "Cupe hab queered hisse'f, fo' he hab be'n los', an' yo hab brung disgrace t' him too." "Dah hab be'n no disgrace ob yoah wife, ef yo' hab be n los , retorted Dinah, with offended dignity. "Dah hab be'n two disgraces ob Dinah. Yo' hab be n drunk, an' yo' hab stol'n lickah. Dah am no wus- sah a sin dan t' steal lickah." " Befo' God, Cupe Hardman, dis nigger hab n't seed ner teched a drop ob lickah fo' a yeah ! " "An' dah am now anuddah disgrace, fo' yo' hab tole a lie. Le debbil hab got yo,' suah." " De bottle am jes' es yo' lef ' et, Cupe Hardman ; et am on de mantelpiece an' am full." She turned her eyes to the vial, and was startled to fin! it half emptied. " De bottle am 'witched; et wah full t' de line." she added. 306 The Spirits affect Dinah Cupe held up his hand, motioning her to cease speak- ing, but the alarmed woman continued • ^ .11"^^' "wu^"""^' ^"^ '" ^" ^'^^^^^ dey hab be'n in et all day. When Dinah heat de graby in de skille an' P.?ces'^ Se'deb^ t f T '"^° "' ^^ ^^'"^ « •- pieces. De debbil broke dat skillet, suah." Yo wah dnink, yo' fool, an' dreamed yo' poahed watah ,„,o de skillet, but yo' poahed et into'de bottle Yo drunk a g,l ob whiskey, an' den yo' fill de bottL up w,d watah an' hab be'n dreamin' like a drunken "Ler dreams. De debbil '11 git yo' lyi„. soul '• S pointed to the hearth, where fragments of the v ssel were scattered. « Do de dream b^'k a skillet > " skiUetMrr '"«"*"'>."'« evidence of the broken sk llet than he cared to admit, said solemnly : " Yo' hab be „ pow'ful wicked Yo- know yo' drunk' de lickal^'^ DM J '""^ ""'" """■ '«'•'"' y' pick "What yo' mean t' 'sinuate? " " wi'' ^°"'' n''"°" P'"^''' ^"P' Hardman > " " What yo' talkin' 'bout .' " " De night de fust singer sit in de tree an' sine six weeks ago t'-morrah night, yo' slip out ob de cabin^Kh gone -bout an hour. Yo' come back wid two wa^h m. .ons m de meal sack 'cross yoah shoulde^!" Ue cause am easy t' 'splain." « Yo' got no million patch, yo' stealin' nigger." ;l to e yo de cause am easy t' 'splain. De million yo foun' m one en' ob de sack wah growin' cr" s de " But de uddah million." **De sack wah lop-sided den, an' Cupe couldn't 207 Stringtown on the Pike carry et. Et wah back jes m t' waste de fruit, st an' eben de weight by slippin' ets mate (r de fence an' put et into de uJdah end." " Bettah yo' say nuffin 'bout de drop ob lickah, Cupe. Et wah pow'ful sweet t' de taste, an' so wah de millions. Dinah taste em bof, an' am gollified t' speak." " Dinah, fo' de sake ob de smoove argyment yo' make, dah will be fergibness dis once, but ef ebah yo' does sech a ting ag'in, so suah es my name es Cupe Hardman I '11 sole yo' down Souf." "Yo'll sole me Souf, yo' nigger! yo' bettah own yo'selb befo' yo' talk 'bout solin' uddah fo'ks ! " " Dinah, yo' am in my pocket. I bought an' paid fo' yo' t'-night, an' ef ebah yo' disgrace yoah owner ag'in es yo' hab dis night, yo' bettah look out, fo' de tramp t' Georgy am sahtin suah." " An' hab yo' bought yo'selb too? " " Yes." " De Lawd be praised, Cupe ! I know yo' hab be'n sabin' money fo' fifty yeahs, an' I know yo '11 use et when de time come. Ef we am free niggers, we kin walk t' Canerdy in de daylight." "Et am de sacred truff, Dinah; yo' hab got sense nuff t' see in de daytime, ef yo' am a woman. A woman am like a dish-rag, Dinah, she am monstrous convenient in her place, but ef she git out ob et she ain't wufF nuffin t' nobody. Doan yo' fergit yoah place, Dinah." This diversion changed the current of Cupe's thoughts, and he dropped at once the subject of Dinah's failings and recurred to his personal misadventure. " Dah wah 'nuddah sign, an' et wah - disgrace t' Cupe. His eyes wah los' t'-night, an' de nigger had t* tie hisse'f t' de dawg t' fin' de cabin." 208 The Spirits afFect Dinah ** Wah yo' drunk ? " The wife's eyes twinkled. " Et wah sperrits suah, but ebil sperrits, not lickah, an' de en' am not yet." " P'raps de same ebil sperrits shet yoah eyes, Cupe, what take de lickah out ob de bottle t' git Dinah into trouble." " Zacly," said Cupe ironically ; " but yo' bettah be keerful dey doan do et ag'in. De bodin' signs am thick'nin' up. Keep yoah eyes peeled, an' be ready, fo' ef de workin' ob de sign am ebil, de cabin doah '11 close, an' yo '11 staht wid Cupe fo' de Norf in de night-time." «4 209 I CHAPTER XXXIII OlD JEW MOSE AND SAMMY DREW 'pHAT night I sat in our home by my mother's „ ™'; ""rood'ig over the humiliations my apparent ca eleTfiv K "'' "«""' '" <'"■"''• indifferent, careless fashion, but as perceptions quickened, my shoit- commgs that had long been manifest to other , suddent flashed ,nto mental view. Shame reddened ^y brown cheek, and realizing that the Stringtown school was I" longer the place for me, I implored my mother to aUow Zm r T™"'™ ''^'"''"="- Never in Stringtown could I win the respect of my comrades nor of myself, nor ^a,n the ground that had been lost. Th,t /istaste.^ IT, f ,' '"''' Z*"" ' "' ""■""g •"= 'i«>e boys, -the hateful scene, daily enacted, left an indelible im- pression upon me, and all these humiliations were vivid at this moment. At last it became impossible to restrain my grief and I cried in despair, «' I cannot go ^^1 cannot, I cannot ! " ' ^ ' « But," pleaded my mother, « we are very poor. Bv close economy we can live here where we own the little home your father left us, elsewhere we would starve. God has blessed us with health; for this be thankful, we cannot ask h.m for wealth." Tears streaked their way down my cheeks, but under the soothing tones of my mothers vo.ce the gush of grief had given place to a mood of seriousness. At this point in our conference a knock interrupted 210 Old Jew Mose and Sammy Drew the scene, a"d when I opened the door Mose the Jew entered. His smiling face gleamed in the lamplight, and by invitation he seated himself at my side. Mose was dressed in his holiday garments, and, per- haps in order to suppress our curiosity on that account, he told us that he was returning from the city. Once a year, every September, Felix Moses, in a new suit of clothes, met in religious ceremony with his own people in Cincinnati. But, so far as we knew, until the next fall he did not again seek the house wherein his kinsmen worshipped. On his return from the present trip he had sought our home ; and so unusual was it for him to visit a townsman except on business, as to cause both my mother and myself secretly to wonder. Divining our thoughts, Mose soon enlightened and likewise amazed us. "To-morrow night I shall start to join the rebel army." "You, Mose?" exclaimed mother. " Yes. I have sold my horse and wagon, collected my accounts, bought a young horse and outfit, and six of us start South to-morrow night." " You are neither young nor a fighting man and your people do not love war." " I am of the tribe of Judah. My people love peace, but have taken part in war since the beginning of his- tory. Our wealth has contributed to the maintenance of the cause of all nations and our bones have whitened the battlefields of every land, ancient and modern." " But this war is not of the Jews' making." "We are at home in all countries, and the Jew makes sacrifices for the fight as he sees it." " Your people are mostly in favour of the North j do any of your Jew friends champion the South ? " 211 V. Stringtown oh the fikd " Old Man Nordman has a son in each army j who can say which son is in the wrong ? " Evidently the man had considered the subject from every side. He rose to depart — held out his hand — and as he did so, took from his coat pocket a package and handed it to mother, saying — " Your child has no longer a father," he said sadiy. " I know that you built great hopes on the money "^hat was to come to you by the will of the Corn Bug. But that is lost. I have no use for money now, i may nf.ver return, and if I do I can begin anew. Use the money you find in this pack- age to educate the boy." Some spot in eJvery life is sacred ; neither pen nor tongue should touch the arcanum that lies in some of these depths. f 212 who CHAPTER XXXIV THE VILLAGE CIRCLE OF STRINGTOVTN A CLEAR sunset ushered in the next night, the -^^ evening that brought the first frost of the season. Mist and cloud were brushed away by a wind from the north, which left the air sparkling and crisp. The voices of the green-winged singers that for six weeks had joyously chirped in tree and shrub, and their relatives, the katydids, that during the summer had called and answered each other, were hushed. No rustling leaves, no cry of insect, no motion of bush, broke the still, crisp night. Great was this contrast to the shrieking blast, the banging shutters, the creaking sign and the beating sleet, that rang their changes when our village circle had met, ten months ago. The quiet air, penetratingly cold, spoke of frost and foretold that slivers of ice before morning would surely form in the shallows of exposed hoof-tracks. For weeks the swallows had been flocking in the meadows. Their noisy chirps but the day before had sounded in the ear of the passer-by. Gathering from their nesting places, these glossy songsters during the summer had collected into great flocks. The tops of the dead trees about the meadow pond of Mr. Nordman were black with their glittering forms. Never before had they seemed so noisy. But when next morning broke, the upstretched branches were bare, the field was deserted. Buried in the cloud depths above and out of sight of man, they 213 Stringtown on the Pike in the night and turned their eyes to the had risen South. As a rule, few stars could be seen of a summer even- ing through the heavy-laden atmosphere. But now, responsive to the crisp, transparent night, numbers of tiny points sprang into i^iew and twinkled. The star- built sickle, which during the early part of June crossed the meridian in the evening's twilight, now had sunk below the western horizon. The Great Dipper, which during the early summer evenings had balanced itself over the meridian's line, the bowl west, t^e handle east of it now, low in the north, hung just above the earth's edge The milkmaid's |iath, which in June had started from the northwest, marked its way close to the eastern hori- zon, to slope down and disappear in the southeast, was now a broad, white band overhead, extending across the sky from the northeast to the southwest. One by one the members of the Circle « dropped " into place that frosty Saturday evening, until, when the lamps were lighted, most of the inverted nail kegs upon which the villagers seated themselves were occupied. The clerk, Mr. Wagner, sat in his mutilated chair;' Judge Elford balanced himself upon his one-legged seat, and Professor Drake, book in hand, sat on his bookcase high stool, beneath the lamp. But in the shadow cast by the stove-pipe, Cupe slipped quietly early in the evening, and stood in the corner. Whenever the door opened he was screened from sight, but his willing hand closed the door after each newcomer. Down the aisle, before the counter, stretched the only vacant strip of floor unbroken by stool, keg or other obstacle. It was the reserved spot where stood the grocer's patrons while their packages of fa — J *^ .«. . r -& sugar and other trifling purchases 214 /ere being The Village Circle of Stringtown wrapped. Recognising the business right of the pro- prietor, the circle invariably reserved this space for his convenience. Suddenly when there was a pause in the talk the quiet, frost-breeding air brought to our car the click of metal striking against stone. At the sound all listened with raised heads. Cupe softly turned the knob and opened the door slightly, lapping his car over the edge. They had not long to wait, for soon the clatter of many hoofs beating the stones of Stringtown pike came through the still night air. Only one word was spt^ken : « raniees." The grocer stepped to where I sat, grabbed the armoured saddle, dragged it from be- neath me and thrust it hastily into an empty salt barrel, which he inverted and rolled beside Cupe, after which act he quickly lifted me to a seat on its head. A pile of bundled garments, blankets, canteens, belts and other accoutrements on an exposed shelf was hastily seized in willing hands and stuffed as unceremoniously into the empty nail-keg seats from which each man arose. Quickly all the contraband articles were concealed and the kegs again inverted. Every man now sat silent in his accustomed place. Only the old negro had been deliberate ; it was he who deftly concealed a contribution from our Stringtown girls, a package that contained a satin banner stitched by loving fingers. White ground- work in one corner of that folded flag was starred in blue and the banner was embellished with three broad stripes, a white one bounded by two red bars. The emblem had previously been wrapped in rubber cloth, and Cupe thrust it carefully into a capacious pocket. As the grocer handed the flag to the negro he remarked: " The Yankees '11 not sarch a nigger." In a few moments the door opened, and the Red-Head 215 Stringtown on the Pike Boy of Nordman entered. He shot quick glances about the room, then, as unconcerned as the other occupants seemed to be, stepped to the counter, asked the grocer for five cents' worth of raisins, making a face as he did so at mc as I sat on the barrel, and I viciously mouthed back again. Then there came the sound of rattling scabbards, the clash of metal against metal, the door opened and a man entered dressed in blue. He was an officer, and glanced searchingly around until his gaze lighted on the Red-Headed Boy, who seemed to stare indifferently back at him, exactly as did every other member of the circle. "Evening, friends," said the soldier, "a cool night this." " Rather fresh," replied the grocer. " How far is it to Nordman's pond ? " " 'Bout half a mile." Then, pointing to the boy, the grocer added, " This boy lives with Mr. Nordman." The cavalryman's quick eye surveyed the room again ; his scrutiny was directed successively fro.n face to face ; he turned his attention again to the grocer, who, seem- ingly oblivious to the inquisition, stood with folded arms. " Come on, sonny," the soldier said, addressing the boy, "show me the way to Nordman's pond; we camp there to-night. Good-night, friends." The boy followed him, but as he passed old Cupe, the negro leaned over, and putting his rubber lips close to the suspect's ear whispered : " Yo' bettah look out, yo' sly debbil, yo' am spinnin' de fre'ds ob yoah own shroud." Another rattle of sabres and squeaking of leather, a word of command, a tramp of horses' feet, and in a few moments the circle of men within the room again sat in fuicnrp 2l6 CHAPTER XXXV THE LOVE SONG OF THE REBEL SOLDIER CTEPPING from his place behind the door, Cupe, ^ evidently anxious to leave the room, addressed Mr. Wagner : " An' may de nigger ax, did yo' read dem papahs ? " " Yes; " said the cleric glancing at the judge. " An' hab yo' nuffin t' say ? " Again the clerk glanced at the judge, and slowly drawled out, "Not now," emphasising the word " now." "An' yo' may wait too long ef yo' doan look out," mumbled the negro. Turning to Judge Elford, the slave asked : « An' hab yo' anyt'ing t' say t' Cupe, Ma'se Jedge ? " "No," said the judge, sharply, "not now; ' and he, too, emphasised the word « now." But he did not glance at the clerk. ^ Bowing, the negro seemed inclined to ask another question, but instead stepped back to his place, for at that instant there came a second interruption from with- out. Sounds of muffled footsteps in the dust before the grocery, the gentle squeak of saddle leather,— just suffi- cient to indicate to ears familiar with the sound that mounted men were cautiously slipping from their horses, — and then whispering voices were heard. A face was now pressed against the glass panel in the door, and a pair of eyes gazed into the room. More than one hand 217 4 Stringtown on the Pike sought a side pocket j the grocer stepped quickly to the rear of the store, turned, and in the gloom stood facing the door, with a bright object thrown across his arm -- an object that glittered in the faint light. ' "Hist!" he whispered; «ef et es a raid, we have work to do." And then a double tap or rap was struck upon the door, a rap that seemed to be understood by all, for the grocer dropped his gun and stepped back into the light, and each hand was withdrawn from the pocket that had so suddenly encased it. The door opened, and SIX Stringtown County men, two of whom were mem- bers of the village circle, came into the room. It was evident that this b6dy of men was expected by some, if not all, of the members present, but the raid (for' we knew full well the unconcern of the blue-coated soldier was assumed) had aroused suspicion. Even Cupe as shown by his secreting the Confederate banner, was one of the initiated, and even he accepted that the blue- coated soldiers had slipped back, for I heard him mutter, " Damn dat Red-Head cuss ! " The nail kegs were suddenly inverted, their concealed contents were removed and parcelled out to respective owners. The coats of the intruders were thrown open and the new leather belts were hastily buckled around each waist. The grocer produced seven pistols from an unseen receptacle, one for each of the six-belted bolsters, the seventh being laid upon the counter. A blanket roll was then taken by each man, who quickly stepped to his horse and strapped the roll to the back of the Mexican saddle, and then returned to the room ; where, amid a series of hand-shakings, in which all joined, the booted and newly armed men prepared to make their last fare- well to Stringtown friends. But the saddle on which I sat, still hidden in the inverted salt barrel, lacked an 218 11 [ Love Song of the Rebel Soldier owner, and one pistol and' belt lay unclaimed on the counter. A whispered consultation was held by the adventurous volunteers, who were preparing for a peril- ous attempt to slip through the Federal lines into the bouth to join the Confederate forces. Evidently these men expected a companion who had failed to appear, and for whom they were restlessly waiting. " Comrades, we may never meet around the old stove again ; let us have a last song before we start," said one ot them. « Let it be to our sweethearts. Captain." " ?u y"' /.="" ^ Southern girl, and glory in the name, I boast of ,t with greater pride than glittering wealth and fame : I envy not the Northern girl her robes of beauty rare, ThougMiamonds deck her snowy neck and pearls bespread her " Huzza! huzza! for the Southern girl so fair. Huzza! for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear. " Our homespun dress is plain, I know, our hats palmetto too, But then this shows what Southern girls for Southern rights can do. ° We send our sweethearts to the war, but, dear girls, never mind. The Southern soldier ' 11 not forget the girl he left behind. «' Huzza! huzza! for the Southern girl so fair. Huzza! for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear." When the song was ended, it was thought unwise to linger, but just as they were about to depart, the man they were expecting entered. The new-comer was Mose the Jew. His face was wreathed in smiles, those eternal smiles, and a familiar chuckle he was wont to make when pleased greeted the assembly as he lifted the saddle and carried it from the room. Returning, he pro- ceeded to belt and arm himself as the others had done. "The flag — the flag," said the club-footed cavalier, 219 I ; i ■ Stringtown on the Pike "we must not forget the flag." Old Cupe stepped for- ward—not to the man who spoke, but to Mose, to whom he handed the rubber-bound parcel. Then he turned and addressed the leader : " Bettah yo' go out de Mt. Carmel pike an' cut 'roun' de county co'ht-house an' git back ter de Stringtown pike by de souf road. Steer cl'ar ob de pond ob Ma'se Nordman." "Yes," interrupted another, " a squad of Union cav- alry is camping in the pond-field." " We know it," was the reply ; « Mose followed them beyond the Campbellite Church and has just returned." In single file they left the room, Mose bringing up the rear, to my amazement accompanied by my chum, the grocer's boy, who as he passed handed me the key to his box of papers. " Take them," said he, « take them home with you, Sammy, pictures, short-hand notes, all ; if I get back from the war, I '11 want them, if not — " He faltered, tears sprang to his eyes, he held out his hand, which I grasped. Then he turned and ran from the room. The occupants of the circle crowded close upon the retreating forms, and soon the storeroom was deserted. The squad of rebels unhitched their horses, quietly mounted them— the grocer's boy springing up behmd the Jew — and then they turned toward the South. Without another word this group of resolute men and the chum of my childhood, whom I never saw again, started in a brisk trot up the Stringtown pike. And I recall now that after the sound of the horses' hoofs died away in the distance, we who lingered outside the grocery caught the strain of a song from afar that seemed almost like an echo. The musical voice of the rebel captain came floating to our ears, bearing a couplet of the ode he had sung in praise of the Southern girl, the verse in which occurred the lines : 220 » Love Song of the Rebel Soldier " We send our sweethearts to the war, but, dear girls, never mind, The Southern soldier '11 not forget the girl he left behind." But the love song soon died away, as did the tramp of the horses. The bareheaded watchers stood a moment in the night air, then re-entered the grocery, the broken circle formed again, and each man sat silent, gazing at the stove. Then occurred a curious thing. The Red-Headed Boy of N-rdman had returned, and, unperceived by me at !ea-,t, had entered the room with the ethers, but appar- tr.d; without an object, and, after glancing about, he quietly started out again. As he passed, Cupe, reaching down from his station near the door, caught him by the ear and held him fast, whispering a few words as he did so. Turning to those about the stove, the negro asked Judge Elford, " An' hab yo' nuffin fo' suah t' say t' Cupe ? " . « No." " De signs am fulfillin' demsel's monstrous fas'," the negro mumbled. « Yo' won't fergit t' count de money in de desk an' read de papahs befo' de Co'ht, of yocasion 'quires ? " « I have promised to do so," replied the judge. Turning to Mr. Wagner, Cupe asked, « An' did yo' read de writin' I lef ' yo' las' night ? " « I did." " An' caint yo' say nuffin t' Cupe ? " " Not now, Cupid." With a troubled look, old Cupe, leading the Red- Headed Boy by the ear, left the grocery and passed out into the starlight. 221 f CHAPTER XXXVI "DINAH, CU?E MUS' LEAVE DE CABIN" OpHE time consumed by Cupe and his prisoner in -■• reaching the cabin was not sufficient to permit them to leisurely walk that distance. They must have run part of the way, for in a very short time the cabin door was thrown open, and holding the boy firmly the negro entered the' room. " Brung me de fox trap an' Cham, an' de chicken-house lock, an' a strap, de debbil am t' pay." Dinah obeyed ; Cupe's voice evinced his suppressed excitement. Forcing the captive into a rustic chair, they bound him securely; a long strap was wrapped about both the chair and the body of the boy, and locked by a padlock to two staples that for some other purpose had been previously driven into a log behind him. Thus the boy sat with his back against the wall ; his arms were strapped tightly to his side, but his head, forearms and hands were free. Cupe drew the table close to his bound victim's knees ; the boy's hands could easily move about its surface. A large pan of water containing a dipper was placed on the table, a liberal supply of pro- visions was thrust alongside it, and after this had been done Cupe said: "Yo' am likely t' want fo' comp'ny befo' long, yo' East Kaintuck scrub, an' yo' may git hungry befo' de comp'ny calls. Dah am grub t' eat an* watah t' drink, an' while yo' wait, yo' kin tell yoah story t' yoah ma'se, de debbil." The boy's eyes gleamed with hatred, but he made no reply. 222 "Cupe mus' leave de Cabin" ml^7 .""".."'^'^ '"'"'^ '° ^'"^*^- For once his method of addressing her exhibited less of the ruler and more of the companion. The affection that had ever been a part of h.s true self, but which was generally W h . ^, ?f "'''' f °^ "'P' ^° '^' '^'^^-^' He took her hand led her to the fireplace and seated her in a low corn-shuck chair on one side of the hearth, himself talr- mg a Similar chair opposite. Jl^r7\ ^^ '^'"^ '^''''^y ^"^ '""^^'•'X' " de min' Ob yoah husban am runnin' back t'-night _ back t' de days Ob de long ago. Dah hab be'n joy an' sorrah fo' de heaht wa'm an' cole fo' de flesh, Dinah, 'twixt de night yo lef yoah home on Grassy Creek an' now. Min yo de ole time, Dinah -min' yo' de time when Cupe^came ndm' dat fust Satuhday night t' de cabin " I min' de time, Cupe." «Yo' wah a beauty ob a wench, Dinah, yo' wah d- flowah Ob de Ian' An' well do Cupe min' dat night, too. Befo he staht fo' de trip dat Satuhday ahftahnoon he Stan befo ole ma'se an' say: ^ Dah am a monstrous pritty gearl on Grassy Creek.' An' ole ma'se say : * De fadah away de bettahj et am well she am no closah dan Grassy Creek.' An' Cupe ax .nay he borrah ole Pnnce? an ma'se cuss an' damn de wench on Grassy Creek, but Cupe doan say nuffin ; an' when ma'se stop Cupe jes Stan' still, fo' while de ma'se cuss an' sw'ar' he doan say de word no. « * What fo' yo' stan'n' dah fo' ? ' ax ma'se. «! V ' t-^°^" °^ °^^ ^"""^^ '' "d^ '' Grassy Creek.* f K . , . ^?'' '^y '"^''^' ' ^"' •"'"' y°' a'" back by foah o clock Monday mahn'n.' An' es Cupe staht t' A "^ .. ^ kmdness, ma'se say : ^ Shet yoah mouf/ An den Cupe ax : ' What 'bout de pat-a-ro/e ? ' 223 Stringtown on the Pike « An' ma'se, he take a papah out ob his pocket an' write de pass, an' say : * De pat-a-role '11 gib yoah brack back a wa'min' ef yo' ain't home by foah o'clock Monday mahn'n.' " Min' yo', Dinah, dat Satuhday night ? " Dinah bowed her head. " An' min' yo' how supple Cupe wah den, Dinah ? " Again she nodded. "Yoah cabin wah down in de hollah jes back ob yoah ma'se's house, Dinah, an' es Cupe ride up t' de doah yo' step t' de sill — et wah a monstrous good sign, Dinah. Yo' wah stan'n' in de yard befo' de doah, an' Cupe pull up de* ho'se an' look down an' say a scf ' word, an' yo' smile up in his face. An' Cupe jes git down an' stick de switch he hole in his han' in de sof ' earf keerless like — a fool nigger who am in lub iin't got no sense — an' he take d bag ob cohn off Prince an' Stan' et 'side yoah doah an' lead Prince t' de stable. " Min' yo' dat bag ob col.r, Dinah ' " A tear ran down the cheek of the old woman. "Dah wah a bluebird on a pole in front ob yoah cabin, an' a lady bluebird sat in de little doah befo' de nes'. Jes den de man bird wid de bright, blue coat an' red breast come from out de air an' light by her side ; an' Cupe pint t' de cooin' birds an' say : * Dat sign am good.' An' yo' make no ansah, but take Cupe by de han' an' lead him into de cabin, an' he sit on one side ob de harf, an' yo' sit on de uddah. But we two niggers hab no need fo' fiah dat night, Dinah. " And when de niggers see dat bag ob cohn stan'n' by yoah doah, Dinah, dey pass de word 'roun' ; dah wah n't no buck nigger boddah yo' ag'in. Eb'ry Satuhday night, when Cupe ax fo' de pat-a-role pass, ole ma'sc growl, an' den he write Cupe de dah wah a wed'n' pe de pass, an' at las' 224 )ocket an* oah brack 1 o'clock )inah ? " back ob up t* de ood sign, doah, an* y a sr.f >e jes git n de sof lub i in't rince an' ble. ob yoah befo' de coat an* ler side ; sign am 3e by de ; side ob I niggers an'n' by i'; dah Eb'ry jass, ole ' at las' " Cupe mus* leave de Cabin " « Min' yo' de weepin' willah befo' de doah ? Et wah de bad sign ob yoah life, Dinah, an' Cupe wah de cause. De switch he stick in de groun' wah a twig ob weepin' willah. De nex' time he call on yo' de buds had broken ; de nex' time de lebes had sprouted ; de weepin' willah-tree wah planted by de han' ob Cupe, an' de trouble et brought wah befo' yoah doah, Dinah, an' settlin' obah yoah cabin. Cupe could n't say nuffin, but he know de ebil spell wah on ; dah am no way t' change dat awful willah-tree sign. Et runs fo' fifty yeah, Dmah. An' when de fust chile come t' smile on us, de pure little blos'm widout any tech ob white — ebende sole ob de feet wah not white — yo' wah so happy, Dmah, an' proud ob de pure nigger blood in ets brack cheek. Den Cupe slip out an' start' by dat willah slip an* pray t' all de gods fo' de sign t' change. But et wah no use, Dinah ; de little blos'm grew big 'nuff t' creep t' de harf, an' den et close ets eyes an' pass away." Dinah sat silent, tear after tear rolling down her cheek. " An' 'nuddah chile come, an' grow up t' set in de doah, but de shaddah ob de willah fall an' rubs ets life out. Foah blos'ms what come t' us on Grassy Creek wah blighted by dat ebil willah-tree shaddah; dah am foah grabes 'bout es long es an ax handle, side by side, in de ole Grassy Creek grabeyard." Dinah rocked back and forth, sighing and moaning. « An' den Cupe beg ole ma'se t' buy yo', Dinah, an' brung yo' home, an' ma'se say yo' wah a comely nigger, an' Grassy Creek wah too far fo' Cupe t' ride ebr'y Satuhday ebenin', an' he buy yo' fo' twelve hund'd dollahs an' build de cabin fo' yoah nes'. But et wah n't no use, de ebil sign go on. «Min' yo^ de night las' week when Cupe wah gone from sundown till mnhn'n ? " »5 225 a Stringtown on the Pike "Yes." " Dinah, he slip back t' de ole cabin. Dah dat deb- bilish ole tree stan', ets limbs wavin' in de night air. Cupe step t' its side an' cuss et in de moonlight. De long fingahs move in de wind an' rub on de head ob de nigger, but Cupe had swo' by de chillun what am gone t' kill dat tree when de fifty yeah had passed, an' et wah fifty yeah when de sugah watah run las' spring. An' he took his ax an' chop es nebbah he chopped befo'. De chips fly like lebes in wintah, an' de ole tree tuhn t' one side an' fall bump on de groun'. Den Cupe scattah salt on ets stump ^ an' pu; his foot on de ole debbil's back an' cuss de hoodoo tree." Dinah chuckled. " Dah hab be'n thirteen blos'ms t' cheer yo', Dinah, sense dat switch wah sprouted, an' eb'ry chile es brack es Cupe. Yo' hain't had no shame t' bury, Dinah." Cupe pointed to the hearthstone between them. " Dinah," he asked, " min' yo' de fac' dat nebbah hab two chillun sat side by side on de great stone ? An' now yoah head am white, yoah face am wrinkled, yoah han' am skinny an' yoah toof am yallah. Dah am thirteen 'ittle grabes — foah on Gi assy Creek an' nine b'hir' dis cabin. Et am a hoodoo numbah, but now de ebil spell am obah. De willah-tree am dead. De misbus an' all de ole fren's am sleepin' quiet ; de wicked ole ma'se am walkin' — he only am movin' ob all de fo'ks yo' knew when yoah cheek wah plump, yoah toof white an' yoah skin shiny." Dinah was sobbing softly, and Cupe fell upon his knees on the spot upon the hearth to which he had pointed, and took her hands between his rough palms, lovingly stroking the bony fingers. " Dinah, t'-night Cupe mus' lebe de ole cabin. De 226 "Cupe mus' leave de Cabin" signs am all fulfilled, de fifty yeah ob pain am passed, an' we two niggers am '"ree from de willah-tree spell. De Susie chile only am lef ' t' pint back t' de sacred promise, an' t' sabe dat chile, an' lib up t' de promise we made de young ma'se, Cupe mus' lebe de ole home." He took from his tattered pocketbook a paper that, although he could not read, he evidently fully compre- hended, and held it out to his wife : " Yo' may stay in de cabin, Dinah, ef yo' wants t' stay, an' when de mahn'n comes ef yo '11 take dis papah t' Ma'se Elford, yo '11 git yoah freedom an' kin go back t* yoah ole home on Grassy Creek, de cabin wah' yo' stood in de doah when Cupe ride up fifty yeah ago." " An' ef I doan take de papah ? " " Pack yoah duds an' bid farewell t' de Ian' ob yoah birf, fo' when t'-morrah sun rise Cupe an' Susie '11 be down in de Licking hills wid dere faces tu'ned to'ard de cole Canerdy Ian'." Again he held out the paper, " Dinah, will yo* go back t' de ole cabin on Grassy Creek, er will yo' walk into de night wid Cupe?" The woman pushed back the paper and repeated the vow made twice before : " De Canerdy Ian' am cole an' de grabes ob de missus an' de chillun am deah, in ole Kalmuck, but fo' de good ob de Susie chile an' de lub ob ole Cupe, Dinah '11 close de cabin doah ferebah." De 227 CHAPTER XXXVII RED-HEAD, CAPTIVE IT was needless for them to consult concerning the next step. Their conversation had often been of such a nature as to prepare both for the course they must pursue in case it became desirable to "run away." Rapidly they moved about the rough room, selecting the various articles of clothing or the utensils that might prove of use in their wanderings. They recognised that 'ittle could be carried, and consequently few household articles aside from the provisions were disturbed. The only exception to this exacting rule proved to be the garments of Susie, for these were all neatly packed by Dinah in an oilcloth sack, the mouth of which was closed with a draw-string. The captive boy sat silent, closely watching the busy pair, who, upon the contrary, seemed to give him no attention. In a short time the hasty preparation was made, the slaves were ready to start for Canada, one with a basket, the other with a bag. Then Cupe turned to the boy, and standing before him said abruptly : " Yo' am a debbil from the mount'ns, yo' Red-Head cuss, an' hab no place 'mong civil fo'k. Why doan yo' go back t' yoah pap ? " " Can't, yo' old nigger," the boy answered insolently, *' Wha' am yoah pap ? " « Dead." 228 Red-Head, Captive " Yo' bettah go back t* yoah ma when yo' eit loose." « Dead." The negro's heart gave signs of relenting. In a more kindly voice he said : "Hab yo' no bruddahs?" « One." "Yo' bettah go t' yoah bruddah." The boy shook his head. " Am dah a reason why yo* doan eo ? " «Yes." ^ " What am de cause ? " " Dead." The old man, started unconsciously; then he lowered his voice : " An' hab yo' no sisterin, chile ? " " Yes." " How many sisterin ? " "One." " Caint yo' go an' lib wid de gearl ? " Tears moistened the eyes of the captive boy; he shook his head. " Ef Ciipe '11 unlock de chain an' open de doah will yo' go back t' de mount'n gearl ? " Again the boy shook his head. "Tole us de reason, chile;" and automatically the slave arranged the provisions on the table more con- veniently. "Tole us de reason, chile." " Dead." The man stood a moment in silence. "An' hab yo' n^ uddah kin but Ma'se Nordman ? " " No other." " Et am a shame, et am a sin an' a shame " " What ? " " Dat yo' hab come t' Stringtown. But yo' caint help 229 Stringtown on the Pike et, yo' am mixed in de sign ; " then, suddenly, with the word " sign " the negro changed his manner of expres- sion. That word brought bacic to his mind the fact that the boy was destined to work evil according to the " sign." The superstitious old man forgot the former softened voice ; no touch of pity was left in his heart ; his tone grew harsh again : " Yo' cub ob Satin, an' et wah good fo' de libin' an' no hahm t' de n ad ef yo' wah dead too ; " and he turned away. A vicious look came over the boy's face, he clenched his hand, and tried to shake his fist at the speaker. Neither spoke again. Susie, ready dressed — for the child had not been disrobed that night — was taken from her bed, wrapped in a woollen shawl, and, still asleep, was gently clasped in the arms of the man ; her head rested on one shoulder, while the bag of clothing de- pended by a strap from the other. Dinah, bearing the provisions, as if determined to make good her thrice-told promise, opened the cabin door, stepped outside, and stood ready to close it. But just then Cupe, who, too, had reached the door, cried, " Come back, Dinah ; dah am a fren' t' go wid us, an' a fren' t' say good-bye." He laid the sleeping child on the bed, and stepping to the hearth, raised one of the flat stones, taking from be- neath it three large kidney-shaped beans, each at least an inch in diameter. These he put into his pocket, addressing them as he did so: — " Ef de time ebah comes t' act, yo' kin do yoah work ; but yoah mouf hab be'n long shet sense yo' grew in de hot Guinee Ian*. An' now fo' de las' word from de oldest fren' ob all." He took his fiddle from the peg and raised it to his shoulder} his eyes closed, his chin dropped until it 230 Red-Head, Captive touched the instrument, and then his expert fingers touched the strings. Plaintive was the melody wafted into the air as the unlettered musician drew the bow. From his warm heart came the pa^'K.