SHOCKY 
 
THE HOOSIER 
 SCH O OLM ASTE R 
 
 A 5tory of Backwoods Life 
 in Indiana 
 
 REVISED 
 *rtth an Introduction and Notes on tSie District 
 
 by the Author, 
 
 EDWARD EGQLESTON 
 
 With Character Sketches by 
 
 F. OPPER 
 
 and other Illustrations by 
 W. B. B. STARKWEATHER 
 
 OROSSET & DUNLAF 
 
 JPU3LISI1KRS NEW YORK 
 
 Mwk in the United States of America 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress In the year 8ri tap 
 
 ORANGE JUDD & CO., 
 So the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 
 
 Copyright, 1892 
 By ORANGE JUDD COMPANY 
 
 Copyright, 1899 
 By EDWARD EGGLESTOB* 
 
 Copyright, 1913 
 By PRANCES G. EGGLESYOSI 
 
6a 
 
 AM i A/ 
 
 AS A PEBBLE CAST UPON A GREAT 
 CAIRN, THIS EDITION IS INSCRIBED TO THE 
 MEMORY OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, 
 WHOSE CORDIAL ENCOURAGEMENT TO MY 
 EARLY STUDIES OF AMERICAN DIALECT IS 
 GRATEFULLY REMEMBERED. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 883900 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION 
 
 BEING THE HISTORY OF A STORY. 
 
 "THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER" was written 
 and printed in the autumn of 1871."* It is therefore 
 now about twenty-one years old, and the publishers 
 propose to mark its coming of age by issuing a li 
 brary edition. I avail myself of the occasion to 
 make some needed revisions, and to preface the 
 new edition with an account of the origin and ad 
 ventures of the book. If I should seem to betray 
 unbecoming pride in speakng of a story that has 
 passed into several languages and maintained an 
 undiminished popularity for more than a score of 
 years, I count on receiving the indulgence com 
 monly granted to paternal vanity when cele 
 brating the majority of a first-born. Wth all its 
 faults on its head, this little tale has become a clas 
 sic, in the bookseller s sense at kast ; and a public 
 that has shown so constant a partiality for it has 
 a right to feel some curiosity regarding its history. 
 
 3 persuade myself that additional extenuation for 
 
5 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITIONc 
 
 this biography of a book is to be found in the rela 
 tion which " The Hoosier School-Master " happens 
 J to bear to the most significant movement in Ameri 
 can literature in our generation. ~lt is the file-leader 
 of the procession of American dialect novelsf* Be 
 fore the appearance of this story, the New England 
 folk-speech had long been employed for various 
 literary purposes, it is true; and after its use by 
 Lowell, it had acquired a standing that made it the 
 classic lingua rustica of the United States. Even 
 Hoosiers and Southerners when put into print, as 
 they sometimes were in rude burlesque stories, 
 usually talked about " huskin bees " and " apple 
 parin bees " and used many other expressions tor 
 eign to their vernacular. American literature 
 hardly touched the speech and life of the people 
 outside of New England ; in other words, it was 
 provincial in the narrow sense. 
 
 I can hardly suppose that " The Hoosier School 
 Master " bore any causative relation to that broader 
 provincial movement in our literature which now 
 icludes such remarkable productions as the writ 
 i:igs of Mr. Cable, Mr. Harris, Mr. Page, Miss 
 .Murfree, Mr. Richard Malcom Johnson, Mr. Howe, 
 Mr. Garland, some of Mrs. Burnett s stories and 
 others quite worthy of inclusion in this list. TThe 
 Baking up of life in this regional way nas made out 
 
REFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. J 
 
 literature really national by the only process possl- 
 bleT? The Federal nation has at length manifested 
 a consciousness of the continental diversity of its 
 foims of life. The "great American novel/ for 
 which prophetic critics yearned so fondly twenty 
 years ago, is appearing in sections. <J may claim fot 
 this book the distinction, such as it is, of being the 
 first of the dialect storks that depict a life quite 
 beyond New England influence/^ Some of Mr. Bret 
 Harte s brief and powerful tales had already fore- 
 shadowed this movement toward a larger rendering 
 of our life. But the romantic character of Mr 
 Harte s delightful stories and the absence of any 
 thing that can justly be called dialect in them mark 
 them as rather forerunners than beginners of the 
 prevailing school. For some years after the ap 
 pearance of the present novel, my own stories had 
 to themselves the field of provincial realism (if, in 
 deed, there be any such thing as realism) before 
 there came the succession of fine productions which 
 have made the last fourteen years notable. 
 
 Though it had often occurred to me to write 
 something in the dialect now known as Hoosier ~ 
 the folk-speech of the southern part of Ohio, In 
 diana, and Illinois of forty years ago I had post 
 poned the attempt indefinitely, probably because 
 *;he only literary use that had been made of the 
 
8 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITIONc 
 
 allied speech of the Southwest had been in th 
 books of the primitive humorists of that region. 
 * found it hard to dissociate in my own mind the 
 dialect from the somewhat coarse boisterousness 
 which seemed inseparable from it in the works of 
 these rollicking writers. It chanced that in 1871 
 Taine s lectures an "Art in the Netherlands," or 
 rather Mr. John Durand s translation of them, fell 
 into my hands as a book for editorial review. These 
 discourses are Kttk else than an elucidation of the 
 thesis that the artist of originality will work coura 
 geously with the materials he finds in his own envi 
 ronment. In Taine s view, all life has matter for the 
 artist, if only he have eyes to see. 
 
 Many years previous to the time of which I am 
 now speaking, while I was yet a young man, I had 
 projected a lecture on the Hoosier folk-speech, and 
 had even printed during the war a little political 
 skit in that dialect in a St. Paul paper. So far as I 
 know, nothing else had ever been printed in the 
 Hoosier. Under the spur of Taine s argument* I 
 now proceeded to write a short story wholly in 
 the dialect spoken in my childhood by rustics on 
 the north side of the Ohio Riven/ This tale I called 
 " The Hoosier School-Master." It consiste^almost 
 entirely of an autobiographical narration in dialect 
 by Mirandy Means of the incidents that form the 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION g 
 
 groundwork of the present story. X I was the 
 newly installed editor of a weekly journal, Hearth 
 and Home, and I sei>t this little story in a new dia 
 lect to my printerTX^It chanced that one of the 
 proprietors of the paper saw a part of it in proof. 
 He urged me to take it back and make a longer 
 story out of the materials, and he expressed great 
 confidence in the success of such a storyT/ Yielding 
 to his suggestion, I began to write this novel from 
 week to week as it appeared in the paper, and thus 
 found myself involved in the career of a novelist, 
 which had up to that time formed no part of my 
 plan of life. In my inexperience I worked at a 
 white-heat, completing the book in ten weeks* 
 Long before these weeks of eager toil were over, 
 it was a question among my friends whether the 
 novel might not write finis to me before I should 
 see the end of it. 
 
 \^ The sole purpose I had in view at first was thfe 
 resuscitation of the dead-and-alive newspaper of 
 which I had ventured to take charge^/ One of the 
 firm of publishers thought much less favorably of 
 my story than his partner did. I was called into 
 the private office and informed with some seventy 
 that my characters were too rough to be presenta 
 ble in a paper so refined as ours. I corf ess they 
 did seem somewhat too robust for a sheet so 
 
IO PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 as Hearth and Home had been in the months just 
 preceding. But when, the very next week after 
 this protest was made, the circulation of the paper 
 increased some thousands at a bound, my employ 
 er s critical estimate of the work underwent a rapid 
 change a change based on what seemed to him. 
 better than merely literary considerations. By the* 
 time the story closed, at the end of fourteen instaU 
 ments, the subscription list had multiplied itself 
 four or five fold. It is only fair to admit, however, 
 that the original multiplicand had been rather 
 small. 
 
 Papers in Canada and in some of the other Eng 
 lish colonies transferred the novel bodily to their 
 columns, and many of the American country papers 
 helped themselves to it quite freely. It had run 
 some weeks of its course before it occurred to any 
 one that it might profitably be reprinted in book 
 form. The publishers were loath to risk much in 
 the venture. The newspaper type was rejustified 
 to make a book page, and barely two thousand 
 copies were printed for a first edition. I remem 
 ber expressing the opinion that the number was too 
 large. 
 
 "The Hoosier School-Master " was pirated with 
 the utmost promptitude by the Messrs. Routledge, in 
 England, for that was in the barbarous days before 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION- If 
 
 international copyright, when English pn ^J 
 complained of the unscrupulousness of Amc- can re- 
 printers, while they themselves pounced upon every 
 line of American production that promised some 
 shillings of profit. "The Hoosier School-Master* 
 was brought out in England in a cheap, sensational 
 form. The edition of ten thousand has long 
 been out of print. For this large edition and for 
 the editions issued in the British colonies and in 
 continental Europe I have never received a penny. 
 A great many men have made money out of the 
 book, but my own returns have been compara 
 tively small. For its use in serial form I received 
 nothing beyond my salary as editor. On the 
 copyright edition I have received the moderate 
 royalty allowed to young authors at the outset of 
 their work. The sale of the American edition in 
 the first twenty years amounted to seventy thou 
 sand copies. The peculiarity of this sale is its steadi 
 ness. After twenty years, " The Hoosier School 
 Master " is selling at the average rate of more than 
 three thousand copies per annum. During the 
 last half-dozen years the popularity of the book has 
 apparently increased, and its twentieth year closed 
 with a sale of twenty-one hundred in six months. 
 Only those who are familiar with the book trade 
 and who know how brief is the life of the average 
 
12 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 novel will understand how exceptional is this long* 
 Continued popularity. 
 
 Some of the newspaper reviewers of twenty years 
 ago were a little puzzled to know what to make of 
 a book in so questionable a shape, for the American 
 dialect novel was then a new-comer. But nothing 
 could have given a beginner more genuine pleasure 
 than the cordial commendation of the leading pro 
 fessional critic of the time, the late Mr. George 
 Ripley, who wrote an extended review of this book 
 for the Tribune. The monthly magazines all spoke of 
 " The Hoosier School-Master M in terms as favorable 
 as it deserved. I cannot pretend that I was con 
 tent with these notices at the time, for I had the 
 sensitiveness of a beginner. But on looking at the 
 reviews in the magazines of that day, I am amused 
 to find that the faults pointed out in the work of 
 my prentice hand are just those that I should be 
 disposed to complain of now, if it were any part of 
 my business to tell the reader wherein I might haw 
 done better. 
 
 <^The Nation, then in its youth, honored " The Hoo 
 sier School-Master " by giving it two pages, mostly in 
 discussion of its dialect, but dispensing paradoxical 
 praise and censure in that condescending way 
 with which we are all familiar enough.)> /(Accord* 
 ing to its critic, the author had understood and 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 1 3 
 
 .fecribed the old Western life, but he had done it 
 sketchily, to be sure." Yet it was done 
 essential truth and some effectiveness," The 
 uc% however, instantly stands on the other foot 
 and adds that the book " is not a captivating 
 one." But he makes amends in the very next sen 
 tence by an allusion to " the faithfulness of its tran 
 script of the life it depicts," and then instantly 
 balances the account on the adverse side of the 
 ledger by assuring the reader that " it has no interest 
 of passion or mental power."/ But even this fatal 
 conclusion is diluted by a dependent clause* " Pos 
 sibly," says the reviewer, " the good feeling of the 
 intertwined love story may conciliate the good-will 
 of some of the malcontent." One could hardly 
 carry further the fine art of oscillating between 
 moderate commendation and parenthetical damna 
 tion an art tfoat lends a factitious air of judicial 
 impartiality and mental equipoise. Beyond q?^ 
 tion, The Nation Is one of the ablest weekly papers 
 tn the world; the admirable scholarship of its arti 
 cles and reviews in departments of special know! 
 edge might well be a subject of pride to any 
 American. But its inadequate reviews of current 
 fiction add nothing to its value, and its habitual 
 tone of condescending depreciation :n treating 
 imaginative literature of indigenous Grigm is one 
 
14 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 of the strongest discouragements to literary pro 
 duction. 
 
 The main value of good criticism lies in its readi 
 aess and penetration in discovering and applauding 
 merit not before recognized, or imperfectly recog 
 aized. This is a conspicuous trait of Sainte-Beuve, 
 the greatest of all newspaper critics. He knew how 
 to be severe upon occasion, but he saw talent in 
 advance of the public and dispensed en-courage 
 ment heartily, so that he made himself almost a fos 
 ter-father to the literature of his generation in 
 France. But there is a class of anonymous review- 
 ers in England and America who seem to hold a 
 traditional theory that the function of a critic 
 toward new-born talent is analogous to that of Pha 
 raoh toward the infant Jewish population. 1 
 
 During the first year after its publication * The 
 
 1 Since writing the passage in the text, I have met with the follow 
 ing in The Speaker, of London : * Everybody knows that when an 
 important work is published in history, philosophy, or any branch of 
 science, the editor of a respectable paper employs an expert to review 
 it; . . . indeed, the more abstruse the subject of the book, the more 
 careful and intelligent you will find the review. . . . It is equally well 
 known that works of fiction and books of verse are not treated with 
 anything like the same care. ... A good poem, play, or novel is 
 At teast as fine an achievement as a good history ; yet. the history gels 
 (the benefit of an expert s judgment and two columns of thoughtful 
 tpraise or censure, while the poem, play, or novel is treated to ten 
 skittish lines by the hack who happens to be within nearest call whee 
 ihe book comes in," 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION, I 
 
 Hoosier School-Master " was translated into French 
 and published in a condensed form in the Revue 
 des Deux Mondes. The translator was the writer 
 who signs the name M. Th. Bentzon, and who is 
 vvsll known to be Madame Blanc. This French 
 version afterward appeared in book form in the 
 same volume with one of Mr. Thomas Bailey Al 
 drich s stories and some other stories of mine. In 
 this latter shape I have never seen it. The title 
 given to the story by Madame Blanc was " Le Maitre 
 d Ecole de Flat Creek/ It may be imagined that 
 the translator found it no easy task to get equiva 
 lents in French for expressions in a dialect new and 
 strange. " I ll be dog-on d " appears in French as 
 "devil take me " (" diable m emporte"\ which is not 
 bad ; the devil being rather a jolly sort of fellow, in 
 French. " The Church of the Best Licks " seems 
 rather unrenderable, and I do not see how the trans 
 lator could have found a better phrase for it than 
 "LEglise des Racists" though " raclees" does not 
 convey the double sense of "licks." "Jim ep&lait 
 vite comme eclair " is not a good rendering of " Jim 
 spelled like lightning," since it is not the celerity oC 
 the spelling that is the main consideration. " Con 
 wurs d epellation " is probably the best equivalent 
 for " spelling-school," but it seems something more 
 Stately in its French dress. When Bud says, witb 
 
6 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 reference to Hannah, " I never took no shine that 
 air way," the phrase is rather too idiomatic for the 
 French tongue, and it becomes " I haven t run after 
 that hare " ( u je rial pas chass/ ce ltivre-la "). Per 
 haps the most sadly amusing thing in the transla 
 Hon is the way the meaning of the nickname Shocky 
 Is missed in an explanatory foot-note. It is, accord 
 ing to the translator, an abbreviation or corruption 
 of the English word " shocking," which expresses 
 the shocking ugliness of the child" qui exprime la 
 laideur choquante de enfant." 
 
 A German version of " The Hoosier School-Mas- 
 ter " was made about the time of the appearance 
 of the French translation, but of this I have never 
 seen a, copy. I know of it only from the statement 
 jnade to me by a German professor, that he had 
 read it in German before he knew any English. 
 What are the equivalents in High German for 
 " right smart " and " dog-on " I cannot imagine. 
 
 Several years after the publication of "The Hoo 
 sier School-Master " it occurred to Mr. H. Hansen,of 
 Kjoge, in Denmark, to render it into Danish. Among 
 the Danes the book enjoyed a popularity as great, 
 perhaps, as it has had at home. The circulation 
 warranted Mr. Hansen and his publisher in bringing 
 out several other novels of mine. The Danish 
 (translator was the only person concerned in the 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. IJ 
 
 various foreign editions of this book who had the 
 courtesy to ask the author s leave. Under the old 
 conditions in regard to international copyright, an 
 author came to be regarded as one not entitled even 
 to common civilities in the matter of reprinting his 
 works he was to be plundered without politeness 
 As I look at the row of my books in the unfamiliar 
 Danish, I am reminded of that New England mother 
 who, on recovering her children carried away by the 
 Canadian Indians, found it impossible to communi 
 cate with a daughter who spoke only French and a 
 son who knew nothing but the speech of his savage 
 capto /s. Mr. Hansen was thoughtful enough to 
 send me the reviews of my books in the Danish 
 newspapers; and he had the double kindness to 
 translate these into English and to leave out all but 
 those that were likely to be agreeable to my vanity. 
 Of these I remember but a single sentence, and that 
 because it was expressed with felicity. The re 
 viewer said of the fun in "The Hoosier School^ 
 Master:" "This is humor laughing to keep from 
 bursting into tears. * 
 
 A year or two before the appearance of ^ The Hoc 
 sier School-Master," a newspaper article of mine 
 touching upon American dialect interested Mr. Low 
 ell, and he urged me to " look for the foreign influ 
 ence " that has affected the speech of the Ohio Rives 
 
18 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 country. My reverence for him as the master in such 
 studies did not prevent me from feeling that the 
 suggestion was a little absurd. But at a later period 
 I became aware that North Irishmen used many of 
 the pronunciations and idioms that distinctly char 
 acterized the language of old-fashioned people on 
 the Ohio. Many Ulster men say " wair " for were 
 and " air " for are, for example. Connecting this 
 with the existence of a considerable element of 
 Scotch-Irish names in the Ohio River region, I could 
 not doubt that here was one of the keys the master 
 had bidden me look for. While pursuing at a later 
 period a series of investigations into the culture- 
 history of the American people in the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries, I became much interested 
 in the emigration to America from the north of Ire 
 land, a movement that waxed and waned as the 
 great Irish-linen industry of the last century declined 
 or prospered. The first American home of these 
 Irish was Pennsylvania. A portion of them were 
 steady-going, psalm-singing, money-getting people, 
 
 "who in course of time made themselves felt in the 
 
 \ 
 
 commerce, politics, and intellectual life of the na 
 tion. There was also a dare-devil element, de 
 scended perhaps from those rude borderers who 
 were deported to Ireland more for the sake of the 
 peace of North Britain than for the benefit of Ire 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 1$ 
 
 land. In this rougher class there was perhaps a 
 larger dash of ivie Celtic fire that came from the 
 wild Irish women whom the first Scotch settlers in 
 Ulster made tV; mothers of their progeny. Arrived 1 
 in the wilds of Pennsylvania, the^e Irishmen built 
 rude cabins, planted little patches of corn and po 
 tatoes, and distilled a whiskey that was never su(= 
 fered to grow mellow. The forest was congenial 
 to men who spent much the larger part of their 
 time in boisterous sport of one sort or another. 
 The manufacture of the rifle was early brought to 
 Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, direct from the land of 
 its invention by Swiss emigrants, and in the adven 
 turous Scotch-Irishman of the Pennsylvania frontier 
 the rifle found its fellow. Irish settlers became 
 hunters of wild beasts, explorers, pioneers, and war 
 riors against the Indians, upon whom they avenged 
 their wrongs with relentless ferocity. Both the 
 Irish race and the intermingled Pennsylvania Dutch 
 were prolific, and the up-country of Pennsylvania 
 soon overflowed. Emigration was held in check to 
 the westward for a while by the cruel massacres o* 
 the French and Indian wars, and one river of pop 
 illation poured itself southward into the fertile val 
 leys of the Virginia mountain country; another and 
 larger flood swept still farther to the south along 
 the eastern borders of the Appalachian range until 
 
2O PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDmON, 
 
 it reached the uplands of Carolina. When the ms- 
 litia of one county in South Carolina was mustered 
 during the Revolution, it was found that every one 
 01 the thirty-five hundred men enrolled were natives 
 af Pennsylvania. These were mainly sons of North 
 irishmen, and from the Carolina Irish sprang Cal 
 noun, the most aggressive statesman that has ap 
 Beared in America, and Jackson, the most brilliant 
 military genius in the whole course of our history. 
 Before the close of the Revolution this adventurous 
 race had begun to break over the passes of the AL 
 leghanies into the dark and bloody ground of Ken 
 tucky and Tennessee. Soon afterward a multitude 
 of Pennsylvanians of all stocks the Scotch-Irish 
 and those Germans, Swiss, and Hollanders who are 
 commonly classed together as the Pennsylvania 
 Dutch, as well as a large number of people of Eng 
 lish descent began to migrate down the Ohio Val< 
 ley. Along with them came professional men and 
 people of m^re or less culture, chiefly from eastern 
 Virginia and Maryland. There came also into In 
 diana and Illinois, from the border States and from 
 as far south as North Carolina and Tennessee, a body 
 of " poor whites." These semi-nomadic people, 
 descendants of the colonial bond-servants, forrrred, 
 in the second quarter of the nineteenth century, the 
 Jbwest rank of Hoosiers. But as early as 1845 there 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 21 
 
 was a considerable exodus of these to Missouri. 
 From Pike County, in that State, they wended their 
 way to California, to appear in Mr. Bret Harte s 
 stories as " Pikes." The movement of this class out 
 of Indiana went on with augmented volume in the 
 fiffies. The emigrants of this period mostly sought 
 the States lying just west of the Mississippi, and the 
 poorer sort made the trip in little one-horse wagons 
 of the sorriest description, laden mainly with white- 
 headed children and followed by the yellow curs 
 that are the one luxury indispensable to a family of 
 this class. To this migration and to a liberal pro-/ 
 vision for popular education Indiana owes a great 
 improvement in the average intelligence of her 
 people. As early as 1880, I believe, the State had 
 come to rank with some of the New England States 
 in the matter of literacy. 
 
 The folk-speech of the Ohio River country has 
 many features in common with that of the eastern 
 Middle States, while it received but little from the 
 dignified eighteenth-century English of eastern Vir 
 ginia. There are distinct traces of the North- Irish in 
 the idioms and in the peculiar pronunciations. One 
 finds also here and there a word from the " Penn 
 sylvania Dutch," such as " waumus " for a loose 
 Jacket, from the German wamms, a doublet, and 
 w smearcase " for cottage cheese, from the German 
 
22 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 schmierkdse. The only French word left by the old 
 voyageurs, so far as I now remember, is "cordelle," 
 to tow a boat by a rope carried along the shore. 
 
 Substantially the same folk-speech exists wher 
 ever the Pennsylvania migration formed the main 
 element of the primitive settlement. I have heard 
 the same dialect in the South Carolina uplands that 
 one gets from a Posey County Hoosier, or rather 
 that one used to get in the old days before the van 
 dal school-master had reduced the vulgar tongue to 
 the monotonous propriety of what we call good 
 English. 
 
 In drawing some of the subordinate characters in 
 this tale a little too baldly from the model, I fell 
 into an error common to inexperienced writers. It 
 is amusing to observe that these portrait characters 
 seem the least substantial of all the figures in the 
 book. ^\Dr. Small is a rather unrealistic villain, but 
 I knew him well and respected him in my boyish 
 heart for a most exemplary Christian of good fam 
 ily at the very time that, according to testimony 
 afterward given, he was diversifying his pursuits as 
 a practising physician by leading a gang of burglars. 
 More than one person has been pointed out as the 
 original of Bud Means, and I believe there are one 
 or two men each of whom flatters himself that he 
 posed for the figure of the first disciple of the 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION, 23 
 
 Church of the Best Licks. Bud is made up of ele 
 ments found in some of his race, but not in any one 
 man. Not dreaming that the story would reach 
 beyond the small circulation of Hearth and Hqme t 
 I used the names of people in Switzerland and Decs/ 
 tur counties, in Indiana, almost without being awar- 
 of it. I have heard that a young man bearing th 
 surname given to one of the rudest families in thL 
 book had to suffer many gibes while a student at an 
 Indiana college. I here do public penance for my 
 culpable indiscretion. 
 
 M" J earns Phillips," name and all, is a real person 
 whom at the time of writing this story I had not 
 seen since I was a lad of nine and he a man of 
 nearly forty. He was a mere memory to me, and 
 was put into the book with some slighting remarks 
 which the real Jeems did not deserve. I did not 
 know that he was living, and it did not seem likely 
 that the story would have vitality enough to travel 
 all the way to Indiana. But the portion referring to 
 Phillips was transferred to the county paper circu 
 lating among Jeems neighbors. For once the good 
 natured man was, as they say in Hoosier, " mad/ 
 and he threatened to thrash the editor. " Do you 
 think he means you?" demanded the editor. "To 
 be sure he does," said the champion speller. " Cai? 
 you spell ? " " I can spell down any master that eve? 
 
4 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 came to our district," he replied. As time passed 
 on, Phillips found himself a lion. Strangers desired 
 an introduction to him as a notability, and invited 
 the champion to dissipate with them at the soda 
 fountain in the village drug store. It became a 
 matter of pride with him that he was the most 
 famous speller in the world. Two years ago, while 
 visiting the town of my nativity, I met upon the 
 street the aged Jeems Phillips, whom I had not seen 
 for more than forty years. I would go far to hear 
 him " spell down " a complacent school-master once 
 more. 
 
 The publication of this book gave rise to an amus 
 ing revival of the spelling-school as a means of 
 public entertainment, not in rustic regions alone, but 
 in towns also. The furor extended to the great 
 cities of New York and London, and reached at last 
 to farthest Australia, spreading to every region in 
 which English is spelled or spoken. But the effect 
 of the chapter on the spelling-school was temporary 
 and superficial; the only organization that came 
 from the spelling-school mania, so far as I know, 
 was an association of proof-readers in London tc 
 discuss mooted points. The sketch of the Church 
 of the Best Licks, however, seems to have made a 
 deep and enduring impression upon individuals and 
 to have left some organized results. I myself endeav 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 2 
 
 ored to realize it, and for five years I was the pastor 
 of a church in Brooklyn, organized on a basis almost 
 as simple as that in the Flat Creek school-house,, 
 The name I rendered into respectable English, and 
 the Church of the Best Licks became the Church 
 of Christian Endeavor. It was highly successful in 
 doing that which a church ought to do, and its 
 methods of work have been widely copied. After 
 my work as a minister had been definitely closed;, 
 the name and the underlying thought of this church 
 were borrowed for a young people s society; anc 5 
 thus the little story of good endeavor in Indiana 
 seems to have left a permanent mark on the eccle- 
 siastical organization of the time. 
 
 If any one, judging by the length of this p eface 9 
 should conclude that I hold my little bocrk in undue 
 esteem, let him know that I owe it more than one 
 grudge. It is said that Thomas Campbell, twenty 
 years after the appearance of his best-known poem^ 
 was one day introduced as " the author of The Pleas= 
 isres of Hope/" "Confound The Pleasures of 
 Hope/ " he protested ; " can t I write anything else? w 
 So, however much I may prefer my later work, more 
 carefully wrought in respect of thought, structure,, 
 and style, this initial novel, the favorite of the 
 larger public, has become inseparably associated 
 with my name. Often I have mentally applied Camp* 
 
26 PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 bell s imprecation on "The Pleasures of Hope" 
 to this story. I could not write in this vein now if 
 I would, and twenty-one years have made so many 
 changes in me that I dare not make any but minor 
 changes in this novel. The author of " The Hoosier 
 School-Master " is distinctly not I ; I am but his heir 
 and executor; and since he is a more popular writer 
 than I, why should I meddle with his work ? I 
 have, however, ventured to make some necessary 
 revision of the diction, and have added notes, mostly 
 with reference to the dialect. 
 
 A second grudge against this story is that some 
 how its readers persist in believing it to be a bit of 
 my own life. Americans are credulous believers in 
 that i\.iracle of the imagination whom no one has 
 ever seen in the flesh the self-made man. Some 
 /eaders of " The Hoosier School-Master " have set 
 tled it for a certainty that. the author sprang from the 
 rustic class he has described. One lady even wrote 
 to inquire whether my childhood were not repre 
 sented in Shocky, the little lad out of the poor- 
 house. A biographical sketch of me in Italian goes 
 so far as to state that among the hard resorts b> 
 which I made a living it* my early life was the teach 
 Ing of a Sunday-school in Chicago. 
 
 No one knows so well as I the faults of immatu 
 y and inexperience that characterize this book. 
 
PREFACE TO THE LIBRARY EDITION, J 
 
 But perhaps after ail the public is right in so oftea 
 preferring an author s first book. There is whad 
 Emerson would have called a " central spontaneity * 
 about the work of a young man that may give more 
 delight to the reader than all the precision of thought 
 and perfection of style for which we strive as Hf 
 advances. 
 
 JOSHUA S ROCK ON LAKE GEORGE, 1892, 
 
ART OF THE PREFACE TO THE 
 FIRST EDITION. 
 
 I MAY as well confess, what it would be affecta 
 tion to conceal, that I am more than pleased with 
 the generous reception accorded to this story as a 
 serial in the columns of Hearth and Home. It has 
 been in my mind since I was a Hoosier boy to do 
 something towarcfx^escribing life in the back-country 
 districts of the Western States^Clt used to be a 
 matter of no little jealousy with us, I remember, that 
 the manners, customs, thoughts, and feelings of New 
 England country people filled so large a place in 
 books, while our life, not less interesting, not less 
 romantic, and certainly not less filled with humor 
 ous and grotesque material, had no place in lltera 
 ture. It was as though we were shut out of good 
 society^ And, with the single exception of Alice 
 Cary, perhaps, our Western writers did not d^re 
 speak of the West otherwise than as the unreal 
 world to which Cooper s lively imagination ha<? 
 given birth. 
 
JO PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 I had some anxiety lest Western readers should 
 take offence at my selecting what must always 
 seem an exceptional phase of life to those who have 
 grown up in the more refined regions of the West. 
 But nowhere has the School-master been received 
 more kindly than in his own country and among 1 
 his own people. 
 
 \Some of those who have spoken generous words of 
 the School-master and his friends have suggested 
 that the story is an autobiography. But it is not, 
 save in the sense in which every work of art is an 
 autobiography: in that it is the result of the expe 
 rience and observation of the writejy Readers will 
 therefore bear in mind that not Ralph nor Bud nor 
 Brother Sodom nor Dr. Small represents the writer, 
 nor do I appear, as Talleyrand said of Madame de 
 Stae l, " disguised as a woman," in the person of 
 Hannah or Mirandy. Some of the incidents have 
 been drawn from life; none of them, I believe, from 
 
 X 
 
 my own. <l v should like to be considered a member 
 of the Church of the Best Licks, however./ 
 
 It has been in my mind to append some remarks, 
 philological and otherwise, upon the dialect, but Pro 
 fessor Lowell s admirable and erudite preface to the 
 Biglow Papers must be the despair of every one 
 who aspires to write on Americanisms. To Mr. 
 Lowell belongs the distinction of being the only 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. *j 
 
 One of our most eminent authors and the only one 
 of our most eminent scholars who has given careful 
 attention to American dialects. But while I have 
 not ventured to discuss the provincialisms of the 
 Indiana backwoods, I have been careful to preserve 
 the true usus loguendi of each locution* 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 A Private Lesson from a Bulldog, ...... 37 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A. Spell Coming, .52 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Mirandy, Hank, and Shocky, 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Spelling Down the Master .70 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Walk Home, , . 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A Night at Pete Jones s, 97 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Ominous Remarks of Mr. Jones, , 105 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Struggle in the Dark, n 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Has God Forgotten Shocky ? 114 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Devil of Silence, ... . . . . . i* 
 
 3 33 
 
34 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Miss Martha Hawkins, , . o , 125 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Hardshell Preacher, . . . 13* 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A Struggle for the Mastery 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A Crisis with Bud, 150 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Church of the Best Licks 157 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Church Militant, 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 A Council of War, ..... , . 169 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Odds and Ends, 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Face to Face, 180 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 God Remembers Shocky, 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Miss Nancy Sawyer, 192 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Pancakes, ( . . 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 A Charitable Institution O3 
 
CONTENTS, 33 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Good Samaritan, 212 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Bud Wooing, 2*5, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 A Letts? and its Consequences, 22, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 A Los? <md a Gain, 224 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 The Flight, 22& 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 The Trial, ..,.. 2*4 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 " Brother Sodom," 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 The Tiial Concluded, .1 254. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 After the Battle, * 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 Into t-txe Light, * 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 * How it Came Out," . 278 
 
The Hoosier School-Master. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG 
 
 "WANT to be a school-master, do you ? You? 
 Well, what would you do in Flat Crick deestrick, 
 Fd like to know ? Why, the boys have driv off the 
 last two, and licked the one afore them like blazes. 
 You might teach a summer school, when nothin* 
 but children come. But I low it takes a right smart 
 man to be school-master in Flat Crick in the winter. 
 They d pitch you out of doors, sonny, neck and 
 heels, afore Christmas." 
 
 The young man, who had walked ten miles to get 
 the school in this district, and who had been men 
 tally reviewing his learning at every step he took, 
 trembling lest the committee should find that he 
 did not know enough, was not a little taken aback 
 at this greeting from " old Jack Means/ who was 
 the first trustee that he lighted on. The impression 
 by these ominous remarks was emphasized 
 
$8 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 by the glances which he rece .ved from Jack Means i. 
 two sons. The older one eyed him from the top 
 of his brawny shoulders with that amiable look 
 which a big dog turns on a little one before shaking 
 lim. Ralph Hartsook had never thought of being 
 neasured by the standard of muscle. This notion 
 of beating education into young savages in spite of 
 themselves dashed his ardor. 
 
 He had walked right to where Jack Means was 
 at work shaving shingles in his own front yard. 
 While Mr. Means was making the speech which we 
 have set down above, and punctuating it with ex 
 pectorations, a large brindle bulldog had been sniff- 
 ing at Ralph s heels, and a girl in a new linsey-wooL 
 sey dress, standing by the door, had nearly giggled 
 her head off at the delightful prospect of seeing a 
 new school-teacher eaten up by the ferocious brute. 
 The disheartening words of the old man, the im 
 mense muscles of the young man who was to be his 
 rebellious pupil, the jaws of the ugly bulldog, and 
 *he heartless giggle of the girl, gave Ralph a de- 
 ightful sense of having precipitated himself into a 
 len of wild beasts. Faint with weariness and dis- 
 .ouragement, and shivering with fear, he sat down 
 on a wheelbarrow. 
 
 " You, Bull ! " said the old man to the dog, which 
 was showing more and more a disposition to make 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG. 39 
 
 a meal of the incipient pedagogue, " you, Bull ! git 
 
 , 1 you pup ! " The dog walked sullenly off, but 
 not until he had given Ralph a look full of promise 
 of what he meant to do when he got a good chance, 
 Ralph wished himself back in the village of Lewis 
 burg, whence he had come. 
 
 "You see," continued Mr. Means, spitting in a 
 meditative sort of a way, " you see, we a n t none 
 of your saft sort in these diggin s. It takes a man 
 to boss this deestrick. Howsumdever, ef you think 
 you kin trust your hide in Flat Crick school-house 
 I ha n t got no bjection. But ef you git licked, 
 don t come on us. Flat Crick don t pay no nsur- 
 ance, you bet ! Any other trustees ? Wai, yes, 
 But as I pay the most taxes, t others jist let me 
 run the thing. You can begin right off a Monday, 
 They a n t been no other applications. You see, it 
 takes grit to apply for this school. The last master 
 had a black eye for a month. But, as I wuz saying 
 you can jist roll up and wade in. I low you ve got 
 spunk, maybe, and that goes for a heap sight more n 
 sinnoo with boys. Walk in, and stay over Sunday 
 with me. You ll hev* to board roun , and I guess 
 you better begin here." 
 
 1 Aout is not the common form of out, as it is in certain rustic Nev 
 England regions. The vowel is here drawn in this way for impera- 
 live emphasis, and it occurs as a consequence of drawling speech* 
 
4O THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER^ 
 
 Ralph did not go in, but sat out on the wheel 
 barrow, watching the old man shave shingles, while 
 the boys split the blocks and chopped wood. Bull 
 smelled of the new-comer again in an ugly way, and 
 got a good kick from the older son for his pains. 
 But out of one of his red eyes the dog warned the 
 young school-master that he should yet suffer for all 
 kicks received on hts account. 
 
 "Ef Bull once takes a holt, heaven and yarth can t 
 make him let go," said the older son to Ralph, by 
 way of comfort. 
 
 It was well for Ralph that he began to " board 
 roun* " by stopping at Mr. Means s. Ralph felt 
 that Flat Creek was what he needed. He had lived 
 a bookish life; but here was his lesson in the art 
 of managing people, for he who can manage the 
 untamed and strapping youths of a winter school 
 in Hoopole County has gone far toward learning 
 one of the hardest of lessons. And in Ralph s time, 
 things were worse than they are now. The older 
 son of Mr. Means was called Bud Means. What his 
 real name was, Ralph could not find out, for in many 
 of these families the nickname of " Bud " given to the 
 oldest boy, and that of " Sis," which is the birth 
 right of the oldest girl, completely bury the proper 
 Christian name. Ralph saw his first strategic point, 
 which was to capture Bud Means. 
 
OLD JACK MEANS 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG. 
 
 After supper, the boys hegan to get ready foi 
 something. Bull stuck up his ears in a dignified 
 way, and the three or four yellow curs tvho were 
 Bull s satellites yelped delightedly and discoid- 
 antly. 
 
 " Bill/ said Bud Means to his brother, " ax the 
 master ef he d like to hunt coons. I d like to take 
 the starch out uv the stuck-up feller." 
 
 " Nough said," * was Bill s reply. 
 
 "You durn t 2 do it," said Bud. 
 
 " I don t take no ceeh a dare," 3 returned Bill, and 
 walked down to the gate, by which Ralph stood 
 watching the stars come out, and half wishing he 
 had never seen Flat Creek. 
 
 "I say, mister," began Bill, " mister, they s a coo** 
 what s been a eatin our chickens lately, and we re 
 
 1 " Nough said" is more than enough said for the French trans 
 lator, who takes it apparently for a sort of barbarous negative and 
 renders it, "I don t like to speak to him." I need hardly explain to 
 any American reader that enough said implies the ending of 0.11 di$ 
 cussion by the acceptance of the proposition or challenge. 
 
 2 Durn t, daren t, dasent, dursent, and don t dast are forms of thif 
 variable negative heard in the folk-speecii of various parts of the counc 
 try. The tense? of this verb seem to have got hopelessly mixed long 
 ago, even in literary use, and the speech of the people reflects the 
 Mstoric confusion. 
 
 3 To take a dare is an expression used in senses diametrically oj; 
 posed. Its common sense is that of the text. The man who refuses 
 to accept a challenge is said to take a dare, and there is some impli 
 cation of cowardice in the imputation. On the other hand p one whtf 
 accepts a challenge ^ said also to take the dare. 
 
4 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 go n* to try to ketch * the varmint. You wouldn t 
 like to take a coon hunt nor nothin , would you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes/ said Ralph, " there s nothing I should 
 like better, if I could only be sure Bull wouldn t 
 mistake me for the coon." 
 
 And so, a? a matter of policy, Ralph dragged his 
 tired legs eight or ten miles, on hill and in hollow, 
 after Bud, and Bill, and Bull, and the coon. But 
 the raccoon 2 climbed a tree. The boys got into a 
 quarrel about whose business it was to have brought 
 the axe, and who was to blame that the tree could 
 not be felled. Now, if there was anything Ralph s 
 mtlsC^s were good for, it was climbing. So, asking 
 BtJtl to give him a start, he soon reached the limb 
 abOVii the one on which the raccoon was. Ralph 
 did not know how ugly a customer a raccoon can 
 
 * MoSw bad i&ngiish was once good English. Ketch was used by 
 writers or the Sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for catch. A New 
 Hampshire magistrate in the seventeenth century spells it caitch, and 
 probably pronounced it in that way. Ketch^ a boat, was sometimes 
 spelled catch by the first American colonists, and the far-fetched 
 de /Jvntion of the word from the Turkish may be one of the fancies 
 ^ etymologists, 
 
 * The derivation of raccoon from the French raton^ to which Mr. 
 Skeat gives currency, still holds its place in some of our standard die- 
 ionaries. If American lexicographers wou-kl only read the literature 4 
 of American settlement they would know that Mr. Skeat s citation 
 at a translation of Buffon is nearly two centuries too late. As early 
 %s 1612 Captain John Smith gives aroughcune as the aboriginal Vir 
 ginia word, and more than one New England writer used rackoon & 
 #ew years later, 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG,, 4$ 
 
 be, and so got credit for more courage than he had 
 With much peril to his legs from the raccoon s teeth 
 he succeeded in shaking the poor creature off among 
 the yelping brutes and yelling boys. Ralph could 
 not help sympathizing with the hunted animal, whicr 
 sold its life as dearly as possible, giving the dog? 
 many a scratch and bite. It seemed to him that he 
 , was like the raccoon, precipitated into the midsl o! 
 a party of dogs who would rejoice in worrying ** 
 life out, as Bull and his crowd were destroying th<, 
 poor raccoon. When Bull at last seized the raccoon 
 and put an end to it, Ralph could not but admire 
 the decided way in which he did it, calling to mine 
 Bud s comment, " Ef Bull once takes a holt, heaver, 
 and yarth * can t make him let go. * 
 
 But as they walked home, Bud carrying the rac 
 coon by the tail, Ralph felt that his hunt had nof 
 been in vain. He fancied that even red-eyed Bull 
 
 1 This prefixed y is a mark of a very illiterate or antique form of the 
 dialect. I have known piece yartken used for "a piece of earthed " 
 Jware], the preposition getting lost in the sound of the y. I leave h 
 o etymologists to determine its relation to that ancient prefix that 
 differentiates earn in one sense from yearn. But the article before s- 
 vowel may account for it if we consider it a corruption. " The earth 
 pronounced in a drawling way will produce the yvarth. In the New 
 York Documents is a letter from one Barnard Hodges, a settler in 
 Delaware in the days of Governor Andres, whose spelling indicates a 
 free use of the parasitic^. He writes " yunless," " yeunder " (under), 
 " yunderstanding," " yeuudertake," and "yeouffeis" (office). 
 
|4 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL MASTER, 
 
 walking uncomfortably close to his heels, respected 
 him more since he had climbed that tree. 
 
