LIBRARY^ 
 
 UN:, . sirv OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 XX 
 
 "TURK
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS, O, ISRAEL!
 
 "TURK" 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 OPIE READ 
 
 Author of 
 
 The Harkriders, The Starbucks, Old Ebenezer 
 
 The Jucklins, The Carpetbagger, The Colossus 
 
 On the Suwanee River, Emmett Bonlore 
 
 A Tennessee Judge, My Young Master 
 
 A Kentucky Colonel, Len Gansett 
 
 The Wives of the Prophet 
 
 The Tear in the Cup and 
 
 Other Stories, Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 CHICAGO 
 LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1904, 
 
 By WILLIAM H. LEE, 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 Contents 
 
 PACK 
 
 CHAPTER I. Turkey Egg, 7 
 
 " H. Nick calls on Nan, ..... 18 
 
 " III. The revenge of Mose and Tab, ... 51 
 
 " IV. The smell of damp lime, ... . . 63 
 
 " V. Heard them talk, . . . . .77 
 
 ". VI. The robbery, . . . . . .91 
 
 " VII. Danced him down 109 
 
 Vm. The old rat, . . . .... 121 
 
 " IX. Together on a horse, . . . . 134 
 
 " X. A knock at the door, . . . 152 
 
 " XL They had come for him, . . . . 165 
 
 XII. Held her hand, . . . . 173 
 
 XIII. A shelterless flock, . . ... 181 
 
 " XIV. The gunpowder plot, . . . . 194 
 
 " XV. Making the rounds, . . . . .211 
 
 " XVI. The men with switches, .... 227 
 
 " XVII. Seeing the world, . . . . 239 
 
 " XVIII. The man in the high rig, .... 254 
 
 " XIX. A contract, . . . . . . 283 
 
 " XX. There by the cheerful fire, " . . . 296 
 
 " XXI. A pot hunter, 305 
 
 " XXII. Two reformers, ... . . 322 
 
 " XXIII. A poor boy's wallet, . ... . 333 
 
 " XXIV. The sword in the air, . . . . 343 
 
 " XXV. Did not beg for his life, . . . .356 
 
 XXVI. On the lake shore, . . . . . 366 
 
 " XXVII. Conclusion, ... 374
 
 "TURK" 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TURKEY EGG 
 
 HEN I told an old bookworm that 
 I intended to write a history of my 
 life, he smiled and said: "Well, you 
 are ignorant enough to make it in 
 teresting." Since then I have found out that 
 usually it is the learned that go off into the by 
 paths of speculation, whereas those not so well 
 trained mentally move more directly toward 
 the object aimed at in the beginning. But let 
 not ignorance congratulate itself, for in aiming 
 to tell its tale once ignorance not unfrequently 
 tells it twice; old Lack-Learning wabbles in 
 his gait and during a day's journey walks 
 twice as far as the athlete. An old actor 
 declared that it required almost a lifetime to 
 learn to be natural on the stage; and if this 
 
 7
 
 8 " TURK " 
 
 be true, how long must it take a man to be 
 natural with a pen! I suppose the best way is 
 to write as if the product were to be a letter, 
 to be read only by one person, a friend whose 
 nature you well understand. 
 
 I was born in a community of Kentucky 
 wiseacres. A wiseacre, as I now recall him, 
 was a man who observed but who did not 
 think. In a log schoolhouse near Blood 
 Spring, by the way I was taught to read; but 
 here I did not acquire sufficient skill to master 
 completely the pamphlet account of the tra 
 gedy that gave the spring its gory name. 
 The little volume, with cover as red as the 
 sumach's leaf in autumn, had been printed on 
 some obscure hand-press, and on one page 
 was an advertisement of a grand Whig rally 
 to be held near the spring and to be presided 
 over by Henry Clay. But as to the origin of 
 the name: One day in the early thirties a 
 school-teacher who had come from Massa 
 chusetts was detected talking abolition to the 
 negroes. Judge Grifficost, a Justice of the 
 peace who could hew a log smoother than any 
 other man in the county and who, when 
 pushed, could almost read and write, sent
 
 TURKEY EGG 9 
 
 word to the schoolmaster, whose name was 
 Mulligan, that he must hush that sort of talk 
 or the grass might forsake its native color 
 and turn red. Mulligan sent back reply that 
 he had framed a speech on the subject of 
 abolition and would deliver it on the follow 
 ing Sunday at the spring near the school- 
 house. Hereupon the judge forwarded 
 rejoinder that if Mulligan attempted such an 
 outrage upon the freedom and the decency of 
 the community, the spring would blush. A 
 crowd assembled. The speech was attempted; 
 and then two men stood waist deep in the 
 water, fighting with knives. Both were killed. 
 Before the sun went down .the spring had 
 received an enduring name. Many a time in 
 after life have I heard a man say, "Oh, you 
 can't scare me. I learned to read at 'Old 
 Blood.' I'll tell you that." And it was usu 
 ally sufficient to arouse sudden respect. 
 
 Yes, at Old Blood I learned to read, and 
 would soon have been put up into the cipher 
 ing class, but was taken away and bound out 
 to work on a farm. My education was 
 dropped for a number of years and was taken 
 up in prison, where I spent two profitable
 
 10 "TURK" 
 
 years, an academy where there were many 
 professors; but I am running ahead of my 
 story. 
 
 I was born small, grew up runtish, and was 
 so freckled that they called me Turkey Egg. 
 This was shortened to Turkey, and finally to 
 Turk. The community into which I was 
 taken after having been torn from school was 
 at least twenty-five miles away, and my only 
 consolation for the breaking of old ties was 
 that my nickname might not follow me so 
 far. But when, upon being asked, I informed 
 my new associates that my name was Lorenzo, 
 after a famous divine who had challenged the 
 devil to hand-to-hand encounter, a flame- 
 headed scoundrel spoke up and said: "Lorenzo! 
 Why, anybody can see your name is Turkey 
 Egg." And they shortened it to Turkey and 
 then to Turk. 
 
 At an earlier time a feud had left a blazed 
 trail through a generation that bore my 
 name Griffin; my father, two brothers, three 
 uncles, and, as old Squire Barton put it, a 
 whole hell's mint of my cousins had mumbled 
 their last words with their mouths full of dust. 
 Tradition, which personally I could not verify,
 
 TURKEY EGG 11 
 
 said that one of the Nesbitts was swinging me 
 by the heels to dash out my brains against the 
 corner of our burning house when my Uncle 
 Gabe "sieved" him with buckshot. Thus I 
 became so endeared to the rough old fellow 
 that he took my "raising" upon himself, and 
 in time sent me to Blood, his own alma mater, 
 where I remained until my patron was killed 
 from ambush, presumably by one of the 
 Nesbitts. 
 
 My only recollection of my mother is from 
 a pencil sketch, made by some adventurous 
 artist who must have been struck by her 
 appearance. She was killed by a Nesbitt 
 who, in the thick of the fight, mistook her for 
 a man; and they say that her slaughterer, 
 discovering the truth, humbly bowed to her 
 as she lay dying and begged her pardon. 
 Uncle Gabe killed him. 
 
 The farmer to whom I was bound had a 
 history. As a young man he was Professor 
 Walter Emory, in a college not far from 
 Louisville. Here he became enamored of a 
 young woman of the neighborhood and went 
 almost mad when another professor won her 
 and took her away. Being a man of devotion
 
 12 "TURK" 
 
 to knowledge and believing in its power, 
 Emory knew little enough of woman to swear 
 that his rival had won by superior learning. 
 On a veranda amid vines he had heard him 
 talking Aristotle to her. He heard her 
 replies, mumbled in a sort of dumb ecstasy, 
 and he cursed himself for not having made 
 more of a specialty of Greek. But when he 
 learned of his loss, he kicked his Greek books 
 out of doors, boxed the leather jaws of his 
 Horace, stabbed his mathematics with sarcasm 
 and betook himself to the woods. For a time 
 he worked as a raftsman on the Kentucky 
 River, striving to be ignorant; and later, when 
 he had inherited a few thousand dollars, 
 bought a farm among the hills. To physical 
 labor he devoted himself as if it were a sort of 
 revenge. In the society of an ignorant girl 
 he found a moiety of contentment and would 
 have married her, but a tobacco buyer, who 
 could but little more than read his own name, 
 took her away. As a consolation to this last 
 perfidy he went into the woods and with axe 
 and grubbing-hoe cleared up a piece of new 
 ground. And thus it was that he hated both 
 learning and ignorance, believing that between
 
 TURKEY EGG 13 
 
 the two there must be an honest medium. 
 Several years passed and this "honest me 
 dium" was found in the person and well-con 
 cealed mental graces of a Miss Louise 
 McWirter. They were married without any 
 great pretense of love, and settled on the 
 farm, there to look forward to whatever a 
 day might choose to bring forth. 
 
 I have never discovered who it was that 
 "leased" me to Emory. It must have been 
 the county, to rid itself of my keep. The 
 bond papers were never shown to me, and I 
 did not ask to see them. 
 
 Emory did not come after me. I was 
 brought in an ox-cart by an old fellow, who 
 won my respect when he showed me a scar 
 inflicted by a bear. We arrived late in the 
 night; but I was called early to begin my 
 labors, the setting out of tobacco plants, as 
 there had been a rain the night before which 
 rendered the ground suitable. The sun came 
 out hot, and I thought that before noontime I 
 should surely die. With me worked two 
 other hirelings, white men; for, as I very 
 soon discovered, Emory, being secretly an 
 abolitionist, would not hire slaves of their
 
 14 "TURK" 
 
 masters. Our dinner was brought out to 
 us by two girls in red calico; one fair-haired, 
 peeping shyly through glints of blue, the 
 other with a kink of black hair and eyes 
 that twinkled in a brown and, I thought, devil 
 ish dance. In my ignorance I remember to 
 have mused that she might be the mother of 
 a feud coming out of the far-off future. She 
 was the younger by eighteen months and they 
 called her Nan. Her sister's name was Amy. 
 And in contrast how gentle she was! So soft 
 of voice, so like a dove in first feathers, so 
 sympathetic as she looked at me, roasting in 
 the sun with the green gum of the tobacco 
 plants sticking to my fingers. But Nan she 
 laughed, put her basket on a stump, and 
 behind her lifted apron shook, peeping with 
 one eye and shaking again. How I hated 
 her! I refused to accept food out of her bas 
 ket, and I believe that I should have run away 
 had not the gentle Amy held me with a soft 
 and sympathetic look. Nan, the little wretch, 
 did not inquire my name. This was a disap 
 pointment, for I fancied that with "Lorenzo" 
 uttered pompously I could quell her. Through 
 that part of the country Lorenzo Dow had
 
 TURKEY EGG 15 
 
 preached; to the mourners' bench he had 
 dragged bullies, and with his own strong 
 hands had tied and whipped a wife-beater. 
 But Nan did not care to ask of me my name. 
 She discovered it for herself. She called me 
 Turkey and nodded again behind her apron. 
 When we had eaten, and when the girls had 
 gone back to the house, I asked one of my 
 companions to tell me what sort of a girl Nan 
 was, and without hesitation he spoke up: 
 
 "Just an every-day sort of she-devil." I 
 said nothing, knowing that he had told the 
 truth. He worked along the row, setting 
 plants into the steaming soil, and after a time 
 he added: "I ain't got nothin' ag'in children 
 as a general thing; but whenever the Lord 
 sees fittin' to take her off, I know of one feller 
 that won't complain. They say Emory hates 
 the world, and I reckon she's the outcome of 
 it. I don't mind a girl that's got mischief in 
 her, but Nan don't stop at that. She's mean." 
 
 Upon going to the house in the evening, I 
 saw Emory for the first time. He was gray 
 ish, wore a short beard, was hook-nosed, 
 wrinkled of brow, and bent in the shoulders. 
 Nan had his eyes; and in them there was
 
 16 " TURK " 
 
 always a fire, but never the glow of gentle 
 ness. His wife was a modest, refined and 
 most charitable woman, more cultivated than 
 he was aware of, and patient with him; and 
 that any one must have regarded as a great 
 virtue. I could not have told whence it came, 
 but there was a streak of arrogance in me. 
 So, when Emory looked at me as I stood in 
 his presence, I felt my resentment rising and, 
 looking into his eyes, which almost dazzled 
 me, I said: 
 
 "Sir, I learned to read at Blood." 
 Nothing could have more offended him. 
 The professor who stole the girl he had loved 
 was once a teacher at Blood. In college he 
 had boasted of it, had said that a Blood 
 Spring man was never known to quail, so in 
 my attempt to stand high upon my pride I 
 had fallen low. He looked about him, into 
 the corner, to the right and to the left, hunt 
 ing for a stick, and finding none, gazed at me 
 and said: "I ought to knock you down, you 
 impudent scoundrel." 
 
 "Walter, dear," his wife spoke up, "don't be 
 angry with the poor child. How does he 
 know of "
 
 , TURKEY EGG 17 
 
 "He knows enough to boast, and that is 
 sufficient. He ought to be cracked on the 
 head." 
 
 I heard Nan titter caught a glimpse of her 
 eye, and then I said: "Sir, when a Griffin is 
 cracked on the head, pistols bark on the hill 
 side like foxes." 
 
 "Why," he exclaimed, almost smiling upon 
 me, "the little freckled-face beast has spirit 
 in him. Come in to supper."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 
 
 HE NEXT day was Sunday. The 
 family was preparing to go to 
 church, a log meeting-house where 
 a gaunt expounder of a fiery faith 
 sent infant souls to hell. To be overlooked is 
 sometimes a kindness. I was not asked to 
 go; so, stealing forth with a book, I sat 
 beneath a tree in the yard and was laboriously 
 exercising the accomplishment acquired at 
 Blood when Nan spied me. Quickly she ran 
 into the house. Emory came out, clearing 
 his rough and rasping throat. 
 
 "What are you doing there?" he shouted 
 while yet he was some distance from me. 
 With a bow of respect, I answered that I was 
 reading. 
 
 "Don't give me any of your freckled nods," 
 he stormed. I arose, and now he stood near 
 me. "What are you doing?" 
 
 "Reading, sir," I answered, trying to look 
 martyr to learning 
 
 18
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 19 
 
 "Reading! Did I hire you for that? Why 
 did I hire you?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir, unless it happened that 
 you couldn't hire any one else." 
 
 His wife appeared in the door. "Walter, 
 we are ready," she called. "And let the poor 
 little fellow go with us if he wants to." 
 
 He turned about and looked at her. "Be 
 there in a moment," he said, and then he gave 
 attention to me. "I didn't hire you to read, I 
 can tell you that. Don't you know that nearly 
 every man who reads is a villain? Don't 
 you?" 
 
 "I haven't read enough to find that out." 
 
 "Well, I can tell it to you, and now that you 
 have found out, you needn't read any further. 
 Give me that book." 
 
 I handed it to him. He glanced at the title, 
 threw the volume over into the hog-pen, and 
 turning toward the house roared as he went: 
 "Children of the Abbey! Who the devil 
 brought that thing into this house?" Sud 
 denly Amy's face, pale and in fright, appeared 
 at the window. It was a sight so sad that I 
 looked away, and when he began to scold her, 
 I stopped my ears. Afraid that he might
 
 20 " TURK " 
 
 
 
 extend to me the revengeful courtesy of an 
 invitation to hear his sort of gospel, I leaped 
 over the fence and slunk off down into the 
 woods; and now I was at home, for my people 
 all were woodsmen, serving God best when 
 they were alone. It was said of my old Uncle 
 Simon that once when he had come up out of 
 the wilderness to attend communion, he seized 
 the wine cup as it passed, threw the wine into 
 the face of the minister and cracked him over 
 the head, thus showing to his followers that it 
 was not well to dispute with him upon the 
 minor points of the Last Supper. It was a 
 matter for shame, but secretly I admired 
 those boisterous traits, and more, perhaps, 
 now that I was a slave. The runt is likely to 
 hold in his breast the venom of a whole gener 
 ation; the hunchback with his wit is nearly 
 always a satirist; but, praise the Lord, though 
 under size, I was of fair shape and of bound 
 ing energy except when set to a work that I 
 despised. Much is it to my discredit; but on 
 this day, scorched with a master's indignity, I 
 believe that, had a highwayman come along 
 and offered me a horse and a pistol, I should 
 have gone with him to rob the rich. One
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 21 
 
 night I had dreamed that a miser's blood was 
 yellow, and for a time I felt that I was 
 tempted to find one and stab him to learn if it 
 were true. 
 
 Beneath a beech tree where the ground was 
 soft with moss, I lay down listening to the 
 stirring air that wooed me toward sleep. 
 Then forth from thickets came the shy 
 bird that sings only for himself, riotous in his 
 seclusion, not knowing that my thievish ears 
 drank up his music. A summer's cloud came 
 over, seen through half-shut eyes, and down 
 came a gentle shower, pattering on the thatch 
 of leaves. Up arose the sweetened mingling 
 of a hundred scents, elusive perfumes never 
 yet by man extracted from their native bloom. 
 The cloud passed away, followed by the misty 
 air; the sun blazed out again, and in the 
 creek, blue and noiseless near where I lay, I 
 heard the splash of the eager bass, leaping to 
 catch the fly; or was he, full of man-like 
 vanities, striking at the passing cloud? Then 
 all fell into delicious nothingness, into a 
 dreamless, miniature eternity. Had it not 
 been better, I have often wondered, to have 
 slept on in that mossy bed? Ah, but not until
 
 22 '" TURK " 
 
 we awake do we know that sleep has been 
 delicious. 
 
 I was aroused by Emory's harsh voice. "If 
 you want anything to eat, come on to the 
 house," he shouted, standing not far away. 
 I would have requested him to let me sleep, 
 for therein the bound boy is as free as the 
 maker of the law, but he yelled at me: "Get 
 up, you lazy thing, and feed the horses." 
 
 He turned away, and I scrambled to my 
 feet, dreading Nan's dancing eye and wonder 
 ing if Amy's face were still pale and fright 
 ened. But in the dining-room all seemed to 
 be in good humor. Emory and his wife were 
 discussing the sermon, and in his voice there 
 was now and then a tenderness when he called 
 her Louise. The girls were busy with frock 
 talk and ribbon comment, and thus I was 
 left to myself. The other hired hands had 
 gone "galling," as they termed it, granting 
 to me more freedom, but also more work. 
 
 How typical of the community was the 
 meal corn light bread, a cold boiled ham, 
 snap-beans boiled with a piece of bacon, and 
 buttermilk poured from a yellow, earthen 
 pitcher.
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 23 
 
 "Did you know that while you were asleep 
 the hogs got into the potato patch?" Emory 
 asked, fixing his schoolmaster eye on me. 
 Nan began to titter, but Amy looked sympa 
 thetic. Mrs. Emory sought to lead him back 
 to the sermon, proving to me that she was my 
 friend; but he waved his hand as if he would 
 brush away her voice. "Did you know it?" he 
 repeated. And by impudent courage I was 
 moved to answer: "While I was asleep I didn't 
 know anything." 
 
 He looked as if he would swallow me with 
 his eyes. "And did you know anything after 
 you awoke?" To Nan this was a bright wit 
 ticism, and she laughed at me, the little beast. 
 
 "Not very much, sir." 
 
 "Ah," he said, "how ignorance is sometimes 
 inspired with a truth! Have you any idea 
 what I'll do with you if you don't attend to 
 your duties better? Have you?" 
 
 In my ears there arose a sound like the 
 singing of a tea kettle. My blood was begin 
 ning to boil. I looked at him and I meant 
 what I said looked at him and replied: "You 
 may not have to do anything with me. When 
 the time comes I will kill myself."
 
 24 " TURK " 
 
 "Oh, Walter, Walter," cried the gentle 
 woman, "don't you see how you torture the 
 poor thing? Please don't. There, Turk, 
 don't don't." 
 
 She thought I was crying. God knows my 
 heart was far from weeping. The devil was 
 in my soul, a sharp case-knife within my 
 grasp, and I was hungry to cut my tormentor's 
 throat; but I looked at Amy. My hand 
 spread out upon the table. The knife seemed 
 to flee from me. "Learned to read at Blood," 
 he said, and was going to continue his torture 
 when his wife spoke up: "Walter, he can be 
 of a great deal of service to us. Let us treat 
 him kindly." 
 
 "Treat him kindly! Isn't that what I am 
 doing? I'm talking to him for his own good, 
 and not mine, I assure you. Kindly! Don't 
 we let him eat at the table with us? Is there 
 another family about here, in this the State of 
 Kentucky, that would seat hirelings with the 
 family? Treat him kindly, indeed!" 
 
 I slept in an attic at the top of one of the 
 wings of the spreading log house, in a room 
 all to myself, and for this I was humbly thank 
 ful. The furniture consisted of a tick stuffed
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 25 
 
 with straw, a bedstead made of oak saplings, a 
 chair with a wooden bottom and a lame back, 
 a barrel of carpet-rags, and my own box 
 painted red, perhaps in unconscious com 
 memoration of the fact that I had learned to 
 read at Blood. That evening when I went 
 upstairs, there on my box was something to 
 warm my heart to gratitude: a book, a simpli 
 fied volume of English history; yes, and beside 
 it lay a candle. Amy's sweet face arose before 
 me and in my heart I blessed her. But soon I 
 discovered that slyly must I indulge this new 
 luxury. Emory was possessed of the habit of 
 walking up and down in the yard until all the 
 rest were in bed, and a light in my room, I 
 knew, would bring his rebuking clatter upon 
 the stairs. The moon was shining, and at a 
 gable-end hole my window I watched him, 
 sometimes counting his footsteps, gazing at 
 him as he stood by the fence, wondering 
 if in his nature there were ever to be found a 
 soft side. Finally he went into the house. I 
 heard him kick off his shoes upon the bare 
 floor, and then I lighted my candle. On the 
 fly-leaf of my book was written in print letters 
 the words: "When you have finished this book
 
 26 "TURK" 
 
 make a cross mark on the smokehouse door 
 and I will bring you another one. Don't say 
 a word and don't thank me, 'cause if you do 
 you won't get any more books." Little angel! 
 For a time I could not see the printed page, 
 except in a fog; and then I could not read for 
 thinking of her. But thirst to know some 
 thing put an end to my musing and I bent 
 myself to the book, a sweet and to me a 
 revengeful task; for, pitying me, my old school 
 master had said: "There is but one man better 
 and stronger than another the man that 
 knows the most." I have lived to learn that 
 in the opinion of the world this is not true; 
 though to the bookish poor it may always 
 serve as a consolation. The university presi 
 dent delivers a lecture upon the subject of suc 
 cess in life, the end of which is to acquire the 
 bodily comforts of life. But if he believed 
 that learning were success, instead of pointing 
 to men who have made themselves "great" in 
 material things, he would point to the library. 
 In this, the summer time, my work on the 
 farm was desperately hard; but the knowledge 
 that in Amy and her gentle mother there was 
 sympathy for me gave me spirit, and spirit can
 
 "FOR A TIME I COULD NOT SEE THE PRINTED PAGE"
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 27 
 
 stand more taxation than bodily strength. In 
 those days we had no cultivators sweeping 
 two rows of corn at once. Down between the 
 rows we went with a single plow, two rounds, 
 four furrows; and when the corn grew high 
 enough to exclude the free circulation of the 
 air, the field was as hot as an oven. On the 
 morning after the gracious donation of book 
 and candle, I was plowing in a creek-bottom 
 field, when, turning around at me fence, some 
 one called to me. I looked up, and out of the 
 high corn in an adjoining field came slouching 
 a tall, "one-gallused," pale chopped, long- 
 necked young fellow. He came up to the 
 fence, put his chin on the top rail, looked at 
 me, ejected a yellow spray of tobacco through 
 his teeth, and said: 
 
 "You are workin' for them folks up yander, 
 I reckon." I told him yes; and lie looked 
 harder at me and spat again. "You are the 
 feller they call Turk." 
 
 "Yes, they call me that, but my name is 
 Lorenzo." 
 
 "Lo-Lo-Lo-whatzo?" he shouted, and to 
 prevent his falling with laughter, he clung to 
 the fence. "Whoop!" he cried, getting a bet-
 
 28 "TURK" 
 
 ter grip of the fence, "here is Lorenzo." I 
 began to feel about for a rail light enough to 
 wield, found one, and should have cracked him 
 on the head with it had he not changed his 
 insulting tune. 
 
 "Hold on," he cried, "I'm Nick Bowles, your 
 friend. I was just glad to see you, that's all. 
 Don't you want a feller to be glad to see you? 
 You are hired out, and so am I, and we don't 
 want to fight. But say now, Turk, don't come 
 tellin' me your names hold on, I won't do it 
 again." He stood back from the fence, grin 
 ning at me. I put down my rail, and he came 
 forward again. "How old are you?" he 
 inquired with so much of honesty in his voice 
 that I told him. 
 
 "Goin' on seventeen, eh? Did you ever 
 steal a horse? Hold on, now. You wouldn't 
 hit a feller for a little thing like that, would 
 you?" He looked at me as if he would charm 
 me over and then said: "I stole a horse not a 
 great while ago. It was on a Sunday and I 
 was goin' on to meetin' over at Old Blood " 
 
 "At Old Blood!" I cried, now interested. 
 "Why, I learned to read there." 
 
 "You did? Then I bet you would 'a' hit me
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 29 
 
 with that rail. But let me tell you: I was 
 goin' on to meetin', and the fellers with their 
 gals come a ridin' by, a splashin' the mud at 
 me, an' I says to myse'f, I says, 'Nick, ever'- 
 body but you is a ridin'. Whar's yo' hoss?' 
 Then I says to myse'f, 1 does, 'Ain't got none.' 
 Then somethin' else says, says it, 'Why don't 
 you git you one? They are plentiful enough.' 
 'That so?' says I, and then I begin to look 
 around, and when a feller's lookin' round for 
 somethin' to steal, it ain't never long till he 
 finds it. Well, I come along by a stable and 
 hearn a hoss stompin' inside, and I says, 'Nick, 
 that stomps like a fair artickel of a hoss,' and 
 that somethin' that was a urgin' me on says, 
 'Best in the land and a feller that has done 
 without a hoss as long as you have don't want 
 none but the best.' I opened the stable door 
 and looked in, and the hoss he sorter wunk at 
 me with one eye and says, says he, 'E-he-he- 
 he,' as if his friend had come to see him. And 
 he had, too, 1 tell you. And, sir, thar hung a 
 saddle and bridle right handy, and I bridled 
 him and saddled him and led him out, and he 
 capered in the sunshine. I got on him and it 
 'peared like his feet didn't tetch the ground,
 
 30 " TURK " 
 
 he was so anxious to travel. I had 'lowed I'd 
 go to church, but then I thought it wouldn't 
 look well goin' to church jest after stealin' a 
 hoss, so I struck out across the country. I 
 didn't have no money, but a feller with a good 
 hoss can always live, like a fightin' cock in 
 Kaintucky; so I was all right. Wa'n't old 
 enough to git married, but I was big shakes 
 among the gals. But one night while I was a 
 settin' up to a woman that would weigh about 
 two hundred and fifty and old enough for my 
 mother, a deputy sheriff he j'ined the com 
 pany and cut me out." 
 
 "What did they do with you" I asked as I 
 swung my plow around. 
 
 "With me? Oh, they lawed over me a 
 while, and one old lawyer got up and made 
 the jury cry and they turned me loose. And 
 I reckon now I'll walk for a while. Hold on a 
 minit. Air them gals up at yo' house big 
 enough for a feller to go to see? If they air, 
 I'll drap over. I'm a lady's man, me." 
 
 I told him that so far as I knew both were 
 big enough, but that Nan was likely to be his 
 choice. "Come over next Sunday and call for 
 her."
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 31 
 
 "Nan. Reckon I can ricollect her name. 
 Don't know the old man. Reckon he'd shy 
 at it?" 
 
 "Why, it would tickle him mighty nigh to 
 death." 
 
 "All right, I'll be there. Say," he called as 
 I started off down a corn row, "don't say 
 nothin' about the hoss. Some folks is mighty 
 easy prejudiced, you know." 
 
 I was about finishing that field, went over 
 into another, and did not during that after 
 noon nor indeed for several days see Mr. 
 Bowles; but the projected picture of his 
 appearance at the house to call on Nan, the 
 stinging nettle, was, in the dazzling heat of 
 the sun, a constant amusement and a lightener 
 of my toil. 
 
 My companions "in hire" were as stupid a 
 pair as ever cried "gee" to an ox. One was 
 Mose and the other Tab. Their other names 
 counted for nothing. Mose was characterized 
 by saying, "Wall, yes," and Tab by "Wall, 
 no." They slept in the barn, and, I believed, 
 shaved once a week with the point of a scythe. 
 I felt that they were not my friends. It may 
 be true that misery loves company, but misery
 
 32 "TURK" 
 
 to misery often proves a traitor; and I had 
 cause to believe that Mose and Tab, seeing 
 that I was none too well thought of by the 
 master, sought to advance their own interests 
 by dispraising me. Amy dropped a hint that 
 they had reported me lazy when alone in the 
 field. It may have been true that forgetfully 
 I sometimes halted to muse, to build a filmy 
 castle and with gauzy fancies to people it; but 
 my work showed for itself. Why is it that the 
 underling should be the underling's enemy? 
 I spoke thus to Mose, but he pretended not to 
 understand me. He ordered me out of his 
 chamber, the barn, came at me with an iron- 
 bound hame, and I would have stabbed him 
 with a pitchfork but that his partner seized 
 me from behind. I don't know what the out 
 come would have been, but just at that 
 moment Emory came upon the scene. 
 
 "What, scuffling here for amusement when 
 you should be at work?" he cried, mistaking 
 our purpose. "Turk, go to the house and 
 split wood to heat the oven. They are going 
 to bake bread." 
 
 Our master indulged the foreign custom of 
 baking bread in an oven out of doors, a sort
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 33 
 
 of light bread that I had never seen before; 
 our native product being of what they called 
 the salt-rising quality. And I was willing 
 enough to work about the house, for then I 
 caught glimpses of Amy's sympathy. I believe 
 that originally it was Emory's intention, in 
 keeping with his ancient revenge, to let his 
 daughters grow up in ignorance of all literary 
 graces, granting to them only common read 
 ing and blunt arithmetic; but while they had 
 not gone to school, he permitted his wife to 
 teach them. And she was indeed a rare gov 
 erness, for slyly she added many a mind-grac 
 ing conceit not thought out by her husband 
 traitor to learning. That morning I had made 
 a cross on the smokehouse door, and up to my 
 room I stole to note the change in my circu 
 lating library. Ah, and on my box there was 
 another book and a new candle. Amy came 
 out to show me something about the oven, 
 and with gratitude in my heart I began to 
 thank her. How awkward I was! "You are," 
 said I, "the most beautiful girl " 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't say that," she broke in, 
 her astonished eyes opening wide. 
 
 "But you are."
 
 34 " TURK " 
 
 "No, I am not. You are too too young to 
 talk that way," she said and blushed as if she 
 had surprised herself. "I don't mean that 
 anybody is old enough to say such things," she 
 corrected herself. "See, you have to reach 
 away in and rake out the ashes." 
 
 "Yes, I see. But who would be so kind to 
 me as you are?" 
 
 "Rake out the ashes. If father sees you 
 standing here he might scold me" 
 
 That set me to work. 
 
 Amy went into the house and pretty soon 
 Nan came forth, giggling at me. "You don't 
 know how to do anything," she said. "What 
 makes you so lazy ? " 
 
 "I am not lazy, Miss." 
 
 She made a mouth at me, stooped to spread 
 her short skirt upon the ground, mocked me 
 with a satirizing curtsy, and jumping up flew 
 into wild antics with a laugh. 
 
 "Do you belong to us?" she asked with 
 devilish innocence, and then with mouth open 
 whetted her cutting tongue against her teeth. 
 So angered was I that I couldn't speak. 
 ' 'Cause if you do, I'm going to sell you," she 
 went on; and then, turning from me, she
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 35 
 
 hummed a tune. Mrs. Emory came to the 
 door and called her. "Nan, come on to your 
 books. Amy is getting ahead of you again, 
 and you'll have to study at night to catch 
 up." 
 
 "I don't care, mother. I don't want to know 
 anything anyway Nobody but dull people 
 know anything." 
 
 "Come on in. You are bothering Turk." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not anything of the sort, am I, 
 Turk? I have just been telling him how well 
 he's fixing the oven, haven't I, Turk? Let me 
 stay here, please. Turk wants me, don't you, 
 Turk?" 
 
 She gave me an appealing look and a merry 
 twinkle of her eye, and making swift motions 
 with her little brown hands coaxed me into 
 lying. "She is helping me," I spoke up, 
 expecting the reward of a pleasant word; but 
 when her mother had withdrawn into the 
 house, the vixen said: "How easy it is for you 
 to tell a fib, Turk! I'll never believe anything 
 you tell me. Yonder comes father." 
 
 Emory came up while I was stooping to 
 blow the fire. "You are as slow as winter 
 sap," he said; and I know that Nan did not
 
 36 "TURK" 
 
 understand his meaning, but it was directed 
 against me, and that was meaning enough to 
 make her laugh. And then I began to laugh 
 laugh so that I spluttered upon the feeble 
 flame and put it out. I was thinking of the 
 coming visit of Nick Bowles. 
 
 It seemed that between Saturday and Satur 
 day was stretched a creeping age, but Sunday 
 came again. It was ordered that I should go 
 to church with the family, and I was afraid 
 that Nick might* be late with his call; but just 
 as we were ready to get into the barouche he 
 came up to the gate. I could have blessed 
 him for not greeting me as an acquaintance, 
 thereby making me a party to his impudence; 
 indeed, I would willingly have gone down on 
 my knees and tied his raw-hide shoe strings. 
 Was it consideration or forgetfulness? No 
 matter; it served. So, paying no attention to 
 me, he looked about him and bawled out, 
 "Whar's Nan?" 
 
 I did not see the others my attention was 
 fixed on Emory. He turned from a buckle 
 that he was fastening and, with the red from 
 the strain upon his face, confronted the visitor. 
 "What did you say, sir?"
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 37 
 
 "Which gal is Nan? I'm Nick Bowles, and 
 I've come to see her." 
 
 Emory was now desperately cool. It 
 seemed to me that suddenly I could see the 
 perspiration congeal upon him. "Turk," he 
 said, "look in the wagon body and hand me 
 that strap." 
 
 "It's not there; you've just buckled it," I 
 replied. 
 
 "What does this impudent puppy mean?" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Emory. I looked at Nan to 
 see her wither; but she didn't. Of what sort 
 of stuff was she made? She stood there 
 smiling, while her sister was confused and as 
 red as the sun-side of a ripening peach. 
 "Why, father, he's my beau," cried Nan. 
 
 "Beau!" thundered the professor, a name he 
 went by when his back was turned. "Beau! 
 Now by the Lord I'll beau him," and with that 
 he snatched up a hickory switch that some ox- 
 driver had dropped in the road. Mrs. Emory 
 ran forward with a plea for gentleness, but 
 the professor roared to drown her voice and 
 made a swirling cut at Nick. 
 
 "Quit that now," cried the beau, leaping 
 back and flopping over the fence. "Don't you
 
 38 " TURK " 
 
 want a feller to come to see yo' gal ? All 
 right, then, excuse me." He wheeled around, 
 dodging a flint that the professor sailed at 
 him, and ran off down into the woods. 
 
 For a time we drove along in silence, the 
 learned man, it seemed, too angered to speak; 
 but finally he turned about and, fixing his eye 
 on Nan, inquired if she had ever given that 
 lout the encouragement to call on her. 
 
 "I never saw him before, but I think he's 
 awfully nice looking," she replied. 
 
 "Never saw him before! Then why did he 
 come to call on you, a mere child ? Who is 
 he, anyway?" 
 
 "If I never saw him before, how do I know 
 who he is?" she answered, and I could hear 
 her titter as if she were in an ecstasy of fun. 
 And then, as if before the professor arose 
 anew the vision of Bowles, he snorted forth, 
 "Nice looking! If I ever saw a worse scare 
 crow, I'll give my soul to to " 
 
 "Walter," his wife broke in, "he must be 
 some poor, irresponsible thing escaped from 
 the county farm." 
 
 "Impudence from a jail," replied the pro 
 fessor. "And to think that I have a daughter
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 39 
 
 that would countenance such a thing. Oh, it 
 must be written in the book of Fate that I am 
 to be disgraced." 
 
 "Well, none of my people ever disgraced " 
 
 "Oh, I know all about your people, Louise; 
 but Fate, like a lop-eared hound, never dogged 
 your people." 
 
 In his anger the professor had about him 
 somewhat of majesty. The stoop straightened 
 out of his shoulders; he had not the blurred 
 eye that looked back upon a mottled past, as 
 seemingly was his wont, but the clear eye of 
 forward action. He challenged my respect, 
 for then I thought him brave; and in that 
 part of the country and among my own people 
 who had passed away, physical aggression was 
 the cap sheaf of merit. 
 
 Ah, the desolation of that day at church! 
 By the time we reached the meeting-house 
 the professor's anger was gone, having given 
 way to a return of his shoulder-bending creed, 
 and, I thought, in the mind of the learned 
 how monstrous a god can be! How learning 
 can warp and twist a simple faith into out 
 rageous meaning! I had heard that the 
 preacher was the output of a great school,
 
 40 " TURK " 
 
 greater, of course, than Old Blood; and while 
 outside the house, before the sermon was 
 begun, listening to some men talk of his great 
 power, I condemned myself for having sneaked 
 off down into the woods on the previous 
 Sunday. 
 
 Within the house a hymn arose and broad 
 ened into the outer air. From the woods men 
 came sauntering, the younger giving place to 
 the older, and all, at the door, gallantly mak 
 ing way for the women. For me there was no 
 seat, but near the door I had an advantageous 
 place to stand, on a block of wood; and I 
 waited, eager to catch the first inspired word. 
 But from the preacher the words did not come 
 with the ease and directness of inspiration. 
 In his selection of what he thought to be the 
 proper term, he hemmed and hawed; he 
 seemed to take up a word, weigh it, feel it to 
 determine its texture, throw it aside, and 
 fumble again in his knowledge-bag for 
 some other expression. He reminded me of 
 a farmer sorting out seed potatoes. He said 
 something about the never-dying fires of hell, 
 and the professor groaned "Amen." It flew 
 to my evil mind that he must be thinking of
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 41 
 
 Nick Bowles, and I clapped my handkerchief 
 to my mouth, but snorted through a hole, and 
 a man sitting near turned to me and said, "If 
 you can't behave yourself in the house of 
 God, go out into the woods of the devil." I 
 felt that I could not behave myself, and I 
 went out, though not into the woods of the 
 devil, but into God's woods whence came the 
 gospel. There I walked about, watching a 
 bee that labored on the Lord's day, culling 
 sweets from flowers that the Lord provided. 
 The preacher warmed up to his work, and 
 now his shouted words rang against the tim 
 bered hillside. His inspiration had come unto 
 him, and, no longer sorting seed potatoes, he 
 was sowing grain. But I was afraid to go 
 back into the house. I sat down beneath a 
 tree and with droning noises in my ears would 
 have dropped off to sleep, had not a voice 
 aroused me. "Well, how are you by now?" 
 
 I looked up, and there stood Nick Bowles. 
 He gave me a grin, sat down, pulled at the 
 grass, stuffed some of it into his mouth, 
 chewed it with a sideward motion of jaw, and 
 then, blowing it out, shook his head wisely and 
 said, "That's the way a hoss chaws."
 
 42 " TURK " 
 
 Trying to be serious, I asked him if he had 
 been in the house, and he shook his head. 
 "Too slow in thar for me. Swop knives with 
 you? No? Then less rassle. Bet you I can 
 fling you best two out of three. Don't want 
 to rassle? What do you want to do? Less go 
 down by the creek and grabble for fish. I 
 know whar's a yallerjacket's nest. Less 
 unhitch some feller's hoss and drive him over 
 it. Me and Bald Saunders done that onct, 
 and the hoss he run right into the meetin'- 
 house and the folks thought the devil had 
 come sure enough. Never had mo' fun in my 
 life crippled one feller. What do you say?" 
 
 I demurred to all of his offerings and then 
 he stretched himself out, put his straw hat 
 over his face, and said that he would take a 
 nap; but a memory of the morning came float 
 ing along, and he got up. "I reckon that old 
 feller don't want his gals to git married. He 
 come mighty nigh shavin' me with that flat 
 rock. That little one was Nan, wa'n't she? I 
 thought so. She's putty enough to take a fel 
 ler's appetite away from his vidults. Pops 
 them eyes of her'n like a whup. About when 
 is the best time for me to come ag'in?"
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 43 
 
 I told him that about noon sometime; and 
 then, seeing in my mind a dish sailing at his 
 head, I was seized with such laughter as was 
 almost enough to split me. He said that he 
 didn't see anything to laugh at. In his com 
 munity girls set out early. "And I reckon I'm 
 from as good folks as he is. My daddy killed 
 the last bear that was seed on Lickin River. 
 This feller needn't come a high-headin' it over 
 me." He arose and stood looking off toward 
 the church, and suddenly his eye seemed to 
 be illumined as if with a yellow flame. "Yan- 
 der's about as putty a dog as I ever seed. 
 Wonder who he belongs to? Wuth five dol 
 lars if I could git him down to Scoville auc 
 tion him off thar on the public squar. He's 
 gone around the house now. Say, these folks 
 don't hold revivals and shout. They ain't 
 warm enough. But you have to git religion 
 before you can join 'em. Ever git religion? 
 I got mourners' bench religion once. And I 
 reckon I would'er kept it till yit if I hadn't 
 seed a suckin' pig that sorter tempted me. 
 Sold him for fifty cents, and a preacher eat 
 the most of him." 
 
 "How did you feel when you thought you'd
 
 44 "TURK" 
 
 got religion?" I inquired, speculating upon that 
 mysterious spirit that I fancied to go about 
 from one camp-meeting to another, knocking 
 for admittance at the door of the soul. 
 
 "Oh, sorter warm under the collar, and then 
 felt like a kittin without claws was a pawin' 
 mQ in the bosom. Didn't hate nobody on the 
 face of the yeth. Would'er give back a 
 chicken or anythin' that I had stold. ' Feared 
 like the Lord thought as much of me as he 
 did of anybody, but I soon found out the fack 
 that this part of it wa'n't true. The Lord jest 
 nachully don't care nothin' fur me. Somehow 
 I set out wrong and didn't please him from 
 the start." 
 
 This would have given to the wise man now 
 thundering his eloquence in the house an 
 opportunity to show his pretended love for 
 the wayward and the humble. He could have 
 told Nick that in the merciful scheme of 
 redemption he was as precious as any man 
 enthroned, with head circled about with a 
 nation's gold; and I might have done the 
 same, but lacking words or even the knowl 
 edge of the Savior's democracy, I sat with 
 dumb ignorance sealing my lips. "It's a fack,"
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 45 
 
 Nick went on. "Every other feller that I ever 
 knowd had some sort of a chance, but the 
 Lord never give me none. Tuck my mammy 
 away from me when I wa'n't nothin' but a child 
 and left me a daddy that was drunk nearly all 
 the time." 
 
 'What became of your daddy?" I asked, 
 softening toward the poor wretch. 
 
 "Who? My daddy? Well, in the stillhouse 
 they got into a scrape and a feller killed him." 
 
 "Why didn't you kill the feller?" 
 
 "Who? Me? I wa'n't big enough." 
 
 "Is he livin' now?" 
 
 "Lemme tell you somethin'. The feller 
 wa'n't much better than a boy at the time, and 
 atter he was tried and turned loose, he tuck 
 on so that the folks raised money and sent 
 him off to school. Whar is he now? He's in 
 that house yander, preachin'. Lissun, don't 
 you hear him?" 
 
 His last words brought me to my feet. 
 Was it possible that the slayer of this poor 
 devil's father was so honored of man and of 
 the Lord? Ah, and why not? Paul was not a 
 slayer of drunkards, but he was a persecutor 
 of the saints; and perhaps in the thicket of
 
 46 "TURK" 
 
 this man's darkened soul a bush had caught 
 fire, and unto him a voice may have cried, and 
 he may have seen an illumined road leading 
 out of the jungle. 
 
 "Ought I to kill him now?" this yellowish 
 boy inquired. 
 
 "You mustn't ask me. I belong to a differ 
 ent breed from you. But the man that killed 
 my daddy couldn't preach. I'd set his church 
 on fire and shoot him as he run out." 
 
 He looked at me and grinned. "I reckon 
 you are a good deal of a young devil, ain't 
 you? That's what I've hearn. And I've 
 hearn, too, that the man that's got you said 
 he'd worry the most of it outen you. Hello, 
 meetin' is busted." 
 
 As my skill in driving was not to the notion 
 of the professor, I sat back in the barouche on 
 the way home. While the text and the sermon 
 were under discussion, I sneaked the oppor 
 tunity for a few words with Amy. I asked her 
 if the preacher were a good man, and she 
 looked surprised. "Why, of course," she 
 said. "What made you ask such a question 
 as that?" 
 
 "Because he killed a man."
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 47 
 
 "But haven't your people killed men?" 
 
 "Yes, but they didn't go about and preach." 
 
 "But wouldn't they have been better men if 
 they had?" 
 
 She was too much for me, and in deference 
 to her I bowed my head. The professor 
 looked back at me. "Talking about Mr. 
 Hoover, are you?" 
 
 "Talkin' about the preacher don't know 
 his name," I replied. 
 
 "Well, not knowing anything about him, 
 you have no right to discuss him." 
 