*-" touch that vibrated the strings until they fairly poke. He played only one air: " We'll hu>'t r. moah ;o' de 'possum an' de coon, On de me '' "'"'' "« -^o"- of bushes nearby a rlbt ^ '"T""' ^'°"' ' -lump pike. The man'dr:; d ,-s:?cl -r t.'"" °' '"' woman tremblinriv and thrh ' ^1"^^ "" """ °( the at the tiny form'at' lir 1,"""^""";'°"' ^"^'"^ «epTt^-^i;^:*tr.1-;:^ 234 ^ *" [k( ?h on the hill t MitcheJJ, as les ironically 5ut the aban- ed travellers, treading the rom stumps >n and mus- t the war is nee stood a for camp- lo scattered no limping lain in the years pre-, >ivouacked. Je caissons y. ivhite pike ^■ass-grown • the pike ^ 'i pond deep and ;her croak the com- 1 a clump 5t of the fm of the 'd gazing >g rabbit the road, ^>^./^- :ed their Return of the Refugees dust of the pike back to the silent fort that could no longer be seen in the darkness. As they entered the shades of the gloomy hollow the cry of a hoot-owl broke upon the air ; coming from a shrub within the solitary fort, now on their left ; then, from a dead beech-tree that rises above the graves of the soldiers behind the rifle-pits on the crest of the other hill, sounded the answering cry of the old owl's mate. The woman touched the man on his left shoulder, and he turned to catch sight of the tiny crescent moon shining tiirough the limbs of a dead shrub. Again the old woman touched his shoulder, his left shoulder, and pointed to the brush-screened new moon. That night the travellers rested with a negro friend who lived in Rat Row, and the next morning turned their footsteps down the Ohio River. They tramped along the shore by easy journey, stopping often to rest, never at a loss for lodging places, until they reached a point opposite Carrollton, where they called the ferry- man and crossed the river. From this point they struck back into Kentucky, following the road that parallels the beautiful and picturesque Kentucky River until Carrollton was left far in the rear. Then they struck into the hills and moved in the direction of Stringtown. "Et wah a long way 'roun*,'' said Cupe, "but de rabbet knows ets bisness. De longes' way 'roun' am de safes' way home ef de rabbet cross de mff." 235 ; ^:«l CHAPTER XXXIX cupe's plea for Susie's name '^ a kjK)ll back from the road stood a colonial ax^jision, ;in hour's ride from Stringcown. Before it stretched a woodland pasture that gently sloped from the house. Grea^ sugar-maple and veJKrable walnut trees shaded this spacious lawn, which w is artistically ornamented by clumps of yucca and groups of cedar, pine, and juniper trees. A picturesque drive led from the door of the mansion, down the slopes, through the grounds to the front gate. A dense osage orange hedge bordered the opposite side of the road. In an easy-chair on the porch of the house sat a grey- haired man ; a party of merry, young people was pre- paring to enter a large carryall that stood on the drive before the porch. Two of the pleasure seekers — young girls — kissed the man and said : " Farewell until morn- ing, papa ! " Then the party drove down the avenue on to the public road and disappeared from sight. The man on the porch in the shade of the trees leaned back in his easy-chair and watched the sun go down ; gently rocking, he pufFed a cigar, the curling smoke of which could be seen by one with good eyes frc: he distant hedge bordering the street and extendin'. ^..osite the mouth of ■-:':: ^ avenue that led to .h" ise. Three faces, two hem black, the other w . ^peered through the hedge commanding a full view of t! c solitary figure on the porch. Twilight deepened, a; 236 the log Cupe's Plea for Susie's Name cabins behind the house came another vehicle, a spring wagon, laden with negroes dressed in gay-coloured, holi- day attire. The three figures drew back at their ap- proach and concealed themselves behind the thick part of the hedge. The wagon passed down the avenue, turned out into the road and disappeared in the direction of Stringtovvn. The man on the porch, the sole occupant of the deserted house, unconscious of their watchful eyes,pufFed his cigar. Evening drew near; the dew and the shadows of night fell together. The man threw the stump of his cigar into the lawn, entered the house, lighted a lamp and without drawing the curtain seated himself at a table and began to read an historical record of Kentucky. Thus he sat alone until deep darkness brooded over all things without the house. Unrest tormented him. Dropping the book and lighting a cigar, the uneasy watcher threw his feet upon the arm of a tall chair, dropped his head upon the back of the rocker, faced the window and gently puffed his cigar. With lips pursed together, he threw a thread of white smoke into the room and dreamily gazed upon it with half-closed eyes. The deep blue that curled up- ward from the tip of his cigar contrasted sharply with this vapour-mixed cloud. The circle of smoke sped to the ceiling and shattered itself against a projecting decoration. Another ring, moving like creeping cotton, followed the first; trembling, weaving, seemingly un- decided as to whether it should move up or down, the phantom balanced itself in the air, then collapsed and disappeared. A third followed the second; softer, whiter, more perfect than the others, it moved upward more gracefully. The thin thread of blue from the tip 237 H 'r 5' Stringtown on the Pike of the cigar between the forefinger and thumb of the nicotine dreamer followed this retreating circle; it thrust itself into the centre of the vortex ring, then lapped ovei it, and before the combination burst spread as a revolv- ing sheath from above its upper edge. Into the stillness and the silence passed another fairy ring ; a feather's touch would have crushed it, an up- starting pufF of air would have been fatal. Slowly this fifth wreath moved upward ; drawing the blue thread from the cigar's tip into its depths, it balanced itself exactly in the torpid air, and then, just before collapsing, the man who facejd it saw from the inner circle, where blue and white mingled, a pair of eyes, blue eyes, spring into existence and gaze down into his own. The hand that held the cigar dropped, but the man was unconscious of the movement; his mind turned from the picture above to a scene of other years, when a pair of living eyes, eyes exactly like these, gazed be- seechingly into his own. These phantom orbs from out the burst fairy wreath had reflected a glimpse of other days. Then his glance dropped to the night-black win- dow; there, set in a face of darkness quite different from the blackness about it, hung two white eyes that gazed in upon him who dreamed as waking men some- times dream. The startled watcher turned back to the sun-white wreath above ; it had vanished. He dropped his glance to the black face in the window ; the eyes were gone. Not a word did he utter, but grasping the decanter by his side, turned it up and drank deeply of the amber liquid ; then, as if to test the correctness of his senses or to face the spell that bound him, threw his head back, gazed intently upward, puffed at the cigar, and a wreath softer than a cobweb and as white as snow sprang into existence. Floating in space as only vortex 238 Cupe's Plea for Susie's Name rings can float, enlarging, drawing from above and below, from without and within, growing larger and softer and purer as it expanded, this thing of beauty, alive to the sight, but dead to the touch, expanded to the size of a child's face; then from out its depths a portrait from the past sprang again into life, a child's face, a baby face with great, beseeching eyes. Startled as he had never been before, the man shrank, dropped his cigar upon the carpet, and his gaze fell again to the window ; there, close against the glass, gazing in upon him intently, as had the wreath-face from above, peered beseeching eyes like those he had just seen. That same face looked upon him from out the night ; brightened by the lamplight, set in the frame of blackness, this implor- ing face was older, sadder, yet identical with that mind picture framed by the fairy wreath. Springing from his place, the man threw the door wide open ; for a time the darkness blinded him, and even when he pierced the depths nothing was to be seen but the streaming light that from the window marked its way across the drive and into the clump of trees beyond. He slammed the door, turned the key, sprang to the window and pullr iown the Venetian blind. The slatted shade fell to its place almost with the turn of the key, so rapidly did he move, but simultaneously with its rustle a heavy knock sounded on the door, a knock that made the silent house echo. Notwithstanding the expe- riences through which he had just passed, without any hesitation whatever the man turned the key and again threw open the door. A flood of light streamed across the po.cii, showing three figures, one a child that stood in front of the open way. They entered without invita- tion and the host blurted out angrily : « What the devil do you want .? " 239 pi t r. .1 Stringtown on the Pike " An' hab yo' fo'got de ole man, Ma'se ? " " What ! Cupe and Dinah." " An' Susie, Ma'se, an' iiusiv. « Who is Susie ? " " Doan yo' know de chile ? " " No ; an' I don't care to know her. When did you get back, Cupe ? " "Look at de honey gearl," said the negro, ignoring the question. " Look at de chile ag'in, Ma'se." Something in the tone of the old negro startled the owner of the house. He put his finger under the chin of the child, turnpd her face up to the light and gazed down into her wondering eyes. The eyes in tb^ moke wreath ucre on him again, the face in the window was now a face in the room. A twinge of pain that did not escape the quick eye of Cupe passed over his counte- nance ; memory served the man truly, and in a flash he saw a child in the nrms of a beseechiiig woman. And he remembered, too, that together mother and child had passed out into the nigh , out of his sight, out of his life. " No, Cupe, I do not know her," he said, and turned to the negro. " Now answer my question. When did you get back r " Again the negro drew the attention of the man to the girl. " Doan yo' 'lect de addah oh dc chile ? "Noi and I care >thin for either the child or its mother. Vhat brin^ /oi ere tonight? Glancing about tht. lOom, the negro caught sight of a hand-mirror, left on the table by one of the ) uung ladies. Picking it up, he handed it to the man. " Look int:o de glass, Ma'se ; see de eyes dat look back in yoah face an* den look at de eyes ob de chile." _ A flush spread over Mr. Manlcy's face j he raised his 240 Cupels Plea for Susie's Name clenched fist, but the negro making no motion to evade the blow, said in a low, respectful tone : "*Dced, Ma'se, Cupe doan mean no disrespec'. Look at de eyes ob de chile, an' look in de glass an' den ook at de face ob de chile an' t'ink ob de woman yo' lubbed m \ork State, an' who follud yo' back t' Kain- tuck. She tramped ut into de night, a lone woman, wid yoah chile in her arms, from dis same room." The hand of the man trembled ; he dn.pped the glass and sank into a chair. 1 he negro closed the door and locked it, gazing constantly at the man, who for a moment made no efFort to renew the conversation. Ole Sukey, continued Cupe, " who buy her freedom, saw yo in Sah'toga wid de muddah ob de chile She wah bright an' pritty, an' de smile wah on her face " Manley's anger blazed out. " Cupe Hardman, when morning comes your back will answer for this night's rk. Out of my house, you impudent vagabonds. Back tc Janada, back with that brat, or by God I '11 — " The negro sank upon his knees and held up his hands. Cupe an' Dinah raised yo', Ma'se, on de ole Hardman ta m. Dey lub yo' now es ef yo' wah dah own chile. Mm yo not de story ob yoah life ? Lis'n Cupr >,^fo' yo dribe dis little chile 'way. Yoah mudder ar, yoah pap once libbed in Stringtown ; dey wah poo^ people. Ma se an yo' wah a wee babe. Den de sickness came to yoah house an' den deff. Bof yoah muddah an' yoah pap wah carried t' de grabeyard. An' den ole ma'se say • Dinah, km yo' raise de orfin Sf ingtown chile?' an' Dinah say : » Es easy t' raise two chillun es one.' An' ma se brung yo' home nex' day, a little boy wid great eyes -no uddah chile but yoah own kin hab sech eyes— and C.^pe glanced at Susie. "An' vo' grew up long wid de chile 1 lub so well, de boy who.c mud- 241 11 I. * t: ^' : I Stringtown on the Pike dah die long 'go. But dah wah no use trying yo' two boys wah cross-grained an' tough, yo' fight an' bite an' raise de debbil, an' at las' sep'rate — yo' know why. De fa'm wah not big nuff fo' bof ob yo'. Ef ebah yo' had stepped foot on de ole place ahftah de las' act yo' did, Ma'se Hardman 'ud hab killed yo' suah. But he keep his mouf to hisse'f fo' de honah ob de fam'ly. Ma'se Hardman gib yo' dis fa'm when yo' tuhn 'way ; de Ian' wah rich an' yo' wah smaht ; et am a biggah fa'm now. Yo' am a fine gem'n an' a rich man, Ma'se." " Well, but why are you here, Cupe i " said Mr. Manley. " Why* are you here to-night ? Do you want help, money ? " The negro shook his head. « What is it, Cupe ? " Pointing to the child, the black, still kneeling, said : "Look at de Susie chile, doan look at Cupe." "I have never seen the girl before, Cupe; I swear by the Lord -- " Cupe held up his hand : " Doan sw'ar' et out, Ma'se." Then he added ; « She hab no muddah." " Well." " She needs a faddah." The man raised his fist, but Cupe again held out his defenceless hand. " She needs de name." " What damned scheme is this ? Nigger Cupe, by God I '11 stretch your neck on the old elm in the back pasture sure as Heaven lets me live till morning. Out, out of the room ! When daylight comes the hounds will be on your track." No movement was made by the kneeling negro ; with upstretched hands, uncovered heac^ he looked beseech- ingly upward. Down the cheeks ut his wrinkled face a tear trickled. 242 Cupe's Plea for Susie's Name " You shall be thrashed until your back is bloody as sure as the Lord — " He was again interrupted by the kneeling black, who held up his hand, the palm exposed. " See yo' de scar in de han' ob Cupe ? " " What is that to me ? " « Dah am no feah fo' de flesh in de heaht ob de man who b'lebes in de sign. Save de honah ob yoah own chile, Ma'se, an' den cut de back ob de nigger." " I care nothing for your signs. Go ! " " Gib de Susie chile her name," pleaded the negro j "the yinnecent gearl hab asked, 'Am I only nigger Susie ? ' Lis'n, Ma'se Manley, please lis'n. In de cole Canerdy Ian' Susie libed wid Cupe an' Dinah, who take her out ob Kalmuck. De yeahs come an' go, an' et wah cole near 'bout all de time. Cupe work in de day an' Dinah stay wid Susie, an' no ha'm come t' any ob dem — but et wah not like libin' in de ole cabin in Kain- tuck. Cupe come home one night, an' Dinah say: » Susie ax a quistion t'-day.' ' An' yo' ansah et, Dinah? ' * No.' t What wah de quistion ? ' * She say, " In de school I sit in de seat wid Mary Jones, an' in de uddah seat sit An'e Moo'e, an' in de nex' seat sit Lucy SmifF." « E'zac'ly." I ansah. » An' den I tu'n de subject by sayin' : " De teachah am a kind man ef he do weah a coa'se, woman-like dress an' a string ob beads." She say : " Yes ; but he ax my name ag'in, an' I tole him, » Susie.' * Susie what ? ' » Jes Susie.' An' den he say : * Tole de fo'ks yo' lib wid t' sen' de uddah name t'-mor- rah, an' tole 'em I '11 call t' see 'em soon.' Am I only Susie, Aunt Dinah ? " she ax, an' a tear come into her eye.' " * Dinah,' say Cupe, <- Dinah, when de mahn'n comes back we'll start t' ole Kaintuck, back fo' de name ob de 243 uv i H ',1 Stringtown on the Pike chile.' An' heah we am, Ma'se Manley. Dah am nuffin moah' t' say." No reply was made by the man, but his anger seemed to have been somewhat soothed. After an interval Cupe continued : " Dah wah bad signs on de way back an' dah hab be'n ebil omen sense de good ole Ian* wah reached, but heah de chile am at las' in de home ob her pap. Look up, Susie." The child raised her face, and gazed into that of the white man. "She doan ax fo' money, she doan ax fo' Ian', or dresses, er rings. She doan ax fo' nuffin money kin brung, er fo' what doan b'long t' her; de yinnecent chile ax fo' de name she am 'titled to an' ax et ob de big, rich man who tu'ned a lone baby out into de worl' outen a name. De debbil nebbah did nuffin wussah." You insulting scoundrel — " Cupe an' Dinah lub de gea/1 an' lub de Ian' ob Kaintuck bettah dan all de worl' b'side. But fo' de good ob de chile, ef yo' 'II take her into de house an' open yoah heaht t' de yinnecent orfin, an' gib her de name she need an' yo' owe t' her, we two ole niggers '11 tu'n back to de cole Canerdy Ian' an' nebbah look on her face ag'in. Please, Ma'se Manley, an' de Lawd '11 bress yo' in de day ob jubilee." Mr. Manley pointed to the door. « Fo' de lub ob yoah chile, yoah own chile, Ma'se ? " Still he pointed to the door. « Go ! " The old man arose. Dinah for the first time moved to the front; she stood to the right of Mr. Manley, Cupe to his left. " Will yo' damn yoah own chile by stealin' her name 'way ? Bettah steal her money er cut her froat." Mr. Manlev raised his clenched fist. " Dc* (( (( ley of 244 I Cupe's Plea for Susie's Name nigger, you lie, you lie ! " The negroes sprang forward simultaneously. Cupe wrapped his long arms around Manley, holding him tightly. Dinah jerked forth a strong strap, and before the prisoner realised what they were about lashed his ankles together, while with another strap she bound his arms close to his side. The move- ments of the actors were unexpected, the strength dis- played was unlooked for, the expertness with which they did their work amazing. The prisoner became a pris- oner without realising the fact until he was bound, and then he instantly regained his natural calmness. " You '11 be flogged in the morning until your back is raw, Cupe," he quietly said. But Cupe before replying set the helpless man in his easy-chair, then said : « De lash am not so painful es de brand ob de fiah. C'ipe kin stan' dem bof. Ma'se, de Lawd knows Cupe lubs yo' yit, but he lubs de Susie gearl moah. Yc' hab done wrong t' yo'selb, Ma'se, an' yo' hab done wrong t' Susie, yoah own chile." " I have not, Cupe. The Lord knows — " Cupe again interrupted him. "Two times befo' yo' call on de Lawd. wan' t' lebe de mattah ob de trufF ob yoah de Lawd ? " "The Lord witness wronging that child." " De Lawd mus' be 'zact numbah ob times right. De Lawd shall Do yo' words t' that I have had no part m de witness; yo' hab called de on de one who kin prube de be de jedge." Then slowly, earnestly, as if uttering a sacred command, he said : " Brung de o'deal bean, Dinah, brung bof de o'deal bean." 245 Ill I i \\\\ CHAPTER XL THE FEARFUL AFRICAN ORDEAL TEST OOMETHING in the tone of the old man startled *^ the prisoner. A chill crept over him. Brought up as he had been with the negroes, he realised that unless the intrudei-s had been reckless of personal danger or sure of the success of their undertaking they would not have been so rash as to commit such an outrage on a Kentucky gentleman. It might mean death to them. For the first time in his life Mr. Manley felt the sensation of fear. Too well did he realise the extent to which a fanatical fatalist, such as he knew Cupe to be would carry his measures, did he believe it a duty im- posed by supernatural power, " De bean, Dinah, gib me de bean." Unbuttoning the bosom of her dress, the woman drew forth a leather bag. Cupe opened it by means of a draw-stnng and poured into his palm three kidney- shaped beans, each about half an inch in diameter and two mches long, which he held before the prisoner. " Ma'se, '* Cupe had be'n bohn in de hot Afriky Ian' he 'd hab be'n a king. Dis is de bean my gran'dad. King ob de Gol-coas' ob Afriky, brought t' America. Et wah raised on a sacred vine dat only kings might grow.^ No uddah man wah 'lowed t' touch de precious bean.^' He reverently raised one of the nuts between the tip of his forefinger and his thumb j " Et am de sacred o'deal nut^' he said in an undertone. 246 l!:L The Fearful African Ordeal Test ^ « Et kin tole ef a man am lyin'. Ef a man am S pected ob killin' anuddah man de o'deal nut kin prube de fac'. Ef a man am s'pected ob hoodoo work, de o'deal bean km show ef he be a hoodoo man. De woman what act de witch kin fool de doctah an' her husban' but she kin not fool de o'deal bean. De o'deal bean am Crod's bean, an' only de son ob a king kin make de o'deal test. Cupe am de son ob a king." ' "God Almighty, Cupe," cried Manley, "you are carrymg your superstition too far ! " "De Lawd am goin' t' prube ef yo' hab be'n tellin' de trufF 'bout de Susie chile." "That devilish bean has no power; it is senseless." " De o'deal nut kin do no ha'm to de yinnecent, but et am suah defFt' de guilty man. Yo, need hab no feah ef yo' hab tole de truff, but de man who take de o'deal test had bettah say his prayers ef de he am on his lips." He turned to the woman : « Make de drink, Dinah j " and Cupe handed her one of the beans. 1 This is according to the custom of the natives at the mouth of the S-ln 'r '■'^"' ^f"^.^- . But instead of a painless death the suspected person (or rather victim) always perished miserably, suffering most intensely. In this connection the following by W F. DanieU E o ZuZvT '^ ?1 ^'^'^'''^' '■" '^^ ^^•"'-^•^ New Phifo ophl2i Journal, Vol 40 ,846. pp. 313-327 (p. 3,8), is of interest: ' e mansion :her days. bean and aid water nbers still owly an«' •ring the us passes tion, and r such as last the Iding the tumbler, he tea to leep and open, is in his i yo' so ocasion. >ctra yo' )e word ; o'deal ob de of the iffyoah s man j Lawd. he hab Drink, The Fearful African Ordeal Test (I Cupe, do you want to murder me? Dinah, when 1 was a child you held me on your knee, vou have told me stones by the cabin fire, you have dressed me in the morning, watched over me during the day, and put me into bed at night. Dinah, am I not the orphan child you raised ? " " Cupe am de son ob a king." " Dinah, I gave you money to buy tombstones for your children." « Dc sacred o'deal comes from God, cussed be de pusson who bre'k de cha'm." The man turned an imploring look on Cupe, who answered : « De o'deal bean am ha'mless t' de vin- necent." ^ " Don't poison me, Cupe ; I ain't a dog. Shoot me. A man should not die by poison." The negro shook his head. The prisoner made one last appeal. " My children, my two girls," continued Mr. Manlev "For their sakes." '^' " Dah am free gearls." The man shook his head. Cupe pointed to the sleeping child. "No." " God help yo' Ma'sc. Down wid de o'deal." There was no hope now; that no had steeled the negro's h^^a. By a method that must have been taught the mixtr of the ordeal by one who was expert at forc- ing a liq. d doivn the throat of a struggling person, Cupe and Dinah forced the prisoner to drain the strange potion to the dregs. Not a drop was spilled. Then Dinah v/ent to the kitchen, washed the glass and pan, removed every evidence of disorder made by herself, and re- turned to find Cupe still facing the new verv fri^h^.n-d man. •' ° 249 1)1 fw Stringtown on the Pike "Cupe," he said, "I feel strangely. There is a « De o'deal am ha'mless t' de yinnecent." a-S ^7u ^ ^"""^ "°'^'"S about the mother of the gin. 1 have never seen the girl before " SFt T""'" "^° "'''^ '^^ ^'"'^ '" 'h^-- ^rms say dat yo dnbe her out mto de night. She wrote et all down an she W t' da. pap.h befo' de Stringtown jestirob "My daughters!" moaned the man, who now real- ;sed u ly h. portion poison in h.s blood, disgrace! clthght^^rh^g^o':^^^" '-' '° '-' '''' p^p- « Et hab be'n read by de Stringtown clerk." The man's mind wandered ; the deadly African ordeal was burnmg out his nerve power. "Save me, Cupe, save the honour of my children » he .mplored « In the drawer of that secretary you will ni.d diamonds and pearls." ^ Cupe shook his head. Too well did he know the symptoms of that fearful ordeal, from which no man ever recovered. All who drank that potion were guilty. De jewels doan all b'long t' Susie " don'J'''' '^"^ '"'^' ^"'" '^^' P'P''' You mean to doubly murder me, Cupe ? " " De Lawd am yoah jedge, not Cupe." breath came spasmodically, his skin turned ashen white. Cjod help me. God save my children I " No sign of sympathy was exhibited by the witnesses LI'a u^^^' ^''"^'"§ ^y ^^' «'d^' ^hey coldly watched his spasmodic struggles until the life of the miserable man went out. 250 The Fearful African Ordeal Test " Dinah," said Cupe, « de Lawd hab be'n de jedge. Bressed be de name ob de Lawd ! " In the grey of morning the merry frolickers returned. In the cheerful sitting-room Mr. Manley sat in his easy- chair, his head bowed on his folded arms that rested on the stand before him. In his hand, between the fore- finger and the thumb, was the ashened stump of a cigar. The lamp burned dimly, an open book lay face down on the table, beside it stood a d«»-anter and a glass. The doctor came. «D was instantaneous. A pamless touch at the heart, a drooping of the head; peaceable as an infant's sleep, came his last call." The preacher came. " A good man has passed away, his name honoured throughout the land that knew him His every act was that of righteousness ; never did the poor or wronged appeal to him in vain. The soul of honour, his course on earth was a just one. Typical of smcerity, his eveiy act is clear to the world, his record is open to the inspection of whomsoever will Peaceably, as death should come to one who stands ever ready to die, did death come here. Touched by the kindly finger of God, this upright man went contentedly to his final home in the bright beyond." 251 Is I j > i' 1 CHAPTER XL! THE STRINGTOWN SCHOOL ni"To 7"^'' '"^ '""•'"g "f "•='"- noon recess Boys and g.rls together in struggline dis- order crowded through the door into the rofm I„ , few n,omen,s the noisy group had been distHbut;d and were .re"I the?", ''7T^"''^°*=^ '" ">= '---"" caedle H . ""' ''">■• P"''^'™ D^ke had called the class m htstory to the recitation bench and lud even aslted a question of the head student, when the proceedings were interrupted by a Itnock Every head in the room was raised, each pair of eves were fixed on the entrance. uOpe„' the d'^ , S Jmy Drew, came the order from the teacher, and I spra27 do the honours of the occasion. Before me stood fir Nordman, the old gentleman who lived on the Strinr .own p,ke south of the village. With a nod he pa sS n-e by and ,n his genial manner reached out his hand o ftof ssor Drake. But I did not close the door, nei h r d.d I move m nor out. Close behind him, and now fecmg me, stood a boy about my own age. Our "Z met, the devil could no. have leered more wkkl than d,d he as his eye caught mine. His turned up nose grew more pointed, his thin red lips drew "Lhth and stretched over his gums until I saw impre Ions stant: "SsTr '^ i,",7''" '"""8" ".eir v^r; si Stance. His hat was held in hi« h.pA - u-.j . -•**'" — a iiuiiu as red 252 The Stringtown School as the foot of a cluck ; his mop of red hair glistened in the sunshine like oak leaves after a frosty spell in autumn — red as are the leaves of the autumn oak, red as IS no other shade of red. Then occurred an amazing thing; while yet I faced the boy h.s impish eyes flashed and created sensations in my mmd that words could not have done. " We two are enemies." Perhaps my own eyes answered his stare. Be this as It may, all the viciousness of my nature up- rose, and back into his face I leered as insolently as did he mto mme. His lips turned whiter still as he drew them more tightly over his closed teeth, and sure as truth can be written, his crimson ears wagged back and forth and mocked me. Then while yet they waved before my eyes, the scalp of his head began to creep backward ; ,t drew upon the crown until his elongated forehead reached near to his ear tips, after which the flexible skin flipped suddenly back and gyrated round and round, then back and forth, moving, as it did so that mop of hair, which, as the movements of the scalp ceased, rose up as do the bristles on p wild hog's back Never before had I seen such gymnastics ; never since nave 1 seen his equal. But an instant did it take for these things to come and pass. I alone saw him, and he alone saw my face for my form closed the jar of the door. We raised our hsts as by a signal, and then, just as the teacher's voice broke upon the air, we sprang at each other as do boys who hate each other. Boys fight with teeth and fists and finger nails and feet, and so did we, to the credit of the most vicious. Unmindful of blow or bruise, of bite or hnger clutch, we fought .n a manner worthy of those who fight in behalf of a goc.i cause, but neither ^^^4 nor bad cause had we for which to fight. It was simply 253 Stringtown on the Pike fight The bruises made by the stony pavement on wh,ch we rolled were unfelt, the blow 'o/theTst that "smashed" my nose and bloodied my face a ga mencs gave me no pain, the bite that left the pr .t of two sets of teeth on my arm did not concern me I bT Ses7o;"D:.':i7r rd'^^^"^-^ ^'- '-''' been di«.cult to s^ Thtth^f ;* e.r Z bL: pl^bld ill wi'l . h .. ^'^•* ^2:^"^^"' '" ^ tone that bespoke no mat . A ^^°\ Drake took another view of the matr ., A gross breach of discipline had been com- m,^J ,rA a stnct rule of the school broken. n « ..vere led inside, and then Prof. Drake chalked tvvo snvMl circles on the floor. Side by side each in hi« nng stood the Red-Headed Boy and myself, both defian each more vicious than before. My\lood Islcat' "ki::it'^ ^""^"^^ ^"' ^^"-"p^ ^'^- -d !^^r ::e cbse?the -3^ fi"g-»- The eye next me was b oodv ^^a"; °" :""" ''""' ''^' ^'^ ^^"^«^ed and Woody. A devihsh spunky pair, I say," added Mr Nordman, who now occupied a chair on .k beside Prof Drake R... T j ^^^ '■°"''"'" reply. ^^ indignant teacher made no "Samuel Drew," he spoke severely, "explain to m. the cause of this disgraceful affair " ^ ""^ explair'^ "° "^""- ^'^^^ -^ - " — " to ^ J Did this boy say anything to warrant you in striking " No, sir." " Did he strike you first ? " "No, sir." 254 The Stringtown School " Had he struck vou previously ' " " No, sir." " Did he give you reason to fig " Yes, sir." « What did he do f " " Nothing." ^^ Nothing! and yet gave you reason to fight him," saif' the teacher ironically. ' Yes, sir," I answered. Turning to the other boy, Mr. Drake asked : " Did Sammy say anything to you ? " "NuthinV " D\^ he strike you first ? " « No." «* Have you and Sammy fought before this time ? » "No." **Why 'id you fight?" "Fer nuthin'." The eyes of Drake dropped to the floor. As they did so, the lacerated ear of the Red-Headed Boy, the ear toward me, moved up and down, back and forth The young devil was mocking me again. I could not answer h.m in the same way, but I scraped a tuft of his hair from between my fingers, and as he eyed me, slyly I twirled It before his gaze. The war was still on. "It will do no good to flog these boys," said Mr. Nordman, who it could be seen was not disturbed over the combat. "I am not in favour of physical punishment," an- swered the professo,;. «I do not whip boys. Discipline, however, is necessary. I must punish them severely." " Professah," spoke Mr. Nordman, " will you permit me, sah, to make a su^^estion ? " " Certainly. I shall value it.