 " Purty peart kind of a master," remarked the old 
 man to Bud, after Ralph had gone to bed. " Guess 
 you better be a little easy on him. Hey ? " 
 
 But Bud deigned no reply. Perhaps because he 
 knew that Ralph heard the conversation through 
 he thin partition. 
 
 Ralph woke delighted to find it raining. He did 
 not want to hunt or fish on Sunday, and this steady 
 rain would enable him to make friends with Bud. 
 I do not know how he got started, but after break 
 fast he began to tell stories. Out of all the books 
 he had ever read he told story after story. And 
 " old man Means," and " old Miss Means," and Bud 
 Means, and Bill Means, and Sis Means listened 
 with great eyes while he told of Sinbad s adventures, 
 of the Old Man of the Sea, of Robinson Crusoe, of 
 Captain Gulliver s experiences in Liliptit, and o<f 
 Baron Munchausen s exploits. 
 
 Ralph had caught his fish. The hungry minds 
 Of thes^ backwoods people were refreshed with the 
 jiew life that came to their imaginations in these 
 stcries. For there was but one book in the Means 
 library, and that, a well-thumbed copy of "Cap 
 tain Riley s Narrative," had long since lost all 
 freshness. 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG. df 
 
 " I ll be dog-on d," said Bill, emphatically, " ef I 
 hadn t ruther hear the master tell them whoppin 
 yarns than to go to a circus the best day I ever seedff w 
 Bill could pay no higher compliment. 
 
 What Ralph wanted was to make a friend of Bud 
 
 * Like many of the ear-marks of this dialect, the verb * dog-on* 1 
 came from Scotland, presumably by the way of the north of Ireland. 
 A correspondent of The Nation calls attention to the use of " dagon* 
 as Scotch dialect in Barrie s " Little Minister," a recent book. On 
 examining that story, I find that the word has precisely the sense 
 of our Hooskr " dog-on," which is to be pronounced broadly as a 
 Hoosier pronounces dog " daug-on." If Mr. Barrie gives his a the 
 broad sound, his " dagon " is nearly identical with ** dog-on." Here 
 are some detached sentences from " The Litde Minister :" 
 
 * Beattie spoke for more than himself when he said : Dagon that 
 Manse! I never gie a swear but there it is glowering at me, " 
 4 Dagon religion, Rob retorted fiercely ; * t spoils a thing. " 
 
 * There was some angry muttering from the crowd, and young 
 Charles Yuill exclaimed, Dagon you, would you lord it ower us on 
 week-days as well as on Sabbaths ? " 
 
 44 Have you on your Sabbath shoon or have you no on your Sar> 
 bath shoon ? 4 Guid care you took I should ha e the dagont things 
 on ! retorted the farmer." 
 
 It will be seen that 4 dagont," as used above, is the Scotch form of 
 44 dog-oned." But Mr. Barrie uses the same form apparently for 
 " dog-on it " in the following passage : 
 
 * 4 Ay, there was Ruth when she was na wanted, but Eira. dagont 
 Jt looked as if Ezra had jumped clean out o the Bible . " 
 
 Strangely enough, thi? word as a verb is not to be found *n Jamie 
 son s dictionary of the Scottish dialect, but Jamieson gives 4< dugon" 
 as a noun. It is given in the supplement to Jamieson, however, as 
 * dogon," but still as a noun, with an ancient plural dogonis- It is 
 explained as "a term of contempt." The example cited by Jamie 
 son is Hogg s " Winter Tales," I. 292, and is as follows : 
 
 * What wad my father say if I were to marry a man that loot him 
 seT be thrashed by Tommy Potts, a great supple wi" a back nae stiffes 
 
46 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 It s a nice thing to have the seventy-four-gun ship 
 on your own side, and the more Hartsook admired 
 the knotted muscles of Bud Means the more he de 
 sired to attach him to himself. So, whenever he 
 struck out a peculiarly brilliant passage, he a r ixiously 
 watched Bud s eye. But the young Philistine kept 
 his own counsel. He listened, but said nothing, and 
 the eyes under his shaggy brows gave no sign. Ralph 
 could not tell whether those eyes were deep and 
 inscrutable or only stolid. Perhaps a little of both. 
 When Monday morning came, Ralph was nervous,, 
 He walked to school with Buck 
 
 than a willy brand ? . . . When one comes to close quarters wi him 
 he s but a dugon." 
 
 Ilalliwell and Wright give dogon as a noun, and mark it Anglo- 
 Norman, but they apparently know it only from Jamieson and tiie 
 supplement to Jamieson, where dogguin is cited from Cotgrave as 
 meaning " a filthie old curre," and doguin from Roquefort, defined 
 by " brutal, currish" [hargneux]. A word with the same orthog 
 raphy, Jogidn, is still used in French for puppy. It is of course a 
 question whether the noun dogon and its French antecedents are con 
 nected with the American verb dog-on. It is easy to conceive that 
 such an epithet as dogon might get itself mixed up with the word dog, 
 and so become an imprecation. For instance, a servant in the family 
 of a friend of mine in Indiana, wishing to resign her place before th 
 return of some daughters of the house whom she had never seen, an 
 nounced that she was going to leave " before them dog-on girls got 
 home." Here the word might have been the old epithet, or an ab 
 breviated participle. Dogged is apparently a corruption of dog-on in 
 the phrase " I ll be dogged." I prefer dog-on to dogone, because in 
 the dialect the sense of setting a dog on is frequently present to the 
 speaker, though far enough away from the primitive sense of the 
 perhaps,, 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG, 4f 
 
 "I guess you re a little skeered by what the old 
 man said, a rTt you ? H 
 
 Ralph was about to deny it, but on reflection con- 
 eluded that it was best to speak the truth. He said 
 that Mr. Means s description of the school had made 
 him feel a little down-hearted. 
 
 " What will you do with the tough boys ? You 
 a n t no match for em." And Ralph felt Bud s 
 eyes not only measuring his muscles, but scrutiniz 
 ing his countenance. He only answered: 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 " What would you do with me, for instance ? * 
 and Bud stretched himself up as if to shake out the 
 reserve power coiled up in his great muscles. 
 
 " I sha n t have any trouble with you." 
 
 " Why, I m the wust chap of all. I thrashed the 
 last master, myself/ 
 
 And again the eyes of Bud Means looked out 
 sharply from his shadowing btows to see the effect 
 of this speech on the slender young man. 
 
 " You won t thrash me, though," said Ralph. 
 
 " Pshaw ! I low I could whip you in an inch of 
 your life with my left hand, and nevei half try," said 
 young Means, with a threatening sneer. 
 
 " I know that as well as you do." 
 
 * Well, a n t you afraid of me, then ? " and 
 he looked sidewise at Ralph. 
 
48 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 " Not a bit,* said Ralph, wondering at his own 
 courage. 
 
 They walked on in silence a minute. Bud was 
 turning the matter over. 
 
 " Why a n t you afraid of me ? " he said presently. 
 
 " Because you and I are going to be friends." 
 
 " And what about t others ? " 
 
 "I am not afraid of all the other boys put to- 
 gether." 
 
 " You a n t ! The mischief ! How s that ? " 
 
 "Well, I m not afraid of them because you and 
 I are going to be friends, and you can whip all o! 
 them together. You ll do the fighting and I ll do 
 the teaching." 
 
 The diplomatic Bud only chuckled a little at this; 
 whether he assented to the alliance or not Ralph 
 could not tell. 
 
 When Ralph looked round on the faces of the 
 scholars the little faces full of mischief and curios 
 ity, the big faces full of an expression which was not 
 further removed than second-cousin from contempt 
 when young Hartsook looked into these faces, his 
 heart palpitated with stage-fright. There is no au 
 dience so hard to face as one of school-children, as 
 many a man has found to his cost. Perhaps it is 
 that no conventional restraint can keep down their 
 Daughter when you do or say anything ridiculous. 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG, $$ 
 
 Hartsook s first day was hurried and unsatisfac 
 tory. He was not master of himself, and conse 
 quently not master of anybody else. When even 
 ing came, there were symptoms of insubordination 
 through the whole school. Poor Ralph was sick at 
 heart. He felt that if there had ever been the 
 shadow of an alliance between himself and Bud, it 
 was all " off " now. It seemed to Hartsook that 
 even Bull had lost his respect for the teacher, 
 Half that night the young man lay awake. At last 
 comfort came to him. A reminiscence of the death 
 of the raccoon flashed on him like a vision. He 
 remembered that quiet and annihilating bite which 
 Bull gave. He remembered Bud s certificate, that 
 * Ef Bull once takes a holt, heaven and yarth can t 
 make him let go." He thought that what Flat 
 Creek needed was a bulldog. He would be a bull 
 dog, quiet, but invincible. He would take hold in 
 such a way that nothing should make him let go. 
 And then he went to sleep. 
 
 In the morning Ralph got out of bed slowly. He 
 put his clothes on slowly. He pulled on his boots in 
 a bulldog mood. He tried to move as he thought 
 Bull would move if he were a man. He ate with 
 deliberation, and looked everybody in the eyes with 
 a manner that made Bud watch him curiously. He 
 found himself continually comparing himself w *h? 
 
50 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 Bull. He found Bull possessing a strange fascina* 
 tix>n fo; him. He walked to school alone, the rest 
 having gone on before. He entered the school 
 room preserving a cool and dogged manner. He 
 saw in the eyes of the boys that there was mischief 
 6rewing. He did not dare sit down in his chair for 
 fear of a pin. Everybody looked solemn. Ralph 
 lifted the lid of his desk. " Bow-wow ! wow-wow ! " 
 It was the voice of an imprisoned puppy, and the 
 school giggled and then roared. Then everything 
 was quiet. 
 
 The scholars expected an outburst of wrath from 
 the teacher. For they had come to regard the 
 whole world as divided into two classes, the teacher 
 on the one side representing lawful authority, and 
 the pupils on the other in a state of chronic re 
 bellion. To play a trick on the master was an 
 evidence of spirit; to "lick" the master was to 
 be the crowned hero of Flat Creek district. Such 
 a hero was Bud Means; and Bill, who had less 
 muscle, saw a chance to distinguish himself on a 
 feeacher of slender frame. Hence the puppy in the 
 desk. 
 
 Ralph Hartsook grew red in the face when he 
 uaw the puppy. But the cool, repressed, bulldog 
 mood in which he had kept himself saved him. He 
 lifted the dog into his arms and stroked him until 
 
A PRIVATE LESSON FROM A BULLDOG, 5! 
 
 ^he laughter subsided. Then, in a solemn and set 
 way, he began : 
 
 " I am sorry," and he looked round the room 
 with a steady, hard eye everybody felt that there 
 was a conflict coming " I am sorry that any scholar 
 In this school could be so mean " the word was 
 uttered with a sharp emphasis, and all the big boys* 
 a lt sure that there would be a fight with Bill Means, 
 and perhaps with Bud " could be so mean as to 
 * shut up his brother in such a place as that ! " 
 
 There was a long, derisive laugh. The wit was 
 indifferent, but by one stroke Ralph had carried 
 the whole school to his side. By the significant 
 glances of the boys, Hartsook detected the perpe 
 trator of the joke, and with the hard and dogged 
 look in his eyes, with just such a look as Bull would 
 give a puppy, but with the utmost suavity in his 
 voice, he said : 
 
 " William Means, will you be so good as to put 
 this doj. out of doors ? " 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 A SPELL COMING. 
 
 THERE was a moment of utter stillness ; but tht, 
 magnetism of Ralph s eye was too much for Bill 
 Means. The request was so polite, the master s 
 look was so innocent and yet so determined. Bill 
 often wondered afterward that he had not " fit " 
 rather than obeyed the request. But somehow he 
 put the dog out. He was partly surprised, partly 
 inveigled, partly awed into doing just what he had 
 not intended to do. In the week that followed, 
 Bill had to fight half a dozen boys for calling him 
 "Puppy Means." Bill said he wished he d licked 
 the master on the spot. Twould V saved five fights 
 out of the six. 
 
 And all that day and the next, the bull-dog in 
 the master s eye was a terror to evil-doers. At the 
 close of school on the second day Bud wa.- heard 
 to give it as his opinion that "the master wouldn t 
 be much in a tussle, but he had a heap of t.lunder 
 and lightning in him." 
 
 Did he inflict corporal punishment ? Inquire* 
 
A SPELL COMING. 53 
 
 some philanthropic friend. Would you inflict cor- 
 poral punishment if you were tiger-trainer in Van 
 Amburgh s happy family ? But poor Ralph could 
 never satisfy his constituency in this regard. 
 
 " Don t believe he ll do," was Mr. Pete Jones s 
 comment to Mr. Means. " Don t thrash enough. 
 Boys won t Tarn less you thrash em, says I. 
 Leastways, mine won t. Lay it on good is what I 
 says to a master. Lay it on good. Don t do no 
 harm. Lickin and 1 arnin goes together. No 
 lickin , no 1 arnin , says I. Lickin and 1 arnin, lickin* 
 and larnin , is the good ole way." 
 
 And Mr. Jones, like some wiser people, was the 
 more pleased with his formula that it had an allitera 
 tive sound. Nevertheless, Ralph was master from 
 this time until the spelling-school came. If only 
 it had not been for that spelling-school! Many and 
 many a time after the night of the fatal spelling* 
 school Ralph used to say, " If only it had not been 
 for that spelling-school ! " 
 
 There had to be a spelling-school. Not only for 
 the sake of my story, which would not have been 
 worth the telling if the spelling-school had not 
 taken place, but because Flat Creek district had to 
 have a spelling-school. It is the only public literary 
 exercise known in Hoopole County. It takes the 
 place of lyceum lecture and debating club. Sis 
 
54 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Means, or, as she wished now to be called, Mirandy 
 Means, expressed herself most positively in favor 
 of it. She said that she lowed the folks in that 
 district couldn t in no wise do without it. But it 
 was rather to its social than to its intellectual bene 
 fits that she referred. For all the spelling-schools 
 ever seen could not enable her to stand anywhere 
 but at the foot of the class. There is one branch 
 diligently taught in a backwoods school. The pub 
 lic mind seems impressed with the difficulties of 
 English orthography, and there is a solemn convic 
 tion that the chief end of man is to learn to spell. 
 " Know Webster s Elementary came down from 
 Heaven," would be the backwoods version of the 
 Greek saying but that, unfortunately for the Greeks, 
 their fame has not reached so far. It often happens 
 that the pupil does not know the meaning of a 
 single word in the lesson. This is of no conse 
 quence. What do you want to know the meaning 
 of a word for ? Words were made to be spelled, 
 and men were probably created that they might 
 spell them. Hence the necessity for sending a 
 pupil through the spelling-book five times before 
 you allow him to begin to read, or indeed to do 
 ^anything else. Hence the necessity for those long 
 spelling-classes at the close of each forenoon and 
 afternoon session Pt the school, to stand at 
 
A SPELL COMING. f 
 
 head of which is the cherished ambition of every 
 scholar. Hence, too, the necessity for devoting the 
 whole of the afternoon session of each Friday to a 
 " spelling-match." In fact, spelling is the " na 
 tional game " in Hoopole County. Baseball and 
 croquet matches are as unknown as Olympian 
 chariot -races. Spelling and shucking 1 are the only 
 public competitions. 
 
 1 In naming the several parts of the Indian corn and the dishes 
 made from it, the English language was put to many shifts. Such 
 words as tassel and silk were poetically applied to the blossoms \ 
 stalk, blade, and ear ^vere borrowed from other sorts of corn, and the 
 Indian tongues were rorced to pay tribute to name the dishes bor 
 rowed from the savages. From them we have hominy, pone, sttpaivn, 
 and sttfcottuk. For other nouns words were borrowed from English 
 provincial dialects. Snzick is one of these. On the northern belt, 
 shucks are the outer covering of nuts ; in the middle and southern 
 regions the word is apohecr to what in New England is called the 
 husks of the corn. ShucK, however, is much more widely used than 
 husk in colloquial speech the farmers in more than half of the 
 U nited States are hardly acquainted with the word husk as applied to 
 the envelope of the ear. Husk, in the Middle States, and in some 
 parts of the South aad West, means the bran of Che cornmeal, as 
 notably in Davy Crockett s vers* : 
 
 " She sifted the meat, she gimme the bus } 
 
 She baked the breaor, she gimme the eras ; 
 
 She b iled the meat, she gimme the bone ; 
 
 She gimmu A kick ana .sent me home." 
 
 In parts of Virginia, before the war, the word husk or htis metm 
 the cob or spike of the corn. " I smack you over wid a cawn-hus* " 
 is a threat I have often heard one negro boy make to another. Cob 
 is provincial English for ear, and I have known "a cob of corn " 
 used in Canada for an ear of Indian corn. While writing this note 
 ** a cob of Indian corn " meaning an ear appears in the report of 
 
JO THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 So the fatal spelling-school had to be appointed 
 for the Wednesday of the second week of the ses. 
 sion, just when Ralph felt himself master of the 
 {situation. Not that he was without his annoy 
 ances. One of Ralph s troubles in the week before 
 the spelling-school was that he was loved. The 
 other that he was hated. And while the time be- 
 tween the appointing of the spelling tournament 
 and the actual occurrence of that remarkable event 
 is engaged in elapsing, let me narrate two incidents 
 made it for Ralph a trying time. 
 
 in address\ a distinguished man at a recent meeting of the Royal 
 Geographical Soci ety. A. lady tells me that she met, in the book of 
 fl.n English traveller, the remarkable statement that * the Americans 
 are very fond of the young grain called cob." These Indian-corn 
 words have reached an accepted meaning after a competition. To 
 shell corn, among the earliest settlers of Virginia, meant to take it out 
 of the envelope, which was presumably called the shell The anatomy 
 l with the shelling of pulse. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HIRANDY, HANK y AND SHOCKY, 
 
 MlRANDY had nothing but contempt for the new 
 tnaster until he developed the bulldog in his char 
 acter. Mirandy fell in love with the bulldog. Like 
 many other girls of her class, she was greatly enam 
 ored with the " subjection of women," and she stood 
 ready to fall in love with any man strong enough 
 to be her master. Much has been said of the 
 strong-minded woman. I offer this psychological 
 remark as a contribution to the natural history of 
 the weak-minded woman. 
 
 It was at the close of that very second day on 
 which Ralph had achieved his first victory over the 
 school, and in which Mirandy had been seized with 
 her desperate passion for him, that she told him 
 about it. Not in words. We do not allow that in 
 the most civilized countries, and still less would it 
 be tolerated in Hoopole County. But Mirandy 
 > told the master the fact that she was in love with 
 him, though no word passed her lips. She walked 
 by him from school. She cast at him what are 
 commonly called sheep s-eyes. Ralph thought them 
 
8 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL MASTER. 
 
 more like calf s eyes. She changed the whole tone 
 of her voice. She whined ordinarily. Now she 
 whimpered. And so by ogling him, by blushing at 
 him, by tittering at him, by giggling at him, by 
 snickering at him, by simpering at him, by making 
 herself tenfold more a fool even than nature had 
 made her, she managed to convey to the dismayed 
 soul of the young teacher the frightful intelligence 
 that he was loved by the richest, the ugliest, the 
 silliest, the coarsest, and the most entirely contemp 
 tible girl in Flat Creek district. 
 
 Ralph sat by the fire the next morning trying to 
 read a few minutes before school-time, while the 
 boys were doing the chores and the bound girl was 
 milking the cows, with no one in the room but the 
 old woman. She was generally as silent as Bud, 
 but now she seemed for some unaccountable reason 
 disposed to talk. She had sat down on the broad 
 hearth to have her usual morning smoke; the poplar 
 table, adorned by no cloth, stood in the middle of 
 the floor , the unwashed blue teacups sat in the un 
 washed blue saucers ; the unwashed blue plates kept 
 company with the begrimed blue pitcher. The dirty 
 skillets by the fire were kept in countenance by the 
 dirtier pots, and the ashes were drifted and strewn 
 over the hearth-stones in a most picturesque way. 
 
 66 You see/* said the old wo^an, knocking the 
 
MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKYc |$ 
 
 residuum from her cob pipe, and chafing some dry 
 leaf between her withered hands preparatory tc 
 filling it again, "you see, Mr. Hartsook, my ole 
 man s purty well along in the world. He s got e 
 right smart lot of this world s plunder, 1 one way 
 and another." And while she stuffed the tobacco 
 into her pipe Ralph wondered why she should men 
 tion it to him. " You see, we moved in here nigh 
 upon twenty-five years ago. Twas when my Jack f , 
 him as died afore Bud was born, was a baby. Bud ll 
 be twenty-one the fif of next June." 
 
 Here Mrs. Means stopped to rake a live coal out 
 of the fire with her skinny finger, and then to carry 
 it in her skinny palm to th^ bowl or to the hole* 
 of her cob pipe. When she got the smoke a-going, 
 she proceeded : 
 
 " You see, this yere bottom land was all Congress 
 Jand 2 in them there days, and it sold for a dollar 
 
 1 This word plunder is probably from Pennsylvania, as it is exactly 
 equivalent to the German word plunder, in the sense of household 
 effects, the original meaning of Uhe word in German. Any kind of 
 baggage may be called plunder, but themost accepted sense is house 
 hold goods. It is quite seriously used. I have seen bills of lading 
 on the Western wateus certifying that A. B. had shipped " I lot of 
 plunder; " that is, household goods. It is here used figuratively for 
 goods in general. 
 
 2 Congress land was the old designation for land owned by the 
 government. Under the Confederation, the Congress was the govern 
 ment, and the forms of speech seem to have long retained the notioa 
 that what belonged to the United States was the property of CongresSo 
 
5O THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 and a quarter, and I says to my ole man, Jack, 
 says I, Jack, do you git a plenty while you re 
 a-gittin*. Git a plenty \vhile you re a-gittin , says I, 
 *fer *twon t never be no cheaper n tis now, and it 
 ha n t been; I knowed twouldn t," and Mrs. Means 
 took the pipe from her mouth to indulge in a good 
 chuckle at the thought of her financial shrewdness. 
 1 Git a plenty while you re a-gittin , says I. I 
 could see, you know, they was a powerful sight of 
 money in Congress land. That s what made me say, 
 4 Git a plenty while you re a-gittin . And Jack, 
 he s wuth lots and gobs of money, all made out of 
 Congress land. Jack didn t git rich by hard work. 
 Bless you, no! Not him. That a n t his way. 
 Hard work a x n*t, you know. Twas that air six 
 hundred dollars he got along of me, all salted down 
 into Flat Crick bottoms at a dollar and a quarter a v 
 acre, and twas my sayin* Git a plenty while you re 
 a gittin* as done it." And here the old ogre 
 laughed, or grinned horribly, at Ralph, showing her 
 few straggling, discolored teeth. 
 
 Then she got up and knocked the ashes out of 
 her pipe, and laid the pipe away and walked round 
 in front of Ralph. After adjusting the chunks x so 
 
 2 The commonest use of the word chunk in the old days was for 
 the ends of the sticks of cord-wood burned in the great fireplaces. 
 As the sticks burned in two, the chunks fell down or rolled back on 
 
MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKY. 6r 
 
 that the fire would burn, she turned her yellow face 
 toward Ralph, and scanning him closely came out 
 with the climax of her speech in the remark: "You 
 see as how, Mr. Hartsook, the man what gits my 
 Mirandy ll do well. Flat Crick land s wuth niglr 
 upon a hundred a acre." 
 
 This gentle hint came near knocking Ralph down, 
 Had Flat Creek land been worth a hundred times 
 a hundred dollars an acre, and had he owned five 
 hundred times Means s five hundred acres, he would 
 have given it all just at that moment to have anni 
 hilated the whole tribe of Meanses. Except Bud. 
 Bud was a giant, but a good-natured one. He 
 thought he would except Bud from the general de 
 struction. As for the rest, he mentally pictured to 
 himself the pleasure of attending their funerals. 
 There was one thought, however, between him and 
 despair. He felt confident that the cordiality, the 
 intensity, and the persistency of his dislike of Sis 
 Means were such that he should never inherit a foot 
 of the Flat Creek bottoms. 
 
 the wall side of the andirons. By putting the chunks together, a new 
 fire was set a-going without fresh wood. This use of the word is 
 illustrated in a folk-rhyme or nursery jingle of the country which has 
 neither sense nor elegance to recommend it i 
 ** Old Mother Hunk 
 
 She got drunk 
 
 And fell in tue fire 
 
 And kicked up a chunk. w 
 
02 THE HOOSIER -SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 But what about Bud? What if he joined the 
 conspiracy to marry him to this weak-eyed, weak- 
 headed wood-nymph, or backwoods nymph ? 
 
 If Ralph felt it a misfortune to be loved by 
 Mirandy Means, he found himself almost equally 
 unfortunate in having incurred the hatred of the 
 meanest boy in school. " Hank " Banta, low-browed, 
 smirky, and crafty, was the first sufferer by Ralph s 
 determination to use corporal punishment, and so 
 Henry Banta, who was a compound of deceit and 
 resentment, never lost an opportunity to annoy the 
 young school-master, who was obliged to live per 
 petually on his guard against his tricks. 
 
 One morning, as Ralph walked toward the school- 
 house, he met little Shocky. What the boy s first 
 name or last name was the teacher did not know. 
 He had given his name as Shocky, and all the 
 teacher knew was that he was commonly called 
 Shocky, that he was an orphan, that he lived with 
 a family named Pearson over in Rocky Hollow, and 
 that he was the most faithful and affectionate child 
 in the school. On this morning that I speak oi 
 Ralph had walked toward the school early to avoid 
 the company of Mirandy. But not caring to sustain 
 his dignity longer than was necessary, he loitered 
 along the road, admiring the trunk* of the maples, 
 and picking up a beecn-nut now and then. Just su. 
 
MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKY, 63 
 
 he was about to go on toward the school, he caught 
 sight of little Shocky running swiftly toward him, 
 but looking from side to side, as if afraid of being 
 seen. 
 
 " Well, Shocky, what is it ? " and Ralph put his 
 hand kindly on the great bushy head of white hail 
 from which came Shocky s nickname. Shocky had 
 to pant a minute. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Hartsook," he gasped, scratching his 
 head, " they s a pond down under the school-house, 9 
 and here Shocky s breath gave out entirely for a 
 minute. 
 
 " Yes, Shocky, I know that. What about it? The 
 trustees haven t come to fill it up, have they ? " 
 
 "Oh! no, sir; but Hank Banta, you know * 
 
 and Shocky took another breathing spell, standing 
 as close to Ralph as he could, for poor Shocky got 
 all his sunshine from the master s presence. 
 
 " Has Henry fallen in and got a ducking, Shocky? " 
 "Oh! no, sir; he wants to git you in, you see." 
 " Well, I won t go in, though, Shocky." 
 " But, you see, he s been and gone and pulled 
 back the board that you have to step on to git ahind 
 your desk; he s been and gone and pulled back the 
 board so as you can t help a-tippin* it up, and 
 a-sowsin right in ef you step there." 
 
 "And so you came to tell me." There was a hus 
 
64 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 kiness in Ralph s voice. He had, then, one friend 
 in Flat Creek district poor little Shocky. He put 
 his arm around Shocky just a moment, and then 
 told him to hasten across to the other road, so as to 
 ;ome back to the school-house in a direction at 
 right angles to the master s approach. But the cau 
 tion was not needed. Shocky had taken care to 
 feave in that way, and was altogether too cunning 
 to be seen coming down the roac* "vith Mr. Hart- 
 sook. But after he got over the fence to go through 
 the " sugar camp " (or sugar orchard, as they say at 
 the East), he stopped and turned back once or 
 twice, just to catch one more smvie from Ralph. 
 And then he hied away through the tall trees, a very 
 happy boy, kicking and ploughing the brown leaves 
 before him in his perfect delight, saying over and 
 over again: "How he looked at me! how he did 
 look!" And when Ralph came up to the school- 
 house door, there was Shocky sauntering along from 
 the other direction, throwing bits of limestone at 
 fence rails, and smiling still clear down to his shoes 
 at thought of the master s kind words. 
 
 "What a quare boy Shocky is!" remarked Bet 
 sey Short, with a giggle. " He just likes to wander 
 round alone. I see him a-comin out of the sugar 
 camp just now. He s been in there half an hour." 
 And Betsey giggled again ; for Betsey Short could 
 
BETSY SHORT 
 
MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKY. 65 
 
 giggle on slighter provocation than any other girl 
 on Flat Creek. 
 
 When Ralph Hartsook, with the quiet, dogged 
 tread that he was cultivating, walked into the school* 
 room, he took great care not to seem to see the 
 trap set for him ; but he carelessly stepped over 
 the board that had been so nicely adjusted. The 
 boys who were Hank s confidants in the plot were 
 very busy over their slates, and took pains not to 
 show their disappointment. 
 
 The morning session wore on without incident, 
 Ralph several times caught two people looking at 
 him. One was Mirandy. Her weak and watery 
 eyes stole loving glances over the top of her spell 
 ing-book, which she would not study. Her looks 
 made Ralph s spirits sink to forty below zero, and 
 congeal. 
 
 But on one of the backless little benches that sat 
 in the middle of the school-room was little Shocky, 
 who also cast many love glances at the young mas 
 ter; glances as grateful to his heart as Mirandy s og 
 ling he was tempted to call it oaring was hateful 
 
 " Look at Shocky," giggled Betsey Short, behind 
 her slate. " He looks as if he was a-goin to eat the 
 master up, body and soul." 
 
 And so the forenoon wore on as usual, and those 
 virho laid the trap had forgotten it, themselves. The 
 
66 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 morning session was drawing to a close. The fire 
 in the great old fire-place had burnt low. The 
 flames, which seemed to Shocky to be angels, had 
 disappeared, and now the bright coals, which had 
 played the part of men and women and houses in 
 ( Shocky s fancy, had taken on a white and downy 
 covering of ashes, and the great half-burnt back-log 
 lay there smouldering like a giant asleep in a snow 
 drift. Shocky longed to wake him up. 
 
 As for Henry Banta, he was too much bothered 
 to get the answer to a " sum " he was doing, to re 
 member anything about his trap. In fact, he had 
 quite forgotten that half an hour ago in the all-ab 
 sorbing employment of drawing ugly pictures on 
 his slate and coaxing Betsey Short to giggle by 
 showing them slyly across the school-room. Once 
 or twice Ralph had been attracted to Betsey s ex 
 traordinary fits of giggling, and had come so near 
 to catching Hank that the boy thought it best not 
 to run any further risk of the beech switches, four 
 or five feet long, laid up behind the master in sight 
 of the school as a prophylactic. Hence his appli 
 cation just now to his " sum " in long division, and 
 hence his puzzled look, for, idler that he was, his 
 |" sums "did not solve themselves easily. As usual 
 In such cases, he came up in front of the master s 
 desk to have the difficulty explained. He had to 
 
MIRANDY,. HANK, AND SHGCKYo 67 
 
 wait a minute until Ralph got through with show 
 ing Betsey Short, who had been seized with a study- 
 ing fit, and who could hardly give any attention to 
 the teacher s explanations, she did want to giggle so 
 much ! Not at anything in particular, but just at 
 things in general. 
 
 While Ralph was " doing " Betsey s " sum " for* 
 her, he was solving a much more difficult question 
 A plan had flashed upon him, but the punishment 
 seemed a severe one. He gave it up once or twice, 
 but he remembered how turbulent the Flat Creek 
 elements were; and had he not inly resolved to be 
 as unrelenting as a bulldog ? He fortified himself 
 by recalling again the oft-remembered remark of 
 Bud, " Ef Bull wunst takes a holt, heaven and yarth 
 can t make him let go." And so he resolved to 
 give Hank and the whole school one good lesson. 
 
 " Just step round behind me, Henry, and you can 
 see how I do this," said Ralph. 
 
 Hank was entirely off his guard, and, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the slate on the teacher s desk, he sidled 
 round upon the broad loose board misplaced by 
 his own hand, and in an instant the other end of the 
 board rose up in the middle of the school-room,, 
 almost striking Shocky in the face, while Henry 
 Banta went down into the ice-cold water beneath 
 the schooHiouse. 
 
68 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 "Why, Henry!" cried Ralph, jumping to his feet 
 with well-feigned surprise. " How did\.\\\s happen ? " 
 and he helped the dripping fellow out and seated 
 him by the fire. 
 
 Betsey Short giggled. 
 
 Shocky was so tickled that he could hardly keep 
 his seat. 
 
 The boys who were in the plot looked very sen 
 ous indeed. 
 
 Ralph made some remarks by way of improving 
 the occasion. He spoke strongly of the utter mean 
 ness of the one who could play so heartless a trick 
 on a schoolmate. He said that it was as much 
 thieving to get your fun at the expense of another 
 as to steal his money. And while he talked, all eyes 
 were turned on Hank all except the eyes of Mi- 
 randy Means. They looked simperingly at Ralph. 
 All the rest looked at Hank. The fire had made 
 his face very red. Shocky noticed that. Betsey 
 Short noticed it, and giggled. The master wound 
 up with an appropriate quotation from Scripture. 
 He said that the person who displaced that board 
 had better not be encouraged by the success he 
 said success with a curious emphasis of the present 
 experiment to attempt another trick of the kind. 
 For it was set down in the Bible that if a man dug 
 a pit for the feet of another he would be very likely 
 
MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKY. 69 
 
 to fall in it himself. Which made all the pupils 
 look solemn, except Betsey Short, who giggled. 
 
 And Shocky wanted to. And Mirandy cast an ex 
 
 f 
 piring look at Ralph. And if the teacher was not 
 
 love-sick, he certainly was sick of Mirandy s love. 
 
 When school was " let out," Ralph gave Hank 
 every caution that he could about taking cold, andi 
 even lent him his overcoat, very much against 
 Hank s will. For Plank had obstinately refused to 
 go home before the school was dismissed. 
 
 Then the master walked out in a quiet and sub 
 dued way to spend the noon recess in the woods, 
 while Shocky watched his retreating footsteps with 
 loving admiration. And the pupils not in the se 
 cret canvassed the question of who moved the board. 
 Bill Means said he d bet Hank did it, which set 
 Betsey Short off in an uncontrollable giggle. And 
 Shocky listened innocently. 
 
 But that night Bud said slyly: "Thunder and 
 lightning ! what a manager you air, Mr. Hartsook ! " 
 To which Ralph returned no reply except a friendly 
 smile. Muscle paid tribute to brains that time. 
 
 But Ralph had no time for exultation;; for jur 
 foere came the spelling-school. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 
 
 "I LOW," said Mrs. Means, as she stuffed the to 
 bacco into her cob pipe after supper on that event 
 ful Wednesday evening: " I low they ll app int the 
 Squire to gin out the words to-night. They mos 
 always do, you see, kase he s the peartest ole man 
 in this deestrick; and I low some of the young fel 
 lers would have to git up and dust ef they would 
 keep up to him. And he uses sech remarkable 
 smart words. He speaks so polite, too. But laws! 
 don t I remember when he was poarer nor Job s 
 turkey ? Twenty year ago, when he come to these 
 ere diggin s, that air Squire Hawkins was a poar 
 Yankee school-master, that said pail instid of 
 bucket, and that called a cow a * caow, and that 
 
 r P~art or peert is only another form of the old word/^r^ proba 
 bly an older form. Bartlett cites an example of peart as far back as 
 Sir Philip Sidney; and Ilalliwell finds it in various English dialects. 
 Davies, afterward president of Princeton College, describes Dr. Lard 
 ner, in 1754, as "a little pert old gent." I do not know that Dr. 
 Davies pronounced his pert as though it were peart, but he uses it in 
 the sense it has in the text, viz., bright- witted, intelligent. The 
 general sense of peart is lively, either in body or mind 
 
 7Q 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER, ?% 
 
 couldn t tell to save his gizzard what we meant by 
 *low 1 and by right smart. 2 But he s larnt our ways 
 
 * Mr. Lowell suggested to me in 1869 that this word /cw has no 
 kinship with allow, but is an independent word for which he gave a 
 Low Latin original of similar sound. I have not been able to trace 
 any such word, but Mr. Lowell had so much linguistic knowledge of 
 the out-of-the-way sort that it may be worth while to record his im- 
 pression. Bartlett is wrong in defining this word, as he is usually i! ( 
 his attempts to explain dialect outside of New England. It does not! 
 mean " to declare, assert, maintain," etc. It is nearly the equivalent 
 of ^uess in the Northern and Middle States, and of reckon in the 
 South. It agrees precisely with the New England calk late. Like 
 all the rest of these words it may have a strong sense by irony. 
 When a man says, " I low that is a purty peart sort of a boss," he 
 understates for the sake of emphasis. It is rarely or never allow, but 
 simply /<?? . In common with calk late, it has sometimes a sense of 
 purpose or expectation, as when a man says^ " I low to go to town 
 to-morry." 
 
 a No phrase of the Hoosier and Southwestern dialect is such a 
 stumbling-block to the outsider as right smart. The writer from the 
 North or East will generally use it wrongly. Mrs. Stowe says, "* I 
 sold right smart of eggs," but the Hoosier woman as I knew her 
 would have said "a right smart lot of eggs " or "a right smart of 
 eggs," using the article and understanding the noun. A farmer omit- 
 ting the preposition boasts of having " raised right smart corn " this 
 year. No expression could have a more vague sense than this. IE 
 the early settlement of Minnesota it was a custom of the land officers 
 to require a residence of about ten days on " a claim " in order to the 
 establishment of a pre-emption right. One of the receivers at a land , 
 office under Buchanan s administration was a German of much intel= 
 Kgence who was very sensitive regarding his knowledge of English, 
 ** How long has the claimant lived on his claim ? " he demanded of 
 a Hoosier witness. " Oh, a right smart while," was the reply. The, 
 receiver had not the faintest notion of the meaning of the answer 
 but fearing to betray his ignorance of English he allowed the land tc 
 be entered, though the claimant bad spent but about two hours k. 
 residing on his quarter-section. 
 
L THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 now, an he s jest as civilized as the rest of us. You 
 would-n know he d ever been a Yankee. He didn t 
 stay poar long. Not he. He jest married a right 
 rich girl ! He! he! " And the old woman grinned 
 at Ralph, and then at Mirandy, and then at the rest, 
 until Ralph shuddered. Nothing was so frightful 
 to him as to be fawned on by this grinning ogre ? 
 whose few lonesome, blackish teeth seemed ready 
 to devour him. " He didn t stay poar, you bet a 
 hoss ! " and with this the coal was deposited on the 
 pipe, and the lips began to crack like parchment as 
 each puff of smoke escaped- " He married rich, 
 you see," and here another significant look at the 
 young master, and another fond look at Mirandy, 
 as she puffed away reflectively. " His wife hadn t 
 no book-larnin . She d been through the spellin - 
 book wunst, and had got as fur as asperity on it a 
 second time. But she couldn t read a word when 
 she was married, and never could. She warn t overly 
 smart. She hadn t hardly got the sense the law 
 allows. But schools was skase in them air days, and, 
 besides, book-larnin don t do no good to a woman. 
 Makes her stuck up. I never knowed but one gal 
 In my life as had ciphered into fractions, and she 
 was so dog-on stuck up that she turned up her nose 
 one night at a apple-peelin bekase I tuck a sheet 
 off the bed to splice out the table-cloth, which was 
 
BAJflA r * IMPROVED PLUNGE 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER, 73 
 
 father short. And the sheet was mos clean too* 
 Had-n been slep on more n wunst or twicet. But 
 I was goin fer to say that when Squire Hawkins 
 married Virginny Gray he got a heap o money, or, 
 what s the same thing mostly, a heap o good land, 
 And that s better n book-larnin , says I. Ef a gal 
 had gone clean through all eddication, and got to 
 the rule of three itself, that would-n buy a feathen 
 bed. Squire Hawkins jest put eddication agin the 
 gal s farm, and traded even, an ef ary one of *em 
 got swindled, I never heerd no complaints." 
 
 And here she looked at Ralph in triumph, her 
 hard face splintering into the hideous semblance 
 of a smile. And Mirandy cast a blushing, gushing, 
 all-imploring, and all-confiding look on the young 
 master. 
 