 "I might know somethin' about him without 
 knowin' his name," I ventured to remark; and 
 for a time the professor said nothing, looking 
 forward and giving his attention to a rough 
 place in the road. But when he had kept the 
 wheel safely out of a deep rut, he looked back 
 at me. "You heard of his killing a worthless 
 fellow named Bowles, I suppose. He was 
 hardly worth killing, but of course that was 
 neither here nor there, so far as the deed was 
 concerned. Previous to that time Hoover 
 was wild and worse than reckless. He neither 
 feared God nor respected man; but that trag 
 edy reformed him, and since then he has
 
 48 " TURK " 
 
 done a vast amount of good. And I feel that 
 surely his soul is elected to salvation, but of 
 course you don't know anything about that." 
 
 I was bold enough to reply to him, "Reckon 
 he'll be saved because he had a chance to live 
 and be sorry for what he had done. But how 
 about the man that was killed? He didn't 
 have any chance. Was he elected to salva 
 tion?" 
 
 He pulled his horses to skirt a mud puddle 
 and again gave attention to me. "Turk, you 
 are impudent. You haven't the intelligence 
 to understand, and when your little knowl 
 edge gives out, you supply its place with 
 impertinence." 
 
 "I don't think so," Mrs. Emory spoke up. 
 "His question is but natural, especially as it 
 has, no doubt, often been asked before; but I 
 am like Turk, for I should like to know what 
 has become of the soul of the man that had 
 no chance to repent." 
 
 The professor puffed up like a pouter 
 pigeon. "If I believed in the transmigration 
 of the soul," said he, "I should settle it that 
 the soul of that wretch Bowles is now in a 
 hog, one day to return to the pretense of man-
 
 NICK CALLS ON NAN 49 
 
 like shape and enter the body of a negro 
 trader." 
 
 "Walter," she cautioned him, "be careful 
 how you talk. Remember one of the aptest 
 of all quotations, 'Your words draw ears.' " 
 
 He whipped at a lagging horse and for a 
 time was silent; then he asked who had told 
 me of the preacher's "unfortunate affair with 
 Bowles." 
 
 "His son," I answered. 
 
 "Bowies' son? I didn't know he left a son. 
 Where does he live?" 
 
 "Off somewhere over the creek works in a 
 field that joins us." 
 
 "Why, I don't know but that I should like 
 to see him." 
 
 "You have seen him." 
 
 "Have seen him? When?" 
 
 "To-day, when he came over to call on 
 Nan." 
 
 Nan shrieked with laughter and clapped her 
 hands. The professor cleared his throat. "I 
 don't like the traps you set for me, sir." 
 
 "Walter," Mrs. Emory spoke up, "he didn't 
 set a trap for you. You set it for yourself." 
 
 "Louise," said the learned man, "you may be
 
 50 "TURK" 
 
 unconscious of the fact; but you are stimulating 
 rebellion in that boy. Turk, do you know 
 what rebellion is?" 
 
 Before I could answer, Nan giggled out, 
 "He knows what laziness is." 
 
 "I wasn't speaking to you, dragon-fly," said 
 the professor, reaching back and, with the tip 
 end of his whip, touching her dark curls. 
 "What is rebellion, Turk?" 
 
 "It's refusin' to do somethin' that somebody 
 wants you to do that oughtn't to be done." 
 
 He popped his whip. "Satan was without 
 a doubt one of the teachers at Old Blood." 
 And when we had gone a short distance 
 further he added: "While they are getting 
 dinner ready, you go round the field to see 
 that there are no hogs in the corn."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 
 
 HILE walking along a cattle path 
 crooking its way through weeds 
 that grew rank in the bottom, some 
 one called to me. I halted in a 
 cleared place, and out of the green jungle 
 came our hired men, Mose and Tab, both 
 drunk. They said something about having 
 caught me at last, and then stood leering at 
 me. I asked them what they wanted, and 
 they replied that I was the prize they were 
 after; and with that Mose seized me, while 
 Tab tripped me to the ground. I bit and 
 scratched, but it was of no use. "The little 
 devil's like a wild boar-pig won't squeal 
 nohow," said Mose, bearing upon my back 
 with his knees, tying my hands behind me 
 with his suspenders. "Oh, you'd make at me 
 with a pitchfork, would you?" 
 
 "With a shotgun when I get loose," I 
 answered, now lying still, knowing that it was 
 
 of no avail to struggle. 
 
 51
 
 52 " TURK " 
 
 "When you git loose," roared Tab. "All 
 right, when you git loose." 
 
 "What are you goin' to do with me?" 
 
 "Put you across a log," the brute replied, 
 tying my feet. 
 
 They carried me out into the woods, found 
 a log, and threw me across it. I heard them 
 cutting switches. And then without more 
 ceremony, they began to lash me. Let some 
 man that has stood at the whipping-post tell 
 of the agony I must have suffered; but the 
 log being small and my mouth biting at the 
 grass, I made no outcry. Within my breast 
 was a fury hotter than the sun which, pouring 
 down between two trees, baked the blood on 
 my back. A black hand seemed to grip at 
 my throat, and then I knew nothing. 
 
 When I came to, I was lying on my back, 
 untied. The sun was far over in the west. 
 Above me, on the dead prong of a lightning- 
 blasted tree, a rain crow was calling, and near 
 by a cow was ringing her bell. It was as 
 much as I could do to get up, and I staggered 
 when I arose. Twice I stumbled and fell 
 before reaching the road. Out in the road I 
 fainted into the darkest oblivion, and when
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 53 
 
 the light came back I was in bed, not in the 
 professor's house but in a cabin with rough 
 and unhewed walls. An old man came to the 
 bed and looked at me. "What's your name, 
 little feller?" he inquired. I told him that 
 they called me Turk, but that my name was 
 Lorenzo Griffin. I looked hard at him to see 
 if he smiled, but he did not. On his old, 
 shaven face there was the divine light of pity. 
 "I knew your father and nearly all your 
 people," he said. I asked him if any of my peo 
 ple had ever killed any of his, and he smiled. 
 
 "No," he said, "we were good friends. Your 
 father was the only man I ever swopped 
 horses with that didn't cheat me. Turn over 
 here and let me get at you a little better. I 
 bathed your back and got your shirt off the 
 best I could. Somebody has given you the 
 cross gridiron, I tell you. Who was it?" 
 
 I told him as he was bathing my wounds, 
 and he spoke words of pity. "But you must 
 return good for evil," he said with a low 
 chuckle; and when I told him that I hoped to 
 live long enough to see those devils hanged, 
 he replied that the hanging of such scoundrels 
 was always a good.
 
 54 "TURK" 
 
 The candle on a table at the head of my 
 bed began to splutter, and with his fingers he 
 snuffed it, but in doing so plucked too deep 
 and put out the light, but in a big fireplace, 
 where a kettle bubbled, there was a bed of 
 coals, and here, stooping and blowing till his 
 face was red, he lighted the candle and 
 brought it back. He propped me up as best 
 he could, and bringing on a tin platter some 
 sort of stew from a pot, commanded me to 
 eat. I did, and with a relish, for the stew was 
 most savory. 
 
 "Soft-shell turtle," he said. "Caught 'em 
 down on the sand-bar. The creek empties into 
 the river not far from here, and there's a big 
 stretch of sand finest place you ever saw for 
 turtles. And it will be quite an easy place to 
 bury those fellers when you catch 'em high 
 water will come along and take 'em away, and 
 then you'd be through with 'em forever. 
 Good straight-out limbs along the bank to 
 hang 'em on, too." 
 
 "What is your name?" I inquired, "and why 
 do you live here all by yourself?" 
 
 "Why, I don't live by myself. I've got an 
 old dog, if a wild hog hasn't killed him; and,
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 55 
 
 as for my name, why, I'm Champ Jones. 
 Ever hear of me?" 
 
 "I don't recollect." 
 
 "Of course not. You were too young. Ha, 
 it was a long time ago; not as long as my dis 
 grace has made it seem, but a long time for 
 all that. Once in our community we had a 
 strange sort of commonwealth's attorney. 
 He prevailed over a jury and sent me to the 
 penitentiary for letting a man strike me with 
 a cowhide." 
 
 "For letting a man hit you!" I cried out, for 
 the moment forgetting my wounds. 
 
 "Yes. At an election one day a man struck 
 me with a rawhide. Well, I killed him, and 
 this prosecutor so warped the jury that I was 
 sent to the penitentiary. Everybody said it 
 was an outrage; but when I came out with the 
 lime smell of the prison on me, men shied off, 
 it seemed to me. It takes a long time to get 
 off that smell. When we have measles after 
 being pretty well grown, if we take a slight 
 cold we can taste the disease for years after 
 ward; and the penitentiary leaves a smell. 
 Do you smell it?" 
 
 I ought to have told him that in the kindli-
 
 56 ' TURK " 
 
 ness of his nature I scented a sweet flower, but 
 did not know how to tell him. "Ah, you do 
 smell the prison," he said, before I could make 
 any sort of a reply. I protested that I did 
 not, and was so earnest that he must have 
 been pleased, for he brought me more of his 
 turtle stew and urged me to eat it. Now, in 
 this after-day, I can see him as he stood there 
 in the light of the candle, looking down upon 
 me, and I wonder at the enlightened and the 
 barbarous state of our society. On the one 
 hand orators whose words rumbled and 
 echoed throughout the country Clays and 
 Breckenridges, the eagles of statesmanship 
 soaring high; on the other hand fierce bru 
 tality and bloody violence. But with it all, 
 the high and the low, there was an eloquence 
 in daily life among the high, the pure, the 
 noble; and with the low was a bold assertion 
 in whose energy there was a sort of barbaric 
 music. The schoolhouse was not indeed, as 
 now, the nursery of mathematics and the 
 sciences; but was a place of declamation. 
 Champ Jones had been a political orator. 
 
 "So," said the old man, taking the tin plat 
 ter and putting it on the candlestand, "I live
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 57 
 
 out here where very few people can see me. 
 I have a field sheltered by the woods all 
 around. I raise enough to eat; and first and 
 last I do a good deal of trapping along the 
 river, sell skins and buy what few things I 
 need." 
 
 "I would like to come and trap with you, till 
 I get enough money to buy a gun," I said; and 
 the old fellow's eyes twinkled, 
 
 "Oh, you're thinking about the wretches 
 that whipped you, eh? Just as well take your 
 mind off them; they are gone, and maybe 
 you'll never see 'em again." 
 
 In substance I told him I hoped that God 
 would not so desert me, and he laughed and 
 reaching over put the hair back out of my 
 eyes. "Ah, it would be a great man that could 
 forget a whipping, greater than we have 
 among us, my son." 
 
 "A coward with no recollection," I replied. 
 Tenderly touching my breast, he said that I 
 had spoken beyond my years. "It strikes me, 
 Lorenzo, that you are a pretty bright boy; but 
 the Griffins were all as sharp as steel traps 
 and as ready to snap." 
 
 "Tell me how you found me," I asked of him.
 
 58 "TURK" 
 
 "Oh, asleep beside the road. I was in a 
 carryall, driving along, thinking about the 
 peculiar stench of the cell, when I saw you 
 lying there asleep; and when I drew up and 
 took a good look at you, I thought your 
 dreams must be red, for you were covered 
 with blood. I thought then it was a case of 
 murder, as in fact it was almost; but I touched 
 you, and you groaned, and I put you in the 
 wagon and brought you here. I know how to 
 treat gashes, for I saw them inflicted in prison, 
 and in the hospital I watched the doctors take 
 care of them. So, you work for Emory?" 
 
 "Yes, but I'd rather live with you and catch 
 minks." 
 
 "But I heard he had you bound to him. In 
 this instance, my son, better not break the 
 strings of the law. But whenever you want to 
 see me, you shall be welcome; for, as I say, 
 your father was the only man that could have 
 cheated me in a horse trade and didn't. It's 
 getting along toward ten o'clock, and now you 
 go to sleep and early in the morning I'll go 
 over and tell Emory." 
 
 I could not argue him out of his notion. 
 His chin was too square and his nose too
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 59 
 
 prominent; so I dropped off into a sleep 
 almost as profound as death itself, and when 
 I awoke the sun was shining and the professor 
 was entering at the door. I nodded, but he 
 made no sign at all. His eyes were kindly, 
 though, and he sat on the edge of the bed 
 and felt my pulse. Old Champ came in and 
 stood looking on. 
 
 "Mr. Jones, I am much obliged to you," said 
 the professor, taking his fingers off my wrist. 
 "The poor fellow might have died." 
 
 "Would you have cared, sir?" I asked; and 
 old Champ chuckled, but the professor did 
 not even smile. "Turk," said he, "you should 
 not have put that question. I am a Christian, 
 sir." 
 
 And then Champ said something that 
 tickled me. "Elected or a continuous candi 
 date?" 
 
 "Elected, sir," said the professor, bowing to 
 him. "We have God's word and should know 
 when we are saved." 
 
 "Yes," drawled old Champ, "but I don't 
 think it's time to holler till all the returns are 
 in." 
 
 "Sir," said the professor, getting up and
 
 60 "TURK" 
 
 straightening himself, "I see that you are one 
 who believes in falling from grace." 
 
 "Peter did," Champ replied. 
 
 "Sir," declared the professor, rising on his 
 tiptoes, "I am here to refute that assertion. 
 Peter did not fall." 
 
 "Didn't? Well, he staggered mightily." 
 
 "Mr. Jones, I am astonished at your want of 
 information. Let me elucidate." And then 
 followed more than an hour of controversy, 
 such in its zeal and newly awakened vehe 
 mence as might have characterized the early 
 days when men were making ready to sail 
 westward for the sake of conscience. I was 
 hungry; I wanted more of that soft-shell turtle 
 rather than the hard shell of doctrine; but 
 they kept on, defending point after point. 
 Forgetfdl of me, sometimes one man would 
 stand with a foot on the bed, pounding his 
 knee, and sometimes they would walk so 
 heavily up and down the room as to jar the 
 house. Finally I whined out something, and 
 the professor replied, "We'll attend to your 
 case presently, sir." 
 
 From the window the sun removed his bar 
 of light, but the combatants had caught new
 
 THE REVENGE OF MOSE AND TAB 61 
 
 breath. I wondered that old Champ could be 
 so inconsiderate; but in those days to attack 
 a man's religion was to blow an icy breath on 
 his soul, and he must needs warm up in 
 defense. More than a dozen times were they 
 on the point of calling each other liars, but 
 suddenly Champ broke off and spoke of some 
 thing to eat, and instantly the troubled waters 
 fell smooth. 
 
 "Why, yes," said the professor, "I wouldn't 
 mind. Turk, do you think you could eat 
 something?" 
 
 I told him that I could eat the horn of a 
 bull, and rebuking me he added: "I hope 
 you'll not forget to profit by what you have 
 heard this day. You are now old enough to 
 pay attention to such matters. I have 
 brought the buggy for you, and and " He 
 looked about to see if Champ were listening, 
 but the old man was busy at the fire "and as 
 we drive along I shall recount the gist of my 
 argument." 
 
 We had more of the turtle stew, and then I 
 got out of bed, faint and weak, but able to 
 walk with help. I must have come near 
 bleeding to death, and some of my wounds
 
 62 ; " TURK " 
 
 bled anew when I attempted to walk; but 
 they were given another treatment with some 
 sort of wash and dabbed with cotton lint, and 
 then I was put into the buggy. Hoping to 
 draw the professor from all memory of the 
 gist of his argument, I began to talk as I had 
 never found freedom to talk before. In 
 detail I gave him an account of the whipping 
 and, as well as I could, told of my agony; but 
 we had not gone far when he broke in with 
 his "gist." It was a long drive, and at the end 
 of it stood Nan with her dark eyes mocking 
 me.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 
 
 T WAS not many days before I was 
 able to work again, but as long as I 
 could I let my scars prolong my 
 vacation from labor. Kindness 
 was so novel to me that I enjoyed it as a maid 
 would a romance. Not to build a fire in the 
 oven, not to follow a plow through the rank 
 and stifling corn, but to sit in the shade, 
 listening to the humming birds amid the 
 trumpet-vines clinging about the door, was a 
 luxury, soured only by the thought that soon 
 it must be given over for scoldings and for 
 toil. 
 
 The professor had reproached me for my 
 ignorance; and yet he looked with no favor 
 upon a book if I held one in my hand. How 
 many people there were who, advocates of 
 the abolition of slavery, believed in a peas 
 antry, though it was more of a disgrace and 
 not unfrequently as much of a hardship to 
 
 be a "white-trash" as a black slave! Strange 
 
 63
 
 64 " TURK " 
 
 atmosphere was that in which we lived; so 
 strange, indeed, that the Harvard student of 
 to-day may not without much study compre 
 hend it. 
 
 About this time there fell, like a brilliant 
 bloom, the seventeenth birthday of Amy. 
 The mother pleaded that she must be sent off 
 to school, to be finished; but for what back 
 woods purpose it was not easy to determine. 
 The family was proud, and in those days there 
 were but three vocations open for woman: 
 marriage, which was merely natural; painting, 
 which meant avowed admiration and secret 
 sneers; and writing, which meant publication 
 in the weekly newspaper if not crowded out 
 by the flaming political screed proving that 
 the candidate from the adjoining county was 
 a liar and not above the unpardonable sin of 
 horse stealing. In our neighborhood there 
 were no "available" young men. There were 
 hard-working young fellows, with sharp eyes 
 for the good points of a nag and gentlemanly 
 quick of trigger; but to educate Amy for one 
 of them was out of all question. While the 
 discussion was warm in the house, Nan came 
 out with her low rocking-chair and her tat-
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 65 
 
 ting, and sat down near me. "How much 
 longer are you going to sit about the house 
 and listen to every word that's said?" she 
 asked without looking at me, but busy with 
 her thread. I can see her now as she then sat 
 there, in a blue gingham frock, checked apron, 
 white stockings, and "store" slippers, a white 
 spool in her lap. And it seemed to me 
 that a light, following her shifting eye, fell 
 luminous upon her work. I told her that it 
 should not concern her. Then she looked at 
 me, devilish beauty that she was, and muffed 
 up like an angry kitten. 
 
 "It does concern me," she said, unmuffing as 
 it were. "I don't want you sitting about here 
 listening all the time." 
 
 "I haven't listened to anything you said." 
 
 "No," she snapped. "I'm afraid to say any 
 thing when you are around. You'd go away 
 and tell it." 
 
 "Yes, to your sweetheart, Nick Bowles," I 
 replied with a forced laugh that must have 
 sounded like the distressed croak of a toad, 
 trod upon. 
 
 She made a mouth at me. "You are the 
 ugliest brat I ever saw in my life," she said,
 
 66 "TURK" 
 
 and leaning back she laughed till the pink of 
 a sunset gathered in her cheeks, but for its 
 very beauty I despised it. The little cat was 
 so pretty that each expression which, like 
 gleaming water, rippled over her face, was a 
 pain to me. Cowed beneath her scorn, I 
 whined that I was not as ugly as Nick. And 
 then she laughed again. "Oh, you're a hun 
 dred times uglier. And you let folks whip 
 you. Nick wouldn't do that. He would kill 
 'em." 
 
 'There were two against one, both men," I 
 cried. "But never mind, I will bring you 
 their scalps." 
 
 "You couldn't bring me the feather of a 
 yellow-hammer." 
 
 "I will bring you four ears and bloody your 
 tattin' with 'ern." 
 
 Some one called Nan, and she got up, mock 
 ing me, and went into the house. Presently 
 Amy came out and soothed me with a look. 
 "Oh, Turk, the best thing has happened," she 
 said. I asked her what it was. "Why, it is 
 settled that I may go away over to Walnut 
 Hill Seminary and board there. Think of 
 that."
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 67 
 
 "The best thing! I think it's the worst," I 
 replied from the depths of selfishness. 
 
 "Now, Turk, don't talk that way. You 
 wouldn't want to see me grow up in ignorance, 
 would you?" 
 
 "You are about grown now and you ain't 
 ignorant. You ain't goin' to be tall; and if a 
 woman ain't tall it don't make so much differ 
 ence if she don't know much." 
 
 "Oh, what an idea! Father hates the name 
 of a college, and if they called this a college 
 he wouldn't let me go there; but it is a col 
 lege, though. They are going to make me 
 some nice dresses, as soon as they sell the 
 wheat; and off there, away from this old log 
 house, I shall be somebody, and when I come 
 back " 
 
 "You won't speak to me," I broke in, feeling 
 that I was to lose a friend. 
 
 'Oh, yes, I will; for by that time you'll know 
 something, too; mother says nothing can keep 
 you from getting an education I heard her 
 tell father you were naturally set that way." 
 
 "But how am I to get the books? When 
 you are gone, who will care?" 
 
 'Father has a whole lot of books locked up,
 
 68 " TURK " 
 
 and the key is on the mantelpiece under the 
 clock. But school doesn't open until fall, and 
 a good many things can happen between now 
 and then. Here comes father." 
 
 Hoping thereby to win a few more days of 
 rest, I asked the professor to give me again 
 the gist of his argument with old Champ; and 
 so pleased was he that I was awaking to the 
 interest of my soul that he patted me on the 
 head, and for more than an hour granted me 
 the honor of his company. 
 
 Mose and Tab had robbed the house of a 
 few trifling articles before we returned from 
 church, and not since then had they been seen 
 in the neighborhood. But hoping that they 
 were somewhere to be found, I armed myself 
 with an old pepper-box pistol that I found in 
 a closet and set out to look for them, praying 
 that the Lord would grant to me the delight 
 of riddling them with slugs. The "gist" had 
 assured me of at least three days more of 
 idleness. 
 
 On one of my excursions I chanced to come 
 upon the deep-wooded domain of old Champ. 
 A wind was blowing and the boughs of great 
 oaks swept the roof of his house. He was sit-
 
 69 
 
 ting in the door, scraping a powder horn, as I 
 turned a corner of the cabin, and shuffling to 
 his feet he gave to me a welcoming hello. 
 
 "Come right in, Turk; glad to see you as if 
 I'd lost a horse. Sit down over there on that 
 candle-box. Haven't got any turtle, but I'll 
 tell you what's roasting there in the fire, plas 
 tered with mud and covered with coals a 
 young wild turkey. Didn't get off his roost 
 quite early enough this morning and I shot 
 him. What's that thing you've got a-bulging 
 out there?" I showed him my pepper-box, 
 and he laughed. "Why, you might shut your 
 self inside of a house and you couldn't hit the 
 wall with that thing. The only way to kill a 
 man with it would be to ram it down his 
 throat and let him die of indigestion. Well, 
 sir, I'm pretty happy to-day. I think the lime 
 scent is blown away haven't sniffed it since 
 day before yesterday. And I'm beginning to 
 feel a good deal like a gentleman. But with 
 the lime smell on him a sensitive man can do 
 nothing. It bows him over, it steals in at his 
 nostrils and it wakes him out of a sound sleep. 
 I've had it choke me out of a pleasant dream. 
 What a memory an old nose has! It remem-
 
 70 " TURK " 
 
 bers a scent long after the ear has forgotten a 
 tune. It brings back a scene when the eye 
 has grown blind with age. Sometimes there 
 comes to me the faint smell of a geranium 
 leaf; and then I hear a. voice, feet music and 
 see a beautiful girl and a ball-room but the 
 lime smell always kills it. If it hadn't been 
 for the lime smell, I should have married that 
 girl should have been in Congress these 
 many years, my son. I am telling you so you 
 may avoid it. Throw your old pepper-box 
 away. Look out for the lime smell." 
 
 "I would rather have the lime smell stick to 
 me all my life than to know them hounds are 
 alive," I replied. 
 
 The old man shook his head, took up a stick 
 and raking away the coals, began to tap upon 
 a lump of baked clay. "That turkey must be 
 about done. Ah, you may think you would, 
 sonny, but you wouldn't. A man can learn to 
 stand hardship, but not shame. In the peni 
 tentiary, I didn't mind the work. It was a 
 relief, for it claimed a part of my mind; but 
 when I went back into the cell God!" 
 
 "The law wouldn't do anything with me for 
 killing those devils."
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 71 
 
 "You never can tell, sonny. That's what I 
 thought. There may be in the neighborhood 
 the most no-account fellow you ever saw in 
 your life. Nobody cares for him; everybody 
 wants him out of the way; but get into a row 
 and kill him and as like as not here comes 
 some man that's kin to him, hires a strong 
 young lawyer that is keen for a reputation, 
 and away you go. Keep on the safe side; 
 keep your nostrils free for the perfumes of 
 the field. Now I'll set the table." 
 
 From against the wall he drew forth a large 
 box, spread it with the libelous editorials of 
 the county paper, put on tin plates, tin cups, 
 knives and forks, and then raked his turkey- 
 lump out of the fire and cracked it. The odor 
 arising was to a keen appetite sweeter than 
 the old fellow's perfumes of the field. When 
 we had picked the bones, he threw them to a 
 gaunt dog that stood drooling at the door, and 
 after dozing for a few moments in his chair, 
 muttering of odors in his sleep, he awoke with 
 his old eyes bright. "Just that sort of a nap 
 does me more good, sonny, than to lie down 
 and snooze for two hours. A long sleep in 
 the middle of the day sets the muscles, like an
 
 72 " TURK " 
 
 old fox that rests too long after being chased; 
 but a wink or two seems to temper the sinews 
 like a piece of steel heated to a cherry red 
 and dipped lightly into clear rain water. By 
 the way, how does our elected brother feel 
 since I gave him the truth the other day? 
 Did he acknowledge that I touched him under 
 the shirt?" 
 
 I didn't want any more "gist." I wanted, 
 rather, to hear the old man tell of his sojourn 
 in the penitentiary; it had a sort of charm for 
 me. So, afraid that all the pros and cons 
 might be presented anew for my judgment, I 
 told him that the professor had been much 
 impressed; and in fact this was true, though a 
 falsehood the way I told it. And about this 
 time, I don't know but at this very moment, 
 came to me a sad truth, that no matter how 
 humble the position in life, truth is often a 
 Coriolanus with which one may banish him 
 self. At this time, there in the old man's 
 cabin, I did not know enough to employ simile 
 and to speculate. I simply felt the unfortu 
 nate truth and acted upon it; but I did not 
 accept it without protest. I thought that the 
 fault lay with me rather than the world, and
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 73 
 
 felt an inward soreness, a fresh bruise, to 
 think that, more or less of a rascal, I could 
 never be honest. 
 
 "The idea that a man can be beyond the 
 reach of sin!" said Champ, sitting with his 
 legs apart, his hands between them, slowly 
 turning his thumb. "My son, have you ever 
 heard the professor say anything on the sub 
 ject of slavery?" 
 
 "If I had, I wouldn't tell you," with blunt- 
 ness I replied, and was afraid that I had 
 offended him; but he smiled at me. 
 
 "That's right; don't get him into trouble. 
 And I reckon now I can trust you. A man 
 that thinks must talk to somebody, a child if 
 no one else. All thinking and no talk is 
 stagnation to the soul. I have heard it hinted 
 that the professor is an abolitionist, and if 
 there should get out any direct proof of it, 
 there'll be trouble enough lurking around the 
 corners of his house. Did you ever see a 
 paper called the New York Tribune? I don't 
 suppose you ever did. Well, I've got that old 
 battered chest back there full of 'em. A 
 friend in Illinois sends them five or six at a 
 time. It wouldn't do to have it sent directly
 
 74 "TURK" 
 
 to me from the publisher. Men who never 
 owned a slave and who never can, would 
 howl around me like wolves and string 
 me up for less than a copper cent. The 
 South has got her slavery and her religion 
 mixed." 
 
 "The South got the slaves from the Yan 
 kees," I replied, retailing the fag end of an 
 argument potent in those days. 
 
 "Oh, I see where you stand." 
 
 "I don't want a nigger running over me." 
 
 He gave me a pitying look. "Error caught 
 you early, my son. And I suppose that in 
 your mind that assertion I won't call it a 
 thought that assertion overrides all prin 
 ciple. The founder of my religion I'm a 
 Methodist in Georgia, away back in 1737, 
 raised his voice against slavery, and pointed 
 out the fact that eventually it would prove 
 the greatest evil that ever fell on any 
 country." 
 
 "It's a wonder they hadn't killed him," I 
 said. 
 
 'Ah, but at that time he was under a law 
 not swayed by politicians. Ah, Lord," he con 
 tinued, "trouble is stewing, and there's even
 
 THE SMELL OF DAMP LIME 75 
 
 many an old man living to-day that may see 
 the rills of the South red with blood. But 
 what did the professor say?" 
 
 "About slavery? I told you I wouldn't tell." 
 
 "Oh, no, about my argument." 
 
 "I don't recollect, but but " 
 
 "But you know he was stirred. All right." 
 Getting up, he took a newspaper from the 
 mantelpiece and unfolded it. "I see here by 
 Prentice's Louisville Journal that Cassius Clay 
 has had another fight cut a man's collar 
 bone in two with a bowie-knife. I heard him 
 speak once at Mt. Sterling. He's opposed to 
 slavery, you know, and there had been a 
 threat that he would be taken from the ros 
 trum and scourged through the streets. But, 
 bless you, he put two derringers and a bowie 
 on the stand in front of him and said, 'We 
 shall now in a dispassionate manner proceed 
 to examine a question that has been forced 
 uppermost in the public mind.' There were 
 hisses and groans, but not as many groans, I 
 warrant you, as would have been heard if his 
 enemies had tried to pull him down. My 
 son, what are you going to make of yourself?" 
 
 "A lawyer," I answered.
 
 76 "TURK" 
 
 "A lawyer, and carrying that thing there to 
 pepper the law?" 
 
 Taking out my pistol, and holding it on 
 my knee, I replied: "I've got it loaded with 
 sugared slugs, and will sweeten the law." 
 
 "Ah, you are apt; you can dodge a point 
 well enough to make a lawyer. But remem 
 ber my God, that smell has come again! 
 Don't you smell it, the damp lime? Go on 
 away, Turk, I'll be no companion for you now." 
 He led me to the door, and looking back from 
 the woods, I saw him popping his head, like 
 an old dog, sneezing.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 
 
 T WAS the next day, I think, when 
 the Rev. Mr. Hoover, our minister, 
 called, to scan the plan of salvation 
 and to eat gooseberry preserves. 
 Still free of the field, I wore a white shirt and 
 was permitted to sit at the table with him. 
 Toward the ministry in general I was doubt 
 less hardly fair. Preachers must have angered 
 me with their white hands and their starch. 
 In my mind there was a vivid picture, caught 
 early in life, of a lowly man, blazing forth in 
 godly wrath, scourging the money changers 
 from the temple. Mr. Hoover looked like a 
 changer of money, but, mind you, I acknowl 
 edge that I may have done him wrong. 
 
 At the table he asked me if I attended Sun 
 day school, and my master answered for me : 
 "He hasn't been able of late. Two scoundrels 
 that I had working for me caught him, tied 
 him and whipped him until he was almost 
 
 77
 
 78 "TURK" 
 
 dead; but to-morrow I think he will be able 
 to resume his duties." 
 
 I caught Nan's sharp glance, felt it pierce 
 me like a needle; and then I looked at the 
 preacher. Was he smiling at me? "Were 
 you a martyr to opinion?" he asked, and then 
 passed his plate to receive the wishbone of a 
 "dominecker" rooster. 
 
 Again the professor was kind enough to 
 answer for me. "No, they had a dispute over 
 a minor question." 
 
 "Turk tried to kill Mose with a pitchfork," 
 Nan spoke up, and the preacher's hand, lift 
 ing a cup, was seized with a sudden trem 
 bling. 
 
 "My son, that was bad," he said. "No mat 
 ter how just your cause, blood is hard to wash 
 off. Who are your people?" 
 
 I told him, and he left off eating to look at 
 me. "Ah, a troublous stock. When I was a 
 wayward boy, I admired your father as he 
 stood in the street of Scoville, shooting down 
 the Nesbitts." 
 
 "Turk is the only one left," said Mrs. 
 Emory. 
 
 "Ah," replied the preacher, "and we must
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 79 
 
 be careful of him. Were you at church last 
 Sabbath?" 
 
 How I hated to hear any one say Sabbath! 
 In the sound of the word there seemed to be 
 narrow-mindedness and oppression. "I was, 
 sir, but I couldn't get a seat." 
 
 "But you heard something of the sermon, I 
 hope." 
 
 "Yes, sir, until I went out into the woods, 
 and then I talked to Nick Bowles. He is the 
 son " 
 
 "Turk!" shouted my master. 
 
 "Nay," said the preacher, "let him speak. 
 I didn't know what had become of the son of 
 my unfortunate victim. Does he live in this 
 neighborhood? Is he poor? Ask him if he 
 will be so merciful as to call on me. And 
 when you see him, give him this." Reaching 
 over he dropped a twenty-dollar gold piece at 
 my plate. "Tell him that I will work for him 
 day and night; say that he must leave off 
 work and go to school." 
 
 ! took the money and looked at the man. 
 At that moment his face was nobly lighted. 
 In his countenance was a memory made 
 sublime by repentance. Out of my eyes
 
 80 ' TURK " 
 
 gushed the tears. Mrs. Emory put her arms 
 about me, and, poor outcast, I sobbed in her 
 lap. But the devil would not long stay away. 
 I sneaked out ashamed of myself, and when I 
 saw Nan, flashing in the sun at the corner of 
 the house, I cried out that if she laughed at 
 me I would tear her to pieces. 
 
 She didn't laugh somewhere about her she 
 had a pin-head heart, and for the first time 
 she spoke to me in kindness. She came for 
 ward with her hand stretched out, and upon 
 the palm lay a silver quarter. "Give this to 
 that poor boy, too," she said, but I scorned 
 her offering. 
 
 Mr. Hoover called me, but I ran away, off 
 down into the woods and, to harden myself, 
 viciously cut the word "hell" in the bark of a 
 beech tree. Into a tangle of green briars I 
 crept and lay down on the ground, now secure 
 from sight. Presently I heard footsteps on 
 the dry leaves, heard a stick crack, and then 
 voices reached me. My master and the 
 preacher were coming. Beneath a tree near 
 by they halted, talking low and earnestly, and 
 peeping from my ambush I saw them making 
 many gestures. Closer yet they came, sat on
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 81 
 
 a log almost at my elbow, and talked; and 
 their subject was abolition. 
 
 The professor held that it was the duty of 
 the God-fearing ministry gradually to educate 
 the people out of their cruel narrow-minded 
 ness toward an emancipation of all slaves; but 
 the preacher shook his head and over his 
 countenance there passed a hurried darkness, 
 like the fleeting shadow of a hawk's wing. 
 
 "No, that has been attempted," he said, 
 "and with frowns and cold shoulders, empty 
 pews and threatening letters, the servants of 
 mercy have been driven from the pulpit. No, 
 that will not do." 
 
 "But," insisted the professor, "how are we 
 to reach the reason of the masses?" 
 
 "First give reason to the masses and then 
 reach it. But where no reason exists, none 
 can be reached. Let abolition steal slyly into 
 the schools. Let it loiter among the types of 
 the local newspaper." 
 
 "Ah, but the schools are jealously guarded 
 and every ignorant eye is a censor of the 
 press. Wisdom's eye may be blunted by the 
 lamp, but the eye of ignorance is always 
 keen."
 
 82 " TURK " 
 
 I did not wish to hear more. I felt that I 
 was a thief. But was I to get away without 
 being seen? Slowly an opening was made in 
 the leafy and thorned wall, and through it I 
 crept. The professor saw me, but quickly 
 turned his eyes away. 
 
 "What noise was that?" the minister 
 inquired; and as I sneaked away I heard the 
 professor answer, "Only a hog in the briars." 
 
 Knowing that my vacation was not to be 
 prolonged beyond that afternoon, the re 
 mainder of the day was devoted to a renewal 
 pf my almost hopeless search for the two 
 brutes, Mose and Tab. I went out to the iron 
 furnaces, five miles away, believing that pos 
 sibly they might be found among the laborers, 
 and there I closely studied each smoke-black 
 ened countenance. Farther up the creek 
 valley I went, among the charcoal burners, 
 inquiring here and there, but gathered no 
 news of my brace of scoundrels. Then I 
 went home to meet my disgrace. On the 
 grass near the door my feet made no sound, 
 and as I approached I heard the professor 
 talking to his wife. It seemed that he had 
 just entered the apartment.
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 83 
 
 "Is Mr. Hoover gone?" Mrs. Emory 
 inquired. 
 
 "Yes, we parted in the woods just now. 
 Where is Turk?" 
 
 "I haven't seen him since dinner. Do you 
 want him?" 
 
 "Less than ever. Crouching in a briar 
 patch, he heard us talk, and the vicious little 
 brute " 
 
 I stepped across the threshold. "I am hearin' 
 you talk again, sir," I said, and while yet his 
 countenance was lighted with surprise, I con 
 tinued: "I didn't crawl into the briars to hear 
 what you said; I was there before you came, 
 and I got away as soon as I could. If you 
 think I'm a tattle-tale, whip me worse than 
 your hired devils did, and throw me to the 
 hogs. You and the preacher ain't the only 
 men I've heard talk that way, and don't you be 
 worried. Nobody could get out of me what 
 you said." 
 
 'Walter," his wife spoke up, "I tell you this 
 ill-favored boy has many a manly trait." 
 
 'Turk," said the professor, "give me your 
 hand." I did so, and drawing me close to 
 him, he looked down into my eyes. "I have
 
 84 "TURK" 
 
 had little cause to believe in man and no cause 
 whatever to believe in you," he said, slowly 
 squeezing my hand till I could hardly bear 
 the pressure, and then giving it a sudden 
 release, "but I am going to believe in you. 
 And after this you are not to work merely for 
 your food and clothes. I will pay you eight 
 dollars a month." 
 
 So overwhelming was this information that, 
 unable to thank him, I ran out of the house and 
 hid myself in the althaea bushes, afraid that 
 Nan's mocking eye might see my earthly 
 pride. 
 
 "Are you trying to catch lightning bugs?" a 
 voice inquired, and there was Nan, dancing 
 on the dark sward. "Oh, don't you wish I was 
 going off to school instead of Amy? Don't 
 you, now?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered, coming sullenly out of 
 the bushes. 
 
 "You think she's prettier than I am don't 
 you?" 
 
 "A heap, and better, too." 
 
 She laughed and danced on the sward. 
 The wind stirred, a bough of a great oak 
 waved, and a flood of moonlight fell upon her,
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 85 
 
 an illumined witch come to snare hearts and 
 to set her feet upon them. And then dark 
 ness fell as if from the black leaves, a white 
 smile gleaming last like a slow dying flame. 
 
 "But I will learn more at home than she can 
 at school," she said. "I will learn and shame 
 you with it. I will talk big like the preacher 
 so you can't understand me, and I will laugh 
 at you and you will sneak off into the woods 
 and hide. Have you given that money to 
 Nick?" 
 
 "I haven't seen him." 
 
 "Well, when you see him, give him my love. 
 His hair don't look like hay and he hasn't got 
 freckles all over his face like somebody I 
 know." 
 
 Now more than ever was I determined to 
 rob the professor's book-chest. With the 
 raiment of the wise would I clothe my insignifi 
 cance. Now had I an additional incentive 
 would learn as a spite to offset a spite. The 
 least comely in all of the ages have been the 
 scholars. The ancient bearer of the inkhorn 
 was by physical impediment shut out from the 
 brilliant honors of the tournament. The 
 hunchback was forced into wit.
 
 86 "TURK" 
 
 Early the next morning I went back into the 
 corn field. The sun was blistering. I had 
 forgotten my salaried elation, grumbling that 
 my condition had not been above the neces 
 sity to labor. Along the road, happy youths 
 were riding, and in my sight they were envi 
 ously glorified; for could they not hunt or fish 
 as whim inclined them? Could earth afford 
 more joy than that which fell to their lot? In 
 their fields the negroes were working. Like 
 the lordlings of the middle ages, these scions 
 were in no need of education. Was not their 
 intellectual awkwardness esteemed as a care 
 less grace? In my pocket there was gold, 
 intended, it is true, for another; but was it not 
 sufficient to take me far beyond slavery into 
 a land which, I had heard, honored the toil of 
 the white man? To obscurity and to igno 
 rance there sometimes came intelligence of 
 what the world was doing; and I had heard 
 of a rail splitter who, though lowly born in my 
 own State, had gone forth to a land more lib 
 eral, and there with his genius, with learning 
 ravished from the chance-acquaintance book, 
 with wisdom swallowed while learned men 
 slept, he had shamed the degrees of colleges
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 87 
 
 and gathered a harvest of the hearts of men. 
 This twenty-dollar gold piece would take me 
 to the scene of his inspiring will ah, but could 
 I, like unto this man, go forth with the shield 
 of honesty and the sword of truth? 
 
 Off on a hill where the corn was low, I saw 
 Nick lagging behind his plow, and I re 
 proached myself for not having sooner hunted 
 for him to discharge my trust. Into the low 
 shade of an alder bush my horse poked his 
 willing head, and leaving him thus I crossed 
 the field, and from beneath a cool maple at 
 the fence I called Nick when he had reached 
 the end of a row. He came, whistling a 
 "Come-all-ye" tune, halted to throw a clod at 
 a lizard on a rail, and then slouched up to the 
 place where I sat on the grass. 
 
 "What do you want?" he inquired, turning 
 loose all holds and falling on the ground. 
 "Want to run away and go seein? If you do, 
 I'm with you." 
 
 "No, I've come to bring you something." 
 "A biscuit with sugar on it? I wish you had." 
 "Something better than that, Nick." 
 "Don't see how it could be better unless 
 it's a knife."
 
 88 ' TURK " 
 
 I took out the gold piece. "Do you know 
 what this is?" 
 
 His eyes sparkled. "Golly, where did you 
 steal it?" 
 
 "I didn't steal it come mighty nigh it, but 
 didn't. Mr. Hoover was at our house yester 
 day and he sent it to you." 
 
 He got up. "What, to pay me for my 
 daddy? You take it back to him and tell him 
 to go to hell with it." 
 
 "No, Nick, he didn't send it that way, and if 
 you'd seen him you would have been sorry for 
 him. He wants you to come to see him, and 
 he will take you from work and send you to 
 school." 
 
 I held out the gold piece let it fall upon 
 the palm of his hand, and turning it over and 
 looking at it he said, "Let's take it and go and 
 get drunk and go up the creek and git into a 
 row with the McLane boys. What do you 
 say?" 
 
 "No, you must buy clothes with it and then 
 go to see the preacher." 
 
 "And let him shut me up in a schoolhouse? 
 Not much." 
 
 "Don't you want to go to school?"
 
 HEARD THEM TALK 89 
 
 "Who? Me? Well, I reckon not. But if he'll 
 let me kill snakes and fight bumble bees, I'll 
 j'in him. Wait a minit. If I'm goin' to do 
 much gallin' round the country I'll have to git 
 some clothes." 
 
 "Nick, I think he'd like to make a preacher 
 out of you," said I, studying him. 
 
 He squealed like a two-year-old colt. 
 "Make a preacher outen me! Why, he's a 
 Presbyterian, and that sorter doctrine is a 
 little too much like shuckin' dry co'n for me. 
 If I was to preach, I'd want to stir 'em up an' 
 hear 'em shout. Say, if I put some good duds 
 on an' come over Sunday, do you reckon that 
 old professor would fling another rock at me?" 
 
 "No, if you come back he'll treat you all 
 right." 
 
 "And give me fried chicken and potatoes 
 with white gravy on 'em? Blamed if I don't 
 come." Some one shouted to us. "There's 
 old Sarver hollerin' for me to go to work." 
 He started off, but halted and looked back. 
 "Say, believe I will go over and hear what the 
 preacher has to say for himself. Don't 
 believe it would be much wusser in school 
 than out here in this hot sun."
 
 90 " TURK " 
 
 "Wait a moment. I told you just now I 
 come mighty nigh stealin' that money, and I 
 did. I was about to run away with it and go 
 off somewhere and be somebody." 
 
 "Well, why didn't you? Don't reckon I 
 ever would have know'd the difference. Why 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "Because I never could have respected 
 myself." 
 
 He threw up his head like a chicken swal 
 lowing water, and laughed. "Well, who's 
 goin' to respect you a plowin' over thar like a 
 nigger? Them high flyers a gallopin' along 
 the road?" He started back toward me. "I'll 
 give you half of it." 
 
 "No, I won't take it." 
 
 "Well, mebby over at the preacher's house 
 I can steal you one. Good-bye and much 
 obleeged to you."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE ROBBERY 
 
 WAS honest enough to give to Nick 
 his money, but that night I was 
 enough of a thief to steal three 
 books from the professor's chest, 
 and with spiteful Nan in my mind I read until 
 my cancHe ends gave out and then went to 
 bed, to be called a moment afterward, it 
 seemed. 
 
 We were giving to the corn a final plowing, 
 and by daylight I was in the field. In place 
 of the two runaways, an old man had been 
 hired to work in the garden; but as the needs 
 of the corn were pressing, he was sent out to 
 plow. During two hours of one forenoon the 
 professor had lent his hand to the plow, but 
 in the torrid heat he fretted and fumed till I 
 was glad when he went back to the house, 
 relieving me of the distress of hearing his hot 
 puffs and sweaty lamentations. 
 The old hired man was inured to the sun, 
 
 and with a slow horse he sang psalms up and 
 
 91
 
 92 " TURK " 
 
 down the rows. A veteran of the Mexican 
 War, he drew a pension, and prayed that the 
 Lord would forgive his covetousness in look 
 ing forward to the coming of the money; but 
 when it came, it was his habit to get drunk 
 every night until his means to buy liquor were 
 exhausted, and then he would swear allegiance 
 to temperance. 
 