*» 255 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I itt m Sf U£ 12.0 IL25 M 1.4 Ui& 1^1 1.6 6" -^ Hiotographic ^Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRHT WIBSTIR,N.Y. 14510 (716)172-4503 .V ^^-P-g about, for all eves wer. T T ^' ^^*^ °^ '^^^^e scholar. ^ "' ^^"^ "P*'" her -a new " '^our name, child ? " aslcerl Pr^r »^ with pen in hand was preDar7Hl 'u' ^"^^'^ ^'^'^ school record. It was 2/1 '"''' '^*^ "^'"^ °" ^he ^orallorStringtlr.rtt%riT^ knew her history, how she h.A 1 Stringtown two negroes did^ and returned ^'^^^P^^^ ^^cn the Canada ""'"'^ "6*'" with them from ** Susie," was the low answer. Vour othef name, please? " " I am only Susie." I who sat near caueht thr- fli.d, l eyes drooped. ^ ^""'^ °" h^*" <^heek as her Thln'^rr^t^rere"^^^^^ ^° ^V'^^^''- ^"-^-• forbore and motS her to be"'"' ''' ''''' '^^'^ ha::^^t^:it:t:trer -v^^^ ^^'^-^> -- town, but whom I h'^e X"' f "J '"•" '^""g" number among us. This chlw-randt rT!; ^° Susie ^"deserves to be treated with th. f "^f^ '' ness. She is my especial rhZ r . "*'"°** '^'"d" personal interest^ Whit no f '• '''^ ^^^ ^^^'^^^ -^ by me for or aeain^ .1 ^avount.sm can be shown i^nown that whofver ' f ^"'''^ '''" ^ ^'^^ « ^° be severest displIsre^Xr.^ "'" '"-^ -X an interest in her welfare K °'''^'" g""'^ take pleasant." Then lookm^ u ?^ ^^' school-days "My child take your t^itn T T"' ^^ -^' your seat at the desk with Jennie Man- 258 Susie's Introduction to School ley." Jennie Manley was the youngest daughter of the planter who had suddenly died one night a few months before. And so Susie came shrinkingly into the Stringtown school in the commencement of this session, the school I had dumbly attended all my school life, and to which, now came the Red-Headed Boy of Nordman. We three ivere at last together in the same room. The girls of our Stringtown school gave Susie a warm reception; they opened their hearts to the waif, and soon the wild child was made to (eel at home. Bright and cheerful, grateful for litt'e kindnesses, she made for herself a place in each heart, and Professor Drake had no need to ask further favours in her behalf. Not so warm was the reception the boys of our school gave " Red-Head." His advent, it is true, had been such as to merit their admiration, and his subsequent deport- ment was defiant enough to please any Kentucky-bred boy. But he made no friends. He came alone to school each morning, alone he left when study hours were over. During recess, if the weather was fair, he sat on the fence and whittled, taking no part in the games of the loysj if the weather was bad he sought a lone spot inside the room. His sarcastic face leered at all who approached him. Within a week no boy spoke to him, he in turn gave no word to others, and an occa- sional cat wail could be heard when his back was turned. But no other boy sought a direct quarrel. By common coiisent, it seemed, the field was left for us — we two who were conspicuous in that we never looked at each other and alone gave no taunt when accident brought us together; too deep was the hatred that down in our natures spoke from each to the other, rendering no taunt necessary. War had been declared when first we 259 1 1 H il ' t ri Stringtown on the Pike met, and it seemed evident that no peace couW between us until the fight had been 'fin shed "' And so the " Red-Head " no^.. "'"snea. he ,„. .„ look „ ,n„°tirl Zlhlt 7^ """ '" -y boy. A, I recall ^^^'^'^ ''^t'"'?"' T. W IT"'" ''? r "'""•• ^""l " ' '"'"^oTZ tion, had I not met him half way and strucJc ,1... ki would he have struck me I If ilXJZf I 7' .' '^'<»«' !>« the tall fence. Hgh to C' 'T^""'^'" "'*"<' - heels struck'a'nd ma^: d '^^e' ft" anT T"^"''"'" had such a iumo been mo J '°« J^arth. Never before yard-or ri^, I slT sl^Lfr S." ''^°°'- schoo -yard W*. u.iio l ^' '"*^ Stringtown orthe /oui fl'.; 't„ rnr;!^"""" " "•' f^« but wen. back .o his Post.Sedt ?::,": "r""!; I>is gaze again toward the south "* '"™"' object a sheet^f paper on a 'la^l~ ^"■'''"""' "«')• "■« ;S.«nge a-usemenfth rfortwdrri"' ' '"""' '"'■ True, but I speak of Kemuckv t ^J • ""^ ""^ ">"• M beei i„-het'^4^r.°"d', h'e^l^^^ .tTCan^rbrln '^'/'-^ ™' -P^^ /'o-ni;idep^to7hr-^.:rL?Sw^';ti- The Challenge of Red-Head revolver. Raising it, without aiming, he fired and waited the result. Several boys sprang to the mark; there was the bullet hole in the plank far above the wildest shot we had made. A cry of derision, a series of cat mews, a chorus of sarcastic jeers, rang upon the air. " Better git a rest," sneered one. " Fools ! " he said, " thet 's the mark ter shoot at. Ef yo' wah raised in the moun'ns, an' would shoot at a whole sheet ov papah, they 'd take yoah gun away an' drive yo' ofF. Thet 's the mark, I say — one bullet hole fer the centre an' five in a ring jest 'roun' et." As he spoke his arm was raised again, and as fast as the trigger could be pulled came five shots. Again we sprang to the distant mark, and there, in a close circle, equal dis- tances apart, was a ring of little holes. I recall the exact words he had used, « One bullet hole fer the cen- tre an' five in a ring jest 'roun' et." But, alas! our challenge resulted in dis? r to the expert marksman. No boy of the Stringtowj- school was permitted to carry a pistol. That weapon was positively prohibited by Professor Drake, who considered the carrying of a pistol by a boy to be sufficient cause for expulsion. We had been deeply absorbed in our sport, and as the hand that held the spent revolver dropped, the boy who held it was taken by the shoulder in the firm grasp of our teacher, who, unperceived by us, had from behind joined the group, every eye of which had been fixed on the mark. Red-Head was led away by his captor, while we who had been the cause of his arrest, but who had escaped, hung our heads. In a moment the bell callin" us to the room ran* and knowing that trouble was in the air, we sought our 263 1] t J ■ 1 I H i' Stringtown on the Pike places There sat the teacher; near him the empty re- volver lay on the table, and before him stood the captive ch. d awa.t.ng the outcome of the crime he had com- muted m thus breaking the strictest rule of our village Then spoke Professor Drake, addressing the culprit • weapons. Some years ago a boy was killed by his class- mate .„ this ver^ yard, and since that no pistol has been allowed m school. I must punish you severely, but b" fore domg so .t is but just that I should ask^^hy 1 have disgraced yourself by breaking this rule ? " "I ham't disgraced myself, an' I hain't hurt nobody." But you surely know that it is wrong to carry a weapon like this." '^ ^ " It ain't wrong fer me ter carry et " muni^y." "'''' "^^' '° ""^ ' ^'^^^^ '" ^ ^'^'"^^^ <=<>•"- et 's IZ^')' "^ ^°' ^"'^ ""y ''"""y^ y°' ^°"W "'t say et s wrong fer me ter carry a gun. Ef yo' hed been through what I hev, an' looked fer what 's com'n' vo' d carry one too." * ^ ° This was said half persuasively, half defiantly. The .hl°[ I ^""V^'""^ P'"""^'^* no appearance of shame bespread his face, no drooping glance. « I hed the gun m my pocket when I fought thet feller" (he pomted to me), u ^n' did n't use et. I don't intend ter tlTc '" in'""} \^' °"^ "" ^- ^^ -' -»>- the time comes I 'II need the gun awful bad, teachah." 1 ell me your story." I^Et's too long, an' don't consarn nobody but me." Tell me why it is right for you to carry a pis.ol. I command it. Tell me all." ^ ^ ^ 264 ke the empty re- >d the captive he had com- f our village the culprit: ry concealed by his class- tol has been rely, but be- isk why you ?" rt nobody." to carry a ilised com- ould n't say hed been m'n', yo' d >tly. The jarance of "I hed eller" (he intend ter when the ah." ut me." pis: j1. I ii CHAPTER XLIV red-head's story of the feud I'M from the mouii'ns, I am. I don't know jest now we'uns came ter live thar, an' et don't make no diff'r'nce. We always lived in the moun'ns ov East Kaintuck. Our house w'an't no great shakes, et jest hed two rooms an' a mud chimney. Thet's all. " Dad said, said he, one day when I wah a little thing, an' he pinted back over the hog-back hill b'hind the cabin — * Don't none ov yo' children cross the divide. Keep this side ov Bald Hill, fer thar's a feud' twixt Hol- combs and we-uns.' I can't remember when he fust said this, et war when I war too little ter remember, but he said et often. in' we never crost the hog-back hill, none ov us, fer dad said thet the feud war off till the Holcombs er we-uns broke et by cross'n' the divide. An' es we grew bigger, brother Jim an' me, mam kept us up in the story ov the feud. " * Ef et ever happens thet the feud es on ag'in,' sez she, * thar won't be no end ter et es long es thar es a Holcomb er a Nordman livin'.' She said et hed been one ov the bloodiest feuds ov the moun'ns, an' more 'n a dozen hed been killed on each side, an' she showed us the row ov Holcombs on one side ov the graveyard an' the row of we-uns on tother side. I axed her what the feud war 'bout, but she said, said she : * I don't jest re- member. Et b'gun befoah I come inter the family, but 265 It H Stringtown on the Pike • .f .h. feud begin, J'. ;:'. ^^^ ■^^J^''^ •-« «i' ""fo-h I Bald HU Zt7jZV^ T"'" "'"'" '•'' <" When bang Jen" a /u t h "bi™! ':: T °". "" "'" Heri. »K« k . tnicKet, an Jim droDoed " coa"n,t?aTrr 'e^r ^Ir '"" ^" h' s.id. "I ain't used .ME' an- 1 u""* '"'^'"''•" sfKak so 'long." ' " ""''" "« ''red t' his'"be:drbr « tvr'' v i?" •■ ■""• "• '-«< -dead. Alrba", Hr-oLfntfT""'- "' "• outjes, below ,o,her. I c!uU '"J " '"'"'?r' '" come near ter the plar. Z'Z- ' T^' "^ ''" ^ t- amu».c tome from, but thar 266 r ' 1 Red-Head*s Story of the Feud want no one thar. Jest then I loolrcd back, an' slippin' 'long the hillside, I saw a man stooped over tryin' ter keep the laurel thicket 'iwixt Jim an' hisself. He got 'twixt an' old stump an* Jim an* cocked his gun an* looked up. He war a monstrous tail man. Old Holcomb. He could see Jim a-layin' thar, but he didn't seem ter care fer him, an' I saw thet he war lookin' fer me. Lord, teachah, ef I hed only hed my gun then ! " But es I did n't, I jest laid low an' then slipped inter the briars, an' sneaked 'roun' the hill an' made fer home. " Mam an' dad an' little Sis war sittin' at the table eatin' supper when I stepped inter the door. » Whar '• Jim ? ' mam axed. " » Shot ! ' " Dad got up an' pinted ter Bald Hill. * Hev yo' boys crost the divide ? ' "»Ye8.' " » Es he dead ? ' " I jest put a finger on each side ov my head. ' Minic ball,' was all I said. * He 's lyin' jest over the hoe- back.' ^ " Dad turned ter the fireplace an' took down his big b'ar gun — the big b'ar gun — * I '11 bring Jim home. Yo* folks keep in the cabin till I come. Don't yo' go out.' " » The feud 's on ag'in,' war all mam said. But she blew the coals up an* commenced ter run bullets fer the big gun an' she set me ter cleanin* up the rifle an' revolvers. " But dad did n't come home till long after dark, an' he did n't come home then nuther. Sis an' I went ter sleep, but I guess mam did n't, fer 'bout daylight I war waked by a knock on the door, an' es I opened my eyes I saw she war dressed. She took down the ir'n bar an' let dad in j he hed Jim in his arms. * The feud 's on,' 26;^ if ! i 1 1| J I. HMJt ■ ! ! n III Stringtown on the Pike him through fhi'lne?- " ' '""« '"""' ^'" ' ""g"' Uon t know whether 't Je th^ ^u do but .„ tiver the winders clos " er Tee ' I" " clean an' then sneak in an' out thehn r ^""' watch an- sneat an> hu„. an- sntk Ve TiL aU "" dogs 'ceptin' one fice thet staverl in .», u °"^ fer they hedn-, sense 'norgK p' ^tT^hTannf' a dog war seen in the bushes ^ »„.lj • ^ ' '' One nigh, „,an, war shot Ly a LuTt '"" "\'"''^- the winder. Et war jest a lit," butT ''""^I" ter letligh, out an' a bullet in ShZ^^."' ^IIT^^ but ,he could n-t live long, an'she kZZ T^iZ'- Cjo on, mam, I '11 do et.' terTrnd,^"' '" "•' "" '"' '""' ««<• ^t must be figh't'eTl";''"'' ""^^ ■"' ""■"'" ">«■• I -id, -I-U I'.'m'' ■"' '"''?^/'' >""" '•"'' *"= ■'■"•n- ter help vo- ' .eft JIX ZTl' ^"■■■'- 'TO- aironly'o'nti befo. they;'"li:7„!:',X"; on^lnte """ °' ''" ter hev all the luck.' " ' "^^^ "" ' ^^P*^^' Here the teacher interrupted. « Why did n't you ^o 268 ^ ^ Red-Head's Story of the Feud for a doctor ? Perhaps your mother's wound might not have been necessarily fatal." "Doctor nuthin'. Thar wa'n't no doctor 'n fifteen miles ov our place j b'sides, ef I hed opened the door thet night I 'd hev got a ball too. Yo' don't know nuthin' 'bout the moun'ns an' the feuds, teachah." " You say that your father had been killed ? " «Yes; fergot ter mion et, but he hed been shot down bout a month befoah. Next mornin' I shut Sis in the cabin an' sneaked over ter Jones' an' axed him ter come an' bury mam ; an' I tell yo', teachah, things war monstrous quiet 'bout our place fer a time after thet bis hed I'arned ter keep still an' stay in the house. She war only 'bout three years old, but she hed seen some bad dahs, teachah, an' hed lots ov sense fer sech a little thing Jim war shot, dad war shot, an' mam war shot but thar wa'n't but one Holcomb left. An' it war Sis er me next ef I could n't git him first ! " For the second time the narrator stopped and drew his coarse sleeve slowly across his eyes. « Et makes me tired I says, ter talk so long, teachah, but I '11 git my wind an' be rested in a minit." Then he continued • I war too little ter use the big gun, an' hed ter trust ^ the ^stol er the light rifle, an et wa'n't fair now, fer 1 om Holcomb war the tallest man I ever seed, an' he shot with a Springfield musket. But when a feller 's in a feud, et don't make no difference 'bout the size. Et 's kill er git killed. I did what I promised mam I 'd do es best I could. I hed n't much chance, fer I hed ter aTe'fcr ."' >'' "'" ^"' "^^^' ''' ^^ -" ^'^^ an' 't wa'n' n ' '" u^ '" ^' ' ^"^ °" «°'--b. But mornin' .h ""'X'^'^J^' ^g''" "^e. I slipped out one tZ wa'i^tn?'' ''\'"' '°°^ ''' ^' --^ --'' fer thar wa n t a bite ov bread in the place, an' when I came 269 II ' I if 1 1 II \' I Stringtown on the Pike !n^n T ^7/ ''T '"''' ""'^^ °P*^"- W^<^» I Savv thet open door I feared et meant trouble. I crept inter the house the back way, an' thar in the open door, huggin' herhtte rag doll, sat Sissie. I could see the'heafLv he doll over her shoulder. The sun war shinin' bright n her face, her back war toward me, her little head leaned ag m the side ov the door, an' she looked es sweet es a pictur * Sis,' I said, * Sissie, yo' mussent sit m the doorj Tom Holcomb '11 git you. Sis.' But she did n t say nuthin'. * Guess she 's asleep,' I thought an slipped ter her side an' jumped at her an' cHed! ' Boo f Boo/' But she didn't move." The boy's head dropped again, his chest heaved con- vulsively Sob after sob broke the air. Suddenly con- rollmg himself, he defiantly turned toward us boys. "I 11 thrash the feller what laughs et me. I ain't a coward ef I did cry." "My child," said the teacher, as he brushed away a suddenly as to unnerve him too, "no one blames you for crying. I condemn myself for leading you to tell .n public this pathetic stoiy of your life. It is Jho rair>'"^'^'^-^'^---'^--coming.1: sechlch" T""'"'^^^' ^""y^ " '' ^^^ ^ «hame ter shoot ^ch a chunk ov lead through sech a little bit ov a girl. 1 het bullet war big 'nuugh ter kill a b'ar. But I '11 git even with Holcomb yit." ^ « I meant that it is a shame that I let you tell this sorrowful stoiy here." "Et ain't done yet, teachah. The little thing hed opened the door ter sit in the sunshine, an' a bullet the size ov your thumb hed ploughed through her chest an' out her back. I picked her up an' laid her on the bed, 270 ..«» Red-Head's Story of the Feud ^r'/r^JT?'' '"'u°''' '""''^'^ '"' P"* ^ f<=^ things inter boii ?n' T' ^ r' "^^^""y wrapped up the little bloody doll, an' put thet on top. I hain't got nuthin' else now ter mind me ov Sissie but thet doll. I barred the front door an' slipped out the back way, out an' over the spur ter Jones's house. I took my pistol- thet 's the very pistol " (he pointed to the weapon on the table) an left the guns an' everything else. «*Et ain't fair,' I said ter Jones; * Holcomb's too big fer me.' "* Goin' ter run away ? ' said Jones. " No ; goin' ter go away ter grow bigger. Tell Tom the f?re" '^ ^' '^'"'' """ ^ '" ^' '" Stringtown on " ' An' ef he don't foller yo' ? ' T ,n u^^? ^ '"" ^'S '"^"g'' ^^' h^"^Je a Springfield gun I 11 be back ag'in. Tell him the feud 's on till one er the other ov us es shot.' "'An' Sissie! air yo' goin' ter leave Sissie?'" said Jones. « » She don't need me no longer. Yo '11 find her on the bed m the cabin. Bury her in the row, 'longside ov mam. I shan't go ter the buryin', fo' I can't run no risk ov old Holcomb's gun.' « Thet 's all, teachah." Drawing the child to his side, Professor Drake gently smoothed the unkempt red hair, parting it with his hngers in the place a part should be, but seldom before had been seen. Then he spoke : " And you expect Mr. Holcomb to follow you to Stringtown ? " ^ « I looks fer him every minit, an' I hev ter watch sharp. Thar ain't no other head like mine, an' ^« soon es he sots eyes on et he '11 draw his gun. Thet 's why 271 m I Stringtown on the Pike I sits on the fence-post watchin' the pike ; ef I cotch sight ov him first, et '11 help me powerful much." " If he observes you before you see him ? " " Holcomb's a dead shot, teachah, an' my head 's a good mark. Thar ain't much chance. Teachah," he continued, « please give me back my pistol an' give me leave ter carryr et, fer I needs et bad. I hain't no other friend this side ov the graveyard in the moun'ns. Ef I fights any ov these 'ere boys I '11 use my fists er a stick er a stone. I '11 bite an' scratch, like the girls do, I II pull hair like thet feller " (he pointed to me). « I promise thet I 'll not use a gun lessen Holcomb comes. Ef he does, et '11 mean the endin' of the feud one way er tother, an' ef I hain't no gun et '11 be his way sure. 1 m a bad boy, teachah, es yo' folks looks et me, but yo' nain't seed things es I 've seed 'em. Yo' wa'n't raised in the moun'ns, an' none ov yo' hain't no feud ter fight out. Please give me back my gun. I 'U jest set on the fence and won't bother nobody." Deeply moved by Red-Head's dramatic story. Prof. Drake stood for some moments in silent meditation. "I perceive there comes a time," he mournfully said to himself, "when duty demands- that wrong be con- tinued in behalf of wrong that has been established. Alas, the law under which these people live makes that which we call wrong into what they call right ' It is wrong for me to allow this boy to carry a pistol with murder in his heart, and surely that is the object. But a greater wrong it would be to render him defenseless, for he might in that condition encounter his enemy, the misguided armed man, who would shoot him on sight " Then taking .he revolver from the table, the teacher handed it to the pleading boy. « Child," he gently said, "as a special privilege, I give you permission to 272 Red-Head's Story of the Feud carry this weapon, which you need to defend your life, but I shall speak to Mr. Nordman concerning this affair] and endeavour to reach and disarm Mr. Holcomb, or at least prevail on him to keep away from Stringtown." "Nordman knows all 'bout it, and he takes my part. But jo' needn't try t' stop Holcomb. He knows every hole in the moun'ns, an' he don't intend t' quit 'till the feud's fought t' the end. No one kin edge in. It's him an' me fer et, teachah." i8 VI CHAPTER XLV " TELL ME, JENNIE, TELL ME WHAT IT IS " nPHE fall session passed, the holidays came and away The evil predictions concerning us three chil- dren had passed from my mind, and no longer disturbed over the Red-Head Boy, I looked forward to the coming autumn, when I hoped that my life in the Stringtowf proached, Susie ,n loving friendship with all the eirls my antagonist without a friend among the boys. Well do I rem-mber that fateful last morning. That morning of which the date is lost and need not be revived, for the stoiy I have to relate does no credit to any day, the g.rls of the Stringtown school were I perceived as I sat in place before school opened, in sub- duedexc.ten.ent. Whispering groups in earnest con- versation .nd,cated that something of importance had occurred to disturb them. When a boy chanced o approach the lips would cease to move, but would be- gin to buzz again on his departure, indicating that the subject-matter was fit only for girls to hear. I sat alone •n my place, and so did Red-Head. We two boys had troubles of our own. Red-Head and I had met aeain had « mouthed " each other, had parted to awaU by' a^' pointment the ending of the session now near at hand knew full wen that Professor Drake would not over-' look a second fight, and my antagonist knew that Mr. 274 "Tell me, Jennie, what it is" Nordman had promised that he should be obedient and break no rules. He sulked in his place, scowling at whomsoever chanced to meet his gaze, while I sat glumly in my place meditating over the coming fight. The prediction of the old negro Cupe sprang to my mind ; I looked across the room to the girls. Susie was not in her place. Then it was that I first chanced to observe the whispering group with heads close pressed together, and as the moments passed I sat silently eyeing them, studying their movements, and at last I concerned myself enough to wonder what could have occurred to create such subdued excitement in their ranks. The door opened, and Susie tripped into the room. I watched her as she passed down the open space before the door, across and past the spot where once the teacher had marked two circles on the floor for Red-Head and me to stand in, until she reached a group of girls who, on opposing seats, sat with heads together, leaning across the aisles. These girls shrank back, gazing intently into her face as she drew near, but made no ofFer to return the pleasant greeting. A cold stare was their response, and beneath it the smile on Susie's face disappeared. She was only a child, but no words were necessary to tell to her the story carried by those unfeeling eyes and shnnkwig forms. She passed along with downcast face, her satchel cf books hanging upon her arm. From the cheek toward me the blood had fled, leaving a surface white as dough; I saw those roses fade as I have some- times seen a beautifully tinted evening cloud deaden and turn to leaden hue. Down the aisle toward her own desk passed the child while on either side, peering at her as girls who have the devil in their hearts only can, sat those Stringtown girls. But Susie looked neither to the right nor to the left, although it could be seen that she 275 Stringtown on the Pike Jennie Mani*" V^"'" ''°'"^"^ *=^"- "^^ ^"'^'"«^-. Jennie Manley, the youngest daughter of the « upright " Mr. Manley, sat in her place; but as Susie approached she too drew away as though the touch of the garment of the approaching girl might be unclean. The child stopped short, the satchel of books slipped from her nerveless arm and fell upon the floor. Pleadingly she raised her clasped hands, then dropped into her seaf and -Pbnngly turned her pallid face upon her deskmate. Her form seemed to draw into itself as does the delicate, shnnkmg sensitive plant when touched by a rough hand Her words came low and tremulous, but I caught them : 1 ell me, Jennie ! tell me what it is ' " For reply the deskmate drew back again. Then came whispers from about; the busy tongues of String- town girls were loosed. Slowly the kneeling child arose, • and turned back toward the door; she did not stop to h^rfonf n . "" "f ^'^ ' '""'y ^PP'^ '°-hed'by her foot rolled across the floor to the rostrum, but she heeded it not The whispers grew louder as she passed the m!^.';^ Tt ""''^ "^'^' ^"^ ^'^^^ '' '"^^ r '-ched the middle of the open space before the door, one tongue, bolder and more vicious than the others, sang in sarcastic monotone « Only Susie, Ni,,er Susie, Nijr Susie r' Had the girl been instantly petrified she could not have stopped more suddenly. A pallor came over her tace. Her beseeching eyes wandered about from one to another as if appealing for help from a sympathetic soul, but no response other than a malicous stare met J^^^' ^"^ ^''^ turned again toward the door. floor and threw his left arm about the shrinking girl, RaLT , K'?i'°"^"^^"^^y"P«" ^'^ shoulder! Raising his clenched fist, he shook it viciously at the 2;6 "Tell me, Jennie, what it is" group of girls, and shouted : " I kin thrash the brother ov the girl who said them words ter this un ! " Giving them no time to reply, he continued : " I kin thrash any boy in school ov my size ! I 'm a bad boy from the Kaintuck moun'ns, but I ain't bad 'nough ter be a brother ter sech a set es you-uns ! I 'm awful mean an' bad ! I kin knock the eyes out ov a pig an' watch et stumble 'bout ; I kin pull the legs off ov a frog an' watch et try ter hop ; I kin break the wings ov a bird an' watch et flutter— them 's the things I kin do! Whatever 's bad es fun fer me! I kin do anything mean thet any other boy ever did, but I ain't mean er bad 'nough ter be a brother ter sech a set es you-uns ! Bring on yer brothers, I says, bring 'em one at a time er two at a clip, an' I '11 thrash the lot ! I'll fight with fist er teeth er club er stone er gun ! I 'm Nordman's Red-Head Boy, I am — thet's what yo' calls me, an' thet's me, an' I 'm a devilish bad un ! I 've killed my man too up in the moun'ns, an' I '11 kill another er get shot myself." He stood defiant, vicious, malignant. The skin on his head began to wabble, as if making sport of his hearers ; the ears moved back and forth again as they did the day I faced him ; and I saw, too, that he and Susie stood together on the spot where he and I had once stood. But my admiration for him now supplanted my hatred. I sprang from my place and moved toward the two children, holding out my hand. « Let me be with you and Susie," I said, "we three together. Let us be friends." "Back," he cried, « er I'll hit yo' ! I want no friend in Stringtown ! I hate yo' all, I hate everbody on earth. I hate =' <^ie, too, 'cause she 's been born, but I takes up fer ...r now not 'cau.c I cares fer her, but 'cause yo' all hev thrown her down." 277 Stringtown on the Pike " I 'U hit yo' rf yo> don't go back ! Ui„., „„ frj^j In a very different tone he spoke now to Susie. " We ov, an 1 hain't never hed none at all. You >re • on"v Sus,e,' an' I 'm only Red Head. I '11 ,ake yo' home "er ever ag .n. He looked at the girls and spoke in an earnest tone and with language such as I couW no^ have expected him to use. " Girls, yo' air m«ner 'n p.son an- sneakiner >n snakes. This'u'n hain't dZyo" no ham,, an' she ain't ter blame fer the deviltry ov fhe »oun Js. I kn Jw-^^ ^:. «- a:": T^^Tfi ';: now I ukes back what I promised the teachah 'bout shootm .n ,h,s school. I'll shoot the brother ov the one ^'i:L° "'" 7"". -other whisper 'gainst thil one Ef she ^n , no brother I 'II shoot her dtd, an' ef sheham't no dad" -he stopped _« I '11 take et out ov her own hide, but I'll „« kill her. Don't fe2 what I says, fer I means et. "^" thu'^r'' ^""'"J^' continued, "we hev no use fer rt.« pkce now. Yo' an' me air alone i.n the wor d Yo a,r Sus,e nobody an' I am nobody, the Red-Head " Turnmg to me, he added : " Yo' wanis ter shake hinds I'll 1T°' ""; 1^"' "° '""''' '"' 'ft" '"' fight I U meet yo m Indian Hollah where yo' said yo'd be the mornm' after school shets up, but [bar ain'f ter be no shakm' ov hands." Never again did cither he or she enter the ' °P^" "souths and replaced them not less carefully. Then I descended NextT'lin Jy ""T'^ ^^'^ ' ^^^ ^head of time. Next I Imgered on the edge of the pond that had been made by damming the ravine that crossed the back pasture. Muskrat holes were in abundance along the bank, and as I stood quietly, a head rose in the water near my feet, then disappeared as the timid creature caught sight of my intruding form. ..n^'T' '"u""^ *''"''.''"' "°' ^^'^ ^g^'"^^ »he inno- cent. More than one rabbit hopped from cover and disappeared in the bushes as my foot crossed the briar patch beyond the pasture, but no sfone followed. From the t,p or a fence post on the .ght a male partridge 279 Stringtown on the Pike sang « Bob White ! " to his nesting mate hidden near by in the grass, and from the fence on my left came the answering cry of another partridge. Both birds were smgmg undisturbed when I passed from sight. Instinc- I suppose led me to thrust a long pole into a hollow log in the thick woods that lay just beyond the briar patch and to my surprise out came a snarling fuzzy opossum that when touched gently by the stick turned on its lips and laughed silently. I moved onward, leaving the gr.nn.ng beast unharmed. Through these woods and then over the h.ll I passed, into the meadow, over the next ndge and dovv.i its side into Indian Hollow. As I turned the top of the last ridge I caught sight of a Jis- tant form, that of a boy about my own size, who, mounting the opposing ridge, directed his steps down the slope toward the point I was approaching. It was Ked-Head, my expected antagonist, who true to his agreement, met me in the ravine where tradition said rested the dead Indians. Not a word did either of us say as we slowly neared each other ; there was no necess.ty for words, we knew our e. >:r T wore a roundabout jacket, v. hich, just before we m«t, " jerked off and threw upon the ground. Buc lie, the vicious m fu''T'/"^"' ^""^^'^ ^''' ^""^ ^"°^^ his chest, lifted h.s head and made no aggressive movement. I ra.sed my fists and prepared for the tussle, but instead of a hke movement, he said : « Hit me in the face : hit A'or did 1 r yet make any ofFensive motion, neither did tL ru^^u""' ^'"'''^^- "H't'"e,Isays! Take on thi head ! "' '""''' '" " '"'^ ^'"''^ " ^''' '"^ I gazed at him in amazement, but made no movement. 280 • ' I The Beginning of Love I was so near that as he spoke I felt his warm breath in my face. "I'm a fool an' yo're afeard ! " he said. "Ef yo' war m my place an' me in yourn I 'd beat yo' down befoah a minit passed. I tell yo' I want tcr be beat in the face, I want tcr be knocked down, an' y re afeard ter do et." " I did n't come here to beat a boy with fold.-d arms ; I came to fight." « Yo' can't fight me. Not because I don't want ter fight, fer I do, but because I 've been a fool " " Why ? " "I promised not ter fight yo', but I didn't promise not ter show yo' thet I 'm not afeard of bein' hurt I '11 not strike back, but I dare yo' ter beat my head witi the club. I wants 'it git paid fer bein' a fool. I '11 not fimch. Hit me, I say." « I shall not do it. Who made you promise not to fight me ? " His eyes snapped. " Nobody made me, I don't alK w no one ter make me do nuthin'. I jest promised not tcr fight yo', an' I 'II do what I promised." " Whom did you promise ? " " Susie." He stood before me with folded arms, this wild moun- tain boy my mortal enemy. "Susie begged me not ter fight yo, an' I promised. I'm a fool, but not a coward." " Why did she beg this of you ? " « I don't know an' I don't care. She says thet I didn t do yo' fair when yo' ofFered ter stand by me in school. She 's a girl, an' she cried when I told her thet 1 intended ter thrash yo' ter-day, an' I promised not ter do et i but I hate yo' like sin, an' yo'" hate me, an' I 281 know me." et. Stringtown on the Pike We'll come tergether some day, yo' an' " You need n't talk so sure about whipping me," I replied. "You would have had to work before you thrashed me. I don't thank Susie for interfering any more th?n you do," I continued, « but if you can't fight me now I '11 not hit you now." He made a grimace at me and turned to depart. Disdain vyas in his eye, hatred was m his heart, but the wild beast had found his master in a little girl. I stood until l^e had passed over the hill j not once did he glance back; then as his head disappeared beneath its summit I sank upon the grass. A double sensation came over me; regret that the boy had met Susie was commingled with elation in the thought that she had endeavoured to prevent him from hurting me. Why should I have experienced either sensation? But I did, and my mental argument was carried further. "Might not I have hurt him ? " came next in the thought line j « and might not her care have been for him ? " Strange sensation that, the beginning of love ' I had previously thought of the girl as I would of any other person; until now, only as I would of any other child • but when my antagonist told me of her care for one of us two, and said that she extracted from him the promise not to fight, I hated him the more for that fact. I hated him now, strangely enough, because of Susie — the g,rl I had not seen for weeks, never in my life had tried to meet, and who had not even entered my thoughts since last we met. It seems almost like romance to say that love, such as sprang into my heart when my antagonist named that girl, could have had place in the soul of a child of my 282 The Beginning of Love age. When I came down that hillside to fight my an- tagonist I had no thought of love other than for my mother, and he whom I sought was but an enemy. When I passed back again along that same grassy slope he was not only an enemy but a rival, and I realised that I was in love with the outcast girl of Stringtown. 