 " I say, ole woman," broke in old Jack, " I say^ 
 wot is all this ere spoutin about the Square fer ? " 
 and old Jack, having bit off an ounce of " pigtail, 9 * 
 returned the plug to his pocket. 
 
 As for Ralph, he fell into a sort of terror. He 
 had a guilty feeling that this speech of the old lady s 
 had somehow committed him beyond recall to Ml 
 randy. He did not see visions of breach-of-prom/se 
 suits. But he trembled at the thought of an aveng 
 ing big brother. 
 
 ** Hanner^ you kin come along, too, ef you re a 
 
?4 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTERo 
 
 mind, when you git the dishes washed," said Mrs, 
 Means to the bound girl, as she shut and latched 
 the back door. The Means family had built a new 
 house in front of the old one, as a sort of adver 
 tisement of bettered circumstances, an eruption of 
 shoddy feeling; but when the new building was 
 completed, they found themselves unable to occupy! 
 it for anything else than a lumber-room, and so, 
 except a parlor which Mirandy had made an effort 
 to furnish a little (in hope cf the blissful time when 
 somebody should " set up " with her of evenings), 
 the new building was almost unoccupied, and the 
 family went in and out through the back door, 
 which, indeed, was the front door also, for, accord 
 ing to a curious custom, the " front " of the house 
 was placed toward the south, though the " big 
 road " (Hoosier for highway) ran along the north 
 west side, or, rather, past the north-west corner 
 of it. 
 
 Wlren the old woman had spoken thus to Han 
 nah and had latched the door, she muttered, " That 
 gal don t never show no gratitude fer favors;" to 
 which Bud rejoined that he didn t think she had no 
 great sight to be pertickler thankful fer. To which 
 Mrs. Means made no reply, thinking it best, per 
 haps, not to wake up her dutiful son on so interest 
 ing a theme as her treatment of Hannah. Ralph 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER, ? 
 
 felt glad that he was this evening to go to another 
 boarding place. He should not hear the rest of the 
 controversy. 
 
 Ralph walked to the school-house with Bill, They 
 were friends again. For when Hank Banta s duck 
 ing and his dogged obstinacy in sitting in his wet 
 clothes had brought on a serious fever, Ralph had 
 called together the big boys, and had said: "We 
 must take care of one another, boys. Who will vol* 
 unteer to take turns sitting up with Henry ? " He 
 put his own name down, and all the rest followed, 
 
 " William Means and myself will sit up to-night, " 
 said Ralph. And poor Bill had been from that mo- 
 ment the teacher s friend. He was chosen to be 
 Ralph s companion. He was Puppy Means no 
 longer! Hank could not be conquered by kindness, 
 and the teacher was made to feel the bitterness of 
 his resentment long after. But Bill Means was for 
 the time entirely placated, and he and Ralph went 
 to spelling-school together. 
 
 Every family furnished a candle. There were ye] 
 low dips and white dips, burning, smoking, and flar 
 ing. There was laughing, and talking, and giggling, 
 and simpering, and ogling, and flirting, and court 
 ing. What a full-dress party is to Fifth Avenue, 
 a spelling-school is to Hoopole County. It is an 
 occasion which is metaphorically inscribed with 
 
76 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 this legend : " Choose your partners." Spelling is 
 only a blind in Hoopole County, as is dancing on 
 Fifth Avenue. But as there are some in society 
 who love dancing for its own sake, so in Flat Creek 
 district there were those who loved spelling for its 
 own sake, and who, smelling the battle from afar, 
 had come to try their skill in this tournament, hop- 
 Ing to freshen the laurels they had won in their 
 school-days. 
 
 " I low," said Mr. Means, speaking as the princi 
 pal school trustee, " I low our friend the Square is 
 jest the man to boss this ere consarn to-night. Ef 
 nobody objects, I ll app int him. Come, Square, 
 don t be bashful. Walk up to the trough, fodder or 
 no fodder, as the man said to his donkey." 
 
 There was a general giggle at this, and many of 
 the young swains took occasion to nudge the girls 
 alongside them, ostensibly for the purpose of mak 
 ing them see the joke, but really for the pure pleas- 
 are of nudging. The Greeks figured Cupid as naked, 
 probably because he wears so many disguises that 
 fchey could not select a costume for him. 
 
 The Squire came to the front. Ralph made an 
 inventory of the agglomeration which bore the 
 Game of Squire Hawkins, as follows: 
 
 i. A swallow-tail coat of indefinite age, worn only 
 on state occasions, when its owner was called to fig- 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 77 
 
 are in his public capacity. Either the Squire had 
 grown too large or the coat too small. 
 
 2. A pair of black gloves, the most phenomenal, 
 abnormal, and unexpected apparition conceivable 
 in Flat Creek district, where the preachers wore no 
 coats in the summer, and where a black glove was 
 never seen except on the hands of the Squire. 
 
 3. A wig of that dirty, waxen color so common to 
 wigs. This one showed a continual inclination to 
 slip off the owner s smooth, bald pate, and the Squire 
 had frequently to adjust it. As his hair had been 
 red, the wig did not accord with his face, and the 
 Stir ungrayed was doubly discordant with a coun- 
 
 Oance shrivelled by age. 
 
 4. A semicircular row of whiskers hedging the 
 edge of the jaw and chin. These were dyed a fright 
 ful dead-black, such a color as belonged to no natu 
 ral hair or beard that ever existed. At the roots 
 there was a quarter of an inch of white, giving the 
 whiskers the appearance of having been stuck on. 
 
 5. A pair of spectacles "with tortoise-shell rirn/ 
 \Wont to slip off. 
 
 6. A glass eye, purchased of a peddler, and differ 
 ing in color from its natural mate, perpetually get 
 ting out of focus by turning in or out,, 
 
 7. A set of false teeth, badly fitted, and given to 
 bobbing up and down, 
 
78 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 8. The Squire proper, to whom these patches 
 were loosely attached. 
 
 It is an old story that a boy wrote home to his 
 father begging him to come West, because " mighty 
 mean men get into office out here. * But Ralph 
 concluded that some Yankees had taught school ir 
 Hoopole County who would not have held a high 
 place in the educational institutions of Massachu 
 setts. Hawkins had some New England idioms, 
 but they were well overlaid by a Western pronunci 
 ation. 
 
 11 Ladies and gentlemen," he began, shoving up 
 his spectacles, and sucking his lips over his white 
 teeth to keep them in place, " ladies and gentlemen, 
 young men and maidens, raley I m obleeged to Mr, 
 Means fer this honor," and the Squire took both 
 hands and turned the top of his head round half 
 an inch. Then he adjusted his spectacles. Whether 
 he was obliged to Mr. Means for the honor of being 
 compared to a donkey was not clear. " I feel in 
 the inmost compartments of my animal spirits a 
 most happifying sense of the success and futility o 
 all my endeavors to sarve the people of Flat Creek 
 deestrick, and the people of Tomkins township, in 
 my weak way and manner." This burst of elo 
 quence was delivered with a constrained arr and an 
 apparent sense of a danger that he, Squire Hawkins^ 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 79 
 
 might fall to pieces in his weak way and manner, 
 and of the success and futility of all attempts at re 
 construction. For by this time the ghastly pupil 
 of the left eye, which was black, was looking away 
 round to the left, while the little blue one on the right 
 twinkled cheerfully toward the front. The front 
 teeth would drop down so that the Squire s mouth 
 was kept nearly closed, and his words whistled 
 through. 
 
 " I feel as if I could be grandiloquent on this in^ 
 teresting occasion," twisting his scalp round, " but 
 raley I must forego any such exertions. It is spell 
 ing you want. Spelling is the corner-stone, the 
 grand, underlying subterfuge, of a good eddication. 
 I put the spellin -book prepared by the great Daniel 
 Webster alongside the Bible. I do, raley. I think 
 I may put it ahead of the Bible. For if it wurn t 
 fer spellin -books and sich occasions as these, where 
 would the Bible be? I should like to know. The 
 man who got up, who compounded this work of in 
 extricable valoo was a benufactor to the whole hu 
 man race cr any other." Here the spectacles fell 
 .off. The Squire replaced them in some confusion, 
 gave the top of his head another twist, and felt of 
 his glass eye, while poor Shocky stared in wonder f 
 and Betsey Short rolled from side to side in the 
 effort to suppress her giggle, Mrs. Means 3*>-d the 
 
8O THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 other old ladies looked the applause they could 
 not speak. 
 
 " I app int Larkin Lanham and Jeems Buchanan 
 fer captings," said the Squire. And the two young 
 men thus named took a stick and tossed it from 
 hand to hand to decide which should have the " first; 
 choice." One tossed the stick to the other, who held 
 it fast just where he happened to catch it. Then 
 the first placed his hand above the second, and so 
 the hands were alternately changed to the top. 
 The one who held the stick last without room for 
 the other to take hold had gained the lot. This 
 was tried three times. As Larkin held the stick 
 twice out of three times, he had the choice. He 
 hesitated a moment. Everybody looked toward 
 tall Jim Phillips. But Larkin was fond of a venture 
 on unknown seas, and so he said, " I take the mas 
 ter, * while a buzz of surprise ran round the room, 
 and the captain of the other side, as if afraid his op~ 
 ponent would withdraw the choice, retorted quickly, 
 and with a little smack of exultation and defiance 
 in his voice, "And /take Jeems Phillips." 
 
 And soon all present, except a few of the old 
 folks, found themselves ranged in opposing hosts, 
 the poor spellers lagging in, with what grace they 
 could, at the foot of the two divisions. The Squire 
 opened his spelling-book and began to give out the 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 8l 
 
 words to the two captains, who stood up and spelled 
 against each other. It was not long until Larkin 
 spelled " really " with one /, and had to sit down ip 
 confusion, while a murmur of satisfaction ran 
 through the ranks of the opposing forces. His own 
 side bit their lips. The slender figure of the young 
 teacher took the place of the fallen leader, and the 
 excitement made the house very quiet. Ralph 
 dreaded the loss of prestige he would suffer if he 
 should be easily spelled down. And at the moment 
 of rising he saw in the darkest corner the figure of 
 a well-dressed young man sitting in the shadow. 
 Why should his evil genius haunt him ? But by a 
 strong effort he turned his attention away from Dr. 
 Small, and listened carefully to the words which the 
 Squire did not pronounce very distinctly, spelling 
 them with extreme deliberation. This gave him an 
 air of hesitation which disappointed those on his 
 own side. They wanted him to spell with a dashing 
 assurance. But he did not begin a word until he 
 had mentally felt his way through it. After ten 
 minutes of spelling hard words Jeems Buchanan, 
 the captain on the other side, spelled " atrocious " 
 with an s instead of a c, and subsided, his first choice, 
 Jeems Phillips, coming up against the teacher. This 
 brought the excitement to fever-heat. For though 
 Ralph was chosen first, it was entirely on trust, and 
 
82 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 most of the company were disappointed. The 
 champion who now stood up against the school-mas 
 ter was a famous spelier. 
 
 Jim Phillips was a tall, lank, stoop-shouldered 
 fellow who kad never distinguished himself in any 
 other pursuit than spelling. Except in this one art 
 of spelling he was of no account. He could not 
 . catch well or bat well in ball. He could not throw 
 well enough to make his mark in that famous West 
 ern game of bull-pen. He did not succeed well in 
 any study but that of Webster s Elementary. But 
 in that he was to use the usual Flat Creek locution 
 in that he was " a hoss." This genius for spelling 
 is in some people a sixth sense, a matter of intuition. 
 Some spellers are born, and not made, and their 
 facility reminds one of the mathematical prodigies 
 that crop out every now and then to bewilder the 
 world. Bud Means, foreseeing that Ralph would be 
 pitted against Jim Phillips, had warned his friend that 
 Jim could "spell like thunder and lightning," and that 
 It " took a powerful smart speller " to beat him, for he 
 knew " a heap of spelling-book." To have " spelled 
 down the master " is next thing to having whipped 
 the biggest bully in Hoopole County, and Jim had 
 J" spelled down " the last three masters. He divided 
 the hero-worship of the district with Bud Means. 
 
 For half an hour the Squire gave out hard words* 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 8$ 
 
 What a blessed thing our crooked orthography is 
 Without it there could be no spelling-schools. As 
 Ralph discovered his opponent s mettle he became 
 more and more cautious. He was now satisfied that 
 Jim would eventually beat him. The fellow evi 
 dently knew more about the spelling-book than old 
 Noah Webster himself. As he stood there, with 
 his dull face and long sharp nose, his hands behind 
 his back, and his voice spelling infallibly, it seemed 
 to Hartsookthat his superiority mu^t lie in his nose. 
 Ralph s cautiousness answered a double purpose; 
 tt enabled him to tread surely, and it was mistaken 
 by Jim for weakness. Phillips was now confident 
 that he should carry off the scalp of the fourth 
 school-master before the evening was over. He 
 spelled eagerly, confidently, brilliantly. Stoop- 
 shouldered as he was, he began to straighten up 
 In the minds of all the company the odds were in 
 his favor. He saw this, and became ambitious to 
 distinguish himself by spelling without giving the 
 matter any thought. 
 
 Ralph always believed that he would have been 
 speedily defeated by Phillips had it not been for twa 
 thoughts which braced him. The sinister shadow* 
 of young Dr. Small sitting in the dark corner by 
 the water-bucket nerved him. A victory over Phillips 
 was a defeat to one who wished only ill to the young 
 
84 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 school-master. The other thought that kept his 
 pluck alive was the recollection of Bull. He ap 
 proached a word as Bull approached the raccoon. 
 He did not take hold until he was sure of his game. 
 V hen he took hold, it was with a quiet assurance 
 of success. As Ralph spelled in this dogged way 
 for half an hour the hardest words the Squire could 
 find, the excitement steadily rose in all parts of the 
 house, and Ralph s friends even ventured to whisper 
 that "maybe Jim had cotched his match, after 
 all!" 
 
 But Phillips never doubted of his success. 
 
 "Theodolite," said the Squire. 
 
 " T-h-e, the, o-d, od, theod, o, theodo, 1-y-t-e, the 
 odolite," spelled the champion. 
 
 " Next," said the Squire, nearly losing his teeth 
 in his excitement. Ralph spelled the word slowly 
 and correctly, and the conquered champion sat down 
 in confusion. The excitement was so great for some 
 minutes that the spelling was suspended. Every- 
 >ody in the house had shown sympathy with one or 
 the other of the combatants, except the silent 
 shadow in the corner. It had not moved during 
 the contest, and did not show any interest now in 
 the result. 
 
 " Gewhilliky crickets! Thunder and lightning 
 Licked him all to smash ! " said Bud, rubbing his 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 85 
 
 hands on his knees. " That beats my time all hol 
 ler!" 
 
 And Betsey Short giggled until her tuck-comb 
 fell out, though she was on the defeated side. 
 
 Shocky got up and danced with pleasure. 
 
 But one suffocating look from the aqueous eyes 
 of Mirandy destroyed the last spark of Ralph s 
 pleasure in his triumph, and sent that awful below- 
 zero feeling all through him. 
 
 " He s powerful smart, is the master," said old 
 Jack to Mr. Pete Jones. " He ll beat the whole kit 
 and tuck of y eni afore he s through. I know d he 
 was smart. That s the reason I tuck him," pro 
 ceeded Mr. Means. 
 
 " Yaas, but he don t lick enough. Not nigh," an 
 swered Pete Jones. " No Kckin , no larnin , says I." 
 
 It was now not so hard. The other spellers on 
 the opposite side went down quickly under the 
 hard words which the Squire gave out. The mas 
 ter had mowed down all but a few, his opponents 
 had given up the battle, and all had lost their keen 
 interest in a contest to which there could be but 
 one conclusion, for there were only the poor spellers 
 left. But Ralph Hartsook ran against a stump 
 where he was least expecting it. It was the Squire s 
 custom, when one of the smaller scholars or poorer 
 spellers rose to spell against the master, to give out 
 
S6 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 eight or ten easy words, that they might have some 
 breathing-spell before being slaughtered, and then 
 to give a poser or two which soon settled them. 
 He let them run a little, as a cat does a doomed 
 tnouse. There was now but one person left on the 
 opposite side, and, as she rose in her blue calico 
 dress, Ralph recognized Hannah, the bound girl at 
 old Jack Means s. She had not attended school in 
 the district, and had never spelied in spelling-school 
 before, and was chosen last as an uncertain quan 
 tity. The Squire began with easy words of two 
 syllables, from that page of Webster, so well known 
 to all who ever thumbed it, as " baker," from the 
 word that stands at the top of the page. She 
 spelled these words in an absent and uninterested 
 manner. As everybody knew that she would have 
 to go down as soon as this preliminary skirmishing 
 was over, everybody began to get ready to go 
 home, and already there was the buzz of prepara 
 tion. Young men were timidly asking girls if " they 
 could see them safe home," which was the approved 
 formula, and were trembling in mortal fear of " the 
 mitten." Presently the Squire, thinking it time tc 
 close the contest, pulled his scalp forward, adjusted 
 his glass eye, which had been examining his nose 
 long enough, and turned over the leaves of the book 
 to the great words at the place known to spellers 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER. 8/ 
 
 as " incomprehensibility," and began to give out 
 those " words of eight syllables with the accent on 
 the sixth/ Listless scholars now turned roundj, 
 and ceased to whisper, in order to be in at the mas 
 ter s final triumph. But to their surprise " ole 
 Miss Meanses* white nigger," as some of thenr 
 called her in allusion to her slavish life, spelled/ 
 these great words with as perfect ease as the mas 
 ter. Still not doubting the result, the Squire 
 turned from place to place and selected all the hard 
 words he could find. The school became utterly 
 quiet, the excitement was too great for the ordi 
 nary buzz. Would " Meanses Hanner" beat the 
 master ? beat the master that had laid out Jim 
 Phillips ? Everybody s sympathy was now turned 
 to Hannah. Ralph noticed that even Shocky had 
 deserted him, and that his face grew brilliant every 
 time Hannah spelled a word. In fact, Ralph de 
 serted himself. As he saw the fine, timid face of 
 the girl so long oppressed flush and shine with in 
 terest ; as he looked at the rather low but broad and 
 intelligent brow and the fresh, white complexion, 
 and saw the rich, womanly nature coming to the 
 surface under the influence of applause and sym 
 pathyhe did not want to beat. If he had not felt 
 that a victory given would insult her, he would 
 have missed intentionally. The bulldog, the stern^ 
 
88 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 relentless setting of the will, had gone, he knew 
 not whither. And there had come in its place, as 
 he looked in that face, a something which he did 
 not understand. You did not, gentle reader, the 
 first time it came to you. 
 
 The Squire was puzzled. He had given out all 
 the hard words in the book. He again pulled the 
 top of his head forward. Then he wip^d his spec 
 tacles and put them on. Then out of the depths 
 of his pocket he fished up a list of words just corn 
 ing into use in those days words not in the spell- 
 ling-book. He regarded the paper attentively with 
 his blue right eye. His black left eye meanwhile 
 fixed itself in such a stare on Mirandy Means that 
 she shuddered and hid her eyes in he* red silk 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Daguerreotype," sniffed the Squire. It was 
 Ralph s turn. 
 
 D-a-u, dau " 
 
 " Next." 
 
 And Hannah spelled it right. 
 
 Such a buzz followed that Betsey Shorf s giggk 
 could not be heard, but Shocky shouted : " Hanner 
 beat! my Hanner spelled down the master! " And 
 Ralph went over and congratulated her. 
 
 And Dr. Small sat perfectly still in the corner. 
 
 And then the Squire called them to order, and 
 
SPELLING DOWN THE MASTER, 89 
 
 said: "As our friend Hanner Thomson is the only 
 one left on her side, she will have to spell against 
 nearly all on t other side. I shall therefore take 
 the liberty of procrastinating the completion of this 
 interesting and exacting contest until to-morrow 
 evening. I hope our friend Hanner may again 
 carry off the cypress crown of glory. There is 
 nothing better for us than healthful and kindly 
 simulation." 
 
 Dr. Small, who knew the road to practice, es 
 corted Mirandy, and Bud went home with some 
 body else. The others of the Means family hurried 
 on, while Hannah, the champion, stayed behind a 
 minute to speak to Shocky. Perhaps it was because 
 Ralph saw that Hannah must go alone that he sud 
 denly remembered having left something which was 
 of no consequence, and resolved to go round by 
 Mr. Meaas s ad get it 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE WALK HOME. 
 
 You expect me to describe that walk. You have 
 lhad enough of the Jack Meanses and the Squire 
 Hawkinses, and the Pete Joneses, and the rest. 
 You wish me to tell you now of this true-he&rted 
 girl and her lover; of how the silvery moonbeams 
 came down in a shower to use Whittier s favorite 
 metaphor through the maple boughs, flecking the 
 frozen ground with light and shadow. You would 
 have me tell of the evening star, not yet gone 
 down, which shed its benediction on them. But I 
 shall do no such thing. For the moon was not 
 shining, neither did the stars give their light. The 
 tall, black trunks of the maples swayed and shook 
 !n the wind, which moaned through their leafless 
 boughs. Novelists always make lovers walk in the 
 moonlight. But if love is not, as the cynics be* 
 lieve, all moonshine, it can at least make its own 
 light. Moonlight is never so little needed or heeded, \ 
 never so much of an impertinence, as in a love- 
 scene. It was at the bottom of the first hollow 
 
 JSP 
 
THE WALK HOME, 9B 
 
 beyond the school-hou&e that Ralph overtook the 
 timid girl walking swiftly through the dark. He 
 did not ask permission to walk with her. Love 
 does not go by words, and there are times when 
 conventionality is impossible. There are people 
 who understand one another at once. When one 
 soul meets another, it is not by pass-word, nor by 
 kailing sign, nor by mysterious grip that they rec 
 ognize. The subtlest freemasonry in the world is 
 this freemasonry of the spirit. 
 
 Ralph and Hannah knew and trusted. Ralph 
 had admired and wondered at the quiet drudge. 
 But it was when, in the unaccustomed sunshine ol 
 praise, she spread her wings a little, that he loved 
 her. He had seen her awake. 
 
 You, Miss Amelia, wish me to repeat all their 
 love-talk. I am afraid you d find it dull. Love 
 can pipe through any kind of a reed. Ralph talked 
 love to Hannah when he spoke of the weather, ol 
 the crops, of the spelling-school. Weather, crops> 
 and spelling-school these were what hij words 
 would say if reported. But below all these com- 
 Cnonplaces there vibrated something else. One can 
 make love a great deal better when one doesn t 
 speak of love. Words are so poor! Tones and 
 modulations are better. It is an old story that 
 Whitefield could make an audience weep by hit 
 
g THE FOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 way of pronouncing the word Mesopotamia. A 
 k> v er can sound the whole gamut of his affection in 
 saying Good-morning. The solemnest engagements 
 ever made have been without the intervention o r 
 speech. 
 
 And you, my Gradgrind friend, you think me 
 sentimental. Two young fools they were, walking 
 so slowly though the night was sharp, dallying 
 under the trees, and dreaming of a heaven they 
 could not have realized if all their wishes had been 
 granted. Of course they were fools! Either they 
 were fools to be so happy, or else some other peo 
 ple are fools not to be. After all, dear Gradgrind, 
 let them be. There s no harm in it. They ll get 
 trouble enough before morning. Let them enjoy 
 the evening. \ am not sure but these lovers whom 
 we write down fools are the only wise people, after 
 all. Is it not wise to be happy ? Let them alone. 
 
 For the first time in three years, for the frrst 
 time since she had crossed the threshold of " Old 
 Jack Means" and come under the domination of 
 Mrs. Old Jack Means, Hannah talked cheerfully^ 
 almost gayly. It was something to have a compan 
 ion to talk to. It was something to be the victor 
 even in a spelling match, and to be applauded even 
 by Flat Creek. And so, chatting earnestly about 
 the most uninteresting themes, Ralph courteously 
 
THE WALK HOME. 93 
 
 helped Hannah over the fence, and they took the 
 usual short-cut through the "blue-grass pasture." 
 There came up a little shower, hardly more than a 
 sprinkle, but then it was so nice to have a shower 
 just as they reached the box-elder tree by th 
 spring ! It was so thoughtful in Ralph to suggest 
 that the shade of a box-elder is dense, and that 
 Hannah might take cold ! And it was so easy for 
 Hannah to yield to the suggestion ! Just as though 
 she had not milked the cows in the open lot in the 
 worst storms of the last three years! And just as 
 though the house were not within a stone s-throw \ 
 Doubtless it was not prudent to stop here. But 
 let us deal gently with them. Who would not stay 
 in an earthy paradise ten minutes longer, even 
 though it did make purgatory the hotter afterward ? 
 And so Hannah stayed. 
 
 "Tell roe your circumstances,* said Ralph, at 
 last. " I am sure I can help you in something. * 
 
 " No, no ! you cannot," and Hannah s face was, 
 clouded. " No one can help me. Only time and 
 God. I must go, Mr. Hartsook. * And they walked 
 on to the front gate in silence and in some con 
 straint. But still in happiness. 
 
 As they came to the gate, Dr. Small pushed past 
 them in his cool, deliberate ivay. and mounted his 
 Ralph bade Hannah good-night, having ei* 
 
V, THE HOOKER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 ttrely forgotten the errand which had been h ex 
 ctife to himself for coming out of his way. He 
 hastened to his new home, the house of Mr. Pete 
 Jones, the same who believed in the inseparable* 
 ess of " lickin and larninV 
 
 M You re a purty gal, a n t you ? You re a purty 
 gal, a n t yoit? Y<m air! Yes, you and 
 
 Mrs, Means seemed so impressed with Hannah s 
 prettinest that she choked on it, and could get no 
 further. **A purty gal! you! Yes! you air a 
 mighty purty gal!" and the old woman s voice 
 rose till it could nave been heard half a mile. "To 
 be a-santerin* along the big road after ten o clock 
 with the master! Who knows whether he s a fit 
 man fer anybody to go with ? Arter all I ve been 
 and gone and done fer you! That s the way you 
 pay me! Disgrace me! Yes, I say disgrace 
 You re a mean, deceitful thing. Stuck up bekase 
 you spelt the master down. Ketch mt lettin you 
 got to speUin -tchoo! tomorry night! Ketch ME! 
 Yes, ketch ME, I iayf 
 
 " Looky here, marm," s&d Bud, "it seems to me 
 f ou re a-maksn* a blac&ed f urss about nothin*. Don t 
 yell so s they ll bear you three or four mile. You 11 
 have everybody tween here and Clifty waked up.** 
 For Mrs. Means had become so excited over the 
 idea of being caught allowing Hannah to go to 
 
THE WALK HOME. 9$ 
 
 speOing*chool that she had raised her list M Ketch 
 me! to a perfect whoop. 
 
 * That s the way I m treated,** whimpered the old 
 
 woman, who knew how to take the " injured mno 
 
 rence" dodge as well as anybody. "That s die 
 
 -: - ~ - - V - :.. > : - - -= .: : :-._.: 
 
 :. - / -/.: y .: : v, - . 
 
 keer how much trouble I have. Not you. Net a 
 dogWd bit. I may be disgraced by that air on- 
 grateful critter, and yon set right here in my own 
 :. -- - -.- :-, : : .. ; -,.- ", . , . 
 
 air! An* me anlehrin* and a-<irudgin fer you all 
 my born days. A party son, aVt you ? " 
 
 Bod did not say another word. He sat in the 
 :: --;. : . r -,r :.- .: : I ; f - 
 
 ;.-/- :: r : . -. - - - . 
 
 - ---:-:- -.- . - - :-.- -.- .-:, . 
 poured her broadside into his iron<lad feeliaags, 
 Hannah had slipped up the stairs to her garret bed 
 room, and when Mrs. Means turned from the cal 
 
 ke could only gnash her teeth in 
 
 S: .- y : :.- - ; . . : : . - - . .-. 5 -. - : 
 
 Hannah lay awake nntO die 
 
 that walk through die darkness came into her 
 like a benediction. The harsh voice of the scold 
 oSed out, and the gentle and 
 
96 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 Hartsook filled her soul. She recalled piece by 
 piece the whole conversation all the commonplace 
 remarks about the weather; all the insignificant re 
 marks about the crops; all the unimportant words 
 about the spelling-school. Not for the sake of the 
 remarks. Not for the sake of the weather. Not 
 for the sake of th^ crops. Not for the sake of the 
 spelling-school. But for the sake of the undertone. 
 And then she traveled back over the three years of 
 her bondage and forward over the three years to 
 come, and fed her heart on the dim hope of re 
 building in some form the home that had been 
 so happy. And she prayed, with more faith than 
 ever before, for deliverance. For love brings faith. 
 Somewhere on in the sleepless night she stood at 
 the window. The moon was shining now, ancj there 
 was the path through the pasture, and there was 
 the fence, and there was the box-elder. 
 
 She sat there a long time. Then she saw some 
 one come over the fence and walk to the tree, and 
 then on toward Pete Jones s. Who could it be? 
 She thought she recognized the figure. But she 
 was chilled and shivering, and she crept back again 
 into bed, and dreamed not of the uncertain days to 
 come, but of the blessed days that were past of a 
 father and a mother and a brother in a happy home. 
 But somehow the school-master was there too. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A NIGHT AT PETE JONES S. 
 
 WHEN Ralph got to Pete Jones s he found that 
 Krister-looking individual in the act of kicking one 
 of his many dogs out of the house. 
 
 " Come in, stranger, come in. You ll find this 
 ere house full of brats, but I guess you kin kick 
 vour way around among em. Take a cheer. Here, 
 git out! go to thunder with you ! " And with these 
 mild imperatives he boxed one of his boys over in 
 one direction and one of his girls over in the other, 
 u I believe in trainin up children to mind when 
 they re spoke to," he said to Ralph apologetically. 
 But it seemed to the teacher that he wanted them 
 to mind just a little before they were spoken to. 
 
 " P raps you d like a bed. Well, jest climb up 
 the ladder on the outside of the house. Takes up 
 a thunderin* sight of room to have a stairs inside, 
 and we ha n t got no room to spare. You ll find a 
 bed in the furdest corner. My Pete s already got 
 half of it, and you can take t other half. Ef Pete 
 goes to takin* his half in the middle, and tryin* to 
 make you take yourn on both sides, jest kick 
 
98 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 In this comfortless bed " in the furdest corner/ 
 Ralph found sleep out of the question. Pete took 
 three-fourths of the bed, and Hannah took all of 
 his thoughts. So he lay, and looked out through 
 the cracks in the " clapboards " (as they call rough 
 shingles in the old West) at the stars. For the 
 Clouds had now broken away. And he lay thus 
 . ecounting to himself, as a miser counts the pieces 
 that compose his hoard, every step of that road 
 from the time he had overtaken Hannah in the 
 hollow to the fence. Then he imagined again the 
 pleasure of helping her over, and then he retraced 
 the ground to the box-elder tree at the spring, and 
 repeated to himself the conversation until he came 
 to the part in which she said that only time and 
 God could help her. What did she mean ? What 
 was the hidden part of her life ? What was the 
 connection between her and Shocky ? 
 
 Hours wore on, and still the mind of Ralph Hart- 
 sook went back and traveled the same road, over 
 the fence, past the box-elder, up to the inexplicable 
 part of the conversation, and stood bewildered 
 with the same puzzling questions about the bound 
 girl s life. 
 
 At last he got up, drew on his clothes, and sat 
 down on the top of the ladder, looking down over 
 the blue-grass pasture which lay on the border be* 
 
A NIGHT AT PETE JONES S. 9 
 
 tweet* the land of Jones and the land of Means 
 The earth was white with moonlight. He could not 
 sleep. Why not walk ? It might enable him to 
 sleep. And once determined on walking, he did 
 not hesitate a moment as to the direction in which 
 he should walk. The blue-grass pasture (was it not 
 like unto the garden of Eden ?) lay right before him. 
 That box-elder stood just in sight. To spring over 
 the fence and take the path down the hill and over 
 the brook was as quickly done as decided upon. 
 To stand again under the box-elder, to climb again 
 over the farther fence, and to walk down the road 
 toward the school-house was so easy and so de 
 lightful that it was done without thought. For 
 Ralph was an eager man when he saw no wrong 
 in anything that proposed itself, he was wont to fol- 
 low his impulse without deliberation. And this 
 keeping company with the stars, and the memory 
 of a delightful walk, were so much better than the 
 commonplace Flat Creek life that he threw himself 
 into his night excursion with enthusiasm. 
 
 At last he stood in the little hollow where he had 
 foined Hannah. It was the very spot at whickj 
 Shocky, too, had met him a few mornings before,, 
 He leaned against the fence and tried again to solve 
 the puzzle of Hannah s troubles. For that she had 
 troubles he did not doubt, Neither did he doubt 
 
EOO THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 that he could help her if he could discover what 
 they were. But he had no clue. In the midst of 
 his meditations he heard the thud of horses hoofs 
 coming down the road. Until that moment he had 
 not felt his own loneliness. He shrank back into 
 the fence-corner. The horsemen were galloping 
 There were three of them, and there was one figure 
 that seemed familiar to Ralph. But he could not 
 tell who it was. Neither could he remember hav 
 ing seen the horse, which was a sorrel with a white 
 left forefoot and a white nose. The men noticed 
 him and reined up a little. Why he should have 
 been startled by the presence of these men he could 
 not tell, but an indefinable dread seized him. They 
 galloped on, and he stood still shivering with a 
 nervous fear. The cold seemed to have got into 
 his bones. He remembered that the region lying 
 on Flat Creek and Clifty Creek had the reputation 
 of being infested with thieves, who practiced horse 
 stealing and house-breaking. For ever since the 
 day when Murrell s confederate bands were para- 
 lyzed by the death of their leader, there have still 
 existed gangs of desperadoes in parts of Southern 
 Indiana and Illinois, and in Iowa, Missouri, Ken 
 tucky, and the South-west. It is out of these ma- 
 terials that border ruffianism has grown, and the 
 nine members of the Reno band who were hanged 
 
A NIGHT AT PETE JONES S. IOI 
 
 two or three years ago by lynch law, 1 were remains 
 of the bad blood that came into the West in the 
 days of Daniel Boone. Shall I not say that these 
 frands of desperadoes still found among the " poor 
 whitey, v " " dirt-eater " class are the outcroppings o 
 the bad blood sent from England in convict-ships ? 
 Ought an old country to sow the fertile soil of a 
 colony with such noxious seed ? 
 
 Before Ralph was able to move, he heard the 
 hoofs of another horse striking upon the hard 
 ground in an easy pace. The rider was Dr. Small. 
 He checked his horse in a cool way, and stood still 
 a few seconds while he scrutinized Ralph. Then 
 lie rode on, keeping the same easy gait as before. 
 Ralph had a superstitious horror of Henry Small. 
 And, shuddering with cold, he crept like a thief over 
 the fence, past the tree, through the pasture, back 
 to Pete Jones s, never once thinking of the eyes that 
 looked ott Qf the window at Means s. Climbing 
 the ladder, he got into bed, and shook as with the 
 ague. He tried to reason himself out of the foolish 
 terror xhat possessed him, but he could not. 
 
 Half an hour later he heard a latch raised. Were 
 che robbers breaking into the house below ? He 
 heard a soft tread upon the floor. Should he rise 
 and give the alarm ? Something restrained hm* 
 
 , ijii, , jii m-.it_ ^ "tJ)i 
 
 g Written In 187*0 
 
iO2 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 He reflected that a robber would be sure to stumble 
 over some of the " brats." So he lay still and final- 
 ly slumbered, only awakening when the place in 
 which he slept was full of the smoke of frying 
 grease from the room below. 
 
 At breakfast Pete Jones scowled, He was evi* 
 dently angry about something. He treated Ralph 
 with a rudeness not to be overlooked, as if he in* 
 tended to bring on a quarrel. Hartsook kept cool, 
 and wished he could drive from his mind all mem 
 ory of the past night. Why should men on horse 
 back have any significance to him ? He was trying 
 to regard things in this way, and from a general 
 desire to keep on good terms with his host he went 
 to the stable to offer his services in helping to feed 
 the stock. 
 
 " Don t want no saft -handed help!" was aH he 
 got in return for his well-meant offer. But just as 
 he turned to leave the stable he saw what made 
 him tremble again. There was the same sorrel 
 horse with a white left forefoot and a white nose. 
 
 To shake off his nervousness, Ralph started to 
 school before the time. But, plague upon plagues * 
 Mirandy Means, who had seen him leave Pete 
 Jones s, started just in time to join him where he 
 came into the big road. Ralph was not in a good 
 fcumor after his wakeful night, and to be thus 
 
A NIGHT AT PETE JONES So 
 
 dogged by Mirandy did not help the matter. So 
 he found himself speaking crabbedly to the daugh= 
 ter of the leading trustee, in spite of himself. 
 
 " Hanner s gut a bad cold this mornin from bein 
 out last night, and she can t come to spellin -school 
 to-night," began Mirandy, in her most simpering 
 voice. 
 
 Ralph had forgotten that there was to be an< 
 other spelling-school. It seemed to him an age 
 since the orthographical conflict of the past night. 
 This remark of Mirandy s fell upon his ear like an 
 -echo from the distant past. He had lived a lifetime 
 since, and was not sure that he was the same man 
 who was spelling for dear life against Jim Phillips 
 twelve hours before. But he was sorry to hear that 
 Hannah had a cold. It seemed to him, in his de 
 pressed state, that he was to blame for it. In fact, 
 it seemed to him that he was to blame for a good 
 many things. He seemed to have been committing 
 sins in spite of himself. Broken nerves and sleep 
 less nights often result in a morbid conscience. 
 And what business had he to wander over this very 
 road at two o clock in the morning, and to see three 
 galloping horsemen, one of them on a horse with a 
 white left forefoot and a white nose ? What busi 
 ness had he watching Dr. Small as he went home 
 Crom the bedside of a dying patient near daylight 
 
IO4 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 in the morning ? And because he felt guilty hv felt 
 cross with Mirandy, and to her remark about Vfan 
 nah he only replied that " Hannah was a smart girl." 
 " Yes," said Mirandy, " Bud thinks so." 
 
 " Does he ?" said Ralph. 
 
 " I should say so. What s him and her been 
 
 f a-courtin fer for a year ef he didn t think she was 
 
 smart? Harm don t like it; but ef Bud and her 
 
 does, and they seem to, I don t see as it s marm s 
 
 lookout." 
 
 When one is wretched, there is a pleasure in be 
 ing entirely wretched. Ralph felt that he must 
 have committed some unknown crime, and that 
 some Nemesis was following him. Was Hannah 
 Jeceitful ? At least, if she were not, he felt sure 
 that he could supplant Bud. But what right had 
 he to supplant Bud? 
 
 "Did you hear the news?" cried .jAocky, run 
 ning out to meet him. " The Dutchman s house 
 was robbed last night." 
 
 Ralph thought of the three men on horseback, 
 and to save his life he could not help associating 
 Dr. Small with them. And then he remembered 
 the sorrel horse with the left forefoot and muzzle 
 white, and he recalled the sound he had heard as of 
 the lifting of a latch. And it really seemed to him 
 that in knowing what he did he was in some sens* 
 of the robbery 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OMINOUS REMARKS O* MR. JONES. 
 
 THE school-master s mind was like ancient Gaul 
 divided into three parts. With one part he mechaa- 
 ically performed his school duties. With another 
 he asked himself, What shall I do about the rob- 
 bery ? And with the third he debated about Bud 
 and Hannah. For Bud was not present, and it was 
 clear that he was angry, and there was a storm 
 brewing. In fact, it seemed to Ralph that there 
 was a storm brewing all round the sky. For Pete 
 Jones was evidently angry at the thought of having 
 been watched, and it was fair to suppose that Dr. 
 Small was not in any better humor than usual 
 And so, between Bud s jealousy and revenge and 
 the suspicion and resentment of the men engaged 
 in the robbery at " the Dutchman s " (as the only 
 German in the whole region was called), Ralph s 
 excited nerves had cause for tremor. At one mo 
 ment he would resolve to have Hannah at all costs, 
 In the next his conscience would question the right 
 fialness of the conclusion. Then he would make 
 
106 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 up his mind to tell all he knew about the robbery. 
 But if he told his suspicions about Small, nobody 
 would believe him. And if he told about Pete 
 Jones, he really could tell only enough to bring 
 vengeance upon himself. And how could he e>~ 
 plain his own walk through the pasture and down 
 the road ? What business had he being out of bed 
 at two o clock in the morning ? The circumstantial 
 evidence was quite as strong against him as against 
 the man on the horse with the white left forefoot 
 and the white nose. Suspicion might fasten on 
 himself. And then what would be the effect on his 
 prospects ? On the people at Lewisburg ? On Han 
 nah ? It is astonishing how much instruction and 
 comfort there is in a bulldog. This slender school 
 master, who had been all his life repressing the 
 animal and developing the finer nature, now found 
 a need of just what the bulldog had. And so, with 
 the thought of how his friend the dog would fight in 
 a desperate strait, he determined to take hold of 
 his difficulties as Bull took hold of the raccoon 
 Moral questions he postponed for careful decision 
 But for the present he set his teeth together in * 
 desperate, bulldog fashion, and he set his feet down 
 slowly, positively, bulldoggedly. After a wretched 
 ?upper at Pete Jones s he found himself at the spell 
 ing-school, which, owing to the absence of Hannah, 
 
OMINOUS REMARKS OF MR. JONES. IO? 
 
 and the excitement about the burglary, was a dull 
 affair. Half the evening was spent in talking in 
 little knots. Pete Jones had taken the afflicted 
 " Dutchman " under his own particular supervision, 
 
 " I s pose," said Pete, " that them air fellers what 
 robbed your house must a come down from JinkinE 
 Run. They re the blamedest set up there I ever 
 see." 
 