 When I pointed out the place where the 
 villains had whipped me, he said that I ought 
 to feel that my suffering was for a good cause ; 
 but when asked what cause could possibly 
 have been served, he broke into a psalm and 
 sang his way across the field. He was the 
 possessor of an old horse pistol, relic of his 
 exploits in the war, and he broke off in the 
 midst of his sacred chanting to tell me that 
 with his "fuzee" he had killed three Mexicans 
 at one shot. Then, more than ever, I 
 yearned to own the weapon. He told me 
 that, of course, the pistol was almost as dear 
 to him as the blood of his heart or the mem 
 ory of his prowess, yet he would give it to me 
 if I would sneak over to a distillery five miles 
 distant from our place and steal for him a jug 
 of whisky.
 
 THE ROBBERY 93 
 
 Of course I knew that a theft was a theft. 
 If he had asked me to break into a store and 
 steal a bottle of whisky, I should have said 
 him a sarcastic nay; but somehow the stealing 
 of a jug of liquor from a distillery seemed to 
 be different. During all one afternoon I 
 mused over it, and at night he brought out his 
 pistol, and its brass mountings gleamed in the 
 candle light. He let me take hold of the old 
 monster, and I looked into its black bore, 
 cocked it, and even the resistance offered by 
 its strong spring was a keen pleasure. The 
 old man said that he would never advise the 
 shooting of men; but if two men had tied him 
 and whipped him, he knew of nothing more 
 appropriate than to put about a teacupful of 
 slugs into that pistol and sweep them off the 
 face of the earth. But it was wrong to think 
 about such things, and then he gave me a few 
 staves of a psalm. I wanted him to let me 
 take the pistol to bed with me; but with as 
 solemn a countenance as I have ever seen 
 worn by mortal man, he said that the dear old 
 fuzee had not for many a year been bedfellow 
 to any one save himself and might awake feel 
 ing strange in the night. I told him that I
 
 94 " TURK " 
 
 didn't believe I could steal the whisky until 
 Saturday night. 
 
 "S-h-e-e, never talk of stealing," he said. 
 "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; 
 but you mustn't speak of stealing." At the 
 time I thought that he had given a most apt 
 quotation, and meekly bowed my head. "Far 
 be it from me to council you to evil," he went 
 on, taking the pistol and rubbing its brass 
 with the sleeve of his shirt. "But it would be 
 easy enough to go over to Horner's stillhouse 
 Saturday night and bring away a jug. Why, 
 old Horner himself told me that he didn't 
 expect anything else. At the north end of 
 the house he always keeps a row of jugs cov 
 ered with straw puts 'em there for his neigh 
 bors." 
 
 "You shall have one Sunday morning," I 
 said, and he whistled a mellow tune, hushed it 
 with opening wide his mouth, and then said, 
 "Ah, but don't think you have stolen it. 
 Think that you have neighbored it away from 
 where it wasn't expected to remain." 
 
 Shrewd fox was this old man Ridley. His 
 "profession" was that of a cobbler, and on his 
 low bench he had caught many of this world's
 
 THE ROBBERY 95 
 
 villainous thoughts floating close down to the 
 ground, but age came on and he could not see 
 to wax in his bristles nor to sew, and now he 
 was the roustabout of circumstances. 
 
 That night I could scarcely sleep for think 
 ing of the pistol. Dozing off, I would dream 
 of it, and its gleaming brass would dazzle me 
 awake; and the next day I was stupid with 
 my work. Two days were to be worn away 
 before the coming of Saturday; but with tell 
 ing of his exploits in Mexico, the old man 
 lightened the time, and at last Saturday's sun 
 arose. 
 
 At dinner time the professor told me that I 
 might knock off the afternoon, and through 
 the sawing blades of corn I ran almost breath 
 less to beg for Nick a like half-day's freedom. 
 In a weedy yard surrounding an old log house 
 I found him beneath a tree. His master, old 
 Sarver, had planned to go a-fishing, and Nick 
 was keen to go with him; but when I unfolded 
 the bright tapestry of my scheme, he shouted 
 to the old man, "Don't want to go fishin', Mr. 
 Sarver. Me an' Turk are goin' to church over 
 at Sunset." The prospect of stealing some 
 thing won him in an instant, and his shrewd
 
 96 " TURK " 
 
 mind suggested that we would better go 
 before nightfall and familiarize ourselves with 
 the surroundings. 
 
 "But," he added, "we mustn't let anybody 
 see us hangin' around thar. If they do, they'll 
 know who took the licker." 
 
 "But it won't be exactly like stealin'," I 
 replied, attorney to my conscience. 
 
 "Of course not," he said, "but old Horner 
 always wants to know who he lends his whisky 
 to." 
 
 The first few steps I took toward the still- 
 house were like walking through nettles, and 
 I have since wondered that a boy so reared 
 should have had any conscience at all; but my 
 people, though blood-spilling, must have had 
 a pride in their honesty. At the creek, how 
 ever, I left behind all regret and merrily 
 danced along the road. Were there ever 
 before so many birds to sing onward so foul 
 an errand? The summer was in the full blaze 
 of its glory. The trunks of dead trees, which 
 in winter stood bleak, were now clothed with 
 flowering vines; the summer grape was turn 
 ing purple, and red haws, already resplendent, 
 were dazzling in the sun. In the shade the
 
 THE ROBBERY 97 
 
 dust was cooling to our bare feet, and laugh 
 ing we ran from one shade to another, our 
 hearts seeming to bound like rubber balls 
 bounced along the ground. To encourage me 
 and to make the time happier, Nick told me 
 that he thought he knew where my two whip- 
 pers were hidden; and in fancy I saw myself 
 creeping upon their retreat, to blow them 
 riddled into eternity. In a spring house we 
 found a jar of buttermilk, drank what we 
 could and poured the rest into the little 
 stream to astonish the minnows with a novel 
 overflow; and further on Nick wanted to set 
 a straw-stack afire, but I held him back. We 
 met a young steer, pretended that he was a 
 wild animal, and stoned him bawling down 
 into a ravine. 
 
 Along came a boy in a wabbly carryall 
 drawn by a mule, and seizing hold of the 
 spokes we brought the creeping chariot to a 
 standstill. The boy lashed at the mule, but 
 the sullen beast was more than willing to 
 stand, as it was in the shade. Nick told the 
 boy that if he would stand up and shout that 
 we could whip any two young fellows in the 
 country we would suffer him to go on; but the
 
 98 " TURK " 
 
 boy, crying out that he would see us damned 
 first, cut at us with his whip. Thereupon we 
 waved a salute with our straw hats and cheered 
 him, and ashamed of our cowardly conduct, 
 we rewarded him with a broken Barlow knife 
 and a leather string. 
 
 And now we began to tiptoe about stealthily, 
 our actions sweetened with the fear of dis 
 covery; for we were in the neighborhood of 
 the stillhouse. Nick knew its exact location, 
 and through thickets and by many brambly 
 ways he led me, going in an opposite direction 
 as often as toward the place, I am sure. With 
 mysterious maneuver he was deepening a 
 thievish delight; but at last, crouching behind 
 a log and then peeping over it, he pointed out 
 the place, a low log-house at the base of a 
 rocky hill. Closer we crept, stealing from 
 tree to tree, and now lying on the ground we 
 saw a man closing the door. He locked it, 
 shook the chain and padlock, and went away, 
 fortunately not coming in our direction. The 
 sun was down, but the moon was full to give 
 us light and sometimes to scare us with shad 
 ows. Near the north end of the house was a 
 small window with a wooden shutter, and we
 
 THE ROBBERY 99 
 
 kept our eyes upon it till darkness blurred it 
 from sight. It was not in the moon-flood, and 
 at this we were pleased, for in the shadow our 
 undertaking was more fearful and therefore 
 more enjoyable. Nick whispered that the 
 time was up, and forth we crept from our 
 hiding place. Over at old Horner's house, 
 across a ravine, a light gleamed from a win 
 dow, and anon a dog barked. Was the beast 
 set to watch the distillery? No matter, we 
 were geared for it now, and to the house we 
 went with a determination worthy if more 
 worthily employed. The wooden shutter was 
 old and frail. With a stone we broke it, and 
 the stone fell within; but as the floor was 
 earthen there came forth no alarming sound. 
 Most eager and accommodating thief, Nick 
 did not ask me to crawl through, but told me 
 to lift him up. I did so, and he slipped in like 
 an eel. The dog barked louder was coming 
 nearer, and, with the prospect of a fight, I 
 gathered up a club and waited for him. Pres 
 ently something appeared at the window; not 
 Nick's face, but a jug. 
 
 "Take it out, and I'll go back and find 
 another," he said. "We'll want two."
 
 100 " TURK " 
 
 I took the jug, a gallon in size, and waited. 
 Peeping for the dog, I saw Horner's door 
 open. The old man came out and called to 
 the dog: 
 
 "Git him down, old boy." 
 
 The dog came on bow-wowing. I ran back 
 to the window, snatched the other jug, and 
 told Nick to get out as quickly as possible. 
 But with no one to hold him up, it was not so 
 easy. And here came the dog. I seized my 
 club again and stood at the corner of the 
 house. 
 
 Nick began to whine, "Don't leave me." 
 
 "Trust me," I replied, raising my club. 
 
 Around the corner came the dog, and I 
 struck him on the head. The blow did not 
 knock him down, but howling he ran back 
 toward the house; and then I heard the old 
 man yell, "Fetch my gun here quick, some 
 body." 
 
 By this time Nick's head and shoulders 
 appeared, and I pulled him out. 
 
 "Catch up with me," shouted the old man to 
 some one who was bringing his gun, and away 
 we went through the woods, each with a jug. 
 Fleet of foot, we knew that it might be easy
 
 THE ROBBERY 101 
 
 to leave our pursuers far behind; but, afraid 
 that the dog might track us, we ran into a 
 creek and for a long time followed the stream. 
 It was evident that old Horner did desire to 
 know who borrowed his whisky. We had 
 heard negroes talk of eluding bloodhounds, 
 and coming out of the creek we swung on 
 grape vines to break the scent, and sometimes 
 climbed up one tree and going out on the 
 branches descended another. With our jugs, 
 which never once did we think of throwing 
 away, it was hard to do this; and once I fell 
 ten feet or more, and Nick cried, "Look out 
 there, Turk. You'll break that jug." After 
 a two hours' flight we regarded it safe to rest, 
 and this we did on a knoll whence we could 
 see in every direction. 
 
 "These things were filled for to-morrow," 
 said Nick, stroking his jug. "Old Horner 
 sends 'em to Scoville and peddles 'em like 
 watermelons. Did you ever have a better 
 time than this'n?" 
 
 "Don't believe I ever did," I replied, think 
 ing of the old "fuzee." 
 
 "Well, you do as I say, and you'll always 
 have a good time. Golly, they drove this
 
 102 " TURK " 
 
 corn-cob stopper in here tight. Now she's 
 out." 
 
 "What are you goin' to do?" I asked. 
 
 "Goin' to drink one of these here jugs up. 
 That's the reason we got two. Didn't you 
 ever drink any licker?" 
 
 "No, never did was always afraid of it." 
 
 "Well, you ain't lived none yit. Here, take 
 a pull." 
 
 "Nick, I'm almost afraid. Won't it make 
 us drunk?" 
 
 "Wall, what do they make licker for? Why, 
 a man never does have no sense till he gits 
 drunk once. If he don't git drunk, he never 
 knows whether he ought to drink or not. If 
 you've got anythin' on yo' mind, drink an' it 
 will go away. A man is putty much what he 
 believes himself to be, and whisky makes a 
 feller think all the land he tramps on belongs 
 to him. Take one pull anyhow. You 
 wouldn't throw me over after I stuck to you, 
 would you?" 
 
 I took the jug and turned it up. I shall 
 never forget the face of that moon. One 
 moment it was splendid, and then I saw it 
 water-eyed. The liquor burnt me, but I
 
 THE ROBBERY 103 
 
 ah-hahed, said it was good and passed the 
 jug to Nick. He took a drink and declared it 
 as mild as maple sap. Suddenly my mind 
 seemed to break away from rotting strings 
 that hitherto had been holding it. Upward 
 my fancy shot as if it would find habitation 
 among the stars, and I reached forth my 
 hand for the jug. In the next drink there 
 was not so much fire, and I felt the glow of 
 odd words that came crowding in upon me. 
 Ideas that I had found in books and which, 
 dim after a time, had sought to elude me, now 
 became vivid and within my easy grasp. 
 Looking upward, I saw a shooting star and 
 laughed at it. Nick sang a song, and his voice 
 was as mellow as a flute blown by thick lips; 
 and, wondering why thick lips should be mel 
 lower than lips that are thin, I was seized with 
 such laughter that I rolled on the ground. 
 Nick said that it was time to take another 
 drink, and it seemed to me that he had 
 uttered the most brilliant thought ever 
 evolved by man, and, becoming solemn, we 
 stood up to each other and shook hands. 
 Another drink, and across the heavens two 
 stars shot a race, both dying at the same time.
 
 104 " TURK " 
 
 Suddenly a hill arose where there had been a 
 valley. The murmur of the creek sounded 
 afar off and then seemed to be gushing in at 
 my ears. Nick said that it was time to take 
 another drink and, catching at the jug, I 
 swore that he was the smartest man in the 
 world. And then the earth began to buck- 
 jump. I laid hold of a sapling to keep from 
 being thrown off into space, and although in a 
 wild rush through the air, yet upon my brow 
 the wind blew scorching hot. A deathly sick 
 ness seized me. The world ceased to gallop 
 and began to sink down, down, falling a mile 
 a second into blackness. 
 
 When I awoke, lying on my back, the sun 
 was blazing in my face. All hallucination was 
 gone, leaving only a sickness that seemed a 
 constant last breath of agony. I staggered to 
 my feet, and the first things seen were two 
 jugs. I seized them and against a rock 
 dashed them to pieces. The smash awoke 
 Nick. 
 
 "Hello, there, you've knocked over the jugs 
 and lost all the whisky. Now we're in a fine 
 fix. What are we goin' to do for a drink?" 
 
 The thought of a swallow of whisky brought
 
 THE ROBBERY 105 
 
 on a violent fit of retching. And down I 
 dropped in the sun, calling on God to end my 
 life. Nick looked like a yellow dog worsted 
 in a fight; but he was able to laugh at me, 
 though occasionally he retched, too, and 
 looked sad. Not far away was a big spring, 
 and near by the rivulet from it tumbled in a 
 ten-foot fall. Burning with thirst, we stag 
 gered down to the falls and bare-headed stood 
 under the pour, with hot mouths open. Oh, 
 what a gift of God that was! Out of the 
 burning hell of whisky into the cooling water 
 of Paradise what a transition! But it was 
 soothing only for a time. Outraged nature 
 was not so easily appeased. The retching 
 returned, and on the moss I lay, sick almost 
 unto the limit of endurance, but along late in 
 the afternoon I grew better, and about sunset 
 was able to go home. 
 
 Nick left me at the barnyard gate and went 
 whistling away, halting to cast a stone at a 
 woodpecker hammering on a corner of the 
 corn-crib. The family was at supper, and 
 without being seen I crept up the stairs and 
 fell on the bed. My book and a new candle 
 were on the box, though not in its light was I
 
 106 ' TURK " 
 
 to cull a thought, but in darkness with my 
 sore and humiliated soul to fret till misery 
 was ended in sleep. 
 
 With morning I was not well and the 
 thought of whisky gagged me. I fancied that 
 my tongue must look like an old shoe-sole, 
 parched and cupped by the sun, and ideas 
 which sought to cross my mind seemed to 
 shrivel and to blast when halfway on their 
 journey. After feeding the horses, I went in 
 to breakfast and was ashamed to look at any 
 one. 
 
 "Well," said the professor, "we didn't expect 
 to see you again. Where have you been?" 
 
 "Over by the creek." 
 
 "By the creek? I didn't think that anything 
 could make you look worse; but I wish to 
 observe, sir, that the creek is bad for your 
 complexion." 
 
 Nan laughed, but Amy and her mother gave 
 me looks of sympathy. Old man Ridley was 
 nervous. He was sitting beside me, and found 
 opportunity to whisper, "Did you get it?" 
 This brought a scent of the liquor so sicken 
 ing that I was forced to leave the table, but 
 revived by the fresh air I sat on a bench
 
 THE ROBBERY 107 
 
 beneath a tree, soon to be joined by Nan, who 
 came skipping out to taunt me. She sat down 
 on the far end of the bench, humming a tune, 
 and when I looked at her she laughed at me. 
 
 "Woo, I smell whisky!" and she sniffed the 
 air. "Turk, do you drink?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "But did you?" 
 
 "Yes, I was drunk all night robbed a still- 
 house, and I think they'll send me to the 
 penitentiary." 
 
 "Oh, for pity sake! Who was with you?" 
 
 "Won't tell." 
 
 "I know; that boy Nick. Wasn't he with 
 you?" 
 
 "No, I was by myself." 
 
 "Amy's coming. Don't tell her. She 
 thinks you are a good boy, and it will hurt 
 her, but as for me, I don't care what you do." 
 
 Just as Amy came up, the professor shouted 
 to me, "Come, hitch to now and go ahead 
 with your plowing. You are falling behind." 
 
 While I was tying my hame-string, Ridley 
 came into the barn, and without giving him a 
 chance to ask I told him about the liquor, and 
 before I had got halfway to the end of my
 
 108 " TURK " 
 
 story he swung a bridle as if he would brain 
 
 me with the bit. "You imp of hell, you ought 
 
 to be hung up and skinned," he swore. 
 
 "There I lay all night, throbbing, with my 
 
 mouth set for that stuff." 
 
 "You didn't throb as much as I did." 
 
 "Shut up. And do you think I'm going to 
 
 work in a field alongside of such a thing as 
 
 you?" 
 
 He went out, walked to Scoville, ten miles 
 
 distant, was drunk for a week; and when he 
 
 returned he looked like an old owl, half 
 
 picked.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 
 
 ITH the memory of my desperate 
 agony on the knoll still fresh, and 
 the be*draggled Ridley in imme 
 diate view, yet did I think upon the 
 star-shooting delight of those first three 
 drinks and long for them again. Time after 
 time, in dreams, the scene came back, but 
 never the agony; and thus it is that Old 
 Pluto's broth is ever sweet with promises. 
 One drink of itself is sometimes a habit; and 
 one drunk, instead of ending in natural dis 
 gust, lays a permanent foundation for con 
 tinuous thirst. 
 
 One night I awoke, burning for liquor. At 
 first I thought it a natural thirst, but upon the 
 gravelly bank of the spring I lay and drank, 
 and still was empty of the thing most wanted. 
 During nearly a week I fought this thirst, and 
 on Saturday night I went over to see Mr. 
 Hoover, hoping that by word or example he 
 
 might give me strength. The preacher, a 
 
 109
 
 110 "TURK" 
 
 bachelor, boarded at a farmhouse. He was 
 in his study when I called, and never before 
 had I seen so great an array of books. In his 
 manner he was cool, but not unkind; he bade 
 me sit down, and then through gold rims he 
 looked at me with a sort of duty interest, but 
 when I began my humiliating story he warmed 
 toward me. 
 
 "Young man," said he, when I had con 
 cluded, "I see you are in earnest, and in that 
 will lie your strength to fight this most power 
 ful of all enemies. It is by no means singular 
 that you should want liquor after only one 
 association with it. All temperance men, 
 many of whom speak from experience, will 
 tell you, as they are constantly telling the 
 world, to shun the first drink. At the start 
 we may be tempted by curiosity, and then, 
 before we know it, we are held by chains; but 
 each time you yield, a part of your force goes 
 over to the enemy. Understand me, not 
 every man who takes a drink becomes a 
 drunkard, but those who never run the risk 
 are sure not to be. In some of us there is 
 an evil seed. Why, victorious as I have been, 
 emancipated as I am now, if I should touch but
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 111 
 
 one drop of wine, the fight must needs be fought 
 over again. Nearly every man who has con 
 quered whisky has succeeded in accomplishing 
 much in the world. The will does not halt 
 with one conquest, but seeks others. Train 
 ing makes it strong and aggressive. So, in 
 one way, you ought to be thankful that you 
 are now in a sort of gymnasium. The out 
 come will prove whether or not you are a 
 man. I perceive that you have more than an 
 ordinary mind. The clearness of your story 
 convinces me of that fact. So, now, prove to 
 yourself that you have more than an ordinary 
 will. Without will the mind may be but as a 
 soft and impotent luxury. So, now, when the 
 thirst for liquor is strongest, rejoice, not 
 indeed that it is putting you to the test, but 
 that you are a master rather than a slave. 
 The exercise of will is akin to answered 
 prayer. It is a God-sent strength; sent for 
 good, I verily believe. Don't take any medi 
 cines. That would be a compromise. At 
 some stages of drunkenness it is a disease, but 
 not at the beginning. The disease lies in 
 one's own weakness. One may be born with 
 a tendency toward liquor; but I do not believe
 
 112 " TURK " 
 
 that the taste, or rather the weakness, is 
 inherited. If so, why is it that the boys and 
 not the girls inherit it? Inherited disease 
 strikes male and female alike. I knew a man 
 of whom it was said that he could not quit 
 drinking without dire physical consequences. 
 The physicians said that his case needed 
 medicines. But he committed forgery, was 
 sentenced to the penitentiary for seven years, 
 and came out as healthy a man as I ever saw; 
 but as soon as he came out, he began to drink. 
 The disease lay only in his will. My son, for 
 a time during my fight I thought that surely I 
 should go insane. I had more than liquor to 
 fight; on my hands there was human blood. 
 But will conquered desire, and sincere repent 
 ance washed off the blood. Do you think, 
 now, that you are strong enough to make 
 good the fight?" 
 
 Within me I felt a growing strength, and 
 told him so. "I was weak to come, but I go 
 away strong, sir," I said; and he gave me the 
 full measure of his smile, though trained 
 down from all extravagance. 
 
 "Young man, I am pleased to hear you say 
 as much, not that you were weak to come, for
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 113 
 
 council is a part of wisdom, but that you feel 
 that you have gathered strength. In you I 
 fancy that I can perceive victory. It will not 
 end in your being merely a sober man. 
 During the brief time I talked with you one 
 day at dinner, I believe you said that in choice 
 of a career you had settled upon the law. 
 Don't let your lack of present means nor what 
 may in the future appear as want of oppor 
 tunity discourage you. Save every possible 
 cent, and when the time shall ripen, put it 
 upon your education. In the meantime study, 
 as I believe you are doing. And, by the way, 
 that reminds me: Yesterday Nick Bowles 
 came over and yielded himself to my dutiful 
 entreaty, that is, consented to live here with 
 me and to go to school. I think I hear him 
 out there now." 
 
 He went to the door and called, and as he 
 resumed his seat Nick entered the room. He 
 ducked his head to me and sat down. "While 
 I was out thar jest now," said he, "thought I 
 hearn you fellers " 
 
 "You gentlemen," the minister corrected 
 him. 
 
 "You gentlemen say somethin' about
 
 114 " TURK " 
 
 drinkin' licker. An' it made me glad I don't 
 drink." 
 
 "My charge is an adherent of the temper 
 ance cause," said the preacher, and Nick gave 
 his head an assuring shake. 
 
 "Never tuck a drink in my life," he declared 
 with every show of truth. "Some fellers 
 cotch me once and tried to make me drink 
 some gentlemen, I mean, and " 
 
 "In that instance they were not gentlemen," 
 said Mr. Hoover. 
 
 "Fellers, then, cotch me and tried to make 
 me drink, and I told 'em, I did, that they'd 
 have to cut my throat an' pour it in the 
 gash." 
 
 The preacher assured him that it was a 
 brave act, and the rascal swallowed the com 
 pliment and licked his chops. I had sense 
 enough not to stay too long, and took my 
 leave when my moral helper looked toward 
 his desk, where, on large sheets of paper, he 
 had inked the points of his next sermon. 
 
 Nick followed me, talking with the mealy 
 mouth of deceitful rectitude until we were 
 well down the road, when he cried out, "Rack 
 back, Davy, daddy shot a ba'r; gimmy drink
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 115 
 
 o' licker, I'll rumple up yo' ha'r. Wish we had 
 a jug." 
 
 "Nick, you're the biggest liar I ever saw." 
 
 "Who? Me? If anybody else said it, he'd 
 have me to whup. I haven't told you that I 
 didn't drink. I told the preacher I didn't, but 
 I acknowledge it to you. Ain't that fair?" 
 
 "Fair! Anything's fair with as big a liar as 
 you are. Think of the chance that man is 
 givin' you." 
 
 "Yes, an' think of the chance I might have 
 had if my daddy was a livin'. Why, I might 
 have had a job at a stillhouse." 
 
 "It takes a sober man even to make whisky. 
 You'd be drunk all the time." 
 
 He clucked. "And wouldn't that be fun? 
 But lemme tell you somethin'. I don't intend 
 to be drunk all the time, but jest when I feel 
 like it. I don't like to be shet up in that 
 school over yonder on the hill, but I reckon 
 it's the best thing for me. I want to git 
 enough education to stand behind a counter 
 in a store and grin at the gals, like a feller I 
 know over at Scoville. He can smile a woman 
 off'n her horse and right into the sto'. And I 
 thinks to myse'f that if readin', writin', an'
 
 116 "TURK" 
 
 cipherin' will keep me in the shade, I'm in for 
 it. I'm one of these fellers that the easiest 
 job fits. Well, believe I'll turn back here. 
 Say, my bed puts me in the mind of a mellow 
 apple, it's so soft. It's all slicked over with 
 yaller, the posts are, an' I don't have to git up 
 of a mornin' an' feed hosses. Jest lay thar an' 
 wait till they call me to come down an' eat. 
 Good-night." 
 
 What a fortunate devil he was, I mused. 
 They had seized him by the heels and per 
 force were dragging him into an education. 
 But he was born without principle, and noth 
 ing could fill the place of it. The dyeing of 
 his leopard spots had been done in fast colors. 
 I strove to summon up a contempt for him, 
 but could not. Was I at so early an age lib 
 eral enough not to hold a man responsible for 
 what he is? Or was it a weakness rather than 
 a liberality? 
 
 Near the roadside I halted and drank out 
 of a spring, but my thirst was not quenched. 
 My fight was on again, and word for word I 
 recalled what the preacher had said. Surely 
 he must have been wrong concerning a heredi 
 tary longing for liquor. My father was sober,
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 117 
 
 but my grandfather was a drunkard; and, 
 mayhap, from that old roisterer had come 
 down to me the temperamental sediment of a 
 midnight cup. On a rock I sat, gazing up 
 ward; and how quiet were the heavens, com 
 pared with that night when in a new ecstasy I 
 saw stars racing across the sky! 
 
 Up and down the road in front of the house 
 walked old Ridley. The end of his spree lay 
 only a few days in the past, and now he was 
 suffering the remorse of it. I was going to 
 pass him, feeling that he was not well dis 
 posed toward me; but he spoke kindly, and I 
 halted. 
 
 "My son," he said, "I wish you had broken 
 every infernal jug in the world. Ah, Lord! I 
 didn't have any money, but in town I had a kit 
 of tools stored away, and I gave them for 
 whisky. Why is it that the voice of misery 
 can't be heard above? When I get down on 
 my knees and pray that every drop of liquor 
 may vanish from the face of the earth, why 
 isn't my prayer answered? Men pray for rain, 
 and that is selfish; they want their crops bet 
 tered. We are told that it is a service unto 
 the Maker to kneel and say, 'Lord, bless us,'
 
 118 "TURK" 
 
 That's selfish, too; but when I call upon God 
 to paralyze every hand that makes or sells 
 whisky, it is not a mere selfishness, but a request 
 that once answered would be a boon to man 
 kind. But let me tell you something right 
 here. I'll never, so long as I live, touch 
 another drop of the stuff. What! A man, who 
 knows so much as I do, throw himself away? 
 I won't do it. I'll soon be seventy, and it's 
 time I was making something of myself. Oh, 
 I've got the strength. It has been asleep, but 
 it is awake now." 
 
 Down the road came a wagon, and in it 
 there were men, singing. The night was not 
 dark, and the driver seeing us drew up, while 
 one of the men held up a bottle and cried out, 
 "Well, boys, here's to you." The old man 
 stood with his hand on my shoulder, and I 
 felt him tremble. 
 
 "A little of it might not do us any hurt," he 
 said. 
 
 The reveler held forth the bottle. The old 
 man, shambling up to the wheel, seized the 
 flask and drank. He offered it to me, and my 
 knees felt weak. A burning water arose in 
 my mouth, my heart skipped a beat and I felt
 
 DANCED HIM DOWN 119 
 
 that I was smothering. All that was alive 
 about me cried for whisky; but I braced 
 myself against moving forward toward the 
 wheel on which the man's hand, holding the 
 bottle, was resting; I moved backward to the 
 fence, and about a post I threw my arm and 
 held on as if some one were striving to pull 
 me away. 
 
 "Hop in and go to town with us," the driver 
 said to Ridley, who laughed out that he was 
 too old a frog to hop; but even then he was 
 trying to climb in. They helped him, and 
 away the wagon went, rattling down the road; 
 and long I heard their song and their laughter 
 rising from the distant hills. But before I 
 went to sleep my thirst was gone. 
 
 We were at breakfast the next morning, 
 when a man on a horse halloed at the gate. 
 The professor went out and, returning after a 
 short absence, told us that old Ridley was 
 dead. The more vigorous had drunk the 
 weaker one to death. He was in a doggery, 
 dancing with the rest of his company, when 
 suddenly he felt his way to a chair. 
 
 "Have they danced you down?" a young 
 reveler asked of him; and without answering
 
 120 " TURK " 
 
 the old man bowed his head, and that was all. 
 His wife and two sons came and buried him, 
 and one of the boys carried away the old 
 horse pistol that had cost me such pain and 
 shame.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE OLD RAT 
 
 HE PREACHER had praised me 
 for the simple straightforwardness 
 of my story, yet I had not told him 
 all. I told him of the drunkenness 
 but not of the theft, for that were a confession 
 too steeped in disgrace. During more than a 
 week I listened for reports of the robbery, and 
 in my coward fancy held every man that 
 passed along the road was a constable come 
 to drag me to judgment and to prison; but 
 there was no noise of the crime, and but for 
 conscience I was to go unpunished. With 
 myself I had drawn a compact and meant to 
 keep it. Sometimes of a rainy day we are 
 bolder than when the sun shines; so one 
 morning when it seemed that the sky was 
 hung for an all-day drizzle, I asked the pro 
 fessor to pay me in advance a part of my 
 month's wage. He was deep in some mathe 
 matical problem and wished that I had not 
 bothered him. He was trying to square some
 
 122 "TURK" 
 
 sort of a root, and the air about him seemed 
 full of figures, but he gave me four dollars, 
 and I knocked over a chair in eagerness to 
 get out, afraid that having done it abstract 
 edly, he might awake to his error and take the 
 money away from me. 
 
 Across the hills I took my hurried trudge, 
 in the woods, in the road, over worn-out 
 fields saddled and bridled and ridden by con 
 science. It was after the noon hour, the 
 clouds were thicker and the rain heavier when 
 I came within sight of Horner's distillery. As 
 I approached, an old dog, stiff and with a 
 bruise on the head, stood in the door and 
 growled. Some one called out that he 
 wouldn't bite, and I entered the house. 
 Three negroes and a white boy were shelling 
 corn on a sheet. I inquired for Mr. Horner, 
 and the boy said that he was over at the 
 house. Thither I went, halloed at the yard 
 gate, and a woman bade me come in. 
 
 An old man got up as I entered and invited 
 me to a seat. He sat down and, looking at 
 me, asked my name; and when I had told him 
 he said, "I reckon you're pretty much the last 
 of your race."
 
 THE OLD RAT 123 
 
 "And pretty much the worst, too, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 "Well, I don't know as to that, but some of 
 them were mighty bad." 
 
 I could have told him that so far as was 
 known none of them made whisky; that those 
 who went at their instance to eternity's bed, 
 went, for the most part, in a sober state of 
 mind, but before this defense was in any way 
 framed, the old man continued: 
 
 "Your folks and the Nesbitts kept this part 
 of the country stirred up for a long time; 
 recollect they broke up a circus once at Sco- 
 ville, and there was a good deal of talk about 
 it. Old Clem Trotter sold his cookin' stove 
 to get money enough to take his family 
 'lowed it was bad enough to break up a camp- 
 meetin' or a session of the county court, much 
 less a show that everybody had been waitin' 
 for. What are you doin' over in this part of 
 the country?" 
 
 "I work for Professor Emory." 
 
 "Oh, the nigger lover, eh?" 
 
 "I never saw him lovin' any nigger never 
 saw a nigger on the place, except a yaller 
 woman that does the cookin'."
 
 124 " TURK " 
 
 "Well, mebby he loves her." 
 
 Hereupon the woman who had invited me 
 in came forward out of a darkened end of the 
 room and rebuked him. "You oughtn't to 
 talk that way," she said. 
 
 "What did I say? I said mebby. There 
 ain't no harm in mebby, is there?" 
 
 The woman returned to her dark corner, 
 and the old man, watery-eyed with a sense of 
 his own humor, again addressed himself to 
 me. "Did he send you over after licker?" 
 
 "No, sir, he didn't send me; but I came to 
 see about two gallons. What would that 
 much in jugs be worth?" 
 
 In those days there was no tax on whisky, 
 and it was almost as cheap as buttermilk. 
 "Well," he said, "the best is worth about fifty 
 cents a gallon including the jugs. Want to 
 take it along with you now?" 
 
 "I did take it along with me." And by this 
 time I had drawn forth one of my dollars. 
 "I robbed your stillhouse the other night, and 
 I want to pay you." 
 
 "What, you young devil, was that you?" 
 The woman came out of the darkness and 
 stood near his chair.
 
 THE OLD RAT 125 
 
 "Yes, sir, and I want to pay you for the 
 whisky and for the broken window. But let 
 me tell you the whole story." 
 
 I began with the whipping, told of my hun 
 ger for revenge, of my great desire to possess 
 the horse pistol, of the racing stars and the 
 waterfall, and he listened like an old rat. 
 When I was done, he said: "Pity you can't git 
 up and tell that in the pulpit; but I want you 
 to understand that I don't make whisky for 
 drunkards I never was drunk in my life, and 
 I make licker for folks that knows how to use 
 it. Well now, what do you think I ought to 
 do with you? Confessin' a crime, you know, 
 don't excuse it in the sight of the law." The 
 woman leaned over and whispered something 
 to him. He poohed at her and laughed. 
 "And, sir," he said, "my wife here, don't know 
 me any better. Did you ever notice how 
 little a man's wife knows him? She may live 
 with him forty years, and he can set a joke- 
 trap for her and ketch her every time. Yes, 
 sir, she thought I meant to send you to jail, but 
 I'd see you hanged first. Put your money in 
 your pocket. That window needed fixin' any 
 way, and as for the licker why, it has made
 
 126 " TURK " 
 
 a sober man out of you. I tell you, sir, my 
 whisky don't make drunkards. It makes folks 
 honest." 
 
 "Mr. Horner, don't talk that way," the 
 woman pleaded. 
 
 "What did I tell you? Didn't I say a 
 woman never understands her husband? 
 Now crack my head for a last year's walnut, 
 will you? But seriously, my son, you committed 
 a crime. It is enough to send you to the peni 
 tentiary, but nobody will ever know about it 
 from me. No, sir, and I wouldn't be surprised 
 but you'll shame your folks and make a man 
 of yourself. What do you intend to be?" 
 
 "A lawyer, sir." 
 
 "A lawyer! Then you oughtn't to start in 
 by confessin' your crimes. The best lawyers 
 don't do that. And you offered to pay me. 
 That's another bad start." 
 
 "Mr. Horner, don't discourage him," 
 pleaded the woman. 
 
 "Hah, what, didn't I tell you? Sue, I 
 reckon you better git back to cardin' of your 
 bats. You understand wool better'n you do 
 me. Know more about a sheep in one min 
 ute than you do me in a whole year. You
 
 THE OLD RAT 127 
 
 haven't been to dinner, have you, sonny? 
 Don't lie to me, that is, unless you are fully 
 determined to be a lawyer. Have you been 
 to dinner?" 
 
 "No, sir; but I ain't hungry." 
 
 "Bound to lie to me. Sue, set out some of 
 them corn-field beans and a pone or two of 
 that corn bread. Go in there with her, 
 sonny." 
 
 While I was eating in a sort of shed room 
 he came and sat down near a window, in the 
 light, where I could take closer note of his 
 features. But I had no reason to revise my 
 judgment that he looked like a rat. After 
 dinner he invited me to view the mysteries of 
 his distillery, but the place was reproachful to 
 me, and I told him so. He said that I was 
 picking up prejudices early in life, declaring 
 that when a boy does that he usually gets a 
 sufficient number to last him into old age and 
 failure. At our parting he shook me warmly 
 by the hand as if I had done him a favor, 
 rather than to have robbed him; and I went 
 away holding him warm in gratitude. 
 
 Strange it was, I mused, that he could make 
 whisky and during all his life drink of it with-
 
 128 " TURK " 
 
 out getting drunk; and I thus spoke to a man 
 who invited me to ride in his ox-cart. The 
 fellow laughed. "Why, old Horner is drunk 
 two-thirds of his time," he said. "Ah, it is a 
 hard matter to corner whisky into telling the 
 truth." 
 
 As it was too wet to work in the field, I 
 turned aside before reaching home to visit my 
 old friend, Champ Jones. He was standing 
 in the door of his cabin, and as he saw me 
 coming out of the timber shouted, "Oh, I've 
 got something to eat sure enough now quail 
 eggs. It's pretty late in the season, but I found 
 two nests this morning and got about a peck 
 of eggs, fresh as white clover. The old quails 
 took on a good deal, and I begged their par 
 don, which was about the best I could do. 
 Could have killed them to relieve them of 
 distress, but hadn't the heart. Come in. The 
 professor was over this morning, and it wasn't 
 long before we bristled like boar shotes; but 
 his little daughter, Nan, was with him, and we 
 didn't fight. Sit down here. Those eggs will 
 be done in about a minute. They want to be 
 hard boiled. Some fellow writing in old 
 Greeley's paper says that quail eggs are as
 
 THE OLD RAT 129 
 
 high-up food as a man can eat; talks as if he 
 had made a discovery. I could have told him 
 years ago; and old Horace printed it along 
 side of the pictures of a runaway nigger and a 
 bloodhound. Lorenzo, that is as smart a little 
 girl as I ever saw. And she's a beauty, too 
 but a sort of cruel beauty, the kind that is sure 
 to make some man miserable. I wonder if it 
 is possible for a man to be happy 'long with a 
 beautiful woman? If her beauty palls on him, 
 he's lost something; and if it don't pall, he's 
 afraid that he will lose something; so there 
 you are. Now I'll take the eggs off." 
 
 The evening was gathering darkness; sev 
 eral hours had passed since my snack at the 
 distiller's house. No daintier dish was ever 
 served in a tin pan, and yet was I not inclined 
 to eat. What had taken away my appetite? 
 Nan his ungentle picture of her? Could it 
 be that ambushed in my breast there was love 
 for her? Impossible, and yet when he spoke 
 of her, I felt the blood tingling my full length. 
 I could with pleasure think of Amy or in mind 
 hold an agreeable picture of her; and in her 
 presence it was soothing to note the softness 
 of her voice and the sympathetic grace of her
 
 130 " TURK " 
 
 manner. Neither in talking to her nor in 
 hearing others speak of her was there the 
 least embarrassment; but of Nan, how differ 
 ent! She was a spite, a something to make 
 one feel mean. Then why should old 
 Champ's judgment of her fill me with a quak 
 ing dread? 
 
 "Why do you think she's cruel?" I asked, 
 sitting close to the box table, shelling eggs. 
 
 "Oh, because she's born venomous, I reckon. 
 Don't know, however, that I ought to say that. 
 It may be that I was once stung; but I'll say 
 this, and let it serve as a correction for all that 
 I have yet said: When such women do love, 
 they love to death.' ' 
 
 "But if a a man loved her, wouldn't that 
 make him happy?" 
 
 "Of course. What put that into your head?" 
 
 "You said that a beautiful woman rarely 
 made a man happy." 
 
 "Yes, but she'll never be beautiful, except 
 possibly to people that have a wild idea of 
 beauty. To me she would be well, what you 
 might call too restless and sensational. She's 
 too much like a humming bird; she doesn't 
 rest. True beauty ought to be restful,"
 
 THE OLD RAT 131 
 
 "And then tiresome, mebby," I replied. 
 
 "Eh, now, what do you know about it? 
 Lorenzo, you don't look as if you'd ever been 
 a student of beauty. But how have you been 
 getting along since I saw you? Got your pep 
 per-box yet?" 
 
 "I have thrown it away tried to shoot it, 
 but it wouldn't go off. Tried to get a horse 
 pistol from old Ridley did you know him?" 
 
 "Well, I ought to recollect him. He was 
 one of the witnesses that sent me to the peni 
 tentiary, but he didn't do more than tell the 
 truth. Didn't seem to me, however, that the 
 simple truth ought to have yielded him whisky 
 enough to keep him drunk for nearly a year. 
 What about him? How is he getting along?" 
 
 "He's got along about as far as he can go. 
 Didn't you know he was dead?" 
 
 "Hadn't heard a word of it, but I don't 
 go anywhere, and people rarely stop here. 
 Maybe the professor would have told me; but, 
 as I told you, we bristled at once, and in the 
 argument that followed we had but little time 
 for neighborhood gossip. Tried to get his 
 horse pistol, you were saying." 
 
 I told him my story, including the visit to
 
 132 " TURK " 
 
 the preacher and the call upon the distiller. 
 He laughed. "Man lives only in patches, you 
 know; and between the patches there is sand 
 without even a weed growing. That was one 
 of your patches. And the old rat wouldn't 
 take the money. Don't see how he could. 
 Well, sir, speaking of him reminds me that 
 the curse of the South, largely including Ken 
 tucky, is whisky and slavery. I won't say that 
 Kentucky is half drunk all the time, but half 
 of Kentucky is always drunk. And something's 
 got to happen. Things can't go on this way; 
 it's too unnatural. We are a hothouse with 
 the glass broken, letting in the cold air. Our 
 civilization is the most strained the world ever 
 saw. See that newspaper behind the clock? 
 It's full of dire prophecy, I tell you. Away off 
 yonder a cloud is gathering, and there will be 
 a thunder storm and a dark night will fol 
 low it." 
 
 For a long time he talked about the disas 
 ters that were sure to fall upon the country, 
 but having heard such preaching all my years, 
 I gave to it little heed. The night was black, 
 and in the woods I had to feel my way from 
 tree to tree, I got lost and came out upon the
 
 THE OLD RAT 133 
 
 shores of the noisy creek, groped back into 
 the woods and at last found my way into the 
 cleared land. 
 
 In the room where the girls slept a light 
 was burning, and as I approached, I fancied 
 that upon the curtain Nan's shadow was danc 
 ing, unrestful creature that she was. Long I 
 stood there in the rain, for the clouds had 
 thickened; and when the light went out, I 
 imagined that in the dark Nan was still danc 
 ing, practicing a new mockery to put upon me. 
 But in my room gentle Amy came to mind, 
 for there was arranged my library. The can 
 dle burned with never a splutter, the heavy air 
 was so still; but I could not read, though I 
 caught one sentence: "Some hearts are cre 
 ated to endure a life-long torture," and as I 
 lay half asleep it seemed that Nan was danc 
 ing, tossing up those words as a juggler keeps 
 balls in the air.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 
 
 HE TIME crept along, and I lived 
 in patches, as old Champ would 
 have said. The corn was laid by, 
 and now I was free for days at a 
 time to read or to roam in the woods. The 
 fall of the year was at hand, and they were 
 making ready to send Amy off to the semi 
 nary. In our household this was of exciting 
 moment, and one day Nan went over to a 
 neighbor's to tell about it. Rain began to 
 fall, continuing until dark, and then I was 
 sent on a side-saddled horse to fetch her 
 home. When I arrived, dripping, at the 
 door, she frowned upon me, for she wanted 
 to remain over night; but willful as she was 
 she did not presume to disobey her father, 
 and he had sent his command. The rain had 
 ceased, and in the ragged sky there was a half 
 moon. I offered to walk, but in the presence 
 of the neighbors she was ashamed to consent; 
 so I got behind her on the horse. For a time
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 135 
 
 she sang as we cantered along the road. Sud 
 denly the horse shied, and I caught her about 
 the waist. 
 
 "Turn me loose!" she cried. 
 
 I did so and apologized: "I was afraid you'd 
 fall." 
 
 "I'd rather you'd let me. You grab like a 
 bear." 
 
 "Were you ever grabbed by a bear?" 
 
 "Yes, just then." 
 
 Through the mud we splashed. "I am 
 thankful to you for one thing," I said. 
 
 "Whatfs that?" 
 
 "You didn't tell the folks I was drunk." 
 
 "Do you think I'm a tattle-tale?" 
 
 "No. But how did you find out I was 
 drunk?" 
 
 "Didn't guessed it. Won't you be sorry 
 when Amy goes?" 
 
 "Yes, won't you?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Somehow with her 
 goodness she makes me sad." 
 
 "I didn't know anything could make you 
 sad." The horse shied again, and I clasped 
 her about the waist. 
 
 "Don't! I believe you make the horse do
 
 136 " TURK " 
 
 that. And if you do it again you'll walk. If 
 you want to grab girls, why don't you go 
 among your own class?" 
 
 This sent hot blood to my head. "My class 
 is as good as yours," I replied. "My people 
 were captains in the Revolution. They didn't 
 leave me money, but they left something that 
 makes me prouder the fact that they were 
 brave. I won't ride with you." 
 
 I slid off the horse. "You are more skittish 
 than the horse," she said. "Come, get back 
 up. It's a good ways home, and the road's 
 muddy. Here's a stump. Get on it, and 
 I'll " 
 
 "I won't ride with you." 
 