283 CHAPTER XLVII THE VOICE OF THE NIGHT 'T^HE war was long since over, peace had come to all •■■ the land, i No armed men tramped our pike. The Blue and Grey had joined hands never to unclasp them. Persistently since Mose the Jew gave us that money had I begged to be permitted to leave the Stringtown school, but my mother shrank from the parting; and so I returned time and again to my accustomed place in the front row among the little boys. But finally a marvellous change came upon me, and, no longer a dumb child, I moved toward the advanced class of Stringtown. Possibly my previous dullness re- sulted from lack of expressive power, how else can one account for the sudden awakening of my intellect ? Can brain cells store up impressions that lie temporarily be- yond the will, but which are destined some day to open and become in an instant a fountain of stored knowledge ? Be this as it may, my mind opened to books, and lessons of the past came vividly before me. In one year I caught up with my old classmates in most studies, but never in all, for those twenty-six rules in Brown's gram- mar stood unlearned yet to shame me. My unexpected progress excited the admiration of the old professor, and at last he asked my mother to permit me to seek an education in the North. 284 The Voice of the Night When, therefore, my mother finally agreed, Professor Drake arranged for me to enter a preparatory institution in one of the Northern States ; and finally I left String- town, a passenger on the old stage-coach. Securely pinned in an inner pocket of my shirt rested the amount of money necessary for tuition, board and incidental school expenses, and in another pocket-book, an old timer that as a boy I had usually carried empty except- ing a few reference cards and clippings of newspapers, was enough money to pay for my railroad ticket and my meals. Ignorant of the ways of the world, I started out in the world for an education, not schooling alone ; for while education consists partly in book lore, it more largely comprehends wisdom gained outside of books. Astute old Professor Drake! Well did he recognise this fact. None knew better than he that so far as book study was concerned his Stringtown school offered ad- vantages sufficient to carry me several years further — yes, perhaps to the door of the University. I remember now that he once told mother in my presence that a boy should rub against others and become self-reliant; that he should conquer homesickness and learn to stand alone in the world, and that it is best, if he be possessed of good habits and strength of character, that he should experience these things before he becomes a man. « A child may retrieve himself in case he makes an error j a wise child is benefitted and profits by mis- takes. Give a boy a chance to use his mind, and then, if he errs, as he will, encourage him to correct the error and profit by the lesson." Prof. Drake had been entrusted with the secret of our new-found wealth, and he it was who spread the infor- mation concerning my prospective school plans, adroitly addmg that an unknown friend contributed the sgholar- 285 Stringtown on the Pike ship. Evidently he foresaw that busy neighbors would question aloud as to how the Widow Drew could afford to spend money enough to educate her son abroad : and .n order to quiet those « busybodies " he had assumed tne " responsibility of the occasion." But before I tell of things that occurred after I left Stringtown that autumn, in my round-about jacket, mv long, baggy trousers, my dress that from shoe to can pictured the crude country boy, it is my duty to relate the incidents that occurred the day before I left my home. That day I bade all my friends in Stringtown farewell Never since has parting from friend or home been to me so full of pathos. "Sammy," said the grocer as he thrust into mv pocket a present, that was already tied neatly, thus showing that he had thought of my departure, « don't forget Stringtown." And then he squeezed my hand until the fingers ached. As though I could ever forget my old home ! ^ Venerable Judge Elford held me long by the hand looking me full in the face. « Child, it has'been manJ years ..nce my boy Charley went from our village to a college in Ohio; he was about your age when he left Stringtown " Then his voice trembled, and he sai^ no more. I knew the story of his boy ; there was no need ror him to tell it. Nearing the home of Mr. Nordman, the old eentle man on the pike south of Stringtown, I first caught sight of a boy on the fence by the side of the front gate. It was Red-Head. I drew near, he gazed in- tently up the pike, toward the south, and gave me no recognition. I opened the gate and closed it. I could have touched him had I cared to do so, but neither of us gave the other the greeting of a glance. 286 le Pike lisy neighbors would r Drew could afFord ler son abroad ; and i " he had assumed ccurred after I left id-about jacket, my : fi"om shoe to cap my duty to relate 'ore I left my home, tringtown farewell, r home been to me le thrust into my tied neatly, thus departure, « don't queezed my hand could ever forget ong by the hand, it has been many 1 our village to a age when he left 1, and he said no here was no need I, the old gentle- n, I first caught iide of the front ir, he gazed in- ind gave me no sed it. I could S but neither of ce. &0' H K «> ^m Strt d-by m Q ^^ rS, H ^ -^ ■ ^ « « .5: ^H .k ty ^ ^1 Q 5 ^1 '<: ? fl >• • 1 II The Voice of th Night nJH" ^°" ''^ ^°«^ to-morrow P" said Mr. « Yes." "My hat, child; come with me" I h,n^«^ • ^ whom the South was dear sleeps on the otht sWe God grows the grass alike over each • the T^ A bloom no earlier j the roses' J-n,-' '""""Irops the one than over the othe' The 'V° '-*«'"- "^^ ^, The village clerk Mr WaT^'rlre: iV"-: h« side as he seated himself on ^ ben^h Air." h^ cha.r was long since whittled into W^\ H ' ' ;:^r tntiiitn^^r' -r- "- "" be happy ,ou mus! be concerned "°"'' '" '""" "■« '<> I looked at him curiouslv for tU^ conundrum, while he whS W XT "? ! my ch n rentlv with hi. i,„i. <■ i ' "* stroked the tips of his^th^mbtH fi 'f"^"' »"'' ""' "i* down'that td appeared on'"' '' '"""'''' " «■" "^ continued : ^'^ °" '"'' "PP" «Pi then he " An old bachelor is not cnnt't^t a c n.is«t. and deserves the pitpml^^L ^^ Stringtown on the Pike honest he won't deny it. It don't make any difFerence how he dresses, what he eats or drinks, he's only a human fragment, and if he don't say it openly he knows that it's true. Be a man, Sammy, ai.d when you fall in love, as you will, tell your sweetheart you love herj then, when you are able to support her, marry her and live contentedly and respectably." The lank clerk heaved a deep sigh, but I made no answer. We parted and that sigh sounds yet in my ears when I think of Mr. Wagner. So I went fr " Uncle Cupe IS nght. The httle one should be taken to its home » In a few moipents the slender form, still asleep was earned forth, its head resting on the shoulder oMhe negro. Before leaving the cabin, however, I lingered a second, a second longer than I would have done had he occupant been other than Susie ; just a second Ta'a^'I f."'^'^^ '^^^ ^°"^ •^^d it been any other f asked: " '"' '" "'"^' ^"^ as I dropped it " May I come again ? " SheZl^,r ''i '•" "'"'■•'''• " ■^■'■^ '' Kentucky." She took the w.ld sweet briar from her hair and handed II to me. th^Jh'^f ..*'""■• I""'" ' '"'■''• " ^''y I "»' >'s° have the other?;' and I pointed to the rose in her bosom. "That ,s for Red-Head _ perhaps," she replied. 300 t' CHAPTER L CUPE S THREAT CUPE was old when first I knew him, but he seemed no older and no more decrepit now than then. With the boy over his shoulder he took the lead that night, asking no help, and held it until the village was reached. He was very sullen. Every attempt on my part to engage him in conversation resulted in utter failure; he would not talk. So in communion with myself I followed at his heels. Before reaching the place where the negro should leave Stringtown we drew near the house of Mr. Wagner. Although it was late, a light shining through the window of the front room indicated that the village clerk had not yet retired. " Ma'se Sammy," broke in my companion, « Cupe hab a word t' say t' Ma'se Wagnah, an '11 be obleeged ef yo' '11 stop a minit an' heah de conbersashun." He turned into the little yard, knocked on the door, and together we were ushered into the room, where, as has been related, many years before he had stood with the heavy box of coin and the manuscript of Susie's mother. I was invited to seat myself, and did so, but Cupe remained standing. " Ma'se Wagnah," he said, "yo' min' de day in de yeah gone by when yo' come t' Cupe's cabin an' tole him how es de Co'ht had made yo' de guardyen oL de little Susie gearl ? " 301 Stringtown on the Pike " Yes, Cupe, very well." "Min' yo' de trouble de gearl yocasioned yo\ an' dat ttfVtV\" '°f ^^^^ "'' ^^"P^ ^'^ d^'-e come "She wah es full ob fun an' sunshine es a bee tree es Ob honey an' she keered nuffin 'bout no one but do e brack fo'ks She hab be'n like honey ebah sense. She wah a spntdy geavl, Ma'se Wagnah, a little ting, bu now she Stan' tall an' supple." ^ " Go on, Cupe." fier Zk""" "!' '^!!'^' ^r^ "^' '' ^'"g' '' ^^h J°"d like de fie lark, an when she dance', et wah keerless like wid her gahments But now she doan dance no moah befo' de cabin doah, an' when she sing, et am sof an' hum- min', like de tu'tle dov:." Again he stopped. « Go on," said Mr. Wagner. An when de pert chile use t' gaddah de flowahs in de spring she bunch 'em in her han' an' den put 'em in a g^ss Ob watah on de table 5 but now she doan bunch de flowahs no moah, she jes pick one er two wil' roses an stick em in her ha'r er in her busum. Et am a monstrous change, Ma'se Wagnah." Now his voice sunk very low « An' when de boys roam obah de Ian dey use t hunt m de woods an' skate an' swim in de pond an drink out ob de spring down by de milk offen at de cabin fo' a cup t' git a drink ob watah, er t' ax some fool quistion what doan mean nuffin, er t' act up one way er 'nuddah." He looked at me. «Mon- ^rous httle uxcuse et takes f bring 'em t' de cabin now. Two ob em come t'-night, an' Susie she lingah in her room t' fix up befo' she come out." « Well, Cupe, what must I do ? " 302 Cupe's Threat (( Et 's time de gearl lef de cabin ; Lawd knows dat Cupe an' Dinah lubs her moah 'n all de worl', but de gearl's place now es wid de white fo'ks. Take her back, Ma'se Wagnah j fo' de good ob de honey chile, take her back ! " " I understand, Cupe. You feel that she has grown beyond your care." " Et makes de nigger sad t' say et." " I Ml see Judge Elford and arrange at once for her future. She is a bright girl and should go away to school." « Min' yo' de readin' ob de papah her muddah wrote ? " « Yes." " She doan wan' t' go t' school, ner t' go t' any home t' live outen she hab de name she 'titled to." " That paper carries no evidence that the Court could use to give her the name of her father." " An' mus' she be * Nigger Susie ' always ? " " She will be only Susie until she marries." « Yo' know, Ma'se Wagnah, dat ole Ma'se Manley, who die so sudden, wah her fahdah. Yo' know he libed a monstrous good life heah es fo'ks b'lebed, but de kin'- heahted man died s'prisin' sudden. Had he lived longah, he might hab give' de chile de name she's 'titled to. Et's a pity he died so early." Mr. Wagner shook his head. " Ef Susie caint hab her name, de name ob de Man- ley gearls shall stan' disgrace'," said the earnest negro. "Ef de debbil es t' foller de deah chile, he'll stick his fingahs into de ha'r ob de uddah gearls too. Ef yo* caint gib Susie her name, Cupe '11 brung shame t' dem." "Beware, Cupe!" said the now disturbed man. " You intend to do right, but will surely accomplish mischief." 303 I ( ill Stringtown on the Pike « When Cupe went t' Canerdy, he went by de town what de writin' ob Susie's muddah tole 'bout. He stop t' see de man ole Aunt Sukey knowed, Aunt Sukey who saw Ma'se Manley wid de muddah ob Susie. Cupe paid de lawyers fo' gittin' all de fac's, he hab de swobn papahs, he hab de ev'dence ob de New Yo'k Co'ht es t' Ma'se Manley. Cupe doan mean no mischief, but ef de busie chile caint git her name, he'll raise de debbil w.d de name ob Manley." He turned to the door, but before going delivered this parting shot : « De New Yo k jedge said dat in New lo'k ef a man libed wid a woman ,n opert es e/ dey wah married, dey am married. IJe lawyer s common marriage, he called et. Dat efa chile wah bohn t' dem, et wah his chile an' titled t' his name an' his money too. Dat de deed wah fact ef de proof ob de deed wah suah. An' Cupe hab all de proof m brack writin', even t' de swarin' ob Aunt Sukey an' ob de Nev. Yo'k jedge. Ef Ma'se Manley hab any chile titled t' his name, et am Susie." "For God's sake, keep your mouth shut, Cupe' I shall consult Judge Elford at once about this matter " " Bettah yo' let no grass grow undah yoah feet, Ma'se Wagnah, fo Cupe am gittin' monstrous ole, an' doan tend t die an' lebe de gearl widout de name she 's titled to." "Mr. Wagner," I said, « this is all strange to me I catch part of Cupe's meaning, but much of it is obscure. St.ll I take It that Mr. Manley, who died by a paralytic stroke, was the father of Susie." « Yes, she is his child. He was followed to Ken- ' tucky by the girl's mother, who left the baby in charge of Cupe s master, Mr. Hardman, the half-brother of Mr. Manley. ^ Do not, however, speak of the fact you have learned, t..e secret is to be well kept if Susie is to be 304 Cupe's Threat protected. A simple statement of fact cannot serve her interests, while it can bring sorrow and shame to many others." ' « Mr. Wagner, when I left Stringtown to go to school you gave me some advice. You told me that when I found the girl I loved, I should tell her so. I am now of age and m a fair way to make a living. I love Susie with all my heart. I cast no blame on her for the shame her father wrought. Upon the contrary, I now despise the name of the man who wronged her, and 1 love her none the less. I am willing to share my name if she will accept it. Give her a good education, I beg of you, do your duty as her guardian, and look to me to furn.sh the name she needs. That is — " I hesitated "What?" " If sue will share it." " Cupe knows," I added, and turned to address the old man, but he had silently slipped away ; only Mr. Wagner and myself were present. The negro had gone from the room either before or after my declara- tion was made, I knew not which. He had left us with the expressed threat to « raise the devil with the name of Manley." ao 305 f! CHAPTER LI ij\i THE MAGIC MIRROR CLEEP did not readily come to my eyes that night, ^-^ and the snatches of slumber brought little r«t. Distressing dreams that seemed to be joined to not less painful periods bf waking possessed me. When morn- ing broke I arose fatigued and with swollen eyes. My mother perceived that something weighed upon my mind, and suggested that I might not be well; but I passed the matter lightly. Although painful dreams came to me all that night, I remembered but one in- cident, wherein occurred a question: "What is the object of life?" Memory of the scenes of the previous evening and the threat of Cupe concerning the Manleys disturbed me. I feared that he might carry his threat into im- mediate execution, and 1 will add that I now felt not only a personal concern, but a legitimate right to inter- fere. With this thought in mind, I started for his cabin without any well-formulated plan of action. But it was not to meet Susie that I went this time to the home of the dead Corn Bug. I intended to talk with the old negro, and for the once I hoped to find the girl absent. My object being to discover something further con- cerning the past life of his charge and to tell Cupe that by reason of my conference with Mr. Wagner, her guardian, I had, to a degree, assumed a personal respon- ciKiliftr •ty conc( :iiinjj i:ci iUlUiC. 306 will admit, also, that The Magic Mirror I was aggrieved over the manner in which the old slave had treated me on the two occasions in which I had been prevented from telling the girl thai my thought was for her, and I now proposed not only to inform him of my intention, but to give him to understand that I should submit to no further impertinence in this direc- tion. « Neither has the old fool," I said to myself, " a right longer to thrust on me his negro superstitions ! " As I reflected in detail over the manner in which he had played upon my childish credulity, and had even made me take part in his incantations, I felt both indig- nant and humiliated. " I '11 have no more of it," I said, and in this mood reached the cabin. No signs of life were to be seen about the place, no dog cu led before the str 10 Dinah, Cupe nor Susie. I knocked on the door, and imagined that I heard a sound within, but the door remained closed and no voice bade me enter. Then I stepped to the window ; it was close curtained. I walked around the dwelling, to find that with one exception the other windows were also draped. The exception was the room in the new addition to the cabin, the room of Susie, but that, too, was unoccupied and the door leading from it into the cabin was closed. A moment I stood there studying with my eyes the scene within. Simple, indeed, were the home surround- ings of this girl, and yet in good taste. A picture cut from a magazine, a home-made ornament worked by girlish hands, a few knick-knacks, such as she might cherish, and an assortment of books that astonished me. History, science, art, literature! I knew the works, some of them, others as yet I had not seen. Admiration for the girl had previously possessed me, now I knew that it had not been misplaced. This was all I saw — with one exception — that of 307 in ' Stringtown on the Pike ^ the pencil drawing of a young man — my own face surely— conspicuous in a rustic frame on the little dresser near the window. Evidently the sketch was by Susie ; and slipped into the frame was a rose, a dried wild rose. As I pressed my face to the glass of the little window of the room a sense of shame came over me ; my action unmanly. « Forgive me, Susie," I said to myself, « I 'm a churl, a sneak ! " and in this mood I passed back to the front door. I was convinced that the home could not be deserted, for seldom, if pver, did all the occupants of a negro cabin leave the premises unguarded, and I questioned then as to whether from a distance I had not been observed; and naturally I inferred that my unbidden company was distasteful, and that Cupe had taken this means to teach me that my visits were not to be con- tinued. "The impertinent old fanatic," I thought; « to what end may he not carry his superstitions, born of ignorance and bred in arrogance ? " I raised an axe handle that stood beside the doorway and beat the heavy oak door as though to splinter it. I made the old house rmg, for with each blow I grew angrier and thought meaner things, I who had no right to even question the reason of the action of any occupant of that home. Then, as I rested, the door opened and Cupe stood before me. No smirk on his countenance now, no welcome smile, no courtesy and bow. " Yo' Stringtown boy from de Norf, ain't dah room nuff outside fo' yo' t' walk?" Then without waiting a reply, he added : « De Susie gearl's not in de cabin." He closed the door in my face. Never before had I known an old-time negro to do such an act as this ; hospitality was born and cultivated in the hearts of the old Southern hoi 308 slave, and for The Magic Mirror Cupe to behave in this manner was unpardonable. I raised the axe handle, and with both hands grasping the shaft, struck such a vicious blow on the door as to benumb my fingers and jar the stick from my grasp. The door, strong as it was, could stand few such attacks as that, and I presume Cupe realised the fact, for once more he threw it open, stepped to one side and awaited my entrance. I lost no time in accepting the opportun- ity ; the negro closed the door immediately, and I ob- served that he bolted it too, for I heard the draw of the iron bar. I heard it, I say, for although the sun was shining brightly outside there was no ray of light within. Absolute darkness prevailed. " I tole yo' de Susie gearl am not t' home." « I came to talk to you," I answered, coolly, « not to see Susie." "De time am not 'pitious an' de mannah ob de come'n am not perlite. Doan yo' see de doah am slow t' open ? De sign am bad, I tole yo'." " Shut up about your signs and incantations. Never let me hear you mention them again. I wish no more of them." « An' ef yo' wish no moah, why doan yo' keep 'way. Hab Cupe ebah gone t' hunt yo' up an' shove 'em down yoah froat ? Doan yo' always come t' Cupe, an' doan yo' start de spell ? De twine ob de spell am tangled 'bout de feet ob Cupe an' Dinah and Red-Head an' Susie an' yo'selb. An' yo' am de one who did de act ob de tangle. But Cupe would n't care ef de sweet gearl wah free ; de sign twine might be 'bout de necks ob yo' two boys. Did n't yo' start de spell, I axes ? " I felt the justice of the rebuke, but was determined to have my say. « I 'm tired of all this foolishness." (( De doah am b'hin' yo', an' de way am cleah t' de 309 i Stringtown on the Pike sunshine ; shall Cupe open et an' let yo' out ? Yo' hain't got no invite t' stay." " I tell you I came to talk with you" Then I felt an object touch my knees. " Take de cheer an' do yoah talkin' moah comf'ble." I sought the back of the chair with my hand, found it and seated myself. "Cupe, why don't you light up your room ? raise the curtain." « Yo' come t' talk 'bout fool signs, Cupe hab de con- bersashun in him eah ; go on wid de talk, fo' de eah doan need no jlight." I felt somewhat disturbed. The absence of the women, the mysterious movements of the negro, his well-known fanaticism and his methods were not calcu- lated to enliven me; besides, this absolute darkness, when it should have been light, was depressing. " Cupe, since I came to this cabin as a child I have been imposed upon more than once by your superstitions. You led me to expect to fight Red-Head, and the men- tal impression you made on my young mind induced me to hate him. I presume that you accomplished the same end with Red-Head." You led the unsuspecting girl Susie to look forward to trouble that was coming between us two boys, and she, too, became involved in your silly signs. You must stop this nonsense now." " An' yo' doan b'lebe in de sign ? " "No." " When de chicken cock crow at midnight, am et a sign dat mahn'n '11 come ? " « No." " Do yo' ebah know a mahn'n not t' come ahftah de crowin' ob de chicken ? " " You old fool." " Yo' say yo' doan b'lebe in signs ? " 310 t The Magic Mirror « No." " Yo' b'lebe in de alm'nac ? " " Yes." , "P^ 'clips es, de da'k an' de light ob de moon, cordin t' de alm'nac, am right?" " Yes ; they are predicted by calculation." " Yo' b'lebe what yo' see written in de alm'nac book r « Yes." "Cupe'll ask yo' t' read a page fo' t' let him see ef de Susie gearl kin read es apt es she might." He lighted a candle, and took from near the fireplace a Farmers' and Mechanics' Almanac; clumsily fingering the pages, he thrust the open book before my face. "Read de wo'ds ob de alm'nac an' tole me what de gem'n what write et say. He am not bery p'lite in de pictah, an' he seems t' be pow'ful much hurt jes below de ribs." I glanced at the page and over the well- known illustration read, " Signs of the Zodiac." Cupe chuckled. " An' yoah book ob fac's am a sign book. Bettah yo' say nuffin moah 'bout Cupe. De book say de moon '11 change, an' suah de sign yo' read in de book am good, fo' de moon do change. Et say de 'clipses '11 come, an' de sign am good, fo' dey do come. What yo' see in debook am good, an' Cupe sahtify t' de fac', but what Cupe kin see wid his eyes an' heah wid his eahs am jes es good es alm'nac signs." Suddenly changing the subject of the discussion, he asked : « Doan yo' meet de Red-Head Boy es Cupe p'dicted ? " "Yes." " Doan yo' two boys fight ? " « Yes." " Doan de Susie gearl come betwixt yo* ? '* 311 Stringtown on the Pike "Yes, but — " But without heeding me the negro added : « An' did n't Cupe p'dict de come'n ob dsm all ? " " You guessed some things, I will admit." "An' so does de alm'nac book guess some tings. But Cupe doan guess. He sees 'em all, he knows moah'n he tells, an' he kin tell moah 'bout yo' dan vo' tells too." ^ " Tell me something I know that has happened and not been told." « Yo' stood i^i de city by de stone wall wid de carpet- bag at yoah feet an' met de long-haired man. Yo' went wid him t' de play-house. Yo' los' yoah money, an' den yo' go an' stan' on de bridge lookin' down in de watah, an' yo' come monstrous neah jurnyin' down into de ribbah. But yo' couldn't jump, fo' de end ob de spell wah not den. Yo' did n't tole no man 'bout de sperience yo' meet in de big city, an' yo' doan 'tend t' tole no man, ner yo' doan wan' Cupe t' tole no man " " You old devil," I said indignantly, « how did you nnd out these things ? " "I read 'em in de glass, I see 'em wid my eyes, I heah de conbersashun wid my eahs es easy es I talk t' yo' now. Yo' look in de alm'nac book fo' de sign, an' yo doan git much but moon an' 'clipses. Cupe see de movin' ob de past an' de come'n ob de future, an' yo' call dem fool signs. He wah readin' de future when yo' knock so loud on de doah." « You 're an old liar, Cupe. Some man told you these things about me." " An' yo' wan' t' sec wid yoah eyes ? " « I dare you to show me the things you claim to see." « Memberlec' dat Cupe doan ax yo' on. Yo' am de feller what ax de quistion." 312 f ^i The Magic Mirror «An' you « I dare you to show me the manner in which you read the sign." ^ « Dah am moah 'n one way, but one 's nufF fo' yo'. bit still an' doan move, yo' sign chile, sit still, an' yo '11 see de passin' ob de past an' de come'n ob de nex' spell." He lighted a candle and from some unseen receptacle produced a black object like a mirror, about twelve inches in length and nine inches in diameter. It was concave, and black as pitch. This he placed in my hands, ex- plaining that I must look into its concave surface. As my fingers touched the curious object, every point of which was black as asphaltum, a curious sensation ran over my body, a strange tremble that seemed to be ear- ned into my frame from out my finger-tips. The dim glimmer of the candle, that lighted the room but little and the thing I touched but could see not at all the solenin voice of the negro, the air of mystery with which he moved and spoke, following the remarkable manner in which he had outlined the experiences I met in Cincinnati, and that I supposed were locked securely in my own breast, unnerved me and my hands trembled. What IS this thing, and where did you get it ? " I « Et am de sign-glass, an' I got et from de man who doan make no alm'nacs. Cupe hab trabelled Norf, an' hab trabelled Souf, an' hab sot monstrous close t' m-n who hab be'n out in de night an' in de sunshine wha' de summer am all de yeah long. Yo '11 see moah in dat glass dan yo' ebah read in any book, an' when yo' git fru, yo 11 not hab t' ax Cupe t' tole yo' de nex' news what s come n, an' yo' won't be consahned in wha' Cupe got de glass need'h. Look down an' read— read de glass." 313 111 Stringtown on the Pike I lowered my eyes, and « I did so the negro blew out he flame of the candle, again I was in absolute dark- ness, p-az.ng at or toward an object i., itself black even m dayhght. " Cupe, this is nonsense, light up the candle, open the door ! " I said. But still /gazed il he m,rror>s depths, for strange movements began to phy m the a,r near where I felt the surface of the thing should be and ,hen an uncouth object shot from out one^ldeof the ra,rror and assumed the shape of an ugly human face, am ^,t'l "8"-S'"^='. ■^hile, an' talk when de spell am obah, but po reason had the negro to make this vansh, and I now gazed in f.:cina,ion down into its depths, yes, through « into light beyond. Th^s is what The motion of the Jr at first was similar to a thick m.t blown back and forth in the night before an i llum- nated object that couL just be distinguished deep down m the bottomless distance. Then came a gyrating move- ment that swept the vapours into a spiral which fevo^v^d as does an eddy of water, sucking the vapours into a vortex centre which seemed to pass down into the in- creasmg bnghtness beyond. As the vapou,. disappeared nto the eddy, the light rapidly brightened, and soon I sat lookmg mto a sunshine scene in which no object soothmg. Then came a shadow, and as by magic a whTh r^''^'^" "''■°" ^y 'y«. a -ene of the pa!, in wh ch I had taken part, and all the incidents of that nigh, of terror m which as a child I first «n to this cabin every phase of that scene, from the reading by Cupe of SI4 The Magic Mirror Next came a blank in which mists whirled again, and then appeared the scene in the grocery, where, that night in 1863, stood Parson Jones confronting the picturesque Colonel Luridso... I heard the storm again ; the sleet and wii.d of New Year, 1864, beat upon my ears, the movements of the men about that stove and their con- versation were again a part of my life, and I saw myself, too, sutmg in the circle even until the climax came and the hands of the parson leaped out and grasped the throat ot Loridson. I saw and heard as if I were an observer, and then, as for the second time, I gazed at a scene in which :m actor, I sat now an observer. I cried aloud and the scene changed. Next came, one by one, the principal incidents I have recorded m this history of my life and which I need not again relate. The quarrel with Red-Head in the valley, the farewell to Stringtown, the pathetic ride on the old, rocking stage, the subsequent experiences in Cincinnati, touched upon by Cupe and which I had never described to any one, the life in college, the return to Stringtown, the recent incidents, and at last I was led to the present moment, and saw myself sitting in my chair gazing into the magic mirror. Yes, I sat in the cabin of Cupe holding that occult glass, into whose depths I was peer- ing and, remarkable statement, I was surely looking at myself A feeling of awe came over me, a desire to drop the glass, and yet I could not. Spellbound my eyes followed the young man (myself), who next handed the glass to the negro by his side and passed out of the cabin. He walked slow'y, with bowed head, seemingly in deep meditation ; but once did he stoop (and then I -rould not catch the object he picked up) until, raising his eyes, a gwl appeared before him. The two spoke, then I saw him take her hand and plead for something, 31S Stringtown on the Pike hi ''" Zt 'r'^.r "•^''' '"' '"^ ™'«= »"« very rnd rf- »""«.« <^>''i". if you call tnat 'tings what 's come'n'." « Yo' did n't git t' de end ob yoah trabeis, yo' did n't 316 The Magic Mirror « No " '^ ''^'''' ^°' ^"' ^^^-"^^^ ^ " Susie II be gone from the worl' an' walkin' still ? " No } I moved the mirror and the scene disappeared." Et am monstrous strange, de endin' ob de spell fo' vo't'o ?''.''' "'' '' ^"'•"' °^ Red-Head an" ob yo too, but he caint git no sense out ob de endin' ob Susie. Gone out ob de worl' an' yet in et, de spell say gone from de 'vorl'. De pure white face wah sweet es an ange^ she wah in ole Kaintuck suah, she wahZi? Et .m ' ^f , •"^" '^y '^' ""^^ g°"e from de worl'. Et am an awful tmg t' Cupe t' not see de cleah endin' ob de spell fo' Susie." Then he turned to me and spoke kmdly : « Chile, Cupe doan mean no ha'am t' yo' he ham t said no d.srespec'. Yo' hab slandered de sign spe k a?LT' r °' ': ^^-'"- book, but befo' /o' what d "w " '<" r " "' ''' '' ^'S"-g^^" ^- «^'- what yo know am wonct be'n, an' yo' hab seed de come'n steps, an' yo' caint help but walk in oe way yo' saw de signs movm'." He pointed to the door. «De come n ob de sign am axin' yo' t' go on " Strlngtow'n! "'"* '"' P""' ^^-" ^ P^^^ that led to 317 ]J 'i •1 ,i CHAPTER LII MY SECOND JOURNEY OVER A PATH I NEVER YET HAD TROD TV/fANY and varied were the emotions that passed ■L^-^ through^ my mind as I left that door. What strange mirror had Cupe in his possession that could lead me to imagine that I was looking at my past move- ments ? "Pshaw ! » I said aloudf-the' negro Ls made a fool of me." ^ But there came then to mind the curious manner in which he touched upon my movements in Cincinnati. Slowly 1 passed along, stopping often to think over the incidents related, and then it occurred to me that I had passed that way before. Yes, I saw that I was simply retrac- ing a path over which I had recently walked i and yet I knew that I came to the cabin by another path, and that not for four years had I been there previously. Objects by the wayside were familiar, and as I passed along I anticipated those that would next appear. I stooped over and picked a modest little blue blossom that peeped from a tuft of grass by the path —I had picked that same flower before from beside that exact clump of grass -and as I pinned it to my lapel I appre- ciated that once before I had pinned that identical flower to the lapel as now I did it. " Strange," I thought to myself, « I meet detail ex- periences now that I did not notice when reading the mirror, but which I perceive, now that T am reminded 318 My Second Journey, &c. of them, are surely repetitions of past incidents." And then I caught the fact that the mirror seemingly opened conspicuous phases of life and held them before my gaze, but left the impress of others to be revived on my intel- lect. These reflections sifted through my mind as I passed for the second time along that narrow path, the path I had recently seen myself following, and then my thoughts turned towards Susie and unbidden came to my lips the hnes of a favourite song of that day : 'T was down in the meadows, the violets were bloominff And the springtime grass was fresh and green And the birds by the brooklet their sweet songs were singing, When I first met my darling, Daisy Dcane. " Don't sing the song out, please." I had turned a sharp angle in the thickest banked hollow and Susie stood before me. She was slowly walking toward her home; her downcast eyes were shaded by her sunbonnet, and her gaze rested on the path before her. She raised her eyes and fixed them on ir-y own, this child woman, whose youthful face, not- withstandmg her childishness, was womanly in expres- sion. « I have been to the cabin, Miss Susie," I said : It m,ay be my last visit, for soon I start North to pre- pare for the task I have assumed ; but you know that you said I might come again." Not heeding my words, the girl extended her hand ; I took It m my own, and held it too long, I fear, before releasing it. " Mr. Drew," she said, « you must come no more to my home." I began to protest, but she interrupted. "Do not deny me this favour; I am in earnest deeply in earnest. Come no more to my cabin, avoid Cupe, avoid Dinah » - she hesitated an instant just enough to show that she had hesitated - and con- .inucu : - iiid me good-bye forever." 