 " Ya-as," said Schroeder, " put how did Yinkina 
 vellers know dat I sell te medder to te Shquire, 
 hey ? How tid Yinkins know anyting bout the 
 Shquire s bayin me dree huntert in te hard gash 
 hey ? " 
 
 " Some scoundrels down in these ere parts is 
 a-layin in with Jinkins Run, I ll bet a hoss," said 
 Pete. Ralph wondered whether he d bet the one 
 with the white left forefoot and the white nose, 
 " Now," said Pete, " ef I could find the feller that s 
 a-helpin them scoundrels rob us folks, I d help 
 stretch him to the neardest tree." 
 
 u So vood I," said Schroeder. " I d shtretch him 
 dill he baid me my dree huntert tollars pack, so I 
 vood." 
 
 And Betsey Short, who had found the whole 
 affair very funny, was transported with a fit of tit 
 tering at poor Schroeder s English. Ralph, fearing 
 that his silence would excite suspicion, tried to talk, 
 
*O8 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 But he could not tell what he knew, and all that iifc 
 said sounded so hollow and hypocritical that it 
 made him feel guilty. And so he shut his mouth, 
 land meditated profitably on the subject of bull- 
 fdogs. And when later he overheard the garrulou 
 Jones declare that he d bet a hoss he could p int 
 out somebody as know d a blamed sight more n 
 they keerd to tell, he made up his mind that if it 
 <same to p inting out he should fery to be even with 
 Jones, 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN THE DARK, 
 
 IT was a long, lonesome, fearful night that the 
 school-master passed, lying with nerves on edge 
 and eyes wide open in that comfortless bed in the 
 " furdest corner " of the loft of Pete Jones s house, 
 shivering with v;old, while the light snow that was 
 (ailing sifted in upon the ragged patch-work quilt 
 that covered him. Nerves broken by sleeplessness 
 imagine many things, and for the first hour Ralph 
 felt sure that Pete would cut his throat before 
 morning. 
 
 And you, friend Callow, who have blunged your 
 palate by swallowing the Cayenne pepper of the 
 penny-dreadfuls, you wish me to make this night 
 exciting by a hand-to-hand contest between Ralph 
 and a robber. You would like it better if there 
 were a trap-door. There s nothing so convenient 
 as a trap-door, unless it be a subterranean passage* 
 And you d like something of that sort just here. 
 It s so pleasant to have one s hair stand on end, you 
 know, when one is safe from danger to one s self. 
 But if you want each individual hair to bristle wit** 
 
IO THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 such a " Struggle in the Dark," you can buy trap 
 doors and subterranean passages dirt cheap at the 
 next news-stand. But it was, indeed, a real and 
 terrible " Struggle in the Dark " that Ralph fought 
 out at Pete Jones s. 
 
 When he had vanquished his fears of personal 
 violence by reminding himself that it would be folly 
 for Jones to commit murder in his own house, the 
 question of Bud and Hannah took the uppermost 
 place in his thoughts. And as the image of Hannah 
 spelling against the master came up to him, as the 
 memory of the walk, the talk, the box-elder tree, 
 and all the rest took possession of him, it seemed 
 to Ralph that his very lifejiepended upon his secur 
 ing her love. He would shut his teeth like the 
 jaws of a bulldog, and all Bud s muscles should 
 not prevail over his resolution and his stratagems. 
 
 It was easy to persuade himself that this was 
 right. Hannah ought not to throw herself away 
 on Bud Means. Men of some culture always play 
 their conceit off against their consciences. To a 
 man of literary habits it usually seems to be a great 
 boon that he confers on a woman when he gives 
 her his love. Reasoning thus, Ralph had fixed his 
 resolution, and if the night had been shorter, or 
 sleep possible, the color of his life might ha^ been 
 changed. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN THE DARK. Ill 
 
 But some time along in the tedious hours came 
 tne memory of his childhood, the words of his 
 m other, the old Bible stories, the aspiration after 
 nobility of spirit, the solemn resolutions to be true 
 to his conscience. These angels of the memory 
 came flocking back before the animal, the bull 
 doggedness, had " set," as workers in plaster say* 
 He remembered the story of David and Nathan, 
 and it seemed to him that he, with all his abilities 
 and ambitions and prospects, was about to rob Bud 
 of the one ewe-lamb, the only thing he had to re 
 joice in in his life. In getting Hannah, he would 
 make himself unworthy of Hannah. And then 
 there came to him a vision of the supreme value of 
 a true character; how it was better than success, 
 better than to be loved, better than heaven. And 
 how near he had been to missing it ! And how cer 
 tain he was, when these thoughts should fade, to 
 miss it! Ht was as one fighting for a great prize 
 who feels his strength failing and is sure of defeat. 
 
 This was the real, awful " Struggle in the Dark." 
 A human soul fighting with heaven in sight, but 
 certain of slipping inevitably into hell ! It was the 
 same old battle. The Image of God fought with 
 the Image of the Devil. It was the same fight that 
 Paul described so dramatically when he represented 
 the Spirit as contending with the Flesh. Paul also 
 
iI2 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 called this dreadful something the Old Adam, and 
 I suppose Darwin would call it the remains of the 
 Wild Beast. But call it what you will, it is the bat 
 tle that every well-endowed soul must fight at some 
 point. And to Ralph it seemed that the final vie 
 tory of the Evil, the Old Adam, the Flesh, the 
 Wild Beast, the Devil, was certain. For, was not 
 the pure, unconscious face cf Hannah on the Devil s 
 side ? And so the battle had just as well be given 
 up at once, for it must be lost in the end. 
 
 But to Ralph, lying there in the still darkness, 
 with his conscience as wide awake as if it were the 
 Day of Doom, there seemed something so terrible 
 in this overflow of the better nature which he knew 
 to be inevitable as soon as the voice of conscience 
 became blunted, that he looked about for help. He 
 did not at first think of God; but there came into 
 his thoughts the memory of a travel-worn Galilean 
 peasant, hungry, sleepy, weary, tempted, tried, like 
 other men, but having a strange, divine Victory in 
 jhim by which everything evil was vanquished at 
 fiis coming. He remembered how He had reached 
 out a Hand to every helpless one, how He was the 
 Helper of every weak one. And out of the depths 
 of his soul he cried to the Helper, and found com 
 fort. Not victory, but, what is better, strength. 
 And so, without a thought of the niceties of theo 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN THE DARK. 113 
 
 logical distinctions, without dreaming that it was 
 the beginning of a reHgious experience, he found 
 what he needed, help. And the Helper gave His 
 
 beloved sleep. 
 9 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HAS GOD FORGOTTEN SHOCKY ? 
 
 "PAP wants to know ef you would spend to 
 morry and Sunday at our house ? " said one of 
 Squire Hawkins s girls, on the very next evening, 
 which was Friday. The old Squire was thoughtful 
 enough to remember that Ralph would not find it 
 very pleasant " boarding out " all the time he was 
 entitled to spend at Pete Jones s. For in view of 
 the fact that Mr. Pete Jones sent seven children to 
 the school, the " master " in Plat Creek district was 
 bound to spend two weeks in that comfortable 
 place, sleeping in a preoccupied bed, in the " fur- 
 dest corner," with insufficient cover, under an in 
 sufficient roof, and eating floating islands of salt 
 pork fished out of oceans of hot lard. Ralph was 
 not slow to accept the relief offered by the hospita^ 
 ble justice of the peace, whose principal business 
 seemed to be the adjustment of the pieces of which 
 he was composed. And as Shocky traveled the 
 same road, Ralph took advantage of the opportu 
 nity to talk wi+H Hm. The master could not dis< 
 
HAS GOD FORGOTTEN SHOCKY? II 
 
 miss Hannah wholly from his mind. He would at 
 /east read the mystery of her life, if Shocky could 
 be prevailed on to furnish the clue. 
 
 " Poor old tree ! " said Shocky, pointing to a 
 crooked and gnarled elm standing by itself in the 
 middle of a field. For when the elm, naturally the 
 most graceful of trees, once gets a " bad set/ it* 
 can grow to be the most deformed. This solitary 
 tree had not a single straight limb. 
 
 " Why do you say poor old tree ? " asked 
 Ralph. 
 
 " Cause it s lonesome. All its old friends is 
 dead and chopped down, and there s their stumps 
 a-standin jes like grave-stones. It must be lone 
 some. Some folks says it don t feel, but I think it 
 does. Everything seems to think and feel. See it 
 nodding its head to them other trees in the wood>, 
 and a-wantin to shake hands! But it can t move. 
 I think that tree must a growed in the night." 
 
 "Why, Shocky?" 
 
 " Cause it s so crooked," and Shocky laughed at 
 his own conceit ; " must a growed when they was 
 310 light so as it could see how to grow." 
 
 And then they walked on in silence a minute 
 Presently Shocky began looking up into Ralph s 
 eyes to get a smile. " I guess that tree feels just 
 like me. Don t you ? " 
 
Il6 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 " Why, how do you feel ? " 
 
 " Kind o bad and lonesome, and like as if I 
 wanted to die, you know. Felt that way ever sence 
 they put my father into the graveyard, and sent 
 my mother to the poor-house and Hanner to ole 
 Miss Means s. What kind of a place is a poor- 
 house ? Is it a poorer place than Means s ? I wish 
 I was dead and one of them clouds was a-carryin* 
 me and Hanner and mother up to where father s 
 gone, you know! I wonder if God forgets all about 
 poor folks when their father dies and their mother 
 gits into the poor-house ? Do you think He does ? 
 Seems so to me. Maybe God lost track of my 
 father when he come away from England ancf 
 crossed over the sea. Don t nobody on Flat Creel* 
 keer fer God, and I guess God don t keer fer Flat 
 Creek. But I would, though, ef he d git my mother 
 out of the poor-house and git Hanner away from 
 Means s, and let me kiss my mother every night, 
 you know, and sleep on my Hanner s arm, jes like 
 I used to afore father died, you see." 
 
 Ralph wanted to speak, but he couldn t. And 
 so Shocky, with his eyes looking straight ahead, 
 and as if forgetting Ralph s presence, told over the 
 thoughts that he had often talked over to the fence 
 rails arid the trees. " It was real good in Mr c 
 Pearson to take me, wasn t it ? Else I d a been* 
 
HAS GOD FORGOTTEN SHOCKY ? 1 1/ 
 
 bound out tell I was twenty-one, maybe, to some 
 mean man like Ole Means. And I a n t bur seven. 
 And it would take me fourteen years to git twenty 
 one, and I never could live with my mother again 
 after Manner gets done her time. Cause, you see, 
 Hanner ll be through in three more year, and I ll 
 be ten and able to work, and we ll git a little place 
 about as big as Granny Sanders s, and " 
 
 Ralph did not hear another word of what Shocky 
 said that afternoon. For there, right before them, 
 was Granny Sanders s log-cabin, with its row of 
 lofty sunflower stalks, now dead and dry, in front, 
 with its rain-water barrel by the side of the low 
 door, and its ash-barrel by the fence. In this cabin 
 lived alone the old and shriveled hag whose hid- 
 eousness gave her a reputation for almost supernat 
 ural knowledge. She v/as at once doctress and 
 newspaper. Slie collected and disseminated medic 
 inal herbs and personal gossip. She was in every 
 regard indispensable to the intellectual life of the 
 neighborhood. In the matter of her medical skill 
 we cannot express an opinion, for her " yarbs " are 
 not to be found in the pharmacopoeia of science. 
 
 What took Ralph s breath was to find Dr. Small s 
 fine, faultless horse standing at the door. What 
 Henry Small want to visit this old quack for? 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DEVIL OF SILENCE. 
 
 RALPH had reason to fear Small, who was a 
 native of the same village of Lewisburg, and some 
 five years the elder. Some facts in the doctor s 
 life had come into Ralph s possession in such a 
 way as to confirm life-long suspicion without giv 
 ing him power to expose Small, who was firmly 
 Intrenched in the good graces of the people of the 
 county-seat village of Lewisburg, where he had 
 grown up, and of the little cross-roads village of 
 Clifty, where his " shingle " now hung. 
 
 Small was no ordinary villain. He was a genius. 
 Your ordinary hypocrite talks cant. Small talked 
 nothing. He was the coolest, the steadiest, the 
 most silent, the most promising boy ever born in 
 Lewisburg. He made no pretensions. He set up 
 ^ claims. He uttered no professions. He went 
 right on and lived a life above reproach. Your 
 vulgar hypocrite makes long prayers in prayer 
 meeting. Small did nothing of the sort. He sat 
 still in prayer-*neeting, and listened to the elders as 
 
THE DEVIL OF SILENCE, 
 
 a modest young man should. Your commonplace 
 hypocrite boastSe Small never alluded to himself, 
 and thus a consummate egotist got credit for mod 
 esty. It is but an indifferent trick for a hypocrite 
 to make temperance speeches. Dr. Small did nor 
 sven belong to a temperance society. But he could 
 never be persuaded to drink even so much as a cup 
 of tea. There was something sublime in the quiet 
 voice with which he would say, " Cold water, if you 
 please," to a lady tempting him with smoking coffee 
 on a cold morning. There was no exultation, no 
 sense of merit in the act. Everything was done in 
 a raodest and matter-of-course way beautiful to 
 behold. And his face was a neutral tint. Neither 
 face nor voice expressed anything. Only a keen 
 reader of character might have asked whether all 
 there was in that eye could live contented with thfc 
 cool, austere, self-contained life; whether there 
 would not be somewhere a volcanic eruption. But 
 if there was any sea of molten lava beneatii the 
 world did not discover it. Wild boys were sick of 
 feaving Small held up to them as the most immacu 
 late of men. 1 
 
 Ralph had failed to get two schools for which he 
 
 1 The original from which this character was drawn is here de* 
 scribed accurately. The author now knows that such people are nol 
 to te put into books. They are not realistic enough. 
 
S2O THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 had applied, and had attributed both failures to 
 certain shrugs of Dr. Small. And now, when he 
 found Small at the house of Granny Sanders, the 
 center of intelligence as well as of ignorance for 
 the neighborhood, he trembled. Not that Small 
 would say anything. He never said anything. He 
 damned people by a silence worse than words. 
 
 Granny Sanders was not a little flattered by the 
 visit. 
 
 "Why, doctor, howdy, howdy! Come in, take a 
 cheer. I am glad to see you. I lowed you d come. 
 Old Dr. Flounder used to say he larnt lots o things 
 of me. But most of the doctors sence hez been 
 kinder stuck up, you know. But I know d you fer 
 a man of intelligence." 
 
 Meantime, Small, by his grave silence and atten 
 tion, had almost smothered the old hag with flat 
 tery. " Many s the case I ve cured with yarbs and 
 things. Nigh upon twenty year ago they was a 
 mar lived over on Wild Cat Run as had a breakin - 
 out on his side. Twas the left side, jes below the 
 waist. Doctor couldn t do nothin . Twas Doctor 
 Peacham. He never would have nothin* to do 
 with ole woman s cures/ Well, the man was gom p 
 to die. Everybody seed that. And they come 
 a-drivin* away over here all the way from the Wild 
 Cat Think of that airJ I never was so flustered, 
 
>, 
 
 
 
 MRS. MBAN& 
 
THE DEVIL OF SILENCE,, 
 
 But as soon as I laid eyes on that air man, I says, 
 says I, that air man, says I, has got the shingles, 
 says I. I know d the minute I seed it. And if 
 they d gone clean around, nothing could a saved 
 him. I says, says I, git me a black cat. So I jist 
 killed a black cat, and let the blood run all over 
 the swellin . I tell you, doctor, they s nothin like 
 it. That man was well in a month." 
 
 " Did you use the blood warm ? " asked Smallp 
 with a solemnity most edifying. 
 
 These were almost the only words he had uttered 
 since he entered the cabin. 
 
 " Laws, yes ; I jest let it run right out of the cat s 
 tail onto the breakin -out. And fer airesipelus, I 
 don t know nothin so good as the blood of a black 
 hen." 
 
 " How old ? " asked the doctor. 
 
 "There you showed yer science, doctor! They s 
 no power in a pullet. The older the black hen the 
 better. And you know the cure fer rheumatiz?" 
 And here the old woman got down a bottle of 
 grease. " That s ile from a black dog. Ef it s ren 
 dered right, it ll knock the hind sights off of any 
 rheumatiz you ever see. But it must be rendereo 
 in the dark of the moon. Else a black dog s il<? 
 a n t worth no more nor a white one s." 
 
 And all this time Small was smelling of the 
 
Jf22 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 corked bottle, taking a little on his finger and feel 
 ing of it, and thus feeling his way to the heart 
 drier than her herbs of the old witch. And then 
 he went round the cabin gravely, lifting each sepa 
 rate bunch of dried yarbs from its nail, smelling ot 
 it, and then, by making an interrogation-point of 
 his silent face, he managed to get a lecture from 
 her on each article in her materia medica, with the 
 most marvelous stories illustrative of their virtues. 
 When the Granny had got her fill of his silent flat 
 tery, he was ready to carry forward his main pur 
 pose. 
 
 There was something weird about this silent 
 Brian s ability to turn the conversation as he chose 
 \Q have it go. Sitting by the Granny s tea-table, 
 nibbling corn-bread while he drank his glass of water, 
 having declined even her sassafras, he ceased to 
 stimulate her medical talk and opened the vein of 
 gossip. Once started, Granny Sanders was sure to 
 allude to the robbery. And once on the robbery 
 the doctor s course was clear. 
 
 " J low somebody not fur away is in this r ere 
 business! " 
 
 Not by a word, nor even by a nod, but by some 
 motion of the eyelids, perhaps, Small indicated 
 that he agreed with her. 
 
 " Who d ye s pose tis?" 
 
THE DEVIL OF SILENCE, 
 
 But Dr. Small was not in the habit of supposing,, 
 He moved his head in a quiet way, just the least 
 perceptible bit, but so that the old creature under 
 stood that he could give light if he wanted to. 
 
 " I dunno anybody that s been bout here long as 
 could be suspected." 
 
 Another motion of the eyelids indicated Small s 
 agreement with this remark. 
 
 " They a n t nobody come in here lately ceppin* 
 the master." 
 
 Small looked vacantly at the wall. 
 
 " But I low he s allers bore a tip-top character." 
 
 The doctor was too busy looking at his corn* 
 bread to answer this remark even by a look. 
 
 " But I think these oversmart young men ll bear 
 looking arter, / do." 
 
 Dr. Small raised his eyes and let them shine an. 
 assent. That was all. 
 
 " Shouldn t wonder ef our master was overly 
 r ond of gals." 
 
 Doctor looks down at his plate. 
 
 " Had plenty of sweethearts afore he walked 
 home with Hanner Thomson t other night, I ll bet. H 
 
 Did Dr. Small shrug his shoulder ? Grann^ 
 thought she detected a faint motion of the sort 
 but she could not be sure. 
 
 ** And I think as how that a feller what trifle* 
 
i 24 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 mth gals hearts and then runs off ten miles, may 
 be a n t no better n he had orter be. That s what 
 " says, says I." 
 
 To this general remark Dr. Small assented in his 
 k visible shall I say intangible ? way. 
 
 " I allers think, maybe, that some folks has found 
 ft best to leave home and go away. You can t 
 never tell. But when people is a-bein robbed it s 
 well to lookout. Hey ? " 
 
 "I think so," said Small quietly, and, having 
 taken his hat and bowed a solemn and respectful 
 adieu, he departed. 
 
 He had not spoken twenty words, but he had 
 satisfied the news-monger of Flat Creek that Ralph 
 was a bad character at home and worthy of suspi 
 cion of burglary* 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MISS MARTHA HAWKINS. 
 
 " IT S very good for the health to dig in the 
 ments. I was quite emaciated last year at the 
 East, and the doctor told me to dig in the elements, 
 I got me a fiorial hoe and dug, and it s been most 
 excellent for me/ * Time, the Saturday following 
 the Friday on which Ralph kept Shocky company 
 as far as the " forks " near Granny Sanders s house 
 Scene, the Squire s garden. Ralph helping thai 
 worthy magistrate perform sundry little jobs such 
 as a warm winter day suggests to the farmer. Miss 
 Martha Hawkins, the Squire s niece, and his house 
 Deeper in his present bereaved condition, leaning 
 over the palings pickets she called them of the 
 
 irden fence, talking to the master. Miss Hawkins 
 recently from Massachusetts. How many peo 
 ple there are in the most cultivated communities 
 uhose education is partial! 
 
 " It s very common for school-master to dig in 
 
 1 Absurd as this speech seems, it is a literal transcript of words 
 spoken in the author s presence by a woman who p like Miss 
 was born in Massachusetts. 
 
126 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 the elements at the East," proceeded Miss Martha, 
 Like many other people born in the celestial em 
 pires (of which there are three China, Virginia, 
 Massachusetts), Miss Martha was not averse to re 
 minding outside barbarians of her good fortune in 
 Ihis regard. It did her good to speak of the East. 
 Now Ralph was amused with Miss Martha. She 
 really had a good deal of intelligence despite her 
 affectation, and conversation with her was both in 
 teresting and diverting. It helped him to forgei 
 Hannah, and Bud, arid the robbery, and all the rest, 
 and she was so delighted to find somebody to make 
 an impression on that she had come out to talk 
 while Ralph was at work. Er.t just at this mo 
 ment the school-master was not so much interested 
 in her interesting remarks, nor so much amused by 
 her amusing remarks, as he should have been. He 
 saw a man coming down the road riding one horse 
 and leading another, and he recognized the horses 
 at a distance. It must be Bud who was riding 
 Means s bay mare and leading Bud s roan colt. 
 Bud had been to mill, and as the man who owned 
 ihe horse-mill kept but one old blind horse himself 
 it was necessary that Bud should take two. It re- 
 quired three horses to run the mill; the old blind 
 one could have ground the grist, but the two others 
 to overcome the friction of the clumsy machine 
 
MISS MARTHA HAWKINS. 12J 
 
 But it was not about the horse-mill that Ralpfe 
 was thinking nor about the two horses. Since that 
 Wednesday evening on which he escorted Hannah 
 home from the spelling-school he had not seen Bud 
 Means. If he had any lingering doubts of the 
 iruth of what Mirandy had said, they had been dis 
 sipated by the absence of Bud from school. 
 
 " When I was to Bosting " Miss Martha was 
 
 to Boston only once in her life, but as her visit to 
 that sacred city was the most important occurrence 
 of her life, she did not hesitate to air her reminis 
 cences of it frequently. " When I was to Bosting/ 
 she was just saying, when, following the indication 
 of Ralph s eyes, she saw Bud coming up the hill near 
 Squire Hawkins s house. Bud looked red and 
 sulky, and to Ralph s and Miss Martha Hawkins s 
 polite recognitions he returned only a surly nod. 
 They both saw that he was angry. Ralph was able 
 to guess the meaning of his wrath. 
 
 Toward evening Ralph strolled through the 
 Squire s cornfield toward the woods. The memory 
 of the walk with Hannah was heavy upon the heart 
 of the young master, and there was comfort in the 
 very miserableness of the cornstalks with their dis 
 heveled blades hanging like tattered banners and 
 rattling discordantly in the rising wind. Wander 
 ing without purpose, Ralph followed the rows of 
 
X28 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 stalks first one way and then the other in a zigzag 
 line, turning a right angle every minute or two. At 
 last he came out in a woods mostly of beech, and 
 he pleased his melancholy fancy by kicking the dry 
 and silky leaves before him in billows, while the 
 soughing of the wind through the long, vibrant 
 boughs and slender twigs of the beech forest seemer 
 to put the world into the wailing minor key of his 
 own despair. 
 
 What a fascination there is in a path come upon 
 suddenly without a knowledge of its termination \ 
 Here was one running in easy, irregular curves 
 through the wood, now turning gently to the right 
 In order to avoid a stump, now swaying suddenly 
 to the left to gain an easier descent at a steep place, 
 and now turning wantonly to the one side or the 
 other, as if from very caprice in the man who by 
 idle steps unconsciously marked the line of the 
 foot-path at first. Ralph could not resist the im- 
 pube who could ? to follow the path and find 
 out its destination, and following it he came pres 
 ently into a lonesome hollow, where a brook gur 
 gled among the heaps of bare limestone rocks that 
 tilled its bed. Following the path still, he came 
 iipon a queer little cabin built of round logs, in the 
 midst of a small garden-patch inclosed by a brush 
 fence. The stick chimney, daubed with clay and 
 
\ 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 CAPTAIN PEARSON 
 
MISS MARTHA HAWKINS, 129 
 
 popped with a barrel open at both ends, made this 
 fttypical cabin. 
 
 It flashed upon Ralph that this place must be 
 Rocky Hollow, and that this was the house of old 
 John Pearson, the one-legged basket-maker, and 
 his rheumatic wife the house that hospitably shel 
 tered Shocky. Following his impulse, he knocked 
 and was admitted, and was not a little surprised to 
 find Miss Martha Hawkins there before him. 
 
 " You here, Miss Hawkins ? " he said when he 
 had returned Shocky s greeting and shaken hands 
 with the old couple. 
 
 Bless you, yes/ said the old lady. "That 
 blessed gyirl " the old lady called her a girl by a 
 sort of figure of speech perhaps " that blessed 
 gyirl s the kindest creetur you ever saw comes 
 here every day, most, to cheer a body up witn 
 somethin or nuther." 
 
 Miss Martha blushed, and said "she came be 
 cause Rocky Hollow looked so much like a place 
 she used to know at the East. Mr. and Mrs. Pear 
 son were the kindest people. They reminded her 
 of people she knew at the East. When she was to 
 Bosting " 
 
 Here the old basket-meeker lifted his head from 
 his work, and said : " Pshaw ! that talk about kyind- 
 ness " (he was a Kentuckian and said fcyindness) " is 
 
ISO THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER 
 
 all humbug. I wonder so smart a woman as you 
 don t know better. You come nearder to bein 
 kyind than anybody I know; but, laws a me! we re 
 all seJfish akordin to my tell." 
 
 "You wasn t selfish when you set up with my 
 father most every night for two weeks," said Shocky, 
 as he handed the old man a splint. 
 
 " Yes, I was, too ! " This in a tone that made 
 Ralph tremble. "Your father was a miserable 
 Britisher. I d fit red-coats, in the war of eighteen- 
 twelve, and lost my leg by one of em stickin his 
 dog-on d bagonet right through it, that night at 
 Lundy s Lane ; but my messmate killed him though, 
 which is a satisfaction to think on. And I didn t 
 like your father cause he was a Britisher. But ef 
 he d a died right here in this free country, thout 
 nobody to give him a drink of water, blamed ef I 
 wouldn t a been ashamed to set on the platform at 
 a. Fourth of July barbecue, and to hold up my 
 wooden leg fer to make the boys cheer! That was 
 the selfishest thing I ever done. We re all selfish 
 akordin to my tell." 
 
 "You wasn t selfish when you took me that night, 
 you know," and Shocky s face beamed with grati 
 tude. 
 
 " Yes, I war, too, you little sass-box ! What did 
 I take you fer ? Hey ? Bekase I didn t Hke Pete 
 
MISS MARTHA HAWKINS, 131 
 
 femes nor Bill Jones. They re thieves, dog-on 
 em! " 
 
 Ralph shivered a little. The horse with the 
 white forefoot and white nose galloped before his 
 *yes again. 
 
 " They re a set of thieves. That s what they 
 air." 
 
 "Please, Mr. Pearson, be careful. You ll get 
 into trouble, you know, by talking that way," said 
 Miss Hawkins. " You re just like a man that I 
 knew at the East." 
 
 " Why, do you think an old soldier like me, hob 
 bling on a wooden leg, is afraid of them thieves ? 
 Didn t I face the Britishers ? Didn t I come home 
 late last Wednesday night ? I rather guess I must 
 a took a little too much at Welch s grocery, and 
 laid down in the middle of the street to rest. The 
 boys thought twas funny to crate J me. I woke 
 up kind o* cold, bout one in the mornin. Bout 
 
 x When the first edition of this book appeared, the critic who ana 
 !yzed the dialect in The Nation confessed that he did not know whaf 
 to "crate" meant. It was a custom in the days of early Indiana 
 barbarism for the youngsters of a village, on spying a sleeping drunk- 
 ard, to hunt up a " queensware crate " one of the cages of round . 
 withes in which crockery was shipped. This was turned upside 
 down over the inebriate, and loaded with logs or any other heavy arti-, 
 cles that would make escape difficult when the poor wretch should 
 come to himself. It was a sort of rude punishment for inebriety, and 
 tfc afforded a frog-killing delight to those who executed justice. 
 
132 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER 
 
 two o clock I come up Means s hill, and didn t I 
 see Pete Jones, and them others that robbed the 
 Dutchman, and somebody, I dunno who, a-crossin 
 the blue-grass paster towards Jones s? (Ralph 
 shivered.) " Don t shake your finger at me, old 
 voman. Tongue is all I ve got to nght with now 
 but I ll fight them thieves tell the sea goes dry- I 
 will. Shocky, gim me a splint." 
 
 "But you wasn t selfish when you tuck me* 
 Shocky stuck to his point most positively. 
 
 " Yes, I was, you little tow-headed fool ! I didn t 
 take you kase I was good, not a bit of it. I hated 
 Bill Jones what keeps the poor-house, and I knowed 
 him and Pete would get you bound to some of 
 their click, and I didn t want no more thieves raised; 
 so when your mother hobbled, with you a-leadin 
 her, poor blind thing! all the way over here on that 
 winter night, and said, * Mr. Pearson, you re all the 
 friend I ve got, and I want you to save my boy, 
 why, you see I was selfish as ever I could be in 
 takin of you. Your mother s cryin sot me a-cryin 
 too. We re all selfish in everything, akordin to 
 my tell. Blamed ef we ha n t, Miss Hawkins, only 
 sometimes I d think you was real benev lent e I 
 didn t know we war all selfish." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE HARDSHELL PREACHER, 
 
 "THEY s preachin down to Bethel Meetin -house 
 to-day," said the Squire at breakfast. Twenty years 
 in the West could not cure Squire Hawkins of say- 
 ing " to " for * at." " I rather guess as how the old 
 man Bosaw will give pertickeler fits to our folks to 
 day." For Squire Hawkins, having been expelled 
 from the " Hardshell " church of which Mr. Bosaw 
 was pastor, for the grave offense of joining a tem 
 perance society, had become a member of the " Re 
 formers," the very respectable people who now call 
 themselves " Disciples," but whom the profane will 
 persist in calling " Campbellites." They had a 
 church in the village of Clifty, three miles away. 
 
 I know that explanations are always abominable 
 to story readers, as they are to story writers, but 
 as so many of my readers have never had the ines 
 timable privilege of sitting under the gospel as it is 
 ministered in enlightened neighborhoods like Flat 
 Creek, I find myself under the necessity need-ces- 
 
 sity the Rev. Mr. Bosaw would call it of rising to 
 
 Hi 
 
134 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 explain. Some people think the " Hardshells " a 
 myth, and some sensitive Baptist people at the East 
 resent all allusion to them. But the " Hardshell 
 Baptists," or, as they are otherwise called, the 
 " Whisky Baptists," and the " Forty-gallon Bap 
 tists," exist in all the old Western and South-west 
 ern States. They call themselves "Anti-means 
 Baptists " from their Antinomian tenets. Their 
 confession of faith is a caricature of Calvinism, and 
 is expressed by their preachers about as follows: 
 " Ef you re elected, you ll be saved; ef you a n t, 
 you ll be damned. God ll take keer of his elect. 
 It s a sin to run Sunday-schools, or temp rince s cie- 
 ties, or to send missionaries. You let God s business 
 alone. What is to be will be, and you can t hender 
 it." This writer has attended a Sunday-school, the 
 superintendent of which was solemnly arraigned 
 and expelled from the Hardshell Church for " med 
 dling with God s business " by holding a Sunday* 
 school. Of course the Hardshells are prodigiously 
 illiterate, and often vicious. Some of their preachers 
 are notorious drunkards. They sing their sermons 
 
 out sometimes for three hours at a stretch. 1 
 
 
 
 1 Even the Anti-means Baptists have suffered from the dire spirit of 
 the age. They are to-day a very respectable body o* people calling 
 themselves " Trimitive Baptists." Perhaps the description in the 
 text never applied to the whole denomination, but omy to the Hard- 
 shells of certain localities. Some of these intf.aseiy conservative 
 
THE HARDSHELL PREACHER, l$$ 
 
 Ralph found that he was to ride the " clay-bank 
 mare," the only one of the horses that would " carry 
 double," and that consequently he would have to 
 take Miss Hawkins behind him. If it had been 
 Hannah instead, Ralph might not have objected to 
 u ihis " young Lochinvar " mode of riding with a lady 
 on " the croup," but Martha Hawkins was another* 
 affair. He had only this consolation ; his keeping 
 the company of Miss Hawkins might serve to disarm 
 the resentment of Bud. At all events, he had no 
 choice. What designs the Squire had in this arrange 
 ment he could not tell; but the clay-bank mare car 
 ried him to meeting on that December morning, with 
 
 thurches, I have reason to believe, were always composed of reputable 
 people. But what is said above is not in the least exaggerated as a 
 description of many of the churches in Indiana and Illinois. Their 
 opposition to the temperance reformation was both theoretical and 
 practical. A rather able minister of the denomination whom I knew 
 as a boy used to He in besotted drunkenness by the roadside. I am 
 sorry to confess that he once represented the county in the State leg 
 islature. The piece of a sermon given in this chapter was heard 
 near Cairo, Illinois, in the days before the war. Most of the 
 preachers were illiterate farmers. I have heard one of them hold 
 forth two hours at a stretch. But even in that day there were mer 
 among the Hardshells whose ability and character commanded re 
 spect. This was true, especially in Kentucky, where able men like 
 the two Dudleys held to the Antinomian wing of their denomination. 
 But the Hardshells are perceptibly less hard than they were. You 
 may march at the reai of the column among Hunkers and Hardshells 
 if you will, but you are obliged to march. Those who will not go 
 voluntarily, the time-spirit, walking behind, prods onward with a 
 goad, 
 
136 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 Martha Hawkins behind. And as Miss Hawkins 
 was not used to this mode of locomotion, she was 
 in a state of delightful fright every time the horse 
 sank to the knees in the soft, yellow Flat Creek clay. 
 
 "We don t go to church so at the East, she 
 said. " The mud isn t so deep at the East. When 
 
 I was to Bosting " but Ralph never heard what 
 
 happened when she was to Bosting, for just as she 
 said Bosting the mare put her foot into a deep hole 
 molded by the foot of the Squire s horse, and al 
 ready full of muddy water. 
 
 As the mare s foot went twelve inches down into 
 this track, the muddy water spurted higher than 
 Miss Hawkins s head, and mottled her dress with 
 golden spots of clay. She gave a little shriek, and 
 declared that she had never " seen it so at the East." 
 
 The journey seemed a little long to Ralph, who 
 found that the subjects upon which he and Miss- 
 Hawkins could converse were few; but Miss Martha 
 was determined to keep things going, and once, 
 when the conversation had died out entirely, she 
 "nade a desperate effort to renew it by remarking) 
 as they met a man on horseback, "That horse 
 switches his tail just as they do at the East. When 
 I was to Bosting I saw horses switch their ^ails just 
 that way." 
 
 What surprised Ralph was to see that Flat Creek 
 
THE HARDSHELL PREACHER, 13^ 
 
 went to meeting. Everybody was there the 
 Meanses, the Joneses, the Bantas, and all the rest. 
 Everybody on Flat Creek seemed to be there, ex 
 cept the old wooden-legged basket-maker. His 
 family was represented by Shocky, who had come, 
 doubtless, to get a glimpse of Hannah, not to hear 
 Mr. Bosaw preach. In fact, few were thinking of 
 the religious service. They went to church as a 
 common resort to hear the news, and to find out 
 what was the current sensation. 
 
 On this particular morning there seemed to be 
 some unusual excitement. Ralph perceived it as 
 he rode up. An excited crowd, even though it be 
 at a church-door on Sunday morning, can not con 
 ceal its agitation. Ralph deposited Miss Hawkins 
 on the stile, and then got dawn himself, and aid 
 her the closest attention to the door. This atten 
 tion was for Bud s benefit. But Bud only stood 
 with his hands in his pockets, scowling worse than 
 ever. Ralph did not go in at the door. It was not 
 the Flat Creek custom. The men gossiped outside, 
 while the women chatted within. Whatever may 
 Jiave been the cause of the excitement, Ralph could 
 .not get at it. When he entered a little knot of 
 people they became embarrassed, the group dis 
 solved, and its component parts joined other com 
 panies. What had the current of conversation *a 
 
238 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTERo 
 
 do with him ? He overheard Pete Jones saying 
 that the olamed old wooden leg was in it anyhow, 
 He d been seen goin home at two in the mornin . 
 And he could name somebody else ef he choosed. 
 But it was best to clean out one at a time. And 
 just then there was a murmur: " Meetin s took 
 up/* And the masculine element filled the empty- 
 half of the "hewed-iog" church. 
 
 When Ralph saw Hannah looking utterly de* 
 jected, his heart smote him, and the great struggle 
 set in again. Had it not been for the thought of 
 the other battle, and the comforting presence of the 
 Helper,! fear Bud s interests would have fared badly. 
 But Ralph, with the spirit of a martyr, resolved to 
 wait until he knew what, the result of Bud s suit 
 should be, and whether, indeed, the young Goliath 
 had prior claims, as he evidently thought he had. 
 He turned hopefully to the sermon, determined to 
 pick up any crumbs of comfort that might fall from 
 Mr. Bosaw s meager table. 
 
 In reporting a single specimen passage of Mr- 
 Bosaw s sermon, I shall not take the liberty which 
 Thucydides and other ancient historians did, of 
 making the sermon and putting it into the hero ; 
 m^uth, but shall give that which can be vouchee 1 
 for. 
 
 " You see, my respective hearers," he began bu 
 
THE HARDSHELL PREACHER. 139 
 
 alasJ I can never picture to you the rich red nose,, 
 the see-sawing gestures, the nasal resonance, the 
 sniffle, the melancholy minor key, and all that. 
 My respective hearers-ah, you see-ah as how-ah as 
 my tex -ah says that the ox-ah knoweth his owner-ah, / 
 and-ah the ass-ah his master s crib-ah. A-h-h! Now 
 ,my respective hearers-ah, they re a mighty sight of 
 resemblance-ah atwext men-ah and oxen-ah " [Ralph 
 could not help reflecting that there was a mighty 
 sight of resemblance between some men and asses. 
 But the preacher did not see this analogy. It lay 
 too close to him], " bekase-ah, you see, men-ah is 
 mighty like oxen-ah. Fer they s a tremengiouli 
 defference-ah atwixt defferent oxen-ah, jest as thai" 
 is atwext defferent men-ah ; fer the ox knoweth-ah 
 his owner-ah, and the ass-ah, his master s crib-ah. 
 Now, mj respective hearers-ah " [the preacher s 
 voice here grew mellow, and the succeeding sen 
 tences were in the most pathetic and lugubrious 
 tones], "you all know-ah that your humble speaker- 
 ah has got-ah jest the best yoke of steers-ah in this 
 township-ah." [Here Betsey Short shook the floor 
 with a suppressed titter.] " They a n t no sech 
 ^steers as them air two of mine-ah in this whole keden- 
 -try-ah. Them crack oxen over at Clifty-ah ha n t a 
 patchin to mine-ah. Fer the ox knoweth his own 
 er-ah, and the ass ah his master s crib-ah. 
 
140 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 " Now, my respective hearers-ah, they s a right 
 smart sight of defference-ah atwext them air two 
 oxen-ah, jest like they is atwext defferent men-ah. 
 Fer-ah " [here the speaker grew earnest, and sawed 
 the air, from this to the close, in a most frightful 
 way}, " fer-ah, you see-ah, when I go out-ah in the 
 mornin -ah to yoke-ah up-ah them air steers-ah, and 
 I says-ah, "Wo, Berry-ah ! Wo, Berry-ah! Wo, 
 BERRY-AH , why Berry-ah jest stands stock still-ah 
 and don t hardly breathe-ah while I put on the yoke- 
 ah, and put in the bow-ah, and put in the key-ah, 
 fer, rry brethering-ah and sistering-ah, the ox know- 
 eth his owner-ah, and the ass-ah his master s crib-ah. 
 Hal-le-lu-ger-ah! 
 