 "Yes, and you'll tell father, and he'll scold 
 me." 
 
 "Do you take me for a tattle-tale?" 
 
 "Oh, making use of it, are you? But come 
 on, if you're coming." 
 
 "I'm not coming. I'd swim through mud 
 rather than ride with you." 
 
 Cutting through a nearer way, I was at the 
 gate when she rode up. Without a word I 
 helped her down; and as soon as we came 
 into the light, she made a mouth at me and
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 137 
 
 called me "Smarty." And that night so com 
 pletely did I dismiss her from my mind, that 
 Amy's book was read and her candle was 
 burned low. 
 
 The days flew fast, for with me it was a sort 
 of vacation, and soon came the time for Amy's 
 departure. To the great seat of learning her 
 mother was to accompany her, and in the 
 family barouche I was to drive them there. 
 The professor did not waste many words at 
 the parting. He told his daughter that it was 
 against his will and his judgment, and huffed 
 off into the house. Nan rode with us until 
 her mother forced her to get out, and then we 
 drove along in tears. 
 
 It was nearly sunset, when there burst upon 
 me a sight that brought tears to my eyes 
 Old Blood, the sacred spot of this whole 
 earth. There was the old log house, strong 
 as a battlement, the little graveyard on the 
 hill, and the majestic whirl of water gushing 
 from the ground. I begged my mistress to 
 let me stay awhile, and she consented, as it 
 was not much further to the inn where we 
 were to put up for the night. In that old 
 graveyard my people were buried, my father
 
 138 " TURK " 
 
 and my murdered mother. Rough stones 
 with the neighborhood stonecutter's lettering 
 marked the graves. Among those sleeping 
 there, how few had died in the natural bed of 
 death! I could recall but one, a little child; 
 yes, one other, an old man who escaped the 
 early storms of a wild country to die at ninety 
 in a calm. 
 
 The door of the old house was locked; but 
 I raised a window and entered. Within, it 
 was dark, but I found a bit of candle on the 
 master's desk, lighted it, went to my old bench 
 in a corner, and sat there until Mrs. Emory 
 called me. The old place had not changed; 
 my oaken seat was the same, and still as of 
 yore one leg was gone, snatched out, I remem 
 bered, by one of the Bryan boys to crack the 
 head of Sandy Tolliver. 
 
 At the inn where we stayed there had 
 occurred a fight between the Griffins and the 
 Nesbitts, the first or possibly the second "gen 
 eral engagement." And at school I was proud 
 to be told time and again that our side was 
 the winner, counting the holding of the ground 
 but not the number of killed and wounded. 
 I had heard my Uncle Gabe say that my
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 139 
 
 father killed a Nesbitt in a little room that 
 had a red sun painted on the plastered wall, 
 and I begged the landlord to let me make my 
 bed there; but he refused until I gave him my 
 reason, and then he bowed to me and called 
 me a part of the history of his famous house. 
 So in that room I slept, but did not dream of 
 battle; I thought that Nan, in silver slippers, 
 was dancing on my brow. 
 
 The remainder of the journey took but little 
 more than half of the next day; but we 
 remained at the seminary over night, greatly 
 to my embarrassment, for the girls peeped at 
 me from behind hall doors and made signs 
 that caused laughter at my expense. Early 
 in the morning there was another tearful fare 
 well, and sadly Mrs. Emory sat back in the 
 vehicle, not speaking until we must have been 
 five miles on our homeward road. Then she 
 asked me if I were happy. Such a question 
 had never before been put to me. Happy! I 
 had never thought of such a thing. I had 
 never known but one Elysium, and that was a 
 disgrace the time when with Nick I viewed 
 the star-popping heavens. That could never 
 be again; it was but the flashing tinsel that
 
 140 " TURK " 
 
 meant beggary through life and a shameful 
 death at last. So quickly had I been shunted 
 off upon this musing that I had not answered 
 Mrs. Emory's question, and she repeated it. 
 
 "Happy, did you say, Ma'm? Don't believe 
 I'd know how to be." 
 
 "Oh, but you mustn't feel that way. God 
 grants happiness to every one that believes in 
 Him. Don't we treat you well, Turk?" 
 
 "Yes, Ma'm, better than I have ever 
 deserved." 
 
 "You mustn't feel that way, either. Turk, I 
 believe you are a boy of strong character. 
 Some people think you homely, but I don't." 
 
 Ah, unkind kindness. My freckles marked 
 me for comment and for ridicule. I expected 
 no compliments, but Mrs. Emory's "oneness" 
 in not thinking me "homely" hurt worse than 
 if, like Nan, she had mocked me. 
 
 Upon arriving at home, late in the after 
 noon, we found the professor and Mr. Hoover 
 hot in an argument. The professor made a 
 pretense of breaking off, when the vehicle 
 drew up at the gate, and he came out, but 
 continued to talk back over his shoulder at 
 the minister, who followed him part way. The
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 141 
 
 learned man split a long word to kiss his wife, 
 and led her to the house, still talking; he 
 shook a finger at the preacher to emphasize a 
 new point, and when to the visitor Mrs. Emory 
 began to speak of her daughter, the professor 
 broke in with an inquiry, "Ah, yes, how did 
 you leave Amy?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear, I am astonished that you 
 should ask," she answered, turning upon him 
 with a slight bow and a pickle smile. 
 
 "But I assert," declared the professor, 
 speaking to Hoover, "that when he denounced 
 Copernicus he forfeited all claim to philoso 
 phy. Bruno would not have accepted him as 
 a fellow; and your assertion that he furthered 
 the great ends of Aristotle is far from true." 
 And then he began to wince. His wife's sar 
 casm had penetrated at last. "Why, Louise, 
 you do me a great wrong. I am as anxious 
 about our daughter as you are. Mr. Hoover 
 and I were discussing something of most 
 momentous interest. He holds that Bacon " 
 
 "Oh, hang Bacon," said Mrs. Emory, now 
 laughing. 
 
 "In the smoke house," Nan tripped in, with 
 a toss of her midnight head.
 
 142 " TURK " 
 
 Depositing in the house some bundles that 
 I had brought from the barouche, I went out 
 to unharness the horse. Nan came along to 
 help me, she said, but, in fact, to hinder me; 
 for when the vehicle had been backed under 
 the shed, she was in the way of every move I 
 made. 
 
 With her fingers crossed and held before 
 her eyes, she said, "Here's the way you'll look 
 when you're in jail." She seized a strap that 
 I was unbuckling. "Let me; you can't," she 
 cried. 
 
 How brown were her hands, and with briar 
 scratches upon them; and her fingers, god- 
 artist fancies turned to human flesh! She 
 touched my hand. The thrill made me jump; 
 and when she asked what was the matter I 
 replied, "I thought a wasp stung me." 
 
 I asked her what she would do if I should 
 snatch her hand and kiss it, and she said, "I 
 would box your motley jaws." 
 
 Instead of making me angry it made me 
 laugh. I seized her hand and kissed it; and 
 with a slap she made my ears ring, but it was 
 a thrilling tune. 
 
 "I'll soon be seventeen," I said.
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 143 
 
 "What of that?" she replied. "Once we 
 had a mule, and I remember hearing father 
 say it was seventeen." 
 
 "Let me unbuckle that." 
 
 "I won't. Get away. Whoa, Tom." How 
 sweet and how kindly was her voice when she 
 spoke to the horse! 
 
 "I heard some one say you'd never make a 
 man happy." 
 
 "I'm never going to try." 
 
 "But sometime there might come along a 
 man that would rather be miserable with you 
 than happy with any one else." 
 
 "He'd be a fool." 
 
 "Yes, that's the sort of a man to love 
 you." 
 
 "And what sort of a woman would it be to 
 love you?" 
 
 "More angel than human, I reckon." 
 
 "No, more idiot than anything." 
 
 "I feel like I'm going to kiss your hand 
 again." 
 
 "And I feel like I'm going to hit you with 
 something harder than my hand." 
 
 "Now that Amy's gone, let us be friends, 
 won't you?"
 
 144 " TURK " 
 
 "I could never be friends with you. Your 
 people killed folks, and you get drunk." 
 
 "If you'll promise to like me, I'll promise 
 never to drink and never to kill anybody. I'll 
 let everybody run over me; and if I meet Mose 
 and Tab I'll take off my hat and bow to 'em." 
 
 ''Like you? I couldn't. Why do you want 
 me to?" 
 
 "Because it makes me makes me suffer 
 when I know you don't." 
 
 "Then you are going to be like the poor man 
 that keeps a tollgate away over on the pike." 
 
 "How like him?" 
 
 "An invalid all your life." 
 
 She climbed up into the loft and threw 
 down fodder, and I wished that she might fall, 
 so that I could catch her and convince her 
 that I had saved her life. I held up my hand 
 to help her down. She leaped past me. I 
 caught at her, seized her skirt and tore it. 
 She fell upon her knees, and got up like an 
 angry cat. Her mother called. She went 
 out, I following her; and once she turned 
 about, hands up, fingers crooked, and spat at 
 me. She was a cat 
 
 At the supper table the preacher said a long
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 145 
 
 grace, and fierce argument was softened down 
 to mild discussion. "Of all -men who in the 
 past attempted to explain Shakespeare," said 
 the professor, "your great man, Samuel John 
 son, was the worst equipped by nature. 
 Shakespeare was of the country, while John 
 son was essentially of the town. He hated 
 the country. To him no dale could compare 
 with Fleet Street. In his notes on Shake 
 speare he is constantly hunting for an oppor 
 tunity to sneer at him. He fancied himself 
 died believing himself a greater man than the 
 poet; lamented, like a cut-and-dried school 
 man, Shakespeare's lack of learning, when he 
 ought to have known that the immortal part 
 of the bard, those golden touches of nature, 
 never could have been learned at a university." 
 
 Mr. Hoover stirred his coffee. "Far be it 
 from me," he said with the solemnity always 
 appropriate to this utterance, "far be it from 
 me to detract one iota from the accepted 
 mouthpiece of all humanity, but 
 
 "This ham was mast-fed," Mrs. Emory 
 broke in. Nan peeped at me with her laugh 
 ing eye, and it seemed that the air was filled 
 with a hushed but devilish music.
 
 146 " TURK " 
 
 "Very delicious, I assure you," replied the 
 preacher. "As I was saying, far be it from me 
 to detract, but, although Shakespeare came 
 near it, yet no mind has embraced all minds. 
 Lope De Vega wrote some fifteen hundred 
 dramas, yet no one will assert that he was the 
 entire stage of Spain. Johnson, while not 
 essentially a poet, and by no means a drama 
 tist " 
 
 "My dear," said Mrs. Emory, "pass Mr. 
 Hoover the honey. From our own hives, Mr. 
 Hoover." 
 
 "Yes, very delicious, I assure you. Buck 
 wheat, I am told, makes the best honey. The 
 red clover, so beautiful and so promising 
 when in the meadow, offers but a scant har 
 vest for the honey bee, its er I would say 
 its- " 
 
 "Its scoop," Nan suggested. 
 
 "Yes, my dear," said the preacher, smiling 
 upon her. "Its scoop not being long enough 
 to reach. And Cervantes wrote a hundred or 
 so. Humanity is intellectually, if not morally, 
 greater than any one man. And no one can 
 deny that Dr. Johnson was a very important 
 part of humanity. I "
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 147 
 
 Some one at the door called out, "Howdy, 
 all hands?" 
 
 The preacher frowned, and Nick Bowles 
 came slouching into the room. "Skuze me 
 for upsettin' things," he said, "but, Mr. 
 Hoover, a feller gentleman has come and 
 wants you to marry him an' a gal that he has 
 brought with him." 
 
 The preacher departed hastily, leaving 
 Nick with us. They were not put to the 
 courtesy of asking him to have more ham; 
 for, upon the moment of his sitting down, 
 things began to disappear. The professor 
 and his wife soon made their excuses, leaving 
 to Nan and me\ the pleasure of entertaining 
 
 the visitor. And the little wretch smirked 
 'almost in his face. Confound her, she asked 
 him why he had not come to see her. She 
 honeyed a biscuit and put it on his plate. She 
 tucked a napkin beneath his fuzzy chin and 
 sat back to admire him. 
 
 "This here honey's good stuff," said Nick, 
 and to me her smile was as sickly-sweet as the 
 juice of the prickly pear. 
 
 "You are so much handsomer since you 
 began to go to school," she said, and Nick
 
 148 " TURK " 
 
 smacked his mouth. "And Mr. Hoover says 
 you are learning so fast." What a truthless 
 witch! Hoover had not mentioned him. 
 "And he says you are going to make a fine 
 preacher. Won't that be nice? I like young 
 preachers. Tell me about your school. You 
 know my father is so funny about schools. 
 Somehow he's mad at education; but he's got 
 no use for ignorance, either. Mother teaches 
 me, and after all, she is the best teacher in 
 the whole country. Have you a good 
 teacher?" 
 
 "Tolor'ble. He chaws good tobacker, an' 
 he can spit ten feet or mo' when he's pushed. 
 He's set me to cipherin' now." 
 
 "Has he? Isn't that nice? And pretty soon 
 you'll know all about arithmetic. Boys that 
 don't know arithmetic don't know anything, 
 do they? And are you in love with any of the 
 girls yet?" 
 
 "No, don't believe I am." 
 
 "But some of them must be very pretty." 
 
 "Yes, puttier than a circus wagon. But I 
 ain't got much time for 'em." 
 
 "That's right. You pay attention to your 
 books, and when the time comes, why, you'll
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 149 
 
 yes'm, I'm coming." Her mother had called 
 her. She smiled at Nick, and halting at 
 the door she threw a kiss at him and ran 
 away. 
 
 "I've noticed," said the yellow gourmand, 
 "that fellers what goes to school are a good 
 deal mo' stronger among the gals than fellers 
 what don't. Ever notice it?" 
 
 "I noticed some time ago you were about 
 the biggest liar I ever saw, and now I notice 
 you're a fool." 
 
 "Ain't gittin' jealous, are you? 'Lowed from 
 what you said, you was in love with the other 
 one. Don't want 'em both, do you? Come, 
 split up and be fair. Don't love this one in 
 particular, do you?" 
 
 "I hate her when it comes to that." 
 
 "Well, let it come to that, then, an' don't 
 think no mo' about it. Is that her a singin'? 
 Bet she's singin' to me." Mrs. Emory came 
 in. "Ma'm, this is the best meal of vidults 
 I've had in a year. Bet you made this here 
 coffee yo'se'f." And she smiled on him and 
 asked him to have another cup. Or was it 
 that now every woman who looked upon this 
 lout appeared to me to smile? She put away
 
 150 " TURK " 
 
 some silverware and went out. "She'd make 
 a feller a good mammy-in-law," said Nick. 
 
 "She's one of the best women in the world, 
 and if you speak of her that way again, I'll hit 
 you with the first thing I can get hold of/' I 
 replied. 
 
 "What, ain't in love with the whole family, 
 are you? Well, whut sort of mammy-in-law 
 you reckon I'd want but the best? Say, I've 
 got a bottle hid out under the straw-stack. 
 Feller brought it from the saloon where old 
 Ridley died. Must be some of the same that 
 made him die in joy; for they say he died a 
 dancin'. Come, go with me, and we'll waller 
 in the straw and be the rulers of the earth. 
 Wouldn't you ruther live two hours sho' 'nuff 
 than " 
 
 "Hush!" I commanded, clutching a corner 
 of the table and trembling from head to foot. 
 
 "Oh, you want to, for I can see yo' mouth a 
 
 waterin'.' 
 
 I was so enraged that I could have] brained 
 him; but he had told the truth. In my mouth 
 a hot water had risen, and through my lips it 
 stewed. The word thirst could not express 
 my condition. It was a sinking, a trembling,
 
 TOGETHER ON A HORSE 151 
 
 a despairing want. I heard him say that no 
 one could ever find it out, that once more we 
 would drink and then quit forever. 
 
 Nan came into the room. She looked at 
 me, ready to smirk upon Nick, but suddenly 
 her countenance changed. "Are you sick?" 
 she asked of me. "You look like a ghost. 
 Mother, come here." 
 
 Through the door I darted, and down to the 
 spring I ran, but to look upon the water dark 
 ling in the twilight was chilling to me, and I 
 turned away. In vain I strove to recall the 
 preacher's words; in my mind they were a 
 cold and meaningless jumble, but in my ears 
 the words of my tempter rang like silver, and 
 armed with a stout stick I stood ready to 
 strike him if he should pursue me. He did 
 not, and in the woods I wandered till the 
 moon was up, till a midnight cock away over 
 at old Champ's began to crow, and then I 
 went to the house. On my box there was no 
 book, no candle; the angel to my better wants 
 was gone.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 
 
 HE NEXT morning I arose weak 
 in one way, but strong in another. 
 The fight had laid a tax upon the 
 flesh, but had built up the soul. 
 Had I told the professor of my trial, he would 
 have hooted at it. Those who have not gone 
 through the strain cannot feel its soreness; 
 and the loathing in which whisky is held by 
 most of the virtuous renders them but ill 
 judges of men born in the moral dark of the 
 moon. Indeed, it is not a question of moral 
 ity, but of a sort of physical weakness. Some 
 men would be other than themselves; they 
 become tired of themselves. This more often 
 applies to the intellectual than to the foolish; 
 and it is the reason why men accounted wise 
 are sometimes given to drink. But above all 
 there is a sort of passion, with the tinder pre 
 pared if not set off by heredity; and let him 
 who has a strong will thank God for it. 
 
 At the breakfast table that morning, and it 
 152
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 153 
 
 was a Sunday, Mrs. Emory astonished me by 
 remarking that she would not go to church, 
 that, indeed, she did not wish ever again to 
 hear Mr. Hoover preach. The professor sat 
 back and looked at her. 
 
 "Walter, I mean what I say. Last night in 
 his argument with you he sent infants to hell, 
 and my intelligence my mercy will not sub 
 scribe to such a doctrine. Why, if I believed 
 that, I should hate God." 
 
 The professor threw up his hands, as if to 
 shield himself from some blow. "Louise!" he 
 cried. 
 
 "Oh, I know that I should be meek, in the 
 most approved fashion of the South; I know 
 that it is thought charming in a young woman 
 to have a sort of impertinent mind, but that a 
 married woman must think through her hus 
 band I know all that, and ' 
 
 'Louise, you have a soul to save!" 
 
 "Ah, that old worm-eaten club. And if I 
 have a soul, Walter, I ought to have a mind. 
 If I haven't a mind, my soul ought to be saved 
 out of mere pity. If I have a mind, let me 
 speak it and follow it when I feel it to be right." 
 
 "Ah, when you feel it to be right. You
 
 154 ' TURK " 
 
 but have not teachers been sent among us 
 and- -" 
 
 "A fig for your teachers. When it comes to 
 the soul and conscience, I know as much as 
 Mr. Hoover or any other man. I'm not going 
 to hear him preach." 
 
 "But, my dear, what shall I tell him?" 
 
 "Let me tell him," Nan cried. 
 
 "Yes, let Nan tell him. She is capable 
 of it." 
 
 Nan was the professor's favorite. He had 
 spoiled her with indulgence, and it was rare 
 that he took her to task; but now he turned 
 upon her a cold and reproving eye. "Little 
 one, no one has asked for your assistance. 
 Keep still." 
 
 "Keep still! Why, Walter, she is not sup 
 posed to keep still until she is married. Then 
 she may become a smooth, amiable and placid 
 nobody, like the majority of the women in the 
 South." 
 
 Mrs. Emory's eyes flashed, and she was 
 handsome. How often had that fine spirit 
 quieted itself down from just rebellion! How 
 many times had she mutely sat, listening to 
 unchallenged error and vicious narrowness!
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 155 
 
 "My dear," said the professor, rolling a bit 
 of bread between his thumb and finger, "I 
 hardly know what to say. You have so taken 
 me by surprise that why, come in, Mr. Jones." 
 
 There was old Champ, kicking the mud off 
 his shoes; he stamped to the right and the left, 
 came in, with one foot raking back the mud 
 that had followed him, bowed to Mrs. Emory, 
 gave the professor a grip, squeezed Nan's 
 hands, and coming round laid hold of my 
 shoulders and gave them a shaking. He had 
 been to breakfast, but he sat down to drink a 
 cup of coffee, which he did at a gulp, and 
 putting the cup down said that he was out 
 looking for an old nag that had jumped the 
 fence sometime during the night. "I wanted 
 to go over to hear Hoover to-day," said he. 
 "Met Sol Morris yesterday, and he told me 
 they looked for a doctrinal sermon. Hoover's 
 not my sort, and I thought I'd go over and 
 after services have a tilt with him." 
 
 "How is your corn?" the professor inquired, 
 and Nan, with her face below the table, began 
 to titter. 
 
 "Pretty fair, what there is of it didn't put 
 in much. Sol said they expected to get it raw
 
 156 ' TURK " 
 
 to-day. Lately there has been a good deal of 
 talk about infant damna " 
 
 "I think that's your horse out yonder," said 
 the professor. "No, it's a cow." 
 
 "He may be down in our pasture," remarked 
 Mrs. Emory. 
 
 "I'll go over pretty soon and look. Sol 
 said " 
 
 "You've got some prize pumpkins," put in 
 the professor. 
 
 "No, the corn shaded them too much. 
 Sol " 
 
 "I'll go with you when you are ready," said 
 the professor. 
 
 "All right, plenty of time. I don't get out 
 to church very often; and the more I keep 
 myself shut in, the more I'm worried with the 
 narrowness of the world when I do get out. 
 Why, to hear 'em talking religion at almost 
 every gathering, you'd think it was a new 
 thing and had just been put on trial in the 
 community. The other d,ay while I was at 
 work, a stranger rode up to the fence and 
 called out, 'Say, there, what do you believe?' 
 I told him I believed he was a fool, and he 
 didn't like it much. Well, we scuffled a little,
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 157 
 
 and while I was helping him get his clothes 
 together, I found out that what he meant was 
 whether or not I believed in infant damna 
 tion." 
 
 "How long have you been Irving there?" the 
 professor asked, and Nan cross-barred her 
 eyes with her fingers and looked at me. 
 
 "I told him that if he believed that sort of 
 doctrine, he had come to the right place, and 
 I cuffed him. and at it we went again, and 
 before it was through with, I changed his 
 countenance if I didn't alter his belief. How 
 
 long have I lived there? Oh, ever since " 
 
 His voice failed, his last word seeming to fall 
 dead from his lips. He got up, sniffing, and I 
 knew that the lime smell was upon him. 
 
 "I'm quite sure there is your horse," said 
 the professor, and it was, but the old man 
 gave no heed; he went out stumbling, passed 
 the horse without taking notice of him and 
 took the shortest cut for the woods. 
 
 "Why, what could have been the matter 
 with him?" Mrs. Emory wondered, and the 
 professor shook his head. "They tell me he 
 is queer." 
 
 "At any rate, he doesn't believe in infant "
 
 158 " TURK " 
 
 "In that, my dear, I acknowledge he is not 
 queer," said the professor. She had won and 
 at once she became again the meek, say-noth 
 ing wife. We did not go to church that day, 
 but late in the afternoon we heard from the 
 sermon. 
 
 Old Horner rode up to the gate, and seized 
 with fear I ran out to beg him to say nothing 
 about my confession. There was no time to 
 say more, for the professor followed me, and 
 while I was tying the horse he conducted the 
 distiller into the house. When I returned, 
 Horner was talking about the sermon. 
 Eagerly they listened, as if he had brought 
 news from a battle. 
 
 "It was a doctrine sermon sure enough," he 
 said. "Nobody went out, but many a head 
 came away shakin', and the opinion is he's 
 goin' to have a putty hard pull in buildin' up 
 the church. But it wa'n't altogether about the 
 infants, for that was to be expected, bein' 
 blow'd in the bottle. He let slip somethin' 
 about slavery, and then there was coughin' 
 and the clearin' of throats." 
 
 "About slavery!" cried the professor. "I 
 didn't know he had the valor."
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 159 
 
 "The what, sir?" demanded old Horner. 
 
 "The courage," said the professor. 
 
 "Sir," exclaimed Horner, "you may call it 
 courage, but there are in this neighborhood a 
 good many folks that will call it a crime. And 
 while I'm about it, I'd like to give you a little 
 advice. Keep your mouth shut on that sub 
 ject, if you don't want people to ask what's 
 the matter with it. Sir, I wish you good- 
 day." 
 
 Not a word was spoken until the old fellow 
 had mounted his horse, and then as we all of 
 us were looking after him, Mrs. Emory re 
 marked: "That will be the end of Mr. Hoover 
 in this community." 
 
 "Ah," replied the professor, "but it will not 
 be the end of his principles. They may refuse 
 to hear him or they may put him in jail, as 
 they are now doing men in Illinois, but they 
 cannot " 
 
 "Walter," she broke in with a gesture at 
 me a gesture made only with her eyes. 
 
 The professor turned to me. "Turk, if 
 there should be a war between the North and 
 the South, which side would you fight for?" 
 
 "The South, sir," I answered.
 
 160 '" TURK " 
 
 "What, poverty-stricken as you are? What 
 would you have to gain?" 
 
 "My people all came from South Carolina," 
 I replied, and in my soul I felt that this was a 
 scythe-stroke argument that cut down equally 
 the dried and the green grasses of opposition; 
 but the professor smiled pityingly and replied, 
 "And in that will lie the death of a hundred 
 thousand Southern fools. Go out and look 
 after the horses." 
 
 Depending from a limb of the great oak 
 tree in the front yard, was a grape-vine swing 
 with a notched board fitted in the loop, and 
 upon returning from the barn, in the glow of 
 the sunset, I found Nan swinging, a sight not 
 unusual; but now on her face was a new 
 expression. Or was it but the light of the 
 dying sun blending with the light of her 
 countenance? Restrained by a spirit of 
 inquiry, I halted, gazing at her, and she 
 resented my scrutiny with the making of a 
 mouth at me a rosebud bursting and de 
 manded an explanation of my impudence. 
 
 A boy's awkwardness may explain his 
 embarrassment; but no words he can employ 
 will grace an impertinence. I gazed at her as
 
 "1 FOUND NAN SWINGING*
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 161 
 
 she now stood with her arms about the vine, 
 her feet firmly planted on the ground worn 
 smooth of grass. Could so divine a light illu 
 mine the face of a girl so wanting in human 
 kindness? Was her soul so independent and 
 apart from her mundane nature as not to 
 influence her tongue and her actions toward 
 one who she must have seen was suffering? 
 
 "What are you gazing at me for?" 
 
 "I thought something in your eye told me 
 to stop and look at you," was my answer. 
 
 "Something in my eye? A piece of bark 
 from the grape-vine," she said, looking 
 upward. 
 
 She possessed that lying quality that made 
 of her something of a humorist. Even her 
 seriousness was an exaggeration. She was a 
 picture drawn with swift strokes, graceful in 
 violation of art. I remembered hearing an 
 old man remark, in speaking of a woman; 
 "She has been a life study to me," and I won 
 dered if fortune or rather misfortune would 
 decree that during all of my life Nan should 
 be my study. Amy was a student and knew 
 things which one expected that she would 
 know. Nan was a skimmer of books and
 
 162 4 TURK " 
 
 knew that which awakened surprise; but in 
 skimming did she not harvest the cream? 
 
 Upon the fields browned by the sapping sun, 
 the dusk was settling. The professor came to 
 the door of the "big" room and told us to 
 come in to prayers. Nan laughed, and I 
 laughed, too; but when I did, she frowned a 
 darker brown than the dun-colored air. Pray 
 ers! What was it that had so. moved the head 
 of the household? This was the first time 
 since my coming that the evening was sancti 
 fied by prayer. Beside an old horse-hair sofa 
 the professor knelt, his wife near with her 
 arms upon a chair. Nan waited for me to 
 kneel, biding the time of my embarrassment, 
 for one unaccustomed to praying goes about 
 it awkwardly. Somehow I managed to get 
 down upon my knees, and a cat came out 
 from a corner and began to rub against me. 
 I heard Nan titter, and shut my eyes, but then 
 I jumped. Had the cat bitten me? I looked 
 up and saw that Nan had her face devotion- 
 ally buried in her hands, but a pin gleamed 
 between her fingers; and I knew that she was 
 the cat that had bitten me. In his petition 
 the professor did not ask the Lord to sift His
 
 A KNOCK AT THE DOOR . 163 
 
 blessings broadcast over the earth. He 
 begged that soon might come the time when 
 the sword of just wrath, stripped of its too- 
 long-sheathing scabbard, would flash in the 
 eyes of men who bought and sold human flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 Arising, he fixed his schoolmaster eye on 
 me and said, "Turk, I wish to make a Chris 
 tian of you," and then from Nan there came a 
 laughter-scream. 
 
 "Why, father, how can you make a Chris 
 tian out of a Turk?" 
 
 It was his habit to reprove her, but with 
 such mildness as to give occasion for repeated 
 offense; but now he was severe. He stormed 
 at her with such loss of temper that his wife 
 spoke up: 
 
 "Why, Waiter, you are forgetting yourself." 
 
 "My dear, I am not. This child has been 
 permitted to romp over us until she has for 
 gotten all duty. Nan, go to bed." 
 
 For her that was severe punishment, as she 
 was often the last to go to bed and the first to 
 get up. Her mother began to plead for her; 
 and I am sure the professor would have with 
 drawn his mandate if Nan had shown sign of
 
 164 "TURK" 
 
 repentance; but she didn't. She took hold o[ 
 the brass knob of the stairway door, made us 
 a bow, and was gone, and out of the room a 
 sullen light seemed to go with her; but sud 
 denly there shone down a bright light, and 
 looking up I saw that without noise she had 
 opened the door again and was looking down 
 upon us. But neither the professor nor his 
 wife saw the light, and slowly it was extin 
 guished she had withdrawn her face and had 
 shut the door. 
 
 Not knowing how often prayers might be 
 repeated when once they were begun in a 
 family circle, I inquired of the professor if he 
 were going to pray again, and his wife shed 
 upon my ignorance a kindly smile; but he did 
 not appear pleased and, I believe, would have 
 said something to show his impatience, but 
 just at that moment there came a quick 
 knocking at the outer door. 
 
 "Coming," cried the professor, taking the 
 candle from the mantelpiece. But the knock 
 ing was repeated, and a voice out in the dark 
 ness cried, "For God's sake open the door."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THEY HAD COME FOR HIM 
 
 HE PROFESSOR opened the door, 
 and in rushed Mr. Hoover, bare of 
 head and with his clothes tbrn by 
 brambles. Before offering any ex 
 planation of his frightening appearance, he 
 begged the professor for the Lord's sake to 
 shut the door and to put out the light, and 
 with that he puffed out the candle himself. It 
 is hard enough to soothe a frightened man in 
 the light and almost impossible in the dark; 
 for to assure one that there is no danger we 
 must employ manner and countenance. So 
 the professor, calling on his wife to fetch a 
 match, muttered aimlessly until the candle 
 was relighted, and then inquired, "Whose 
 mare's dead?" 
 
 This struck me as being a most foolish 
 remark for a wise man, upon an occasion of 
 such strain and expectancy; and it was not 
 till years afterward that I learned that he had 
 
 quoted the Fat Knight who thus had cried 
 
 165
 
 166 "TURK" 
 
 out upon entering the precincts of a broil in 
 the street. 
 
 "Walter," said Mrs. Emory, "don't be rude." 
 She was as ignorant as I concerning this quo 
 tation; but the preacher was not, for, leaning 
 against the wall and still panting from his 
 headlong-run through the thickets, he replied, 
 "No Fang and Quickly suit presses me, Mr. 
 Emory. I have run for my life." 
 
 I wondered why a man so scared and so 
 short of breath did not tell what was the mat 
 ter rather than to waste his words with so 
 weak and foolish a speech; but the professor 
 understood him. 
 
 "Ah," said he, ' your words in church the 
 mob. I see. But come in and sit down. 
 Turk, get down that shotgun.' 
 
 We went into the sitting-room. The min 
 ister sat down with his hands gripped upon 
 the candlestand. I stood near with the gun, 
 sentinel over his story, and we waited for him 
 to proceed, the professor in the rocking-chair 
 leaning forward, and his wife standing with her 
 arm resting high upon the mantelpiece. The 
 stair door slightly creaked, and the black eye 
 of Nan shot its spears of light into the room.
 
 THEY HAD COME FOR HIM 167 
 
 This was the story: The minister had left 
 the church, more than half inclined to believe 
 that he had not been wise; still there had 
 been no outbreak. But during the drive 
 home the farmer with whom he lived did not 
 speak to him, and when they had drawn up at 
 the yard gate the farmer said: 
 
 "This is the last time I'll hear you preach, 
 and more than that, I think you can find 
 another place better suited to your nigger- 
 lovin' idee. So pack up your duds and get out." 
 
 It was no time to talk over the matter; for 
 the farmer swore, although a member of the 
 church, and this was taken by the preacher as 
 a hint too broad to be mistaken. So he went 
 into the house and began to pack his books. 
 Many of the volumes were precious, and 
 therefore were not to be thrown roughly into 
 a box; these lectures of Phillips and the 
 wrathful tirades of Garrison were not neck- 
 broken criminals harshly to be coffined; so 
 the work was done with respectful delibera 
 tion. And there, too, was a portrait of old 
 Macaulay, slavery-hating father of the great 
 historian; and that must be decently wrapped 
 in muslin. As with strips of cloth the
 
 168 ' TURK " 
 
 preacher was mummying Mr. Macaulay, there 
 came a shout at the gate. Horses were heard 
 trampling, and there was a sharp cry of 
 "Whoa!" The riders evidently had reached 
 their destination. The preacher halted in his 
 work and stood listening with a ribbon of 
 muslin in his hand. 
 
 He heard the farmer go out. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "Some of the boys." 
 
 "What do you want, boys?" 
 
 "Want you, if you try to protect him." 
 
 "Catch me protectin' him. Think I'd do 
 such a thing as that? Come in and help your 
 selves to him." 
 
 "All right. Got a barrel we can tie him 
 over?" 
 
 "Got a tub I scald hogs in." 
 
 "That'll do. Get down, boys." 
 
 This little idiomatic conversation was all 
 that the preacher heard. He went through 
 the window, and scandalous report said that 
 for more than a mile he carried the window 
 sash with him, about his neck like a yoke, 
 though at a later and a quieter day conserva 
 tism modified the report.
 
 THEY HAD COME FOR HIM 169 
 
 "Well," inquired the professor, "do you 
 know whether or not they have followed 
 you?" 
 
 "Of course they have. I heard their horses 
 galloping." 
 
 "But if you can outrun a horse, you are all 
 right." 
 
 We used to say that the professor had a 
 sawdust idea of humor. The minister winced, 
 and the professor turned his face aside to 
 laugh. He couldn't help it. The thought of 
 subjecting a friend even in principle to a whip 
 ping over a tub used to scald hogs in was 
 upsetting to his dignity. Nan's eye was blaz 
 ing with laughter, and Mrs. Emory herself 
 strove to look sadder than she felt. The pro 
 fessor turned about with as grave a face as I 
 have ever seen, and opened his mouth to say 
 something, but his countenance flew into 
 mirthful cracks. 
 
 "Mr. Emory," said the preacher, "this is 
 nothing to laugh at." 
 
 "Laugh at, sir! Laugh at such distress and 
 in my own house, too? I assure you I am 
 am most properly indignant. But the idea of 
 that farmer saying, 'Help yourselves to him!'
 
 170 ' TURK " 
 
 It was most idiomatic, I assure you, and I have 
 always held that the idiom should be pre 
 served. As long as a language has an idiom, 
 it is growing, and 
 
 "Hush, I hear something," commanded the 
 preacher. 
 
 The professor, now ashamed of his mirth, 
 snatched the gun from me and stood near the 
 door, while Mrs. Emory took two derringers 
 from a shell-covered box on the mantelpiece, 
 handed one to the minister, and cocking the 
 other one remarked, "We will protect you, 
 sir." 
 
 Mr. Hoover arose with a bow that did him 
 credit. "Madam, I thank you. It were worth 
 this ignominy, to be defended by so noble a 
 matron." 
 
 That was high talk, it tingled me, and for 
 hours I could have listened to it; but where 
 was my weapon? Was I, sole remnant of a 
 historic feud, to stand there like the proverbial 
 poor boy at a frolic? I wished for the words 
 ^f the preacher, that I might say something 
 heroic; but I could not summon them out of 
 the dark caverns of my ancestral ignorance. 
 Yet, hungry for a part in a battle and regard-
 
 THEY HAD COME FOR HIM 171 
 
 less of causes or of consequences, I begged 
 Mrs. Emory to let me take her pistol. 
 
 "But," broke in the professor, "you are not 
 an abolitionist and this is a fight against 
 slavery." 
 
 "That makes no difference," I cried. "I am 
 in this house, and if anybody comes to break 
 into it I ought to be in the fight." 
 
 "Louise, the boy's argument is good," 
 replied the professor. "Give him the pistol." 
 
 She handed it to me, and in an ecstasy I 
 kissed its broad mouth. Against my temple I 
 pressed it and seemed to feel a pulse beating 
 in unison with my own. I cocked it, and see 
 ing that on the nipple there was no cap, anx 
 iously inquired of Mrs. Emory if it were 
 loaded. 
 
 "No; but it will do to frighten them with," 
 she said, and at this very moment there came 
 a rap upon the door. 
 
 The professor stepped back, cocked his gun, 
 and demanded, "Who's there?" 
 
 I leaped to his side, humiliated with an 
 empty weapon, but raising it ready to strike. 
 "Who's there?" repeated the professor, and a 
 thin voice answered, "It's me."
 
 172 " TURK " 
 
 "Who's me? Speak out." 
 
 "Am speakin' out, as you won't let me in." 
 
 "It's Nick!" exclaimed the preacher. 
 
 The professor opened the door, and Nick 
 stalked in. "Howdy do, all hands? Mr. 
 Hoover, them fellers from over the creek 
 sent me to tell you they wa'n't goin' to hurt 
 you. They made it up to skeer you, an' I 
 reckon they've done it." 
 
 "Villains!" exclaimed Mr. Hoover, "I'll have 
 them put in jail." 
 
 "Well, that's what they told me to tell you. 
 Lot of cowardly whelps. Me and Turk could 
 take a couple of corn-cobs and run the whole 
 passul of 'em into the river. Folks, I ain't 
 had no supper and, while my mind's on it, 
 I'd like to have a bite to eat." 
 
 And thus it was all a rough joke, but to the 
 good man's reputation more harm was done 
 than if it had been an executed reality. The 
 fact that he ran away lightened the weight of 
 his arguments, and the report that he had 
 carried away the window sash plucked all 
 solemnity from his texts.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HELD HER HAND 
 
 N ATTEMPT was made to punish 
 the marauders; but the officers of 
 the law winked at one another and 
 nothing was done. Mr. Hoover 
 wrote a long piece to be printed in a church 
 paper and came over to read it to us. I 
 thought that it must have great weight with 
 the reading public, for I could scarcely under 
 stand a word of it. I was never able, how 
 ever, to determine the effect wrought by his 
 pen, but I know that his congregation dwin 
 dled until he was forced to console himself 
 with a text which promises blessing to a few 
 that gather together. 
 
 About this time there came another season 
 of hard work, the cutting and housing of the 
 tobacco. If I had an enemy and hated him 
 almost to the point of letting the blood out of 
 his heart, I could wish him no greater punish 
 ment than a sentence to the labor of cutting 
 
 tobacco. The stalk and the leaves are covered 
 
 173
 
 174 "TURK" 
 
 with a thick gum, and when the plant begins 
 to wilt in the hot sun, there arises from it an 
 odor so sickening as to turn away a sniffing 
 dog. In almost all sorts of field labor, men 
 are disposed to talk; old men discuss religion, 
 and younger ones the things they would like 
 to do, or the money to be found at the end of 
 the rainbow; but men cutting tobacco always 
 appear to be sullen, with no hope far away in 
 the turn-row. Steaming and sticky, itchy, and 
 ever on the verge of nausea, they look long 
 ingly at a cloud becalmed in the distant sky, 
 wondering if it will ever parasol them from 
 the rays of the blistering sun. 
 
 The sky in August may have been purple, a 
 reflection of the ripening earth; but in Sep 
 tember it is a great brass kettle, inverted. 
 There have been a few chilly mornings, the 
 first advertisements of winter's tragic book, 
 and the sun, warned of his coming loss of 
 power, gathers in all his fuel for a final effort. 
 Left free to roam in the woods, how I should 
 have dreamily worshiped that season of the 
 year! Never had the creek murmured with 
 so low and so sweet a music. The leaves on 
 the great saw briars were turning red, and the
 
 HELD HER HAND 175 
 
 air was laden with the thrilling scent of the 
 green walnut. The weather was dry, and far 
 away, on the verge of every hill, a slight dust 
 was constantly rising about the fancied horses 
 of feud bands galloping to battle in the valley. 
 
 One Sunday morning, when in the creek and 
 with lye soap I had cleansed myself from the 
 tobacco's fuzz and gum, I lay on the grass in 
 the yard, wishing that life were an eternal rest 
 day. A man halloed at the gate, waving 
 something in his hand. Nan ran out, and as 
 she was returning, I heard her cry, "Oh, a let 
 ter from Amy !" 
 
 I scrambled up to join in the excitement, 
 and by courtesy was suffered to sit in the door 
 while Mrs. Emory read the letter aloud. The 
 writer began by telling how beautiful every 
 thing was, and how much she was in love with 
 her surroundings. Never before had she 
 known that any one could learn so. rapidly. 
 "And every one is so kind to me," she went 
 on. "You would think that I am the sister of 
 all the girls and the daughter of all the teach 
 ers. Last night we had a ball, and I never 
 saw anything so lovely. The music was too 
 sweet for anything, and I wore my white mull.
 
 176 " TURK " 
 
 Of course I want to see you all, but I'm not a 
 bit homesick; I'm so anxious to get an educa 
 tion, so that I may reflect some little credit 
 on the parents who have been so kind to 
 me." 
 
 "She doesn't tell anything, and she doesn't 
 write as if she were in a fair way to get much 
 of an education," said the professor. 
 
 "Walter," his wife replied, "do, for good 
 ness' sake, give the child a chance. Having 
 been a teacher so many years, you ought to 
 know that learning is not a jewel to be found 
 in a day. It requires persistent effort." 
 Slowly she began to put the letter back into 
 the envelope. "It has always been a mystery 
 to me why you have such a contempt for col 
 leges, being a college-bred man and for so 
 long a time a professor. Why is it, Walter?" 
 
 "Haven't I told you that among professors 
 I had bitter and destroying enemies?" 
 
 "But if they had been ignorant, wouldn't the 
 situation have been the same?" 
 
 "Decidedly not," said the professor. "If 
 they had been ignorant, I should never have 
 met them, but let us change the subject. Are 
 you going to church to-day?"
 
 HELD HER HAND 177 
 
 "It is hardly worth while to ask me that 
 question," she replied. "I am not recovered 
 from my antipathy to seeing infants sent to 
 torment." 
 
 "But, my dear, Mr. Hoover is in need of 
 hearers." 
 
 "And so should be every man who believes 
 as he does." 
 
 "But if I ask you as a special favor, will you 
 go?" 
 
 "Yes, for you I am willing to undergo almost 
 any hardship." 
 
 "If you put it that way, we won't go. I con 
 fess that I don't like Hoover's extremes 
 absurdities if you will; but he and I hold in 
 common many ideas of governmental polity 
 and social reform, and as I am afraid that a 
 hint well, you might say a suggestion from 
 me caused him to declaim against slavery, 
 why, I am conscientiously impelled to make, 
 at this time of strained relationships between 
 him and the people make one of his hearers. 
 I believe him to be a courageous man. Wait 
 a moment. Any man would hesitate to stand 
 and face a howling mob, steeped in ignorance 
 and standing back from the perpetration of
 
 178 "TURK" 
 
 no crime, when once fired with a taste of 
 infamous excitement; and " 
 
 "Turk," said Mrs. Emory, "hitch up the 
 horses." 
 
 When the barouche was made ready, the 
 kind woman told me that if I so desired I 
 might remain at home; and she must have 
 been surprised at my answer: "I'd like mighty 
 well to go, ma'm." And I had told the truth. 
 He was so human on the night he came hat- 
 less and almost shirtless to our house, that to 
 my mind he had undergone quite a reforma 
 tion. Somehow, I don't know why, I have 
 always liked to see a man standing well down 
 on the earth. No exalted mind ever regarded 
 meanness with more of loathing than I look 
 upon snobbery. One cold night I slept with a 
 horse thief, and I gave him more than half of 
 the cover; but I would have sat up all night 
 covered with frost rather than to have slept 
 with a snob. 
 
 Nan and I sat together, and she pinched me 
 to make me cry out; but she might have 
 picked me to pieces and I would have smiled 
 on her. So I have seen a wild boar-shote 
 have his ears torn off by dogs and never give
 
 HELD HER HAND 179 
 
 forth a sound. After a time she asked me if 
 I were enjoying the ride, and I told her that I 
 was happy, and in a way I was. To sit there 
 beside that hateful creature was a happiness, 
 although a torture. After a while she seemed 
 to repent of her cruelty. She whispered that 
 I might hold her hand. And this thrilled me 
 more than any of her pinches, but I was too 
 proud to show m^ joy. 
 
 "No, thank you," I whispered in her ear, "I 
 will wait till Amy comes home and " 
 
 "She won't speak to you. Hold my hand, 
 sir." 
 
 I held her hand, longing to kiss it held it, 
 and the old field through which we were pass 
 ing bloomed forth in a million dazzling colors. 
 Far away in the sky a buzzard was balancing 
 himself, and he looked like an angel dropping 
 slowly from heaven! 
 