319 I>^ :' I Stringtown on the Pike "Susie this i8 cruel. What have I done to provoke S I /r;»'r" ^° '°^Sive my rudenls the night I met Red-Head in your home ? " "I bear you no ill will for that," she answered. "I was partly at fault, and I am sorry for my last remark 5 1 did not give the rose to Red-Head " "I already know that, and yet thank you for telling you in declining to give me the second rose, why did you irritate me by leading me to believe that you in- tended to give it to him ?" ^ "Am I not k girl? Why should you take that so seriously? Had you the discernment of a girl you would not have asked me to give you the second rosel it was foohsh in me to proffer you, unasked, the first one." R.d-Head did not get the other. Susie, twice only in four years have I called at your home to meet you ; at neither time did I get the chance to tell you why I made the visit. "^ " Nor must you tell me now." "Susie, I'll not leave you this time without having my say. I < — " ° "Please, Mr. Drew," she interrupted, "first listen to me. "Go on, Miss Susie. But when you have finished I shall tell you what twice before I have tried to say » Not heeding me, she continued : « I am a lonely girl reared by the negroes. I have been wild and care- less, but am so no longer. If I have a father, he has no child in me. My mother was shot during the war I cannot remember her. Youth has been in my case a strange story of negro lore and superstition, of human •neglect and inhuman loneliness. I rem^rnhpr l«» of 320 My Second Journey, &c. pleasure than of trouble, less of kindness than of rude- ness. I am prematurely old in some things, but this is not my fault ; no other girl in Stringtown has had cause to think as h:- . • T of things that crush the joys of child- hood. Nf girl c-u'panion ever crosses the threshold of my home, u.n do \ meet any in their own. Why should I be 1 King ^ Mr. Drew, to think as I have done since I ^s taught my place among people is to learn more of some things than many who are much older know. To feel the undeserved touch of shame is to realise what shame really is. To meet the shrinking eye and the withdrawn hand, to hear the sneer of the heartless tongue, brings care and sorrow that brushes youth away early. I am alone with Cupe and Dinah ; nearly as old in feeling, I sometimes imagine, as are they. You have been kind in thinking of me. I don't know why you act as you do, but you are indiscreet and have no right to injure yourself and wrong me by per- sisting in your visits. I wish to be left alone; and while I feel deeply grateful for your good will, I cannot permit any further attention." " Susie, you wrong both of us by this idle talk. You are a girl, and yet you take life as seriously as if you were a full-grown woman." "Cans and thoughts that are bred of snubs and sneers have cut off my girlhood. I have already told you that. I have no mother to take a mother's part for me} I must be a woman. I know some things too well to require information from others concerning them, and one of these is that you have brought me much trouble." " I, Susie, I ? » " Yes, you. It was you who asked that I might be educated, who led me to receive the instruction that " 321 i I: I Stringtown on the Pike enabled me to understand my position in life. Were I the wild ignorant girl I should have been but for your interference, I might now be happy with the negroes knowing nothing concerning the world nor of what others have and are in the world, nor yet of what I am myself. You did a wrong, Mr. Drew, in thus showing me what other girls are, and in picturing my utter dis- grace and absolute helplessness. I could not have felt these things had you left me in ignorance." "Miss—" "Nothing but Susie, if you please," she interjected, observing that I hesitated. " Susie," i continued, " these things that you brood over concern me not at all and do you no harm. You magnify your misfortunes; you misjudge men and women ; you wrong your friends and hurt those who would be your friends. I speak from my heart, Susie; you wrong me too, and to prove it I shall tell you now what I came twice before to say. I " ^ " Stop," she cried ; « before you finish the words you intend to speak, I would ask — have you spoken to your mother ? " Surely the girl knew what I intended to ask. Her manner showed that, and now my heart leaped, for her tone was no. that of one offended or unfriendly, but rather of earnest questioning. " No ; but she will make no objection to — " " First ask her, and if she makes no objection, you may come to the cabin and finish the question you would ask of me. Promise to do this," she pleaded. « You have my promise, Susie, but you need have no question concerning the result. I shall return to-night --yes this very afternoon. I 'H tell you then that wnica L have started three times to sav " 322 My Second Journey, &c. She shook her head. "You will not come back to-night, neither will it be to-morrow nor yet the next day. No, never. You may meet me by accident, I may come toyou — Cupe says th. t I'll kneel on the floor and with tears in my eyes beg justice of you — but whether this is true or not you will never come to me with these words on your lips again." " You wih never come again," she continued ; « others have turned away, none are lett but Red-Head and my guardian — none, and you, too, will come no more. Farewell." Her hand trembled as I again clasped it, and now its touch was cold. Her eyes met mine, and I saw that they were filled with tears. " May I have the flower you wear in your lapel ? " she asked. « Why do you ask that of me? " I said. "Take it, though, and if ever you need a friend, one who will grant your every wish, you who claim that you have no friends, need but show that flower to me. Whatever it may be\ and wherever I may be^ you have but to ask" "Thank you, and farewell, Mr. Drew. You have been kind to me, but very thoughtless I think about yourself. I forgive you the wrong you have done in the unsought education that shows me my position. But I wish that it could be forever lost." I stood in silence. She turned and walked up the path the way I came, vanishing around the clump of hazel, and then I turned toward Stringtown. Now came again to my mind the vision that the mirror pictured; all I had seen therein had been repeated, verified, and in addition my ear had now heard the con- versation that the mirror failed to give. 323 V CHAPTER LIII " NEVER, UNLESS DUTY CALLS, SHALL I RETURN TO STRINGTOWN " ]\/rY patient, loving mother, whose life had been a 7 \ ^°"''^"' ^^^"fi^^ ^or her son, once a source of deep humiliation, now an object of pride, sat that after- noon ,n the little room sewing by the centre table. I entered with quick step, with happy heart, with no mis- givings concerning the result of my mission. The fulfilment of my desires had been to her a source of great pleasure heretofore ; she had never denied me a request tha: was right and that could be conceded. "Mother" -I said, seating myself beside her chair, - 1 am now twenty-one years of age. I have a good position, where advancement is certain, and where I shall win yet higher honours. In order t. prepare for the course I have mapped out I must leave Strinetown in a few days. Before going, however, I wish to speak with you concerning a very important subject." « Go on, my son," said she, laying aside her sewing. « Mother, you know that I have been offered an assistant position in chemistry. I hope to make a better home than this for you in a few years, and to give you a life of peace and rest. For me you have worked your hngers sore, have slaved since I can remember " " You must first make a happy home for yourself, my boy; that should be your object, one to which, in case of necessity, your old mother may come and end her 324 <^ Never, unless Duty Calls, Sec." days. But for a time at least I shall not think of leav- ing Stringtown. Look forward to a home of your own ; seek no higher ambition. You will some day meet one you can ask to go with you to the end of your journey, and be with you, to love you and be loved. This I hope to see accomplished before I die." " I have met her already, mother," I said in elation, " and I came to ask your permission to speak to her, to get your blessing on both of us and your favour for her." " So soon, my son ! Are you not hasty ? I thought and spoke of the future. I had no suspicion of this love ; you did not tell me that you had found a sweet- heart in the North." " Nor have I." " And yet you keep no company with Stringtown girls." " No, and shall not. I am in love, but my love is neither in the North nor in Stringtown. I love the girl who lives with Cupe and Dinah, the girl called Susie." My mother dropped the garment she held in her hand. " You do not mean it, Sammy." " Mother, I speak the truth. I love Susie better than life." " Susie who ? " The question was cmel. My mother, she to whom I came in absolute confidence, she, too, emphasised the word who^ and as unmercifully as any Stringtown girl had done. I stood up in anger, indignation for the first time toward my mother entered my heart. "'Who?' why, Susie, only Susie, and I who am concerned most of any care for nothing else. Some day she will be Susie Drew, and then I '11 heat the face of the man who says ' Susie who ? * to me, and I '11 teach 325 m If • Stringtown on the Pike f^^-7'\^T"'J T'^'' ^"^ ^P^'^en the word -u;ho" I did not finish the remark. """ you'!!ked'Th/°".'""' ^"''" '^^ y°"^ "^^^her. Have you asked the girl to marry you?" "No." / / "^ bred. _ L,ste„ .o your mother, n,y dear boy, see heT^ " And this from you, mother ! " are'vlnn^ ^ ^"^ °^1- ^"°"S^ '° 'P^^^ advisedly. You are young, a pretty face excites what you think is love -it IS puppy love, my child, and when th Tee s oj; :i:?^r^zri-hiasr;^^^ villagers I /ot^kno^^V.he t^nT eL' I wS ''' ' since have known of it." '^°"^'' ^°"e « Mother, I cannot take this kindly, even fmm , as pure and holy as was ever girl or woman. She has been unfortunate in birth, she does not know her f«h " much to h,s shame, and no, to her di.gr.cerher I feha: been a dreary, lonely one, and ner companions hav be" her Looks and the negroes. From the one she has oroT ■ted, the others have served her well —be it .1? ^t credit and ,„ Stringtown's discredr Y u ly 'h t" 'am possessed by .puppy love,- that when the ftce i'gon" " Never, unless Duty Calls, &c." the love will fade away. That is not so. You say that to marry Susie will be to blast my life, that my marriage to the girl will disgrace you, my mother. And why ? Because of an unwritten law that scoundrels make, and society follows, that reaches even such as you, and does not credit you, who seek to save discredit from your son. You -ailed that girl an adventuress, but the facts are that your son made the advanr<;s. I sought her, but she gave no encouragement. I forced my attentions on her, and she met them coldly. She has been wronged by you. I must say this, even to you, mother." I sank on my knees by her side, and as if I were again a child, buried my face in her lap, while tears, born of humiliation, indignation, disappointment, and sorrow gushed from my eyes. She gently stroked my hair, back and forth, as she had been wont to do when I was a child. " Heed the words of your mother, Sammy. Disgrace that falls upon and lingers over the name of woman can never be brushed away." " But she has done nothing wrong, this forlorn girl • she is helpless." ^ * « The world makes no allowance for the fact that the girl is not at fault; she is unfortunate, and must accept the odium that rests upon her name. Does not the Bible say words to the effect that the sins of the parents shall be visited upon the children ? " « Don't make me hate the Bible, mother I " "My child!" "Listen now to me, mother." I arose and seated myself on my chair, calm, composed. «I shall leave Stringtown to-night — yes, this very night. My vaca- tion scarce commenced, ends to-mVht. Never unless duty calls, shall I return to Stringtown, unless you give u Stringtown on the Pike me permission ,o go to £i,sie as a suitor, free to ask h,r .0 be my wife, or ,.„less Susie permits meto vS.tr I have ma,l. a fool , nyself in my usual way,Itha'of ^^aJI: "■■""''''' '" ^^^ Susie to be my wife i-a V • "w 'm" ■" "' ^"" ''"^•"^ ■' "-■ '^'"^'"l » y sent fat." ''''"°'" °''' ' '^''' "> "^l' yo"' con- l^^d, one who comprehends .he efFeet of soeial disX has prevented this terrible mistake. Whoever he frsh' o7h r" XT'"" '"'"'T' ^-""'^g-u. .:Vim nowhavet ri,rc?th::dv-:::;r sxr^r-ror.---^"--^ St"bg.ow'„ C"' " """ ""'"''''''• ' ^'-^U '-e 328 CHAPTER LIV FAREWELL TO SUSIE J STEPPED into my room and wrote a note which, ^9, " ^ ^w? "^; ^ "^^^"^^^ "^'^'^ 'he simple word and pa,d him liberally to deliver h immedia Jy! The on^^her, I had not promised the girl .hat I would no. Love letters, I have heard, are not as a rule very edi- ^Thfll V "• '^^''' "•>' *■•*'• ^' ="<■ ""ly '"ve letter, 1 shall, however, venture to reproduce. Dear Susie : You «y ,),„ l „„„^ . . ^ th.nk that you have been led by ,ha. eduction ,o see yourself disgraced. W„h .his I take issue. By reason of i, you peTdve better .he s.„s of ujen and women who make social CsT; ! tec. .he s.rong and oppress .he weak, .o elevate .he villain of a fa.her and damn h,s innocen, child. I shall leave Stri g,oL this afternoon on .he evening bus, and by your command Ho w,.hou. calhng on you. You induced me .o promiseTo^lve'o my moUier a question .ha. concerned myself more than all odier, you bound me .oan oa.h .ha. I canL. br^ak bu^wU h your d.scnmma.ive eye foresaw would lead .o my dCld to my present disrress. For diis I blame vou Le, ,1, " cha,ge agains. you balance .he one you hrigai^^A:^ now .0 d,e future, I leave Stringtown anxious^ to complce ,l,j sentence wh.ch, incomplete as i, is. I shall hold sac„d S my 329 Stringtown on the Pike mother gives me the privileee of r^f,^- Vours, Samuel Drew North. In a short tim- V ^ ' """" ""' ''«'"• ""= gate. I bade her wilT^r^r """ '^"'' '° '"' fengthened «aned for h7 L 1 ch dela'^t '"^"""^^ dent, late ,ha, after„«,n rol ed imo' S,^ '"'' '" ""'" mounted the box to th^ e v ^"'"Sf"""). As I h-d then left „,e without ^awtf""' T '-"^. '"' rolled off. stoDoed a m«,^ . 1, !^ "° four-in-hand where ™ trunTta^X.: ab ::^ ■"Vf"'^ "«''• on "gain. Once mo^eT saw ' ','" "■'" ''"■"bled handkerchief ,0 her eves h„rrk- ' """'""S "«•> ^he cared n,ore fcrlrb^; 'a„d 1 1 iTj f V*" "^ 7;;^' w might both LrwighS^d h"''r°''' °!; gladdened my heart. ""gniened her face and ^Jhen I opened ihe letter that lies now before n,y ^r. Samuel Drew. Dear Friend : In renl,. ^« you wrong your n,o.h rsh/Z u""' I '' ""' °P'"°" ">« you ,00 well ,0 permit ;ouL^^ ""' '" """"d for loving «""", through no^cTof mv owl'T" """T'^' ' ™ ""for! and I know it. Were I ^the 1 " T"' ''"' ^« ""fo™""', shunned. The n>ark of Zme » « ^ ''""' '"' " "O"- ' >"• *-. govern people r:rch;;j: -,---■ Farewell to Susie for to relax social vig.lancc would be to open the door to crime and immorahty I have racked my brain over the matter, have read and studied social science, and although I am young, the sub- ject has disturbed me for years. You have my thanks for your good will - this I have told you before. You will merit them the more if you look to your own future, and forget the past so far as ,t concerns me. Undo your hasty, thoughtless pledges, strive to excel in good deeds and leave the negro-bred girl Susie to pass in peace wherever chance or duty leads her. Mr Drew, you are far above me. Of all the persons I know, Red- Head alone stands in actual sympathy and on an equality with uch as I. Let, then, my life be spent in sympathy with those to whom such as I must be in touch, let the unended sentence you have three times commenced rest unfinished foreveu Very truly yours, Susir. While I was reading the letter the driver stopped the team m order to arrange a defective piece of harness on one of the horses, and as I raised my eyes I saw Red- Head beneath a tree by the right-hand side of the road. 1 ail, erect, lithe, h- stood not more than twenty feet from me, gazing directly into my face. A sensation akin to pity for the young man came over me, a kindly feel- ing for one ..glected as he had been. I raised rnv hat politely and bowed. But he, without any recc ^[uon whatever, gazed stoically into my face and whistled. Then the devil touched my heart, and in a low tone, « wrV '"°'' '^''''^" ^^'^^"^^ °f 'his fact, I asked : Why do you not go back to the mountains; cannot you handle a Springfield rifle yet ? " He made no replK and I continued : « How about that mountain teud? Holcomb will get tired of waiting for you to grow bigger." 6 / «•" Indifferent to the taunt, he stood motionless. The coach now moved on, and as it did so I spoke the 331 /-'^ i ii Stringtown on the Pike meanest words I ever used • ic v . "lie %h,,y„u who ^Jrl^^JCklT """"« "■ where lives oM - , Holcnmh " d " """"■""ins "o «ply; ..« a statue hfre-n ;'" """"•"•'Kl.. watching the «age on whtt 771" '"'*'' '^'^''^' around a bend in the pfke L ,''"' ""'^"'"g it until appeared from his vie^ '""'''"'"g vehicle dis- 11 f I 332 CHAPTER LV PROFESSOR SAMUEL DREW TNTO the University stepped with embittered heart ^ and rebelhous spirit. Ambition still possessed me, but not such ambition as should have animated a poor widow s son with my prospects. The professor whom 1 was to assist greeted me kindly, and I found him to be a charmmg old man, engrossed in the love of his science He took pains to introduce me at once to those of h.s colleagues who still lingered about the University, although most members of the faculty were now enjoying their vacation elsewhere. " You please me very much, Mr. Drew," he remarked dunng our first audience. « Not many young men would sacrifice their summer va ation as you have done in order to acquaint themselves with , exartmg details of a new work. It speaks well for your fut. :, for while genius is often useful and some imes le.ds to fortune the men who make successes of their lives are those who work while others rest. Surely it must have re- quired more than a little self-sacrifice on your part to leave your mother, your friends, your - " he glanced slyly out of the corners of his eye, ^ « your sweetheart » " ^ Let ,1 pass," I answered ; « forget that I came before dutv called me. I shall do my utmost to credi! myself in the future." Many were the compliments the old nr.fessor gave me, tor my daily application pleased him, and when the 333 I n ^V Stringtown on the Pike president returned from abroad, he praised me in my very presence mforming him that I had sacrificed my work, and, he added, "credit for the changed con- d.t.on of the aboratory and chemical department is due to h.s persona efforts." But I thought of the girl Z once stood before me in the path near StringtoL,ld the events that ha followed the request she'made of the b.tter sp.nt and heart madness with which I came to th.s work; and realising how unearned was the prai e bestowed upon me, demurred. « You are mistaken," I said. « I deserve no credit." 1 ut, tut, boy ! and to whom is the credit due ? " The answer and the question were alike unexpected ; the eyes of both were quizzing me f " • " To Susie." in I^f "!^" <^h"ckled and slyly poked the president in the nbs with h.s thumb, a thing I did not expect to see a dignified professor do to a great president. " And who is Susie ? " That hateful term again, « Who is Susie ? " Could 1 never get away from it ? But regard for the men led me to be decorous now and to suppress my indignation. bhe s a girl, and lives near Stringtown " Again the professor chuckled. "Let the credit be with Susie; then he added : " Let us hope the time may Tcu'u "^^ ""^y ""'"' ^"^'^ '■" '^' University." She 11 never come to this University while I am isltl V '^''" 'u'" ^ '''" ^^""g^°^" ^hile she no h.!; > ""t r'*"'"^ '° '^'^ ""'^''^ ^°'- «he will credit for "• , ^'^ ^°"' ^'^"^'^^ '° g'^^ Susie the forever." ^ ''^ ^ ^PP^^rance, and pass the matter ''- Pardon us, Mr. Drew ; we unintentionally touched 334 Professor Samuel Drew a tender spot ; pardon our thoughtless familiarity," said the professor. They passed from the room and I turned sadly to my work. But I could not help thinking that the old professor reminded me very much of Judge Elford, and I could but wonder how the dignified presi- dent of a University could be punched in the ribs with- out being offended. And so I began my new found task which grew more enticing as the seasons passed, during which period, true to my word, I refrained from visiting Stringtown. The death of good old Professor Longman, who died after a short illness, left me, in the middle of a subse- quent session, in full charge of the classes, and faithful attention to my duties, together with the commendations he had bestowed upon me during his life, led the trustees subsequently to appoint me to the vacancy, to which knowing well my youthfulness, I did not presume to aspire. But it seems that the president had declared in my favour and was not afraid of young blood. He appeared personally before the Board and expressed him- self to that effect, which left them no reason, had they been so inclined, to seek elsewhere for a successor. Hence the Announcement of the University on the Hill following the death of Professor Longman, bore my name as Professor of Chemistry, and thus it was that I became unexpectedly honoured ; but of this I need say nothing further, for I was now a man, and knew that hard work bad earned that position for me. The middle of the session following my appointment found me one day sitting in my private office reading a letter from my mother. It contained the usual loving messages, and the neighbourhood gossip was also brought to date. But its ending, which I reproduce, cast a shadow over my heart: 335 J; I I !! Stringtown on the Pike Mr Nordman, the old gentleman who lived beside the pike south of Stnngtown, died suddenly this morning. He had been very feeble but otherwise seemed to enjoy good health. He wasattacked wnh a miseryin his stomach immediately after breakfast, and died soon after the doctor reached his bedside. I held the letter listlessly in my hand and mused: Now he too w,ll lie in the little graveyard behind the house. And musing thus, the single shaft in the family graveyard appeared before my mind-sight; that shaft to the south of which rested his child, the Southern soldier, and to the north of which lay the Union son. And next came to .nind and sight the form of Mr Nordman, as the day before I left Stringtown, he led me to the spot where rested his two boys. And then recurred the words of advice he gave me as we parted : The grass grows no greener, the violets bloom no earlier, over the one than over the other. * The wah IS over, Sammy/ " ^^^ m.n »'!" T " 'Y'^^ °''' "°^ ^°'' y°"' Mr. Nord- man, I sadly said to myself, and then turned to my ill! I '!'' ' m ;^ V ■ UK I il-; ^ I, 336 CHAPTER LVI THE STRINGTOWN POISON CASE THE lectures passed day by day, the laboratory classes were drilled, as usual, and yet that sen- .tence of Mr. Nordman rang in my ears and came un- bidden to mind when no cause seemed to excite it. The figure of Mr. Nordman seemed constantly before my eyes, his words rang ever in my ears, and try as I might I could not beat them out. " What had Mr. Nordman to do with me, that the announcement of his death should thus concern me ? " I asked this question, and then argued that this domina- tion of my mind by his form and voice was simply the result of habit, a fit of melancholy permitted it, a sour stomach, perhaps, induced it. Surely Mr. Nordman's death was of no greater concern to me than was that of many other men in Stringtown who had died since I knew the village. Then came a second letter from Stringtown, a letter in a strange hand, but which bore the well-known Stringtown postmark. It was written by the attorney who had prosecuted old negro Cupe in the trial wherein he was freed by Right of Clergy, and I learned from it that the writer was again prosecuting attorney of Stringtown County. Let me give the letter in full : My dear PROFESsoa Drew : As prosecuting attorney of Stringtown County, it becomes my duty to engage an expert chemist in behalf of the Commonwealth. Can I secure your " 337 i1 111 ^#'•1 iiujiill Pifff ;M'' if i l\ Stringtown on the Pike the people of our courtv t\ u ""'^ y°" "« ^^^^ by of Mr. Nordman, whom vou nl M '°"''"'' °^ '^' ''"^^'^^^ that I suara„.ev:ri::,!:H':^f-^^^^^ trator of the estate. Piease lee me hear froryo/a:^:!"'" Sincerely yours, Z. B. PuTTEN. I turned to my desk and at once zcc.nt^A .u or sections devoted to the deter,:„„ f "S"" '''' I sat in meditation Doto, « '""'''"='• '^'" "''"^'' shadows before™' In "h" T"^ '''"''"" "■"■• iani Xrr fhft^:;tlar thi ^'- -t events duty would demand fhL I U '' °^ Stringtown. Duty calls, and while ZyTu^Z:. I may chance to meet Susie. ^ ^'''"' Then I mentally thanked Mr Putten th^ attorney, for his confidence tamyabltvanTHT""^ feel unkindly toward Mr. Nordm"^ for ife' part he Td taken ,n my personal affairs. "^ *^ *'"' - ^P tRe o.cxur, i reit a sinking of the heart : S3S knowing you as you are held by consent to serve s of the stomach ber. I will add by the admiiiis- ou at once. B. PuTTEN. 'ted the offer, nner in which sealed in the' my address, d sought the i, after which Its cast their than on this with which 'f Mr. Nord- e course of ce more to 1 her behest prosecuting ind did not 3art he had I me, that iron, a sen- riting came le box and ly wrapped bearing the the heart j The Stringtown Poison Case for I was not accustomed to handle such fruit as that jar contained. But a duty is a duty, I thought, and a gem from the Jewish Talmud came to my mind:i A man along that road is led Which he himself desires to tread j and for the first time I questioned if my repeated use of the word duty, in connection with this affair, was not due to an attempt on my part to argue my conscience down. But it was too late now to retreat. Ambition as well as duty bade me go on. Then another verse from the Talmud formulated itself unbidden and rang its changes in my mental ear : Ambition, as its fate, death and the grave await. « Open the package, William," I said to my assistant, " remove half its contents, securely close and seal the jar containing the other part and place it in a cool situation in the laboratory cellar." He did as directed, and I turned to my test tubes and reagents. Systematically I began the task I had undertaken — the examination of the contents of the jar with the object of discovering if it contained a poisonous body. There is no need of a record of all the details of the process. It is enough to state that no mineral poison, no inorganic poisonous acid, was discovered, nor yet the formidable prussic acid. Neither was phosphorus pres- ent nor any poisonous metal or salt thereof. There was no trace of an arsenic compound. The most exacting tests gave negative results only, and at last I turned to search for the vegetable bodies known as alkaloids, which, as a rule, are so energetic in action ; strychnine, mor- phine, atropine, being typical of the class. It will be ^ See "Gems from the Talmud," by Rev. Isadore Myers, B.A. 339 'I ! ( I! :\n i Stringtown on the Pike seen that these bodies embrace the most fearful of rh poisons, and, Jet nie add, are detected as . T k tain well-known reagents. '^''' ^^ ""'■- William stood with chin rp » i anri fj,^ I- -J solution was caut ouslv added mmmp allowed to rest tfc t w 'ik( fearful of the a class by cer- on my shoul- tive test-liquid Ice the surface the suspected white cloud > of Mayer's lid, following white cloud were shaken ther and yet iously added, g yet deeper :ation of the liolding clots e tube was leavy layer. - necessary j action char- Our eyes interpret, e but very 1 them sev- ith unmis- e a careful id: "The remarked, those of CHAPTER LVII SUSIE PLEADS FOR RED-HEAD (C '"p^HAT point must be determined," I replied. "■■ may be strychnine or a mixture. I sha " It may be strychnine or a mixture. I shall not prejudice myself concerning it." And in the end, after several days had passed, I was fairly well satisfied, al- though there were some points in connection with the chrome-sulphuric acid test which puzzled me. The blue-violet colour surely did appear, but it was not as characteristic as I should have liked. But after I ob- tained white microscopic crystals of an alkaloid on a slide which gave the reaction, I said : " You were cor- rect in your prediction, William 5 strychnine must be present, and such shall be my testimony before the Court of Stringtown County." But that evening, for the first time, misgi/ings arose in my mind. They came during the dinner hour, when a companion made an idle query that I could not satisfac- torily answer, and so turned lightly aside, but it led me to questionings. I arose from the table and sought my room. I picked i'.j! a light novel- but could not interest myself in its content,-;. I turned to Chambers' Miscellany^ and by chan- ' opened Volume II. to the record of cases wherein many men had sufi^ered death on circumstantial evidence that in itself seemed with each case to be conclusive of guilt, but which afterward was shown to have been erroneous. I iiat work gave me the shivers. I turned to the Bible, and read part of the Book of Job and laid it m If I "« i III- lit ;|. Stringtown on the Pike was dark, ^rv dart JI r "'>' '"''"■•atory. I, me to go then and to go here Lthr°"°"' '""P"'^'' I took out the reagents Z \t. ^ ^"^ "^ ™>' ''O''™. carefully verified The aeln' T"""^^ "l"''' ""'' 'hat are authority on X'Tu ■ ' "'^""^ '^' '^ks pages word by word 1^17""^' ""'' «"«=<' 'he then w.th n.y'hH t^e ,"f ^ ^I ' ^'°°'' '" '"-ght^ " If there be'error in th s C^i^^^^ ^P""^' ''^' ^ >r= at fault, not I. But »-hv should 7 ''°"'' >''"' I a disciple in science ""f/*™" ^ "J-^tion ; am not "ot the chrome action „f ',^1 '""'" '"''"'"•''' ^' tainties in chemistry rVvL^v"' "^ "" «- tested you," I said ,jj ■ ^°'"' h'tterness have I But still a ouL postsl r'"^ "' "'""<' '>=f°- -e. "ct have been haT/po LesTe J 'T'^:°r' 'hat would 'arge, pure crystals of rvThli^r"^ ''^"" " "''"i" been a question in face of ,t ' "'"' "■°"''' '' have hfe been at stake. I raised ^h T' '"^ "° ''"™" of the opening, the scattered tC7s::'' 'T' ""' falling struck my heated fo„h j "^ '^^' *"« "ngle with each Ly contact ?hl 'T"'"^ ' P'^^'""' i"g, for my brain was hot n>.^ ""■""' "'"'"''- '■"gs in the Univrr tv lu^d 7r '"^ "''"' l""W- heyond, for my "'l IT" ' "''' "'"^ "«= "untry second story and per^iS"'"''. ^'' ^""«=<' '" 'he Across U.e l,d ofTw^t - ™" 5 '"^ <"«-«• V ^-Jo„ ^«,„c then a stream of 342 ap- Susie Pleads for Red-Head moving lights ; the night train from the South w proaching, and I watched it until the animated creation disappeared from view behind the building, and next I heard it whistle for the station. Feeling better now, for the cool air and the diversion of thought had re- laxed my nerves and soothed my brain, I turned again to my task, determined to go once more with great care over the work and end it. I do not know how many mmutes I devoted to the manipulation _ it must have taken half an hour — when came a ring of the bell of the outer door. I rais^-H the window, and saw by the feeble light of the trans jeneath that two figures stood just outside the entrance. Two of my friends, 1 con- jectured, and with this thought in mind spoke : " Open the door — it is not locked —and follow the lighted hall to my room, No. 13. You need not knock, open the door and enter." Again I turned to the tube I held in my hand prepa- ratory to the final test, my back to the door, and was thus employed when it opened. A voice I once knew so well, but had thought never to hear again, spoke : " May I come in. Dr. Drew ? I would speak to you." I turned my head. There stood Susie, and behind her, in the background, appeared the familiar face of old Cupe. I replaced the tube in the rack and next ex- tended my trembling hand to the girl. « Susie," I said, as I asked her to be seated, « this is unexpected." Unintentionally I glanced at the clock ; the girl's eyes followed mine. "It is late. Professor Drew. I felt that, but the train was behind time, and I must return early to-morrow morning." She spoke reservedly. " Please be seated," I said, for she had not yet taken the proffered chair. But she made no movement. Standing before me, she gazed straight into my eyesj 343 .'f, Stringtown on the Pike but which, lot encTs 'd „ "^ T" ''"" ^"PP''"-''. »igbt or .; .4crrc:i;roCr;:r„tt t '^ u Tr • ' ' ™S a favour." Ifm my power, you need o„]y ask it." -'"-;;:?, je:h^f;::ir.'