 " But-ah, my hearers-ah, but-ah when I stand at 
 t other eend of the yoke-ah, and say, Come, Buck- 
 ah! Come, Buck-ah! COME, BUCK-AH! COME, 
 BUCK-AH! why what do you think-ah r> Buck- 
 ah, that ornery ole Buck-ah, stid of cormn right 
 along-ah and puttin his neck under-ah, acts jest like 
 some men-ah \\4iat is fools-ah. Buck-ah. jest kinder . 
 sorter stands off-a4i, and kinder sorter puts his head 
 down-ah this ere way-ah, and kinder looks mad-ah ; , 
 and says, Boo-00-OO-OO-tf^ / " 
 
 Alas! Hartsook found no spiritual edification 
 
 there, and he was in no mood to be amused. And 
 
 * / so, while the sermon drew on through two dreary 
 
THE HARDSHELL PREACHER. 141 
 
 hours, he forgot the preacher in noticing a bright 
 green lizard which, having taken up its winter quar 
 ters behind the tin candlestick that hung just back 
 of the preacher s head, had been deceived by the 
 genial warmth coming from the great box-stove, 
 and now ran out two or three feet from his shelter^ 
 looking down upon the red-nosed preacher in a most 
 confidential and amusing manner. Sometimes he 
 would retreat behind the candlestick, which was not 
 twelve inches from the preacher s head, and then 
 rush out again. At each reappearance Betsey Short 
 would stuff her handkerchief into her mouth and 
 shake in a most distressing way. Shocky wondered 
 what the lizard was winking at the preacher about. 
 And Miss Martha thought that it reminded her of a 
 lizard that she see at the East, the time she was to 
 Bosting, in a jar of alcohol in the Natural History 
 Rooms. The Squire was not disappointed in his 
 anticipation that Mr. Bosaw would attack his de 
 nomination with some fury. In fact, the old preacher 
 outdid himself in his violent indignation at " these 
 tpeople that follow Campbell-ah, that thinks-ah that 
 obejience-ah will save em-ah and that belongs-ah 
 to temp rince societies-ah and Sunday-schools-ah 9 
 and them air things-ah, that s not ortherized in the 
 Bible-ah, but comes of the devil-ah, and takes folks 
 as belongs to em to h@ll-ah." 
 
142 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 As they came out the door Ralph rallied enough 
 to remark: " He did attack your people, Squire." 
 
 " Oh, yes, * said the Squire. " Didn t you see 
 the Sarpent inspirin him ? " 
 
 But the long, long hours were ended and Ralph 
 got on the clay-bank mare and rode up alongside 
 the stile whence Miss Martha mounted. And :$ 
 he went away with a heavy heart, he overheard Pete? 
 Jones call out to somebody: 
 
 " We ll tend to his case a Christmas." Christ 
 mas was two days off. 
 
 And Miss Martha remarked with much trepida 
 tion that poor Pearson would have to leave. She d 
 always besn afraid that would be the end of it. It 
 reminded her of something she heard at the East 
 tte &i*ne she was down to 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY. 
 
 THE school had closed on Monday evening as 
 usual. The boys had been talking in knots all day. 
 Nothing but the bulldog in the slender, resolute 
 young master had kept down the rising storm. A 
 teacher who has lost moral support at home, 
 can not long govern a school. Ralph had effectu 
 ally lost his popularity in the district, and the worst 
 of it was that he could not divine from just what 
 q carter the ill wind came, except that he : elt sure 
 or Small s agency in it somewhere. Even Hannah 
 lad slighted him, when he called at Means s on Mon 
 day morning to draw the pittance of pay that was 
 due him. 
 
 He had expected a petition for a holiday on Christ- 
 mas day. Such holidays are deducted from the 
 teacher s time, and it is customary for the boys to 
 4> *turn out" the teacher who refuses to grant them, 
 by barring him out of the school-house on Christ 
 mas and New Year s morning. Ralph had intended 
 to grant a holiday if it should be asked, but it was 
 
t44 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 not asked. Hank Banta was the ringleader in the 
 disaffection, and he had managed to draw the surly 
 Bud, who was present this morning, into it. It is 
 but fair to say that Bud was in favor of making r 
 request before resorting to extreme measures, but 
 he was overruled. He gave it as his solemn opin-> 
 ion that the master was mighty peart, and they 
 would be beat anyhow some way, but he would 
 lick the master fer two cents ef he warn t so slim 
 that he d feel like he was fighting a baby. 
 
 And all that day things looked black. Ralph s 
 countenance was cold and hard as stone, and Shocky 
 trembled where he sat. Betsey Short tittered rather 
 more than usual. A riot or a murder would have 
 seemed amusing to her. 
 
 Schoo was dismissed, and Ralph, instead of re 
 turning :o the Squire s, set out for the village >f 
 Clifty, a few miles away. No one knew what he 
 went for, and some sugg. sted that he had " sloped." 
 
 But Bud said "he warn t that air kind. He was 
 one of them air sort as died in their tracks, was Mr. 
 Hartsook. They d find him on the ground nex 
 morning, and he lowed the master war made oi 
 that air sort of stuff as would burn the dog-on d ole 
 school-house to ashes, or blow it into splinters, but 
 what he d beat. Howsumdever he d said he was 
 a-goin to help, and help he would ; but all the sinno 
 
A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY. 145 
 
 In Golier wouldn t be no account again the cute they 
 was in the head of the master." 
 
 Bnt Bud, discouraged as he was with the fear of 
 Ralph s " cute," went like a martyr to the stake and 
 took his place with the rest in the school-house at 
 nine o clock at night. It may have been Ralph s 
 intention to preoccupy the school-house, for at 
 ten o clock Hank Banta was set shaking from 
 head to foot at seeing a face that looked like the 
 master s at the window. He waked up Bud and 
 told him about it. 
 
 " Well, what are you a-tremblin about, you cow 
 ard ? " growled Bud. " He won t shoot you ; but 
 he ll beat you at this game, I ll bet a hoss, and me, 
 too, and make us both as shamed of ourselves as 
 dogs with tin-kittles to their tails. You don t know 
 the master, though he did duck you. But he ll larn 
 you a good lesson this time, and me too, like as not." 
 And Bud soon snored again, but Hank shook with 
 fear every time he looked at the blackness outside 
 the windows. He was sure he heard foot-falls. He 
 would have given anything to have been at home. 
 
 When morning came, the pupils began to gather 
 early. A few boys who were likely to prove of 
 service in the coming siege were admitted through 
 the window, and then everything was made fast, 
 
 and a " snack " was eaten. 
 10 
 
146 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 " How do you low he ll get in ? " said Hank, try. 
 ing to hide his fear. 
 
 " How do I low ? " said Bud. " I don t low 
 nothin about it. You might as well ax me where 
 I low the nex shootin star is a-goin to drap. Mr 
 Hartsook s mighty onsartin. But he ll git in, though^ 
 and tan your hide fer you, you see ef he don t. Ef 
 he don t blow up the school-house with gunpow 
 der ! " This last was thrown in by way of alleviat 
 ing the fears of the cowardly Hank, for whom Bud 
 had a great contempt. 
 
 The time for school had aknost come. The boys 
 inside were demoralized by waiting. They began 
 to hope that the master had "sloped." They 
 dreaded to see him coming. 
 
 "I don t believe he ll come," said Hank, with a 
 cold shiver. " It s past school-time." 
 
 " Yes, he will come, too," said Bud. "And he 
 lows to come in here mighty quick. I don t know 
 how. But he ll be a-standin at that air desk when 
 $t s nine o clock. I ll bet a thousand dollars on 
 that. Ef he don t take it into his head to blow us 
 4ip ! " Hank was now white. 
 
 Some of the parents came along, accidentally of 
 course, and stopped to see the fun, sure that Bud 
 would thrash the master if he tried to break in 
 ij on the way to see a patient perhaps, reined 
 
A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERYc 14? 
 
 up in front of the door. Still i.o Ralph. It was 
 just five minuves before nine. A rumor now gained 
 currency that he had been seen going to Clifty the 
 evening before, and that he had not come back, 
 though in fact Ralph had come back, and had slept 
 at Squire Hawkins s. 
 
 " There s the master/* cried Betsey Short, whou 
 stood out in the road shivering and giggling alter- 
 nately. For Ralph at that moment emerged from, 
 the sugar-camp by the school-house, carrying a 
 board. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " laughed Hank, " he thinks hell smoke 
 us out. I guess he ll find us ready." The boys 
 had let the fire burn down, and there was now noth 
 ing but hot hickory coals on the hearth. 
 
 " I tell you he ll come in. He didn t go to Clifty 
 fer nothin ," said Bud, who sat still on one of the 
 benches which leaned against the door. " I don t 
 know how, but they s lots of ways of killing a cat 
 besides chokin* her with butter. He ll come in * 
 efhe don t blow us all sky-high! " 
 
 Ralph s voice was now heard, demanding that the 
 door be opened. 
 
 " Let s open her," said Hank, turning livid wittt! 
 fear at the firm, confident tone of the master. 
 
 Bud straightened himself up. " Hank, you re a 
 coward. I ve got a mind to kick you. You got me 
 
S48 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 Into this blamed mess, and now you want to craw* 
 fish. You jest tech one of these ere fastenin s, and 
 I ll lay you out flat of your back afore you can 
 say Jack Robinson." 
 
 The teacher was climbing to the roof with the 
 board in hand. 
 
 " That air won t win," laughed Pete Jones out 
 side. He saw that there was no smoke. Even Bud 
 began to hope that Ralph would fail for once. The 
 master was now on the ridge-pole of the school* 
 house. He took a paper from his pocket, and de 
 Hberately poured the contents down the chimney. 
 
 Mr. Pete Jones shouted "Gunpowder!" and 
 set off down the road to be out of the way of the 
 explosion. Dr. Small remembered, probably, that 
 his patient might die while he sat here, and started 
 on. 
 
 But Ralph emptied the paper, and laid the board 
 ,)ver the chimney. What a row there was inside! 
 fhe benches that were braced against the door were 
 thrown down, and Hank Banta rushed out, rubbing 
 his eyes, coughing frantically, and sure that he had 
 been blown up. All the rest followed, Bud bring 
 ing up the rear sulkily, but coughing and sneezing 
 Cor dear life. Such a smell of sulphur as came from 
 that school-house! 
 
 Betsey had to lean against the fence to giggle, 
 
A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY. 149 
 
 As soon as all were out, Ralph threw the board 
 off the chimney, leaped to the ground, entered the 
 school-house, and opened the windows. The school 
 soon followed him, and all was still. 
 
 " Would he thrash ? " This was the important 
 question in Hank Banta s mind. And the rest 
 looked for a battle with Bud. 
 
 " It is just nine o clock," said Ralph, consulting) 
 his watch, " and I m glad to see you all here prompt 
 ly. I should have given you a holiday if you had 
 asked me like gentlemen yesterday. On the whole, 
 I tMnk I shall give you a holiday, anyhow. The 
 school is dismissed." 
 
 And Hank felt foolish. 
 
 And Bud secretly resolved to thrash Hankorth6 
 master, he didn t care which. 
 
 And Mirandy looked the love she could not 
 
 Ad Betsey giggled. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A CRISIS WITH BUD. 
 
 / RALPH sat still at his desk. The school had gone, 
 ;A11 at once he became conscious that Shocky sat 
 yet in his accustomed place upon the hard, backless 
 bench. 
 
 " Why, Shocky, haven t you gone yet ? " 
 
 " No sir I was waitin to see if you warn t 
 a-goin , too I " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " I thought it would make me feel as if God 
 warn t quite so fur away to talk to you. It did the 
 other day." 
 
 The master rose and put his hand on Shocky s 
 head. Was it the brotherhood in affliction that 
 made Shocky s words choke him so ? Or, was it 
 the weird thoughts that he expressed? Or, was it 
 the recollection that Shocky was Hannah s brother ? 
 Hannah so far, far away from him now! At any 
 rate, Shocky, looking up for the smile on which he 
 fed, saw the relaxing of the master s face, that had 
 been as hard as stone, and felt just one hot tear on 
 his hand. 
 
A CRISIS WITH BUD. 1$ I 
 
 " PVaps God s forgot you, too," said Shocky in 
 a sort of half soliloquy. " Better get away from 
 Flat Creek. You see God forgets everybody down 
 here. *Cause most everybody forgets God, cept 
 Mr. Bosaw, and I low God don t no ways keer tc 
 be remembered by sich as him. Leastways I wouldn t 
 if I was God, you know. I wonder what becomes^ 
 of folks when God forgets em ? " And Shocky, 
 seeing that the roaster had resumed his seat and was 
 looking absently into the fire, moved slowly out the 
 door. 
 
 " Shocky! " called the master. 
 
 The little poet came back and stood before him. 
 
 " Shocky, you mustn t think God has forgotten 
 you. Gojdjbrings things out right at last." But 
 Ralph s own faith was weak, and his words sounded 
 hollow and hypocritical to himself. Would God in 
 deed bring things out right ? 
 
 He sat musing a good while, trying to convince 
 himseif of the truth of what he had just been say 
 ing to Shocky that God would indeed bring things 
 out right at last. Would it all come out right if 
 Bud married Hannah ? Would k all come out right 
 if he were driven from Flat Creek with a dark sus^ 
 picion upon his character ? Did God concern him 
 self with these things ? Was there any God ? It 
 was the same old struggle between Doubt and 
 
/ 
 
 $52 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Faith. And when Ralph looked up, Shocky had 
 departed. 
 
 In the nxt hour Ralph fought the old battle af 
 Armageddon. (I shall not describe it). You will fight 
 it in your own way. No two alike. The important 
 thing is the End. If you come out as he did, with 
 the doubt gone and the trust in God victorious, it 
 ^ matters little just what shape the battle may take. 
 / Since Jacob became Israel there have never been 
 two such struggles alike, save in that they all end 
 either in victory or in defeat. 
 
 It was after twelve o clock on that Christmas day 
 when Ralph put his head out the door of the school- 
 house and called out: "Bud, I d like to see you." 
 
 Bud did not care to see the master, for he had 
 inly resolved to " thrash him " and have done with 
 him. But he couldn t back out, certainly not in 
 sight of the others who were passing along the road 
 with him. 
 
 " I don t want the rest of you/* said Ralph in a 
 decided way, as he saw that Hank and one or two 
 others were resolved to come also. 
 
 "Thought maybe you d want somebody to see 
 far play," said Hank as he went off sheepishly. 
 
 " If I did, you would be the last one I should ask," 
 said Ralph. ** There s no unfair play in Bud, and 
 there is in you." And he shut the door. 
 
FIRE AND BRIMSTONE 
 
A CRISIS WITH BUD. 
 
 "Now, looky here, Mr. Ralph Hartsook," said 
 Bud. " You don t come no gum games over me 
 with your saft sodder and all that. I ve made up 
 my mind. You ve got to promise to leave thess 
 ere diggins, or I ve got to thrash you/ 
 
 "You ll have to thrash me, then/ said Ralph, 
 turning a little pale, but remembering the bulldog, t 
 "But you ll tell me what it s all about, won t you?" 
 
 " You know well enough. Folks says you know 
 more bout the robbery at the Dutchman s than you 
 orter. But I don t believe them. Fer them as says 
 it is liars and thieves theirselves. Ta n t fer none 
 of that. And I shan t tell you what it is fer. So 
 now, if you won t travel, why, take off your coat 
 and git ready fer a thrashing." 
 
 The master took off his coat and showed his slen 
 der arms. Bud laid his off, and showed the physique 
 of a prize-fighter. 
 
 "You a n t a-goin to fight me?" said Bud, 
 
 " Not unless you make me." 
 
 * Why I could chaw you all up." 
 
 tt I know that." 
 
 "Well, you re the grittiest feller I ever did >ee, 
 kiid ef you d jest kep off of my ground I wouldn t 
 a touched you. But I a n t a-goin to be cut out by 
 no feller a livin thout thrashin him in an inch of 
 his life. You see I wanted to git out of this Flat 
 
54 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Crick way. We re a low-lived set here in Flat Crick. 
 And I says to myself, I ll try to be somethin more 
 nor Pete Jones, and dad, and these other triftin , 
 good-fer-nothin ones bout here. And when you 
 <come I says, There s one as ll help me. And what 
 do you do with yor book-larnm and town manners 
 but start right out to git away the gal that Fd picked^ 
 cut, when I d picked her out kase I thought, not 
 bein Flat Crick born herself, she might help a feller 
 to do better! Now I won t let nobody cut me out 
 without givin em the best thrashin it s in these 
 ere arms to give." 
 
 " But I haven t tried to cut you out." 
 
 " You can t fool me" 
 
 " Bud, listen to me, and then thrash me if you 
 will. I went with that girl once. When I found 
 you had some claims, I gave her up. Not because 
 I was afraid of you, for I would rather have taken 
 the worst thrashing you can give me than give her 
 up. But I haven t spoken to her since the night of 
 the first spelling-school." 
 
 " You lie ! " said Bud, doubling his fists. 
 
 Ralph grew red. 
 
 "You was a-waitin on her last Sunday right 
 afore my eyes, and a-tryki to ketch my attention 
 too. So when you re ready say so." 
 
 " Bud, there is some misunderstanding." Hart* 
 
A CRISIS WITH BUD, 155 
 
 sook spoke slowly and felt bewildered. " I tell you 
 that I did not speak to Hannah last Sunday, and 
 you know I didn t. * 
 
 * Hanner ! " Bud s eyes grew large. " Hanner ! * 
 
 Here he gasped for breath, and looked around 
 
 * Hanner! " He couldn t get any further than the 
 
 flame at first. " Why, plague take it, who said Han 
 
 " Mirandy said you were courting Hannah," said 
 Ralph, feeling round in a vague way to get his ideas 
 together. 
 
 "Mirandy! Thunder! You believed Mirandy! 
 Well! Now, looky here, Mr. Hartsook, ef you 
 was to say that my sister lied, I d lick you till 
 yer hide wouldn t hold shucks. But /say, a-twix 
 you and me and the gate-post, don t you never 
 believe nothing that Mirandy Means says. Her 
 and marm has set theirselves like fools to git 
 you. Hanner! Well, she s a mighty nice gal, but 
 you re welcome to her. I never tuck no shine that 
 air way. But I was out of school last Thursday 
 and Friday a-shucking corn to take to mill a-Satur. 
 day. And when I come past the Squire s and seed 
 you talking to a gal as is a gal, you know" here 
 Bud hesitated and looked foolish " I felt hoppin 
 mad." 
 
 Bud put on his coat. 
 
2 $6 JHE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Ralph put on his coat. 
 
 Then they shook hands and Bud went out. Ralph 
 sat looking into the fire. There was no conscien 
 tious difficulty now in the way of his claiming Han 
 nah. The dry forestick lying on the rude stonf 
 andirons burst into a blaze. The smoldering hop 
 iu che heart of Ralph Hartsook did the same. He 
 could have Hannah if he could win her. But then 
 came slowly back the recollection of his loct stand 
 ing in Flat Creek. There was circumstantial evi 
 dence against him. It was evident that Hannah be 
 lieved something of this. What other stories Small 
 might have put in circulation he did not know. 
 Would Small try to win Hannah s love to throw it 
 away again, as he had done with others ? At least 
 he would not spare any pains to turn the heart of 
 tht bound girl against Ralph. 
 
 The bright flame on the forestick, which Ralph 
 been watching, flickered and burned low. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TME CHURCH OF THE BEST LICKS. 
 
 JUST as the flame on the forestick, which 
 had watched so intensely, flickered and burned low, 
 and just as Ralph with a heavy but not quite hope- 
 less heart rose to leave, the latch lifted and Bud re 
 entered. 
 
 " I wanted to say something," he stammered, " but 
 you know it s hard to say it. I ha n t no book-larn- 
 in to speak of, and some things is hard to say when 
 a man ha n t got book-words to say em with. And 
 they s some things a man can t hardly ever say any 
 how to anybody." 
 
 Here Bud stopped. But Ralph spoke in such a 
 rnatter-of-course way in reply that he felt encour 
 tged to go on. 
 
 " You gin up Hanner kase you thought she be* 
 fonged to me. That s more n I d a done by a long 
 shot. Now, arter I left here jest now, I says to my- 
 self, a man what can gin up his gal on account of 
 3ech a feeling fer the rights of a Flat Cricker like 
 m*% why dog-on it, says I, sech a man is the man 
 
158 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 as can help me do better. I don t know whether 
 
 you re a Hardshell or a Saftshell, or a Methodist, 
 
 I or a Campbellite, or a New Light, or a United 
 
 Brother, or a Millerite, or what-not. But I says 
 
 the man what can do the clean thing by a ugly fei 
 
 / ler like me, and stick to it, when I was jest ready 
 
 to eat him up, is a kind of a man to tie to." 
 
 Here Bud stopped in fright at his own volubility, 
 for he had run his words off like i piece learned by 
 heart, as though afraid that if h*- stopped he would 
 not have courage to go on. 
 
 Ralph said that he did not belong to any church, 
 and he was afraid he couldn t do Bud much good. 
 But his tone was full of sympathy, and, what is bet- 
 ter than sympathy, a yearning for sympathy. 
 / " You see," said Bud, " I wanted to git out of this 
 low-lived, Flat Crick way of livin We re a hard 
 set down here, Mr. Hartsook. And I m gittin te 
 be one of the hardest of em. But I never could 
 git no good out of Bosaw with his whisky and mean 
 ness. And I went to the Mount Tabor church con 
 cert. I heard a man discussin baptism, and regea 
 ^ration, and so on. That didn t seem no cure for me., 
 I went to a revival over at Clifty. Well, twarn t 
 no use. First night they was a man that spoke 1 
 about Jesus Christ in sech a way that I wanted to 
 toiler him everywhere. But I didn t feel fit. Next 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE BEST LICKS. 159 
 
 night I come back with my mind made up that I d 
 try Jesus Christ, and see ef he d have me. But 
 laws ! they was a big man that night that preached 
 hell. Not that I don t believe they s a hell. They a 
 plenty not a thousand miles away as deserves it, and V* 
 don t know as I m too good for it myself. But 
 ?ie pitched it at us, and stuck it in our faces in sech 
 4 way that I got mad. And I says, Well, ef God 
 sends me to hell he can t make me holler nough 
 siohow. You see my dander was up. And when 
 my dander s up, I wouldn t gin up fer the devil his- 
 self. The preacher was so insultin with his way 
 of doin it. He seemed to be kind of glad that we 
 was to be damned, and he preached somethin like 
 some folks swears. It didn t sound a bit like the 
 Christ the little man preached about the night afore* 
 So what does me and a lot of fellers do but slip out 
 and cut off the big preacher s stirrups, and hang 
 "em on to the rider of the fence, and then set his 
 hoss loose ! And from that day, sometimes I did,, 
 and sometimes I didn t, want to be better. And 
 to-day it seemed to me that you must know some 
 ; thin as would help me." 
 
 Nothing is worse than a religious experience kept 
 peady to be exposed to the gaze of everybody, 
 whether the time is appropriate or not. But never 
 Was a fforfgious experience more appropriate than 
 
460 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 the account which Ralph gave to Bud of his Strug* 
 gle in the Dark. The confession of h : j weakness 
 and wicked selfishness was a great comfort to Bud. 
 
 " Do you think that Jesus Christ would would 
 well, do you think he d help a poor, unlarnt Flat 
 Cricker like me ? " 
 
 " I think he was a sort of a Flat Creeker him 
 self," said Ralph, slowly and very earnestly. 
 
 "You don t say?" said Bud, almost getting off 
 his seat. 
 
 " Why, you see the town he lived in was a rough 
 place. It was called Nazareth, which meant Bush- 
 town. " 
 
 "You don t say?" 
 
 "And he was called a Nazarene, which was about 
 A the same as backwoodsman. " 
 
 And Ralph read the different passages which he 
 had studied at Sunday-school, illustrating the con 
 descension of Jesus, the stones of the publicans, 
 the harlots, the poor, who came to him. And he 
 read about Nathanael, who lived only six miles 
 away, saying, Can any good thing come out o f " 
 Nazareth ? " 
 
 " Jus what Clifty folks says about Flat Crick, 
 broke in Bud. 
 
 " Do you think I could begin without being bap 
 tized ? " he added presently. 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE BEST LICKS. l6l 
 
 " Why not f Let s begin now to do the best we 
 can, by his help." 
 
 "You mean, then, that I m to begin now to put 
 In my best licks for Jesus Christ, and that he ll 
 help me ? " 
 
 This shocked Ralph s veneration a little. But it 
 was the sincere utterance of an earnest soul. It 
 may not have been an orthodox start, but it was 
 the one start for Bud. And there be those who 
 have repeated with the finest aesthetic appreciation 
 the old English liturgies who have never known 
 religious aspiration so sincere as that of this ignorant 
 young flercules, whose best confession was that he 
 meant hereafter " to put in his best licks for Jesus 
 Christ." And there be those who can define re* 
 pentance and faith to the turning of a hair who 
 never made so genuine a start for the kingdom of 
 Heaven as Bud Means did. 
 
 Ralph said yes, that he thought that was just it. 
 At least, he guessed if there was something more, 
 the man that was putting in his best licks would be 
 sure to find it out. 
 
 " Do you think he d help a feller ? Seems to me 
 it would be number one to have God help you. 
 Not to help you fight other folks, but to help you 
 when it comes to fighting the devil inside. But 
 you see I don t beloner to no church " 
 
162 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 "Well, let s you and me have one right off. Two 
 people that help one another to serve God make a 
 church." 
 
 I am afraid this ecclesiastical theory will not be 
 considered orthodox. It was Ralph s, and I write it 
 down at the risk of bringing him into condemnation. 
 
 But other people before the days of Bud and 
 Ralph have discussed church organization when 
 they should have been doing Christian work. For 
 both of them had forgotten the danger that hung 
 over the old basket-maker, until Shocky burst into 
 the school-house, weeping. Indeed, the poor, ner 
 vous little frame was ready to go into convulsions. 
 
 "Miss Hawkins " 
 
 Bud started at mention of the name. 
 
 " Miss Hawkins has just been over to say that a 
 crowd is going to tar and feather Mr. Pearson to 
 night. And " here Shocky wept again. "And 
 
 he won t run, but he s took up the old flintlc :k, and 
 e ll die in his tracks." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE CHURCH MILITANT. 
 
 BUD was doubly enlisted on the side of John 
 Fearson, the basket-maker. In the first place, he 
 kfiew that this persecution of the unpopular old 
 man was only a blind to save somebody else ; that 
 they were thieves who cried, " Stop thief!" And 
 he felt consequently that this was a chance to put 
 his newly-formed resolutions into practice. _The 
 Old Testament religious life, which consists iri fight 
 ing the Lord s enemies, suited Bud s temper anj 
 education. It might lead to something better. It 
 was the best possible to him, now. But I am afraid 
 I shall have to acknowledge that there was a 
 second motive that moved Bud to this champion 
 ship. The good heart of Martha Hawkins having 
 espoused the cause of the basket-maker, the heart 
 of Bud Means could not help feeling warmly on the 
 same side. Blessed is that man in whose life the 
 driving of duty and the drawing of love impel the 
 same way! But why speak of the driving of duty? 
 For already Bud was learning the better lesson ol 
 serving God for the love of God. 
 
164 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 The old basket-maker was the most unpopular 
 man in Flat Creek district. He had two great vices. 
 He would go to Clifty and have a " spree " once - n 
 three months. And he would tell the truth in a most 
 unscrupulous manner. A man given to plain speak 
 ing was quite as objectionable in Flat Creek as he 
 would have been in France under the Empire, the 
 Commune, or the Republic, and almost as objec 
 tionable as he would be in any refined community 
 in America. People who live in glass houses have a 
 horror of people who throw stones. And the old 
 basket-maker, having no friends, was a good scape 
 goat. In driving him off, Pete Jones would get rid 
 of a dangerous neighbor and divert attention from 
 himself. The immediate crime of the basket-maker 
 was that he had happened to see too much. 
 
 " Mr. Hartsook," said Bud, when they got out into 
 the road, "you d better go straight home to the 
 Squire s. Bekase ef this lightnin strikes a second 
 time it ll strike awful closte to you. You hadn t 
 better be seen with us. Which way did you come, 
 Sbocky?" 
 
 " Why, I tried to come down the hollej, but I 
 met Jones right by the big road, and he sweared at 
 tene and said he d kill me ef I didn t go back and 
 stay. And so I went back to the house and then 
 slipped out through the graveyard. You see I was 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT. 165 
 
 bound to come ef I got skinned. For Mr. Pearson s 
 stuck to me and I mean to stick to him, you see. * 
 
 Bud led Shocky through the graveyard. But 
 when they reached the forest path from the grave 
 yard he thought that perhaps it was not best tc 
 "show his hand," as he expressed it, too soon. 
 
 " Now, Shocky/ he said, "do you run ahead and 
 tell the ole man that I want to see him right off 
 down by the Spring-in-rock. I ll keep closte behind 
 you, and ef anybody offers to trouble you, do you 
 let off a yell and I ll be thar in no time." 
 
 When Ralph left the school-house he felt mean. 
 There were Bud and Shocky gone on an errand of 
 mercy, and he, the truant member of the Church of 
 the Best Licks, was not with them. The more he 
 thought of it the more he seemed to be a coward, 
 and the more he despised himself; so, yielding as 
 usual to the first brave impulse, he leaped nimbly 
 over the fence and started briskly through the for 
 est in a direction intersecting the path on which 
 were Bud and Shocky. He came in sight just in 
 time to see the first conflict of the Church Si *be 
 Wilderness with her foes. 
 
 For Shocky s little feet went more swiftly OR 
 their eager errand than Bud had anticipated. He 
 got farther out of Bud s reach than the latter in 
 tended he should, and he did not discover Pet 
 
l66 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Jones until Pete, with his hog-drover s whip, was 
 right upon him. 
 
 Shocky tried to halloo for Bud, but he was like 
 one in a nightmare. The yell died into a whisper 
 <vhich could not have been heard ten feet. 
 
 I shall not repeat Mr. Jones s words. They were 
 frightfully profane. But he did not stop at words. 
 He swept his whip round and gave little Shocky 
 one terrible cut. Then the voice was released, and 
 the piercing cry of pain brought Bud down the path 
 flying. 
 
 "You good-for-nothing scoundrel," growled Bud, 
 "you re a coward and a thief to be a-beatin a little 
 creetur like him ! " and with that Bud walked up 
 on Jones, who prudently changed position in such 
 a way as to get the upper side of the hill. 
 
 " Well, I ll gin you the upper side, but come on," 
 cried Bud, " ef you a n t afeared to fight somebody 
 besides a poor little skkly baby or a crippled sol 
 dier. Come on ! " 
 
 Pete was no insignificant antagonist. He had 
 been a great fighter, and his well-seasoned arms 
 were like iron. He had not the splendid set of Bud, 
 but he had more skill and experience in the rude 
 tournament of fists to which the backwoods is so 
 much given. Now, being out of sight of witnesses 
 and sure that he could lie about the fight afterward^ 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT. 167 
 
 he did not scruple to take advantages which would 
 have disgraced him forever if he had taken them in 
 a public fight on election day or at a muster. He 
 tov the uphill side, and he clubbed his whip-stalk,, 
 striking Bud with all his force with the heavy endi 
 which, coward-like, he had loaded with lead. BUG 
 threw up his strong left arm and parried the blow, 
 which, however, was so fierce that it fractured one 
 of the bones of the arm. Throwing away his 
 whip Pete rushed upon Bud furiously, intending to 
 overpower him, but Bud slipped quickly to one side 
 and let Jones pass down the hill, and as Jones came 
 up again Means dealt him one crushing blow that 
 sent him full length upon the ground. Nothing but 
 the leaves saved him from a most terrible fall. Jones 
 sprang to his feet more angry than ever at being 
 whipped by one whom he regarded as a boy, and 
 drew a long dirk-knife. But he was blind with rage, 
 and Bud dodged the knife, and this time gave Pete 
 a blow on the nose which marred the homeliness of 
 that feature and doubled the fellow up against a 
 tree ten feet away. 
 
 Ralph came in sight in time to see the beginning 
 of the fight, and he arrived on the ground just as 
 Pete Jones went down under the well-dealt blow, 
 from the only remaining fist of Bud Means. 
 
 While Ralph examined Bud s disabled k^ 
 
168 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Pete picked himself up slowly, and, muttering that 
 he felt "ccnsid able shuck up like," crawled away 
 like a whipped puppy. To every one whom he met, 
 Pete, whose intellect seemed to have weakened ha 
 sympathy with his frame, remarked feebly that he 
 was consid able shuck up like, and vouchsafed no 
 other explanation. Even to his wife he only said 
 that he felt purty consid able shuck up like, and 
 that the boys would have to get on to-night without 
 him. There are some scoundrels whose very malig 
 nity is shaken out of them for the time being by a 
 thorough drubbing. 
 
 " I m afraid you re going to have trouble with 
 your arm, Bud," said Ralph tenderly. 
 
 " Never mind ; I put in my best licks fer Him, 
 that air time, Mr. Hartsook." RMph shivered a 
 little at thought of this, but if it was right to knock 
 Jones down at all, why might not Bud do it "heart 
 ily as unto the Lord ? " 
 
 Gideon did not feel any more honest pleasure in 
 chastising the Midianites than did Bud in sending 
 Pete Jones away purty consid able shuck up like. 
 
BUD MEANS COMES TO THE RESCUE OF SHOCKY 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 SHOCKY, whose feet had flown as soon as he saw 
 the final fall of Pete Jones, told the whole story to 
 the wondering and admiring ears of Miss Hawkins, 
 who unhappily could not remember anything at the 
 East just like it ; to the frightened ears of the rheu 
 matic old lady who felt sure her ole man s talk and 
 stubbornness would be the ruin of him, and to the 
 indignant ears of the old soldier who was hobbling 
 up and down, sentinel-wise, in front of his cabin s 
 standing guard over himself. 
 
 " No, I won t leave," he said to Ralph and Bud. 
 "You see I jest won t. What would Gin ral Win^ 
 field Scott say ef he knew that one of them as fit 
 at Lundy s Lane backed out, retreated, run fer fear 
 *of a passel of thieves ? No, sir ; me and the old 
 flintlock will live and die together. I ll put a thun< 
 derin charge of buckshot into the first one of them 
 scoundrels as comes up the holler. It ll be another 
 Lundy s Lane. And you, Mr. Hartsook, may send 
 Scott word that ole Psarson, as fit at Lundy s Lane 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 under him, died a-fightin thieves on Rocky Branch, 
 in Hoopole Kyounty, State of Injeanny." 
 
 And the old man hobbled faster and faster, taxing 
 his wooden leg to the very utmost, as if his victory 
 depended on the vehemence with which he walked 
 his beat. 
 
 Mrs. Pearson sat wringing her hands and looking 
 appealingly at Martha Hawkins, who stood in the 
 door, in despair, looking appealingly at Bud. Bud 
 was stupefied by the old man s stubbornness and his 
 own pain, and in his turn appealed mutely to the 
 master, in whose resources he had boundless confi 
 dence. Ralph, seeing that all depended on him, 
 was taxing his wits to think of some way to get 
 round Pearson s stubbornness. Shocky hung to 
 the old man s coat and pulled away at him with 
 many entreating words, but the venerable, bare- 
 headed sentinel strode up and down furiously, with 
 his flintlock on his shoulder and his basket-knife in 
 liis belt. 
 
 Just at this point somebody could be seen indis 
 tinctly through the bushes coming up the hollow. 
 
 " Halt ! " cried the old hero. " Who goes there ? * . 
 
 " It s me, Mr. Pearson. Don t shoot me, please." 
 
 It was the voice of Hannah Thomson. Hearing 
 that the whole neighborhood was rising against the 
 benefactor of Shocky and of her family, she had 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR, I/I 
 
 slipped away from the eyes of her mistress, and run 
 with breathless haste to give warning in the cabin 
 on Rocky Branch. Seeing Ralph, she blushed, and 
 went into the cabin. 
 
 " Well," said Ralph, " the enemy is not coming 
 yet. Let us hold a council of war/* 
 
 This thought came to Ralph like an inspiration, 
 It pleased the old man s whim, and he sat down on 
 the door-step. 
 
 " Now, I suppose," said Ralph, " that General 
 Winfield Scott always looked into things a little be- 
 fore he went into a fight. Didn t he ? " 
 
 " To be sure," assented the old man. 
 
 " Well," said Ralph. " What is the condition of 
 the enemy ? I suppose the whole neighborhood s 
 against us." 
 
 " To be sure," said the old man. The rest were 
 silent, but all felt the statement to be about true. 
 
 " Next," said Ralph, " I suppose General Winfield 
 Scott would always inquire into the condition of his 
 ;own troops. Now let us see. Captain Pearson has 
 Bud, who is the right wing, badly crippled by hav 
 ing his arm broken in the first battle." (Miss 
 kins looked pale.) 
 
 " To be sure," said the old man. 
 
 "And I am the left wing, pretty good at 
 advice, but very slender in a 
 
t?72 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 "To be sure," said the old man. 
 
 And Shocky and Miss Martha and Hannah good 
 aids, but nothing in a battle." 
 
 " To be sure," said the basket-maker, a little doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Now let s look at the arms and accouterments, 
 i think you call them. Well, this old musket has 
 been loaded " 
 
 " This ten year," said the old lady. 
 
 "And the lock is so rusty that you could not 
 cock it when you wanted to take aim at Hannah." 
 
 The old man looked foolish, and muttered " To 
 be sure." 
 
 "And there isn t another round of ammunition in 
 the house." 
 
 The o4d man was silent. 
 
 " Now let us look at the incumbrances. Here s 
 the old lady and Shocky. If you fight, the enemy 
 will be pleased. It will give them a chance to kill 
 you. And then the old lady will die and they will 
 do with Shocky as they please." 
 
 " To be sure," said the old man reflectively. 
 
 " Now," said Ralph, " General Winfield Scott, un 
 der such circumstances, would retreat in good order. 
 Then, when he could muster his forces rightly, he 
 would drive the enemy from his ground." 
 
 " To be sure/ said the old man. " What ort I to 
 do?" 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 Have you any friends ? " 
 
 "Well, yes; ther s my brother over in Jacksoe 
 Kyounty. I mout go there." 
 
 " Well," said Bud, " do you just go down to Spring- 
 in-rock and stay there. Them folks won t be here 
 tell midnight. I ll come fer you at nine with my 
 roan colt, and I ll set you down over on the big road 
 on Buckeye Run. Then you can git on the mail- 
 wagon that passes there about five o clock in the 
 mornin , and go over to Jackson County and keep 
 shady till we want you to face the enemy and to 
 swear agin some folks. And then we ll send fer 
 you." 
 
 " To be sure," said the old man in a broken voice, 
 " I reckon General Winfield Scott wouldn t disap 
 prove of such a maneuver as that thar." 
 
 Miss Martha beamed on Bud to his evident de 
 light, for he carried his painful arm part of the way 
 home with her. Ralph noticed that Hannah looked 
 at him with a look full of contending emotions. 
 He read admiration, gratitude, and doubt in the 
 
 expression of her face, as she turned toward homeo 
 
 \ 
 
 " Well, good-by, ole woman," said Pearson, as he 
 took up his little handkerchief full of things and 
 started for his hiding-place; "good-by. I didn t 
 never think I d desart you, and ef the old flintlock 
 hadn t a been rusty. I d a staid and died right here 
 
174 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 by the ole cabin. But I reckon ta n t best to be 
 brash." 1 And Shocky looked after him, as he hob 
 bled away over the stones, more than ever convinced 
 that God had forgotten all about things on Flat 
 Creek. He gravely expressed his opinion to the 
 master the next day. 
 
 1 The elaborate etymological treatment of this word in its various 
 forms in our best dictionary is a fine illustration of the fact that some 
 thing more than scholarship is needed for penetrating the mysteries 
 of current folk-speech. B^ash often bresh in the sense of refuse 
 boughs of trees, is only another form of brush; the two are used as 
 one word by the people. Brash in the sense of brittle has no 
 conscious connection with the noun in popular usage, but it is ac 
 counted by the people the same word as brash in the sense of rash or 
 impetuous. The suggestion in the Century Dictionary that the words 
 spelled brash are of modern formation violates the soundest canon of 
 antiquarian research, which is that a word phrase or custom widelv 
 diffused among plain or rustic people is of necessity of ancient origin. 
 Now brash, the adjective, exists in both senses in two or three of the 
 most widely separated dialects of the United States, and hence must 
 have come from England. Indeed, it appears in Wright s Dictionary 
 of Provincial English in precisely the sense it lias in the test. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
 THE Spring-in-rock, or, as it was sometimes, by 
 a curious perversion, called, the " rock-in-spring," 
 was a spring running out of a cave-like fissure in & 
 high limestone cliff. Here the old man sheltered 
 himself on that dreary Christmas evening, until Bud 
 brought his roan colt to the top of the cliff above, 
 and he and Ralph helped the old man up the cliff 
 and into the saddle. Ralph went back to bed, but 
 Bud, who was only too eager to put in his best licks, 
 walked by the side of old John Pearson the six 
 miles over to Buckeye Run, and at last, after eleven 
 o clock, he deposited him in a hollow sycamore by 
 the road, there to wait the coming of the mail-wagon 
 that would carry him into Jackson County. 
 