 "Do you like me?" I whispered. 
 
 "I like puppy dogs, but not as well as 
 kittens." 
 
 This set us both to tittering, and the profes 
 sor turned partly round in his seat and said, 
 "Behave back there." 
 
 I waited till again he and his wife were
 
 180 "TURK" 
 
 engaged in earnest talk, and then I whispered, 
 "If your other hand's cold I'll hold that, too." 
 
 "Cold! It's burning up." 
 
 "Then let me blow on it to cool it like a hot 
 potato." 
 
 "That would scorch it. Turn my hand 
 loose. Do you think I let you hold it because 
 I like you? I didn't. I just wanted to see 
 how big a fool you were." 
 
 She took her hand away, and the buzzard 
 was a buzzard in the air, and the old field was 
 covered with yellow sedge grass, and the road 
 was deep with dust. 
 
 Now we were within a short distance of the 
 meeting-house. We had only to go through 
 a skirt of timber, through another field, and 
 then into the grove wherein once of Sundays 
 so many horses were tied; but as we neared 
 the place we saw no horses, and no hymn 
 came with the soft wind. But the air was 
 heavy with a smell that was not of the ripened 
 year. Closer we drew, and suddenly the pro 
 fessor exclaimed, "The infamous devils!" 
 
 The church was a heap of smoldering ashes.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 
 
 HE HOUSE had been of wood and, 
 dried by a long season of the sun, 
 had burned like a haystack. It 
 was evident that the fire had been 
 kindled only a few hours before our arrival. 
 In the dusty road near-by there were fresh 
 tracks of horses and of tires, showing that 
 other members of Hoover's small flock had 
 come and departed. We halted long enough 
 to drink from the spring which bubbled clear 
 from beneath a hillock of gravel, but the 
 water was not so sweet as the eternal vintage 
 of Old Blood; and such was my remark, but 
 the professor frowned upon me. 
 
 "No more comparison, sir," said he, "than 
 with water dipped from a hollow stump. Get 
 in, and we will drive." 
 
 It was thought well to enlarge upon our 
 Christian duties to the extent of making 
 inquiries concerning the present whereabouts 
 of the preacher. To surmise that his bones 
 
 181
 
 182 " TURK ' 
 
 were roasting in the ashes would have lent 
 glamour to the situation; but the mere hint of 
 it gave Mrs. Emory the shudders, though I 
 believe that Nan would have helped us to 
 rake the dying embers. 
 
 The farmhouse in which Mr. Hoover had 
 made his home was not more than three miles 
 distant, and thither we drove. The farmer 
 came out to the fence with no very friendly 
 greeting for us and, when questioned, said 
 that he had a notebook in which he made it a 
 point to keep track of things, such as early 
 and late frosts, the coming of insects, and the 
 appearance of strange lights in the sky; but 
 that he had entered no word concerning the 
 preacher. He was a little, nervous old fel 
 low, and chewed tobacco like a sheep chewing 
 grass. 
 
 "But you are aware of the fact, I suppose, 
 that they have burned down his church," said 
 the professor. 
 
 "As a general thing I have kept track of 
 fires, too," said the old fellow, standing with 
 one foot resting on a wheelbarrow. "I can 
 give you the very day and almost the hour 
 when old Howerson's haystack burned, and I
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 183 
 
 believe, though I'm not quite certain, I made 
 a 'randum of the fire in Anderson's shed; but 
 my book don't tell me anything about the 
 burnin' of Hoover's nigger-house." 
 
 "His church was burned down last night or 
 early this morning, sir," said the professor. 
 
 "Wall, that reminds me that I did git up 
 earlier this mornin' than usual, thinkin' that 
 the sun was risin'. The light I seed must 
 have come from the burnin' of the nigger- 
 house." 
 
 "Sir," exclaimed the professor, "some one 
 will have to answer for it." 
 
 "Oh, it ain't that bad. Don't make much 
 difference what time I get up." 
 
 "I mean, sir, for the burning of that church." 
 
 "Oh! Well, go out and call the roll, and 
 see how many will answer." 
 
 "I had expected, sir, that you were gentle 
 man enough to take this matter more seri 
 ously." 
 
 "Yes. You know I used to take things to 
 heart mightily? I did; but I quit it since old 
 Bud Wherry fretted himself to death over the 
 loss of a red heifer." 
 
 I sat back almost smothered with laughter.
 
 184 " TURK " 
 
 How it tingled and tickled me! How it 
 belonged to the blood of my shiftless race 
 thus to quibble; in trifling manner to drawl 
 out words of apparent unconcern, to gape 
 with surprise at an incident of no moment, to 
 grin at a tragedy, and to assume a color of 
 stupidity deeper than the hue of ignorance- 
 how like the unlettered white of the South! 
 
 "I believe, sir," said the professor, "that you 
 have a shrewd idea as to who set fire to that 
 house." 
 
 "Walter," his wife began to caution him, 
 "let us not get into any discussion. Let us 
 drive on home." And she took up the lines. 
 
 "My dear, wait a moment. Sir, I believe 
 your name is Buck Riddleberry Buck. Gods, 
 what a name!" 
 
 "Walter," said his wife; and Nan pinched 
 me. 
 
 "Well," drawled the farmer, "I don't know 
 as it's much worse than Buck Riddleberry 
 would be. I take it that you are Professor 
 Emory." 
 
 "I am Mister Emory, sir.' 
 
 "Yes. You are the feller, they say, who 
 lives without work. Tell me how you do it,
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 185 
 
 and I'll build you a nigger-house three times 
 as big. You know I love the shade better 
 than any man you ever seed. Sometimes I've 
 thought I must have been born in the shade. 
 Wouldn't it look that way to you? Plant any 
 sorghum molasses this year?" 
 
 "Sir, an officer of the law will call on you." 
 
 "You know I ought to be an officer of the 
 law myse'f ? I ought, for my grandaddy shot 
 a constable." 
 
 The professor took up the lines, cast upon 
 Mr. Riddleberry Buck a look of contempt, and 
 drove off. I looked back and saw the old fel 
 low standing in the yard, with his hands 
 behind him, and with his neck stretched out 
 toward us. 
 
 "It is said," remarked the professor, "that a 
 certain phase of American character is slowly 
 passing away. Would that the passing were 
 faster. There are thousands of ways to work 
 other than with a hoe; but unless one goes 
 out and delves in the field, the people of this 
 community term him lazy. Turk, I am get 
 ting up a school reader that will as far surpass 
 old McGuffy as well, as far as McGuffy sur 
 passes Goodrich."
 
 186 " TURK " 
 
 "They use McGuffy at Old Blood, sir," I 
 remarked, and the professor turned about 
 with a snarl. 
 
 "Will you desist, sir, from ever again men 
 tioning that name to me? It is hateful in my 
 ears. If you think that on your part it is 
 impossible, go and live with Buck Riddleton 
 Buck, sir." 
 
 "I believe I could run back there and learn 
 something about the preacher," I said, and 
 Mrs. Emory spoke up. 
 
 "That wouldn't be a bad idea, Walter. 
 Turk, you run back, and we'll wait here in the 
 shade." 
 
 I jumped out and halted a moment, hoping 
 that Nan would offer to go with me ; but she 
 didn't; so I ran back as fast as I could and 
 found the old fellow walking up and down in 
 the yard. 
 
 "Come in," he called out pleasantly enough; 
 and when I entered the enclosure he said, "I 
 believe you and me are sorter kin." I had no 
 idea of any relationship and told him so, 
 whereupon he said, "Well, in a way one of 
 my ways. Them fellers that whipped you 
 that time caught me over by the crossroads
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 187 
 
 the same evenin', and lit into me for nothin' 
 in the world except that they had been 
 drinkin', and larruped me till I couldn't more'n 
 git home. I've never mentioned it before 
 don't like to tell about bein' whipped, you 
 know. I heard about you lookin' for 'em, and 
 I looked, too, and I hope that one of these 
 days the good Lord with His many blessin's 
 will let me find 'em. They sent you back to 
 find out something, eh?" 
 
 I told him that I had returned upon my own 
 suggestion, and he laughed. "Yes, you are 
 closer to me than them folks. He's a putty 
 high-headed feller for a man with his fence 
 corners full of weeds. Now, about the burnin' 
 of that church I don't know who done it. 
 Mebby it was the fellers that skeered the 
 preacher, and mebby it was just one man that 
 sneaked over there jest befo' the sun riz. 
 More likely one man; but I tell the truth 
 when I say I don't know who. A good many 
 enemies have riz up ag'in Hoover; but there 
 ain't goin' to be much inquiry by the law. 
 The place had begun to stink of nigger wool, 
 you know." 
 
 "But where is the preacher now?" I inquired.
 
 188 " TURK " 
 
 "Well, I let him stay here till last night to 
 give him plenty of time to git his duds away 
 and then hauled him over to a cabin on the 
 Austin Branch, about two miles from here. 
 He's goin' to stay there till he can get clear of 
 the neighborhood. My opinyine is, he's goin' 
 up North and lecture ag'in the white folks 
 down here; and it don't make no diffunce 
 how ignunt a man is nor how big a liar, when 
 he goes up there to talk about the South, they 
 put sugar on him and swallow him whole. 
 You'll find him in the cabin over thar a 
 washin' of his shirts, if it wan't Sunday. 
 Want a dram?" 
 
 I got away from him faster than I had come. 
 Were those racing stars never to fade from 
 the dark sky of my lowering mind? Was that 
 spurt of a new current, hotter than the blood 
 of a sweet revenge, ever to remain in my 
 memory? Of fighting, the gods grew weary 
 and rested, but old Satan never tires. 
 
 Nan lifted the leather curtain and peeped 
 at me as I came running through the dust. 
 And, when panting I climbed into the vehicle, 
 the professor inquired, "Is he after you, sir?" 
 
 My news was received with much satisfac-
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 189 
 
 tion, and touching up the horse we drove 
 toward the preacher's cabin, a mere hut near 
 a rivulet. Nan cried out at the romantic 
 beauty of the scene as we approached: the 
 spreading trees, the green grass sheltered 
 from the burning sun, the wild vines; but the 
 professor was sad as he viewed the place of 
 lonely banishment, and he repented having 
 laughed when the frightened man came run 
 ning out of the dark night. 
 
 "I ought to have been more serious," said 
 he. "Ah, and in my heartless levity how 
 much did I differ from that that infernal 
 Riddleberry Buck? Frail, frail, all of us. I 
 ought not to have laughed at his distress." 
 
 The cabin was low and covered with clap 
 boards. From a chimney, built of sticks and 
 roughly plastered with mud, a slow coil of 
 smoke was issuing into the still air. On the 
 thick mat of grass the wheels made no sound. 
 The door stood open. The professor halloed, 
 but there was no answer from within the 
 cabin. Thereupon we got out of the barouche 
 and approached the door. There was no one 
 within, but a fire was burning on the flag 
 stone hearth, and on the coals a pot was boil-
 
 190 " TURK " 
 
 ing. We entered. On the table was a bread 
 trough, and in it made-up meal in preparation 
 for a corn cake. From a rafter hung a flitch 
 of bacon. In a corner was a low bed, spread 
 with a red blanket. All these features, so 
 homely of ordinary life in our part of the 
 country, might have told of an abode other 
 than that of the preacher's; but in another 
 corner were boxes of books, piled one upon 
 another until the top one reached well up to 
 the rafters, and there, too, in the dusk was the 
 portrait of the elder Macaulay, with hard-set 
 lips, grim and determined in the gloom. 
 
 "This is the place," said the professor. 
 "Now I wonder where our unfortunate friend 
 can be?" 
 
 Of further speculation we were relieved, 
 for at that moment there fell a footstep at the 
 door, and in came Mr. Hoover carrying a pail 
 of water. Our greeting of him was as hearty 
 as if we had found him in the snuggest of 
 quarters, and upon us he shed the smile of 
 martyred contentment. He placed the pail 
 on the floor, stepped toward Mrs. Emory, and 
 then moving backward to make a bow upset 
 the water and said that he was honored.
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 191 
 
 This set Nan to giggling, and the professor 
 was constrained to rasp his throat at her a 
 number of times before she desisted. 
 
 "My dear brother," said the professor, "we 
 have come to express our sorrow and to 
 assure you of our sympathy. You indeed 
 have cause to cry out against the injustice of 
 a so-called civilization. We admire your 
 determination to adhere to the right; but why 
 have you so so projected an inroad upon 
 your own comfort as to take up your abode in 
 this place? Sir, I humbly offer to you the 
 shelter of my modest roof." 
 
 There are certain schools of theology that 
 seem to temper a man against all forms of 
 emotion. All phases of the gospel must be 
 regarded with cool reserve, and all life must 
 be accepted as the mandate of unalterable 
 Providence. Mr. Hoover had gone through 
 one of these schools, and without a tremor of 
 voice he could sentence the soul of a child to 
 the "lake of molten lead" but still he was not 
 devoid of feeling. Of this he had given evi 
 dence on two occasions: once when with most 
 human flight he cleft the dark wind, and now 
 when a tear gleamed in his eye.
 
 192 " TURK " 
 
 "No," he said, "I must abide here until the 
 proper time of my departure. And, indeed, 
 what could be more in keeping with the 
 despairing spirit of man? But I assure you 
 that I am not unhappy here. I am so close to 
 nature that I feel all of her throbs and her 
 pains. Indeed, so contented have 1 been here 
 that I scarcely note the passing of time. 
 Beneath this tree, I am living poetry. Here 
 is the forest of Arden. Yonder is the rivulet 
 where, in my fancy, the wounded deer weeps 
 'into the needless stream.' On the green 
 boughs hangs many a sonnet for the lover of 
 nature. All this I shall embody into a ser 
 mon and preach it to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow!" said Mrs. Emory, glancing at 
 the professor, who blinked his eyes in aston 
 ishment. 
 
 "To-morrow," repeated the preacher, "I will 
 go to my humble rostrum as of yore and, 
 fresh from these cool mosses, bring words of 
 comfort. Yes, to-morrow, another Sabbath." 
 
 I expected that Nan would titter, but she 
 didn't. With the rest of us she looked 
 serious. The good man had lived in poetry 
 until he had lost track of the days.
 
 A SHELTERLESS FLOCK 193 
 
 "Mr. Hoover," said the professor, "this is 
 Sunday, and we went over to hear you preach, 
 but " 
 
 "Sunday! You astonish me. Sunday! Why, 
 I must have disappointed my flock." 
 
 "Mr. Hoover," said the professor, "your 
 shepherdless flock is without shelter. Some 
 one has burned your church." 
 
 I was closely watching the preacher's face, 
 and the change in his countenance put me in 
 mind of the shadow of a leaf waving across a 
 limestone rock. We stood in silence, and it 
 was some time before he spoke. When he 
 did speak, it was as if his words came rum 
 bling low from a great distance. 
 
 "This means that I must now buckle on my 
 armor. Upon the stone shall be whetted 
 sharp the sword, and up among the hills and 
 down in the valleys shall be heard the cry, 
 'To. your tents, O Israel.' '
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 
 
 ITHOUT another word the minister 
 turned away. The professor spoke 
 to him; but as one in a daze, he 
 walked out of the door and down 
 the hill toward the rivulet. Mrs. Emory ran 
 forward and, taking him by the arm as he was 
 about to cross the stream, begged him to get 
 into the barouche, but gently he put her back 
 from him and waded through the water. We 
 watched him as he climbed the ridge that ran 
 along at the base of a higher hill, and here he 
 halted, turned, and waving his hand, rumbled 
 back at us, "To your tents, O Israel." 
 
 "He is making it rather too theatrical to 
 suit me," said the professor, motioning us 
 toward the vehicle. "Come, let us be going. 
 No use to watch him, Louise. He looks as if 
 he's going to play the gladiator. And that is 
 the American trouble. We are too shallow 
 and showy." 
 
 "Surely he's not going to leave all his
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 195 
 
 books," remarked Mrs. Emory, gazing after 
 the preacher, who was now ascending the 
 hill. 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the professor. "He will 
 be back with his band-wagon." 
 
 "Oh, Walter, don't talk that way." 
 
 We got into the vehicle and were driving 
 along when the professor remarked, "We are 
 no doubt on the eve of a great revolution of 
 some sort; but it will be conducted by greater 
 minds than Mr. Hoover's. I have striven to 
 enter into well, what I might almost term 
 sacred relationship with him; but somehow 
 there is that about him well, something I 
 don't like. What is it, eh, Turk?" 
 
 He reached round and touched me with his 
 whip. "His eyes pop out too much, I think, 
 sir," was my reply. 
 
 Mrs. Emory in a kindly way reproved me, 
 but the professor cried out, "That's it, pop- 
 eyes talk much. There's too much talk about 
 him." 
 
 But his wife did not agree. Within the 
 radiation of her sympathy, the preacher did 
 not reside until she had entered his lowly 
 cabin; but at that moment pity cloaked him
 
 196 " TURK " 
 
 about, made of him a martyr and therefore a 
 hero. 
 
 "You didn't care for him until he put on his 
 grease-paint," said the professor. 
 
 "I don't understand you," she replied. 
 
 "Until he made up," said the professor. 
 
 "Made up! I'm sure he is sincere." 
 
 "So he was when he sent infants to tor 
 ment." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think he quite meant to do 
 that. And, besides, there are thousands of 
 liberal-minded people who believe as he does." 
 
 "Well, hardly liberal-minded," retorted the 
 professor. 
 
 "Devout-minded, then," she insisted. 
 
 I could not bring myself to the point of lik 
 ing the preacher; but somehow her defense of 
 him pleased me. Was it because he was now 
 an under dog in the fight? 
 
 The next day I went back into the steamy 
 tobacco field, hating the world and especially 
 hating Nan; for when I chanced to go near 
 her, she made grimaces as if the air were 
 charged with unpleasant odors, which indeed 
 may have been true, for I was gummed with 
 tobacco sap from head to foot. A "white-
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 197 
 
 trash" man and two of his boys were employed 
 to help me; but they were so slow that the 
 constant poking up entailed almost double 
 work on my part. 
 
 Along about noon on the third day of their 
 engagement one of the boys called me a liar; 
 but his manner was not playful when he did it, 
 and I boxed him. He was not hurt, but the 
 old man took me gravely to task and gave 
 several texts, freely wrenched from the book, 
 to show that I was doomed to the fire. How 
 ever, as he was of a gentle nature, he said that 
 he would pray for my forgiveness and deliv 
 ery, and he went away into the shade to pray. 
 He was gone so long that I thought it well to 
 look for him, and I did, finding him asleep 
 under a tree. I stirred him up and inquired if 
 he thought that his prayer was answered, 
 whereupon he cried out that I was a blas 
 phemer thus to make light of a petition 
 directed above, and he set off to the house to 
 lodge a complaint with the professor. For 
 the "white trash" the negroes had a contempt. 
 Could any one blame them? 
 
 The professor drove the old man and the 
 boys out of the field and employed two
 
 198 " TURK " 
 
 ruffians that had come down the river on a 
 raft. But we were nearly done when one of 
 them almost brained the other with a pole, and 
 the blood that was shed did not cripple us 
 much. At last the miserable work was done, 
 and I ran to the creek to wash myself back 
 into the appearance and the feeling of a 
 human being. 
 
 The preacher's chattels were hauled off in 
 a cart, without even so much as a negro's fife 
 to turn it into a band-wagon. The Ohio 
 River, that watery boundary line between 
 principles and customs, was not a great dis 
 tance north of us, and across the stream the 
 minister's goods were ferried, we heard; 
 indeed, the professor entered into correspond 
 ence with him, and not long afterward I heard 
 him say to his wife that he was pleased at the 
 growing earnestness and practical good sense 
 of our former pastor. I dare say the most of 
 us have observed that when a schoolman com 
 mends any one for practicality, he must be 
 practical indeed. But if ever there were a 
 man lacking in this quality, it was my master. 
 
 From North to South and back again 
 literary sharp-shooters popped away at one
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 199 
 
 another. Old mammy nurses, seeking to 
 quiet rebellious children, threatened them 
 with runaway negroes hidden in the thicket. 
 Embryo statesmen in colleges and at Old 
 Blood howled over the outrages put upon the 
 Constitution. And those of us who stood upon 
 the hilltop, watching the gathering of the 
 clouds, knew how slowly a great storm can 
 come. 
 
 Late one afternoon there halted at our 
 house two white men having in charge three 
 negro slaves that had run away from a trader 
 over at Scoville. The trader with a large 
 band of slaves was on his way South, industry 
 in this line having been stimulated by recent 
 decisions in Indiana and Illinois, denying to 
 masters who invaded certain territory in quest 
 of "runaway property" the right to seize upon 
 the same. The two white men were most 
 brutal-looking fellows, and we were taught to 
 regard all traders in human commodity as 
 brutes. There were masters in Kentucky 
 who never bought or sold a negro, and these 
 constituted the real aristocracy of the com 
 monwealth. 
 
 In a manner that Jid not smack pleasantly
 
 200 " TURK " 
 
 of politeness, one of the men, who introduced 
 himself as Mr. Croft, requested food and lodg 
 ing for the night. "These bucks ran away 
 from the Colonel night before last; and, as 
 the main drove is to come along not far from 
 here, I 'lowed we'd rest here and to-morrow 
 mornin' cut across the county and head 'em 
 off. My partner, here, is Mr. Vance." 
 
 It was evident that they had gathered no 
 hint as to the abolition principles of the pro 
 fessor; and I expected him to rage, in a 
 smothered way at least, but was surprised to 
 see him smile upon the ruffians and their 
 three-linked chain of black flesh. 
 
 Beneath our house was a cellar walled with 
 stone and lighted by only one small window 
 not more than a foot square. With alacrity 
 he flung up the cellar door, this believer in the 
 brotherhood of man, and told Mr. Croft that 
 he might with safety therein immure his 
 rebellious charge. Nor did Mrs. Emory pro 
 test when thus her house was to be made a 
 prison. Nan began to whimper, seeing the 
 blood where the handcuffs had chafed the 
 poor wretches; but the professor scolded her, 
 and she shut the outward gates of her sym-
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 201 
 
 pathy. Of course I had been reared in the 
 belief that the negro was incapable of intense 
 suffering; wise men had written to prove that 
 he was an animal and had no soul; and some 
 of them, and indeed some white men, I am 
 still persuaded, have none. But the sight of 
 those mute monsters, whose ragged raiment 
 had been torn more ragged by hounds, smote 
 me with a deep pity. And it was no wonder, 
 I mused, that the professor could laugh at the 
 desperate plight of the poor preacher, when 
 he had within his breast so changeable a cur 
 rent of feeling. 
 
 To Mr. Croft and his co-ruffian, Vance, a 
 savory supper was spread, and when one of 
 them remarked that possibly the "bucks" 
 might be in need of something, the professor 
 spoke up: "We'll throw them down some 
 scraps after a while. And now, gentlemen, I 
 desire you to make yourselves perfectly at 
 home in my house. You have ridden hard 
 and I know that you must be tired; so, when 
 you are ready to lie down for the night, I'll 
 show you to your room. Turk, look into the 
 closet under the hall stairway and bring that 
 jug. Gentlemen, I have some old Robinson
 
 202 "TURK" 
 
 County liquor that was won on the election of 
 James K. Polk. You are welcome to it." 
 
 I brought the jug and put it before them, 
 trembling in every joint, and then ran 
 out bare-headed and stood where th' . cool air 
 might blow upon me. From the dining-room 
 there came the clinking of glasses, and I went 
 further away, pulled down a vine dripping 
 with dew, and pressed it against my face. 
 Dusk had blurred the long-lingering light of 
 the west, and a screech owl was crying, when 
 another sound came what was it? One of 
 the poor devils in the cellar was singing a 
 strange song, a melancholy chant brought 
 from the jungles of Africa. 
 
 The professor called me and commanded 
 me to go early to bed, as he desired me to rise 
 before day and take a turn of corn to the mill. 
 I obeyed, going hot in my old thirst to my 
 garret; and after the clock had pounded off 
 the hour of eleven, I heard our guests talking 
 in their room heard them sputter at a song 
 and clink their glasses. They had taken the 
 jug with them, and through the thick wall its 
 essence permeated, and I pressed the musty 
 pillow against my dilating nostrils. After a
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 203 
 
 long time all sounds from below died out, and 
 the upper part of the house was still, save for 
 the snoring of the guests. Suddenly a light 
 flashed, the mottled light of a tin lantern, and 
 stealing to the window and looking down I 
 saw some one at the cellar door. Dressing 
 hastily, I crept down the stairs and went round 
 to the window whence I could view the cellar. 
 Peeping through, I saw the professor with a 
 lantern. His wife stood on the steps with a 
 large package in her hand. The negroes had 
 scrambled to their feet and were gazing in 
 astonishment. The professor held up a finger. 
 The black giants nodded, for they saw some 
 thing which I did not see for a moment after 
 ward a file. Now it was all clear the appar 
 ent welcome of the slave hunters and the 
 jug. 
 
 "This is slow work," murmured the profes 
 sor as he proceeded to work with his file. 
 "Oh, by the way, Louise the saw." Mrs. 
 Emory went hastily up the steps and soon 
 returned with a saw not much larger than a 
 case knife, and with this the professor's work 
 was rapid, so that soon one of the chains fell 
 upon the floor. The poor prisoner stretched
 
 204 " TURK " 
 
 his arms, and then sinking upon the ground 
 clasped the knees of his liberator. 
 
 "Don't," commanded the professor. "We 
 haven't much time." Then he turned his 
 attention to another negro, who stood waiting 
 in the shadow. "It is not far to the Ohio 
 River," said the professor, sawing as fast as 
 he could. "In that bundle, which my wife will 
 give you, there is food enough to last you 
 several days and a note to the Rev. Mr. 
 Hoover. You will find him at number 
 seventy-five, Marsh Street, Cincinnati. Can 
 you remember that?" 
 
 One of the negroes said that he could man 
 age to read a little, and the professor con 
 gratulated him upon his knowledge. Another 
 chain fell to the ground. "Knowing from 
 what vicinity you have come," said the pro 
 fessor, attacking the last chain, "Mr. Hoover 
 will take especial pains to see that you get 
 into Canada." The negro nodded. 
 
 I wondered how we were to make it right 
 with the "drovers," or even to offer any sort 
 of explanation. If we should fight them and 
 conquer, there would still remain a palliation 
 due to society and the law. Something
 
 "IT'S NOT FAR TO THE OHIO RIVER*'
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 205 
 
 touched me. I looked up, and there stood 
 Nan. Without speaking we peeped into the 
 cellar, her cheek against mine, and a glory 
 came over me as I felt the warm velvet of her 
 skin. I wished that the work might go on 
 forever; and yet I vowed within myself at 
 this moment of trembling ecstasy that I hated 
 her, because she had been born my enemy. 
 She moved back; the current was broken, and 
 I was a clod again. 
 
 "How are they going to fix it with the men 
 upstairs?" I whispered. 
 
 "They are going to kill them." 
 
 I must have cut an odd caper, for she 
 laughed in my face. "No," she added, "they 
 are going to put powder under one corner of 
 the house and blow out a hole. I heard them 
 talking about it. And when the men hear the 
 noise, they'll come tumbling down; but by 
 that time the negroes will be nearly to the 
 Ohio River. It will be a slow match, and 
 father and mother will be asleep when it goes 
 off. Hush." 
 
 . The last chain fell. There was a short 
 whispered talk in the cellar, and Mrs. Emory 
 gave the bundle to one of the negroes. Then
 
 206 " TURK " 
 
 the prisoners, once more blessing their deliv 
 erers, ran out into the yard and were gone. 
 
 "Go to bed," Nan whispered, scampering 
 away; and without waiting to view the laying 
 of the mine, I obeyed her. Long I lay there, 
 waiting; and then it came over me that there 
 was to be no explosion, that she had tricked 
 me. And in this belief I dozed off to sleep, 
 but it seemed that with the coming of the 
 instant afterward, I was groping about near 
 the window. For a moment it appeared to 
 my half-aroused senses that the floor was 
 steep and uneven, like a rugged hill, and that 
 I was trying to climb to the summit; but the 
 next moment, and amid smoke that came in 
 rolling puffs from below, all was realized, and 
 I understood that I had been almost thrown 
 out of bed by an explosion. The professor's 
 voice reached me in a loud roar, and then 
 came the screaming of his wife. In the room 
 whence had come stealing the essence of 
 liquor, a wild confusion arose. I heard the 
 sharp smash of glasses and the jug bounce 
 with a loud bump upon the floor, and then 
 down the stairway went tumbling Mr. Croft 
 and his friend, Mr. Vance.
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 207 
 
 I dressed and ran down as soon as possible, 
 and there was the professor, half dressed, 
 walking up and down, swearing that his house 
 was ruined. His wife swooned with terror, 
 and artful Nan was crying with the expres 
 sion of a cat in her face. The shrewdness of 
 Croft made all things plain. About the 
 negroes was concealed abolition powder and a 
 file. Hastily seized and driven hurriedly, 
 they had not been properly searched. It was 
 not the first time that outrages had been thus 
 perpetrated. Never mind, the damages to the , 
 house should be paid by the Colonel, and the 
 hounds would soon bring back the would-be 
 murderers. 
 
 Pursuit was useiess in the dark, and before 
 daylight the "drovers" departed for Scoville, 
 whence they were to return with dogs. They 
 were pressed to remain to breakfast, but they 
 declined, afraid, it was clear from their uneasy 
 actions, that their employer would deem them 
 remiss in duty; but they ran back upstairs to 
 take one more pull at the jug. The thought 
 that it might have been broken and that its 
 thrilling contents were dripping through the 
 cracks in the floor seized upon me, and tempt-
 
 208 " TURK " 
 
 ing the devil I stood in the room below; but 
 the men came down with the jug, and the pro 
 fessor kindly bade them take it with them. 
 They made a weak demur, but went away 
 with it; and the learned man, my master, took 
 hold of a tree in the yard and laughed, and 
 the coming of broad day revealed the joy- 
 tears in his eyes. 
 
 "It was a narrow escape for us all, Turk," 
 he said; "and I am so thankful that no one 
 was hurt. But what surprises me is, how 
 those negroes could have concealed so much 
 powder about them." 
 
 "They must have worn it sprinkled in their 
 wool," I replied, and the learned man appeared 
 to be thoughtful. 
 
 Well, now, sir," he said, "I shouldn't be 
 surprised if that were a fact. You have hit 
 upon a bright idea, and I shall commend it to 
 the sheriff." And with that he was again 
 seized with laughter and went behind the 
 house. When he returned to comfort his 
 wife, who declared that she didn't know how 
 soon there was to be another blow-up, I told 
 him I thought that we had better repair the 
 damage done the cellar. He shook his head
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT 209 
 
 gravely and remarked that he could ill afford 
 such a luxury as an explosion, and that per 
 haps the county might levy a special tax to 
 re re and here again he was seized, but he 
 turned it off adroitly into a cough and so 
 escaped the necessity of going behind the 
 house. 
 
 Shortly after the sun was well up, our two 
 guests, accompanied by several men and a 
 number of dogs, poured into the yard 
 Among them was a deputy sheriff, and with 
 grave caution he went down into the cellar to 
 examine the scene of the outrage. Minute 
 examination revealed saw filings on the 
 earthen floor, and some of these the officer 
 scraped up and put away in a corner of his 
 pocketbook. Through the hole made by the 
 explosion the negroes had evidently escaped; 
 for here were tracks in the soft earth. The 
 door was still fastened with a padlock when 
 Croft and Vance had reached the ground. 
 
 The hounds when put upon the scent cried 
 out with a great "ounk, ounk," and ran off 
 toward the river. The "mount" followed, and 
 for a long time we heard the chase, until at 
 last it died away.
 
 210 " TURK " 
 
 At this moment the professor and I were 
 standing at the back fence. He turned to me, 
 stripping an althaea bush at the time, I remem 
 ber, and said, "Turk, an old woman that lives 
 beyond the sedge field to your right as you 
 pass on toward Goggins, knows how to make 
 clothes for chaps about your size, and I'd 
 advise you to go over at once and let her eye 
 you." 
 
 "But I have no cloth, sir." 
 
 "Is that so? Why, I understood her to say 
 that a friend of yours had left some cloth 
 there for you a sort of brown and gray mixed 
 jeans, I believe. Go on. You are a jewel, 
 Turk. You never see anything."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 
 
 N THE neighborhood there was 
 much talk about our explosion. 
 The damage was exaggerated; and 
 a newspaper published in a distant 
 county gave an account of the wrecking of 
 our house by the abolitionists, the serious 
 wounding of a child, and the crippling of the 
 professor for life; but we did not escape the 
 sneers of some of our nearer neighbors. One 
 afternoon I was returning from a visit to the 
 old woman who was making my clothes and 
 who was committing me to memory by 
 degrees, when along the road I fell in with 
 Riddleberry Buck. He was walking and car 
 ried, wrapped in a tow sack, several plow- 
 points which he was taking to the blacksmith 
 to have sharpened. 
 
 "The blow-up didn't hurt you none, I see," 
 he remarked, as I came out of a path into the 
 road. 
 
 "No, I can manage to walk."
 
 212 " TURK " 
 
 "Any of the family hurt?" 
 
 "Scared a good deal, but not hurt." 
 
 "Ah, hah." He walked along, chewing his 
 tobacco and humming a tune, a sort of timber 
 wolfs lullaby. "In bed at the time, eh? You?" 
 
 "Yes, and asleep." 
 
 "Sleep. Then you didn't know it was goin' 
 to take place, eh?" 
 
 "Did you know that thing was coming 
 down?" I asked, pointing to a tree newly felled 
 by a wood-chopper. 
 
 "Well, I mout have know'd it, by puttin' this 
 and that together, the blows of the ax and so 
 on. Can't say that I know'd it was goin' to 
 fall, but it ain't no surprise seein' of it down. 
 Was it any surprise to you when you seed the 
 place whar the powder went off? Hah?" 
 
 "Yes, it was a great surprise," I answered, 
 for long ago I had learned to lie like a recep 
 tion committee. 
 
 "And you don't believe the professor man 
 had anything to do with it, eh? Speak out 
 straight. You know I give you the right sort 
 of talk the day I wouldn't tell him nothin'. 
 Yo' folks are all Southern, an' you ain't no 
 nigger lover. Out with it."
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 213 
 
 "No more to do with it than you had." 
 
 "Hah, is that so?" From one shoulder to 
 the other he shifted his sack of plow-points. 
 "I was talkin' to Horner, the stillhouse man, 
 an' he says thar ought to be an investigation. 
 Lou Biddle says the same thing." 
 
 "Wh's Lou Biddle?" 
 
 "Town marshal at Scoville." 
 
 "Well, let him stick to his town. Is he any 
 kin to the Biddies that " 
 
 "That helped the Nesbitts fight yo' folks a 
 long time ago? Yes, belongs to the same 
 tribe and full of the devil." 
 
 "So am I when it comes to that." 
 
 "Oh, you are a spunky little brat, ain't you? 
 Say, ricolleck the two fellers that sorter made 
 you and me kin to each other fellers that 
 whipped us? I hearn of them. Feller from 
 Louisville told me he seen 'em helpin' to flat- 
 boat salt down to New Orleans. Have you 
 quit thinkin' about 'em?" 
 
 "I have dreamed about them a thousand 
 times, and always a man, that I took to be my 
 father, stood there looking at me with sorrow 
 in his eyes." 
 
 "You don't say! Well, I turn off here."
 
 214 "TURK" 
 
 Farther along I was about to leave the road 
 to cross the fields, when who but old Horner 
 should come in sight, on the brow of a steep 
 hill only a few yards away? He was driving 
 in a little old gig that rattled and constantly 
 threatened to fall to pieces. About his neck 
 he wore a red handkerchief, and for a time it 
 looked as if his throat had been cut from ear 
 to ear. As he came along, I was sitting on 
 the fence, and he would have passed on with 
 out noticing me, but his horse shied and rat 
 tled the gig in every joint. 
 
 "Hello, you there, sir! What are you doin' 
 up there makin' a scarecrow of yourself?" 
 
 "Is your horse afraid of scarecrows? Won 
 der he lets you harness him." 
 
 "Hay? No impudence, now. Oh, it's you, 
 is it? You've grow'd so much I hardly know'd 
 you must have grow'd the sixteenth of an 
 inch since I saw you last. I was thinkin' 
 about you the other day 'lowed that as you 
 was such a good hand to rob a stillhouse, you 
 might be a good hand to work in one. Think 
 you'd like that sort of a job?" 
 
 "I'd be afraid, sir." 
 
 "Afraid of what?"
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 215 
 
 "The whisky, sir. I never drank any but 
 once, but it has been a fight ever since then." 
 
 "Then you are the man to work right with 
 it. They tell me the best man to do danger 
 ous work is the feller that's always afeerd." 
 
 "I don't want to do that sort of work. I 
 think it would cost me my my respectability." 
 
 "Why, damn your freckled hide, you set up 
 there and talk about respectability! Who are 
 you to talk that way?" 
 
 "The grandson of a drunkard." 
 
 "Hay? Sharp as a tack, ain't you? Good 
 boy, stick to it. And if you grow a little more 
 and manage to wash some of them yaller 
 specks off'n your face, you may make a 'man 
 of yourself. Oh, by the way, you was at 
 Emory's house when the explosion took place, 
 wasn't you?" 
 
 I told him, and he eyed me, came closer 
 over to my side of the road and, like an old 
 turtle, stretched his neck out further from his 
 crimson swipe of handkerchief. "Tell me 
 about it." I told him in my own manner, that 
 is to say, covering the truth, and with the lash 
 of his whip he slowly tapped at the ears of his 
 old horse.
 
 216 " TURK " 
 
 "Yes," he drawled, "it was a good thing to 
 have had a witness. But you know men don't 
 part with some thirty-five hundred dollars' 
 worth of nigger flesh so easy as to let all 
 investigation go. And then society has to 
 send round its bill. Do you know what 
 society is?" 
 
 "A lot of folks together a-talking and not 
 saying much," I answered, and he laughed like 
 a dog gagging. "Wall, in one sense that is 
 about it; but in the sense I use it, the meaning 
 takes in every self-respectin' man in the com 
 munity. All these folks together form what 
 is called society, and they may have a bill to 
 send over in the direction of the ex-school 
 teacher's house. You recollect some of the 
 boys scared the abolition preacher mighty 
 nigh to death. But they only scared him. 
 The next time the boys go out they may do 
 somethin' a leetle more substantial." 
 
 "You mean that they may come after the 
 professor and whip him. Is that it?" 
 
 "I have scattered the seeds; and if you want 
 to cover them with dirt and water them, all 
 right." 
 
 Over in an adjoining field, a young woman
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 217 
 
 came along, and with a hoe was cutting the 
 sassafras sprouts in the corners of the fence. 
 Old Homer looked at her, his eye kindling 
 with interest as he observed the vigor of her 
 stroke. "A furren girl, to work out that way, 
 I take it," he said as she passed beyond hear 
 ing. "Ah, she may be furren and all that, but 
 I tell you she'd make some industrious man a 
 mighty good wife." He turned about to look 
 at her. "But it seems to me that the hoe she 
 has is a leetle too heavy to get the best results 
 out of her. Her father or husband, if she's 
 got one, ought to be more careful with her 
 and furnish her with a lighter one." 
 
 "Do you believe they are coming after the 
 professor?" I bluntly asked as he began to 
 tighten his lines. 
 
 "Why, I haven't said anything of the sort. 
 I reckon you'd like to know the exact time so 
 you could be there." 
 
 "Yes, sir; and I want to say they won't have 
 as easy a time as they had when they made 
 the preacher tote the window sash." He 
 looked at me, wrinkling his face, sneezed like 
 an old goat, and drove on. 
 
 In one corner of our yard there was a shed
 
 218 "TURK" 
 
 in which the professor sometimes pretended 
 to do carpenter work. And he was thus 
 engaged when I reached home, near the set 
 ting of the slowly-cooling sun. How strong, 
 at this moment, the recollection of him as he 
 then appeared comes back to me! As I 
 entered he was shoving a plane along the 
 smooth surface of a piece of yellow poplar. 
 He looked up, with a shaving in his mouth, 
 and nodding went on with his work, but when 
 I began to tell of the talk with old Horner, he 
 suddenly eiected the shaving from his mouth, 
 and it hung like a ribbon on his beard. 
 
 "Turk," he said, "don't you believe that it 
 was a genuine explosion?" 
 
 I told him that I did; and it was, for none 
 but a genuine explosion could have thrown 
 me out of bed at that hour in the morning. 
 "Ah!" said he, looking upon me and com 
 mending my unswerving spirit of truth. "And 
 you may use the derringers, and I'll sweep 
 things with the shotgun." 
 
 "And are the derringers to be loaded, sir?" 
 I asked, not in innocence but with a whim 
 that tickled me to the end of the toes; but he 
 did not catch my humor.
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 219 
 
 "Loaded! Loaded, sir, to the very muzzles." 
 
 He smiled over the prospect of danger. 
 They might call him lazy; but not with cause 
 could any one charge him with cowardice. 
 And that reminds me that some of the laziest 
 men I ever saw were brave. Laziness is often 
 but a lack of interest in work. Shift the voca 
 tion, and all sloth disappears. Al Hocker- 
 smith, who lived near Old Blood, but who 
 possessed not the grace of having learned to 
 read at the famous school, just naturally 
 hated to work in the hemp field; but he was 
 keen in looking for a fight; and just as they 
 were putting a halter around his neck, he 
 looked up and said, "Here's this damned hemp 
 again." 
 
 Through my mind this bit of foolishness 
 floated and dipped like dandelion fuzz in the 
 still air, while the professor stood there smil 
 ing as if I had brought him the most pleasing 
 news. In innocence rather than in humor, I 
 asked him if he had ever killed a man; and 
 brushing from his whiskers the poplar ribbon, 
 he gravely remarked, as if talking to himself, 
 "I ought to have killed him, but I didn't." 
 
 "What was his name, sir?"
 
 220 " TURK " 
 
 "Whose name?" he demanded almost 
 fiercely, gripping my arm. 
 
 "The man you ought to have killed, sir." 
 
 "Let him be nameless. But I ought to have 
 killed him, the traitor. He stole something 
 from me and made my life as slow as a 
 snail's." 
 
 "Steal a horse from you?" 
 
 "Horse! The devil! Can't you people 
 think about anything but horses? Look at 
 me, an old man. He stole a woman." 
 
 "A negro woman that belonged to you?" 
 
 "Turk, you are not as complete a fool as 
 you look, and not very often as you act. You 
 have some idea, but as yet you cannot know. 
 But some day your soul may take fire, and the 
 flame may enshroud a woman. Do you know 
 what I mean?" 
 
 Of his history I knew more than he was 
 aware. My master at Old Blood had talked 
 about him. "Yes, sir," I answered, "I know, 
 and some day I may understand better than I 
 do now. I believe that my heart is to be 
 broken by a woman." 
 
 The old man placed his hands on my shoul 
 ders and looked into my eyes. Was it true, as
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 221 
 
 I had heard hinted, that he was not always 
 sound in his head? I wondered why he had 
 ever married, if the woman whom he loved 
 had been stolen away; and with a schoolmas 
 ter's cleverness in contemplating younger and 
 inferior minds, he read my thoughts. 
 
 "I did love her, and I do now. She is noble 
 and gentle, like my daughter Amy. But the 
 other one was like a witch and rode me with 
 her hands in my hair. But if you ever say 
 anything about it, I will crack your head." 
 
 I stepped back from him, with the scent of 
 whisky tingling in my nostrils, and I knew that 
 he had been drinking. "But not much," he 
 said, catching the picture in my countenance. 
 "Only one dram. Once in a long while rebel 
 lious thought drives me to it, but never to 
 excess. Old Dr. Johnson thought that smok 
 ing prevented insanity." 
 
 "Did he practice in this neighborhood, sir?" 
 I inquired. 
 
 "No, he was a doctor of ideas rather than of 
 medicine, and as such would have selected any 
 other community. I would not say it if I 
 didn't feel assured that in every way you can 
 control yourself; but now and then whisky
 
 222 " TURK " 
 
 prevents insanity. A great philosopher 
 thought that a man should go so far as to get 
 drunk once a month and " 
 
 "You mustn't tell me that!" I cried. "When 
 you do, I can feel a knife in my hand and see 
 a hangman's rope trailing beside me. Don't 
 tell me that. Tell me that the great man was 
 a liar." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter with you? A liar, 
 of course he was. There, supper's ready. 
 Go on. I'll be with you soon." 
 
 When he followed, which he did shortly 
 afterward, his eyes were red, but no other 
 sign that he had been drinking was visible; 
 he sat down and went through with the meal 
 as if it had been a grave ceremony imposed 
 upon him. 
 
 That night we began our watch for the ma 
 rauders, and with the two pistols clapped to my 
 sides and bound about with a strip of black 
 cloth for a belt, I felt that at last the laggard 
 world had bestowed upon me one of its bless 
 ings. Ah, and when the professor went to 
 bed, leaving to me the conduct of the cam 
 paign! The fence inclosing the yard was my 
 beat, and around and around I walked,
 
 MAKING THE ROUNDS 223 
 
 heavy of foot; and when Nan came out and 
 stood, with the rising moon in her face, I 
 thought of the woman whom the professor 
 had lost; for surely Nan was a witch when all 
 the daylight was gone; and I should not have 
 wondered had she seized me by the hair and, 
 like a witch, spurred me over the tree tops 
 and up amid the chilling mists. But she was 
 so beautiful, standing there, and I was her 
 sole protector. 
 
 "You'd better go into the house," I said. 
 "It is da'ngerous here." 
 