^^'"^<'-"Msuw.o ''pri::rrr-;:<<'---.bi,.," Co:n.^^L7oS~r^ 'o -% ^erore .he professional chemist by doing lo " ^ "^ " "' " hare^'pLted "^ 'grt? ,: '"^ij ^ -^' ^^ ^-^r ^ou self-ambition than y^ourjord fo ^e" " "' """' '°'" 2 1 cannot brealc my contract." chem,st ,s not an honour to scienci! T Tu ?''"' 1.= values his reputation, to dXe to II "•"' '' P« in this or any o.h;r cas;':hi,e°cr„':v,^"„ "r;! 344 Susie Pleads for Red-Head now and chemists make themselves partisans for the side that pays them. Tell him that I say keep away from Stringtown during the coming Court session.' " " The judge has spoken too late, and you come too late, Susie. I am powerless. See " — I pointed to the apparatus about me — « for days have I worked on this Stringtown poison case, have recorded the results, am ready to testify to the facts. I must go to that Court ; duty calls me." ._ « And so by means of these glasses you have estab- lished the nature of events that once occurred in String- town. A man you have not seen for years has died, and you propose to swear concerning the cause of his death ? " « Yes." " And may I ask, do the sign-glasses augur good to the living, or is the omen such as to lead you to String- town to swear a man onto the gallows ? " " Susie, this is not sign lore, this is science. Long since I wiped out of my nature those superstitious signs and omens of which you speak, but which have now no credence with me. This is science, I say, and science speaks unerringly concerning that which is ; she tells, too, of things that have passed and predicts those yet to come." " But you did not answer my question. Do the glasses say that Mr. Nordman died of poison ? " " Yes ; but I beg you to keep the fact to yourself. I should not tell you this." The girl dropped on her knees. " No ! I say no ! he was not poisoned ! " All her composure, her irony, her sarcastic tone of voice, vanished. She wrung her hands, and kneeling thus apptared for the first time a pleading >yoman, with the heart motions of a woman. « No^ 345 M If 1 '1 1 i r Stringtown on the Pike swL?::7A^ "^ " "-^^ "« P°-". "cn if , our science " Compose yourself, Susie " cardie rs.:^;,:! "ZL^-zi "° °^'^^ ^^-'•- our people as yourlords t ^2 or an^ ""^ ' t' °' they may do. Sav that vn. i'. ^"^^ii^"'^^ them as this favour ! " ^ ^°" ^'" "°' ^^o'^e : grant me " I cannot." accord told Z tlfarif ^v et T^' ""^ °' ^'"" °«" -,ed .his flower ,he Lour sCul " '' T '"' P- -er i. „,ay be and wl^ere.e fsZt^l""''- ' ^''«- nave but to asit ' r l,. ^' J""" said, « you -y knees I b4 .'ou to STe""" "' '°^"' -" °" long before yl contracted t J M^rX '"''' '"^ '''' him the signs in the glasses. Is no/ ,L"'" li" '''"' ^°'- n-e -n the years that have passed « T"* «'"" '° contract you made but a 1^ ys^arrV' ,"■' '=S'' drop this Case, to come no. ,„ I ^ I =slc you to next term of C^rt. Believe in „,7rr ^"""« "'- my pleadings before you d„ he , ' ^^ ^""'' '"'<" you read in these tubel and ve sels ^ r ^nd omens that breath, consciousness and love Tk .'"' ' '""'= Insensible. Will vou notTi; " ™''* "^= " "^ "'^°"> ^'Y have ^r^^o^:'^:^:!-::^ i^, f -a. and applied .he test before her eves "" "'*"' Dropping the withered flower on the floor, she arose »ik( if your science other chemist ress a jury of )nise them as >e / grant me 'er and took "When we ucicy the day of your own ^ur and pre- -d. 'What- u said, ' you wer, and on ade the girl to read for ■^ given to IS the Jegal ask you to during the w; accept •mens that i'e, I have ! are dead, re that of say have See, that the vessel she arose Susie Pleads for Red-Head and placed her foot upon it. " And this you call duty, this breaking of a sacred promi c iven to one who treasured our vords and had no iiope for happiness beyond the bare words you th poke, nnd those other unframed words you wished to iter and which I longed to hear you say. You now Sf.. a^ of duty, but this man- ner of duty that you are acting 1 call murder, for your words will hang an innocent man ! " " Of whom do you speak, Susie ? whom am I to hang by my evidence? " " Do you not know ? " " I do not." "Red-Head. He is charged with poisoning Mr. Nordman, and lies now in the jail of Stringtown County." Suddenly there came into my heart a sensation akin to exultation. Red-Head, my antagonist of former times, my rival yet, charged with murder, and the evi- dent resting in my hands to convict him. Once I had a doubt concerning the reaction for strychnine ; I came this very evening in a questioning mood, for some things concerning the colour were not quite clear; but there was no doubt now. " Susie," I said, and I spoke with deliberation, " do you remember the evening Red-Head held my hands together and sneered in my face, the evening in your home when I told him that never again would I fight him after the manner brutes fight ? Do you recollect that I said the time would come when I could use my brain instead of my fists, and predicted that brain would win ? Do you recollect that ? " The girl no longer shrank from me, she no longer stood in supplication, but with erect head and flashing eye she answered : " And this you call the triumph of 347 ft'/ im fi IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) %. V^' 1.0 1.1 : tn 12.0 11:25 in 1.4 I1& i Ml 1.6 6" 1 iAJIUgidpiJlLi ^Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WR1STIR,N.Y. I4SM (716) 172-4303 o i KS Stringtown on the Pike ui g oy you, the professor of chemistrv in tu: University I The Drisoner !c a "*"""^'^y '" ^^is great a« mn« . P"^''"^'^ 's defenceless, and vet he l« as innocent as he is defenceles.5 wu iT tightens about his throat vour n v '" '^"^ "^^'^^ be estabhshed, you sav God h7 °" "' ' ''^"'^^ ^'" you ! " ^ ^ " confidence to one who trusted " Susie, as sure as the sun ever shon*. J f a glasses?" ncrewas no strychnine in your potions that lea.e no mark =„J ^ " "^ """ promptly. If .Hi, brnot ;' f„/"vt ""' ""* She turned to the ne»r„ .! ,^ ' ^"^ '•"••" h-rd my fearful pledg? "l. 8"^"^ """""" ^'™« other inducements Ln'the pleading of aZ?'- P"""' b. made, to affect a man bound to fcie„ce " *"' ""'" in de grabeya-d dJ V t f °"' ""' '''' "'' "^W" opvd Lbb^eLh": d?L^^;it--- -. nev" h?d"tef sotjci' ^Z *'"" *"" «»'- »"« = -alth been :'ithirm;t.f;''''""" '"'''" ""' "'^'■ r ^„a, „,c ycaj-s ago, and I Susie Pleads for Red-Head bring you here a fee that will exceed many times that paid by the prosecutor of Stringtown County. By right of priority, by right of a sacred promise, by the profes- sional^ touch of gold, I ask that you serve me and not the Commonwealth." " You humiliate me, Susie. I cannot sell myself, you know it." " Take it all, ..nd keep away from our Court. Let the boy live." " I shall go to the Court of Stringtown County and testify to the truth." My eyes were fixed upon her face, my voice was firm and determined. Sue saw that no hope remained. "You will regret this decision, but I now say never shall your evidence hang Red-Head." " But if he is proven guilty ? " " He must not hang. Now I shall seek the man who will listen to the appeal of justice, who can stand between this uncultured country boy and the scaffold. I came to you of my own will, not by the counsel or consent of Red-Head. He defies both you and your art ; he said to me : » Go to the mountains cf Eastern Kentucky, take this letter'" (she drew a letter from her pocket) "*find the man addressed and say to him that Read- Head lies in the jail of Stringtown County, charged with murder that he did not do.' " I reached out my hand ; she did not put the letter into it, but held it before my eyes so that I could read the superscription : Old Man Holcomb, Bald Knob, Kentucky. She turned to depa.t, preceded by Cupe, who bore the heavy package of gold j but before she closed the door I 349 • I il Stringtown on the Pike spoke again : "Susie, the night is dark I « r ^. s^ ...3„r;r.7;fcS;J;t-; I shook my head. " On your own account I plead with vn.. A^ . glasses, ,es, tubes and Lrems I « "h"^"' "^ '"'''" future. regents, I stood questioning the 350 ike Let us forget I not go with Of the dead one last word uman life — fead dies — I t session of i> do not run 5ne with my my beaker stioning the CHAPTER LVIII »* POW'fUL INTERESTIN' story " (l JOHN, III) 'T^HE mountains of Eastern Kentucky, their stores •*• of endless wealth, of mine, of quarry, and of wood, their picturesque knobs and rocks, valleys, tor- rents, brooks and solitudes, must one and all be seen to be appreciated. There are taller mountain chains than these, and larger ones, too ; grander canons are to be seen in the Yellowstone and along the Colorado, and in the Rockies rise higher bluffs of black and red stone. No lava beds in these Kentucky mountains speak of volcanic action, no volcanic peaks cc.ie the sky. The Laurentian chain of Canada bears endless tear-bound firs, these do not ; there is no other Tacoma than the one which in Wash- ington State glitters in the sunlight and commands homage from both the ocean of waters on the west and the ocean of sand on the east. And yet while bluff and ice and snow and fire and lava are not in the Kentucky Mountains as they are elsewhere, charms there are which no other chains possess. The girl who pleaded with the University professor for the life of Red-Head was now traversing these moun- tain wilds on the back of a mule. Faithful Cupe trudged on foot by her side. For some days they had been beyond the track even of mountain wagon wheels. The bluffs were either overhanging above or precipitous below, but always present. The stream.s were often hank-full so that in order to progress long circuits were necessary i 35 1 Wl H lii m u SB. »B'' :i 1 f 1 1 1 ' s i Stringtown on the Pike but still she kept on her way, preceded by a young man, who spoke but little ajid seemed concerned only in reach- mg his destination. At last they neared a deserted cabin, windowless and roofless. The chimney had fallen the logs were decayed and the mud chinking between them had disappeared. A brook ran in the gulch near it, while behind stretched a rock-clad hog-back hill that separated this brook from the stream beyond. Hitching their horse in the ravine where ran the trail, the young mountaineer tramped a path to the site of the old cabin the girl following. ' "Here's the place," he said, "but et ain't no great The girl stood a moment looking at the scene of deso- lation, and as she did so her mind reverted to the String- town schoolhouse and to the story of the feud related by the Red-Headed Boy. The door was gone but frag- ments of the casing still hung by two beaten iron nails and the rests for the iron bar that once held the door were yet in place in the logs beside the doorway. She seated herself on the heavy timber sill. Her eyes fell to the projecting log by her side. A dark blue piece of metal, partly coated with a white crust, was imbedded in the end of it, a piece of metal from which the wood had partly rotted away. With her fingers she scraped the soft wood mould from about it, and then raised from its resting-place a flatleMcd weather-corroded minie bullet around which still were to be seen the creases that oncJ held the cartridge shell in place. A shudder came over her J she dropped the fragment into her pocket and raised her eyes; there in the trail below them, the muzzle of a long gun m his hand, stood a grizzled old man looking intently at that picturesque scene — the beautiful girl seemmgly so out of place in the doorway of those ruins. 352 th< "PowYul Interestin* Story" At this instant the young man caught sight of intruder. " Thct 's him." " Who ? •• " Old Holcomb." The girl arose and started back along the trail, this time preceding her companion, back toward the tall man. His form was lank and uncouth, his hair thin and white, his face covered with a crop of beard that had been roughly trimmed with the scissors. He did not speak, nor did the girl until she stood close beside him. « Are you Mr. Holcomb ? " " I 'm Holcomb." " I came to bring you a message." " From who ? " "An enemy." " I hain't but one, an' he 's a coward." The girl's eyes flashed, her fists clenched hard together, the bullet in her pocket burned the flesh it pressed against She took it out and held the disfigured mass of lead before his face. « He was n't coward enough to shoot an ounce of lead through a four-year-old child." Not a movement did the man make. His eye pierced her through, but she did not flinch. " An' who be yo' ter tell Holcomb this; 'dy want ter wedge inter the feud ? " " Never mind who I am. I know who you are and what you did. But I did not seek you to talk over these things. I came to deliver a message." She took from her pocket the letter she had already shown to Professor Drew, and held it out. Taking it, but without opening it, the man asked : « An' hev /o" come fur ? '"' '' 353 ill 4 Stringtown on the Pike " From Stringtown." .h ".^°' ""'' g'^ ^^"^^ t^*- Hawley's claim tcr-night an» het s the nearest stoppm'-placc. Yoah shoes 'a 'th.n an yo a,r sh.venn' like a young lamb in sleety weather go croEt the divide ter my cabin, an' we '11 settle tK, Thes. words were spoken in a kindly tone, and the pr realised that he told the truth, but'^she k^ew ,» that excitement, not cold, was responsible for her shi!^. ■ng. Mounting their horses, the two travellers o lowed the old man to his home. """wca wT f '. ^^ '^' '"'*^'' '°"g '" '^'^ hands, turning t about and eyeing it curiously. « Guess yo '11 hev tef >t to the girl, who complied, reading as follows : HoLcoMB .. I 'm Red-Head. I didn't come back rcr the moun'n, ter finish the feud 'cause I promised Susie not ter fifht essen she married Drew. Then I '[ended ter whip Drew fit an shoot yo' next But I can't do either, fo' Pm in ja Drew s got the pull too. an' lessen I git help he 'JI h ng m^ fo kilhn' a man I didn't kill. I •„, not a pizoner. an' yo' knowet I'm not a coward, an' yo' know et: What I wants ^ fo yo ter come ter Stringtown an' keep me from bein' hun« You am't much ov a friend, but yo 've got grit an' ^ot ,^nf * an' kin shoot an' thet's the kini ov a'frieS /"ne d "v^ Yo know et'ud disgrace the family yo' fought fer an' the family you fought, fer me ter be hun/, an' I mussenfbe hu g Ef yo'll come, tell Susie, 'n she'll tell me. Come ter the' Stnngtown County Court an' stop the hangin' an' end the Red-Head. When the girl ceased reading Holcomb took the letter 354 "Pow'ful Interestin' Story" and scrutinised it again. Evidently his thoughts were not altogether in the present, for after a period of silence he musingly remarked : " Ef he 's like his kin, et 's the truth he told when he said thet he 's not a coward. Them war a brave family, an' grit, else thar 'd been mo'ah'n one Holcomb livin'." Turning to the girl, he said abruptly : " I 've sot in this old cabin nigh onter twenty years waitin' fer Red- Head. I 've watched the trail in winter an' laid in the shade in summer fightin' sketers an' flies an' keepin' my eyes on the path ter git the drop on him befo' he seed me. But he didn't come. Then I thunk thet he'd turned coward, but no moun'n Nordman ever showed the white feather ; 'n he said too when he left : » Tell Holcomb I '11 be back when I kin handle a Springfield gun.' An* when I seed yo' two a-ridin' up the gulch I felt monstrous good, fer I thought p'raps he 'd come back, but without his moun'n manners, fer no moun'n man in a feud would hev rid in the open like yo' "d. An' I saw yo' tramp up ter the old cabin an' sot dov/v an' pick the bullet out ov the log. Then yo' saw me, fer I seed thet black-ha'red feller war not Red-Head, an' stepped inter sight." The girl shuddered, and the speaker said : " Sit closer ter the fire, little one; I'm pow'ful sorry fer sech squeemish buds es yo' be." Then he asked: "Red- Head 's in jail the writin' sez ? " "Yes." " Fer killin' a man ? " « Yes." " War et on the square ? " « He did not kill him. Mr. Nordman died suddenly, and Red-Head was charged with giving him poison." Holcomb sat in silence a time, and then spoke in 355 i ;i i Stringtown on the Pike reverie: -An' he axes help from Holcomb, me who wanted to shoot him befo' 1 died, me who killed hU father an' h.s mother an' his little sister, me who hev l.ved alone .n thjs cabin fer twenty years beca'se his gun but me Lt s a shame thet sech a family cs his'n an' sech a family es our'n should be disgraced by the puttin' ov one ov 'em m jail fer pizonin'. I hates Red^Head VI V': ''"^' ^"* ' "^"^^ »- «»'-^ him pow'ful much, but ef he g.ts hung we can't fight et out." Turn- nig to the g.rl again, he asked : ^^ Are yo' sure thet he aid n t pizon the man ? " knl! ^r^.^l^}'^ "°'- "' '^°''" ^° •"'^ °" Ws bended knees that he did not, and —he loves me." " An' yo' loves him ? " " I am his friend." "Chick "-and the old man reached out his lank hand and gently stroked her hair -"chick, Holcomb IS awful sorry fer you-uns, fer Holcomb es boundTer kill thet boy." Then he mused again « Child If Holcomb Ml swar' off the feud, an 'll'go "er S^inlw an' save Red-Head, will yo' many Re'd-Head an' move ter the moun ns ? " The girl covered her face with her handkerchief. P AU f Ho'comb'Il make over his property ter nrmt..^" ^°''^^^^^°'"^'"^'^^«-^°/^% The girl made no reply, but sobbed quietly " Thar ain't no use in sayin' nuthin' mo'ah; you-uns understands we-uns, an' yo' may go back ter Stringtown an say ter Red-Head these words: » Old Holcomb says says he, thet he'll be on hand when the day comes fer' business, an' that he'll save the honour ov the two familil one way ernuther/ Now cfr,.. ve jr- r ? " P >^^ »-'/in > iitile one, ter 356 <*Pow'fui Interestin' Story" thar ain't no danger ov the shame ov hangin* come'n ter Red-Head." When " early candle-light " appeared, which was the time for retiring, Holcomb brought an antiquated book from out the cupboard, a copy of a Bible that had once been much used. " Et have been many a day sense a woman sot in this cabin. Thet 's the Bible ov my gran'mam, whose great gran'mam brought et from Inglan*. After she died et war read by my wife every night, an' war being read by her that night when Red-Head's dad shot through the winder 'n killed our boy, who wah pow'ful religious, too." He turned the leaves of the book, evidently seeking a certain chapter, but as he could not read, Susie wondered how he ex- pected to locate it. Suddenly he stopped. " Thet 's the place now." A great brown blot of irregular shape was splotched over one of the yellowed sheets. " Thet 's the blood ov the boy. Mam never finished the chapter, she could n't b'ar ter look at the place ag'in. I 've wanted ter hev et read out fer twenty years, fer et 's a pow'ful interestin' story. Ef yo' '11 jest read the chapter out we '11 hev ^ lyers, an' then yo' kin go ter bed in the nex' room." And when Susie had finished reading the " pow'ful interestin' story " ( i John, iii.) Holcomb said : " Them 's my sentiments too," then kneeled and offered up prayers in a homely way that spoke of his earnestness and faith in the teachings of his parents. "Now, chick," said Holcomb, "yo"ll sleep in the nex' room, 'n this young feller 'n me '11 sleep in this 'n. The nigger kin go ter the outside cabin." " Ef yo' please, sah, Mr. Holcom*, de nigger '11 jes lie down befo' de doah ob de room de chile sleeps in. He doan 'tend ter run no risk ob cotchin' cole in de wood- 357 i! 11 f t» Stringtown on the Pike •hed, an* he doan 'tend ter hab dc chile in one house an* Cupe be in dc uddah. vj j^ Susie gearl speaks in de night, Cupe '11 be in his place befo' de doah." Next morning the three persons, old Holcomb in front, returned along the mountain trail. AH day long, with his heavy rifle over his shoulder, the old man con- tinued in the advance j finally, near sundown, he relin- quished his charge to a man who stood before a double cabin near the road, and who in some manner had been advised of their approach and was expecting them. " Yo Ml stop fer the night ha'ar, an' in the mornin' he 'II see yo* ter tl^e next stop. Thar ain't no danger ter yo' in these moun'ns now, fer Holcomb hev passed the word 'long thet yo 're his friend an' air ter be shown ter the stage line. Et 's sure death ter the feller what troubles yo'." Taking the hand of the girl in his rough palm, the old man again stroked her hair with the other, as he had done i.' the cabin, gently, tenderly ; then in a low tone, very low, said: "An' yo Ml name the first boy Holcomb, won't yo', jest fer the honour ov the two families, an' fer the sake ov the old man who hain't no kin left ter leave his name to ? " Then without waiting a reply, he added : " Tell Red-Head ter rest easy, fer Holcomb '11 be on hand an' stop the hangin' sure ; ef thar ain't one way ter do et, thar air another ; thar '11 not be no disgrace of hanging on yo-uns an' we-uns, child." He turned and left the party in the hands of their new protector, and in the dusk of evening passed from sight up the gorge that led back into the higher mountains. 358 CHAPTER LIX " MORE LIVES THAN ONE MUST GO IF RED-HEAD DIES " THE day arrived for me, the chemist of the Univer- sity, to return to Stringtown on my professional errand, and I decided to start the week previous to the convening of the quarterly Court. Carefully collecting the reagents, apparatus and the specimens of the contents of the suspected stomach, I next fortified myself with my books of authority. These were packed in a specially arranged valise, which, I may add, I Hid not this time lug across the Suspension Bridge which stretched be- tween Cincinnati and Covington. Sleepy old Stringtown was reached at last, and there at the door of our old home stood my mother. She was feeble now — I caught that fact from afar — her hair, too, was very white. I shall ^ay nothing regarding our meeting, which concerns ourselves alone. That even- ing I walked down the narrow sidewalk toward the grocery store of Mr. Cumback, meeting a few old friends on the way and several strangers. I opened the door of the grocery, the door against the glass of which years before I had seen the white face of a rebel soldier press } that very pane of glass was in place, for I recog- nised it by a well-known blemish across its centre. A circle of men sat around the old stove, and Mr. Cum- back stood behind the counter. Most of the members were new to me, although three of the old-time partici- 359 il i ii * Stringtown on the Pike pants were present. But how changed ! Judge Elford was grand in his venerable, patriarchal appearance, very feeble but his intellectuality had not diminished ; white was every thread of his beard and of his flowing hair. He arose as I entered and grasped my hand ; his eye pierced me through, but very kindly was that eye- greeting. " Welcome back to Stringtown, Sammy," he said ; " these years we have been expecting you on old friendship's account, but now that you come on profes- sional business we are not less delighted to greet you. You honour us, my boy. We have kept watch of your upward course, and hope that you will never forget that your land is Kentucky, that you were once a Stringtown boy, and that here you have many friends." Then Irofessor Drake took his turn, giving my hand a gentle grasp. " Sorry you did not come last night, Mr. Drew, for I read a paper on evolution and talked about that very interesting subject. You could have given us much information concerning it. Don't fail to help your old friends by a good word, Samuel, whenever occasion permits it." * 360 CHAPTER LX TROUBLE IN STRINC WN COUNTY COURT TUDGE ELFORD arose, and locking his arm in *f mine moved toward the door, as he did so excusing both of us to the circle. " Mr. Drew will return an- other evening," he remarked. " I would speak to hirn in the quiet of my home to-night." Something in the tone of his voice led me to know that he wished to talk seriously in private, and as if to impress the fact more emphatically, we walked in si'ence to his home. " Did you notice the tall, white-haired man who left the room before we did ? " he abruptly asked. "Yes." " That man has been in Stringtown for a week. He stops at the tavern, but has no business here, unless it be in connection with this case in which you are con- cerned. He has been asking questions of all kinds re- garding Red-Head and yourself, and has inquired into every detail of the poisoning affair. He has interested himself in Red-Head's record since he came among us as a boy. That he is not alone is shown by the fact that many uncouth men call to see him, but they soon depart. The rumour has gotten out that he is a friend of Red-Head, from the mountains, and that a scheme for the boy's rescue is contemplated." " And how am I concerned, Judge ? " " That I shall now tell you, Sammy. Would to God 361 .?' Stringtown on the Pike you had kept out of this case ! You were asked to re- main away from Stringtown until after Court week were you not ? " His eyes were upon me. "Yes." " And the messenger told you that such was also mv desire and advice ? " ^ " Yes." « Did you forget that twice you promised to follow my advice when the time arrived for me to serve you by asking you to grant me a favour ? " I made no reply. " As a judge, sworn to do the duty of a judge to this great Commonwealth of Kentucky, I could not well do more. As a friend to you, I could not do less. Why did you not take the advice of your two friends ? " Be- fore I could answer, had I any reply to make, he contin- ued : Ugly things are being said in Stringtown. The people of Stringtown County, too, are concerned in this case, more so even than when old Cupe was tried for stealing the gold. There are factions among us, and some viciousness begins to creep out ; not that Red-Head has made friends, but that this thing of sending outside the State for an expert to testify against one of our citi- zens is an innovation." « But why do they accept that my testimony will be against him ? " " Because you are engaged by the prosecution, and people believe that chemical experts sell their evidence and give their testimony to support the claims of the side that engages them ; and," he added, « it also seems to me that expert chemical testimony is not always on the highest moral plane." " But I surely found strychnine, Judge j should I not give my evidence ? " 362 Pike were asked to re- Court week, were 5uch was also my omised to follow e to serve you by f a judge to this ould not well do t do less. Why friends ? " Be- make, he contin- ringtown. The roncerned in this pe was tried for among us, and t that Red-Head sending outside one of our citi- testimony will )rosecution, and their evidence aims of the side : also seems to : always on the should I not Trouble in Stringtown Court " It is now too late to retreat, and for this reason I would speak to you in confidence, Sammy. Your father was my friend ; you need advice, as I once felt you might, and even though I am to be the judge of this case, I am in duty bound to give it." « You have my thanks for your interest, and I regret now that I did not take the hint you sent by Susie." " Had I not believed that you would listen to her pleadings, I might have made it stronger, but it is now too late. Sammy," he continued, " are you satisfied con- cerning the chemical provings you have made ? " " I am." " Is it not probable, or at least possible, that you place too great credence in statements made by authorities in whom you confide ? " " No, for I have verified the reactions." " May not conditions unknown to you induce other bodies than strychnine to give the same reactions ? " " Positively not." " Are you " — he hesitated slightly — " proof against prejudice that on the one hand binds you to blind confi- dence in scientific methods, and on the other hand leads you to desire to help the side that secured your services ? " I winced, for I felt the thrust even through the kindly tone of the judge. " I am a man of science, and free from prejudice." " The faith you men of science have in human au- thority, and the sneers you cast on the Supreme Ruler, and the dogmatic conclusions of men who search in fields your science is too feeble to invade, seem to me very near man-worship or egotistical fanaticism. Sir" — he spoke severely now — "I fail to see the difference between your blind allegiance to ever-changing science and the fanatical faith of a superstitious slave bound to 363 m rf^Y' I I lit W\ isi 't Stringtown on the Pike signs and omens, which result from the empirical obser- vat.o„ of cycles of phenomena; but let that thought pass and^turn to your own self. Are you free from human aJ.7rnV" '!"'»"''"' ^°' ^ *''"' Sone over the reactions agam and again. « Enough, Sammy, enough ; would that I, too, felt this same confidence in man's infallibility and in the sci ence that holds you in her toils. I am L old man, my child, and have met many dramatic and pathetic experi- ences. I have seen men shot in the heat of passion, and have sentenced men to the gallows on the testimon^ of witnesses who saw the plunge of the knife or the flash of the pistol held by the murderer. But never yet hat 1 been forced to condemn a man to the gallows on the evidence of a person who was in anothef State at the time of the murder, who not only did not see the crime committed, but who knew nothing about its occurrence! And, Samm,-, while duty to the Commonwealth will not permit me ever to shrink from doing my duty to man and men, in all earnestness I pray God to strike' me dead before on the expert testimony of Samuel Drew I am forced to hang this boy Mark well your words, Sammy ; on them rests a human life. A defenceless man to whom life IS sweet lies now in the Stringtown County jail, - Z hr°"i7. T.'"f" ^^' '^^ '■'g'^* ^xnX^^Uy o take Tn/t I ^u"\^^"' '°°' '""^ P-'^'- °f your old friend, the judge, who begs you to err on the side of hu- ence IS mfallible. Give this helpless man the benefit of eveiy doubt, whether it humiliates your science, disturbs your dogmatism, or checks your ambition. In after years you will find that you have made no mistake " 1 arose to go, arose without conceding that there was 364 ■r the reactions Trouble in Stringtown Court a chance for me to err or relent. At the door the judge held my hand long, and after bidding me good-bye said, m the most earnest tone I had ever known him to use : " God grant, Samuel Drew, that you do not cause me to hang an innocent man; "and after I had passed from his door he called me back. " Sammy, there will be trouble next week ; bear up bravely, dare to do right even though it be at ambition's expense. Sammy," and his voice sank very low, almost to a whisper, as his lips ^oke into my ear, « keep what I say in confidence. The old man you saw leave the grocery is named Hol- comb ; he came to me last night and I drew up his will. He left all his possessions, both real and personal, to Red-Head and Susie, share and share alike; but said he, »In case Red-Head dies — and he may die suddenly, but will never be hung — it must all go to the girl Susie.' There Ml be trouble in Stringtown County Court next week, Sammy." I attempted to withdraw my hand, but the speaker firmly held it and continued: " This is Kentucky, not Ohio ; Kentucky, Sammy." From the door of Judge Elford I turned with heavy heart and lagging footstep toward the home of my mother, realising now that the coming week would bring a death crisis to some one I knew, and for the first time I appreciated tb '*_ct that I was not a mere onlooker. These closing words were in my mind when I raised my eyes from the ground because of a step that sounded on the stones ahead of me. A tall form came into the moonlight, passed me close and disappeared behind me. It was the old man from the mountains. I 365 ,■1 *, CHAPTER LXI SUSIE, RED-HEAD, AND MYSELF AGAIN 'T^HE morning of the trial dawned, and I entered the -^ special bus that had been engaged to take two attorneys, the judge, a few close friends of these gentle- men -a few jurymen among them — aiJ myself to Court. It was the way that I had passed to the trial or Lupe. I looked neither to the right nor to the left as we passed through the village, but followed Judge Elford to the court-house, where I felt a sensation of relief as I entered the portals of that stone building, with its great round pillars in front and its iron-barred jail in the rear. 1 then held my final audience with the prosecuting attorney, and at last stepped into the court-room of btnngtown County. The judge sat in his place exactly as he did when r u!T/^""' y^^'' ^So, in that same seat. Time had enfeebled him physically, but not mentally, for that fine mtellectual face and placid brow were surely the more impressive by reason of the