 " Good by," said the basket-maker, as Bud 
 mounted the colt to return. " Ef I m wanted jest 
 send me word, and I ll make a forrard movement 
 any time. I d6n t like this ere thing of running off 
 in the night-time. But I reckon General Winfield 
 Scott would a ordered a retreat ef he d a been in 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 my shoes. I m lots obleeged to you. Akordin to 
 my tell, we re all of us selfish if. everything ; but I ll 
 be dog-on d ef I don t believe you and one or two 
 more is exceptions." 
 
 Whether it was that the fact that Pete Jones had 
 got consid able shuck up demoralized his followers, 
 or whether it was that the old man s flight was sus 
 pected, the mob did not turn out in very great force, 
 and the tarring was postponed indefinitely, for by 
 the time they came together it became known some* 
 how that the man with a wooden leg had outrun 
 them all. But the escape of one devoted victim 
 did not mollify the feelings of the people toward 
 the next one, 
 
 By the time Bud returned his arm was very pain 
 ful, and the next day he went under Dr. Small s 
 treatment to reduce the fracture. Whatever sus 
 picions Bud might have of Pete Jones, he was not 
 afflicted with Ralph s dread of the silent young 
 doctor. And if there was anything Small admired 
 it was physical strength and courage. } Small wanted 
 Bud on his side, and least of all did he want him to 
 be Ralph s champion. So that the silent, cool, and 
 skillful doctor went to work to make an impression 
 on Bud Means. 
 
 Other influences were at work upon him also. 
 Mrs. Means volleyed and thundered in her usual 
 
ODDS AND ENDS. 177 
 
 style about his " takin up with a one-legged thief, 
 and runnin arter that master that was a mighty 
 suspicious kind of a customer, akordin to her tell, 
 She d allers said so. Ef she d a been consulted he 
 wouldn t a been hired. He warn t fit company fer 
 nobody." 
 
 And old Jack Means lowed Bud must want to 
 have their barns burnt like some other folkses had 
 been. Fer his part, he had sense enough to know 
 they was some people as it wouldn t do to set a 
 body s self agin. And as fer him, he didn t butt his 
 brains out agin a buckeye-tree. Not when he vas 
 sober. And so they managed, during Bud s con 
 finement to the house, to keep him well supplied 
 with all the ordinary discomforts of life. 
 
 But one visit from Martha Hawkins, ten words 
 of kindly inquiry from her, and the remark that his 
 broken arm reminded her of something she had 
 seen at the East and something somebody said the 
 time she was to Bosting, were enough to repay the 
 champion a thousand fold for all that he suffered. 
 Indeed, that visit, and the recollection of Ralph s 
 saying that Jesus Christ was a sort of a Flat Creekei 
 himself, were manna in the wilderness to Bud. 
 
 Poor Shocky was sick. The excitement had been 
 too much for him, and though his fever was very 
 slight it was enough to produce just a little delir* 
 
178 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 ium. Either Ralph or Miss Martha was generally 
 at the cabin. 
 
 " They re coming," said Shocky to Ralph/ they re 
 coming. Pete Jones is a-going to bind me out for 
 a hundred years. I wish Manner would hold me 
 ipo s he couldn t. God s forgot all about us here in 
 Flat Creek, and there s nobody to help it." 
 
 And he shivered at every sudden sound. He 
 was never free from this delirious fright except 
 when the master held him tight in his arms. He 
 staggered around the floor, the very shadow of 
 Shocky, and was so terrified bv the approach of 
 darkness that Ralph staid in the cabin on Wednes 
 day night and Miss Hawkins staid on Thursday 
 night. On Friday, Bud sent a i, ite to Ralph, asking 
 him to come and see him. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Hartsook, I ha n t forgot what we 
 said about puttin in our best licks for Jesus Christ. 
 I ve been a-trying to read some about him while I 
 set here. And I read where he said something 
 about doing fer the least of his brethren being all 
 the same like as if it was done fer Jesus Christ hi* 
 self. Now there s Shocky. I reckon, p r aps, ef 
 anybody is a little brother of Jesus Christ, it is that 
 Shocky. Pete Jones and his brother Bill is detar- 
 mined to have him back there to-morry. Bekase, 
 you see, Pete s one of the County Commissioners, 
 
ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
 and to-morry s the day that they bind out. He 
 wants to bind out that boy jes to spite ole Pearson 
 and you and me. You see, the oie woman s been 
 helped by the neighbors, and he ll claim Shocky to 
 be a pauper, and they a n t no human soul here av 
 dares to do a thing contrary to Pete. Couldn t yoi 
 git him over to Lewisburg ? I ll lend you my roaiM 
 colt." 
 
 Ralph thought a minute. He dared not take 
 Shocky to the uncle s where he found his only 
 home. But there was Miss Nancy Sawyer, the old 
 maid who was everybody s blessing. He could ask 
 her to keep him. And, at any rate, he would save 
 Shocky somehow. 
 
 As he went out in the dusk, he net Hannah m 
 the lane. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FACE TO FACE, 
 
 IN the lane, in the dark, under the shadow of th$ 
 barn, Ralp a met Hannah carrying her bucket of 
 milk (they have no pails in Indiana). 1 He could see 
 only the white foam on the milk, and Hannah s 
 white face. Perhaps it was well that he could not 
 see how white Hannah s face was at that moment 
 when a sudden trembling made her set down the 
 heavy bucket. At first neither spoke. The recol- 
 lection of all the joy of that walk together in the 
 night came upon them both. And a great sense of 
 loss made the night seem supernaturally dark to 
 Ralph. Nor was it any lighter in the hopeless heart 
 r)f the bound girl. The presence of Ralph did not 
 now, as before, make the darkness of her life light, 
 
 " Hannah " said Ralph presently, and stopped* 
 
 1 The total absence of the ^vord pail not only from the dialect, but 
 even from cultivated speeci, :r; the Southern and Border States until 
 very recently, is a fact I leave to be explained on further investiga 
 tion. The word is an old one and a good one, but I fancy that its 
 use in England could not have been generally diffused in the seven 
 teenth century. So a Hoosier or a Kentuckian never pared an apple, 
 but peeled it. Much light might be thrown on the origin and history 
 of our dialects by investigating tneir deficiencies 
 
FACE TO FACE. l8l 
 
 Kor he could not finish the sentence. With a rush 
 dtere came upon him a consciousness of the suspi 
 cions that filled Hannah s mind. And with it there 
 <a me a feeling of guilt. He saw himself from her 
 jitand-point, and felt a remorse almost as keen as it 
 could have been had he been a criminal. And this 
 sudden and morbid sense of his guilt as it appeared } 
 to Hannah paralyzed him. Bnt when Hannah lifted 
 her bucket with her hand, and the world with her 
 heavy heart, and essayed to pass him, Ralph rallied 
 and said: 
 
 " You don t believe all these lies that are told 
 about me." 
 
 "I don t believe anything, Mr. Hartsook; that 
 is, I don t want to believe anything against you. 
 And I wouldn t mind anything they say if it wasn t 
 for two things " here she stammered and looked 
 down. 
 
 " If it wasn t for what ? " said Ralph with a spice 
 of indignant denial in his voice. 
 
 Hannah hesitated, but Ralph pressed the ques 
 tion with eagerness. 
 
 " I saw you cross that blue-grass pasture the 
 night the night that you walked home with me." 
 She would have said the night of the robbery, but 
 her heart smote her, and she adopted the more 
 kindly form of the sentence. 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Ralph would have explained, but how ? 
 
 " I did cross the pasture," he began, " but * 
 
 Just here it occurred to Ralph that there was n<8 
 reason for his night excursion across the pasture. 
 Hannah again took up her bucket, but he said: 
 
 " Tell me what else you have against me." 
 
 " I haven t anything against you. Only I am 
 poor and friendless, nnd you oughtn t to make my 
 life any heavier. They say that you have paid at. 
 tention to a great many girls. I don t know why 
 you should want to trifle with me." 
 
 Ralph answered her this time. He spoke low. 
 He spoke as though he were speaking to God. " If 
 any man says that I ever trifled with any woman ? 
 he lies. I have never loved but one, and you know 
 who that is. And God knows/ 
 
 " I don t know what to say, Mr. Hartsook.* 
 Hannah s voice was broken. These solemn words 
 of love were like a river in the desert, and she was 
 like a wanderer dying of thirst. " I don t know, 
 Mr. Hartsook. If I was alone, it wouldn t matter^ 
 But I ve got my blind mother and my poor Shocky 
 to look after. And I don t want to make mistakes. 
 And the world is so full of lies I don t know what 
 to believe. Somehow I can t help believing what 
 you say. You seem to speak so true. But- * 
 
 44 But what ? " said Ralph. 
 
FACE TO FACE. 183 
 
 * But you know how I saw you just as kind to 
 Martha Hawkins on Sunday as as " 
 
 " Han ner! " It was the melodious voice of the 
 angry Mrs. Means, and Hannah lifted her pail and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Standing in the shadow of his own despair, Ralph 
 felt how dark a night could be when it had no prom 
 ise of morning. 
 
 And Dr. Small, who ha I been stabling his horse 
 just inside the barn, came out and moved quietly 
 into the house just as though he had not listened 
 intently to every word of the conversation. 
 
 As Ralph walked away he tried to comfort him- 
 setf by calling to his aid the bulldog in his charac 
 ter. Put c omehow it did not do him any good. For 
 what s L julldog but a stoic philosopher ? Stoi 
 cism has its value, but Ralph had come to a place 
 where stoicism was of no account. The memory of 
 the Helper, of his sorrow, his brave and victorious 
 endurance, came when stoicism failed. Happiness 
 might go out of life, but m the light of Christ s life 
 happiness seemed but a small element anyhow c 
 The love of woman might be denied him, but there 
 still remained what was infinitely more precious > 
 and holy, the love of God. There still remained 
 the possibility of heroic living. Working, suffering, 
 and enduring still remained* And he who can work 
 
1 84 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 for Gcd and endure for God, surely has yet the best 
 of life left. And, like the knights who could find 
 the Holy Grail only in losing themselves, Hartsook, 
 in throwing his happiness out of the count, found 
 the purest happiness, s, sense of the victory of the 
 soul over the tribulations of life. The man who 
 knows this victory scarcely needs the encourage 
 ment of the hope of future happiness. There is a 
 real heaven in bravely lit :ing the load of one s own 
 sorrow and work. 
 
 And it was a good thing for Ralph that the dan- 
 ger hanging over Shocky made immediate action 
 necessary. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GOD REMEMBERS SHOCKY, 
 
 AT four o clock the next morning, in the midst 
 of a driving snow, Ralph went timidly up the lane 
 toward the homely castle of the Meanses. He 
 went timidly, for he was afraid of Bull. But he 
 found Bud waiting for him, with the roan colt bri 
 dled and saddled. The roan colt was really a large 
 three-year-old, full of the finest sort of animal life, 
 and having, as Bud declared, " a mighty sight of hoss 
 sense fer his age." He seemed to understand at 
 once that there was something extraordinary on 
 hand when he was brought out of his comfortable 
 quarters at four in the morning in the midst of a 
 snow-storm. Bud was sure that the roan colt felt 
 his responsibility. 
 
 In the days that followed, Ralph often had occa 
 sion to remember this interview with Bud, who had 
 risked much in bringing his fractured arm out into 
 the cold, damp air. Jonathan never clave to David 1 
 more earnestly than did Bud this December & TW& 
 
 ing to Ralph. 
 
 rtf 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Hartsook," said Bud, " I wish I was 
 well myself. It s hard to set still. But it s a-doing 
 me a heap of good. I m like a boy at school. 
 And I m a-findin out that doing one s best licks fer 
 others ain t all they is of it, though it s a good part, 
 I feel like as if I must git Him, you know, to dc 
 iots for me. They s always some^sums too hard fer* 
 a feller, and he has to ax the master to do em, you 
 know. But see, the roan s a-stcmping round. He 
 wants to be off. Do you know I think that hoss 
 knows something s up ? I think he puts in his best 
 licks fer me a good deal better than I do fer Him.* 
 
 Ralph pressed Bud s right hand. Bud rubbed his 
 Cace against the colt s nose and said : " Put "n your 
 best licks, old fellow." And the colt wninnied. 
 How a horse must want to speak! For Bud was 
 iight. Men are gods to horses, and they serve 
 cheir deities with a faithfulness that shames us. 
 
 Then Ralph sprang into the saddle, and the roan, 
 as if wishing to show Bud his willingness, broke into 
 a swinging gallop, and was soon lost to the sight of 
 his master in the darkness and the snow. When 
 Bud could no more hear the sound of the roan s 
 footsteps he returned to the house, to lie awake 
 picturing to himself the journey of Ralph with 
 Shocky and the roan colt. It was a great comfort 
 #9 Bud that the roan, which was almost a part of 
 
GOD REMTEMBERS SHOCKY. 1 8? 
 
 himself, represented him in this ride. And he knew 
 the roan well enough to feel sure that he would do 
 credit to his master. " He ll put in his best licks, 5 * 
 Bud whispered to himself many a time before day 
 oreak. 
 
 The ground was but little frozen, and thp snow 
 made the roads more slippery than ever. But the 
 rough-shod roan handled his feet dexterously and 
 with a playful and somewhat self-righteous air, as 
 though he said: "Didn t I do it handsomely that 
 time?" Down slippery hills, through deep mud- 
 holes covered with a slender film ot ice he trod with 
 perfect assurance. And then up wer the rough 
 stones of Rocky Hollow, where there was no road at 
 all, he picked his way through the darkness and 
 snow. Ralph could not tell where he was at last s 
 but gave the reins to the roan, who did his duty 
 bravely, and not without a little flourish, to show 
 that he had yet plenty of spare power. 
 
 A feeble candle-ray, making the dense snow-fall 
 visible, marked for Ralph the site of the basket- 
 maker s cabin. Miss Martha had been admitted 
 to the secret, and had joined in the conspiracy 
 heartily, without being able to recall anything ot 
 the kind having occurred at the East, and not re 
 membering having seen or heard of anything of th<& 
 sort the time she was to Bosting. She hari Shock^ 
 
fl88 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 all ready, having used some of her own capes and 
 shawls to make him warm. 
 
 Miss Martha came out to meet Ralph when she 
 heard the feet of the roan before the door. 
 
 " O Mr. Hartsook! is that you ? What a storm - 
 This iz jest the way it snows at the East. Shocky s 
 all ready He didn t know a thing about it tell I 
 waked him this morning. Ever sinc^ that he s been 
 saying that God hasn t forgot, after all. It s made 
 me cry more n once." And Shocky kissed Mrs. 
 Pearson, and told her that when he got away from 
 Flat Creek he d tell God all about it, and God 
 would bring Mr. Pearson back again. And then 
 Martha Hawkins lifted the frail little form, bundled 
 In shawls, in her arms, and brought him out into the 
 storm; and before she handed him up he embraced 
 her, and said : " O Miss Hawkins! God ha n t for 
 got me, after all. Tell Hanner that He ha n t for 
 got. I m going to ask him to git her away from 
 Means s and mother out of the poor-house. I ll 
 ask him just as soon as I get to Lewisburg." 
 
 Ralph lifted the trembling form into his arms, 
 and the little fellow only looked up in the face of 
 ihe master and said: "You see, Mr. Hartsook, I 
 thought God had forgot. But he ha n t." 
 
 And the words of the little boy comforted the 
 master alsOo God had not forgotten him, either ! 
 
GOD REMEMBERS SHOCKY. 189 
 
 From the moment that Ralph took Shocky into 
 his arms, the conduct of the roan colt underwent 
 an entire revolution. Before that he had gone over 
 a bad place with a rush, as though he were ambi- 
 tious of distinguishing himself by his brilliant exe 
 cution. Now he trod none the less surely, but he 
 trod tenderly. The neck was no longer arched. 
 He set himself to his work as steadily as though he 
 were twenty years old. For miles he traveled on 
 in a long, swinging walk, putting his feet down 
 carefully and firmly. And Ralph found the spirit 
 of the colt entering into himself. He cut the snow 
 storm ,v ; th his face, and felt a sense of triumph over 
 all his Difficulties. The bulldog s jaws had been 
 his teacher, and now the steady, strong, and con 
 scientious legs of the roan inspired him. 
 
 Shocky had not spoken. He lay listening to the 
 pattering music of the horse s feet, doubtless fram 
 ing the footsteps of the roan colt into an anthem of 
 praise to the God who had not forgot. But as the 
 dawn came on, making the snow whiter, he raised 
 ,himself and said half-aloud, as he watched the flakes 
 chasing one another in whirling eddies, that the 
 snow seemed to be having a good time of it. Then 
 he leaned down again on the master s bosom, full of 
 a still joy, and only roused himself from his happy 
 reverie to ask what that big, ugly-looking house wa&, 
 
IQO THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER* 
 
 " See, Mr. Hartsook, how big it is, and how little 
 and ugly the windows is ! And the boards is peel 
 ing off all over it, and the hogs is right in the front 
 yard. It don t look just like a house. It looks 
 dreadful. What is it ? " 
 
 Ralph had dreaded this question. He did not 
 answer it, but asked Shocky to change his position 
 a little, and then he quickened the pace of the horse. 
 But Shocky was a poet, and a poet understands 
 silence more quickly than he does speech. The 
 little fellow shivered as the truth came to him. 
 
 " Is that the poor-house ? " he said, catching his 
 breath. " Is my mother in that place ? Wo^t you 
 take me in there, so as I can just kiss h^ once ? 
 Cause she can t see much, you know. And one 
 kiss from me will make her feel so good. And I ll 
 tell her that God ha n t forgot." He had raised 
 up and caught hold of Ralph s coat. 
 
 Ralph had great difficulty in quieting him. He 
 told him that if he went in there Bill Jones might 
 claim that he was a runaway and belonged there. 
 And poor Shocky only shivered and said he was 
 cold. A minute later, Ralph found that he was 
 shaking with a chill, and a horrible dread came 
 over him. What if Shocky should die? It was 
 only a minute s work to get down, take the warm 
 "borse-blanket from under the saddle, and wrap it 
 
GOD REMEMBERS SHOCKY. Ipl 
 
 about the boy, then to strip off his cwn overcoat 
 and add that to it. It was now daylight, and find 
 ing, after he had mounted, that Shocky continued 
 to shiver, he put the roan to his best speed for the 
 rest of the way, trotting up and down the slippery 
 hills, and galloping away on the level gi onnd. How 
 bravely the roan laid himself to his work, making 
 the fence-corners fly past in a long procession, 1 ! 
 But poor little Shock} was too cold to notice them, 
 and Ralph shuddered lest Shock/ should never be 
 warm again, and i^>oke to the roai , and the roan 
 stretched out his head, and droppt J one ea,i back 
 to hear the first word of command, and stretched 
 the other forward to listen tor dange and their 
 flew with a splendid speed down thj road, past the 
 patches of blackberry briars, past the elderberry 
 bushes, past the familiar red-he w tree ii t^e fence 
 corner, over the bridge without regard to the threat 
 of a five-dollar fine, and at last up the long lane 
 into the village, where the smoke from the chimney? 1 
 was caught and whirled round with the snow. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 > 
 
 MISS NANCY SAWYER. 
 
 IN a little old cottage in Lewisburg, on one oi 
 the streets which was never traveled except by a 
 solitary cow seeking pasture or a countryman 
 bringing wood to some one of the half-dozen fami 
 lies living in it, and which in summer was decked 
 with a profusion of the yellow and white blossoms 
 of the dog-fennelin this unfrequented street, so 
 generously and unnecessarily broad, lived Miss 
 Nancy Sawyer and her younger sister Semantha. 
 Miss Nancy was a providence, one of those old 
 maids that are benedictions to the whole town: 
 one of those in whom the mother-love, wanting 
 the natural objects on which to spend itself, over 
 flows all bounds and lavishes itself on every needy 
 thing, and grows richer and more abundant with 
 the spending, a fountain of inexhaustible blessing, 
 There is no nobler life possible to any one than to 
 an unmarried woman. The more shame that some 
 choose a selfish one, and thus turn to gall all the 
 affection with which they are endowed. Ms? 
 
 IQ2 
 
MISS NANCY SAWYER, 
 
 Nancy Sawyer had been Ralph s Sunday-school 
 teacher, and it was precious little, so far as infor 
 mation went, that he learned from her ; fojrjshe 
 never couldjconceive-ol Jerusalem as a place in any 
 essential regard very different from Lewisburg, 
 Where she had spent her life. But Ralph learned 
 from her what most Sunday-school teachers fail to 
 teach, the great lesson of Christianity, by the side 
 of which all antiquities and geographies and chro= 
 nologies and exegetics and other niceties are as 
 nothing. 
 
 And now he turned the kead of the roan toward 
 tfce cottage of Miss Nancy Sawyer as naturally as 
 the roan would have gone to his own stall ii? the 
 *tab**e at home. The snow had gradually ceased 
 to full, and was eddying round the house, when 
 Ralph dismounted from his foaming horse, and, 
 carrying the still form of Shocky as reverently as 
 though it had been something heavenly, knocked 
 at Miss Nancy Sawyer s door. 
 
 With natural feminine instinct that lady started 
 back when she sa;v Hartsook, for she had just built 
 a fire in the stove, and she now stood at the doo 
 with unwashed face and uncombed hair. 
 
 " Why, Ralph Hartsook, where did you drop 
 
 from and what have you got?" 
 2 **ame from Flat Creek this morning and If 
 
 K.9 
 
194 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTERo 
 
 brought you a little angel who has got out of 
 heaven, and needs some of your motherly care." 
 
 Shocky was brought in. The chill shook him 
 now by fits only, for a fever had spotted his cheeks 
 already. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Miss Nancy, as she un 
 wrapped him. 
 
 " I m Shocky, a little boy as God forgot, and Sheit 
 thought of again." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 PANCAKES. 
 
 HALF an hour later, Ralph, having seen Mi&s 
 Nancy Sawyer s machinery of warm baths and 
 simple remedies safely in operation, and having 
 seen the roan colt comfortably stabled, and re 
 warded for his faithfulness by a bountiful supply 
 of the best hay and the promise of oats when he 
 was cool half an hour later Ralph was doing the 
 most ample, satisfactory, and amazing justice to his 
 Aunt Matilda s hot buckwheat-cakes and warm 
 coffee. And after his life in Flat Creek, Aunt Ma 
 tilda s house did look like paradise. How white 
 the table-cloth, how bright the coffee-pot, how clean 
 the wood-work, how glistening the brass door-knobs, 
 how spotless everything that came under the sov 
 ereign sway of Mrs. Matilda White ! For m every 
 Indiana village as large as Lewisburg, there are 
 generally a half-dozen women who are admitted tty 
 be the best housekeepers. All others are only imi 
 tators. And the strife is between these for the 
 pre eminence. It is at least safe to say that no 
 other in Lewisburg stood so high as an enemy to 
 
THE HOOSIEP SCHOOL-MASTER 
 
 dirt, and as a " rat, roach, and mouse extermina* 
 tor," as did Mrs. Matilda White, the wife of Ralph s 
 maternal uncle, Robert White, Esq., a lawyer in 
 successful practice. Of course no member of Mrs. 
 White s family ever stayed at home longer than was 
 necessary. Her husband found his office which 
 he kept in as bad a state as possible in order to 
 maintain an equilibrium in his life much more 
 comfortable than the stiffly clean house at home 
 From the time that Ralph had come to live as a 
 chore-boy at his uncle s, he had ever crossed the 
 threshold of Aunt Matilda s temple of cleanliness 
 with a horrible sense of awe. And Walter John* 
 son, her son by a former marriage, had poor, weak- 
 willed fellow ! been driven into bad company and 
 bad habits by the wretchedness of extreme civiliza 
 tion. And yet he showed the hereditary trait, for 
 all the genius which Mrs. White consecrated to the 
 glorious work of making her house too neat to be 
 habitable, her son Walter gave to tying exquisite 
 knots in his colored cravats and combing his oiled 
 locks so as to look like a dandy barber. And she 
 had no other children. The kind Providence that 
 watches over the destiny of children takes care that 
 very few of them are lodged in these terribly clean 
 houses. 
 
 But Walter was not at the table, and Ralph had 
 
PANCAKES. 197 
 
 so much anxiety lest his absence should be sig 
 nificant of evil, that he did not venture to inquire 
 after him as he sat there between Mr. and Mrs. 
 White disposing of Aunt Matilda s cakes with an 
 appetite only justified by his long morning s ride 
 and the excellence of the brown cakes, the golden 
 honrey, and the coffee, enriched, as Aunt Matilda s 
 always was, with the most generous cream. Aunt 
 Matilda was so absorbed in telling of the doings 
 of the Dorcas Society that she entirely forgot to be 
 surprised at the early hour of Ralph s arrival. 
 When she had described the number of the gar 
 ments finished to be sent to the Five Points Mis 
 sion, or the Home for the Friendless, or the South 
 Sea Islands, I forget which, Ralph thought he saw 
 his chance, while Aunt Matilda was in a benevo 
 lent mood, to broach a plan he had been revolving 
 for some time. But when he looked at Aunt Ma 
 tilda s immaculate horribly immaculate house 
 keeping, his heart failed him, and he would have 
 said nothing had she not inadvertently opened the 
 door herself. 
 
 "How did you get here so early, Ralph?" and 
 Aunt Matilda s face was shadowed with a coming 
 rebuke. 
 
 " By early rising," said Ralph. But, seeing the 
 gathering frown on his aunt s brow, he hastened t 
 
IQ8 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTERo 
 
 tell the story of Shocky as well as he could. Mrs. 
 White did not give way to any impulse toward 
 sympathy until she learned that Shocky was safely 
 housed with Miss Nancy Sawyer. 
 
 "Yes, Sister Sawyer has no family cares, she 
 said by way of smoothing her slightly ruffled com 
 placency, " she has no family cares, and she can do 
 those things. Sometimes I think she lets people 
 impose on her and keep her away from the means 
 of grace, and I spoke to our new preacher about it 
 the last time he was here, and asked him to speak 
 to Sister Sawyer about staying away from the ordi 
 nances to wait on everybody, but he is a queer 
 man, and he only said that he supposed Sister 
 Sawyer neglected the inferior ordinances that she 
 might attend to higher ones. But I don t see any 
 sense in a minister of the gospel calling prayer- 
 meeting a lower ordinance than feeding catnip-tea 
 to Mrs. Brown s last baby. But hasn t this little 
 boy Shocking, or what do you call him? got any 
 *mother?" 
 
 * Yes," said Ralph, " and that was just what I was 
 going to say. * And he proceeded to tell how anx 
 ious Shocky was to see his half-blind mother, and 
 actually ventured to wind up his remarks by sug 
 gesting that Shocky s mother be invited to stay 
 over Sunday in Aunt Matilda s house 
 
PANCAKES. 299 
 
 64 Bless my stars ! " said that astounded saint, 
 66 fetch a pauper here ? What crazy notions you 
 have got! Fetch her here out of the poor-house? 
 
 Why, she wouldn t be fit to sleep in my -" here 
 
 Aunt Matilda choked. The bare thought of hav^ 
 ing a pauper in her billowy beds, whose snowV 
 whiteness was frightful to any ordinary mortal, the 
 bare thought of the contagion of the poor-house 
 taking possession of one ct her beds, smothered 
 her. " And then you know sore eyes are very 
 catching." 
 
 Ralph boiled a little. "Aunt Matilda, do you 
 think Dorcas was afraid of sore eyes ? " 
 
 It was a center shot, and the lawyer-uncle, 
 lawyerlike, enjoyed a good hit. And he enjoyed a 
 good hit at his wife best of all, for he never ven 
 tured on one himself. But Aunt Matilda felt that 
 a direct reply was impossible. She was not a law 
 yer but a woman, and so dodged the question by 
 making a counter-charge. 
 
 " It seems to me, Ralph, that you have picked up 
 some very low associates. And you go around at 
 night, I am told. You get over here by daylight, 
 and I hear that you have made common cause with 
 a lame soldier who acts as a spy for thieves, and 
 that your running about of night is likely to get 
 you into troubleo " 
 
2OO THE HOOSIER SCHOOLMASTER, 
 
 Ralph was hit this time. * I suppose," he said, 
 "that you ve been listening to some of Henry 
 Small s lies." 
 
 " Why, Ralph, how you talk ! The worst sign ofr 
 all is that you abuse such a young man as Dr 
 Small, the most exemplary Christian young man in 
 the county. And he is a great friend of yours, for 
 when he was here last week he did not say a word 
 against you, but looked so sorry when your being 
 in trouble was mentioned. Didn t he, Mr. White ? " 
 
 Mr. White, as in duty bound, said yes, but he 
 said yes in a cool, lawyerlike way, which showed 
 that he did not take quite so much stock in Dr. 
 Small as his wife did. This was a comfort to 
 Ralph, who sat picturing to himself the silent flat 
 tery which Dr. Small s eyes paid to his Aunt Ma 
 tilda, and the quiet expression of pain that would 
 flit across his face when Ralph s name was men 
 tioned. And never until that moment had Hartsook 
 understood how masterful Small s artifices were. 
 He had managed to elevate himself in Mrs. White s 
 estimation and to destroy Ralph at the same time, 
 and had managed to do both by a contraction of 
 the eyebrows! 
 
 But the silence was growing painful and Ralph 
 thought to break it and turn the current of talk 
 from himself by asking after Mrs. White s 
 
PANCAKES. 2GI 
 
 Where is Walter?" 
 
 "Oh! Walter s doing well. He went down to 
 Clifty three weeks ago to study medicine with Henry 
 Small. He seems so fond of the doctor, and the 
 doctor is such an excellent man, you know, and I 
 have strong hopes that Wallie will be led to see the 
 ferror of his ways by his association with Henry. 
 I suppose he would have gone to see you but for 
 the unfavorable reports that he heard. I hope, 
 Ralph, you too will make the friendship of Dr. 
 Small. And for the sake of your poor, dead moth 
 er" here Aunt Matilda endeavored to <how 
 some emotion " for the sake of your poor dead 
 mother " 
 
 But Ralph heard no more. The buckwheat-cakes 
 had lost their flavor. He remembered that the 
 colt had not yet had his oats, and so, in the very 
 midst of Aunt Matilda s affectmg allusion to his 
 mother, like a stiff-necked reprobate that he was, 
 Ralph Hartsook rose abruptly from the table, put 
 on his hat, and went out toward the stable. 
 
 " I declare," said Mrs. White, descending suddenly 
 >from her high moral stand-point, " I declare that 
 iboy has stepped right on the threshold of the back 
 door," and she stuffed her white handkerchief into 
 her pocket, and took down the floor-cloth to wipe 
 off the imperceptible blemish left by Ralph s boot* 
 
2O2 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 heels. And Mr. White followed his nephew to the 
 stable to request that he would be a little careful 
 what he did about anybody in the poor-house, as 
 any trouble with the Joneses might defeat Mr, 
 White s nomfnation to the judgeship of the Courf 
 *f Common Fleas. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 
 
 WHEN Ralph got back to Miss Nancy Sawyer s, 
 Shocky was sitting up in bed talking to Miss Nancy 
 and Miss Semantha. His cheeks were a little flushed 
 with fever and the excitement of telling his story; 
 theirs were wet with tears. " Ralph," whispered 
 Miss Nancy, as she drew him into the kitchen, " I 
 want you to get a buggy or a sleigh, and go right 
 over to the poor-house and fetch that boy s mother 
 over here. It ll do me more good than any sermon 
 I ever heard to see that boy in his mother s arms to 
 morrow. We can keep the old lady over Sunday/" 
 
 Ralph was delighted, so delighted that he came 
 near kissing good Miss Nancy Sawyer, whose plain 
 
 face was glorified by her generosity. 
 v : - . 
 
 But he did not go to the poor-house immediately* 
 
 He waited until he saw Bill Jones, the Superinten 
 dent of the Poor-House, and Pete Jones, the County 
 Commissioner, who was still somewhat shuck up, 
 ride up to the court-house. Then he drove out of 
 the village, and presently hitched his horse to the 
 poor-house fence, and took a survey of the outside, 
 
 fel 
 
204 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL- MASTER. 
 
 Forty hogs, nearly ready for slaughter, wallowed 
 in a pen in front of the forlorn and dilapidated 
 house; for thaugh the commissioners allowed a 
 claim for repairs at every meeting, the repairs were 
 never made, and it would not do to scrutinize Mr 
 Jones s bills too closely, unless you gave up all hope 
 of renomination to office. One curious effect of 
 political aspirations in Hoopole County, was to 
 shut the eyes that they could not see, to close the 
 ears that they could not hear, and to destroy the 
 sense of smell. But Ralph, not being a politician,, 
 smelled the hog-pen without and the stench within, 
 and saw everywhere the transparent fraud, and 
 heard the echo of Jones s cruelty. 
 
 A weak-eyed girl admitted him, and as he did not 
 wish to make his business knowv> at once, he affected 
 a sort of idle interest in the place, and asked to 
 be allowed to look round. The weak-eyed girl 
 watched him. He found that all the women with 
 children, twenty persons in all, were obliged to sleep 
 in one room, which, owing to the hill-slope, was j 
 partly under ground, and which had but half a win. 
 dow for light, and no ventilation, except the chance, 
 draft from the door. Jones had declared that the 
 women with children must stay there " he warn t 
 goin f to have brats a-runnin over the whole house." 
 Here were vicious women and good women, with 
 
A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 2O5 
 
 their children, crowded like chickens in a coop for 
 market. And there were, as usual in such places, 
 helpless, idiotic women with illegitimate children. 
 Of course this room was the scene of perpetual quar 
 reling and occasional fighting. 
 
 In the quarters devoted to the insane, people 
 , slightly demented and raving maniacs were in the 
 same rooms, while there were also those utter 
 wrecks which sat in heaps on the floor, mumbling 
 and muttering unintelligible words,, the whole cur 
 rent of their thoughts hopelessly muddled, turning 
 around upon itself in eddies never ending. 
 
 " That air woman," said the weak-eyed girl, " used 
 to holler a heap when she was brought in here. 
 But Pap knows how to subjue CHI. He slapped 
 her in the mouth every time she hollered. She 
 don t make no furss now, but jist sets down that 
 way all day, and keeps a-whisperinV 
 
 Ralph understood it. When she came in she was 
 the victim of mania ; but she had been beaten into 
 rliopeless idiocy Indeed this state of incurable im 
 i>ecility seemed the end toward which all traveled, 
 /Shut in these bare rooms, with no treatment, no 
 exercise, no variety, and meager food, cases of 
 slight derangement soon grew into chronic lunacy., 
 
 One young woman, called Phil, a sweet-faced 
 person, apparently a farmer s wife, came up to 
 
206 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 Ralph and looked at him kindly, playing with thi 
 buttons on his coat in a childlike simplicity. Her 
 blue-drilling dress was sewed all over with patches 
 of white, representing ornamental buttons. The 
 womanly instinct toward adornment had in her 
 iaken this childish turn. 
 
 " Don t you think they ought to let me go home ? *N 
 she said with a sweetness and a wistful, longing, 
 home-sick look, that touched Ralph to the heart. 
 He looked at her, and then at the muttering crones, 
 and he could see no hope of any better fate for her. 
 She followed him round the barn-like re oms, re 
 turning every now and then to her question, " Don t 
 you think I might go home now ? " 
 
 The weak-eyed girl had been called away for a 
 moment, and Ralph stood looking into a cell, 
 where there was a man with a gay red plume in his 
 hat and a strip of red flannel about his waist. He 
 strutted up and down like a drill-sergeant. 
 
 " I am General Andrew Jackson," he began. 
 " People don t believe it, but I am. I had my head 
 shot off at Bueny Visty, and the new one thatS 
 growed on isn t nigh so good as the old one ; it s 
 tater on one side. 1 That s why they take advantage 
 
 3 Some time after this book appeared Dr. Brown-Sequard announced 
 his theory of the dual brain. A writer in an English magazine called 
 Attention to the fact that the discovery had been anticipated by an 
 
A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION, 2O? 
 
 of me to shut me up. But I know some things. 
 My head is tater on one side, but it s all right on 
 t other. And when I know a thing in the left side 
 of my head, I know it. Lean down here. Let me 
 tell you something out of the left side. Not out of 
 the tater side, mind ye. I wouldn t a told you if 
 he hadn t locked me up fer nothing. Bill Jones is 
 a thief ! He sells the bodies of the dead paupers, 
 and then sells the empty coffins back to the county 
 agin. But that a n t all " 
 
 Just then the weak-eyed girl came back, and, as 
 Ralph moved away, General Jackson called out? 
 "That a n t all. I ll tell the rest another time. 
 And that a n t out of the tater side, you can de 
 pend on that. That s out of the left side. Sound 
 as a nut on that side! " 
 
 But Ralph began to wonder where he should 
 find Hannah s mother. 
 
 " Don t go in there," cried the weak-eyed girl, as 
 Ralph was opening a door. " Ole Mowley s in 
 there, and she ll cuss you." 
 
 Gh! well, if that s all, her curses won t hurt,* 
 
 imaginative writer, and cited the passage in the text as proving that 
 the author of " The Hoosier School -Master " had outran Dr. Brown* 
 Sequard in perceiving the duality of the brain. It is a matter for 
 surprise that an author, even an "imaginative" one, should have 
 made so great a discovery without suspecting its meaning until it waff 
 bv some one else. 
 
208 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 said Hartsook, pushing open the door. But the vol 
 ley of blasphemy and vile language that he received 
 made him stagger. The old hag paced the floor, 
 abusing everybody that came in her way. And by 
 the window, in the same room, feeling the light 
 that struggled through the dusty glass upon her 
 face, sat a sorrowful, intelligent Englishwoman. 
 Ralph noticed at once that she was English, and 
 in a few moments he discovered that her sight was 
 defective. Could it be that Hannah s mother was 
 the room-mate of this loathsome creature, whose 
 profanity and obscenity did not intermit for a 
 moment ? 
 
 Happily the weak-eyed girl had not dared to 
 brave the curses of Mowley. Ralph stepped for 
 ward to the woman by the window, and greeted 
 her. 
 
 "Is this Mrs. Thomson?" 
 
 "That is my name, sir, * she said, turning her 
 face toward Ralph, who could not but remark the 
 contrast between the thorough refinement of her 
 manner and her coarse, scant, unshaped paupe^ 
 frock of blue drilling. 
 
 " I saw your daughter yesterday.* 
 
 " Did you see my boy ? " 
 
 There was a tremulousness in her voice and an 
 agitation in her manner which disclosed the emo 
 
A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 2Og 
 
 tion she strove in vain to conceal. For only the 
 day before Bill Jones had informed her that Shocky 
 would be bound out on Saturday, and that slie 
 would find that goin agin him warn t a payin busi 
 ness, so much as some others he mout mention. 
 
 Ralph told her about Shocky s safety. I shall 
 not write down the conversation here. Critics 
 would say that it was an overwrought scene. As 
 if all the world were as cald as they! All I can 
 tell is that this refined woman had all she could do 
 to control herself in her easrerness to get out of her 
 prison-house, away from the blasphemies of Mowley, 
 away from the insults of Jones, away from the 
 sights and sounds and smells of the place, and, 
 above all, her eagerness to fly to the little shocky- 
 head from whora she had been banished for two 
 years. It seemed to her that she could gladly die 
 now, if ste could die with that flaxen head upon 
 her bosom. 
 
 And so, in sptte of the opposition of Bill Jones s 
 son, who threatened her with every sort of evil if 
 she left, Ralph wrapped Mrs. Thomson s blue drill 
 ing in Nancy Sawyer s shawl, and bore the feeble 
 woman off to Lewisburg. And as they drove away, 
 a sad, childlike voice cried from the gratings of the 
 upper window, " Good -by ! good-by ! " Ralph 
 turned and saw that it was Phil, poor Phil, fot 
 
210 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 whom there was no deliverance. 1 And all the way 
 back Ralph pronounced mental maledictions on the 
 Dorcas Society, not for sending garments to the 
 Five Points or the South Sea Islands, whichever it 
 was, but for being so blind to the sorrow and pov 
 erty within its reach. He did not know, for he had 
 not read the reports of the Boards of State Chari 
 ties, that nearly all alms-houses are very much like 
 this, and that the State of New York is not better 
 in this regard than Indiana. And he did not know 
 that it is true in almost all other counties, as it was 
 in his own, that " Christian " people do not think 
 enough of Christ to look for him in these lazar- 
 houses. 
 
 And while Ralph denounced the Dorcas Society, 
 the eager, hungry heart of the mother ran, flew 
 toward the little white-headed boy. 
 
 No, I can not do it ; I can not tell you about that 
 meeting. I am sure that Miss Nancy Sawyer s tea 
 tasted exceedingly good to the pauper, who had 
 known nothing but cold water for years, and that 
 the bread and butter were delicious to a palate that 
 
 1 The reader may be interested to know that * Phil " was drawn 
 from the Itfe, as was old Mowley and in part 4< General Jackson " 
 also. Between 1867 and 1670, I visited many jails and poor-houses 
 with philanthropic purpose, publishing the results of my examination 
 in some cases im The Chicago Tribune. Some of the abuses pointed 
 out were reformed, others linger till tfois day, I believe. 
 