 Her laugh was as cool as the waterfall that 
 poured upon me after the night's hot revel on 
 the hill. "Dangerous! I'm not afraid of 
 crickets." 
 
 "Crickets!" I repeated with contempt. 
 "Men with guns." 
 
 "Well, when they come, I'll call father." 
 
 "If you are a friend of mine," I began in 
 warm resentment; but she cooled me with her 
 laugh. 
 
 "A friend of yours! Who said I was?" 
 
 "I never said so, but I always hoped you 
 were." And long afterward I wondered if 
 from some older mind she caught up her
 
 224 "TURK" 
 
 reply: "You hope like some people that pro 
 fess to be Christians without cause." 
 
 Here duty called upon me, and slowly I 
 paced my round. When I returned, she was 
 still standing with her face to the moon. 
 "You like to look at the moon, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes. They don't call it 7^'." 
 
 This started me on another round, and 
 again I returned and found her not looking at 
 the moon, but by its beams trying to read 
 something. "I have some news from your 
 sweetheart," she said, folding a piece of paper 
 and putting it into the pocket of her apron. 
 
 "These are my sweethearts," I replied, slap 
 ping the derringers and strutting off a few 
 paces from her. "And they laugh loud when 
 they are tickled." 
 
 "If you don't want to hear from Amy, I 
 won't tell you some news about her." 
 
 "From Amy! Oh, yes, tell me about her. 
 But is she my sweetheart?" 
 
 "You thought so. But you wouldn't think 
 so if you knew what was in this letter that I 
 got from her to-day. You can't keep a secret, 
 can you?" 
 
 "Ask your father. But wait a moment till I
 
 MAKING THE BOUNDS 225 
 
 go the rounds again." She waited till, slowly 
 pacing, I came back to her. "What does she 
 say?" 
 
 "She is in love. And that's the reason 
 everything looked so bright to her when she 
 wrote the last time." 
 
 "In love?" It was not quite time for 
 another round, and I waited for her to tell me 
 more. 
 
 "In love with a professor in the college. 
 She says he is her English teacher, and he 
 must have taught her grammar first person, 
 I love; second person, you love and both of 
 us know it will make father as mad as a hor 
 net. Do you know why he doesn't like pro 
 fessors?" 
 
 "No. I thought he did." 
 
 "Turk, how can you expect me to like you 
 when you tell me such fibs all the time? I 
 heard him say something to you this evening, 
 when you were in the carpenter shop. What 
 was it?" 
 
 "He said that some rats have longer tails 
 than others." 
 
 "Is that the reason he took hold of your 
 shoulders and shook you? Is that what made
 
 225 "TURK" 
 
 him drink out of a jug and groan and walk up 
 and down with his hands behind him? Are 
 all men liars, and do they all drink out of 
 jugs?" 
 
 "I think the most of them drink out of jugs, 
 and I know that they must all be liars," I 
 replied out of the depths of my wisdom, which 
 was my experience. 
 
 "But Nick Bowles don't get drunk," she 
 said, and she moved about so as to catch the 
 moonlight upon my face. 
 
 "No," I replied; and she laughed. "Oh, 
 you know he does, but you won't tell on him. 
 And they haven't heard of him since the 
 preacher went away, have they?" 
 
 "I haven't." 
 
 "But I have. A man stopped here to-day 
 and said he was living in Scoville. The man 
 said Lou Biddle, the town marshal, made him 
 tell all he knew about father and the preacher. 
 Is that cattle coming down the road?"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 
 
 HE distinct trampling of horses 
 smote upon my ear. The sounds 
 came from far down the old mili 
 tary road that ran past our house. 
 On the road there were, especially in the fall 
 of the year, many travelers on horseback, 
 merchants riding far to buy goods; but I pre 
 tended alarm and told her to go into the 
 house. She refused. Pretty soon there came 
 a whoop, not from a merchant, unless he were 
 drunk, but from a night-rider bent, upon 
 deviltry or reckless pleasure. I seized her 
 arms, and in a delight danced her into the 
 shadow of the fence, and there we waited. 
 Spirit of blood-loving sire, you must have 
 hovered over me then; for in those moments 
 of waiting, with that wild beauty there with 
 me in the dark, I was happier than the owner 
 of a fireside sitting in honored contentment. 
 
 About her I put my arm, and for a few blessed 
 
 227
 
 228 " TURK " 
 
 seconds she stood still with her face against 
 my breast. But the sounds of hoofs blast 
 them! seemed to grow fainter, and she moved 
 back from me in such a way that I felt the 
 futility of following her, 
 
 "Don't," she said. Then came another 
 whoop, sweetly nearer, and she turned as if 
 she would run into the house; but I caught 
 her. Not even her father should share with 
 me the honor and the joy of protecting her. 
 She made no effort to break away from me, 
 but looked up and her eyes were ablaze in 
 
 one single ray of light looked at me and 
 
 laughed. And now there was hardly room 
 for mistake. We heard the low voices of 
 several men. The riders had dismounted and 
 were tying their horses. We waited. She 
 asked me for one of the pistols, and now it 
 was my time to laugh. 
 
 "But I will stay with you," she said. 
 
 "I wish they would stand out there forever 
 and keep us here," I said, and she did not 
 laugh at that. Here they came down the 
 road, silent till one of them struck the gate 
 with something that made a noise like a 
 bunch of switches.
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 229 
 
 "Go in," commanded a low voice. "We'll 
 knock at the door, and when he comes out, 
 grab him." 
 
 That was enough. Out I leaped and fired 
 both pistols, one quickly following the other. 
 A wild yell arose, there was a scampering for 
 the road, and by the time they were clear of 
 the gate, out came the professor. He fired 
 both barrels of his gun, but too low, I could 
 see. And now, as we had spent our imme 
 diate force, we were put to the need of 
 recharging, a thing which in those days was 
 not quickly to be done. Leading Nan by the 
 hand, I ran into the house, and the professor 
 scolded her as he fumblingly poured powder 
 from a flask. Mrs. Emory's face was as white 
 as the night-cap she wore; but she said noth 
 ing, neither did she get in our way as we were 
 loading the gun and pistols, which at that time 
 I thought was a marvelous piece of judgment, 
 though since then I have seen delicate women 
 wade in blood and with fingers that did not 
 tremble clean their gory shoes. By the time 
 we were again ready, I had given the profes 
 sor an account of the attack, and he put his 
 hand on my head and called me a brave boy,
 
 230 "TURK" 
 
 which I did not relish over-much, since I now 
 regarded myself as a man. 
 
 "We must have peppered some of them," he 
 said; and not till I suggested going out with 
 a lantern was it that his wife spoke a word. 
 
 "Wait awhile," she said. And then she 
 smiled. "Ah, they weren't chasing a defense 
 less preacher that time. Turk, we are proud 
 of you." 
 
 I grew about an inch in two minutes and 
 lighted the lantern. "It is necessary to look 
 over the field, ma'm," said I, remembering the 
 talk of some old Mexican War veterans. And 
 I insisted upon going alone, but the professor 
 went with me. Carrying the lantern low, I 
 searched the ground and was disappointed 
 not to find a sheaf of my own reaping. "The 
 ones with the big bullet holes are mine," I 
 said to the professor as slowly we walked 
 down the road. 
 
 "You may have all you find," he replied, 
 and by his tone I fancied that he was pleased 
 at the bloodless result of the campaign. As 
 we were returning to the house, there came a 
 lusty hello, and with weapons ready we went 
 back to the gate, to find old Champ Jones
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 231 
 
 standing there with a rifle as long as a hoop- 
 pole. 
 
 "I was coming over here when I heard you 
 open up," said he. "Was down on the creek 
 looking after my traps in the early shine of 
 the moon, and along came one of the Potter 
 tribe, and he said that from what he heard 
 over in town some of the boys intended to pay 
 you a visit to-night." 
 
 The professor gave an account of the siege, 
 and old Champ shook me by the hand. "Oh, 
 you can depend on him," he said. "There 
 used to be quite a generation of them around 
 here, and nobody ever saw their heels except 
 when they were running for fun." 
 
 There was no danger of another attack, but 
 we "played like" there was, and until daylight 
 we sat with our guns and pistols, to me a 
 heaven excelled in happiness only by those 
 brief moments when I had stood with my arm 
 about Nan. I would not accept all the honors 
 of bravery, but insisted upon sharing them 
 with her, and old Champ shook me again and 
 said that I not only would fight, but that, like 
 all true men, I was gallant, which, in my 
 ignorance, I took to mean being fond of the
 
 232 "TURK" 
 
 "gals." How fast that night sped away, there 
 by the fire, cooking our "rations!" And not 
 until the sun came up did Nan show her old 
 indifference toward me. Then she said that I 
 didn't know how to shoot; and at that I hung 
 my head, for I felt that, being so near, I ought 
 to have winged one at least. After breakfast 
 old Champ said that he would go with the 
 professor over to Scoville, and I whined that 
 I ought to go, too; but they appeased me by 
 declaring that I must remain at home to pro 
 tect the women and children. 
 
 With derringers in my black cloth belt, I 
 walked up and down the road. News of the 
 attempted whipping had begun to spread, and 
 in dignity I stood stiff to answer questions 
 asked by a neighbor. One man charged me 
 with defending a black abolitionist; and with 
 pistol at full cock, I ordered him to move on, 
 which he did with a pace that was not slow. 
 Nan came out to tell me that dinner was 
 ready. On her lip was a snarl, like a bit of 
 red ribbon twisted. Ah. whither had flown 
 her moon-lighted loveliness? The day had 
 grown gray with the premature age of mist, 
 the air was damp, and about the girl's fore-
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 233 
 
 head hung many an impudent kink of 
 hair. 
 
 "How can you be so mean?" I asked. And 
 she replied, "Mean! I haven't said a word." 
 
 "But your looks curse me." 
 
 "What do they say?" 
 
 "Call me a damned fool." 
 
 "Ain't you?" 
 
 At that moment I wished that the marau 
 ders might gallop up and fire a volley in our 
 faces. And if I were wounded nigh unto 
 death and she my nurse to sit beside me in 
 the dark night, the soft wind stirring the 
 candle flame, the dreaded moment coming on 
 with its summons from eternity to muse upon 
 it were a happiness, surely a reproach to her 
 for cruelty, and therefore sweet to me. 
 
 At the head of the table I proudly took my 
 seat, growing every second; and when my 
 plate was helped first, I fain would put my 
 hand upon my head to keep from shooting 
 upward like Jack's bean stalk. With no sign 
 of that patronage which the poor boy con 
 stantly looks for in the dread of being hum 
 bled, Mrs. Emory was kind and gracefully 
 attentive to me. She was proud, she said,
 
 234 " TURK " 
 
 that her home was the home of a hero; and I 
 was afraid to look at Nan, for I heard a cool 
 rippling that sounded like her laughter in 
 derision. 
 
 After dinner I resumed the walking of my 
 beat and kept at it until the professor 
 returned. He stood waiting while I took off 
 his saddle at the yard gate, and when I asked 
 what had become of old Champ, he replied, 
 "I don't understand him. We were coming 
 along, he walking and keeping up with me. 
 I noticed from time to time that his gait was 
 wonderfully easy for an old man, and that his 
 eye, when he looked up at me, was bright. 
 He was telling me of his contentment, living 
 in his shaded cabin all alone, when suddenly 
 his gait changed to a sort of lockstep, and, 
 sniffing the air, he turned off into the bushes 
 and without a word left me. I don't under 
 stand him." 
 
 I did, but I said nothing. The professor 
 wanted no dinner, having, while in town, 
 feasted on the countryman's delight, sardines 
 and crackers; and sitting in his rocking chair 
 with his pipe, he told us of his visit to the 
 authorities. First, he found it necessary to
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 235 
 
 convince the sheriff that he was not an aboli 
 tionist. This was not easy, as it was known 
 that, in company with a young schoolteacher 
 named James G. Elaine, he had come from 
 the North; but he proved by old Champ that 
 he was not opposed to slavery, and that he 
 owned no negroes simply because he was not 
 able. Lou Biddle, the town marshal, asked 
 him many pointed questions concerning the 
 escape of the three negroes; and one shrewd 
 fellow, who appeared to be a lawyer, wanted 
 to know whether it was true as reported that 
 he kept up a correspondence with Preacher 
 Hoover. 
 
 "And," said the professor, "if it is some 
 times necessary for a man to evade the truth 
 in order to be a gentleman, as it has often 
 been declared, it is surely essential at times to 
 avoid the truth for the sake of self-protection. 
 I made to them a speech which surely they 
 must remember. Knowing their fondness for 
 oratorical flourish, I heaped 'dictionary' words 
 upon them, with a telling figure thrown in 
 from time to time by old Champ, and I am 
 persuaded that we are now safe from further 
 molestation."
 
 236 "TURK" 
 
 "If you don't believe so," his wife spoke 
 up, "I think we ought to move over into 
 Ohio." 
 
 Nan objected. She knew nothing about 
 Ohio, but she had heard that in that State a 
 negress was regarded with more favor than a 
 white woman. She declared that if the 
 negroes were slaves in the South, it was 
 because God had made them such; and turn 
 ing his eyes upon her, the professor looked at 
 her a long time. 
 
 "You don't know what you are talking 
 -about," said he, and Mrs. Emory slowly shook 
 her head. But Nan was not so easily to be 
 silenced. "If God didn't want 'em to be 
 slaves, He would set 'em free," she said; and 
 the professor threw down his pipe, got out of 
 his chair and, with a gesture that looked like 
 a thrust of a sword, declared: 
 
 "And He will set them free in His own 
 good time, and it will soon be here." He sat 
 down, but did not take up his pipe he sat 
 and mused and then, looking up suddenly, he 
 said: "And by the way, Turk, I did you a 
 good turn to-day. I met a man who is soon 
 to start for New Orleans with a drove of
 
 THE MEN WITH SWITCHES 237 
 
 mules. He was in need of one other helper 
 and I recommended you. The winter is com 
 ing on and we shall have no particular need 
 of you here. It will give you a chance to see 
 a quaint old city and, besides, will pay you 
 well. He will be over to see you to-morrow 
 morning. What do you think of it?" 
 
 I looked at Nan. She was holding a kitten 
 in her lap, stroking its ears, but she did not 
 look at me. Had she heard her father's 
 words? 
 
 "What do you think of it?" he repeated. 
 
 "It's all right," I answered. "I'd like to go." 
 
 "You'd be a goose if you didn't," said Nan, 
 stroking the kitten. "I wish I had such a 
 chance." 
 
 When Mrs. Emory remarked that the dis 
 tance was great and the way not without dan 
 ger, Nan laughed out that surely now I must 
 go, as danger was my chief pleasure. After 
 this I would have gone, had the road led 
 through a swamp of snakes and a thicket of 
 wild cats. So that night my effects were put 
 into a faded carpet-bag, which did not seem 
 any heavier for the "packing"; and when 
 all of them had gone to bed, I took the bag
 
 238 "TURK" 
 
 up to my garret, and in it I tenderly placed 
 a book and a bit of candle. Ah, it had been a 
 long time since kindly hands had brought 
 another book and a new candle. Little Amy, 
 the good and now she had forgotten me, 
 away at school, and in love with a professor 
 who had lamps and a library.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 
 
 ARLY on the following morning a 
 man came riding one horse and 
 leading another. He had not the 
 time to dismount, he said; his 
 drove of mules was on the county road, about 
 a mile away, and we must be off at once. He 
 looked around, over my head, as if trying to 
 seek out his new assistant; and when the pro 
 fessor introduced me, there fell upon the 
 drover a dark look of disappointment. 
 
 "You don't mean," said he, "that this is the 
 boy that defended your house?' 1 
 
 "This is the boy; and when needs be, he is 
 as full of fight as a gamecock." 
 
 "Do you think you can climb on this 
 horse?" the man inquired of me; and I threw 
 my carpet-bag on the ground and told him 
 that I'd see him roasting rather than join his 
 party; but he laughed with broad good 
 
 nature and told me to mount. 
 
 239
 
 240 ' TURK " 
 
 I shook hands with Mrs. Emory, with the 
 professor, and turned to find Nan; but off in 
 a distant part of the yard she was playing 
 with as worthless a dog as ever sneaked under 
 the house whenever there was danger. I 
 called to her. She answered, "Good-bye," 
 and continued to play with the dog. 
 
 And so I left them, riding a big sorrel 
 horse, with my carpet-bag hooked over the 
 horn of the saddle. My new master, Captain 
 Starks, offered me a cigar and told me that 
 we should have a famous trip, with the pros 
 pect of shooting a few highwaymen. This 
 brightened me; but I complained about the 
 carpet-bag, when he laughed and said, "Why, 
 you didn't expect that you'd have to carry it 
 that way, did you? As soon as we catch up, 
 we'll throw it into the wagon, and then you'll 
 be a sure-enough cavalryman. I reckon the 
 professor man thought he had work to per 
 suade me to take you; but as soon as I heard 
 you were one of the old feud Griffins, I was 
 willing enough. And when I pretended to be 
 disappointed at your size, I was doing it just 
 for fun. I wanted to get a glimpse of your 
 mettle."
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 241 
 
 Our charge consisted of about six hundred 
 head of mules and a force of fourteen men 
 a goodly company of horse, and needed, too, 
 for depredations were frequent. Not long 
 before our trip a mule-drover and his guard 
 of several men had been set upon by robbers, 
 two of them shot, and all of the mules driven 
 off. But we were better prepared; and on 
 the first night of camping out, I could hardly 
 sleep for the pistol that lay on the blanket 
 beside me the first revolver I had ever seen, 
 blue-bright, and catching the rays of the moon, 
 reminding me of Nan's eyes when, brimming 
 over with light, they looked up at me in the 
 dark shadow of the fence. Of course I had 
 never been out of Kentucky, and I began to 
 feel like a foreigner when we crossed the 
 Tennessee line. Still there was no suggestion 
 of adventure. I spoke to Captain Starks 
 about it, and he told me to wait until we were 
 well down into the pine woods; and I waited 
 impatiently, as if adventure were the sole 
 object of the expedition. Down among the 
 murmur-gossiping pines we went; and now 
 for days at a time we saw no house, but our 
 camp at night was as quiet as an ordinary
 
 242 "TURK" 
 
 barnyard. At last we came upon the great 
 cotton plantations and thence into the sugar 
 cane country where "Nellie Gray toiled her life 
 away," and we saw many a white man who 
 might have been the one to take her thither, 
 bound with his chain; but what worried me 
 was that no one tried to steal our mules. 
 Among the men my disappointment became a 
 joke, and they called me the hornet. 
 
 One old fellow named Trigg remarked that 
 before I was much older, the land would hear 
 shooting enough and see blood till its eyes 
 were red with weeping; and this reminds me 
 that, whenever we halted in a public place, 
 there was going on a grave discussion. Old 
 men were advising caution, but the younger 
 ones were using a word that I had never 
 heard before "secession"; and when I asked the 
 Captain what it meant, he shook his head and 
 sagely remarked, "It may mean hell breaking 
 loose to beat tan bark." In this there was no 
 enlightenment, but I pretended that there 
 was; and that night I lay with my pistol 
 cocked, waiting for the first stroke upon the 
 tan bark. 
 
 Now we were in the neighborhood of New
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 243 
 
 Orleans; and, no matter how game a country 
 man may be, he approaches a great city with 
 fear and caution. At school a boy had told 
 me of his trip to Cincinnati; that some evil 
 men sewed him in a sack and were about to 
 toss him into the river, when the mayor came 
 and drove them away; but he had to give the 
 mayor all the money he had, such being the 
 established fee for deliverance. Now I 
 wished that my two old enemies of the woods 
 might come along with their sack or with 
 switches to give me another whipping; and 
 there was a chance that I might encounter 
 them, too; for had not Riddleberry Buck told 
 me that they were engaged in transporting 
 salt down the river? 
 
 It was evening when we entered the city, 
 and I never afterwards felt so much afraid 
 under the fire of war as I was in that dazzle 
 of light. When the mules had been turned 
 into a great wagon-yard, we went to a monster 
 hotel where more than a hundred people were 
 eating supper in a room so bright that it hurt 
 my eyes. After supper, in company with 
 several of our men, I walked about the town, 
 keeping a sharp lookout for the man with the
 
 244 "TURK" 
 
 sack. We went to a theater, and there I was 
 in heaven; for a villain that needed killing, if 
 ever one did, was stabbed by a woman whom 
 he had betrayed. I yelled in my wild 
 approval, and a man with a star breastpin 
 came and told me that if I didn't behave 
 myself he would put me out. I bristled up 
 and told him to bring on his sack and try to 
 sew me up in it. Every one within hearing 
 laughed, and I felt that I was a wit. 
 
 After the show some of our men began to 
 drink, and thirst came scorching hot upon me; 
 but I fought it off; and when we returned to 
 the hotel, I was so thankful for my strength 
 that I should have prayed in my room, and 
 didn't only because I wasn't acquainted with 
 the customs of the town. The next morning 
 the Captain discharged us, giving to me more 
 money than I had ever seen before, twenty- 
 three dollars and a half; and I was about to 
 tell him that he might keep it if he would give 
 me the pistol, when he remarked, "Turk, on 
 your way home, I'm sure the robbers will get 
 after you, so you'd better keep that revolver." 
 
 "Do you mean that I may have it?" I 
 queried, and he nodded.
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 245 
 
 "That's what I mean," said he, and an ocu 
 lar gauze dropped between him and me. But, 
 afraid that he might change his mind, I 
 sneaked away and did not tell him good-bye. 
 
 It was my duty to go home. No return 
 arrangements had been agreed upon; for we 
 had been hired to go to New Orleans, but not 
 to come back; and as I had no horse, I went 
 down to the river to request the privilege of 
 working my passage on a steamboat. On the 
 way to the wharf, I met a man who told me 
 that he was hungry. He said that he had 
 arrived in town with plenty of money but that 
 he had been robbed; and my sympathy went 
 out to him. But not long afterward, when I 
 told some one that I had been robbed, there 
 was no sympathy for me. I was laughed at, 
 and I sneaked away. My money was gone, 
 but I had my pistol and was still thankful. I 
 can't recall how that fellow got my money. I 
 think he asked me to let him count it; and 
 when I handed it over, he dodged down an 
 alley and was gone. 
 
 Along the wharf there were a great array of 
 steamboats with their noses stuck together 
 into the bank, like hogs feeding; but nobody
 
 246 " TURK " 
 
 had time to talk to me, and more than once I 
 came near being knocked into the river. 
 Finally a man said that if I would help roll on 
 hogsheads of sugar, he would take me as far 
 as Memphis, the end of his voyage; and I 
 thought him exceptionally kind. But the 
 next moment he swore at me and commanded 
 me to take hold. Cursed me! I whipped 
 about and was in for a fight, when an Irish 
 man ran up and told me not to take it to 
 heart, that the man was the mate and always 
 talked like that. 
 
 "Why," said he, "I hearrud him say to the 
 wife of him, 'Dairlant, ye damn fool, come to 
 dinner.' " This eased my anger, and I went to 
 work. 
 
 The Irishman was a good fellow. He made 
 it as light for me as he could; and at night, 
 when we slept on the deck, he shared his 
 blanket with me. But my work did not con 
 tinue long. On the morning of the second 
 day I was seized with a fever; and upon 
 reaching Memphis, they had to carry me 
 ashore. In the shade of a shed they placed 
 me, and the Irishman went away. After a 
 time there came two women with sweet faces,
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 247 
 
 sisters of chanty, and they took me to a hos 
 pital, where I remained for nearly four 
 months. 
 
 When I was able to get about, they got me 
 some light work to do. I told one of the sis 
 ters that I would work until I got enough 
 money to pay them, no matter if it took ten 
 years; but she smiled and said that I owed 
 nothing, nor would she hear of taking a cent 
 from me. More than a dozen times did I try 
 to write to the professor; but, always afraid 
 that Nan might see the letter and laugh at it, 
 I gave up all attempt. Once I thought of sell 
 ing my pistol for enough money to take me 
 home, but shook off the prompting, not as a 
 temptation but as a chill. In town there was 
 no work for which I was fitted, and I went 
 into the country and hired out to a planter. 
 He was kind to me, but the overseer looked 
 upon me as if I were a negro, and quietly I 
 waited for a reasonable excuse to teach him 
 better. He must have seen something in my 
 jaundiced eye, for he never gave me sufficient 
 cause to kill him. 
 
 During seven months I worked from dawn 
 till dark, and finally, with new clothes and the
 
 248 "TURK" 
 
 first pair of thin shoes I had ever owned, I 
 got on my first railway train. To whiz across 
 the country in the direction of home was a 
 delight, but what was waiting for me? Noth 
 ing but hard work and low wages. Still, it 
 was home, and I was not yet free from the 
 legal bonds that held me. I had been gone 
 more than a year. And it must be that some 
 times a fever causes a boy to grow, for the 
 one pair of trousers brought from home was 
 now too short, and of this I was rather proud. 
 I felt that Nan must notice my added height, 
 and I didn't know but that her father might 
 increase my wages. In the fact that I had 
 seen the city and had traveled on a great 
 steamboat I took pride, and surely the girl 
 could not laugh at my adventures, particularly 
 when I should tell her that I had been robbed, 
 and that two ladies with sweet faces had taken 
 me to a hospital more than twice as big as 
 our barn. 
 
 The train took me to Louisville, where there 
 was another dazzle of lights, but I had now 
 grown world-wise and was not astonished at 
 them. An old man grinding a thing that 
 groaned out a sort of tune held a cup out at
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 249 
 
 me, and I told him that I could count my own 
 money, what little I had; but he called on 
 God to bless me, and I gave him ten cents. 
 Another railroad ran out of Louisville, some 
 what in the direction of Scoville, but missing 
 that town by about fifteen miles, so I decided 
 to go as far as possible and then walk. They 
 put me off at a station in the woods where 
 there was a great array of tan bark stacked 
 up, and I thought of Captain Starks and won 
 dered what had become of him. My way now 
 lay through the woods, off to the left, toward 
 Scoville, and with a stick thrust through the 
 "ears" of my carpet-bag I set out. A killing 
 frost had fallen, and slowly the leaves were 
 fluttering down through the mellow air. The 
 glitter of spring and the dazzling shine of 
 summer had departed from the streams, leav 
 ing them a luminous amber; and the wild 
 grape was ripe on the vine where the yellow- 
 hammer fluttered. Along the top rail of a 
 fence the gray squirrel ran so swiftly that his 
 tail seemed a long streak of fringe; and down 
 from the billowless ocean of blue came the 
 caw of the crow. 
 
 My course lay through Scoville; but in the
 
 250 "TURK" 
 
 town I did not intend to halt, for the nearer 
 I drew the more anxious I was to reach home. 
 Out of a hundred recollections came little 
 thrills, emotion pictures of times gone by; and 
 many a look and many a tone of voice came 
 out of that short past which then had seemed 
 so long. 
 
 There had been a day when to me Scoville 
 was a wilderness of urban mysteries. The 
 buildings were palatial, and the streets were 
 endless; but now, since my travels, the town 
 was but a blotch upon a gullied hillside. But 
 as hunger had for several hours kept company 
 with me, I entered a tumble-down shanty, 
 above whose door "Snack House" was writ 
 ten, and sitting down at the end of a long 
 table asked for something to eat, when a 
 voice cried out, "Hello, you!" and up came 
 Nick Bowles, wearing among other flashes of 
 fashion a red necktie adorned with a lump of 
 glass. Before I could get upon my feet, he 
 took my hand and swaggered over me, and I 
 felt that he must have advanced in the world's 
 favor. 
 
 "Keep your seat," he said and, turning to 
 the negro waiter, commanded him to bring
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 251 
 
 forth the best he had, which I soon found out 
 was also the worst. "Make yourself at home 
 here," said Nick; and having railed at the 
 negro, turned to me again with, "I don't 
 reckon you've been back long enough to hear 
 about my good luck." 
 
 I swaggered becomingly and replied that I 
 was just returning from my travels. At the 
 word "travels" he sniffed somewhat loftily and 
 remarked that a man could very often do bet 
 ter by not going away from home. 
 
 "You spoke of your luck," said I, "what are 
 you doing?" 
 
 "What am I doing? Ask any man in town. 
 Why, I'm bartender over at the Gem Saloon. 
 For a while after comin' here I worked at a 
 livery stable, but after a month or so I got the 
 job of scrubbin' around the Gem; and when 
 the bartender got killed, I took his place 
 while the boss was hidin' out from the grand 
 jury, and when he come back, he put me on 
 regular. Git through with your dinner and 
 come over and see." 
 
 "I'd rather go into a den of rattlesnakes," I 
 replied. 
 
 Smiling at me, he said, "Sho' 'nuff ? Well,
 
 252 "TURK" 
 
 that's where you and me are different. I've 
 got so I can take just so many drinks a day 
 and not git too much. You could git that 
 way, too, if you'd try. By the way, I drove by 
 the professor's last Sunday, and I would have 
 stopped, but there didn't appear to be nobody 
 at home. But Sam Hawkins was out there 
 not long ago, and he tells me that Nan is as 
 putty as a peach; but he 'lowed she was high- 
 headeder than a blooded colt in a pasture." 
 
 I pretended to pay no attention, and after a 
 time I asked him if he ever heard from 
 Preacher Hoover. 
 
 "Yes, sir, got a letter from him not long ago 
 with a couple of twenty-dollar notes in it. I 
 reckon he's makin' money up there a lecturin' 
 to the Yankees. Well, I'm up in the world 
 and don't need his money, still it will take 
 him a good while at that rate to pay for my 
 daddy, and I'll pocket all the money he's a 
 mind to send. Say, if you are goin' out to 
 the professor's, I'll hitch up and drive you. 
 It's election day in town, and our saloon is 
 closed up." 
 
 I was tired, the hinges of my knees seemed 
 rusty, and my feet were heavy; but I told him
 
 SEEING THE WORLD 253 
 
 that I preferred to walk. He argued with 
 me; but I was firm, and shouldering my 
 carpet-bag, I hastened away, fearing that he 
 and my own weariness might tempt me to 
 drive with him. 
 
 Coming upon the professor's land along 
 toward evening, I saw that the fields had been 
 laid off about as they were the year before 
 corn in the same place and tobacco on the 
 upland, where I had toiled so hard. As I 
 approached the barn, there was a great cack 
 ling of hens, and then my heart beat high, for 
 out came a figure in a long dress, with apron 
 gathered up in front. It was Nan.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 
 
 HERE she stood, radiant in the rays 
 of the sinking sun; and as now I 
 look back upon her, she seems 
 ever to have been in the sun or the 
 moon. She did not see me until I spoke, 
 within a few feet of her, when she turned 
 about, and with no sign of surprise said, "I've 
 got thirteen eggs." 
 
 "One for each month I was away," I replied, 
 and with her old laugh she. said, "No, they 
 ain't crow eggs." 
 
 I offered my hand, but she gathered up the 
 eggs as if she did not see me; and together 
 we walked along toward the house, not nearly 
 so well acquainted as we had been almost 
 strangers, it seemed to me. I spoke of her 
 long dress, and she said it was time to put it 
 on, as she had "set out," and that ever so 
 many young men were coming to see her. 
 
 "Don't you think I've grown a good deal 
 
 since I left?" 
 
 254
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 255 
 
 She looked at me. "Who, you? Why, you 
 couldn't grow. You are too little." But I 
 saw that she did to herself acknowledge that 
 I had grown, for she surveyed me from head 
 to foot. "And my, such new clothes !" she 
 said. "You look almost like a gentleman. 
 No, I won't go that far, but you do look a 
 heap better than you did. Oh, and before we 
 get to the house, let me tell you something. 
 Amy is at home and ain't going back to school 
 again, for she is engaged to one of the pro 
 fessors; and he wrote to father, and father 
 wrote to him and called him all sorts of names 
 and said he'd shoot him if he ever came here; 
 and yesterday Amy got a letter from him, and 
 he said he was coming no matter if they shot 
 him full of lead. Ain't he brave? Don't you 
 wish you were that brave? Ha, don't you? 
 Of course you do. And in the night mother 
 cries and comes and kneels down at our bed 
 and puts her arms around Amy, and then they 
 both cry. Ain't that lovely? Why, you know 
 Amy is old enough to get married. She is 
 eighteen, and that means she will soon be 
 an old maid, and wouldn't that be terrible? I 
 don't want to be the sister of an old maid.
 
 256 " TURK " 
 
 Would you? But, of course, with you it 
 would be different, for if you had any sisters 
 all of them would be old maids, wouldn't 
 they? I told Amy she ought to run away; 
 and I wish she would. It would be such fun 
 to see her climbing out of the window and to 
 hear her professor sighing out in the dark. 
 Amy says he sighs all the time, and she is 
 afraid he will die; but I don't think he will. 
 Father said he was an infamous scoundrel; 
 and then he and mother had a quarrel, and 
 mother cried. I never saw so much crying in 
 my life. I told mother we must be going to 
 have a dry season because this one was so 
 wet, and she threatened to box my ears. Oh, 
 we've had such a time." 
 
 The professor was standing at the gate, evi 
 dently watching for Amy's lover; and when, 
 with a loud call, he greeted me, Mrs. Emory 
 came out and, seeing me, ran and put her 
 arms about me. The professor grabbed me 
 by the hand and said that I had come back in 
 good time, that he might have need of my 
 moon-light vigils and my gunpowder; and 
 then out came Amy with her face pale and 
 her eyes red, for she must have had a fresh
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 257 
 
 spell of weeping. She didn't say any 
 thing as she took my hand, but her lips 
 moved, and then she turned away and hid her 
 eyes. 
 
 In a few words I told the professor why I 
 had remained away so long; and when he 
 asked why I had not written, I told him the 
 truth, though Nan stood there. At the sup 
 per table I entertained them with my adven 
 tures; and when I came to the sisters of 
 charity, Amy cried out that she was going to 
 be a nun. Mrs. Emory's tears began to fall, 
 and upon his plate the professor threw down 
 his knife with a loud clang. He got up and 
 walked away, and Mrs. Emory told me that 
 they were all so miserable, and then Amy 
 joined in with her tears. Between the flurries 
 there were calms, during which we talked of 
 things gone and things hoped for, but not long 
 at a time, for some word always fell to bring 
 about another flurry of grief. 
 
 Bedtime promised to come in a calm, and 
 with a sense of gratitude in my heart, I slipped 
 out and made a cross mark on the door of the 
 smokehouse. Shortly afterward the girls 
 went out to look for a hen that had led her
 
 258 "TURK" 
 
 late brood away from the fold of safety. 
 They found her in a corner of the fence 
 where soon, no doubt, she would have been 
 prey for a prowling fox in the very corner 
 where one night Nan and I had stood, waiting 
 not for foxes, but for wolves that came howl 
 ing through the woods. It was a long time 
 since a fresh mark had been made on that 
 door, but when I went up to my garret room, 
 there on my box lay a book and a new candle. 
 In my heart I blessed the poor girl whose soul 
 was now so full of trouble; and early the fol 
 lowing morning I began to thank her, but she 
 turned away, and as soft words seemed ever 
 to call for her tears, I no further strove to 
 speak my gratitude. 
 
 The day started out well. The season had 
 been good, labor fair, and the crops were 
 large. Tobacco was going up in price, and a 
 drouth in the West had made corn an article 
 of cash value. Mrs. Emory smiled as the 
 professor talked of building a new house. 
 Nan said that they were going to build a 
 church near the grove where Mr. Hoover had 
 preached, a church and schoolhouse com 
 bined, almost as big as a college; but at the
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 259 
 
 word college the professor looked dark, Amy 
 sighed, and then came another flurry. 
 
 So shortly returned from so long an 
 absence, it was not expected that I should go 
 to work at once, so stealing off I went over to 
 visit my old friend Champ Jones. 
 
 I found him behind his cabin, skinning a 
 mink that his trap had snapped up the night 
 before, and he thrust forth his hand and gave 
 me a tight squeeze. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, as if I had been a man 
 six feet high, "we missed you around here. 
 As the world grows older, true worth becomes 
 a scarcer article, I tell you; and when a fellow 
 drops out of sight, it is then we begin to know 
 how much we valued him. Of course, you're 
 not old enough yet to understand this, but the 
 time will come yes, sir, it will come. Take 
 hold of this gentleman's soft shirt and help 
 me pull it off. That's it. Don't blame him 
 for not wanting to lose his garment; but I 
 don't suppose he would mind pulling off mine 
 if he were able." 
 
 I asked him about his political bible, the 
 New York Tribune, and knowingly he shook 
 his grizzled head. "Well, sir, it is bringing
 
 260 " TURK " 
 
 things to a focus. You've heard of George 
 D. Prentice, haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I heard some men away down South 
 talk about him." 
 
 "Well, you know he came to Kentucky to 
 write the life of Henry Clay; and as editor of 
 the Louisville Journal I think he would advo 
 cate abolition if he dared, but it would mean 
 the mobbing of his office. Of course he pre 
 tends to shoot at Greeley once in a while, but 
 he usually ends up with some hidden compli 
 ment. Lord a mercy, though, how he does 
 harpoon old Brownlow! Let me wash my 
 hands, and we'll go in and sit down. Take 
 that gourd and pour me some water." 
 
 When we went into the house, he showed 
 me the biggest double-barrel shotgun I ever 
 saw. It was a duck gun, to be used in a boat, 
 and would chamber ten buck-shot at least. 
 "And you'll notice several holes around in the 
 wall where I can thrust it out. Our com 
 munity hasn't improved morally since you left, 
 and one of these nights the prowlers may come 
 after me that is, if they like." 
 
 While we were talking, a rig with high 
 wheels stopped in the road, and a man called
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 261 
 
 out to us. We went forth, and a youngish- 
 looking fellow asked if we would give him a 
 drink of water. Hereupon old Champ, 
 remarking that the water in the pail was not 
 fresh, poured it on the ground and set out for 
 the spring, while the man sat there looking 
 about as if he were in a strange country. I 
 asked him if he were going far, and he smiled 
 agreeably, showing gold in his teeth, and said 
 that he might go further than he wished. I 
 didn't understand such talk as this and told 
 him so, but he smiled again and asked if I 
 knew a certain Professor Emory. 
 
 "I live at his house, sir." 
 
 "Ah, you don't tell me! And in that event, 
 I presume, you must be acquainted with his 
 daughter." 
 
 "He has two daughters, sir," I replied. 
 
 "I refer to his daughter Amy." He hesi 
 tated, as if the name were sacred to him, and 
 I knew that her professor was before me. 
 "Have you heard any talk derogatory to my 
 interest since a certain letter, which indeed 
 you may not know was written, but which, I 
 assure you, was written and that, too, in most 
 threatening terms. Have you?"
 
 262 " TURK " 
 
 "I have heard a good deal of talk, sir, but 
 the girl loves you; and if I were in your place, 
 it wouldn't make any difference to me how 
 much they talked or threatened, I'd go there 
 and carry her off." 
 
 "Bless my soul! Young man, give me your 
 hand. Ah, you must be the young man, Turk. 
 I have heard Amy speak of you." 
 
 Old Champ returned with the water and 
 offered a gourd dripping full. The young 
 man drank, made a bow, which I should have 
 liked to copy before Nan, returned the gourd, 
 and inquired if I should like to ride with him. 
 To leave Champ without any explanation 
 would be rude, I thought, so turning to the 
 new professor I said, "This man is a friend of 
 the family. Tell him what you have come 
 for." 
 
 "Ah, rather a blunt way to express it, I am 
 sure. However Here he looked at 
 
 Champ, "Go ahead," commanded the old 
 man, and the professor explained that he was 
 in love with Emory's daughter, and that he 
 was going to urge his suit. It was the first 
 time I had heard it put that way urging a 
 suit and I laughed; but the collegiate lover
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 263 
 
 looked grave and said that it was surely not a 
 matter to excite mirth. Then I told him that 
 I was very ignorant and that he must pardon 
 me, which he did with a vigorous shake of 
 my hand. He told us that his name was 
 Kirkpatrick, which struck with favor upon my 
 ear, as the Irishman who had been so kind to 
 me was named Patrick. He asked if we 
 should drive straight up to the house, and I 
 told him yes, as soon as we got back into the 
 main road, from which he had wandered. I 
 got into his high rig, and on we went. 
 
 "I can't understand his objections," said the 
 collegian. "My family is, I am sure, as good' 
 as his, and besides he has never seen me. 
 Ah, can you not devise some method of 
 approach other than driving up to the gate?" 
 Then came to me an idea that I fancied might 
 work well. 
 
 "Let me get out and go in advance and sit 
 about as if nothing was going to happen. In 
 the meantime I'll tell Miss Amy that you are 
 coming, and at the proper time you drive up 
 and ask to stay all night. You can give any 
 sort of name you please, and the next day 
 you needn't be in a hurry to get off. You can
 
 264 "TURK" 
 
 soon find out what the professor likes to talk 
 about. It wouldn't be bad if you hinted some 
 thing about abolition." 
 
 "Young man, you are a general. I shall do 
 as you say." 
 
 So, when we were within a mile of the pro 
 fessor's house, I got out and cut across a near 
 way. The afternoon was soft, the mellow lag- 
 end of Indian summer, and the family sat out 
 beneath the great oak tree. Supposing that I 
 had been over to Champ's, the professor asked 
 how the old man was getting along, and I told 
 him about the duck gun, and he laughed and 
 said that one of these nights was to mark a sad 
 epoch in the history of night prowlers. After 
 a time Amy went into the house to fetch 
 something, and I followed her. When I told 
 her my news she almost fainted, and of 
 course she was frightened at my plan, but 
 agreed to act her part, and shortly afterward, 
 when we were again beneath the tree, she said, 
 "I wonder who that is coming along yonder." 
 
 "He's got a shining turn-out," said the pro 
 fessor. "Think I saw that same rig over at 
 Scoville the other day. Hello, he's going to 
 stop."
 
 265 
 
 The professor went out to the gate and 
 soon returned with the stranger, who bowed 
 awkwardly and said that he wanted to stay all 
 night. From a most polished gentleman he 
 had become blunt, but with it all he appeared 
 to be frank; and I knew that he would soon 
 please the professor. He was selling Bibles, 
 he said; at a house not far down the road he 
 had sold the last one, "but, Madam," he added, 
 speaking to Mrs. Emory, "as soon as I return 
 to Cincinnati, I shall have one of our hand 
 somest sent to you." 
 
 Mrs. Emory said that he was very kind, she 
 was sure, and Amy asked him if he had any 
 Sunday-school books. He was sorry, but his 
 house printed truth, not fiction; and the pro 
 fessor laughed. 
 
 "I'm glad to hear you say that," said he. 
 "Of all the trash the world ever saw, the 
 trashiest is the average Sunday-school book. 
 It would be far better if they should stock 
 their libraries with 'Vicars of Wakefield' and 
 'Tom Joneses.' We had a church to burn 
 down some time ago, sir, and out of it arose 
 one good, the destruction of books that dis 
 graced the printer's art. Perhaps you may
 
 266 "TURK" 
 
 have heard of a preacher named Hoover. 
 He left this community rather hastily, to save 
 his life, he thought, and is now settled in your 
 city." 
 
 The visitor had heard of him, "a most 
 eccentric and suddenly-spoken man." "Some 
 where," said he, "I read one of his sermons in 
 which he was firm in the old faith of infant 
 condemnation;" and then I knew that the 
 sentiment of Mrs. Emory's letters to her 
 daughter had found lodgment in him. 
 
 "Ah, I hope," spoke the good woman, "that 
 you did not subscribe to those heartless 
 views." 
 
 "Far be it from me," replied the visitor. 
 Then he begged pardon for not having intro 
 duced himself. His name was Kirk, he said; 
 upon which the professor shook hands with 
 him, while Mrs. Emory bowed and said that 
 he was welcome at her house. 
 
 I was sent to back the high rig under the 
 shed and to put up the horses, and when I 
 returned, Mr. Kirk and the family were on the 
 easiest of terms. Abolition was just about 
 slyly to creep into their talk; when, looking 
 about as if afraid of evil ears, Mr. Kirk
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 267 
 
 remarked that the devil's chosen children 
 were appointed to sell the humble flesh and 
 blood of the Lord's down-trodden, which 
 caused the professor to beam upon him. 
 
 "Let me show you my farm," said he, and 
 together they walked away; and Mrs. Emory, 
 looking after them as they crossed the road 
 into the field, remarked upon her pleasure at 
 seeing her husband again interested in the 
 general affairs of life. 
 
 We all of us were soon astir to prepare the 
 best supper possible, Mrs. Emory remarking 
 that it was always agreeable to have visitors 
 from the intelligent world. And she added 
 that she thought Mr. Kirk an exceedingly 
 handsome man. Amy had not taken particu 
 lar notice of his looks, but she thought that 
 his voice was musical; and looking out I saw 
 shrewd Nan, standing half-hidden behind a 
 tree, laughing. When I moved towards her, 
 she threw a piece of bark in my face and ran 
 away, all of a giggle, her unaccustomed long 
 skirt tangling about her ankles. 
 
 I followed, calling on her to stop, which she 
 did at the door of the carpenter shop; and 
 there I made a confidante of her. She moved
 
 268 
 
 back inside the shop, tossed up a handful of 
 shavings, ran under the shower, and with the 
 blond curls of poplar clinging to her black 
 ringlets, she ran out, declaring that she was 
 going to tell. I followed her to the dining- 
 room, but upon entering I found her as sober 
 as a matron. After a time she made a sign to 
 Amy, they went out, and I saw them hugging 
 each other in the yard. 
 
 We sat up late that night, and when the old 
 clock struck one, the professor said to Mr. 
 Kirk, "You are not going to leave us to-mor 
 row, sir. It is with truth that I say that not 
 for more than a year have I been so enter 
 tained. You say that you are to await orders 
 sent from your house to Scoville. Be our 
 guest until that time." 
 