lines that age had deepened, and by the touch of brighter silver left in his snow-white beard and hair. The jury was in its place, its members typical of the former jury before which in this veiy room I had been a witness ; some of them may have been the same indi- viduals. Before each man stood that ever-present box of sawdust, and from the movement of their jaws or the 366 Susie, Red-Head, and Myself pouched cheek it could be seen that none needed to be instructed concerning the object of these utensils. I seated myself by the side of the prosecuting attorney, and then raised my eyes to the chair where sat the man charged with murder, the very place and apparently the same chair in which Cupe once sat. His hair was red as of yore, sorrel-red, like no other hair I had ever seen ; his eyes were fixed on my face, those same little yellow eyes ; his red ears and that florid face covered with freckles, were before me again, lanker and longer was that crimson neck. I looked him square in the eye, and then my glance, not his, fell to the floor, but not before I caught a glimpse of a gentle movement of the left ear, the mocking movement familiar in other years, and I knew that he yet defied me. When next I raised my eyes they caught the form of the sheriff^, who with a brace of pistols in his leather belt stood close to the prisoner, and then I turned to the audience. The room was filled with men, and no one needed to tell me they were from both near and far. I recognised many Stringtown men, 1 also saw many whom I felt were men of Stringtown County, and there, too, sat the tall man from the mountains of Kentucky. In full view of the prisoner, neither seemed to notice the other. He was flanked on either side by a line of men dressed in the same manner as himself; indeed, I should say that he formed the central figure of a group distinct from our home folks, but they seemed not to know each other. And then my eyes turned toward the front row, scanning each face until they rested on that of one I had not thought to meet again in the Court of String- town County. There sat Susie, her eyes fixed on space. My heart fluttered I wished thr^i instead 367 ■ 11 V i I Stringtown on the Pike of sitting by the prosecutor I were in the place of old negro Cupe, who sat by her side. Then came a mental inventory, and by a mind-flash I saw that we three Susie, Red-Head and myself, were once more con- frontmg one another and our fate ; and I saw too, that seemmgly we had drawn into the turmoil all who both loved and hated us, and it seemed to me as though, be it superstition or not, every condition necessary to a tragic end of one or all was now perfected. I knew the nature of the men about, I knew that many men had but to put their hands inside their coats to defend their honour or their friends, and I realised, too, that every man present knew both his enemy and his friend; but no evidence of this fact could be seen in face or action. I hen I turned again to Judge Elford, he whom every man in the room respected, he who stood now before all this assemblage sworn to sift the right from the wrong, and who I knew — for he had told me so — believed that before this case closed some of those present would have seen their last of earth. The case opened in the usual way, and interest soon centred in the evidence that came rapidly before the Court and jury. The prosecution announced that it mtended to prove that poison was the cause of Mr. Nordman's death and that the drug had been purchased by the prisoner, and administered by him to the victim. To this the attorneys for the defence interposed a denial, feebly it seemed to me, although it is possible that being m the dark concerning the nature of the evidence to be offered, they could not in opening make their denial stronger. As the trial progressed it could be seen that the judge proposed to confine both parties to a strict statement of fact, for every attempt to interject side issues or to go into personalities was skilfully defeated 368 Susie, Red-Head, and Myself by his rulings, and yet the day passed before the prose- cutor was ready to call me as a witness. Eveiy step was tenaciously combated by counsel for the defence, who, as the theory of the prosecution unfolded itself, became aggressively violent and left no stone unturned in his attempt to discredit a witness or cast a doubt on the evidence. When time for adjournment came that night, the prosecution had proven : First. That Red-Head and Mr. Nordman had quar- relied a few days previously to his death. It was shown that, out of patience with his indolent habits, Mr. Nordman had that day scolded him for not work- ing. The witness who testified to this stripped tobacco in Mr. Nordman's barn and heard every word of the altercation, and also heard Red-Head swear that he would be revenged. Second. The village druggist testified that he sold Red-Head one-eighth ounce of strychnine. His book of poison sales on which the entry had been made and dated was produced and admitted as evidence. The prisoner had stated that the strychnine was for Mr. Nordman, who desired to put it in the carcass of a lamb that had been killed by foxes, which latter he hoped to kill when they returned to feed, the coming night. Third. The servants testified that Mr. Nordman arose in good health the morning of his death, ate a light breakfast, as was his habit, and that Red-Head alone breakfasted with him. Very soon thereafter he was stricken with a severe pain in the stomach, and then they gave him a dose of laudanum and called the physician. Fourth. The physician testified that he found Mr. Ncrdman in great pain, muscular convulsions having set in and paralysis of the legs. He administered an emetic, ^4 369 i il fl? Stringtown on the Pike to which, however, the patient did hot fieely respond. In reply to a direct question of the prosecutor, the wit- ness said that the case presented all the symptoms of strychnine poisoning. This closed the evidence of the day, and I was In- formed by the prosecution that my testimony would be taken immediately after Court convened the next morning. 370 CHAPTER LXII " THE FEUD IS OVER, HOLCOMB " 'T^HAT night I awoke often, for in my ears rang ■■• again and again the words of Judge Elford : "You will hang the prisoner, Sammy." That sentence still dominated my mind when Court convened next morning; bu. when I looked at the pre- siding judge no evidence of emotion on his part could be seen ; passive and composed he sat looking about the room, apparently as unconscious of personal responsibility as any of the spectators. I seated myself by the side of the prosecutor and proceeded to arrange my specimens, reagents and the apparatus. The eyes of all in the Court were now concentrated on me, even to that of the prisoner, who, scarce ten feet distant, sat beside the armed sherifF. Seemingly absorbed in manipulative operations, I yet noticed every movement of those about me ; from time to time I raised my eyes only to catch the fixed gaze of whomsoever they rested on, whereso- ever thcv turned — jurymen, sherifF, attorney for the prosecution and for the defence, Holcomb from the mountains, Cupo, Red-Head and Susie, all — all I say but one, Judge Elford. He seemed unconcerned regard- ing either my presence or my movements. That he awaited my convenience I knew, and that this famous case had drawn itself down and had focussed Itself on me I also knew. Amid iiiiciise stillness, friend and foe, faction, feudist, judge, prisoner and jury were 371 is i< ■ n ! I! I Stringtown on the Pike awaiting my voice. I turned my eyes to the jury ; not a mouth was in motion, firm set were each pair of jaws never before had such a thing been known in Kentucky! The last touch was given the vessels before me, and then I whispered to the attorney by whose side I sat : " I am ready," and raised my eyes to the face of the judge, who, catching the movement, without awaiting voice to' bid him open the Court, bade me arise. A strange inno- vation did he then make, an innovation that struck me to the heart ; for instead of turning me over to the clerk to be sworn,>as had been done with all other witnesses, he too arose, and before him I held up my hand, and from him came in deep, measured tones the question of that solemn oath: "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth ? " " I do." My voice startled me. If any man who reads these lines could have been in my place, he too would have been startled by that first word. The past, with its pre- sentiments and omens, now crystallising into form the midnight pleadings of the girl I loved, the solemn advice of Judge Elford, yet were in my ear. The ominous circle before me, the doubt concerning the reception of my testimony, and lastly the pensive face of Susie to my right and the hateful face of Red-Head to my left were enough to dispossess one more experienced. But the sensation that followed these words passed and in the calm that followed I became myself, ready to protect my reputation. I looked at Red-Head ; his gaze was fixed on me; our eyes met, and I saw in them the full measure of hate I felt in my own heart ; and then I said to myself: "If I don't hang that fellow he will shoot me dead when next we meet. If brain does nor conquer now, it will be muscles' turn next." Point by 372 "The Feud is Over, Holcomb" point the prosecution drew from me the statement that I had examined the suspected liquid for all known poisons, both inorganic and organic. And then I was led to the reactions of strychnine and to its location among the poisons. These I gave in detail, the particulars of which need not be repeated, and finally I was asked : "Did you get those reactions from the substance tested ? " " I did." " Have you specimens of the substance ? " « I have." " Can you show the jury and the Court the group test for alkaloids and also the colour of reactions of strych- nine ? " ^ " I can." " I ask, then, that Professor Drew be allowed to cor- roborate his testimony by experiments that will substanti- ate his words ; " and on this point, after a legal battle with the attorneys for the defence, the judge ruled in our favour. Then I made the tests for alkaloids with the group reagents showing the presence of alkaloids. Next I made the respective colour test with morphine which did not respond and then with strychnine which did, each juryman craning his neck close about me in order to get a good view of the purple or blue-violet colour that sprang into existence in that porcelain dish, where the strychnine test was applied, to fade away into green and red. "That is the reaction of strychnine," I said, and proved it by means of a crystal of pure strychnine. Then came the final question : " You swear that you found strychnine in the contents of that stomach ? " " I do," Opposing counsel now viciously assailed me, but to 373 II ^!i 1 '' '' ■lillli ■it 1 ■ill liil Stringtown on the Pike no avail, for I brought forth my authorities and showed that this test was accepted by chemists of the world, and that Fowne, Fresenius, Turner, all considered it conclu- sive, and at last triumphant, I was dismissed. Judge Elford now came down from his chair. « Re- peat the tests that I may see them close," he said. He stood over me, and side by side, both with strychnine and the suspected substance, I gave the test for alkaloids and also the colour test for strychnine. The same violet- blue colour came with both. " Will no other substance produce that reaction ? " " None." " This is a great world ; there are many countries in it J do none of the thousands of forms of vegetation in these various lands act as does this substance?" He spoke into my very ear. " Not to my knowledge. Science says no." « The servants administered a dose of laudanum, and laudanum contains morphine. Is not morphine an alkaloid ? " "Yes ; I have testified to the fact that I also obtained the colour reaction of morphine, but that alkaloid will not give this strychnine reaction. Morphine is present, so is strychnine." "Have you tried this test with every plant, shrub, tree, leaf, root, bark, fruit, that grows ? " " No, sir ! " " Have you tried it with all that grow in Stringtown County ? " «= 5 " No, sir ! " " Have you tried it with all that grow in and about Stringtown village ? " " No, sir ! " " Have you applied this test to every form of herb, 374 at reaction ? " ry plant, shrub, >w in and about f form of herb, "The Feud is Over, Holcomb" fruit, vegetable, grass, leaf, that grows on the farm of the late Mr. Nordman ? " " No, sir ! " " Or in his dooryard ? " " No, sir ! " " Can you, then, in the face of the fact that you have not tested these myriads of other substances, swear that this is strychnine ? " " On the strength of these authorities " — I pointed to my books — « and on my investigations, and on the fact that no other known bodies produce the same reac- tions, I can." " You revived the strychnine crystals, it seems " — he pointed to the microscopic slide. " Yes, sir ! " "Will no other substance produce such needle-like crystals ? " " I know of none to do so and then react as they do." " Would it not have been well to get from the con- tents of that stomach enough of the pure strychnine to kill a rabbit, and show its poisonous action in that way ? " " I had not enough of the material." « You are willing " — and now the judge spoke very slowly and deliberately — « you are willing, then, Samuel Drew, before Almighty God, knowing that on your words hangs the life of a human being, to swear that strychnine, only strychnine, nothing but strychnine, could have produced that reaction ? " « I am." The eyes of the man of justice fell upon his book, and he made a note. I turned my eyes to the prisoner ; he sneered in return. I sought the face of Susie, but no expression other than sadness could be seen. Then the 375 J 'I '! I f I fHi Stringtown on the Pike attorney said, "The witness may be excused," and I turned my gaze upon the floor. After the cross-exam- mation which did not in any way break the force of the evidence the case was ready for the defence, the prosecu- tion having proved : First. Mr. Nordman and Red-Head had quarrelled. Second. Red-Head had bought strychnine of the vil- lage druggist. Third. Mr. Nordman had been suddenly stricken by a severe pain in his stomach, accompanied by paroxysmal muscular corttractions. Fourth. Strychnine was present in the contents of the stomach. But night was on us again, and Court now adjourned. The next day was consumed in evidence for the defence, then came the rebuttal by the prosecution, which right was waived. The fourth morning found the audience in place ; had photographs been taken, the same faces would have been seen in the same places, so far as the persons directly mterested in the case were concerned. I do not like to reflect over the address of the attorney for the defence, who, following the opening speech of the prosecution,' and realising that the evidence was against him, turned all his eloquence in the direction of emotional humanity. He depicted the unfortunate position of the homeless, helpless young man before us. He pictured my conspic- uous place in life ; he drew the sympathies of that audi- ence to the prisoner, and upon me he directed their ill-will and scowls. Hatred flashed from many an eye as he took that little porcelain dish in his hand, and said: " That man comes here from the North, he touches a liquid with a bit of stufl^ and it turns blue-, violet-blue, for an instant. He asks you, men of Stringtown County,' 3;6 "The Feud is Over, Holcomb >» ontents of the to hang a resident of Stringtown County because this blue colour comes in a dish. Kentuckians, did ever Kentucky Court witness such a farce ? When a man plunges a knife into another, a witness may swear to the fact, for that is evidence of fact. When a witness swears that he saw the flash of the gun or pistol, and saw the victim fall, that is competent testimony j but when a man comes from afar and touches a dish with a glass rod, and asks you to hang a Kentuckian because a spot of porcelain turns purple, that is audacious presumption, and IS neither evidence nor testimony. Kentuckians, I swear by all that is holy, that if you become a party to this monstrous crime, a few dollars hereafter will hire a horde of hungry chemists from the North to show a colour in a dish to whoever cares wrongly to gain an in- heritance or wishes to hang an enemy. There will scarcely be time to keep the gallows oiled, so rapid will be the hangings in Kentucky. No rich man will rest in his grave with a whole stomach, for these ghouls will find chemists to swear that all who die are poisoned." Turning to me, he shook his finger in my face. "There sits a man who lived once in Stringtown, who should love his village and his State, but who comes back to. us to hang the companion of his youth. He and the prisoner were boys together, they sat in the same school- house, plai-ed in the same schoolyard, lived in the same village. One is a man, the other a chemist! but I say in all earnestness, that I would rather be the innocent Kentuckian who hangs — the man, my friends — than the renegade who hangs him ! " The attack was vicious, and I realised that his words could move men to violence had no violence been previously contemplated. Why did Judge Elford allow this personal attack, some persons may ask ? It was not his place to prevent the defence 177 I ! Stringtown on the Pike from breaking my testimony by any method possible, and when the attorney was through I realised that, re- gardless of the verdict, I was disgraced in the land of my old home, and I felt, too, that men present were ready, perhaps by violence, to take the part of Red-Head,* should the jury decide that he must hang. But the closing argument of the prosecution modified conditions somewhat, and the charge of the judge to the jury was so clear and comprehensive as to leave no cause of complaint by either party. "The evidence is circumstantial, but it is necessarily so in cases such as this, for those who poison others are never seen to do the act. They are like thugs who lie concealed in the night and deal a man a blow from be- hind. And yet," he added, « not only must the jury be convinced beyond a doubt that the prisoner bought the strychnine, but that strychnine was in the stomach, and that the prisoner administered it. If such has been proven by the testimony offered, the prisoner is as much subject to the severest penalty of the law as though he had fired a bullet into the victim." Much more did this learned man say to those who held the life of the prisoner in their hands ; coolly, im- partially, clearly, was the charge given. After the judge concluded that afternoon the jury retired, and then we sat awaiting their return, — sat until the evening's shad- ows were nearly on us. No longer an object of attention, I changed my place to one of less conspicuity. I drew my chair back into a corner made by the witness box and the prisoner's raised platform, and from that position found that I could observe the entire room, and be less exposed to peering eyes. To my left sat the judge, to my right, in the 378 'ike ■ ithod possible, alised that, re- the land of my tit were ready, of Red-Head, ution modified e judge to the leave no cause is necessarily 5on others are thugs who lie low from he- it the jury be ;r bought the stomach, and ch has been *r is as much is though he to those who ; coolly, im- ter the judge and then we ;ning's shad- ;ed my place • back into a oner's raised hat I could d to peering right, in the "The Feud is Over, Holcomb '* second row of spectators, sat Susie and Cupe, and directly in front of me the prisoner. By his side stood the sheriff with exposed pistols ready for a touch, and beyond these two, nearly in line with them, sat old man Holcomb amid his men from the mountains. When I looked at Red-Head, I could see the sheriff and Hol- comb, for they were all in line and covered by the same field of vision. Buzzing voices broke now upon the ear, for during the recess the tongues of the men of String- town and of Stringtown County were loosed. I fancied, too, that many coats that had been buttoned previously were now open, but this may have been fancy. How would these men take the verdict of the jury in case it was against the prisoner ? What would be their programme ? I looked at Holcomb ; he made no move- ment, nor yet did any of his clan. Red-Head sat impas- sive } Susie's eyes were downcast i Cupe seemed to be asleep ; Judge Elford rested his head on his hand, and tapped the desk gently with a pencil ; the armed sheriff stood upright and still. Then at last came a message to the judge, who sent back an order, and soon the jury filed slowly into the room and stood in line while the foreman presented a folded paper : " We do hereby find the prisoner guilty of murder in the first degree." Thien Judge Elford rose, and as he did so I caught his glance, and so did others, for he swept his eyes about the room, resting them now and then on a face. Finally they turned to the prisoner. « Stand up, prisoner," and Red-Head arose. Slowly, distinctly, the judge pronounced the sentence of death. Had I been the murderer the message could not have affected nor shocked me more. Not a muscle did Red-Head move, not a tremor in his frame, not an 379 fc I v^ In^ ri •In'il la If 1 1 M 1- 1 Stringtown on the Pike evidence of fear or shame did he exhibit. And when the words were spoken, « I do hereby sentence you to be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and may God ^ve mercy on your soul ! " he gave no show of emotion. But I saw h.m glance toward old Holcomb, who then awkwardly arose, a picturesque figure, and amid silence as intense as that in which Cupe figured in this same room many years before, he politely asked of the judge • frie?d% r '^''^ '" ^^^ ^°^' J^^g^ ' Kin L old friend from t^e moun'ns do nuthin' fer the lad ? " " Nothing." "Ef I'll go down ter whar he stan's an' take his place — will yo' let the boy go free ? " " I cannot." lif," h? ? '"^ ''"' """"' y°' """ '" '»»'. " life fer a lite, but M seems ter me thet et ain't fair ter take a " I cannot." ov'lfnV' 'il'"' °r ■■'' '■""■''>'' J'-'S^' ^"' I 'm the last pr;";."^"^ ^■" ' "° ""^^ '" ■"^. "■« ;.,«. __ _ I .1 , f, . that 1 well know." She will npver fQr.><'"«» Tif -,--- 384 A Strange Love-Story "Susie vvill dine with us to-morrow; she has accented ".y .nv,tat on. Cupe brought the note. Th Tat!^ nnse that I had in store for you, but for good reasons f f:vit:Lr- " "' " """' """'"^ "" "feptanc::;:.; . '2-0 coming here to dine with us; are you sure of " Read her answer." " And yet, mother, I cannot believe she will be pleased reprfZ'^rofli'f^'^--''----"'^^^^ " My child, you do not understand women Thev are no, always what they seem to be, nor do they always know themselves. Possibly Susie did not love Red-HeL as you thought she did, and even if i, is true, he w«l now turn to another." I did not reply, for I was perplexed. My mother was no,amatch.maker,and I felt that she wLed onlyt„ undo a wrong that she had previously done the girl and myself. But she did no. know all that I knew ; had she done so she would never have ar^nged a meeti g Th, g'H who came to my laboratory in a winter nieh, and b^ged me ,n behalf of Red-Head to remain awfy from clined to do so, who threw into my face the words " God help you man of science!" and then left me late at ".ght .n that storm to seek the old man in the .Toun lL,s could have no love for me. This my mother did not' know, or she would never have sought to bring us Z gcther beneath her roof. ^ At the expected hour the next day Susie came Self possessed as she had always been, L evidence rf g^f or traces of sorrow were on her face. We talki of ou,er t,mes, of other lands and of current events:"M, I Stringtown on the Pike mother left the room. But still no word did we utter concerning the tragedy through which we had so re- cently passed, or of the incidents in which we had taken part during the years that were gone. But I thought of all these things, and I think she did too, although no mention was made of aught that lay nearest my heart. ^ When the hour for her departure arrived, I turned with her into the way that led back through the pasture toward her home. On the distant fence sat Cupe awaiting his charge, and jvhen he saw us he shuffled on ahead, leav- ing us far behind walking together in the meadow. At last we stood again in the shade just where we stood once before on the crooked narrow path that led through the valley; m the very spot where I had handed her the flower that afternoon long ago. Did she think of that day ? I cannot say, but I know that I did, and impul- sively, as I had done before, I caught her hand. « Susie, when we last met in this valley I stood before you as I do now, pleadingly, but you begged me as a personal favour to ask my mother's permission to finish a sentence that I longed to speak, and this request, in a moment of weakness, I foolishly granted. I asked her consent, as I promised you to do. Yesterday she spoke agam, and I am now free to say all. For I too have waited long." I seized both her hands, pressed them between my own palms and told my story. She looked down into the grassy path, and replied : « I accepted the invitation to your home to-day because I wished you to tell me this that I might answer. It is now too late. It is now too late." "Susie, if it is too late, you have been the cause, not I. I loved you then, I love you now. Is a man's love so light a thing ? " 386 Pike rd did we utter we had so re- ch we had taken But I thought id too, although lay nearest my id, I turned with e pasture toward pe awaiting his on ahead, leav- e meadow. At e we stood once led through the handed her the lie think of that Jid, and impul- hand. ' I stood before ?gged me as a lission to finish s request, in a I. I asked her rday she spoke too have waited them between I, and replied : to-day because answer. It is en the cause, '. Is a man's A Strange Love-Story "Mr. Drew, I am nc coquette, and I have not sacri- heed my womanhood by leading you to express your love for me m order to reject it. I have led you to say what you nave said in order to free you from a hopeless attach- ment. This distress I once saved myself by asking you to wait, as I knew you must wait if you sought your mother's permission to speak. I gave myself this chance, for I wanted to say yes ; I hoped that it might some day be possible for me to say yes, as you have wished me to. But to-day, without any hope whatever, I repeat it is now too late." " Do you love me, Susie ? " "Yes; I will never love anyone else." She had withdrawn her hands from my grasp and stood with downcast eye twirling a leaf between her fingers, then it dropped on the ground. « But you once loved Red-Head ? " "As a friend; misfortune drew us together. We were both homeless. He was nobody but Red-Head I was Susie Nobody. Our sufl^erings and our persecutions were in common. What could I do but cling to him after that incident in the Stringtown school ? He loved me, too, and he also knew that I loved you. Had he not been true to the promise I forced from him by reason of the love he bore me, long since muscle, and not brain, would have won. Had I not pleaded with him, he would, years ago, have done you harm, for murder was in his heart. I loved you, and I saved vou, but I sacrificed myself in doing so. This I also wished to say before you left Stringtown, for I long to have you think kindly of me ; that is why I came to-day to your home, for this purpose I am with you now." " Susie," I said sadly, " I ask your pardon for the words I spoke, for ^"^ • . • unjust things Z^7 Let the past Stringtown on the Pike go. Be my wife; leave Stringtown, with its hateful memories j go with me to the North." "It is now too late, I say, unless" — then she stopped. " Unless what ? " " Unless I, too, learn to be a chemist and become as assured as are you that strychnine killed Mr. Nordman." " With your education for a foundation, two sessions of special application will be sufficient to accomplish you so that you can apply all the tests I used." " And will you be my teacher ? " « Gladly." ' "Will you promise to act toward me as though I were any other student, to neglect me personally, to reprimand me for my awkwardness, and be patient with me in my dulness, to speak no word of love ? " " Yes, if you will it so." " I shall apply for permission to matriculate in your University," she replied. " I shall ask to take a special course in Chemistry, for that alone is what I need to free myself from this suspicion." "And when you are convinced of the accuracy of the tests I used, will you be mine — my wife, Susie ? " " Yes ; I hope it may end that way." " It cannot be otherwise. But women are creatures of deep prejudices and are often controlled by their emotions and not by reason. What if you should not be convinced ? " "You will need my prayers, and shall have them." She slipped her arm into mine, and we walked to her home in silence. She understood me, and at last I understood her. After the parting I retraced my steps toward String- town, and when I reached the spot where she stood 388 ke I its hateful — then she I become as Nordman." wo sessions accomplish IS though I rsonally, to patient with ate in your :e a special t I need to accuracy of , Susie ? " e creatures :d by their should not ive them." ked to her at last I ard String- she stood A Strange Love-Story between the hills I stopped and picked up the leaf dropped at the moment she said, " Never will I love another." I placed it carefully in my note-book, and as I did so a face came from out the thick bushes that close bound the path; so close was it that I could have touched with my finger the intruder. "Ma'se Sammy, de spot fo' de sayin' ob yoah lub speech wah slubrous, but de bush what meets de lebes 'bove yoah head wah a bad omen. De leaf yo' hab picked up am a hoodoo leaf, et am de leaf ob de witch- hazel ; de cunjah woman use et too.'* I saw that Cupe had been concealed in the tangle, and had heard our words. " Cupe," I said, " I tell you again that I care nothing for your omens and charms. Let the witch's leaf work its devilment, Susie and I understand each other. You take good care of your mistress, and I will answer for the safety of the keepsake leaf in my vest pocket." The head of the old negro was withdrawn, there was no reply, and again I turned toward Stringtown. 389 CHAPTER LXIV i( I CAME TO SAY FAREWELL" mm i TN my laboratory in the University on the Hill once -■- more I , became absorbed in work. The past seemed like a dream; it might have been accepted as a dream but for the presence of Susie, who faced me in the classroom when I lectured, who patiently bent over her desk in the hours of study, and who perseveringly stood before her table in the experimental laboratory. She came to her work regularly, and attended to her studies as persistently as though her ambition centred only on the science of chemistry. No word of praise, however, did she get from me, for she gave me no excuse to speak it ; no chance occurred by which I could break my promise of personal neglect; she would not have It, and she knew how to hold me ofF. Strangers were we seemingly to each other, although my coldness was not self-sought. I was the weaker of the two much the weaker; I craved to hold her hand again as I did that evening in the path which led through the witch-hazel bushes, but she gave me no chance. I would surely have broken my vow, I could not have helped breaking it, had she but given me a glance such as she could have given ; but no glance came; she was not cold, nor yet reserved — no, nor indifferent. The same eye that in the valley path led me on to speak of my love now held me aloof. I taught her chemistry as 390 << I Came to Say Farewell " methodically as I did the others ; only that far could I go. No familiar word or pleasantry could I nerve my- self to utter. She knew how to control herself and to manage me ; she was strong and appreciated her power, for more than once when I was determined to ask her to reconsider her course and grant my prayer she gazed into my face, and then my tongue failed. It was silent love on my part, love that made my heart ache and gave me greater pain than ever came from out the hate I cnce bore Red-Head. There came a day when this girl who gave me no word or glance other than that of deep regard told me tLat she had decided to go to Europe for a season. My heart sank. We stood alone in the University grounds; she had taken the opportunity of our meeting on a by- path to tell me. "Susie," I replied, "you do not know what I have suffered since you came here. You have tantalised me beyond endurance ; you know that I worship you, and yet you turn me off as if I were made of stone. And now you intend to leave for Europe, you who promised to be mine when chemistry enough was gained to enable you to verify the tests I once made for strychnine." " I shall not break my promise." " Then you will marry me, Susie ? " " When I return I shall come to you, and shall stay with you forever, unless — " She paused. " Unless what, Susie ? " " Unless you need my prayers." "Twice have you said that you might have to pray for me, Susie. What do you mean ? " "That I may not find the test for strychnine as I hope to find it. I am deeply troubled. Professor Drew j not cold, not heartless." 