A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 21 3 
 
 had eaten poor-house soup for dinner, and coarse 
 poor-house bread and vile molasses for supper, and 
 that without change for three years. But I can 
 not tell you how it seemed that evening to Miss 
 Nancy Sawyer, as the poor English lady sat in i 
 Speechless ecstacy,rocking in the old splint-bottomed,? 
 rocking-chair in the fire-light, while she pressed to" 
 her bosom with all the might of her enfeebled arms, 
 the form of the little Shocky, who half-sobbed and 
 half-sang, over and over again, " God ha n t forgot 
 is, mother ; God! J?a. r ft*l forgot us/* 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 
 
 fHE Methodist church to which Mrs. Matilda 
 White and Miss Nancy Sawyer belonged was the 
 leading one in Lewisburg, as it was in most county- 
 seat villages in Indiana. If I may be permitted to 
 express my candid and charitable opinion of the 
 difference between the two women, I shall have to 
 use the old Quaker locution, and s-ay that Miss 
 Sawyer was a Methodist and likewise a Christian ; 
 Mrs. White was a Methodist, but I fear she was not 
 likewise. 
 
 As to the first part of this assertion, there was 
 no room to doubt Miss Nancy s piety. She could 
 get happy in class-meeting (for who had a better 
 right ?), and could witness a good experience in the 
 quarterly love-feast. But it is not upon these 
 grounds that I base my opinion of Miss Nancy. 
 Do not even the Pharisees the same ? She never 
 dreamed that she had any right to speak of " Chris 
 tian Perfection " (which, as Mrs. Partington said of 
 total depravity, is an excellent doctrne if it is lived 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 213 
 
 lip to) ; but when a woman s heart is full of devout 
 affections and good purposes, when her head devises 
 liberal and Christlike things, when her hands are 
 always open to the poor and always busy with acts 
 2>f love and self-denial, and when her feet are evei 
 eager to run upon errands of mercy, why, if there 
 be anything worthy of being calkd Christian Per- 
 fection in this world of imperfection, I do not know 
 why such an one does not possess it. What need 
 of analyzing her experiences in vacua to find out the 
 state of her soul ? 
 
 How Miss Nancy managed to live on her slender 
 income and be so generous was a perpetual source 
 of perplexity to the gossips of Lewisburg. And 
 now that she declared that Mrs. Thomson and 
 Shocky should not return to the poor-house there 
 was a ge serai outcry from the whole Committee of 
 Inter meddlers that she would bring herself to the 
 poor-house before she died. But Nancy Sawyer 
 was the richest woman in Lewisburg, though nc 
 body knew it, and though she herself did not once 
 suspect it. 
 
 How Miss Nancy and the preacher conspired to 
 gether, and how they managed to bring Mrs. Thorn- 
 son s ease up at the time of the " Sacramental Ser 
 vice >v in the afternoon of that Sunday in Lewisburg, 
 mnd how the preacher made a touching statement; 
 
314 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 of it just before the regular " Collection for the 
 Poor " was taken, and how the warm-hearted 
 Methodists put m dollars instead of dimes while the 
 Presiding Elder read those passages about Zaccheus 
 and other liberal people, and how the congregation 
 sang 
 
 " He dies, the Friend of sinners dies " 
 
 more lustily than ever, after having performed this 
 Christian act how all this happened I can not take 
 up the reader s time to tell. But I can assure him 
 that the nearly blind English woman did not room 
 with blasphemous old Mow4ey any more, and that 
 the blue-drilling pauper frock gave way to some 
 thing better, and that grave little Shocky even 
 danced with delight, and declared that God hadn t 
 forgot, though he d thought that He had. And 
 Mrs. Matilda White remarked that it was a shame 
 that the collection for the poor at a Methodist sac 
 ramental service should be given to a woman who 
 was a member of the Church of England, and like 
 as not never souiKlly converted ! 
 
 And Shocky slept in his mother s arms and prayed 
 God not to forget Hanrrah, while Shocky s mothef 
 knit stockings for tne store day and night, and day 
 nnd night she prayed and hoped. 
 
CHAPTER XXV, 
 
 BTO WOOING. 
 
 THE Sunday that Ralph spent in Lewfsburg, tlif 
 Sunday that Shocky spent in an earthly paradise 
 the Sunday that Mrs. Thomson spent with Shocky 
 instead of old Mowley, the Sunday that Miss Nancy 
 thought was " just like heaven, * was also an event 
 ful Sunday with Bud Means. He had long adored 
 Miss Martha in his secret heart, but, like many other 
 giants, while^ brave enough to face and fight drag- 
 qnsjjie was a coward in the presence of the woman 
 that he loved. Let us honor him for it. The man 
 who loves a woman truly, reverences her profoundly 
 and feels abashed in her presence. The man who 
 is never abashed in the presence of womanhood, the 
 man who tells his love without a tremor, is a 
 shallow egotist. Bud s nature was not fine. But 
 it was deep, true, and manly. To him Marffoa, 
 Hawkins was the chief of women. What was he^ 
 that he should aspire to possess her? And yet oi 
 that Sunday, with his crippled arm carefully bound 
 up, with his cleanest shirt, and with his heavy boots 
 
2l6 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-M ASTER. 
 
 freshly oiled with the fat of the raccoon, he started 
 hopefully through fields white with snow to the 
 house of Squire Hawkins. When he started his 
 spirits were high, but they descended exactly in 
 proportion to his proximity to the object of his 
 love. He thought himself not dressed well enough 
 He wished his shoulders were not so square, and 
 his arms not so stout. He wished that he had book- 
 larnin enough to court in nice, big words. And 
 so, by recounting his own deficiencies, he succeeded 
 in making himself feel weak, and awkward, and 
 generally good-for-nothing, by the time he walked 
 up between the rows of dead hollyhocks to the 
 Squire s front door, to tap at which took all his re 
 maining strength. 
 
 Miss Martha received hei perspiring lover most 
 graciously, but this only convirM:ed Bud more than 
 ever that she was a superior being. If she had 
 slighted him a bit, so as to awaken his combative* 
 ness, his bashfulness might have disappeared. 
 
 It was in vain that Martha inquired about his 
 arm and complimented his courage. Bud could 
 only think of his big feet, his clumsy hands, and his 
 slow tongue. He answered in monosyllables; using 
 his red silk handkerchief diligently. 
 
 " Is your arm improving ? " asked Miss Hawkins. 
 
 "Yes, I think it is," said Bud, hastily crossing fas 
 
BUD WOOING. 217 
 
 right leg over his left, and trying to get his fists out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Have you heard from Mr. Pearson ? " 
 
 " No, I ha n t," answered Bud, removing his right 
 -foot to the floor again, because it looked so big, and 
 trying to push his left hand into his pocket. 
 
 " Beautiful sunshine, isn t it ? " said Martha. 
 
 " Yes, tis," answered Bud, sticking his right foot 
 up on the rung of the chair and putting his right 
 hand behind him. 
 
 " This saow looks like the snow we have at the 
 East," said Marfeha. " It snowed that way the time 
 I was to Bosting." 
 
 " Did it ? " said Bud, not thinking of the snow at 
 all nor erf Boston, but thinking how much better he 
 would have appeared had he left his arms and leg* 
 at home. 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Hartsook rode your horse t& 
 Lewisburg ? " 
 
 " Yes, he did ; " and Bud hung both hands at is 
 side. 
 
 " You were very kind." 
 
 This set Bud s heart a-going so that he could not 
 say anything, but he looked eloquently at Miss 
 Hawkins, drew both feet under the chair, and 
 rammed his hands into his pockets. Then > sud 
 denly remembering how awkward he must look, he 
 
218 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 immediately pulled his hands out again, and crossed 
 his legs. There was a sil-ence of a few minutes, 
 during which Bud made up his mind to do the most 
 desperate thing he could think of to declare his 
 iove and take the consequences. 
 
 "You see, Miss Hawkins," he began, forgetting^ 
 boots and fists in his agony, " I thought as how I d* 
 come over here to-day, and" but here his heart 
 failed him utterly " and see you." 
 
 " I m glad to see you, Mr. Means." 
 
 " And I thought I d tell you " Martha was sure 
 it was coming no .v, for Bud was in dead earnest 
 " and I thought I d just like to tell you, ef I only 
 know d jest how to tell it right" here Bud got 
 frightened, and did not dare close the sentence as 
 he had intended " I thought as how you might like 
 to know or ruther I wanted to tell you that the 
 that I that we all of us think that I that 
 we are going to have a spelKn -school a Chewsday 
 night." 
 
 " I m real glad to hear it," said the bland but dis 
 appointed Martha. "We used to have spelling 
 schools at the East." But Miss Martha could not 
 remember that they had them " to Bosting." 
 
 Hard as it is for a bashful man to talk, it is still 
 more difficult for him to close the conversation. 
 Most men like to leave a favorable impression, and 
 
BUD WOOING. 
 
 & bashful man is always waiting witk the forlorn 
 hope that some favorable turn in the talk may let 
 him out without absolute discomfiture. And SO 
 Bud stayed a long time, and how he *ve> did gfifc 
 he never could telL 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES,, 
 
 HAUKINS 
 
 " this is too Lett u no that u beter be 
 Keerful hoo yoo an yore familly tacks cides with 
 er peepl wont Stan it too hev the Men wat s 
 sportin the wuns wat s robin us, sported bi yor 
 Pokes kepin kumpne with em, u been a ossifer ov 
 the Lau, yor Ha wil bern as qick as to an yor Barn 
 tu. so Tak kere. No mor ad pressnt." 
 
 This letter accompEshed its purpose. The Squire s 
 spectacles slipped off several times while he read it. 
 His wig had to be adjusted. If he had been threat 
 ened personally he would not have minded it so 
 much. But the hay-stacks were dearer to him than/ 
 the apple of his glass eye. The barn was more 
 precious than his wig. And those who hoped to 
 touch Bud in a tender place through this letter 
 knew the Squire s weakness far better than they 
 knew the spelling-book. To see his new red barn 
 with its large " Mormon " hay-press inside, and the 
 
A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES, 228 
 
 mounted Indian on the vane, consumed, was toe 
 much for th Hawkins heart to stand. Evidently 
 the danger was on the side of his niece. But how 
 should he influence Martha to give up Bud ? Martha 
 did not value the hay-stacks half so highly as she 
 did her lover. Martha did not think the new red 
 barn, with the great Mormon press incide and the 
 galloping Indian on the vane, worth half so much 
 as a moral principle or a kind-hearted action^ 
 Martha, bless her! would have sacrificed anything 
 rather than forsake the poor. But Squire Haw 
 kins s lips shut tight over his false teeth in a way 
 that suggested astringent purse-strings, and Squire 
 Hawkins could not sleep at night if the new red 
 barn, with the galloping Indian on the vane, were 
 in danger. Martha must be reached somehow. 
 
 So, with many adjustings of that most adjustable 
 wig, with many turnings of that reversible glass eye, 
 the Squire managed to frighten Martha by the inti 
 mation that he had been threatened, and to make 
 her understand, what it cost her much to under 
 stand, that she must turn the cold shoulder tc 
 chivalrous, awkward Bud, whom she loved most 
 tenderly, partly, perhaps, because he did not re 
 mind her of anybody she had ever known at the 
 East. 
 
 Tuesday evening was the fatal time. Spelling 
 
222 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 school was the fatal occasion. Bud was the victim. 
 Pete Jones had his revenge. For Bud had been all 
 the evening trying to muster courage enough to 
 offer himself as Martha s escort. He was not en 
 couraged by the fact that he had spelled even worse 
 than usual, while Martha had distinguished herseli 
 by holding her ground against Jeems Phillips tor 
 half an hour. But he screwed his courage to the 
 sticking place, not by quoting to himself the adage, 
 * Faint heart never won fair lady," which, indeed, 
 he had never heard, but by reminding himself thiit 
 " ef you don t resk nothin you ll never git nothin ." 
 So, when the spelling-school had adjourned, he 
 sidled up to her, and, looking dreadfully solemn and 
 a little foolish, he said : 
 
 " Kin I see you safe home ? " 
 
 And she, with a feeling that her uncle s life was 
 in danger, and chat his salvation depended upon 
 her resolution she, with a feeling that she was 
 pronouncing sentence of death on her own great 
 hope, answered huskily: 
 
 " No, I thank you." 
 
 If she had only known that it was the red barn] 
 with the Indian on top that was in dang, r, shei 
 would probably have let the galloping brave take 
 care of himself. 
 
 It seemed to Bud, as he walked home mortihed v 
 
A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 223 
 
 , disappointed, hopeless, that all the world 
 had gone down in a whir Ipool of despair. 
 
 " Might a knowed it," he said to himself. " Of 
 course, a smart gal like M artha a n t ajoin to take 
 a big, blunderin fool that can t spell in two sylla 
 bles. What s the use of tryin ? A Flat Cricker it 
 a Flat Cricker. You can t make nothin else out 
 Of him, no more nor you can make a Quay hog ?nto 
 Berkshire.** 
 

 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A LOSS AND A GAIN. 
 
 0R. SMALL, silent, attentive, assiduous Dr. Smal 
 set himself to work to bind up the wounded hear 
 of Bud Means, even as he had bound up his broken 
 arm. The flattery of his fine eyes, which looked at 
 Bud s muscles so admiringly, which gave attention 
 to his lightest remark, was not lost on the young 
 Fiat Creek Hercules. Outwardly at least Pete 
 Jor.es showed no inclination to revenge himself on 
 Bud. Was it respect for muscle, or was it the in 
 fimence of Small ? At any rate, the concentrated 
 extract of the resentment of Pete Jones and his 
 clique was now ready to empty itself upon the head 
 of Hartsook. And Ralph found himself in his dire 
 extremity without even the support of Bud, whose 
 good resolutions seemed to give way all at once 
 There have been many men of culture and mo- 
 favorable surroundings who have thrown themselves 
 away with less provocation. As it was, Bud quit 
 school, avoided Ralph, and seemed more than ever 
 under the influence of Dr. Small, besides becoming 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 
 
 the intimate of Walter Johnson, Small s student and 
 Mrs. Matilda White s son. They made a strange 
 pair Bud with his firm jaw and silent, cautious 
 manner, and Walter Johnson with his weak chin, 
 his nice neck-ties, and general dandy appearance. 
 
 To be thus deserted in his darkest hour by his 
 only friend was the bitterest ingredient in Ralph s 
 cup. In vain he sought an interview. Bud always 
 eluded him. While by all the faces about him 
 Ralph learned that the storm was getting nearer 
 and nearer to himself. It might delay. If it had 
 been Pete Jones alone, it might blow over. But 
 Ralph felt sure that the relentless hand of Dr. 
 Small was present in all his troubles. And he had 
 only to look into Small s eye to know how inex 
 tinguishable was a malignity that burned so steadily 
 and so quietly. 
 
 But there is no cup of unmixed bitterness. With 
 an innocent man there *s no night so dark that 
 some star does not shine. Ralph had one strong 
 sheet-anchor. On his return frorr) Lewisburg on 
 Monday Bud had handed him a note, written on 
 common bxue foolscap, in round, old-fashioned 
 nand. It ran : 
 
 " Dear Sir : Anybody who can do so good a 
 
 thing as you did for our Shocky, can not be bad. J 
 15 
 
226 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 hope you will forgive me. All the appearances in 
 the world, and all that anybody says, can not make 
 me think you anything else but a good man. I 
 hope God will reward you. You must not answer 
 this, and you hadn t better see me again, or think 
 any more of what you spoke about the other night. 
 I shall be a slave for three years more, and then I 
 must work for my mother and Shocky; but I felt 
 so bad to think that I had spoken so hard to you y 
 that I could not help writing this. Respectfully, 
 
 " HANNAH THOMSON. 
 " To MR. R. HARTSOOK, ESQ." 
 
 Ralph read it over and over. What else he did 
 with it I shall not tell. You want to know whether 
 he kissed it, and put it into his bosom. Many a man 
 as intelligent and manly as Hartsook has done quite 
 as foolish a thing as that. You have been a little 
 silly perhaps if it is silly and you have acted in 
 a sentimental sort of a way over such things. But 
 ft would never do for me to tell you what Ralph did. 
 Whether he put the letter into his bosom or not, 
 he put the words into his heart, and, metaphorically 
 speaking, he shook that little blue billet, written on 
 coarse foolscap paper he shook that little letter, 
 full of confkterKe, in the face and eyes of all the 
 calamities that haunted him. If Hannah believed 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 227 
 
 in him, the whole world might distrust him. When 
 Hannah was in one scale and the whole world in 
 the other, of what account was the world? Justice 
 may be blind, but all the pictures of blind cupids 
 in the world can not make Love blind. And it was 
 well that Ralph weighed things in this way, Fof 
 the time was come in which he needed all the cour 
 age the blue billet could give him. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 ABOUT ten days after Ralph s return to Flat 
 Creek things came to a crisis. 
 
 The master was rather relieved at first to have 
 the crisis come. He had been holding juvenile 
 Flat Creek under his feet by sheer force of will. 
 And such an exercise of " psychic power " is very 
 exhausting. In racing on the Ohio the engineer 
 sometimes sends the largest of the firemen to hold 
 the safety-valve down, and this he does by hanging 
 himself to the lever by his hands. Ralph felt that 
 he had been holding the safety-valve down, and 
 that he was so weary of the operation that ar ex 
 plosion would be a real relief. He was a little tired 
 of having everybody look on him as a thief. It \\ f & 
 a little irksome to know that new bolts were put ofr 
 the doors of the houses in which he had staid. And 
 now that Shocky was gone, and Bud had turned 
 against him, and Aunt Matilda suspected him, and 
 even poor, weak, exquisite Walter Johnson would 
 not associate with him, he felt himself an outlaw 
 indeed. He would have gone away to Texas or the 
 
THE FLIGHT. 62Q 
 
 new gold fields in California had it not been for one 
 thing. That letter on blue foolscap paper kept a 
 little warmth in his heart. 
 
 His course from school on the evening that some* 
 thing happened lay through the sugar-camp. 
 Among the dark trunks of the maples, solemn and 
 lofty pillars, he debated the case. To stay, or to 
 flee ? The worn nerves could not keep their present 
 tension much kmger. 
 
 It was just by the brook, or, as they say in In 
 diana, the " branch," T that something happened 
 which brought him to a sudden decision. Ralph 
 never afterward could forget that brook. It was a 
 swift-running little stream, that did not babble 
 blatantly over the stones. It ran through a thicket 
 of willows, through the sugar-camp, and out into 
 Means s pasture. Ralph had just passed through 
 the thicket, had just crossed the brook on the half- 
 
 * I have already mentioned the absence of pail and pare from the 
 ancient Hoosier folk-speech. Brook is likewise absent. The illiter 
 ate Indiana countryman before the Civil War, let us say, had no pails, 
 pared no apples, husked no corn, crossed no brooks. The same is 
 true, I believe, of the South generally. As the first settlers on the 
 Southern coast entered the land by the rivers, each smaller stream* 
 was regarded as a branch of the larger one. A sma)J stream was 
 therefore called a branch. The word brook was probably lost in the 
 first generation. But a small stream is often called a run in the 
 Middle a.nd Southern belt. Halliwell gives rundel as used with the 
 ifeme signification in England, and he gives ryn in the same sense 
 from an oia manuscript. 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 decayed log that spanned it, when, as he emerged 
 from the water-willows on the other side, he started 
 with a sudden shock. For there was Hannah, with 
 a white, white face, holding out a little note folded 
 like an old-fashioned thumb-paper. 
 
 " Go quick ! " she stammered as she slipped it 
 into Ralph s hand, inadvertently touching his fin 
 gers with her own a touch that went tingling 
 through the school-master s nerves. But she had 
 hardly said the words until she was gone down the 
 brookside path and over into the pasture. A few 
 minutes afterward she drove the cows up into the 
 lot and meekly took her scolding from Mrs. Means 
 for being gone sech an awful long time, like a lazy, 
 good-fer-nothin piece of goods that she was. 
 
 Ralph opened the thumb-paper note, written on 
 a page torn from an old copy-book, in Bud s " hand- 
 write " and running: 
 
 " Mr. Heartsook 
 
 "deer Sur: 
 
 "i Put in my best licks, taint no use. Run fer 
 yore life. A plans on foot to tar an fether or wuss 
 to-night. Go rite off. Things is awful juberous. 1 
 
 " BUD." 
 
 * tuberous is in none of the vocabularies that I have seen. I once 
 treated this word in print as an undoubted corruption of dubious, and 
 when used subjectively it apparently feels the influence of dubious, as 
 
THE FLIGHT. 
 
 The first question with Ralph was whether he 
 could depend on Bud. But he soon made up his 
 mind that treachery of any sort was not one of his 
 traits. He had mourned over the destruction of 
 Bud s good resolutions by Martha Hawkins s refu 
 sal, and being a disinterested party he could have- 
 comforted Bud by explaining Martha s "mitten."- 
 But he felt sure that Bud was not treacherous. It 
 was a relief, then, as he stood there to know that 
 the false truce was aver, and worst had come to 
 worst. 
 
 His first impulse was to stay and fight. But his 
 nerves were not strong enough to execute so fool 
 hardy a resolution. He seemed to see a man be 
 hind every maple-trunk. Darkness was fast coming 
 on, and he knew that his absence from supper at his 
 boarding-place could not fail to excite suspicion. 
 There was no time to be lost. So he started. 
 
 Once run from a danger, and panic is apt to en 
 sue. The forest, the stalk-fields, the dark hollows 
 through which he passed, seemed to be peopled 
 with terrors. He knew Small and Jones well 
 
 frheroone says : "I feel mighty juberous about it." But it is much* 
 oftener applied as in the text to the object of fear, as " The bridge 
 looks kind o juberous." Halliwell gives ths verb juberd and defir*es 
 it as " to jeop?,rd or endanger." It is clearly a dialect form of jeop 
 ard, and I make no doubt that juberoris is a dialect variation oi 
 \eopardous, occasionally used as a form of dubious. 
 
232 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 enough to know that every avenue of escape would 
 be carefully picketed. So there was nothing to do 
 but to take the shortest path to the old trysting 
 place, the Spring-in-rock. 
 
 Here he sat and shook with terror. Angry with 
 himself, he inly denounced himself for a coward, 
 But the effect was really a physical one. The chill 
 and panic now were the reaction from the previous 
 strain. 
 
 For when the sound of his pursuers voices broke 
 upon his ears early in the evening, Ralph shook no 
 more; the warm blood set back again toward the 
 extremities, and his self-control returned when he 
 needed it. He gathered some stones about him, 
 as the only weapons of defense at hand. The mob 
 was on the cliff above. But he thought that he 
 heard footsteps in the bed of the creek below. If 
 ;his were so, there could be no doubt that his hid 
 ing-place was suspected. 
 
 "O Hank!" shouted Bud from the top of the 
 cliff to some one in the creek below, " be sure to 
 ook at the Spring-in-rock I think he s there." 
 
 This hint was not lost on Ralph, who speedify 
 changed his quarters by climbing up to a secluded, 
 shelf-like ledge above the spring. He was none too 
 soon, for Pete Jones and Hank Banta were soon 
 looking all around the spring for him, while he held 
 
THE FLIGHT. 233 
 
 a twenty-pound stone over their heads ready to 
 drop upon them in case they should think of looking 
 on the ledge above. 
 
 When the crowd were gone Ralph knew that one 
 .road was open to him. He could follow down the 
 creek to Clifty, and thence he might escape. But, 
 traveling down to Clifty, he debated whether it was 
 best to escape. To flee was to confess his guilt, to 
 make himself an outlaw, to put an insurmountable 
 barrier between himself and Hannah, whose terror- 
 stricken and anxious face as she stood by the brook- 
 willows haunted him now, and was an involuntary 
 witness to her love. 
 
 Long before he reached Clifty his mind was made 
 up not to flee another mile. He knocked at the 
 door of Squire Underwood. But Squire Under* 
 wood was also a doctor, and had been called away 
 He knocked at the door of Squire Doolittle. But 
 Squire Doolittle had gone to Lewisburg. He was 
 about to give up all hope of being able to surrender 
 himself to the law when he met Squire Hawkins s 
 who had come over to Clifty to avoid responsibility 
 for the ill-deeds of his neighbors which he was pow 
 erless to prevent. 
 
 " Is that you, Mr. Hartsook ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I want you to arrest me and try me 
 here in Clifty." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 THE ">H>jCuting attorney " (for so ttoe State s 
 attorney is called in Indiana) had been sent for the 
 night before. Ralph refused all legal help. It was 
 not wise to reject counsel, but all his blood was up, 
 and he declared that he would not be cleared by 
 legal quibbles. If his innocence were not made 
 evident to everybody, he would rather not be ac 
 quitted on a preliminary examination. He would 
 go over to the circuit court and have the matter 
 sifted to the bottom. But he would have been 
 pleased had his uncle offered his counsel, though 
 he would have declined it. He would have felt 
 better to have had a letter from home somewhat 
 different from the one he received from his Aunt- 
 Matilda by the hand of the prosecuting attorney. 
 It was not very encouraging or very sympathetic, 
 though it was very characteristic. 
 
 Dear Ralph: 
 
 " This is what I have always been afraid of. 1 
 warned you faithfully the last time I saw you. My 
 
THE TRIAL. 235 
 
 skirts are clear of your blood. I can not consent 
 for your uncle to appear as your counsel or to go 
 your bail. You know how much it would injure 
 him in the county, and he has no right to suffer 
 for your evil acts. O my dear nephew! for the 
 sake of your poor, dead mother " 
 
 We never shall know what the rest of that letter 
 was. Whenever Aunt Matilda got to Ralph s poor, 
 dead mother in her conversation Ralph ran out of 
 the house. And now that his poor, dead mother 
 was again made to do service in his aunt s pious 
 rhetoric, he landed the letter on the hot coals be 
 fore him, and watched it vanish into smoke with a 
 grim satisfaction. 
 
 Ralph was a little afraid of a mob. But Clifty 
 was better than Flat Creek, and Squire Hawkins, 
 with all his faults, loved justice, and had a profound 
 respect for the majesty of the law, and a profound 
 respect for his own majesty when sitting as a court 
 representing the law. Whatever maneuvers he 
 might resort to in business affairs in order to avoid 
 a conflict with his lawless neighbors, he was cour 
 ageous and inflexible on the bench. The Squire 
 ivas the better part of him. With the co-operation 
 of the constable, he had organized a posse of men 
 who could be depended on to enforce the law 
 against a mob. 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 By the time the trial opened in the large school- 
 house in Clifty at eleven o clock, all the surround 
 ing country had emptied its population kito Clifty, 
 and all Flat Creek was on hand ready to testify to 
 something. Those who knew the least appeared to 
 know the most, and were prodigal of their significant 
 winks and nods. Mrs. Means had always suspect 
 ed him. She seed some mighty suspicious things 
 about him from the word go. She d allers had her 
 doubts whether he was jist the thing, and ef her ole 
 man had axed her, liker-n not he never d a been 
 hired. She d seed things with her own livin eyes 
 that beat all she ever seed in all her born days. 
 And Pete Jones said he d allers knowed ther warn t 
 no good in sech a feller. Couldn t stay abed when 
 be got there. And Granny Sanders said, Law s 
 sakes ! nobody d ever a found him out ef it hadn t 
 been fer her. Didn t she go all over the neighbor 
 hood a-warnin* people ? Fer her part, she seed 
 straight through that piece of goods. He was fond 
 of the gals, too i Nothing was so great a crime in 
 her eyes as to be fond of the gals. 
 
 The constable paid unwitting tribute to William 
 the Conquerer by crying Squire Hawkins s court 
 open with an Oyez ! or, as he said, " O yes ! " and the 
 Squire asked Squire Underwood, who came in at 
 that minute, to sit with him. From the start, it 
 
THE TRIAL. 237 
 
 was evident to Ralph that the prosecuting attorney 
 had been thoroughly posted by Small, though, look, 
 ing at that worthy s face, one would have thought 
 him the most disinterested and philosophical spec 
 tator in the court-room. 
 
 Bronson, the prosecutor, was a young man, and 
 this was his first case since his election. He was 
 very ambitious to distinguish himself, very anxious 
 to have Flat Creek influence on his side in politics; 
 and, consequently, he was very determined to send 
 Ralph Hartsook to State prison, justly or unjustly, 
 by fair means or foul. To his professional eyes 
 this was not a question of right and wrong, not a 
 question of life or death to such a man as Ralph, 
 It was George H. Bronson s opportunity to distin 
 guish himself. And so, with many knowing and 
 confident nods and hints, and with much deference 
 to the two squires, he opened the case, affecting 
 great indignation at Ralph s wickedness, and utter 
 ing Delphic hints about striped pants and shaven 
 head, and the grating of prison-doors at Jefferson* 
 wile, 
 
 " And, now, if the court please, I am about to 
 call a witness whose testimony is very important 
 indeed. Mrs. Sarah Jane Means will please step 
 forward and be sworn. * 
 
 This Mrs. Means did with alacrity. She had met 
 
238 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 the prosecutor, and impressed him with her dark 
 hints. She was sworn. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Means, have the goodness to tell us 
 what you know of the robbery at the house of Peter 
 Schroeder, and the part defendant had in it." 
 
 " Well, you see, I allers suspected that air young 
 man " 
 
 Here Squire Underwood stopped her, and tola 
 her that she must not tell her suspicions, but facts. 
 
 " Well, it s facts I am a-going to tell," she sniffed 
 indignantly. " It s facts that I mean to tell." Here 
 her voice rose to a keen pitch, and she began to 
 abuse the defendant. Again and again the court 
 insisted that she must tell what there was suspi 
 cious about the school-master. At last she got 
 it out. 
 
 " Well, fer one thing, what kind of gals did he go 
 with ? Hey ? Why, with my bound gal, Hanner, 
 a-lcafin along through the blue-grass paster at ten 
 o clock, and keepin that gal that s got no protector 
 but me out that a-way, and destroyin her character 
 by his company, that a n t fit fer nobody." 
 
 Here Bronson saw that he had caught a tartar.* 
 He said he had no more questions to ask of Mrs. 
 Means, and that, unless the defendant wished to 
 cross-question her, she could stand aside. Ralph 
 said he would like to ask her one question. 
 
THE TRIAL. 239 
 
 "Did I ever go with your daughter Miranda?" 
 
 " No, you didn t," answered the witness, with a 
 tune and a toss of the head that let the cat out, and 
 set he court-room in a giggle. Bronson saw that 
 he was gaining nothing, and now resolved to follow 
 the line which Small had indicated. 
 
 Pere Jones was called, and swore point-blank that 
 he heard Ralph go out of the house soon after he 
 went 10 bed, and that he heard him return at two 
 in the morning. This testimony was given without 
 hesitation, and made a great impression against 
 Ralph in the minds of the justices. Mrs. Jones, a 
 poor, brow-beaten woman, came on the stand in a 
 frightened way, and swore to the same lies as her 
 husband. Ralph cross-questioned her, but her part 
 had been well learned. 
 
 There seemed now little hope for Ralph. But 
 just at this moment who should stride into the 
 school-house but Pearson, the one-legged old soldiei 
 basket-maker ? He had crept home the night be 
 \fore, " to see ef the ole woman didn t want some* 
 thin ," and hearing of Ralph s arrest, he concluded 
 Vhat the time for him to make " a forrard move 
 ment " had come, and so he determined to face the 
 foe. 
 
 " Looky here, Squar," he said, wiping the perspi 
 ration from his brow, " looky here. I jes want to 
 
24O THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 say that I kin tell as much about this case as any. 
 body." 
 
 " Let us hear it, then," said Bronson, who thought 
 he would nail Ralph now for certain. 
 
 So, with many allusions to the time he fit at 
 Lundy s Lane, and some indignant remarks about 
 the pack of thieves that driv him off, and a passing 
 tribute to Miss Martha Hawkins, and sundry other 
 digressions, in which he had to be checked, the old 
 man told how he d drunk whisky at Welch s store 
 that night, and how Welch s whisky was all-fired 
 mean, and how it allers went straight to his head, 
 and how he had got a leetle too much, and how he 
 had felt kyinder gin aout by the time he got to the 
 blacksmith s shop, and how he had laid down to rest, 
 and how as he s posed the boys had crated him, 
 and how he thought it war all-fired mean to crate 
 a old soldier what fit the Britishers, and lost his leg 
 by one of the blamed critters a-punchin his bago. 
 net 1 through it; and how when he woke up it was 
 all-fired cold, and how he rolled off the crate and 
 
 1 This form, bagonet, is not in the vocabularies, but it was spoken 
 is I have written it. The Century Dictionary gives bagnet, and Hal- 
 liwell and Wright both give baginct with the g soft apparently, though 
 neither the one nor the other is very explicit in distinguishing tran 
 scriptions from old authors from phonetic spellings of dialect forms. 1 
 fancy that this bagonet is impossible as a corruption of bayonet and 
 that it points to some other derivation of that word than the doubtful 
 an* from Bavonnc. 
 
THE TRIAL. 241 
 
 went on towurds home, and how when he got up to 
 the top of Means s hill he met Pete Jones and Bill 
 Jones, and a slim sort of a young man, a-ridin ; and 
 how he know d the Joneses by ther hosses, and 
 some more things of that kyind about em ; but he 
 didn t know the slirr young man, tho he tho t he 
 might tell him ef he seed him agin kase he was 
 dressed up so slick and town-like. B ut blamed ef 
 he didn t think it hard that a passel o thieves sech 
 as the Joneses should try to put ther mean things 
 OK to a man like the master, that was so kyind to 
 hifri and to Shocky, tho , fer that matter, blamed 
 ef he didn t think we was all selfish, akordin* to his 
 tell. Had seed somebody that night a-crossin* over 
 the blue-grass paster. Didn t know who in thunder 
 twas, but it was somebody a-makin* straight fer 
 Pete Jones s. Hadn t seed nobody else, ceptin* Dr. 
 Small, a short ways behind the Joneses. 
 
 Hannah was now brought on the stand. She 
 was greatly agitated, and answered with much re 
 luctance. Lived at Mr. Means s. Was eighteen 
 years of age in October. Had been bound to Mrs. 
 Means three years ago. Had walked home with, 
 Mr. Hartsook that evening, and, happening to look 
 out of the window toward morning, she saw some 
 one cross the pasture. Did not know who it was. 
 
 Thought it was Mr. Hartsook. Here Mr. Bronscm 
 16 
 
242 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL MASTER. 
 
 (evidently prompted by a suggestion that came 
 from what Small had overheard when he listened 
 in the barn) asked her if Mr. Hartsook had ever 
 said anything to her about the matter afterward. 
 After some hesitation, Hannah said that he had 
 said that he crossed the pa ture. Of his own ao 
 cord ? No, si e spoke of it tirst. Had Mr. Hart* 
 sook offered any explanations ? No, he hadn t 
 Had he eve*- paid her any attention afterward ? 
 No. Ralph declined to cross-question Hannah. 
 To him she never seemed so fair as when telling the 
 tri^ri so sublimely. 
 
 Bronson now informed the court that this little 
 trick of having the old soldier happen in, in the 
 nick of time, wouldn t save the prisoner at the bar 
 from the just punishment which an outraged law 
 visited upon such crimes as his. He regretted that 
 his duty as a public prosecutor caused it to fall to 
 his lot to marshal the evidence that was to blight 
 the prospects and blast the character, and annihi 
 late for ever, so able and promising a young man, 
 but that the law knew no difference between the 
 educated and the uneducated, and that for his part 
 he thought Hartsook a most dangerous foe to the 
 peace of society. The evidence already given fas 
 tened suspicion upon him. The prisoner had not 
 yet been able to break its force at all. The pris- 
 
THE TRIAL. 243 
 
 oner had not even dared to try to explain to a 
 young lady the reason for his being out at night, 
 He would now conclude by giving the last touch 
 to the dark evidence that would sink the once 
 fair name of Ralph Hartsook in a hundred fathom? 
 of infamy. He would ask that Henry Banta be 
 called. 
 
 Hank came forward sheepishly, and was sworn. 
 Lived about a hundred yards from the house that 
 was robbed. He seen ole man Pearson and the 
 master and one other feller that he didn t know 
 come away from there together about one o clock. 
 He heerd the horses kickin , and went out to the 
 stable to see about them. He seed two men come 
 out of Schroeder s back door and meet one man 
 standing at the gate. When they got closter he 
 knowed Pearson by his wooden leg and the master 
 by his hat. On cross-examination he was a little 
 confused when asked why he hadn t told of it be 
 fore, but said that he was afraid to say much, 
 bekase the folks was a-talkin* about hanging the 
 master, and he didn t want no lynchin . 
 
 The prosecution here rested, Bronson maintain- 
 ing that there was enough evidence to justify 
 Ralph s committal to await trial. But the court 
 thought that as the defendant had no counsel and 
 offered no rebutting testimony, it would be only 
 
244 E HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 fair to hear what the prisoner had to say in his own 
 defense. 
 
 All this while poor Ralph was looking about the 
 room for Bud. Bud s actions had of late been 
 strangely contradictory. But had he turned coward 
 and deserted his friend ? Why else did he avoid 
 the session of the court ? After asking himself 
 such questions as these, Ralph would wonder at his 
 own folly. What could Bud do if he were there ? 
 There was no human power that could prevent the 
 victim of so vile a conspiracy as this, lodging in 
 that worst of State prisons at Jeffersonville, a place 
 too bad for criminals. But when there is no hu 
 man power to help, how naturally does the human 
 mind look for some divine intervention on the side 
 of Right! And Ralph s faith in Providence looked 
 in the direction of Bud. But since no Bud came, 
 he shut down the valves and rose to his feet, 
 proudly, defiantly, fiercely calm. 
 
 " It s of no use for me to say anything. Peter 
 Jones has sworn to a deliberate falsehood, and he 
 knows it. He has made his wife perjure her poor 
 soul that she dare not call her own." Here Pete s 
 fists clenched, but Ralph in his present humor did 
 not care for mobs. The spirit of the bulldog had 
 complete possession of him. " It is of no u$e for 
 me to tell you that Henry Banta has sworn *<* * lie y 
 
THE TRIAL. 245 
 
 partly to revenge himself on me for punishments 
 I have given him, and partly, perhaps, for money. 
 The real thieves are in this court-room. I could 
 put my finger on them/ 
 
 " To be sure," responded the old basket-maker 
 Ralph looked at Pete Jones, then at Small. The 
 fiercely calm look attracted the attention of the 
 people. He knew that this look would probably 
 cost him his life before the next morning. But he 
 did not care for life. "The testimony of Mis? 
 Hannah Thomson is every word true. I believe 
 that of Mr. Pearson to be true. The rest is false. 
 But I can not prove it. I know the men I have to 
 deal with. I shall not escape with State prison. 
 They will not spare my life. But the people of 
 Clifty will one day find out who are the thieves/* 
 Ralph then proceeded to tell how he had left Pete 
 Jones s, Mr. Jones s bed being uncomfortable; how 
 he had walked through the pasture; how he had 
 seen three men on horseback ; how he had noticed 
 the sorrel with the white left forefoot and white 
 nose; how he had seen Dr. Small; how, after his 
 return, he had heard some one enter the house, and 
 how he had recognized the horse the next morn 
 ing. "There," said Ralph desperately, leveling his 
 finger at Pete, " there is a man who will yet see the 
 inside of a penitentiary, I shall not live to see it, 
 
246 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 but the rest of you will." Pete quailed. Ralph s 
 speech could not of course break the force of the 
 testimony against him. But it had its effect, and it 
 had effect enough to alarm Bronson, who rose and 
 said: 
 
 " I should like to ask the prisoner at the bar one 
 question." 
 
 " Ask me a dozen," said Hartsook, looking more 
 like a king than a criminal. 
 
 "Well, then, Mr. Hartsook. You need not 
 answer unless you choose ; but what prompted you 
 to take the direction you did in your walk on that 
 evening ? " 
 
 This shot brought Ralph down. To answer this 
 question truly would attach to friendless Hannah 
 Thomson some of the disgrace that now belonged 
 to him. 
 
 " I decline to answer," said Ralph. 
 
 " Of course, I do not want the prisoner to crim 
 inate himself," said Bronson significantly. 
 
 During this last passage Bud had come in, but, to 
 Ralph s disappointment he remained near the door, 
 calking to Walter Johnson, who had come with 
 nim. The magistrates put their heads together to 
 fix the amount of bail, and. as they differed, talked 
 for some minutes. Small now for the first time 
 thought best to make a move in his own proper 
 
THE TRIAL. 247 
 
 person. He could hardly have been afraid oi 
 Ralph s acquittal. He may have been a little anx 
 ious at the manner in which he had been mentioned, 
 and at the significant look of Ralph, and he proba 
 bly meant to excite indignation enough against the 
 school-master to break the force of his speech, and 
 secure the lynching of the prisoner, chiefly by peo-> 
 pie outside his gang. He rose and asked the court 
 in gentlest tones to hear him. He had no personal 
 interest in this trial, except his interest in the wel 
 fare of his old schoolmate, Mr. Hartsook. He was 
 grieved and disappointed to find the evidence 
 against him so damaging and he would not for the 
 world add a feather to it, if it were not that his 
 own name had been twice alluded to by the de 
 fendant, and by his friend, and perhaps his confed 
 erate, John Pearson. He was prepared to swear 
 that he was not over in Flat Creek the night of the 
 robbery later than ten o clock, and while the state 
 ments of the two persons alluded to, whether ma 
 liciously intended or not, could not implicate him 
 at all, he thought perhaps this lack of veracity in 
 their statements might be of weight in determining 
 some other points. He therefore suggested he 
 could only suggest, as he was not a party to the 
 case in any way that his student, Mr. Walte* 
 Johnson, be called to testify as to his Dr. Small s 
 
248 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 exact whereabouts on the night in question, 
 They were together in his office until two, when he 
 went to the tavern and went to bed. 
 