 "It may be more than a week," Mr. Kirk 
 replied, and the professor heartily rejoined, 
 "And suppose, sir, that it should be two 
 weeks? You are welcome here." 
 
 Thus it was agreed that Mr. Kirk should be 
 our guest as long as he could possibly remain; 
 and while I was prowling about in the dark I 
 passed the hen-house, where, by the light of the 
 lantern, the professor and his wife were seeing
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 269 
 
 that the chickens were safely housed, and 
 there I heard them talking. 
 
 "He may be only a book-agent now," said 
 the professor, "but the time is coming when 
 we shall hear more of him;" and in my mind 
 I entered no dispute. "And see with what 
 indifference our daughters regard him," the 
 professor went on. "But it is always the way, 
 a woman's eye is blind to real worth." 
 
 "I discovered your worth, Walter. There 
 is one chicken of this brood missing. No, 
 here it is." 
 
 "Women were different then, my dear." 
 
 The next morning Amy wanted to visit a 
 friend in Scoville, and Mr. Kirk kindly offered 
 to drive her thither in his high rig. When 
 they drove off, Nan ran into the carpenter 
 shop again. They did not return until late in 
 the afternoon, and then they appeared to be a 
 little better acquainted. Kirk got me off to 
 one side and offered me money, but a moment 
 later he apologized. He was but half-way out 
 of his difficulty, he said; the professor must 
 surely resent the deception. When I told 
 him to marry Amy and then make himself 
 known, he shook his head and declared that
 
 270 "TURK" 
 
 such a course would never do. On the fol 
 lowing night he took Amy to a revival meet 
 ing away over at Mt. Zion, and the professor 
 and his wife were pleased. It was now evi 
 dent that she was growing fond of Mr. Kirk, 
 and I fancied that I heard Mrs. Emory mur 
 mur her surprise at her daughter's fickleness, 
 for which she had cause, as not since the com 
 ing of Mr. Kirk had there been any tears. 
 And it was not a fancy, but a fact, that I heard 
 the professor say, "Let her alone. She surely 
 ought to know her own mind." 
 
 I had not been set to any regular employ 
 ment. In truth, there was not much work to 
 be done at this season of the year, but with 
 hauling wood for cold weather and practicing 
 with my revolver, I was not likely to lose my 
 sense of industry. And then there was my 
 circulating library. Since Amy's return it had 
 been well supplied, and though now the pro 
 fessor would have forced no objection to my 
 reading, yet to steal the time by the light of a 
 candle was sweeter, and so I kept up the 
 practice. 
 
 One night I went over to old Champ's to 
 look at his duck gun again. I told him of
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 271 
 
 Kirk's progress, at which the old man laughed 
 till he had to lean far over to get the ache out 
 of his side, and so pleased was he at the confi 
 dence I had placed in him that he offered to 
 let me fire his gun. So, thrusting the mon 
 strous thing through one of the holes cut for 
 its use, I fired it into the woods; and as old 
 Champ was helping me off the floor where I 
 had been sprawled, he asked me how I liked 
 it. I remember to have growled that, if both 
 ends were equal, he could put himself and 
 his enemies out of the way at the same 
 time. 
 
 It was late when I returned home, but the 
 professor and Mr. Kirk were up, talking on 
 subjects that I did not understand. Once in 
 a while they would dispute, and then I would 
 fear that their agreeable ties were broken; 
 but afterward I discovered that this was the 
 way with schoolmen who had theories to 
 uphold. They talked about books, and I 
 wondered why some of these had lived so 
 long, being so worthless; but I was pleased 
 when they agreed that a certain book which 
 had just come out was an immortal piece of 
 work. The fact that it died many years ago,
 
 272 " TURK " 
 
 and that its author is now unknown, makes no 
 difference; I was glad then to know that it 
 was immortal. 
 
 This was on a Saturday; and just after a 
 spat more threatening than any that had gone 
 before, the two men agreed that they would 
 go to church next day at Scoville, where a 
 great preacher from the South was to prove 
 to the satisfaction of slave-owners that slavery 
 was ordained by the Lord. It was settled 
 that Mr. Kirk and Amy were to drive in the 
 high rig and that the rest of us should go in 
 the barouche; and this arrangement was to 
 my liking, for the professor, still having a 
 poor opinion of my driving, would sit in front 
 with his wife, leaving the rear seat to Nan 
 and me. We were to take luncheon with us, 
 to be eaten at a spring, coming back; and by 
 daylight the next morning the women folk 
 were busy frying chicken. Just as the sun 
 was coming up, Nan caught me shaving 
 myself in the carpenter shop. 
 
 "Oh," she said, "you think you're a man, 
 now, don't you?" 
 
 "I'm as much of a man as you are of a 
 woman."
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 273 
 
 "You might study a year and you couldn't 
 say a more foolish thing than that." 
 
 "The longer I study when you are around, 
 the more foolish I become." 
 
 "Do I take all the sense out of you, goose?*' 
 "Yes. You make me feel ignorant." 
 "Oh," she broke out anew, "you have shaved 
 some of the freckles off your face. Don't you 
 wish you could get 'em all off ? " 
 
 "I'd skin my face if it would please you." 
 "Oh, you would? Well, I don't want you to 
 please me. I don't like it. I like you best, 
 somehow, when you make me mad." 
 "You look prettier when you're mad." 
 "Do I?" She made a mouth at me. 
 The professor called us. At the table he 
 asked a long blessing and then told me to 
 hurry up and harness the horses. Ah, how 
 fondly did I look forward to that trip! Think 
 ing that I might meet Nick, I planned to 
 humiliate him by showing my repeating pistol, 
 which I had forgotten to do when I met him 
 in the Snack House; and each buckle I fast 
 ened was an added pleasure. The horses 
 were pranky, not having had much work to 
 do, and as I started off toward the gate, one
 
 274 "TURK" 
 
 of them jumped, the other capered, and thus 
 they struck one of the wheels squarely against 
 a stump, breaking out at least half of the 
 spokes. The professor saw the accident 
 knew that it was not my fault; but he came 
 roaring forth oaths, which he took back as 
 soon as he had uttered them, calling on the 
 Lord to forgive him. To mend the wheel in 
 time was impossible, and yet it was necessary 
 that the professor should hear that sermon. 
 He scratched his head, and then up came Mr. 
 Kirk. 
 
 "Four can go in my rig," said he. "Per 
 haps Turk and Miss Nan might not object to 
 remaining at home." 
 
 They all were now at the gate and over 
 heard Mr. Kirk's suggestion. I looked at 
 Nan to see how she would take it, expecting 
 that she would frown upon it, but she did not; 
 she surprised me with a smile and a nod, 
 and said that as for herself she didn't care 
 to go. 
 
 To me this was of such encouragement that 
 I was glad that the wheel had broken to be 
 alone all day with her; but I was afraid to 
 show the rising temper of my hope lest she
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 275 
 
 might blast it. The high rig drove away, 
 Amy and Mr. Kirk on the front seat, and 
 alone with Nan I stood in the yard. 
 
 "What makes you look so foolish?" she 
 asked, laughing at me; and I did feel foolish, 
 for now that we had been left to ourselves, 
 there seemed nothing to do but to stare at 
 each other. I was more embarrassed than if 
 I had met her for the first time, nor was she 
 so free as was her wont. I waited for her to 
 speak again, but she stood in silence, looking 
 down the road. After a time she went into 
 the house; and soon I followed her with an 
 armful of wood, for, though the sun was well 
 up in the cloudless sky, the air was cool. She 
 cautioned me to let the wood down easily so 
 as not to jar the plastering off the wall, and 
 she scolded me for littering the new rag car 
 pet. I got a book and thought that I was 
 reading, but she asked me to stop staring at 
 her. I told her that, if she would select some 
 spot where without offense I might bestow my 
 gaze, I would do so; at which she laughed 
 and said, "Look down and be humble." 
 
 "That is something I can't be," I replied. 
 
 "Ah, and that's the trouble with you," she
 
 276 " TURK " 
 
 said. "You are as poor as a beggar, but as 
 proud as a prince. But I don't know that I 
 like you any the less for that. Tell me about 
 your people the way they used to fight." 
 And I gave her as nearly as I could the his 
 tory of my unfortunate family, which was all 
 war with never a day of real peace; and as she 
 sat looking at me, her eyes grew soft. But it 
 was not in my mind to tell her that I loved 
 her; never had I acknowledged it to myself, 
 though I found myself often swearing that I 
 hated her. At any rate, had I loved her ever 
 so much, my words were too blunt to carry a 
 tender message. 
 
 I sat in silence musing upon this, when there 
 came a thumping at the open door. Nan 
 jumped up, seized the broom, swept the 
 hearth and called out, "Come in." By this 
 time I had seen a young fellow at the door. 
 He came in, and Nan introduced me to Mr. 
 Bloodgood, as "ornery" a looking lout as I 
 have ever seen. Of course I was shot through 
 with the pangs of jealousy, for I had ex 
 pected a whole day with Nan when we might 
 quarrel as long as we chose. In spite of his 
 fairly good clothes, this fellow looked com-
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 277 
 
 mon. He did not appear game, and to me 
 that was offense. Nan was very polite toward 
 him; she took his hat and hung it up, she 
 opened the window blind so that the sunlight 
 fell upon his mottled countenance, she hon 
 eyed him with a smile; and I looked at the 
 fire shovel, musing how easy it would be to 
 brain him with it. Nan asked him if his 
 mother were well, and he drawled out, "Yes, 
 but granny's sorter on the lift." 
 
 So this was one of the many young men 
 who Nan said were coming to see her, and I 
 said to myself that, if he were a sample, the 
 Lord in His boundless and mysterious mercy 
 must surely have pity on the rest. 
 
 Mr. Bloodgood had not long been our guest 
 when I saw that he had crowded his feet into 
 boots much too small for him, and that he was 
 suffering. To me this was a delightful dis 
 covery, and I brought more wood to feed the 
 fire so that the heat would draw the leather. 
 Nan did not detect my trickery, for she 
 praised me with her eyes and then gave ear 
 to the senseless mutterings of her visitor. 
 Pretty soon the boots began to draw, and he 
 sat with one foot on the other and with a dry
 
 278 " TURK " 
 
 grin on his face. Occasionally I ducked out 
 to laugh and to bring more fuel; and when he 
 began to look as if some ill-smelling tincture 
 were held under his nose, I had to dart out of 
 the house, stumbling and almost falling at the 
 door. When I came back, the sweat was 
 standing on his brow, and his grin had broad 
 ened. He said something about going home, 
 but Nan jumped up, declaring that he must 
 eat dinner with us, and away she went to the 
 kitchen to make the coffee. When she was 
 well out of the way, I addressed myself to 
 Bloodgood. 
 
 "Your boots appear to be hurting you." 
 
 "Jest about killin' me." 
 
 "I had a pair not long ago that almost took 
 my life. It was while I was in New Orleans, 
 and I don't know how much more I should 
 have suffered, but up came a French doctor 
 and gave me something to pour in the boots. 
 I did so, and they never hurt me at all from 
 that moment. I brought some of the stuff 
 home with me, and I'll let you have it if you 
 say so." 
 
 I think he tried to look grateful when he 
 begged me to bring the lotion. I went out
 
 THE MAN IN THE HIGH RIG 279 
 
 and soon returned with some muddy water in 
 a vial. It was necessary to take off his boots, 
 I told him; and when I helped him, it seemed 
 that the skin must come off with them. 
 
 "Ah, this feels good," he said, letting his 
 feet spread out on the floor. "I don't reckon 
 there's nothin' in the world hurts much worse 
 nor a tight boot. They are plenty high 
 enough, you see only they ain't quite high 
 enough in the instep." 
 
 I told him that I knew exactly how it was, 
 and I did; and then he poured the water into 
 his boots, taking care that there should be an 
 equal division. He was loth to put them on 
 again, dreading his punishment, but I assured 
 him that it was all right, and it was with me. 
 After a while Nan called us to dinner, and he 
 grabbed his boots, but his feet had swollen so 
 that he couldn't get them much more than 
 half on. He tugged, and I pretended to lend 
 a hand; but finally he looked up with despair 
 in his countenance and said that it was of no 
 use. He heard Nan coming, and snatching 
 up his boots he fled, taking the nearest cut for 
 the woods; and when she came in and asked 
 what had become of Mr. Bloodgood, I was so
 
 280 "TURK" 
 
 nearly choked that I couldn't tell her. Finally 
 I got it out, and she started to scold, but was 
 seized with laughter and ran out to the din 
 ing-room, where I heard such music of laughter 
 as I may never hear again in this world. 
 
 At no time during the afternoon did we get 
 back to Nan's tender-eyed state; and by the 
 time the professor and party returned from 
 church, we were far apart, having had a quar 
 rel; for when she had got out of the boot inci 
 dent all the fun there was in it for her, she 
 accused me of misusing her company. 
 
 The professor and Mr. Kirk were still hot 
 from the insult of such a sermon. The great 
 man had said that slavery was not only 
 ordained by the Lord, but that He guarded it 
 with as much zeal as if it were His own 
 acknowledged church. The slave owners 
 applauded right out in meeting; and when 
 services were over, nearly everybody crowded 
 about the preacher to shake hands with him. 
 
 "It does not appear," said Mr. Kirk, "that 
 our shipment of Bibles into this part of the 
 country does much good," and the professor 
 replied, "The trouble is that the Bible is not 
 strong enough on that point. Not one of its
 
 281 
 
 writers pronounces against slavery in a man 
 ner that cannot be gainsaid and our people 
 go so far as actually to find sacred authority 
 for owning slaves. There is no use of further 
 talk, of attempted moral suasion. The Bible 
 and the pulpit have failed. There is only one 
 other agency." 
 
 "Ah, you mean the sword," said Mr. Kirk. 
 
 "I have not said, but there is only one other 
 agency." 
 
 Mr. Kirk took out a letter, which he said 
 that the postmaster had given to him; and 
 after reading it, remarked that as his house 
 was considering the advisability of sending 
 him to a new territory, it was thought best 
 that he should wait at Scoville during at least 
 another week, until final arrangements could 
 be made. "But I shall not impose upon your 
 kindness," said he. "I may just as well board 
 in town." 
 
 "If you can put up with our fare," replied 
 the professor, "you shall remain here. Per 
 haps, sir, you are not aware of the fact that 
 we live here almost in an intellectual desert. 
 You come from the world, and we like your 
 news."
 
 282 " TURK " 
 
 And so it was settled that Mr. Kirk should 
 remain at least one week longer than had 
 been intended; and late that night I saw him 
 steal a kiss from Amy; I saw her face rosy 
 with happiness and I was not sorry for the 
 part I was playing.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A CONTRACT 
 
 N THE following morning, just as 
 we were sitting down to breakfast, 
 there came on horseback a boy 
 with a note from Captain Starks, 
 and from it I spelled out that he wished to see 
 me over at Scoville. I had not heard of him 
 since we parted in New Orleans, and still 
 holding him close to my heart, as he had 
 given me a revolver, I was not long in mak 
 ing preparations for the journey, deciding to 
 make it afoot. But the kindly Mr. Kirk came 
 forward and said that it would give him pleas 
 ure to drive me to the town. This was making 
 me important indeed, and I cut my eye at 
 Nan, but she did not notice me. In the cool 
 air I should have found pleasure in walking, 
 but I saw that Mr. Kirk had in mind some 
 thing for my ear, so I thanked him and went 
 out to harness the horses. The professor 
 asked Amy if she did not wish to go with us, 
 
 but she said that she had a piece of work to 
 
 283
 
 284 " TURK " 
 
 do, and I understood then that Mr. Kirk had 
 made her acquainted with his intention, what 
 ever it might be. As we drove off, the pro 
 fessor shouted his wish that we might soon 
 return, and then looking back, I saw him 
 making gestures to Amy and was sure that he 
 was urging her to observe some newly-found 
 trait in the character and bearing of his friend. 
 It was some time before Mr. Kirk spoke, and 
 not at all until he had turned and looked back 
 more than once to satisfy himself that it was 
 safe to speak; and when he was sure that he 
 was running no risk from some vagrant air 
 current that might waft back his words, he 
 said: 
 
 "Well, Turk, have you any advice to offer?" 
 I told him that I had not, except that it was 
 time to declare himself to the professor; and 
 he laughed, but not with the boldness that I 
 thought should be accompaniment to such a 
 determination, and said that the time was 
 surely ripe. "But the fact is, I hardly know 
 how to approach him. I find myself in a most 
 delicate situation. What would you do, or 
 rather, I might say, in what manner would 
 you go about it?"
 
 A CONTRACT 285 
 
 "I'd say that I had played off on him and 
 wanted to marry his daughter and that, if he 
 didn't give his consent, would do it anyhow." 
 
 "Too brusque, I assure you. Have you 
 nothing else to offer?" 
 
 Surely no one is so wanting in sentimental 
 wisdom as a rustic whose first experience of 
 the world was behind a drove of mules; but I 
 have never found mortal who was not capable 
 of giving advice to a lover. And so, proud of 
 my office, I thought for a time as seriously as I 
 could and replied that the shortest cut was 
 most likely to prove the best. 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Why, just say, 'Mr. Emory, I love your 
 daughter- ' ' 
 
 "I see. Proceed." 
 
 1 'Love your daughter, and she loves me, 
 and I want you to to let me marry her.' 
 Then he will look a good deal more surprised 
 than he is and tell you that he has no objec 
 tions. Then you must say, 'Well, I don't 
 know about that.' And by this time he'll be 
 surprised sure enough, and will ask you what 
 you mean. Then it will be the right time to 
 say, 'It was love that caused me to act this
 
 286 " TURK " 
 
 way, in coming to your house with a lie in my 
 throat, but if you'll give me your daughter, 
 I'll work for her and treat her right and love 
 her, and cut the throat of a man that dares 
 to look cross-eyed at her. But I don't sell 
 Bibles. I am a professor and my name is 
 Kirkpatrick. Now what are you going to do 
 about it?' " 
 
 Mr. Kirk roared with laughter. He said 
 that he could not employ my words, but that 
 I had given him a good idea. "But suppose," 
 said he, "that all of his former objections 
 should flash upon his mind and that before 
 viewing the matter in a natural and reason 
 able light, he might see it only by the red glare 
 of his anger and and in his fury leap upon 
 me. It would be embarrassing, I assure you." 
 
 I told him that I thought it would be. "But 
 if he does that," said I, "the best thing would 
 be to choke him until he agrees not to have 
 any objections." 
 
 "Ah," replied Mr. Kirk, "quite an original 
 idea, I assure you. But suppose that, when 
 we return home, you take the professor off 
 some distance and tell him the truth, and per 
 haps by the time he
 
 A CONTRACT 287 
 
 "Catches you," I suggested. 
 
 "Ah, yes, catches me he may have cooled 
 down to an acknowledgment of what I con 
 ceive to be a just claim. How does that idea 
 appeal to you?" 
 
 "All right. Leave it to me." 
 
 Hereupon the spirits of Mr. Kirk rose high, 
 like a meadow-lark which we saw mounting 
 the air, and he whistled a tune. During the 
 rest of the journey he talked not so much of 
 his love as of his school, and he used words 
 that were music to me; but when I asked him 
 to speak one of them again that I might 
 fasten it in my mind, he said that he should 
 not have used it, as for the most part the 
 short word was more apt. I told him that I 
 had always thought that the big word proved 
 that the speaker was wise; but he shook his 
 head and gave to me this advice: "Whenever 
 you can, use the Anglo-Saxon word." I 
 thanked him and said that I would, and fell to 
 wondering what he meant by Anglo-Saxon, 
 and I would have asked him, but was afraid 
 that he would think me a fool. 
 
 As we entered the town, he asked me to eat 
 dinner with him at the hotel, but at that
 
 288 "TURK" 
 
 moment I saw Captain Starks coming across 
 the street. We drew up, and the Captain 
 shook me by the hand and bade me come 
 with him to a place where we might talk; and 
 I got out of the rig after telling Mr. Kirk to 
 wait for me on the public square. But shortly 
 afterward I regretted having followed the 
 Captain, for I saw that he was heading for the 
 Gem Saloon. But drawing back would have 
 looked too squeamish, so I entered with him 
 and there was Nick behind the bar. He gave 
 a hello and with his hot hand shook mine; he 
 put out a tall bottle with a glass marble in a 
 wire net on the end of it and told me to help 
 myself. I replied that I had helped myself 
 one night on a knoll when the eyes of the sky 
 began to pop out, and I backed off from the 
 bar and sat down at a table near the wall. 
 The Captain ordered some sort of a mixed 
 drink and sat down with me, and while Nick 
 was shaking the liquor in a tin thing, 
 there came a shriek, "You're a liar." I 
 jumped up, thinking that there was going to 
 be a fight, but Nick laughed and motioned 
 with his head toward a parrot sitting on a 
 barrel.
 
 A CONTRACT 289 
 
 "Come and be a good fellow," said Nick as 
 he came forward with the Captain's drink. 
 
 "Don't urge him," the Captain spoke up. 
 
 Nick poured out straight liquor for himself 
 and sat down. "Well," said he, "how are our 
 gals gittin' along?" 
 
 "Do you remember once when I took up a 
 rail from the fence and said I would crack 
 your head with it?" said I, and the Captain 
 gave me a swift look. Nick said that he 
 recalled the time, and then I added, "Well, 
 there are no rails here, but if you speak of 
 somebody in such a place as this, I'll hit you 
 with the first thing I can get hold of." 
 
 "And serve him right," said the Captain, 
 sipping his drink. 
 
 Nick laughed. "Oh, he'd do it in a minute. 
 No yallerjacket ain't no readier to sting than 
 him. But how are you gittin' along? But 
 you don't put on no more style than you did." 
 He hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his 
 red "wescut" and looked at me. "Don't reckon 
 you need to ask how it is with me. You can 
 see for yo'se'f. And I want to tell you that a 
 man what works out o' doors is got a heap to 
 learn. I got enough of it; and you could git
 
 290 "TURK" 
 
 enough, too, if you'd take my advice. Why 
 don't you do somethin? Why don't you brace 
 yo'se'f and be somebody?" 
 
 A customer came in, and Nick hastened 
 behind the bar, upon which the Captain said 
 to me, "I'm glad that what he says don't have 
 any weight with you. And before he comes 
 back, I'll tell you what I wanted to see you 
 about. I've got together another drove of 
 mules, and I want you to go along with me as 
 my first lieutenant. On the other occasion 
 you were a private, and this time I'll pay you 
 about twice as much. What do you say?" 
 
 What could I say? To be anything that 
 smacked of authority; to feel that I was rising 
 out of the common dust of humble life and 
 might wear black clothes with a white shirt 
 and boots with high heels and a watch with a 
 big chain; to see myself arrayed in a manner 
 to catch and to hold the eye of Nan; to have 
 the professor say to me, "Ah, you are a man, 
 let me show you my farm;" indeed, to be 
 somebody other than a hired boy who at Old 
 Blood had but barely learned to read the 
 thought of it all made my heart beat fast; 
 and my emotion was not lost on the Captain,
 
 A CONTRACT 291 
 
 for, without awaiting my answer, he said, "All 
 right, Turk, and I know you will give me good 
 service. Before we get very far South, I'll 
 have to make several trips out from the main 
 command, to gather up more recruits for the 
 drove, and at such times you'll be the captain. 
 The times are shaky, and I've got to get some 
 one I can trust. We are going to outfit -here 
 in this town, and I'll see Brooks & Mass, the 
 supply men, and tell them to let you have any 
 thing you want. Of course I am ready to 
 take your word for anything, but it is better 
 to have a contract; so if you wait here till I 
 go over to a lawyer's office and have the paper 
 drawn up, you can sign it without more ado." 
 He went out carelessly for one bent on an 
 errand so great, I thought, and I sat there 
 almost in a daze. To sign a contract! Not 
 in the most free-rein indulgence of ambitious 
 fancy had I ever looked forward to the time 
 when I should be called upon to sign a con 
 tract. It was like John Hancock, the bold of 
 pen, signing the "Declaration of Independ 
 ence." For a time I was afraid to look at 
 Nick, who was cracking ice and shaking things 
 behind the bar; but I wished that he might
 
 292 " TURK " 
 
 come back to the table, so that I could dwarf 
 him with the news that I was about to sign a 
 contract, drawn up by a lawyer, under provi 
 sions set forth by the "American Constitu 
 tion." But he was kept busy by customers; 
 and pretty soon I became interested in them. 
 In came one old fellow, limping with his hand 
 on his hip, and asked Nick what was good for 
 sciatica. Nick thought that a little whisky 
 was about the best thing, and after studying 
 for a while the old fellow said that possibly it 
 was. Another man had not been able to sleep 
 the night before and therefore needed a drink. 
 A judge's stomach was out of order; a lawyer 
 had to make a speech; a farmer had fallen 
 into the creek; a merchant hated whisky, but 
 needed a tonic every one had some apology 
 to make to the bartender, and I marveled how 
 few men took whisky for whisky's sake alone. 
 After a time there came a lull, and Nick 
 swaggered out from behind the bar and stood 
 off for me to admire him. 
 
 "It won't be long before I own a half-inter 
 est in this money-makin' concern," said he; 
 and with a swell of pride I declared, "And it 
 won't be long before I sign a contract, sittin'
 
 A CONTRACT 293 
 
 right where I am now. Have you got any 
 good pens handy?" 
 
 "What sort of a contract?" he inquired, sit 
 ting down. 
 
 "Oh, one that'll make me a lieutenant a 
 part of the time and a captain the other part." 
 
 'What for? To drive mules? And that's 
 what I wanted to talk to you about. If you 
 ever want to climb up in the world, you 
 mustn't drive mules. Why, anybody can 
 drive a mule. The blackest nigger in the 
 world can drive a mule; I saw a piece in the 
 paper the other day that said niggers could 
 beat white men drivin' mules. What you 
 want is to git a job somethin' like mine. Do 
 you notice how all the big-bugs around here 
 talk to me? They tell me how they feel and 
 all that sort of thing. They wouldn't talk 
 that way to a mule driver. I need somebody 
 in here to help me somebody to clean up of 
 a mornin', and if you " 
 
 "Shut up." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter with you? Tell a 
 man to shut up in his own house? Why, I 
 could call the town marshal and have you 
 flung into jail for that."
 
 294 "TURK" 
 
 "Let me show you something," said I, 
 cheerful of manner, pretending to pass his 
 insult, and I took out my revolver and held it 
 so that it caught the light that fell over a sort 
 of screen placed in front of the open door. 
 
 "What is it? A revolver? I've got two. I 
 reckon that one was made befo' they know'd 
 how to make 'em as well as they do now. 
 Come in, Cap'n." 
 
 I put up my pistol before the captain saw it, 
 while Nick went back behind the bar. And 
 there was the contract spread out on the table 
 before me, and it was written so plainly that I 
 could almost read it. The captain said that 
 he would read it to me, but I told him that he 
 needn't mind; so he called for pen and ink, 
 and when I had signed it, Nick was asked to 
 put down his name as a witness, an honor 
 which did not appear to strike him over much. 
 After discussing the time of departure and 
 appointing a place to meet, the captain took 
 me to dinner with him, where we sat down to 
 a long table with lawyers and clerks, and I 
 remember that a negro boy, that kept off the 
 few heavy-winged autumn flies by pulling a 
 string attached to a big paper flap overhead,
 
 'AND THERE WAS THE CONTRACT BEFORE ME
 
 A CONTRACT 295 
 
 dropped off into a doze but still kept up his 
 pull at the string. 
 
 Mr. Kirk was waiting for me, and so eager 
 was I that I began at once to tell him of my 
 contract, even as I was climbing into the rig; 
 and I would have shown him my copy of it, 
 but he did not ask to see it, so much was his 
 mind taken up with his own affairs. He had 
 thought out the plan that I should tell the 
 professor, and he gripped my hand more than 
 once as we drove home.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THERE BY THE CHEERFUL FIRE 
 
 E SAW the professor standing in the 
 doorway of the barn, and, getting 
 out in a tremor, Mr. Kirk took a 
 roundabout way to the house. As I 
 drove up to unharness the horses and to put 
 the rig under the shed, the professor came out 
 and inquired as to the captain's business with 
 me, and I told him all, busy meantime with 
 buckles and straps. He replied that it was 
 well, especially as he did not need me during 
 the winter. "You are getting along toward 
 man's estate," said he, "and if, while you are 
 off on this trip, you can find a better place, I 
 should advise you to take it." 1 thanked him, 
 and being now done with the work of un 
 harnessing the horses, I turned them into the 
 barn and was preparing to back the rig under 
 the shed when I saw the professor start off 
 toward the house. I called him, and he halted 
 beneath a scrub-oak tree to wait, where I soon 
 joined him with my mind uneasy. He made 
 
 as if he would walk on, but I asked him to 
 
 296
 
 THERE BY THE CHEERFUL FIRE 297 
 
 wait, as I had business with him. At the word 
 business he smiled, and as if the mention of it 
 made him tired, he leaned with his shoulder 
 against the tree. But I was put to for a way 
 to begin; and when his smile was shut off and 
 with eyes turned inquiringly upon me he said, 
 "Well," I stammered that what I wanted to 
 say would come in a moment. And it did, 
 after a fashion. 
 
 "Er Mr. Kirk is in love with Amy." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "And wants to marry her said he never 
 loved anybody before and would make her 
 happy or die trying." 
 
 "Humph! Why hasn't he spoken to me 
 about it?" 
 
 "I don't know, but I think it's because he's 
 been too busy speaking to her. He's sort of 
 bashful and asked me to tell you and " 
 
 "A book peddler bashful?" 
 
 "Well, but he isn't as much of a book peddler 
 as you think he is." 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" 
 
 "He don't sell books at all, and his name 
 isn't Kirk but Kirkpatrick, and he's the 
 professor that "
 
 298 " TURK " 
 
 I grabbed his arms and, putting them about 
 the tree, held his hands so that he couldn't get 
 away, for, even though runtish, I was stronger 
 than he ever was. He didn't snort as I 
 thought he would, but he muttered some 
 thing like a cast-iron oath, hot from the 
 mould, and commanded me to turn him loose. 
 But I told him no, not until he heard what I 
 had to say, and then his countenance lighted 
 up and he laughed. But I held him until I 
 had said all that I wanted to say told him 
 how good a man Kirkpatrick was, how he 
 loved Amy, and how she loved him; and that 
 if he didn't give his consent, his house would 
 never again be free from tears. 
 
 "Of course what you say has no influence on 
 my decision," said the professor, rubbing his 
 hands together, for I had pressed them hard 
 against the rough bark. "No sensible father 
 could object to so well-appointed a gentleman, 
 and to tell you the truth, I have for some little 
 time suspected the true state of affairs con 
 cerning him. And before seeing him, I was 
 beginning to yield my objections. But wait a 
 moment. All of the joke is not to be on one 
 side. You have served him, now serve me.
 
 THERE BY THE CHEERFUL FIRE 299 
 
 Go to him and tell him that your heart failed 
 you at the last moment and that I am still in 
 ignorance as to who he is." 
 
 I still had a hope that I might be a lawyer, 
 and conceived that to handle one side of a 
 case after having finished with the other 
 belonged to the essentials of the profession. 
 So it was agreed that together we should 
 walk to the house, talking as if nothing had 
 passed between us; we did, and as we 
 approached, Kirkpatrick came out and 
 minced his way toward us, gazing first at the 
 professor and then at me. And then, as he 
 saw no sign, his countenance fell, and he 
 walked with us up the path leading to the 
 door. But I plucked him back, and when the 
 professor was gone on into the house, I 
 begged the lover's pardon for a last moment's 
 lack of courage. "But I will wait till to-night," 
 said I, "and when everybody but just him and 
 me have 
 
 "He and I," the schoolman corrected me, 
 and I said, "Yes, that was undoubtedly right." 
 After a time he agreed that to wait might be 
 well, as it would give the professor an 
 opportunity to sleep upon the proposition.
 
 300 "TURK" 
 
 The air was chill, a cheerful fire was burning, 
 and we sat about the hearth. The professor's 
 manner was gay, and I wondered that one 
 who had taught out of so many heavy books 
 could have so light a mind. Amy looked 
 disappointed, for Kirkpatrick had undoubtedly 
 told her of the plan and she must have seen 
 that nothing had been said. With a blank- 
 book on her knees, Nan was trying to draw 
 a picture, a cow, after she had named it; and 
 Mrs. Emory was plying two red cedar sticks, 
 knitting a pink nubia. 
 
 "Louise," said the professor, "I took down 
 our old Bible to-day, and I find that the print 
 is fading. It hurts my eyes to read it." 
 
 "Mr. Kirk has promised us one," Mrs. 
 Emory replied. I knew that she suspected 
 nothing. 
 
 "Have you got any with alligator binding?" 
 the professor inquired. 
 
 Mr. Kirk said that he didn't know, but that 
 he thought they had all sorts of bindings. 
 
 "How soon do you think you can get it here?" 
 
 "It won't be long now," said Mr. Kirk, 
 moving about in his chair. 
 
 "Ah-hah, hah," coughed the professor. "I
 
 THERE BY THE CHEERFUL FIRE 301 
 
 suppose that all of our neighbors who have 
 bought from you are pleased." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Kirk, and then quickly he 
 added: "Do you think it's going to rain?" 
 
 The professor answered him: "Might, if 
 the wind should shift a little further around 
 to the west. What is the price of your most 
 costly Bible?" 
 
 "Ah, hah, hah," coughed Mr. Kirk. "I don't 
 know exactly. Have much rain here in the 
 winter time?" 
 
 "Rain! I don't know of anything better 
 bound than a calf, but I have known the rain 
 here to wet one through and through." 
 
 "Walter," Mrs. Emory spoke up, "what on 
 earth are you talking about?" 
 
 "Calves bindings. Oh, by the way, Mr. 
 Kirk, I was out on the turnpike to-day and 
 met a Cincinnati Bible-man. I told him about 
 you, and he said that he would make it a 
 point to-night to come over. Smart as a 
 whip asked me what house you were selling 
 for, but I had forgotten." 
 
 "I should like to meet him," gasped Mr. 
 Kirk. And then he broke out, "Oh, isn't this 
 Thursday?"
 
 302 " TURK " 
 
 The professor said that it was Thursday. 
 
 "Great goodness!" exclaimed Mr. Kirk. "I 
 have an appointment this evening to meet a 
 man in Scoville." 
 
 "That so? I'm glad of that," said the pro 
 fessor, "for I am forced to go over there this 
 evening myself. And I am glad that I may 
 have your company to shorten the journey. 
 Where are you to meet this man? At the 
 hotel?" 
 
 "Well, no, at a private house just beyond 
 the town." 
 
 "Out the straight road big white house on 
 the hill?" 
 
 "Yes, I think am quite certain it is the 
 place." 
 
 "Well, do you know I'm glad of that? I've 
 got to call at that very place myself." 
 
 "Oh, no, I'm wrong," cried Mr. Kirk. "It is 
 a house quite a distance beyond that." 
 
 "You don't tell me!" exclaimed the profes 
 sor. "Now, indeed, I am in luck. I have a 
 commission from Hoover, our exiled preacher, 
 to call at all the houses on both sides of the 
 road for six or eight miles. I shall not here 
 speak of the nature of the commission, but as
 
 THERE BY THE CHEERFUL FIRE 303 
 
 we drive along I shall make it known to 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Kirk thanked him for his confidence. 
 Mrs. Emory said that it was the first time she 
 had heard of such a commission; and the pro 
 fessor spoke up, "My dear, and even the dis 
 covery of America was not heard of until it 
 was." 
 
 Kirk was suffering. He took out his hand 
 kerchief and wiped his brow. But the profes 
 sor was not yet done. "My dear," he said to 
 his wife, "I caught old man Zack Beardsley in 
 a lie to-day." 
 
 "Why, Walter, you don't tell me!" 
 
 "Caught him in a lie. You remember, Mr. 
 Kirk, the day you made your welcome appear 
 ance here, you incidentally said that you had 
 sold your last Bible to old Zack. But to-day 
 when I asked him how he liked it, he swore 
 that he had never bought a Bible in his life." 
 
 Kirk jumped out of his chair. "Sir!" he 
 exclaimed, "it were unbecoming in me to sail 
 longer under false colors. I am " 
 
 "Why," shouted the professor, "you talk 
 exactly like Professor Kirkpatrick." 
 
 "I am, sir. And I am here to "
 
 304 " TURK " 
 
 "To give me your hand," broke in the pro 
 fessor, and then ah, the tears of joy shed by 
 the women folk! How everybody talked; and 
 how, at one time, I found myself holding 
 Nan's hand! But for a moment only; she 
 snatched it away, boxed me velvetly with it, 
 and then helped Amy and Mrs. Emory with 
 their weeping. The professor and Kirkpat- 
 rick laughed as they gripped each other, and 
 after a time we all of us were silent, as Amy 
 stood behind Kirk's chair, with her arms about 
 his neck. The professor took down his old 
 Bible, smiling as he did so, and read about 
 Ruth. It was a happy time there by the 
 cheerful fire.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A POT HUNTER 
 
 HERE had been so many tears of 
 distress followed by so many tears 
 of happiness that I thought Amy 
 must surely be married on the fol 
 lowing day, but the next morning I found that 
 the wedding had been set about two months 
 from that time. Nan must have been some 
 what of my mind, for she marveled that so 
 distant a day should be fixed upon. "What!" 
 cried Mrs. Emory, "do you suppose we are in 
 such a hurry to get rid of her?" 
 
 After many of the details had been settled, 
 and especially when all of the prospects of 
 Kirkpatrick had been made known, such as 
 his ownership of a piece of land and the fact 
 that his well-provisioned old grandmother 
 looked upon him with a kindly eye, he took 
 his leave, as happy a man as I ever saw. When 
 we all of us had bidden him good-bye at the 
 gate, the professor turned somewhat severely 
 
 upon me. 
 
 305
 
 306 ' TURK " 
 
 "Turk," said he, "let me say to you for your 
 own good that unless you give over your 
 deceitful ways, you are in the future to have 
 no end of trouble. Regardless of the fact 
 that I have ever been so kind to you, paying 
 you eight dollars a month, when in reality 
 you were by law bound to me, you for more 
 than a week go about with a secret which is 
 embarrassing to my character and prejudicial 
 to me as a man in general. You ought to 
 have told me at first that this man a gentle 
 man, I am sure was none other than Kirk- 
 patrick, the professor and the clandestine lover 
 of my daughter." 
 
 Mrs. Emory, with bowed head and I think 
 with tears, was slowly walking toward the 
 house, but she turned back and faced the pro 
 fessor. "And," said she, "if Turk had done 
 that, our troubles would just have begun, 
 whereas now they are over." 
 
 "My dear," replied the professor, taking her 
 arm, "you don't quite grasp the " 
 
 "I grasp everything there is to grasp," she 
 broke in, and at the moment she looked as if 
 she really did, appearing more determined 
 than I had ever seen her. We went into the
 
 A POT HUNTER 307 
 
 house, and for a time I sat about, waiting for 
 the professor to put me to some sort of work, 
 but as he did not, I went out, rather stealthily 
 too, I'm afraid, and went over to see my old 
 friend Champ Jones. I found him in a bad 
 way, down with rheumatism, with no one to 
 do him a service. He was lying propped up 
 in bed, and a light shone forth from his eye as 
 I entered the door. "Never was gladder to 
 see a man in my life," he called out; and the 
 fact that he said man pleased me, and fearing 
 that he might discover his mistake and cor 
 rect himself to "boy, rather," I hastily caught 
 up his pail and went to the spring. 
 
 "Water was exactly what I wanted," he said 
 when I returned. "Just take that big tin cup 
 there and give me about a gallon at a snort. 
 I crawled down to the spring last night and 
 drank like an alligator, but found myself too 
 weak this morning to go back. God bless you 
 for coming." 
 
 He told me that he was sure that his afflic 
 tion was caused by the prison lime in his 
 bones. I smiled at the notion, but it was with 
 him a serious conviction; and in my limited 
 experience of prisons, lime, and rheumatism,
 
 308 " TURK " 
 
 I did not feel that I was well enough equipped 
 to argue with him. After a time I spoke of 
 cooking something for him to eat; and he 
 thanked me, but said that there was nothing 
 in the house but some corn meal and coffee, 
 but that, if I didn't mind, I could take the gun 
 and hunt for a dish of something in the 
 woods. If I didn't mind! Could he in any 
 other way have conferred upon me so great a 
 delight? I took the gun not the big one, for 
 that was more in the nature of artillery and 
 went out, tiptoeing even before crossing the 
 road, so careful was I not to scare the game. 
 In that part of the country there was an 
 abundance of quail, and squirrels were plenti 
 ful; but neither a feathered nor a hairy object 
 could I see. The situation became desperate, 
 as in my imagination I had pictured it a case 
 of success or starvation; but the squirrels 
 were in their holes, and the birds were gone. 
 In a cedar tree, green in the midst of a brown 
 thicket, I spied something that thrilled me, a 
 big bird, and tremblingly I aimed at him and 
 down he came, with a great flapping of wings, 
 an owl; but I gathered him up and set off 
 toward Champ's house, picking the horned
 
 A POT HUNTER 309 
 
 hooter as I went, knowing that there had 
 come a time when the keenest of deceptions 
 must be practiced. At last I had him picked, 
 and at a rivulet near the house I drew him of 
 his powerful machinery for grinding up field 
 mice, and triumphantly bore him into the 
 room. Champ asked me what I had, and 
 believing that a man with rheumatism could 
 not have a very discriminating taste, I 
 answered that I had been so fortunate as to 
 shoot a pheasant. 
 
 ''Good!" cried the sick man. "I couldn't 
 ask for anything better. They are getting 
 scarce around here, and you were in luck. 
 How are you going to cook him?" 
 
 I remembered having heard some one say, 
 "drunk as a boiled owl," and of course, not 
 knowing why a boiled owl should be drunk 
 and questioning the fact that he was drunk, I 
 yet knew that behind all idle expressions 
 there must lie some cause, that at some time 
 in the past an owl must have been boiled; so 
 I decided to boil him first and then to fry him. 
 Champ demurred to the first part. He said 
 that pheasants were usually tender, and that 
 frying would be enough. But I told him that
 
 310 " TURK " 
 
 he didn't know what an obstinate pneasant 
 this one was, and that many of his feathers 
 were set in the wrong way, and that he 
 seemed to be the only survivor of a feud. 
 This amused the old man, and he let me have 
 my way. I built up a hot fire, with the shell- 
 bark of a hickory tree, and soon the owl was 
 dancing in the pot. 
 
 "Look here," said Champ, "that smells more 
 like a boiled rat than a pheasant. Don't 
 believe that boiling is quite agreeable to his 
 nature. Better try frying a while." 
 
 I told him that I would, pretty soon, know 
 ing that he had not yet been boiled enough to 
 be anything like tender; and I then engaged 
 myself in telling of the outcome over at the 
 professor's. The old man laughed till the 
 rheumatism, a most jealous master, I have 
 always been led to believe, racked him with 
 pain. I went to him and rubbed his legs, and 
 it helped him, for after a while he ceased to 
 groan. It was now time to fry the bird, and 
 after pretty hard work with a sharp knife I 
 cut him up and, covering the pieces with flour, 
 put them into a skillet. When he was brown 
 in his feathers in the tree, he was a most
 
 A POT HUNTER 311 
 
 formidable looking thing; but now that he 
 was brown in the skillet, there didn't appear 
 to be much to him. "But there is enough," I 
 smiled to myself, as I put his breast on a tin 
 plate. Intent upon the owl, it is but natural 
 that I should have forgotten to mention that 
 I had baked a hoe-cake and made a pot of 
 coffee. My patient's eyes showed that he 
 was hungry, and his square jaws indicated 
 that he was determined, qualities both of 
 which I felt to be on this occasion not only 
 valuable but essential. With a sharp knife he 
 cut off a piece of the owl, and I turned my face 
 away as he began to chew it, for it made a 
 noise as if he had taken a piece of rubber 
 between his teeth. But he ate it all result of 
 the square jaws and, shaking his head as I 
 took away the plate, he remarked, "Lorenzo, 
 I reckon you know for what two virtues your 
 illustrious namesake, Lorenzo Dow, was 
 mostly celebrated." 
 
 "I don't know that I do," I answered, put 
 ting the plate and the cup on a table that 
 looked as if it, too, might have rheumatism in 
 its legs. 
 
 "Well, we'll skip one, which was physical
 
 312 "TURK" 
 
 bravery, and come at once to the other, which 
 was telling the truth under all circumstances. 
 Do you understand?" 
 
 "I think I do, sir." 
 
 "Ah, and thinking you do, are you willing 
 to stand there and tell me that the thing you 
 shot was a pheasant? Are you?" 
 
 "Well, I'm not much acquainted with 
 pheasants. I 
 
 "That may be true enough. But how about 
 chicken hawks and buzzards and owls?" 
 
 "Buzzards, did you say?" 
 
 "Yes and here, for the Lord's 'sake don't 
 tell me that I have eaten a piece of a buzzard. 
 Tell me anything else, but clear me of that. 
 What was it?" 
 
 "Well, you know, sir, I couldn't find any 
 thing to shoot, and I didn't want to come back 
 with nothing, because I knew you were hun 
 gry was ashamed to come back so I 
 shot " 
 
 "Lord a massy! Not a buzzard?" 
 
 "An owl, sir." 
 
 He lay back with a deep breath of relief, 
 and I went at him again and rubbed his legs. 
 Pretty soon he began to laugh. "It's all right,
 
 A POT HUNTER 313 
 
 my son, just so you don't feed me on buz 
 zards." 
 