391 Jliil Stringtown on the Pike " And if you are not satisfied with my tests? " « More prayers will be needed than you will say, and I shall devote my life to offering them." She left me standing on the walk meditating over her words, and soon thereafter she departed from the University. Cupe, who had been her servant in the boarding-house, left' too, when she did, but he gave me no parting word. He had been very grum since our meeting in the thicket; possibly he was offended over the incident con- cerning that leaf of witch-hazel which I refused to throw away. Another year passed. Premature grey hairs were reflected from my mirror, for my beard and hair, too, were touched with frost. My mother slept in the Stringtown churchyard. I had learned to act the careless man, to cover my heartache, to smile and say idle words to women who led me to speak them ; to throw back the laugh into the face of the man who lightly touched upon my bachelor life. But these were superficialities, beneath which throbbed an earnest heart longing for the breaking of the dawn which would bring Susie back, for, with the fanaticism of a fatalist, I felt she surely would return. I sat alone in my room one evening in December. A flood of painful reflections came over me, and as was my wont when possessed by melancholy, I arose and paced the room back and forth. But as this brought no relief, I next muffled myself and started to the laboratory to brush away the torture of thought by means of the diversion that work afforded, for I had learned that work alone could crush these pangs. It was not unusual for me thus to pass my evenings, and the janitor gave him- self no concern when he observed a light in my private 392 ts ? " vill say, and She left me words, and sity. Cupe, -house, left, rting word, ing in the icident con- ed to throw hairs were d hair, too, ept in the the careless idle words hrow back tly touched erficialities, ;ing for the i back, for, irely would December. and as was arose and Drought no laboratory ins of the that work inusual for gave him- ny private *he, too, arose, and stood with downcast face, while I turned and paced back .nd forth across the floor. *• .. ' l'^'? ^^'^'^^'y^ ^""^ P°'"^^^ ^o ^he door i " both o you. Nether girl nor negro moved, both remained standmg, and at lasr, reier.ting somewhat, I stepped close to busie, and m a low tone said : "Do not look into my face; turn your eyes the other way, for- 1 fear their touch. Tell me what it i that brings you here to-night." "I have already said that I came to bid you farewell, Mr. Drew, and to add that wherever you may be in future you shall have my pray.rs. I go to kneeUnd to path fhat leads to final peace." I' I do not understand you." I spoke more gently. " Nor can you. When I left this school I hoped to return to give you my love and become your wife. But I cannot marry a — " she stopped short. "A what, Susie?" « Do not ask me, for I cannot tell you." She cov- ered her face with her hands. " I demand it." " Sit down, Professor Drew, and be patient. I will word7 "°'^' '""^ '^'" ^°" "^y ^"PP'>^ '^^ '"'^^ing 394 CHAPTER LXV " YOU HAVE FOUGHT AND I HAVE LOVED " " N^^^ ^ ^^^^""^ ^^^ ^^""^ °^°"' ^"* meeting, how -^ ^ ivith bleeding feet and sheet-white face you ran into our cabin that night many years ago ? Never since have I failed to see you when I closed my eyes and thought of that incident, which Cupe and Dinah took care I should not forget. They kept your name in my mind, yours and that of Red-Head. I was taught that a spell linked us three together; faithful were the two negroes to their superstitions, in which I too be- lieved, for I was not less ignorant than themselves j then came the journey to Canada, which I recall vividly although I was a little child. The movements of the old slaves that night, the chaining of Red-Head to the wall, the departure from the old cabin and the pathetic farewell to the graves behind it, seem strangely real to me yet; but let that pass. In my new home, near Quebec, I was baptised into the Catholic Church, and Cupe, too, learned to conform to the sacred ceremonies — for this the Lord be thanked. A miracle was it that led me from that Kentucky cabin to the holy portals of Saint Anne. I was young, it is true, and knew not the meaning of all I heard in that sacred spot ; but the seeds of truth were sown, and young yet was I when one day we left that land of snow, as Cupe said, to find for me my name. I could tell a dramatic story of a toxic 395 ,^^m i Stringtovvn on the Pike potion that a Kentucky man, my father, was forced to dnnk soon after we entered the State. He pleaded and struggled and fought to escape the ordeal test, and, re- fusmgst.ll to grant my birthright, passed into the death struggles; but no good can come of reviving that incident. ^ "At last we were settled again in our cabin home, and then you came and stepped across the conjured threshold. Cure and Dinah whispered about you after you left, and Dinah made anothei ^onjure for you as she had done before. Then came the incident in the String- town school and the cruel words of Jennie Manley You remember the part Red-Head took that day ; need I repeat ,t ; need I remind you that, leaning on his arm, 1 left that school for ever ? Red-Head and I were thrown much into the company of each other thereafter- no other friend had I, no girl companions, no sister's* love, no woman's counsel, no mother to offe^ words to guide me. A negro-bred child was I ; superstition came with every breeze from without and everyr whisper from within the cabin ; and the hatred Red-Head bore you came also into my life to disturb me. But I yet read and studied of other things ; my mind unfolded as my form developed, and you know that, thanks to Mr. fe"' i["^,/°""^^f> I received a good education ab.-a'ad. Finally you came again, as you may well re- member, for it was the night you fought Red-Head in my presence — as I never can forget." « Tell me, Susie," I interrupted, « why did you give me one of the roses and say that the other was for Red- Head ? " " Because I was a girl ; there is no other reason, there need be no other. For the once I teased you, but I was a ?irl .39<5 - ^ "You have Fought, 8cc." "You placed that reserved rose on my picture, however." " I thought of you only. I say, forgive me." " Go on." " Then came the question you asked when we stood in the path in the valley, and then I did not do my duty. I led myself to hope against hope. I should have said no positively, but in a moment of weakness I deferred the painful parting, in the hope that it might not be nece sary. Do you know that when I sought you in this room to beg you to keep away from the Court of Stringtown County, I came prepared to tell you of my good name and to say yes, had you asked me to be yours ? " " You do not mean it, Susie ? " " Surely. I was then aware of my birthright, and had you not turned from me, had you not crushed my heart by your coldness, had you sacrificed but a trifle of your ambition for the love of your fellow-man, I would have told you all. But you chilled me by refusing my simple request, and I left you, for I had promised Red-Head to carry a message into the mountains ; you know the rest, you know the result. I kneeled beside the dead boy, dead because of you and me, and then arose and linked my arm in yours to help Judge Elford protect you from the men about you. When I bade you farewell that night. Professor Drew, we had approached the parting of the way. " Now the time has arrived for me to bid you fare- well again, and for ever ; never again will we walk arm- in-arm or meet on the same path." She wrung her hands, but did not weep. Tears might have eased her heartache, but no tears came. Suddenly she stopped before me. 397 I P'-I Stringtown on the Pike Who .„. instead ,he scorn ot^JZ^ZT'^'o,"' the misery of a hungry heart I h.A a ^"^ '-'" ' for lov*. ..To. . . wiids. A woman lones "Z't I ?'"'"c' ^''PP^' ^"^^ """^^ be loved." ^ But I loved you, Susie, and you repulsed me." " For your own sake did I do qo v j- j what you asked hut % V ^°" ^'^ "°* '^"ovv bnng to you ruin." ^ " ""^^ *° " Susie, had you married me, the taint h»A tu u any would have been brushe away V^' ''" ""^ vo:;4Vbrberr nTtir :: -• save yo. ,,fe as we,, as you. goodre'l7a:,?„tyo ;CVJnr:orL:^;:rd:LTiTdir^'''^^^^ I only asked you ,o wait, Mr. DreJ" '"^ "'" no'L^oTb-rr o7y„-s„^-""^ '« "-. - I read m her face the story of desoair- th.r^ cy of anmiish « ^ "^ aespair, there was no nmhavecar ed"^heT "'' ^^^^^^or voice could "You onr^ f ? '°"'^ ""P^«^^ by that look. two IZ '"'^' ' P^''^^' ^"^'^> «« I did; and these two pledges were recorded when we hnfK and foresaw not the future Th. f ^^'^ ^°""g ^ '"'"^^- ^ne penniless Strinato— 398 ° ■' "You have Fought, &c." boy could not discern the independent man who was yet to be, nor could the outcast girl divine that in a day to come, her name would be the same as that of the proud- est man in Stringtown County. And yet these very things have come to pass. You were looking forward, hoping against the impossible, to a time when the unjust taint that saddened your heart would be removed i I was wishing for honours and position which seemed improb- able. Those youthful pledges were blunders ; let us bury them." She shook her head. "Susie, an oath is no more sacred, if it be the output of a foolish heart or of inexperience in the affairs of men or of error of judgment, than a child's empty promise. You were a foolish gir?, I a silly boy; the oath of each was an error. N v when these absurd errors of both heart and intellect can be seen, is it right that our lives should be further sacrificed ? Rather, is it not a duty that we should make amends for the crime we have done m fostering this stupid fanaticism, which has kept us apart in the past and bids fair now to wreck our future?" But she made no answer. »' What is the object of life, Susie ? To rise in the morning and go to rest at night, to plan and scheme and work ! To laugh a little, smile a little. To speak a kind word or say a harsh one, to lighten the heartache of a fellow-man, or make his life more bitter ! To make amends for errors, to fight, to love ! " She raised her eyes. « You have fought, and I have loved," and again her eyes drooped. Then abruptly she asked : « Will you give me back the little box I handed you that night in the cabin in order that you might keep in mind the fact that I too had made a pledge ? " 399 Stringtown on the Pike I drew from an inner pocket the tin box; it had never left me. " And must I give this up ? " " Yes; no man has the right to such a keepsake as that from a woman in the place where I am soon to be." I opened the box and drew from it a lock of black hair. " Can I not keep this lock of hair ? " She reached out her hand, but I hesitated and made no motion to return the box. « The keepsake was only loaned you, Mr. Drew." I pressed the tress to my lips and then gently laid it across her palm. As I did so the empty, coffin-shaped box fell upon the floor. Old Cupe shuffled forward and picked it up. « De shape am gruesome, Ma'se Drew. Yo' p'r'aps memberlec' dat Cupe pinted t' de shape ob dis box de night he han' et t' yo'. But de sign am fool sign, yo' know." " All signs are fool signs." ^ « P'r'aps yo' memberlec' dat yo' shake de han' ob Cupe 'cross de doah-sill dat night, too. Guess dat fool sign hab 'scaped yoah min'." He stepped back into the shadows. Then Susie resumed : « And this reminds me that I am not here to argue over things that might have been ; and reminds me also that I have not told you why I came to-night. Listen. You applied the colour test for strychnine, and on that test Judge Elford gave the charge that led to the death of poor Red-Head " " Yes." « Laudanum was administered to Mr. Nordman be- fore the physician came." (( Yes ; I found morphine too, but no other alkaloid. 400 "You have Fought, &c." "Professor Drew, are you aware that Mr. Nord- man took his usual bitters before partaking of his breakfast?" ^ « And what of that ? Has not a Kentucky gentle- man the right to take his dram before breakfast ? " « Are you aware that it was a tonic made of wild cherry bark, golden seal root, and whiskey ? " I saw that while the girl had not yet unfolded her scheme she was driving me to a corner. Suddenly we became antagonists. « Why did you come here to-night," I said. « Have you not done enough of wickedness in wrecking my past life ? But for you Red-Head would have gone back to the mountains." " I repeat, Mr. Drew, the tonic Mr. Nordman drank was made of golden seal root, wild cherry bark, and whiskey." " The fact, if it be fact, has nothing to do with the strychnine," I sneered. « That is a very common tonic in Kentucky. « Golden seal contains a colourless, innocent alkaloid." I stood so near that I could easily have touched her. Her eye was fixed on mine, and I felt its force wheii she spoke that name, golden seal. I saw now, too, the end of her argument, and that she proposed to claim that I had mistaken this substance for strychnine. " I '11 squeeze her pretty throat," I thought to myself. "The love of other men has suddenly changed to hatred; for less than this other men have strangled women they held dear." I raised my hand ; the mus- cles of my wrists were fixed, the fingers claw-like; the devil possessed me when I lifted my arm against that defenceless girl. But a black face came now between us, a black hand «8 401 fiiwr" P I Stringtown on the Pike pushed the girl back. « De gearl am but a chile, Ma'se Samuel i lis'n t' de chile." Thrusting the negro ofF,.I attempted to reach again for the throat of Susie, who, making no movement, stood seemingly undisturbed. Then I was looking into' the muzzle of a pistol. « Yo' 'blege de nigger t' keer fo' de chile ; better yo' let her go on wid de story an' den go back t' Kaintuck. Cupe am monstrous suah yo' caint hurt de chile." There was no effort to sham action. I knew that the negro would shoot before I could harm his charge. My arm dropped and the watchful guardian slunk back. Then Susie continued: "Golden seal, I said." She looked me in the eye, awaiting my answer. « Even if this is so, that substance is not a poison, nor does it give the strychnine poison test." She took from her pocket a small vial containing a white powder. « Will you test that powder for strych- nine ? " ' I turned to my reagents, always convenient in this laboratory, and applied the test. The blue-violet colour of strychnine sprang into existence. « It contains strych- nme," I said with some agitation. «Itdoe«! not." "Susie, that is strychnine. I have sworn to it be- fore, and now reaffirm my statement, but I add to it the further oath, as in this very room I have done be- fore. My reputation is at stake. If that be not strych- nine my life goes out** V." Please do not think of violence. I beg you to do no harm to yourself. I, too, made a pledge that night, a silent vow, and am now on my way to begin its fulfil- ment. Now I seek you to release you from thought of 402 Si"*! *; ■«^ ;: ^ I « ^ -'5 •- "^ ~ .*> 5:1 § ^ !i 1 u a a s t( I IT at oi w be in "You have Fought, &c." me, not to judge you further. This I promised you to do. My object is but to show you that I must go else- where than with you. Put up the weapon, Cupe. Pro- fessor Drew would not harm me." I was silenced. Again I tested the powder, first tor alkaloids, then for strychnine, and again the char- acteristic colour appeared. « i^ surely contains some strychnine." "No trace of stiychnine, Mr. Drew, I assure you. Under these conditions, your test is at fault. I believed you were wrong when you testified before the Court I knew that Red-Head told no lie. You swore by your tubes and glasses, but I believed in the word of a human being in whom I trusted. You were a great chemist, 1 a weak girl. You powerful, I helpless. And yet I was right and you were wrong." "And so you assert," I continued, "that strychnine was not present ? " « Alas, yes ! You have but to properly mix hydrastine and morphine to obtain the colour reaction of stiychnine, although neither will give it alone. These two sub- stances you admit were present in the material you tested, do you not ? " " I do." She held out her hand. "Good-bye, Professor Drew. I shall leave you nowj at your leisure in daylight you may verify my statement." " Where are you going, Susie ? " "Where neither taint of birth nor dishonour rests on any soul; where purity of heart and love of God are one and inseparable; where ascend the prayers of those who live not for themselves, but to work in humanity's behalf. If from this peaceful Mother Home I go ouf into the world, it shall be to serve mankind, and when 403 ' 4 Stringtown on the Pike the life-work to which I devote myself henceforth Is done, my body will rest in the blessed home of the d«td where cluster others who live to love, and pray and die m Nazareth. But while I live .ou shall no^ ;^ '^^:^. Ze^rive^^ -'-'-' '- desmermf 't ''' ^"Z' '"' ^'^^^ "^ self-possession deserted me. Leapmg forward, clasoing her arm with both hands, held her back. « Come'back, my d ar one, I cnedj "you have no right to buiy yourself alive J you can live with me, and yet pray for me and serve mankind and God, too, by living in the woHd." Then uprose the words Judge Elford once had spoken, a prophecy now : « Such a lovely crear .re must be holie and lovelier if blossomed untarnished in heaven " She dropped her eyes, and I saw a tear glisten ind then roll from her half-closed lashes. hand! ''^""°'* ^^^ ^^^^^^ '^ "'^''^•" ^''" ^ ^^^^ ^«^ "Thank God for the one tear you have shed, Susie. " h.ll / V. ^ 5-"^'' '^' '"^^"^ '"^° '^' ^''"ly lighted hall and then drew her arm from my grasp,%aiing onward until by an angle both were .huJ ffom my' sight' And then I stepped to the front window, threw it up and again leaned out. From toward the left, where slept old Scroggins and his sister, came the weird song that the night sometimes sings ; it rose as my wild heart- cry had done, and died into nothingness, as had mv fruitless pleadings. From beneath me just then two forms passed into the feeble light of the gas-lamp and next were swallowed in the darkness beyond 404 nceforth is me of the , and pray shall not ended her possession arm with ) my dear yourself r me, and i^orld." d spoken, be holier isten ind held her , Susie. " y lighted ) passing tiy sight. Jw it up ere slept >ng that I heart- had my len two mp and CHAPTER LXVI " TO WHAT HAS AMBITION LED ? " T CANNOT say how long I leaned out of the A window. My heart was desolate. That mournful tune of the wind and the two forms that vanished in the night as the sad refrain wore out were companion pieces which by eye and ear carried despair to my soul. But at last I did turn back and closed the window. On the table stood that vial of white powder and beside it also the dishes used in testing it. To my mind came the fearful oath I made to Susie when I affirmed that strychnine surely existed in that test case. " I know potions which leave no mark and yet do their work promptly. If this be not strychnine my life goes out." I turned to my locked cupboard, in which were to be found my most valued and rarest specimens. Opening it, I took therefrom a wide- mouthed bottle containing a quantity of small plant bulbs and a letter. Removing the letter, I replaced the bottle of bulbs, and turning the key, seated myself before my desk. Unfolding the letter, which was post-marked in a certain part of Arkansas, I read as follows : My dear Professor Drew : By mail to-day I send you a plant which grows in this section and a few bulbs from the same species. These possess remarkable powers. Three children recently ate of them and died slowly and painless!". They retained possession of their full mental powers to the last. 405 Ill Stringtown on the Pike My efforts to relieve them were oseless. I have tried rU tincture of the bulbs on rabbits • thev h.r,n, ,.^^"^^ ^^^ not to suffer at all, but slow /w /ted aw^^^^^ ^°":^' ^^^.^^^ went to sleep and did not awak „ l7\h '^"^ ^"'^''^^ children died PU,c ! ^^^ '^""^ "^^nn^r the cniiaren died. Please give me the name of the nlanf o«^ t investigate its constituents. ^ *"^' '""^ "^"^ Sincerely yours. The name of the writer I suppress i he is a reputable w^in?" find"" "■! /"" °f "■' '«'" i" 4 o-n writing I find recorded : « Too dangerous a drue to be made known through = .ience to the public." Twis^^ ■ng the letter, I touched it to the flame, watchiZ burn to the last spark, and then I turned off the ' and went home. The next day I asked William, my assistant, to remain after school hours, saying Z7l had a powder to mvestigate. Together we applied the strychnme colour test, to which it responded Then pure white alkaloid of Golden seal and'pure mojhine were separately tested, no blue-violet coLr "Zl^ with either Mixed in proper proportion (one pT.? strychn.. e asserted itself. tinnnf 1'° ""^ '1''''"''' " ^""^ "^^ '^^ '^'^rved por- tion of the material we tested in the Stringtown poisoning He went to the basement and returned with it. This substance we also tested, with the former result. The next day we purified the ciystals, and by appropriate method, now that I had an inkling of the natu're of the m^ure, I separated the alkaloids. A^. .,.,.w ,,, "I can supply the word Susie did not speak when ,she refused to finish a sentence, William." 406 "To What has Ambition Led" 'c tried the ;uid, seemed they quietly manner the nt, and also reputable my own I drug to Twist- itching it f^ the gas Iliam, my g that I plied the . Then norphine Jccurring 3ne part ction of ved por- oisoning . This t. The •ropriate ; of the ine was c when " What word ? " " Never mind. I shall ao my duty." I opened my private locker, and took the bottle containing the bulbs. "William, crush these bulbs in the iron mortar, add alcohol, make a tincture of them. Be very careful ; this makes a powerful potion. William," I added, " I shall be very busy for a time writing a work which I wish to complete within three months. I shall consider it a favour if during that period you will assume all possible details of the laboratory. You may leave me now ; I wish to begin." From that day I spent my spare time at my desk. I lived my life over and passed again through the scenes which concerned me in my boyhood. And each day, with the cold determination of a fatalist who had sworn to do an act of justice, I took ten drops of the tincture made of the bulbs from Arkansas. From day to day I grew weaker, but suffered no pain. My friends were at last alarmed. I gracefully submitted to the closest examination that the medical profession could make, but no fault could be found with any organ. No specialist could discover an abnormal condition. Still, I lost strength, flesh, and energy. At last I kept to my room, and then became confined to my bed. Wise old Doctor Smith thought he knew everything, but I smiled at his lack of knowledge in this case. He was a professional man of attainments, — la scientific man, and we were both taking a lesson of our master, empiricism. At last he declared that his tonics and stimulants had on me no more effect than water ; and then I asked : " Doctor, how long will I last if no sudden change for the worse occurs ? Do not be afraid to tell me. Doctor. I knew ten weeks ago that your remedies could not avail in my case." 407 u Stringtown on the Pike « wk'"^"'"'; ^°" "^'^ '"'■"'>' ^"" '^° ^«^<^k«»" he replied. What puzzles me, however, is that you have ao symp- torn of disease no pain, no loss of appetite, no fever, no dehnum, no depressicr Your temperature is normal, your heart-beats strong and full j you are well in every way, but are slowly wasting." ' But death like thu .. pleasant ; at least, it would be to one whose mind is free from remorse. Will you do me the favour to send William to me, Doctor," I asked, " and at once ? ' " It is useless to attempt to deceive you j too well you Wreciate yo^ir condition," replied the physician. J I shall send Wilham, and to-morrow will call as usual hopmg that this last prescription will effect a change " 1 smiled in reply, and the wise man left me. « Se seated, William," I said when he came; «I have a favour to ask of you and a story to tell. But before beginning, lock the door : we must not be dis- turbed. Now, open that drawer, take from it the package of manuscript, put it on the table and after this mterview, in detail at your leisure record and add to the manuscript the substance of this interview. Draw your chair closer to my bedside, for talking exhausts one as weak as I am." Here ends the manuscript as written by the hand of Professor Drew. J. U. L. 408 CHAPTER LXVII THE MUSIC AND THE VOICE DIE OUT FOREVER T^jf ANY of the residents of Northern Kentucky can lW± recall the familiar form of old Cupe, a black man who, with violin in hand, during the summer months wandered about that section of the State. His garments were of many colours and patterns, an \ were abundantly and curiously patched. Old and feeble was he, queer in action and shrewd in tongue, but polite to a fault. To one man he would give a curt question, to another a shrewd reply or a comical side remark, but always would he ask of each : " Hab yo' seed de Susie chile sense I gwine dis way ? " or, " Hab de deah Susie chile gwine yoah way ? " Some considered him a pro- fessional vagra nt, others thought him demented, although there were people who knew that he was searching for his life charge, who disappeared from Stringtown seem- ingly without bidding any one farewell. It was gener- ally accepted that the childishness of age had touched him, and all agreed that the demented old man was harmless. Three days before the close of the Period of Retreat at beautiful Nnzareth, in Kentucky, the Mother Home of the patient Sisters of Charity, the form of old Cupe might have been seen advancing along the road from the villaae of Bards'"'^"'" Rpo'^l^'no- ^h" -."♦--^ — *" *>-_ grounds that surround the quiet building which shelters 409 Stringtown on the Pike those self-sacrificing women, whose greatest pleasure lies in doing charity In the world, and in praying for the betterment of mankind, he passed the entrance and reached the broad avenue that leads to the central build- ing. Passing along this, he came to a lane which led to the right and terminated before an uplifted cross bearing the form of the Saviour, while at its base were many rows of modest white tombstones. The old man bent the knee, as is the wont of all good Catholics before a sacred shrine (although he was not a Catholic), and then passed on toward the house before him. It was the hour of five, the, hour for closing the service in the little chapel which nestled to the right of the great home building. From out the front door came now the good Sisters in their sable dress and white caps ; silently they scattered over the grounds, each absorbed in meditation. The negro stepped to the side of the elm-flanked road, took ofF his tattered hat, and with bent form stood as silent as were the nuns who passed in pairs and in groups. The eyes of a few were raised as they met his shadow on the drive, but they dropped at once ; still the major- ity moved on without making any recognition whatever of the presence of the lonely man who had entered that • sanctuary. Then along the path came one of the throng whose face arrested the gaze of the negro. His torn hat now dropped to the ground, the hickory cane fell from his nervous grasp, and then he kneeled on the gravel with eyes riveted on the girl. Raising his arms, he ex- tended them toward the silent woman, " Susie." Hearing the voice, she raised her eyes and caught sight of the intruder. A sudden start, a step toward the kneeling man, a reaching out of her arms, and then, as could be seen, by a strong mental effort her form re- sumed its normal position, her eyes dropped again to the 410 pleasure ig for the ance and rat build- ich led to s bearing ;re many mail bent before a and then was the the little ;at home the good ntly they editation. ced road, stood as 1 groups. shadow e major- rt'hatever ered that le throng torn hat fell from e gravel I, he ex- I caught vard the then, as "orm re- n to the The Music and the Voice, &c. ground, and she too passed on, and walked through the lane that led toward the crucifix. The negro arose and remained standing by the edge of the gravel roadbed, until the silent Sisters retraced their steps, but this t'lac 'he face he knew so well passed him by, no upturn< d eye iii>, t his look, no faltering step nor outstretched a m and s night fell the aged wan- derer turned and \e\: uKt sar ed grounds. The next afternoo'' he old man again stood beside the avenue at the very junction of the path, again he kneeled and held out his arms toward the sweet-faced girl, and imploringly called her name ; but this time she made no recognition of his presence. True to her vow, with- standing temptation — for this friend of other days stirred her emotions to the heart-depths — she passed, and turned back to leave him in the gloom of evening standing, vio- lin in hand, as before. But the next afternoon the Re- treat of Silence ended, for the eight days of prayer and meditation had passed, and then the faithful nuns came out of the church talking with one another, and free to speak with whomsoever they met. And now the girl called Susie sought at once the spot where the negro stood ; she held out both her hands, and burst into tears. " And is this dear old Cupe ? " " Et am Cupe. He hab trabelled up an* down, up an' down, lookia' fo' de Susie chile." "Susie no longer, Cupe; no longer the Susie you knew in the world." "Yo' am walkin' an' talkin' an' yo' hab de same sweet face." « Tell me of Aunt Dinah." " She am pow'ful weak, an' sits in de ole cabin waitin' l\j uus:c , an cauii Lilllc wn;;ii 'v_upc (.umc tip uc vvuiK uu look in de doah she say, * Wha' am de Susie chile ? * 411 i r • • 4 Stringtown on the Pike An' den Cupe say to hisse'f, ' Go back, ole Cupe, an* ' walk up an' down till de gearl am foun'.' " « Did you get the money I placed with Judge Elford to care for you and Dinah during your lives ? " "Et am all safe waitin' fo' de Susie gearl t' come back an' spen' et." " That can never be, Cupe." " An' caint yo' go back wid de ole man ? " "No; this is my home, and that lane leads to my final resting-place. Never yet did one of my sisters break her vow, nor shall I. Go back to Dinah, Cupid, say to her that Susie is no longer a part of the world." He thrust his hkds into the mass of rags in which he was clothed, and took out a purse well filled with bills. " Yo '11 honah de ole man by takin' de money." " Is this part of the money I left with Judge Elford to support you and Dinah ? " "Et am." "Carry it to Dinah. I have no need of money: I am comfortable." " An' mus' de ole man go home alone an' say t' Dinah de dear gearl '11 nebbah come back t' de cabin ?" " Yes." " Could n't Cupe an' Dinah come t' a cabin h'ar'bout an' hb wha' dey kin see de big house yo' libs in ? Et 'ud be monstrous socvin' t' de ole man." "No, Cupej bid me good-bye and go home to Dmah." " Ple^ ,e, Missus Susie, yo' needn't feah no troub'l ; Cupe '11 jes come down t' de walk in de ebenin' an' stan' by de side ob de road, an' he won't say nuffin' t' boddah yo'. /o' may pass up an' down, an' Cupe '11 look on yoah sweet face, an' den tu'n 'bout an' go back t' Dinah." 412 The Music and the Voice, &c. « I am with you always, I love you as much as ever. But you must not come here to live. Go back to Dinah and be happy in the old cabin." "An' dis am de end," he muttered, " le end ob de walkin' up an' down, an' up an' down." Then he added : « Ef yo'll be de one t' say good-bye, an' '11 let de ole man stan' heah fo' a bit t'-night, dah won't be no cause t' scold him, fo' in de mahn'n he'll be walkin' back t' Stringtown. Honey chile, he wants t' stan' heah till de sun goes down, till de da'kness settles obah de Ian' an' obah de house what shets yo' up ferebah." " Good-bye, Cupe, my dear old Cupe," said the sweet- faced Sister. She pressed his black, wrinkled hands be- tween her white palms, while the tears trickled down her cheeks. Then she turned and left him standing where the cemetery path joins the great elm avenue which leads down to Nazareth. The shadows settled as fall the shades of summer's evening in this midland between the North and the South. The mournful cry of the whippoorwill, that strange bird of night, arose from out an old elm to the right, and from the left came the answer. Then rang the bell that summoned the nuns to prayer and repose, and soon thereafter, throughout the great house, each light went out. And now occurred a thing unknown before in Nazareth. From near to where moaned the gloom-birds a soft strain of music floated onto the air and into the windows of the nuns' silent house. The melody was that of a single violin, its tone so plaintive that it thrilled each listener with a sense of sadness. The good Father in the little house to the right stepped to the door ; seemingly heaven was sighing to some one in that great bank of buildings, where all was dark and still. Then a husky voice, which, wordless to all but 413 Stringtown on the Pike one, seemed scarcely human, arose and blended in the melody ; but to that one of the listening nuns it breathed a familiar refrain : Yo' ax what make dis da'key weep, Why he, like uddahs am not gay ; What make de teahs roll down his cheek From early dawn till broke ob day ? The music and the voice died out forever ; the moon cast the elm trees* shadows across the vacant avenue where stood the mourning singer j once more arose the cry of the night-bird. THE END •' '! ,r,) 4* 414 1 in the breathed le moon avenue rose the