 Squire Hawkins, having adjusted his teeth, his 
 wig, and his glass eye, thanked Dr. Small for a sug 
 gestion so valuable, and thought best to put John 
 Pearson under arrest before proceeding further. 
 Mr. Pearson was therefore arrested, and was heard 
 to mutter something about a " passel of thieves," 
 when the court warned him to be quiet. 
 
 Walter Johnson was then called. But before giv 
 ing his testimony, I must crave the reader s patience 
 while I go back to some things which happened 
 nearly a week before and which will serve to make 
 it intelligible. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 "BROTHER SODOM." 
 
 IN order to explain Walter Johnson s testimony 
 and his state of mind, I must carry the reader back 
 nearly a week. The scene was Dr. Small s office. 
 Bud and Walter Johnson had been having some 
 confidential conversation that -evening, and Bud 
 had got more out of his companion than that ex 
 quisite but weak young man had intended. He 
 looked round n a frightened way. 
 
 * You see," said Walter, " if Small knew I had 
 told you that, I d get a bullet some night from 
 somebody. But when you re initiated it ll be all 
 right. Sometimes I wish I was out of it. But, 
 you know, Small s this kind of a man. He sees 
 through you. He can look through a door" and 
 there he shivered, and his voke broke down into a 
 whisper. But Bud was perfectly cool, and doubt 
 less it was the strong coolness of Bud that made 
 vValter, who shuddered at a shadow, come to him 
 for sympathy and unbosom himself of one of his 
 guilty secrets. 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 " Let s go and hear Brother Sodom preach to 
 night," said Bud. 
 
 " No, I don t like to." 
 
 " He don t scare you ? " There was just a touch 
 of ridicule in Bud s voice. He knew Walter, and 
 he had not counted amiss when he used this little 
 goad to prick a skin so sensitive. " Brother Sodom " 
 was the nickname given by scoffers to the preacher 
 Mr. Soden whose manner of preaching had so 
 aroused Bud s combativeness, and whose saddle- 
 stirrups Bud had helped to amputate. For reasons 
 of his own, Bud thought best to subject young 
 Johnson to the heat of Mr. Soden s furnace. 
 
 Peter Cartwright boasts that, on a certain occa- 
 sion, he " shook his brimstone wallet " over the 
 people. Mr. Soden could never preach without 
 his brimstone wallet. There are those of refinement 
 so attenuated that they will not admit that fear can 
 have any place in religion. But a religion without 
 fear could never have evangelized or civilized the 
 West, which at one time bade fair to become a 
 perdition as bad as any that Brother Sodom ever 
 depicted. And against these on the one side, and 
 the Brother Sodoms on the other, I shall interrupt 
 my story to put this chapter under shelter of that 
 wise remark of the great Dr. Adam Clark, who says 
 * The fear of God is th* beginning of wisdom, the 
 
"BROTHER SODOM. * 2$I 
 
 terror of God confounds the soul ; " and that other 
 saying of his : " With the fear of God the love of 
 God is ever consistent ; but where the terror of the 
 Lord reigns, there can neither be fear, faith, nor 
 love ; nay, nor hope either." And yet I am not sure 
 that even the Brother Sodoms were made in vain. 
 
 On this evening Mr. Soden was as terrible as 
 usual. Bud heard him without flinching. Small, 
 who sat farther forward, listened with pious ap 
 proval. Mr. Soden, out of distorted figures pieced 
 together from different passages of Scripture, 
 built a hell, not quite Miltonic, nor yet Dantean,, 
 but as Miltonic and Dantean as his unrefined imag* 
 ination could make it. As he rose toward his cli 
 max of hideous description, Walter Johnson trem- 
 bled from head to foot and sat close to Bud. Then, 
 as burly Mr. Soden, with great gusto, depicted 
 materialistic tortures that startled the nerves of 
 everybody except Bud, Walter wanted to leave, 
 but Bud would not let him. For some reason he 
 wished to keep his companion in the crucible ag 
 long as possible. 
 
 "Young man!" cried Mr. Soden, and the explo 
 sive voice seemed to come from the hell that he had 
 created " young man ! you who have followed the 
 counsel of evil companions " here he paused ana 
 looked about, as if trying to find the man he wante4, 
 
2$2 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 while Walter crept up close to Bud and shaded his 
 face " I mean you who have chosen evil pursuits 
 and who can not get free from bad habits and asso 
 ciations that are dragging you down to hell! You 
 are standing on the very crumbling brink of hell to 
 night. The smell of the brimstone is on your gar 
 ments j the hot breath of hell is in your face ! The 
 devils are waiting for you ! Delay and you are 
 damned ! You may die before daylight ! You may 
 never get out that door! The awful angel of death 
 is just ready to strike you down ! " Here some 
 shrieked with terror, others sobbed, and Brother 
 Sodom looked with approval on the storm he had 
 awakened. The very harshness of his tone, his 
 lofty egotism of manner, that which had roused all 
 Bud s combativeness, shook poor Walter as a wind 
 would shake a reed. In the midst of the general 
 excitement he seized his hat and hastened out the 
 door. Bud followed, while Soden shot his light 
 nings after them, declaring that " young men who 
 ran away from the truth would dwell in torments 
 forever." 
 
 Bud had not counted amiss when he thought 
 that Mr. Soden s preaching would be likely to 
 arouse so mean-spirited a fellow as Walter. So 
 vivid was the impression that Johnson begged Bud 
 %c> return to the office with him. He felt sick, and 
 
"BROTHER SODOM." 253 
 
 was afraid that he should die before morning. He 
 insisted that Bud should stay with him all night. 
 To this Means readily consented, and by morning 
 he had heard all that the frightened Walter had to 
 tell. 
 
 And now let us return to the trial, where Ralph 
 sits waiting the testimony of Walter Johnson, which 
 is to prove his statement false. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE TRIAL CONCLUDED. 
 
 1 DO not know how much interest the "gentle 
 reader " may feel in Bud. But I venture to hope 
 that there are some Buddhists among my readers 
 who will wish the contradictoriness of his actions 
 explained. The first dash of disappointment had 
 well-nigh upset him. And when a man concludes 
 to throw overboard his good resolutions, he always 
 seeks to avoid the witness of those resolutions. 
 Hence Bud, after that distressful Tuesday even 
 ing on which Miss Martha had given him "the 
 sack," wished to see Ralph less than any one 
 else. And yet when he came to suspect Small s 
 villainy, his whole nature revolted at it. But 
 having broken with Ralph, he thought it best to 
 maintain an attitude of apparent hostility, that 
 he might act as a detective, and, perhaps, save his 
 friend from the mischief that threatened him. As 
 soon as he heard of Ralph s arrest he determined 
 to make Walter Johnson tell his own secret in 
 court, because he knew that it would be best for 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED. 255 
 
 Ralph that Walter should tell it. Bud s telling at 
 second-hand would not be conclusive. And he 
 sincerely desired to save Walter from prison. For 
 Walter Johnson was the victim of Dr. Small, or of 
 Dr. Small and such novels as " The Pirate s Bride," 
 * Claude Duval," " The Wild Rover of the West 
 Indies," and the cheap biographies of such men as 
 
 Murrell. Small found him with his imagination 
 
 *- 
 
 inflamed by the history of such heroes, and opened 
 to him the path to glory for which he longed. 
 
 The whole morning after Ralph s arrest Bud was 
 working on Walter s conscience and his fears. 
 The poor fellow, unable to act for himself, was torn 
 asunder between the old ascendency of Small and 
 the new ascendency of Bud Means. Bud finally 
 frightened him, by the fear of the penitentiary, into 
 going to the place of trial. But once inside the 
 door, and once in sight of Small, who was more to 
 him than God, or, rather, more to him than the 
 devil for the devil was Walter s God, or, perhaps, 
 I should say, Walter s God was a devil once in 
 sight of Small, he refused to move an inch farther. 
 And Bud, after all his perseverance, was about to 
 give up in sheer despair. 
 
 Fortunately, just at that moment Small s desire 
 to relieve himself from the taint of suspicion and 
 to crush Ralph as completely as possible, made him 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 overshoot the mark by asking that Walter be called 
 fx> the stand, as we have before recounted. He 
 knew that he had no tool so supple as the cowardly 
 Walter. In the very language of the request, he 
 had given Walter an intimation of what he wanted 
 him to swear to. Walter listened to Small s words 
 as to his doom. He felt that he should die of inde 
 cision. The perdition of a man of his stamp is to 
 %ave to make up his mind. Such men generally 
 fall back on some one more positive, and take all 
 their resolutions ready-made. But here Walter 
 must decide for himself. For the constable was 
 already calling his name ; the court, the spectators, 
 and, most of all, Dr. Small, were waiting for him. 
 He moved forward mechanically through the dense 
 crowd, Bud following part of the way to whisper, 
 " Tell the truth or go to penitentiary." Walter 
 shook and shivered at this. The witness with diffi 
 culty held up his hand long enough to be sworn. 
 
 " Please tell the court, * said Bronson, " whether 
 you know anything of the whereabouts of Dr. 
 Small on the night of the robbery at Peter Schroe- 
 der s." 
 
 Small had detected Walter s agitation, and, tak 
 ing alarm, had edged his way around so as to stanc 
 full in Walter s sight, and there, with keen, mag 
 netic eye on the weak orbs of the young man, he 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED. 257 
 
 was able to assume his old position, and sway the 
 fellow absolutely. 
 
 " On the night of the robbery " Walter s voice 
 was weak, but he seemed to be reading his answer 
 out of Small s eyes " on the night of the robbery 
 
 Dr. Small came home before " here tne witness 
 
 stopped and shook and shivered again. For Bud, 
 detecting the effect of Small s gaze, had pushed his 
 great hulk in front of Sm^ll, and had fastened his 
 eyes on Walter with a look that said. "Tell the 
 truth or go to penitentiary." 
 
 "I can t, I can t. O God! What shall I do?" 
 the witness exclaimed, answering the look of Bud. 
 For it seemed to him that Bud had spoKen. To 
 the pcoplf and the court this agitation was inex 
 plicable. Squire Hawkins s wig got awrv. his glass 
 eye turned in toward his nose, and he had great 
 difficulty in keeping his teeth from falling out. The 
 excitement became painfully intense. Ralph was 
 on his feet, looking at the witness, and feeling that 
 somehow Bud and Dr. Small his good angel and 
 his demon were playing an awful game, or wnicb 
 he was the stake. The crowd swayed to and fro, 
 but remained utterly silent, waiting to near the 
 least whisper from the witness, who stood trembling 
 a moment with his hands over his face* ana tnetf 
 tainted. 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 The fainting of a person in a crowd is a signal 
 Cor everybody else to make fools of themselves. 
 There was a rush toward the fainting man, there 
 was a cry for water. Everybody asked everybody 
 else to open the window, and everybody wished 
 everybody else to stand back and give him air 
 But nobody opened the window, and nobody stood 
 back. The onty perfectly cool man in the room 
 was Small. With a quiet air of professional au 
 thority he pushed forward and felt the patient s 
 TDulse, remarking to th^ court that he thought it 
 was a sudden attack of fever tt ith delirium. When 
 Walter revived, Dr. Small would have removed 
 trim, but Ralph insisted that his testimony should 
 De heard. Under pretense of watching his patient, 
 Small kept close to him. And Waiter began the 
 ame old story about Dr. Small s having arrived 
 at the office before eleven o clock, when Bud came 
 up behind the doctor and fastened his eyes on 
 the witness with the same significant look, and 
 Walter, with visions of the penitentiary before 
 him halted, stammered, and seemed about to faint 
 again. 
 
 " If the court please," said Bronson, " this witness 
 is evidently intimidated by that stout young man," 
 pointing to Bud. " I have seen him twice interrupt 
 witness s testimony by casting threatening looks at 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED, 259 
 
 him. I trust the court will have him removed from 
 the court-room." 
 
 After a few moments consultation, during which 
 Squire Hawkins held his wig in place with one 
 hand and alternately adjusted his eye ard his spec 
 tacles with the other, the magistrates, who \ver 
 utterly bewildered by the turn things were taking, 
 decided that it could do no harm, and that it was 
 best to try the experiment of removing Bud. Per 
 haps Johnson would then be able to get through 
 with his testimony. The constable therefore asked 
 Bud if he would please leave the room. Bud cast 
 one last look at the witness and. walked out like a 
 captive bear. 
 
 Ralph stood watching the receding form of Bud, 
 The emergency had made him as cool as Small 
 ever was. Bud stopped at the door, where he was 
 completely out of sight of the witness, concealed 
 by the excited spectators, who stood on the benches 
 to see what was going on in front. 
 
 " The witness will please proceed," said Bronson* 
 
 st If the court please " it was Ralph who spoke 
 *--" I believe I have as much at stake in this trial as 
 any one. That witness is evidently intimidated. 
 But not by Mr. Means. I ask that Dr. Small be 
 removed out of sight of the witness." 
 
 "A most extraordinary request, truly." This 
 
260 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 was what Small s bland countenance said; he did 
 not open his lips 
 
 " It s no more than fair," said Squire Hawkins, 
 adjusting his wig, " that the witness be relieved of 
 everything that anybody might think affects his 
 veracity in this matter." 
 
 Dr. Small, giving Walter one friendly, appealing 
 look, moved back by the door, and stood alongside 
 J4ud, as meek, quiet, and disinterested as any man 
 in the house. 
 
 " The witness will now proceed with his testi 
 mony." This time it was Squire Hawkins who 
 spoke. Bronson had been attacked with a suspi 
 cion that this witness was not just what he wanted, 
 and had relapsed into silence. 
 
 Walter s struggle was by no means ended by the 
 disappearance of Small and Bud. There carne the 
 recollection of his mother s stern face a face which 
 had never been a motive toward the right, but only 
 a goad to deception. What would she say if he 
 should confess ? Just as he had recovered himself, 
 and was about to repeat the old lie which had twice 
 died upon his lips at the sight of Bud s look, he 
 caught sight of another face, which made him trem 
 ble again. It was the lofty and terrible counte 
 nance of Mr. Soden. One might have thought, 
 from the expression it wore, that the seven Us* 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED. j6l 
 
 vials were in his hands, the seven apocalyptic trum* 
 pets waiting for his lips, and the seven thunders 
 sitting upon his eyebrows. The moment that 
 Walter saw him he smelled the brimstone on his 
 ewn garments, he felt himself upon the crumbling 
 brink of the precipice, with perdition below him, 
 Now I am sure that " Brother Sodoms " were not 
 made wholly in vain. There are plenty of mean- 
 spirited men like Walter Johnson, whose feeble con 
 sciences need all the support they can get from the 
 fear of perdition, and who are incapable of any 
 other conception of it than a coarse and materialis 
 tic one. Let us set it down to the credit of Brother 
 ^odom, with his stiff stock, his thunderous face, 
 *nd his awful walk, that his influence over Walter 
 was on the side of truth. 
 
 " Please proceed," said Squire Hawkins to Walter 
 The Squire s wig lay on one side, he had forgotten 
 to adjust his eye, and he leaned forward, tremulous 
 with interest. 
 
 "Well, then," said Walter, looking not at the 
 court nor at Bronson nor at the prisoner, but fur 
 tively at Mr. Soden- -" well, then, if I must " and 
 Mr. Soden s awful face seemed to answer that he 
 surely must -"well, then, I hope you won t send 
 me to prison" this to Squire Hawkins, whose face 
 reassured him " but, oh ! I don t see how I can I * 
 
262 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 But one look at Mr. Soden assured him that he 
 could and that he must, and so, with an agony 
 painful to the spectators, he told the story in drib 
 lets. How, whik yet in Lewisburg, he had been 
 made a member of a gang of which Small was chief; 
 how they concealed from him the names of all the 
 band except six, of whom the Joneses and Small 
 were three. 
 
 Here there was a scuffle at the door. The court 
 demanded silence. 
 
 " Dr. Small s trying to git out, plague take him/ 
 said Bud, who stood with his back planted against 
 the door. " I d like the court to send and git his 
 trunk afore he has a chance to burn up all the 
 papers that s in it." 
 
 " Constable, you will arrest Dr. Small, Peter 
 Jones, and William Jones. Send two deputies to 
 bring Small s trunk into court," said Squire Under 
 wood. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney was silent. 
 
 Walter then told of the robbery at Schroeder s, 
 told where he and Small had whittled the fence 
 while the Joneses entered the house, and confirmed 
 Ralph s story by telling how they had seen Ralph 
 in a fence-corner, and how they had met the basket- 
 maker on the hill. 
 
 " To be sure," said the old man, who had not 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDEDo $63 
 
 ventured to hold up his head, after he was antsted, 
 until Walter began his testimony. 
 
 Walter felt inclined to stop, but he couki not dt> 
 it, for there stood Mr. Soden, looking to him like a 
 messenger from the skies, or the bottomless pit v 
 sent to extort the last word from his guilty soul. 
 He felt that he was making a clean breast of it a? 
 the risk of perdition, with the penitentiary thrown 
 in, if he faltered. And so he told the whole 
 thing as though it had been the day of doom, and 
 by the time he was through, Small s trunk was in 
 court. 
 
 Here a new hubbub took place at the door. It 
 was none other than the crazy pauper, Tom Bifield, 
 who personated General Andrew Jackson in the 
 poor-house. He had caught some inkling of the 
 trial, and had escaped in Bill Jones s absence. 
 His red plume was flying, and in his tattered and 
 filthy garb he was indeed a picturesque figure. 
 
 " Squar," said he, elbowing his way through the 
 crowd, " I kin tell you somethin . I m Gineral 
 Andrew Jackson. Lost my head at Bueny Visty. 
 This head growed on. It a n t good fer much. 
 One side s tater. But t other s sound as a nut, 
 NOW, I kind give you information." 
 
 Bronson, with the quick perceptions of a politi 
 cian, had begun to see which way future winds 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 would probably blow. " If the court please," he 
 said, "this man is not wholly sane, but we might 
 get valuable information out of him. I suggest 
 that his testimony be taken for what it is worth." 
 
 " No, you don t swar me," broke in the lunatic, 
 " Not if I knows myself. You see, when a feller s 
 got one side of his head tater, he s mighty onsartain 
 like. You don t swar me, fer I can t tell what 
 minute the tater side ll begin to talk. I m talkin 
 out of the lef side now, and I m all right. But 
 you don t swar me. But ef you ll send some of 
 your constables out to the barn at the pore-house 
 and look under the hay-mow in the north-east cor 
 ner, you ll find some things maybe as has been 
 a-missin* fer some time. And that a n t out of the 
 tater side, nuther." 
 
 Meantime Bud did not rest. Hearing the nature 
 of the testimony given by Hank Banta before he 
 entered, he attacked Hank and vowed he d send 
 him to prison if he didn t make a clean breast. 
 Hank was a thorough coward, and, now that his 
 friends were prisoners, was ready enough to tell the 
 truth if he could be protected from prosecution. 
 Seeing the disposition of the prosecuting attorney, 
 Bud got from him a promise that he would do what 
 he could to protect Hank. That worthy then took 
 the stand, confessed his lie, and even told the in- 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED. 265 
 
 ducement which Mr. Pete Jones had offered him to 
 perjure himself. 
 
 " To be sure," said Pearson. 
 
 Squire Hawkins, turning his right eye upon him, 
 while the left looked at the ceiling, said : " Be care 
 ful, Mr. Pearson, or I shall have to punish you foi 
 contempt." 
 
 " Why, Squar, I didn t know twas any sin to he\ 
 a healthy contemp fer sech a thief as Jones! " 
 
 The Squire looked at Mr. Pearson severely, and 
 the latter, feeling that he had committed some 
 offense without knowing it, subsided into silence. 
 
 Bronson now had a keen sense of the direction 
 of the gale. 
 
 " If the court please," said he, " I have tried to 
 do my duty in this case. It was my duty to pros 
 ecute Mr. Hartsook, however much I might feel 
 assured that he was innocent, and that he would 
 be able to prove his innocence. I now enter a 
 nolle in his case and that of John Pearson* and 1 
 ask that this court adjourn until to-morrow, in 
 order to give me time to examine the evidence in- 
 the case of tiie other parties under arrest. I am 
 proud to think that my efforts have been the means 
 of sifting the matter to the bottom, of freeing Mr< 
 Hartsook from suspicion, and of detecting the real 
 criminals/ j 
 
266 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 " Ugh ! " said Mr. Pearson, who conceived a great 
 dislike to Bronson. 
 
 "The court," said Squire Hawkins, "congratu 
 lates Mr. Hartsook on his triumphant acquittal. 
 He is discharged from the bar of this court, and 
 from the bc.r of public sentiment, without a suspi 
 cion of guilt. Constable, discharge Ralph Hartsook 
 and John Pearson." 
 
 Old Jack Means, who had always had a warm 
 side for the master, now proposed three cheers for 
 Mr. Plartsook, and they were given with a will by 
 the people who would have hanged him an hour 
 before. 
 
 Mrs. Means gave ; t as her opinion that "Jak 
 Means allers wuz a focli " 
 
 " This court," said Dr. Underwood, " has one 
 other duty to perform before adjourning for the 
 day. Recall Hannah Thomson." 
 
 " I jist started her on ahead to git supper and 
 milk the cows," said Mrs. Means. " A n t a-goin to 
 have her loafin* here all day." 
 
 " Constable, recall her. This court can not ad 
 journ until she returns ! " 
 
 Hannah had gone but a little way, and was soo*i 
 m the presence of the court, trembling for fear of 
 some new calamity. 
 
 " Barman Thomson " it was Squire Underwood 
 
THE TRIAL CONCLUDED, 
 
 who spoke " Hannah Thomson, this court wishes 
 to ask you one or two questions." 
 
 " Yes, sir," but her voice died to a whisper. 
 
 " How old did you say you were ? " 
 
 " Eighteen, sir, last October." 
 
 ** Can you prove your age ? " 
 
 * Yes, sir by my mother." 
 
 " For how long are you bound to Mr. Means ? 
 
 "Till I m twenty-one." 
 
 * This court feels in duty bound to inform yo*s 
 that, according to the laws of Indiana, a woman is 
 of age at eighteen, and as no indenture could be 
 made binding after you had reached your majority, 
 you are the victim of a deception. You are free, 
 and if it can be proven that you have been de 
 frauded by a willful deception, a suit for damages 
 will lie." 
 
 "Ugh!" said Mrs. Mear.s. "You re a purty 
 court, a n t you, Dr. Underwood ? " 
 
 " Be careful, Mrs. Means, or I shall have to fine 
 you for contempt of court." 
 
 But the people, who were in the cheering humor t 
 cheered Hannah and the justices, and then cheered 
 Ralph again. Granny Sanders shook hands with 
 him, and allers knowed he d come out right. It 
 allers peared like as if Dr. Small warn t jist the 
 sort to tie to, you know. And old John Pearson 
 
THE HOOSltfR SCHOOL-MASTER 
 
 went home, after drinking two or three glasses Ol 
 Welch s whisky, keeping time to a: imaginary tri 
 umphal march, and feeling prouder than he had 
 ever felt since he fit the Britishers under Scott at* 
 Lundy s Lane. He told his wife that the master 
 had jist knocked the hind-sights offen that air youu^: 
 lawyer from Lewisburg. 
 
 Waltex was held to bail that he might appear as .. 
 a witness and Ralph might have sent his aunt & 
 Roland for an Oliver. But he only sent a note t* 
 his uncle, asking him to go Walter s bai\ 
 had been resentful, he could not have wished 
 complete revenge frhan the day bad 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE. 
 
 NOTHING can be more demoralizing in the long 
 mn than lynch law. And yet lynch law often orig 
 inates in a burst of generous indignation which is 
 not willing to suffer a bold oppressor to escape by 
 means of corrupt and cowardly courts. It is oftener 
 born of fear. Both motives powerfully agitated the 
 people of the region round about Clifty as night 
 drew on after Ralph s acquittal. They were justly 
 indignant that Ralph had been made the victim of 
 such a conspiracy, and they were frightened at the 
 unseen danger to the community from such a band 
 as that of Small s. It was certain that they did not 
 know the full extent of the danger as yet. And 
 ^vhat Small might do with a jury, or what Pete 
 Jones might do with a sheriff, was a question. I 
 must not detain the reader to tell how the mob 
 rose. Nobody knows how such things come about. 
 Their origin is as inexplicable as that of an earth 
 quake. But, at any rate, a rope was twice put 
 round Small s neck during that night, and hofci 
 
2/0 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL MASTER. 
 
 times Small was saved only by the nerve and ad 
 dress of Ralph, who had learned how unjust mob 
 law may be. As for Small, he neither trembled 
 when they were ready to hang him, nor looked re 
 lieved when he was saved, nor showed the slightest 
 flush of penitence or gratitude. He bore himself 
 in a quiet, gentlemanly way throughout, like the 
 admirable villain that he was. 
 
 He waived a preliminary examination the next 
 day; his father went his bail, and he forfeited 
 bail and disappeared from the county and from the 
 horizon of my story. Two reports concerning 
 Small have been in circulation one that he was 
 running a faro-bank in San Francisco, the other 
 that he was curing consumption in New York by 
 some quack process. If this latter were true, it 
 would leave it an open question whether Ralph 
 did well to s^ve him from the gallows. Pete Jones 
 and Bill, as usually happens to the rougher villains, 
 went to prison, and when their terms had expired 
 moved to Pike County, Missouri. 
 
 But it is about Hannah that you wish to hear, 
 and that I wish to tell. She went straight from 
 She court-room to Flat Creek, climbed to her cham 
 ber, packed in a handkerchief all her earthly goods, 
 consisting chiefly of a few family relics, and turned 
 her back on the house of Means forever. At the 
 
AFTER THE BATTLE. 271 
 
 gate she met the old woman, who shook her fist in 
 the girl s face and gave her a parting benediction 
 in the words: "You mis able, ongrateful critter 
 you, go long. I m glad to be shed of you!" At 
 the barn she met Bud, and he told her good-by with 
 a little huskiness in his voice, while a tear glistened 
 in her eyes. Bud had been a friend in need, and 
 such a friend one does not leave without a pang. 
 
 " Where are you going ? Can I " 
 
 " No, no ! " And with that she hastened on, 
 afraid that Bud would offer to hitch up the roan 
 colt. And she did not want to add to his domestic 
 unhappiness by compromising him in that way. 
 
 It was dusk and was raining when she left. The 
 hours were long, the road was lonely, and after the 
 revelations of that day it did not seem wholly safe. 
 But from the moment that she found herself free, 
 her heart had been ready to break with an impa 
 tient homesickness. What though there might be 
 robbers in the woods ? What though there were 
 ten rough miles to travel ? What though the rain 
 was in her face ? What though she had not tasted 
 food since the morning of that exciting day ? Flat 
 Creek and bondage were behind ; freedom, mother, 
 Shocky, and home were before her, and her feet 
 grew lighter with the thought. And if she needed 
 any other joy, it was to know that the master was 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 clear. And he would come ? And so she traversed 
 the weary distance, and so she inquired and found 
 the house, the beautiful, homely old house of beau 
 tiful, homely old Nancy Sawyer, and knocked, and 
 was admitted, and fell down, faint and weary, at 
 her blind mother s feet, and laid her tired head in 
 her mother s lap and wept and wept like a child, 
 and said, "O mother! I m free! I m free!" while 
 the mother s tears baptized her face, and the 
 mother s trembling fingers combed out her tresses. 
 And Shocky stood by her and cried: "I knowed 
 God wouldn t forget you, Hanner!" 
 
 Hannah was ready now to do anything by which 
 she could support her mother and Shocky. She 
 was strong, and inured to toil. She was willing- 
 and cheerful, and she would gladly have gone to 
 service if by that means she could have supported 
 the family. And, for that matter her mother was 
 already able nearly to support herself by her knit 
 ting. But Hannah had been carefully educated 
 when young, and at that moment the old public 
 schools were being organized into a graded school, 
 and the good minister, who shall be nameless, be 
 cause he is, perhaps, still living in Indiana, and who 
 in Methodist parlance was called "the preacher- 
 in-charge of Lewisburg Station " this good minis 
 ter and Miss Nancy Sawyer got Hannah a place as 
 
AFTER THE BATTLE. 273 
 
 teacher in the primary department. And then a 
 little house with four rooms was rented, and a little, 
 a very little furniture was put into it, and the old, 
 sweet home was established again. The father was 
 gone, never to come back again. But the rest were 
 here. And somehow Hannah kept waiting fat 
 *omebodv else to 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 INTO THE LIGHT. 
 
 FOR two weeks longer Ralph taught at the Flat 
 Creek school-house. He was everybody s hero. 
 And he was Bud s idol. He did what he could to 
 get Bud and Martha together, and though Bud 
 always " saw her safe home " after this, and called 
 on her every Sunday evening, yet, to save his life, 
 he could not forget his big fists and his big feet 
 long enough to sy what he most wanted to say, 
 and what Martha most wanted him to say. 
 
 At the end of two weeks Ralph found himself 
 exceedingly weary of Flat Creek, and exceedingly 
 glad to hear from Mr. Means that the school-mone> 
 had " gin out. " It gave him a good excuse to re 
 turn to Lewisburg, where his heart and his treasure 
 were. A certain sense of delicacy had kept him 
 from writing to Hannah just yet. 
 
 When he got to Lewisburg he had good news. 
 His uncle, ashamed of his previous neglect, and 
 perhaps with an eye to his nephew s growing popu 
 larity, had got him the charge of the grammar de 
 
INTO THE LIGHT, 27$ 
 
 partment in the new graded school in the village. 
 So he quietly arranged to board at a boarding 
 house. His aunt could not have him about, of 
 which fact he was very glad. She could not but 
 feel, she said, that he might have taken better care 
 of Walter than he did, when they were only four 
 miles apart. 
 
 He did not hasten to call on Hannah. Why 
 should he ? He sent her a message, of no conse 
 quence in itself, by Nancy Sawyer. Then he took 
 possession of his school ; and then, on the evening 
 of the first day of school, he went, as he had ap 
 pointed to himself, to see Hannah Thomson. 
 
 And she, with some sweet presentiment, had got 
 things ready h y fixing up the scantily-furnished 
 room as well as she ^ould. And Miss Nancy 
 Sawyer, who had seen Ralph that afternoon, had 
 guessed that he was going to see Hannah. It s 
 wonderful how much enjoyment a generous heart 
 can get out of the happiness of others. Is not that 
 what He meant when he said of such as Miss Sawyer 
 that they should have a hundred-fold in this life for 
 all therr sacrifices ? Did not Miss Nancy enjoy a 
 hundred weddings and have the love of five hun 
 dred children ? And so Miss Nancy just happened 
 over at Mrs. Thomson s humble home, and, just 
 in the most matter-o^-course way, asked that lady 
 
THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. 
 
 and Shocky to come over to her house. Shocky 
 wanted Hannah to come too. But Hannah blushed 
 a little, and said that she would rather not. 
 
 And when she was left alone, Hannah fixed her 
 hair two or three times, and swept the hearth, and 
 moved the chairs first one way and then another s 
 and did a good many other needless things. Need- 
 less :, for a lover, if he be a lover, does not see furni 
 ture or dress. 
 
 And then she sat down by the fire, and tried to 
 sew, and tried to look unconcerned, and tried to 
 feel unconcerned, and tried not to expect anybody, 
 and tried to make her heart keep still. And tried 
 in vain. For a gentle rap at the door sent her 
 pulse up twenty beats a minute and made her face 
 burn. And Hartsook was for the fL jt time, abashed 
 in the presence of Hannah. For the oppressed girl 
 had, in two weeks, blossomed out into the full- 
 blown woman. 
 
 And Ralph sat down by the fire, and talked of 
 his school and her school, and everything else but 
 what he wanted to talk abo-ut. And then the con 
 versation drifted back to Flat Creek, and to the 
 walk through the pasture, and to the box-elder tree, 
 and to the painful talk in the lane. And Hannah 
 begged to be forgiven, and Ralph laughed at the 
 Idea that she had done anything wrong. And she 
 
INTO THE LIGHT. 2/7 
 
 praised his goodness to Shocky, and he drew her 
 
 little note out of But I agreed not tell you 
 
 where he kept it. And then she blushed, and he 
 told how the note had sustained him, and how her 
 white face kept up his courage in his flight down 
 the bed of Clifty Creek. And he sat a little nearer, 
 to show her the note that he had carried in his 
 
 bosom 1 have told it ! And but I must not 
 
 proceed. A love-scene, ever so beautiful in itself, 
 wiH not bear telling. And so I shall leave a little 
 gap just here, which you may fill up as you please. 
 . . . Somehow, they never knew how, they got to 
 talking about the future instead of the past, after 
 that, and to planning their two lives as one life. 
 And . . . And when Miss Nancy and Mrs. Thom 
 son returned later in the evening, Ralph was stand 
 ing by the mantel-piece, but Shocky noticed that 
 his chair was close to Hannah s. And good Miss 
 Nancy Sawyer looked in Hannah s face and was 
 happy. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 "HOW IT CAME OUT." 
 
 WE are all children in reading stories. We warn 
 more than all else to know how it all came out at 
 the end, and, if our taste is not perverted, we like 
 it to come out well. For my part, ever since I be 
 gan to write this story, I have been anxious to 
 know how it was going to come out. 
 
 Well, there were very few invited. It took place 
 at ten in the morning. The " preacher-in-charge 
 came, of course. Miss Nancy Sawyer was there. 
 But Ralph s uncle was away, and Aunt Matilda had 
 a sore throat and couldn t come. Perhaps the 
 memory of the fact that she had refused Mrs. 
 Thomson, the pauper, a bed for two nights, affected 
 her throat. But Miss Nancy and her sister were 
 there, and the preacher. And that was all, besides 
 the family, and Bud and Martha. Of course Bud 
 and Martha came. And driving Martha to a wed 
 ding in a "jumper" was the one opportunity Bud 
 needed. His hands were busy, his big boots were 
 
 out of sight, and it was so easy to slip from Ralph s 
 
 378 
 
"HOW IT CAME OUT." 2/9 
 
 k>ve affair to his own, that Bud somehow, in pulling 
 Martha Hawkins s shawl about her, stammered out 
 half a proposal, which Martha, generous soul, took 
 for the whole ceremony, and accepted. And Bud 
 was so happy that Ralph guessed from his face and 
 foice that the agony was over, and Bud was be 
 trothed at last to the " gal as was a gal." 
 
 And after Ralph and Hannah were married- 
 there was no trip, Ralph only changed his boarding, 
 place and became head of the house at Mrs. Thom 
 son s thereafter after it was all over, Bud came to 
 Mr. Hartsook, and, snickering just a little, said as 
 how as him and Martha had fixed it all up, and 
 now they wanted to ax his advice; and Martha, 
 proud but blushing, came up and nodded assent. 
 Bud said as how as he hadn t got no book-larnin" 
 nor nothin , and as how as he wanted to be some- 
 thin , and put in his best licks fer Him, you know. 
 And that Marthy, she was of the same way of 
 thinkin , and that was a blessin . And the Squire 
 was a-goin to marry agin , and Marthy would 
 ruther vacate. And his mother and Mirandy was 
 sech as he wouldn t take no wife to. And he 
 thought as how Mr. Hartsook might think of some 
 way or some place where he and Marthy mout 
 make a livin* fer the present, and put in their best 
 licks fer Him, you know. 
 
280 THE HOOSTER SCHOOL-MASTER, 
 
 Ralph thought a moment. He was about 1$ 
 make an allusion to Hercules and the Augean sta 
 bles, but he remembered that Bud would not un 
 derstand it, though it might remind Martha of some 
 thing she had seen at the East, the time she was to 
 Bosting. 
 
 "Bud, my dear friend," said Ralph, "it looks a 
 tktle hard to ask you to take a new wife H here 
 Bud looked admiringly at Martha " to the poor- 
 house. But I don t know anywhere where you can 
 do so much good for Christ as by taking charge of 
 that place, and I can get the appointment for you. 
 The new commissioners want just such a man." 
 
 " What d ye say, Marthy ? " said Bud. 
 
 " Why, somebody ought to do for the poor, and 
 I should like to do it" 
 
 And so Hercules cleaned the Augean stables. 
 
 And so my humble, homely Hoosier story of 
 twenty years ago * draws to a close, and not without 
 regret I take leave of Ralph and Hannah; and 
 Shocky, and Bud, and Martha, and Miss Nancy, and 
 of my readers. 
 
 P. S. A copy of the Lewisburg Jeffersonian 
 came into my hands to-day, and I see by its col 
 umns that Ralph Hartsook is pirocip^ of the Lew 
 
 Written in 1871. 
 
fsfcurg Academy. It took me some time, however, 
 to make out that the sheriff of the county, Mr. Israel 
 W. Means, was none other than my old friend Bud, 
 of the Church of the Best Licks. I was almost as 
 much puzzled over his name as I was when I saw 
 an article in a cfty paper, by Prof. W. J. Thomson, 
 on Poor-Houses. I should not have recognized the 
 writer as Shocky, had I not known that Shocky has 
 given his spare time to making outcasts feel that 
 God has not forgot. 
 
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 THE SHEPHERD OF GUADALOUPE 
 
 FIGHTING CARAVANS 
 
 WILD HORSE MESA 
 
 NEVADA 
 
 FORLORN RIVER 
 
 UNDER THE TONTO RIM 
 
 THE VANISHING AMERICAN 
 
 TAPPAN S BURRO 
 
 THE THUNDERING HERD 
 
 THE CALL OF THE CANYON 
 
 WANDERER OF THE WASTELAND 
 
 THE DAY OF THE BEAST 
 
 TO THE LAST MAN 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER 
 
 THE MAN OF THE FOREST 
 
 THE DESERT OF WHEAT 
 
 THE U. P. TRAIL 
 
 WILDFIRE 
 
 THE BORDER LEGION 
 
 THE RAINBOW TRAIL 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT 
 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE 
 
 LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS 
 
 THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN 
 
 THE LONE STAR RANGER 
 
 DESERT GOLD 
 
 BETTY ZANE 
 
 ZANE GREY S BOOKS FOR BOYS 
 
 ROPING LIONS IN THE GRAND CANYON 
 
 THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD 
 
 KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE 
 
 THE YOUNG LION HUNTER 
 
 THE YOUNG FORESTER 
 
 THE YOUNG PITCHER 
 
 THE SHORT STOP 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW 
 
RUBY M. AYRES NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap s list. 
 
 Ruby M. Ayres wrote fairy tales as a child but did 
 not start writing in earnest until she was about twenty- 
 five years of age. Today she is one of the most popular 
 authors along with Margaret Pedler and Ethel M. Dell 
 of the romantic novel of love and marriage. 
 
 MAN MADE THE TOWN 
 LOVE COMES TO MARY 
 IN THE DAY S MARCH 
 LOVERS 
 
 ONE SUMMER 
 
 LOVE CHANGES 
 
 LIFE STEPS IN 
 
 BROKEN 
 
 CHARITY S CHOSEN 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK 
 
THE NOVELS OF SINCLAIR LEWIS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap s list. 
 
 DODSWORTH 
 
 The story of a successful American business man who, having 
 retired, goes abroad with his beautiful but shallow wife in search 
 of the carefree happiness he had missed in his youth. 
 
 ELMER GANTRY 
 
 Elmer Gantry, hypocrite and voluptuary, is painted against a 
 background of church members and professing Christians scarcely 
 less hypocritical than he. In this book Sinclair Lewis adds a vio 
 lent stroke to his growing picture of materialistic America. 
 
 MANTRAP 
 
 A clever satire on the adventures of a New York lawyer seek 
 ing rest and diversion in the northwoods. Instead of rest he finds 
 trouble in the person of his host s wife young, pretty and flirtatious. 
 
 ARROWSMITH 
 
 The story of a country doctor whose search for truth led him 
 to the heights of the medical profession, to the heights and depths 
 of love and marriage and to final peace as a quietly heroic laboratory 
 worker. 
 
 BABBITT 
 
 Every man will recognize in the character of George Babbit 
 something of himself. He was a booster and a joiner, but behin. 
 all of his activities was a wistful wonder as to what life holds. 
 
 MAIN STREET 
 
 Carol Kennicott s attempt to bring life and culture to Gophe 
 Prairie and Gopher Prairie s reaction toward her teachings have, 
 made this book one of the most famous of the last decade. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YO 
 
 P 4 7807 
 

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