 I was so stricken with remorse and shame, 
 that I offered to eat the rest of the owl; and 
 I would have done it, but he said, "You are at 
 liberty to help yourself to anything in my 
 house, and particularly to owl, but you needn't 
 eat it. I've played such jokes many a time." 
 
 But I would not view it in the light of a 
 joke, for by this time I regarded it as a crime. 
 What had my experience, my seeing "the 
 world" availed me? I was still without a 
 sense of judgment, ready to do a thing that 
 any fool might see would call for repentance. 
 But old Champ declared that it was good for 
 him, in that it had given him something new 
 to think about; and when I rubbed his legs 
 harder and harder, he rewarded me by declar 
 ing that I had saved his life. 
 
 "I had forgotten that old wild-hog ham 
 hanging up there from the rafters," said he, 
 looking aloft. "It has been there five years 
 at least, getting better all the time; and if you 
 have a mind to, you might get it down and 
 broil a few slices." This opened the way for 
 practical atonement; and after getting the
 
 314 "TURK" 
 
 ham down, at the risk of breaking my neck, I 
 broiled for him a goodly slice and was bring 
 ing it to him when there came a knock at the 
 door. The sick man called out, "Come in," 
 and the professor entered. He was not sur 
 prised to see me there, and did not look upon 
 me unkindly, as formerly he had been wont to 
 do whenever he met me by accident. He was 
 sorry, he said, to see his staunch old adversary 
 laid up. 
 
 "Have a seat there and don't let my being 
 laid up worry you," replied old Champ. "I 
 am still a match for you on any point of 
 faith." This was enough, and at it they went, 
 tugging over the same old ground; and when 
 they appeared to be at their warmest, that is 
 to say, just short of blows, Champ broke off: 
 "You are a stout soldier, sir, but the stoutest 
 of soldiers needs rations. Here, Turk, bring 
 the remains of that pheasant." I might have 
 hesitated and with a look might have 
 entreated him to spare the professor and me. 
 I say "might have," but I didn't. In my usual 
 state of heedlessness, I brought the tin plate 
 of owl to the professor, and I saw him worry 
 ing with a wing, a veritable Barlow knife, half
 
 A POT HUNTER 315 
 
 open, floured and fried. This he lost some 
 where during the excitement of his talk and 
 got hold of a leg, and with this he worried a 
 long time, but suddenly he clapped his hand 
 to his mouth. 
 
 With a great effort Champ turned over, 
 face to the wall, and when I saw him shaking, 
 I sprang at him and vigorously began to rub 
 his legs. 
 
 "Jones, what the devil is this you've given 
 me to eat?" 
 
 "P-p-pheasant," Champ spluttered. 
 
 "Pheasant," grunted the professor; "bone 
 wrapped with tarred rope." 
 
 At this old Jones yelled. The professor 
 threw down the tin plate and stood looking 
 upon him. "This may be a joke, sir, but I 
 wish to tell you that I don't like it." 
 
 If he did not like it from Jones, how would 
 he take it from me? What would he do when 
 it should be made known to him that I was 
 the cause of it all? Jones turned his face 
 from the wall, and lying on his back muttered, 
 "Owl." "Owl!" gasped the professor between 
 a groan and a retch. 
 
 "Sit down, and we'll finish our argument,"
 
 316 "TURK" 
 
 said old Champ. This was an inducement, 
 and the professor sat down. "Let me tell you 
 something," Jones went on. "The other day 
 a sort of wise man came over to see me, and 
 during his stay we just naturally dropped into 
 a dispute over certain things pertaining to 
 religion and the soul of man. After we had 
 threshed about all the mouldy straw on 
 hand and we had a good deal of it this 
 wise man, becoming wiser, said, said he, 'Jones, 
 anybody that would arguy on religion would 
 eat an owl.' Of course I hooted at this 
 idea " 
 
 ''Hooted, having the owl in mind," broke in 
 the professor. 
 
 "Exactly so, sir," agreed old Champ. 
 "Well, as I say, I hooted at the idea; and 
 then, as there was no way to settle it, we 
 branched off into something else. I had for 
 gotten all about it, even the visit of the wise 
 man, when just now here he came again. 
 'Jones,' said he, 'I heard you were sick, so 1 
 have come over to bring you a pheasant that I 
 killed this morning.' And, sir, even before 
 I had got through thanking him, he had 
 begun to fry the bird. As usual, we opened
 
 A POT HUNTER 317 
 
 with our religious spat, and the first thing I 
 knew I was eating what you spoke of just 
 now as bone and tarred rope. Then he cried 
 out, 'What did I tell you a religious contro- 
 verser would eat?' 'Owl,' I acknowledged, 
 feeling a twist at the stomach. 'Ah, hah,' said 
 he, 'and that's exactly what you have done. 
 Good-day,' and with that he marched out, 
 leaving me to speculate upon the great 
 amount of truth there is in this old world." 
 
 The professor lay back with a laugh, and I 
 knew that Champ had saved me. After this 
 there was a talk on abolition and the war, 
 which everybody ought to see was coming, 
 but which very few did see; and then the pro 
 fessor took his leave, retching a little as he 
 caught sight of the tin plate. I followed him 
 outside and told him that, as there was noth 
 ing for me to do over at the house, I would 
 remain and take care of Jones until he should 
 be so far recovered as to help himself. "Ah," 
 said the professor, looking at me, "a very 
 commendable notion, I assure you." I 
 thanked him, and he went away. 
 
 When I told Champ that it was my deter 
 mination to stay and to take care of him, his
 
 318 " TURK " 
 
 eyes looked moist, but immediately afterward 
 he began to laugh at the professor and the 
 owl. Following his directions, I found several 
 old newspapers in a box as black as a coffin, 
 and as well as I could I read to him, and was 
 startled to find the world on the very brink of 
 eternal destruction, but noticing that the 
 papers were dated back several years, soon 
 found myself not without some little vestige 
 of hope. While I was reading, who should 
 come but Nan? She had been sent by her 
 mother with jellies and preserves, cakes and 
 pickles, marmalade and catsup, quite enough 
 to have given gout and rheumatism to any 
 woodcutter whose ax we could hear ringing 
 in the distant wood. The old man thanked 
 her, more with his eyes than with his words; 
 and then he told her a story about a bear 
 that, one cold winter's night, forgot all fear 
 and came and stood with his back against the 
 house to warm himself. 
 
 "I hope you didn't kill him," said Nan. 
 
 "No, indeed. I was so much pleased that I 
 invited him in, and if he had come, I should 
 have given him my best bed; but about that 
 time he was taken with a lonesome feeling
 
 A POT HUNTER 319 
 
 and went on back to his home, wherever it 
 was; and so many years have passed since 
 then that I reckon he's dead long ago." 
 
 There was nothing in the story to interest 
 Nan. She wasn't a child. She wanted to 
 hear about human affairs, and she asked him 
 why he had never married. "Oh, that is a 
 painful subject," he said, just to see, I thought, 
 what effect it would have on her; and she 
 brightened and said, "Then tell me about it." 
 Then he told her that once he was engaged 
 to marry the handsomest girl in the neighbor 
 hood all girls engaged to be married were 
 the handsomest and as the time for the wed 
 ding drew near, a great discovery was made 
 on the part of the girl, and that broke off the 
 match." 
 
 "What was the discovery?" Nan eagerly 
 inquired. 
 
 "Why, some one told her it had been found 
 out that I was the ugliest man in the county. 
 This set her on her guard, and when I came 
 again, she gave me a good look and found out 
 that the report was true and it almost broke 
 her heart. She couldn't marry me after 
 having been so cruelly deceived; for you see I
 
 320 " TURK " 
 
 had assured her upon the word of a gentle 
 man that I was handsome." Here Nan, who 
 stood swinging her bonnet by the strings, 
 playfully struck him with it and ran out of the 
 house. I followed and asked her if she would 
 not let me bear her company home, but she 
 turned about and made a mouth at me. 
 "When did you become my beau?" 
 
 "I never have, but I wouldn't mind being." 
 
 "Well, you never will. As soon as Amy 
 marries and goes back to the college, she is 
 going to send me a professor, and I'm going 
 to marry him. She says that they are as 
 plentiful over there as yearling calves are 
 over here." 
 
 "And they are as poor as Job's turkey," 
 said I. 
 
 "Oh, but what difference does that make? 
 They can talk nice and they have pretty white 
 hands. I wouldn't marry a man with hard 
 hands. Good-bye." 
 
 "Wait a moment, Nan. You 
 
 ."I'm old enough now to be called Miss Nan 
 by you." 
 
 "Miss Nan, you know I'm going away, and 
 you may never see me again."
 
 A POT HUNTER 321 
 
 "Do you promise me that?" 
 
 "How can you have so little heart?" 
 
 "Little heart as what? I don't know what 
 
 you mean, I'm sure. Well, I don't suppose 
 
 you'll be over at the house again before you 
 
 go, so good-bye." 
 
 She went away singing, and swinging her 
 
 bonnet by the strings.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 TWO REFORMERS 
 
 AY and night, until a day or so 
 before my departure south with 
 Captain Starks, I attended upon 
 old Champ, and before leaving him 
 I had the satisfaction to see that he was 
 almost as well as ever. Soon came the day 
 for my leave-taking. I speak of it as if it 
 were a ceremony. It was not. The professor 
 shook hands with me as if it were a sort of 
 welcomed return, Mrs. Emory gave me a ten 
 der word and a soft touch, and then while the 
 captain was waiting with my horse at the gate, 
 I turned to look for Nan. I found her behind 
 the house, this time pretending to play with a 
 dog, for there was no dog there; she was pop 
 ping her fingers at nothing and was talking to 
 the air. 
 
 "I have come to tell you good-bye." 
 "Oh, have you? Good-bye." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 322
 
 TWO REFORMERS 323 
 
 "All? All of what?" 
 
 "Nan, don't let us separate this way." 
 
 "This way? How?" 
 
 "Oh, you know. If you like me, and are 
 mad at yourself for doing it, tell me so. You 
 know, all along I tried to like Amy better 
 than I did you, but I couldn't, and 
 
 "Have you told her good-bye?" 
 
 "Early this morning before she drove away 
 in the pony cart. Tried always to like her 
 better than you, for she was kind to me when 
 it seemed that I hadn't a friend in. the world, 
 when your father was harsh with me and your 
 mother was almost afraid to speak a word in 
 my favor. But I couldn't. You stung me, but 
 I kept on coming around so you could 
 sting me; you called me all sorts of mean 
 names, but whenever you spoke, it was music; 
 it wasn't a flute, but a sort of a fife, making 
 my blood leap. It was a sort of feud call. 
 It " 
 
 "What are you talking about?" she broke 
 in, and she had her bonnet on and was pulling 
 at the strings. And before I could say 
 .another word, she was changed both in atti 
 tude and in expression of countenance. She
 
 324 " TURK '.' 
 
 leaped away from me and looked at me, and 
 for a moment I felt that never before had I 
 been so thoroughly hated. She repeated, 
 "Like you and mad at myself for doing it! 
 Oh, Turk, I hope I'm not that big a fool." 
 For a moment she had softened, but in the 
 softening there was contemptuous pity, 
 harder to bear than her hate; and I turned 
 away from her. At the corner of the house I 
 looked back, but she was not looking after 
 me, and so I left her. 
 
 This time Captain Starks' drove was much 
 reduced from the size of the former one, nor 
 had he employed more than a third as many 
 men, but he said that during the excursions 
 which he expected to make we should pick up 
 many a brute before reaching New Orleans. 
 The expedition was dull in the day, for I had 
 passed over the same ground on the previous 
 trip; and, as before, it was without incident at 
 night. We had got pretty well down into 
 Tennessee when the Captain, saying that it 
 was now time for his first little excursion, com 
 manded me to take charge of the camp and to 
 await his return, took one man with him and 
 departed. Along toward evening we had
 
 TWO REFORMERS 325 
 
 halted here about noon we heard from some 
 of the farmers who lived near that two men 
 had recently come into that neighborhood 
 and were making a great stir for the temper 
 ance cause. Al Chamberlain, my lieutenant, 
 and I decided that we would go to hear them. 
 Not frequently, but occasionally, my old 
 hill-top thirst came back to torture me, and I 
 was on the lookout for every temperance 
 argument that might chance to lie in my way. 
 The meeting was held in an old log school- 
 house, at early candle lighting, and on the 
 way to the place Al and I dropped in with a 
 Justice of the peace who had several times 
 heard these remarkable men. "And they are 
 remarkable," said he as we walked along with 
 him. "Without any education they get up 
 and talk about the drinking evil, largely from 
 experience, you understand, until any one 
 must come away convinced." 
 
 "Convinced as every one must be before 
 going," said Al. 
 
 "Yes, that's true," replied the Justice of the 
 peace, "but somehow these men have a strong 
 way of putting things." 
 
 As we drew near, a hymn arose. The
 
 326 " TURK " 
 
 house was but poorly lighted with tallow 
 candles; but when the two men came out 
 upon the platform, Al caught hold of me, cry 
 ing, "Sit down. What's the matter with 
 you?" The lecturers were known as Jackson 
 and Johnson, and such may have been their 
 names, but by me they were remembered as 
 Mose and Tab. Without restraint I suppose 
 that I would have rushed upon the platform, 
 but Al had a cooling influence as well as a 
 physical force. Nothing, however, could drive 
 from my soul that long-harbored thirst for 
 revenge; and while the scoundrels were talk 
 ing, first one and then the other, I told Al, 
 softly whispering, of my claim upon them and 
 outlined my plan. He was quietly to go out, 
 return to the camp, tell the boys, go down 
 into the woods, make a fire near a log, and 
 then come back to me. I was his "superior 
 officer," but mere suggestion was all the com 
 mand necessary, and more than willingly he 
 went out, and I sat there, endeavoring to 
 listen to them, but all I could hear were my 
 own smothered cries as I lay across a log with 
 my mouth in the dirt. But I heard enough to 
 know that in them there had been no repent-
 
 TWO REFORMERS 327 
 
 ance, that they were the same scoundrels as 
 ever. Soon a hat was passed around, and 
 money was contributed. Isn't it singular that, 
 no matter how brutal a man may appear, 
 there is always a hearing waiting for him? 
 A hearing among gentle folk, and money for 
 him, too, if only he tells of his many debase 
 ments. Gazing at the scoundrels, lost in the 
 sweet hugging unto myself of long deferred 
 revenge, I did not observe the return of 
 Chamberlain. He touched me and I jumped. 
 "Everything's all right, and the boys are out 
 there, tickled to death," he whispered. 
 "Found a log and a brush pile in the right 
 place, just far enough off in the woods." I 
 pressed his hand in my gratitude, and swore 
 under my breath that never before had I 
 found so true a friend. Mose called for the 
 singing of a hymn, done mainly by poor 
 women who had drunken husbands, and then 
 the congregation was dismissed. The two 
 lecturers were quartered in a negro cabin not 
 far away, and giving them time to get well 
 into their house and to settle themselves, we 
 followed along, six of us, speaking not a word. 
 Light streamed through the chinks of the log
 
 328 " TURK " 
 
 wall, and peeping in we saw Mose and Tab 
 counting their money. 
 
 "They have begun to weaken a little," said 
 Mose. 
 
 "Yes," Tab replied, "but we was putty 
 strong at first and in the nature of things 
 couldn't expect it to keep up. Reckon they'll 
 stand three or four more milkin's." 
 
 I stepped back into the dark, and Al 
 knocked at the door. There was a hasty 
 shuffling within as if they were putting away 
 their money, and then Tab opened the door. 
 
 "Brothers, won't you come in?" he said. 
 And the brothers began to file in, I the last. 
 
 "Brothers," said Al, "hold out your hands. 
 Here, Pete, you and Sam with your rope." I 
 said never a word, but stood near the door 
 with my hat pulled down over my face. 
 There was no attempt at resistance, not even 
 an apparent objection, for meekly they held 
 forth their hands and were tied. "Don't be 
 any more scared than you can help," said Al. 
 "You may deserve it, but we're not going to 
 hang you. We are going to give you a little 
 reminder of things that sometimes happen up 
 in Kentucky. Fall in."
 
 TWO REFORMERS 329 
 
 I saw a light, the brush pile on fire, and led 
 the way, as yet not having given my old 
 associates an opportunity to recognize me. 
 Though some distance in advance, I could 
 hear their mumbled inquiries as to what we 
 intended to do with them, and I heard Mose 
 declare that he was willing to give over all the 
 money that had been collected; I remember 
 also laughing to myself at Al's reply: "Broth 
 ers, you must not think that money is every 
 thing. Comes near it, I admit, but it's not 
 quite all. Come over this way a little more. 
 There's a thorn bush along here somewhere, 
 and you might scratch yourselves. Might 
 pull off some of your lamb's wool." 
 
 Reaching the fire, I stood with my back 
 turned toward them. I heard them muttering 
 objections. "What do you want to take our 
 coats off for, gentlemen? Don't cut 'em off. 
 Untie our hands. We won't try to git away." 
 
 "Won't you? Gentle lambs, ain't you?" 
 Their hands were untied, they were stripped 
 to the waist, and then they were tied again. 
 "Now, brothers," said Al, "you will please 
 stand still while we put a few coils of rope 
 around your ankles."
 
 330 " TURK " 
 
 Over in an old field not far off I had noticed 
 a pear tree, and toward it I went with my 
 heart laughing, to gather my weapons, sprouts 
 almost as tough as rawhide. I soon returned 
 with six or eight of them nicely trimmed. 
 Then it was that I stood before them, and I 
 saw them quail beneath my eye. They knew 
 me. I had grown, and I had changed; but 
 fear has a keen discernment, and the scoun 
 drels trembled. Mose began to beg. 
 
 "That was a long time ago," he whined, 
 "and you ought to have forgot it by this time. 
 I didn't think you could have so hard a 
 heart. Why, Mr. Turk, them sprouts you've 
 got there will cut a man all to flinders. Don't 
 you think you can find it in yo' heart to for 
 give us?" 
 
 I didn't make any theatric speech. I simply 
 said to Al and the rest, Tut 'em across the 
 log, boys." Al suggested that they ought to 
 be gagged, and this was done. There was a 
 moon, I remember. The creek, not far away, 
 was singing a low song. And I halted for a 
 moment, while rolling up my sleeves, to see 
 if, indeed, I could find pity in my heart. But 
 I couldn't. Somehow my revenge didn't
 
 TWO REFORMERS 331 
 
 seem to be so personal; I felt that these men 
 had disgraced the memory of my father by 
 whipping his son, and that the spirits of all 
 the Griffins were looking at me. They must 
 have been happy. I took Mose first. How 
 he bit his gag and groaned! I smelled his 
 hot blood. Al touched me on the arm. "You 
 have given him enough," he said. And then 
 I took Tab. "He has fainted," said one of 
 the boys, and I left off. We helped them to 
 put their clothes on and then turned away. 
 In the night I awoke with the smell of hot 
 blood in my nostrils, and I turned sick. We 
 were sleeping in the open, and I got up and 
 stirred the fire. I heard the murmur of the 
 creek and saw the moon going down in a dis 
 tant wood. What was that something, not 
 warm but sickening, against my heart? 
 Repentance? What is mercy but a cheating 
 of justice? But is not the world better, 
 brighter, and is not man nobler when some 
 times justice has been cheated? 
 
 Al looked up from his blanket. "What's 
 the matter? Can't you sleep?" 
 
 "Yes, but I wish that fellow hadn't fainted." 
 "Hope you haven't turned sorry."
 
 332 " TURK " 
 
 "Hope you'll not be sorry, Al, for the part 
 you took." 
 
 "Not me," he replied. "When such punish 
 ment is deserved, I like to be where it's going 
 on." 
 
 He turned over and went to sleep, and I 
 I went down into the woods, to the cabin 
 where the lecturers had lived, but they were 
 gone.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A POOR BOY'S WALLET 
 
 LONG about ten o'clock the next 
 day it was found that not only were 
 Mose and Tab gone, but with them 
 had disappeared the sum of two 
 hundred and fifty dollars, contributed by the 
 citizens toward the building of a Sons' of 
 Temperance Lodge. Though at the time 
 there was scarcely any stir, yet the news of 
 the whipping had got abroad, and when it 
 was known that the sufferers were also 
 thieves, men came up to congratulate me. 
 But it was an honor that I did not relish, for 
 that hot smell was still sickening to my nos 
 trils; and I remembered what old Champ had 
 said about the memory of the nose. 
 
 It was near noon when Captain Starks 
 returned from his excursion out into the 
 remote country; and when he came, I was 
 shocked to see him bring five negroes, two 
 women and three men, chained together. I 
 asked him what he was going to do with 
 
 333
 
 334 "TURK" 
 
 them, and he answered, "Going to take them 
 South." 
 
 "But I am employed to drive mules and not 
 negroes," I replied. 
 
 "You are employed to drive whatever I 
 desire you to drive." 
 
 "My contract says mules." 
 
 "Your contract says, 'to drive or transport 
 any and all sorts of property.' " 
 
 I took out the paper, which, as I now 
 recalled, I had not read when I signed it, and 
 there, sure enough, was the clause just quoted 
 by the captain. "Does that satisfy you?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "No, it doesn't. I'm not a negro driver, 
 and no contract on the earth can compel me 
 to be," and with that I tore the paper into bits 
 and scattered them about on the ground. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" the captain 
 asked, scowling at me. 
 
 "I'm going to quit." 
 
 "Ah, I understand that whipping is rather 
 fashionable around here." 
 
 "Yes, for those that deserve it." 
 
 "And doesn't a man deserve it when he 
 breaks his contract?"
 
 A POOR BOY'S WALLET 335 
 
 "Captain," said I, "we have been friends, 
 and you have been kind to me. Once you 
 gave me a revolver, and " 
 
 "And you would shoot me with it." 
 "Rather than to let you whip me? Yes." 
 He walked away as if he were studying 
 about something, which indeed he was; and 
 coming back he said to me, "If you quit me 
 here, you quit without a cent of pay." 
 "Yes, I know that expected it." 
 He turned away again, and I started off 
 down the road toward Nashville. Al called 
 after me to tell me good-bye. I halted, and 
 he came up, saying as he approached, "I think 
 you're foolish, Turk. These niggers are 
 going South, whether you help take them or 
 not." 
 
 "Yes, that's true enough, but " 
 
 "Come on back and go with us. We'll have 
 lots of fun in New Orleans." 
 
 "No; good-bye," and I left him there in the 
 road, and looking back I saw him saddling his 
 horse. The "command," as we termed it, 
 passed me before I was far on my journey; 
 and though the rest of them spoke, the cap 
 tain did not take notice of me. I had eaten
 
 336 " TURK " 
 
 nothing since early morning, and along 
 toward night I halted at the gate of a house 
 where there was a great barking of dogs. 
 When a man came out, I asked him for sup 
 per and for lodging. After a few questions 
 he invited me into the handsomest room I 
 had ever seen, where there was a cheerful fire 
 and a young woman picking at a piano. I 
 wished that she would play, but was afraid to 
 ask her. After supper, however, I was bolder 
 and asked her, and she smiled and said that 
 she had left all of her music at school. I 
 didn't know what she meant by it. How any 
 one could leave a tune at school was rather 
 perplexing to me, and I wondered if they shut 
 it up in a room, taking care lest it escape 
 through the window. But after a while she 
 played; strange pieces they were, and at times 
 running so heavy down at one end of the 
 piano and then up so light at the other end 
 that I didn't like them over much. 
 
 The resident and his wife were kind to me, 
 and I was put to sleep in a bright room, where 
 there was a fire and a bed that I was almost 
 ashamed to disturb. Such treatment to a 
 tramp was unusual, I knew, and I wondered
 
 A POOR BOY'S WALLET 337 
 
 at it. I had a few dollars, three, I think, and 
 next morning I offered to pay the man, but 
 he shook his head. When I had thanked him 
 and taken up my wallet, he followed me out 
 upon the turnpike. "I just wanted to say a 
 word," said he. "Not long before you came 
 last night, a man with a drove of mules, in 
 passing, took occasion to tell me that there 
 would soon be a foot traveler along the road, 
 and that doubtless he would want food and a 
 bed. 'But drive him off,' said he. 'Have 
 nothing to do with him, for he has violated 
 his contract and has refused to help me take 
 these negroes South.' I honored you for it, 
 young man. Just now you offered to pay me. 
 But don't you need money?" 
 
 I was deeply affected, and all I could do 
 was to thank him, refuse his money, and 
 hasten away. Soon arriving in the city, I 
 began to look about for something to do; and 
 along in the afternoon, being pinched with 
 hunger, I went into a snack house, as I 
 thought, but upon entering I found that it was 
 a place of some pretension and therefore 
 beyond my means; but ashamed to withdraw, 
 I sat down and for the first time in life was
 
 338 " TURK " 
 
 presented with a bill of fare. At a table 
 further toward the rear of the long room, sev 
 eral youths were eating and drinking, and I 
 fancied that they were laughing at me, but I 
 paid no attention to them. I ordered bacon 
 and eggs; and while I was waiting, the youths 
 came along, and although my wallet was not 
 in their way, one of them gave it a kick, and 
 the next moment I was at his collar. I beat 
 him in the face, and I saw his blood come in a 
 sort of flash, and there was a great outcry and 
 an overturning of chairs. At one time it 
 seemed to me in my blind fury that at least 
 three of the party were dancing about me, 
 clawing and striving to hit me, and then I saw 
 the gleam of a dirk. I clapped my hand on 
 my pistol, but was seized from behind by 
 police officers, disarmed and hurried to prison 
 without having had an opportunity to taste of 
 my bacon and eggs. 
 
 I was locked in an ill-smelling dungeon, and 
 on the following morning was brought before 
 a magistrate. My enemies appeared against 
 me and told a marvelous tale of desperate 
 assault upon them, but the keeper of the 
 snack house and one of his waiters came for-
 
 A POOR BOY'S WALLET 339 
 
 ward with the truth. The magistrate was a 
 kind-hearted old gentleman; and as I looked 
 at him, I fancied that he, too, had come to 
 that town a poor and friendless boy. 
 
 Turning to my enemies and speaking par 
 ticularly to the aggressor, he said, "I am going 
 to turn this young man loose, and you and 
 your friends must pay the cost. Hereafter, 
 don't make it a point to insult a poor boy by 
 going out of your way to kick his wallet." 
 He told me to remain, and when the others 
 were gone, having paid the costs, the magis 
 trate handed over my pistol and said to me, 
 "This is a bad world we have broken into, my 
 son, and we must try to make the best of it." 
 He then asked me many questions concerning 
 myself, which I answered in a straightforward 
 manner, and when I came down to the break 
 ing of my contract with the captain, he shook 
 his head. "You ought not to have done 
 that still I don't blame you." He offered 
 me money, but I wouldn't take it; and then 
 he offered his kindly hand, which I took and 
 shook in hearty gratitude. 
 
 Upon going out of the court-room, I went 
 straightway to the snack house and raised a
 
 340 " TURK " 
 
 laugh by saying that I had come back for my 
 bacon and eggs. 
 
 The proprietor ordered a dish set before 
 me, and when I had eaten, he refused to 
 charge me anything, saying that I had shown 
 fine mettle in fighting those reprobates. "I 
 hope they'll keep out of here," said he, "for 
 they drive away custom." I asked him for 
 work, and he said that he could give me a job 
 at waiting on table, but I thanked him and 
 declined. I told him that I was willing to do 
 man's work, but I'd starve rather than to be 
 man's servant. From the restaurant I went 
 down to the steamboat landing, where there 
 was much life, the singing of deck hands, and 
 the loud swearing of the mates. I selected 
 one boat, the Blanche Lewis, and going on 
 board asked the captain, a jolly, kindly man, 
 if he didn't want to hire me. He looked at 
 me and laughed, but so good-humoredly that 
 I laughed, too; and then he said, "You don't 
 appear strong enough for a deck hand, and, 
 besides, we'd rather have negroes. They 
 digest the mate's cursing better than white 
 men do. Who peeled you up there on the 
 side of the head?"
 
 A POOR BOY'S WALLET 341 
 
 I told him about my fight, and he roared, 
 and cried out to some one, the pilot, I believe, 
 "Oh, Bob, here's the chap that thrashed the 
 Kirkman boys." 
 
 "Bob," a trim little man, came forward to 
 look at me and, after asking me where I was 
 from, inquired if I thought that I could dis 
 charge the duties of second mate. I leaped 
 at the idea. 
 
 "I was thinking of that," said the captain. 
 "How's your stock of oaths?" he inquired and 
 laughed. 
 
 I told him that circumstances had com 
 pelled me to be apt in that line, and that I 
 regarded my stock as above the ordinary, for 
 which he clapped me on the shoulder and told 
 me that I might go to work. "Look here," he 
 said before dismissing me, "my name is John 
 Bateman, and everybody will tell you I'm the 
 easiest man in the world to please as long as 
 a fellow acts right; but when he doesn't, why, 
 I simply wrench off a bell and throw it at his 
 head. Go out there now and boss the niggers." 
 
 The work was not hard, and I enjoyed my 
 authority as "mud clerk." Sometimes the 
 mate would curse me, though never where
 
 342 " TURK " 
 
 the deck hands could hear him; but I cursed 
 him back, and thus we got along well 
 together. We were soon on our trip down 
 the river, and the jolly captain walked the 
 deck as proudly as if he had been commander 
 of a man-of-war. Late in the evening, while 
 we were taking on sacks of grain at a muddy 
 landing, I saw two men come aboard, Mose 
 and Tab; and I heard some one say to the 
 mate, "Ugly-looking customers, them." They 
 had not seen me, I thought, and I was not 
 anxious that they should. They paid for 
 deck passage, and I watched them until they 
 stretched themselves out to sleep. Early the 
 next morning, while we were unloading boxes 
 of merchandise near a small town, and when I 
 was busy on the shore, Mose and Tab came 
 off, paying no attention to me as they 
 ascended the slippery bank. But suddenly 
 some one cried, "Look out!" I leaped to one 
 side, and a bullet fired by Mose missed me 
 narrowly. As they ran away, I believe that 
 with my revolver I could have killed them 
 both, but I let them go. Two days later we 
 received news of them. In robbing a house, 
 they had beaten an old man to death, and a 
 mob had hanged them to a tree.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 
 
 HOUGH holding to the hope that 
 on some future day I might be a 
 lawyer and by my acquired shrewd 
 ness catch a witness in a lie, after 
 the manner of an old fellow whom I had seen 
 browbeating his way through a case, still it 
 seemed that I had now entered upon my life's 
 work. Within a few weeks I had made such 
 progress in the art of profanity, Captain Bate- 
 man declared, and could worry so much work 
 out of the negro deck hands, that I was pro 
 moted to the position of first mate. Imme 
 diately afterward, in the light of a pine torch, 
 I gathered all of my forces into one mighty 
 effort to construct a letter to Nan. I told her 
 something that she must have viewed as a 
 piece of startling news that at last I had 
 found a man "with the ability to appreciate 
 my worth." And as she was not supposed to 
 know anything of the duties and moreover 
 the responsibilities of a Cumberland River 
 
 343
 
 344 " TURK " 
 
 mate, I proceeded to enlighten her. Of 
 course the captain was an important figure, 
 but the mate! Without him the boat could 
 not be loaded, and if such were the case, of 
 what was the use that it should make a trip? 
 Therefore the mate was the boat. Perhaps 
 he did not receive as large a salary as the 
 captain, but to the mate there were in this life 
 other things aside from money. I told her of 
 a compliment generously paid to me by the 
 captain, that I was an artist in sulphur, which 
 any one must know was, in our line, superior 
 to being an artist in oil. I felt so proud of the 
 letter that I was inclined to read it to the cap 
 tain, but refrained, because along toward the 
 end there crept in a sentiment, so delicate and 
 suggestive, that even now I recall it with a 
 tender smile: "When we parted, you pre 
 tended to be playing with a dog. Wish I was 
 a dog." 
 
 About a week afterward the clerk of the 
 boat handed a letter to me, and I put it in the 
 pocket of my flannel shirt, to let my heart 
 beat against it until night, when again we 
 should be out upon the dark current of the 
 river, and then, hiding from all vulgar glances,
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 345 
 
 I could read it. The time came. Was an 
 envelope ever so hard to tear open? It was 
 like Nan herself refusing to talk. How black 
 was her ink, and how steady her hand ! 
 
 "I would have answered sooner," she said, 
 "but was playing with a dog. Kirkpatrick is 
 here for a few days. He says he couldn't stay 
 away any longer. The marriage is to take 
 place two weeks from to-day. Mr. Bloodgood 
 was over Sunday, and I asked him if he 
 needed any more boot lotion. He bristled up 
 and said he was going to whip you, and I told 
 him he could. Can't he? Papa says your 
 refusal to help drive the negroes proves that 
 his teachings haven't been altogether in vain. 
 Do you like pink? I am to wear a pink dress 
 at the wedding. I wish it were done, I mean 
 the dress, so I could try it on and tell you 
 about it. Captain Starks says you whipped 
 Mose and Tab unmercifully. Old Riddle- 
 berry Buck came over and asked me if it were 
 true, as if I knew anything about it. But I let 
 on like I did; I told him exactly how it was 
 done, and he laughed like a rusty saw. Now 
 I wonder what put that into my head. But 
 he has saw teeth, hasn't he? The other day
 
 346 " TURK " 
 
 dad got a long letter from Mr. Hoover, and 
 he says that the war is coming fast down 
 toward us, and I looked out but couldn't see 
 anything of it. It may come soon enough; 
 and it makes no difference what you are, I'm 
 a Yankee. Mr. Bloodgood says if I want him 
 to, he will fight for the North. Isn't that nice 
 of him? I told him that I knew of somebody 
 that wouldn't do that much for me, and he 
 grinned as if his boots were hurting him 
 again. Of course you remember old Mr. 
 Horner, the man you stole the whisky from. 
 They found him sitting in his stillhouse dead, 
 with a jug of whisky beside him. Let that be 
 warning to you. I am glad you have climbed 
 so high. I didn't expect it of you. But when 
 are you going to try to be a gentleman? Dad 
 says that all the pollparrots up and down the 
 river learn to swear from the mates. You 
 have learned to write so it can be read here 
 and there, but when are you going to learn to 
 spell? We haven't had but one crying flurry 
 since you left. It was when Amy said she 
 thought she was going to be the happiest girl in 
 the world, and mamma said, 'Well, if you are so 
 anxious to get away from us all, it is a wonder
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 347 
 
 you hadn't run away and married before you 
 came home from school.' She was crying 
 when Mr. Kirkpatrick came in, and he said 
 something about 'far be it from him,' and dad 
 said 'far be it from him,' and mamma wiped 
 away her tears. Who should come over last 
 Saturday night but Mr. Nick Bowles? He is 
 as handsome as ever and had on a blue vest 
 with a red gourd vine crawling all over it. 
 Dad didn't treat him any too well, afraid that 
 he had come to see me, but he hadn't. He 
 wanted your address so he could write to you 
 and make you a business offer, and then 
 mamma turned on him. She said that you 
 might be poor and one of the ugliest boys on 
 the earth, but that you had some little pride 
 and that your pride would keep you out of 
 the saloon business. I wonder how long it 
 will be before they hang him. The other 
 night we found a little lamb almost frozen, 
 and we put it on the hearth and gave it some 
 milk, and now it is standing beside me as I 
 write. I don't know what else to say. Oh, 
 you wish you were a dog? Wouldn't you 
 rather be this little sheep? No, you couldn't 
 be it isn't a black one. Well, I have written
 
 348 ' TURK " 
 
 you two letters, but you will notice that I 
 didn't send but one of them. I tore the other 
 one up. I don't suppose I shall ever see you 
 again; and if I don't, good-bye." 
 
 All these words, and not one gleam of light 
 thrown upon that great mystery, her heart. 
 I read the letter again and again, delving for 
 some hidden essence, but it wasn't there; so I 
 tore the paper into bits and sifted them out 
 upon the black bosom of the river. 
 
 I did not write again, I hadn't the heart; 
 and though I worked hard at my calling, it 
 seemed more of a drudgery and less of a pro 
 fession every day. The clerk had a number 
 of books, and I read many of them, flimsy 
 romances, and thus my time was all but 
 wasted. But I laid hold of one volume that 
 possessed a vital interest, a work on military 
 tactics. The war was coming. Along the 
 shores they were beating up volunteers. A 
 man from the North spoke of the coining 
 struggle as a "mere breakfast spell"; and at 
 several landings, sometimes late in the night 
 when rain was falling, I heard people shout 
 that one Southerner could whip three Yan 
 kees. My mind was made up, but I wanted to
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 349 
 
 enlist from my native State. So, one morn 
 ing, at the wharf in Nashville, I bade the 
 Blanche Lewis good-bye. On the train going 
 toward Louisville, I heard that Sumter had 
 been fired upon, and at a station where the 
 train halted, I saw them hoisting a new flag. 
 In the quiet air it looked impudent but cour 
 ageous, and men saluted it. Occasionally an 
 old fellow would shake his head; it was evi 
 dently the flag of the thoughtless young. 
 Northern Tennessee was almost a solid camp, 
 all for the South; but along up in Kentucky 
 there was blue mixed in with the gray. 
 Neighbors, friends, brothers, they were loth 
 to smite one another. But swords were 
 drawn, and the conflict could not long be 
 averted. It is harder to reconcile differences 
 of principle than differences of blood. 
 
 At the railway station where I had seen the 
 tan bark, I hired a spring wagon from a 
 farmer and drove into Scoville. The town 
 was mostly for the Union, but in an old field 
 not far away there was a Confederate camp. 
 I saw Nick, in gray, trailing a cavalry sword. 
 He told me that Colonel Pearson would like 
 to see me, and that he was in the Confederate
 
 350 " TURK " 
 
 camp. Thither I went and found him sitting 
 beneath a tree, writing names on a roll of 
 paper. When I told him my name he got up 
 and shook hands with me. 
 
 "I don't know whether you know anything 
 about it or not," said he, "but my people fa 
 vored your people against the Nesbitts." 
 
 "Yes, I have heard of it." 
 
 He nodded. "And my oldest brother lost 
 his life. Now, the only surviving kinsman of 
 the Nesbitts is out for the Yankees., and Lou 
 Biddle, the town marshal, although he 
 opposed abolition and is the man who really 
 organized a gang to whip Professor Emory 
 on a night that you no doubt remember he, 
 Biddle, is a Yankee captain." 
 
 "Then what do you want me to do?" I 
 asked, and he pointed to the names on his 
 roll. "I want you here. I have organized an 
 independent command. Some people may go 
 so far as to call it a guerrilla band. But no 
 matter. I know your blood. Join me, and I 
 will make you a captain. Remember your 
 obligation. My people helped yours. Will 
 you give me your hand?" 
 
 I did. He called a negro and ordered him
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 351 
 
 to bring forth Kaintuck, a beautiful iron-gray 
 horse, which was presented to me, and then I 
 was assigned to quarters. Before putting on 
 my uniform, I requested permission to ride 
 over to the professor's, but upon this the 
 colonel frowned. 
 
 "You will find him a Yankee major, full- 
 fledged, and as bitter as gall-nut. However, 
 go ahead; you know how to take care of 
 yourself." 
 
 It was about ten o'clock at night when I 
 halted at the gate. I halloed, the professor 
 came to the door, and when I made myself 
 known, he bade me come in. He looked at 
 me hard and close when I came into the light 
 that fell through the door, to determine my 
 color, but finding no mark of either one side 
 or the other, shook hands with me. There 
 was in the room none save himself until I 
 entered, and then we stood cool, face to face. 
 He wore the uniform of a Federal major, and 
 his shoulder straps gleamed in the light. 
 
 "Well, you have come back," he said, and 
 before I replied, he added, "Sit down." But I 
 thanked him, saying that I had but a few 
 moments to stay. Then he looked at me, and
 
 352 " TURK " 
 
 in his gaze I read his inquiry as to why I had 
 come. It was to see Nan that was all, but I 
 could not tell him. I wondered where she was. 
 
 "Does Miss Amy live -" 
 
 "Mrs. Kirkpatrick lives in her own home," 
 he broke in. 
 
 "Is Miss Nan visiting her?" 
 
 "My younger daughter is here, at home, 
 sir," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Emory came in from the dining-room. 
 She was surprised to see me, but the professor 
 cleared his throat, and she seemed instantly 
 to alter her intention of bidding me welcome. 
 But standing there with nothing to say was 
 awkward, and I sat down. The professor 
 continued to stand, on the hearth, back to the 
 fire. Would Nan never come? She did, 
 opened the door just a little, and peeped in, 
 and then she entered, shivering as if she 
 were cold. About her she wore a red shawl, 
 a sumach bush touched by the frost, I 
 thought. She held out her hand. Again the 
 professor cleared his throat, and she laughed, 
 which made her seem colder than her shiver. 
 
 "I suppose," said the professor, "you have 
 come back to "
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 353 
 
 "Eat supper," Nan broke in. "You don't 
 look any too well fed, Turk." 
 
 "Mr. Griffin," the professor corrected her. 
 
 "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Griffin," said Nan. 
 "But won't you have some supper?" 
 
 At this the professor was not pleased; and I, 
 thanking her, told her that I had eaten, which 
 she knew was a lie. After an embarrassing 
 pause the professor began to wind his watch. 
 
 "Come, sir," he said, "tell us where you 
 stand. Have you come back to fight for or 
 against your State? She has refused to go 
 out of the Union. Have you refused?" 
 
 "I have called, Major, to spend a few peace 
 ful moments in your house, the only home I 
 have ever known. And I don't think it will 
 be hard for you to remember that I was will 
 ing to defend this home with my life." 
 
 "I know all about that, sir. But wasn't it 
 quite as much your inherent fondness for a 
 fight as " 
 
 "Walter," his wife spoke up, "don't dis 
 credit his faithfulness. You know he was 
 faithful. You know he could have got you 
 into trouble by simply uttering a word. To 
 tell you the truth, I am sorry for him this
 
 354 " TURK " 
 
 minute. Don't you see he wants to tell us 
 how much he thinks of us? Don't you?" 
 
 The professor smiled, but in bitterness. 
 "He does not think enough of us to 
 
 "But, Walter, he hasn't said which side he is 
 on, and I don't know that we have any right 
 to ask him." 
 
 "Yes, we have, Louise. I have the right 
 and not only that, the authority vested in me by 
 the Government. If you are a rebel, say so." 
 
 "I don't know that I like the word rebel any 
 too well." 
 
 "Oh, I think it's beautiful," said Nan. "It 
 sounds like running away and having a good 
 time." 
 
 "Nanette," solemnly spoke the professor, "it 
 is high time you were leaving off your silli 
 ness." 
 
 I arose and, standing squarely in front of 
 the professor, said to him, "It doesn't require 
 any beating about the bush to find out which 
 side I am on. A long time ago you asked 
 me, and I told you. It was born in me to 
 fight for the South. I will not try to explain 
 why. It is not that I wish the negroes to be 
 kept in slavery. I don't give a snap for the
 
 "HIS SWORD WAS HANGING NEAR THE MANTLEPIECE"
 
 THE SWORD IN THE AIR 355 
 
 negro one way or the other. But I belong to 
 the family of the South." 
 
 "Get out of my house." 
 
 I bowed to him. "But won't you let me go 
 upstairs to look once again at my garret my 
 bed?" 
 
 "Out with you, or I'll strike you to the 
 earth." 
 
 His sword was hanging near the mantel 
 piece. He seized it, stripped it of the scab 
 bard and stood with it in his hand. I made 
 no show of resentment. My blood leaped, but 
 it fell back cool. Nan was holding the door 
 open. As I passed out, she stepped down 
 into the yard. I heard the professor roar at 
 her. I heard his sword strike against some 
 thing. But I seized her in my arms seized 
 her with such fury that she could make no 
 outcry seized her and kissed her like a sav 
 age, like an animal devouring its prey kissed 
 her hot lips; and when I released her, she 
 sank upon the steps, and there was 'the pro 
 fessor with his sword flashing above my head. 
 I sprang back as the blade cleft the air, and 
 then I ran, not in fear but in wild delight, and 
 leaped upon my horse.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 
 
 TARTAR that had stolen a 
 
 maiden ever galloped more furi 
 ously than I did through the dark 
 ness and the splashing mud, back 
 to the camp. I knew that henceforth Nan 
 was to be my mortal enemy, with just cause 
 to take my life if opportunity ever offered, 
 but I palliated my brutal conscience with the 
 reflection that she had brought it upon her 
 self. Year after year, had she not tantalized 
 me in my heart-hunger for a kind word? 
 Had she not gazed at me through her cross- 
 barred fingers and danced in mockery when 
 for one look of sympathy I would have 
 thanked her on my knees? But with all this 
 self-defense, I felt that I had robbed her, and 
 in my mind the kisses became tangible things, 
 roses torn to pieces. Ah, but the memory of 
 them was fiercely sweet and more than worth 
 the price, the risk of death. 
 
 Upon reaching the camp, I found the com- 
 356
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 357 
 
 mand ready to move. The war had begun in 
 earnest, and during that afternoon there had 
 been a skirmish between our band and Lou 
 Riddle's independent company. So we fell 
 back fifty miles to the southward, while into 
 the territory which we were forced to abandon 
 came the steadfast army of the North. I 
 shall not write of the skirmishes in which I 
 bore a part, for this is a personal and, I hope, 
 a modest recital rather than the history of 
 battles. I was a captain, it is true, but little 
 better was I than a freebooter. With no 
 higher authority than our own will, we im 
 pressed horses, and I am not sure that Pear 
 son did not go so far as to extort money. 
 This brought to me a determination to join 
 the regular Confederate forces, and it was 
 only the hope of getting Biddle's scalp that 
 kept me from deserting our band. 
 
 In my company was an old fellow named 
 Slayton. He had been reputed to be the pos 
 sessor of vast wealth, and I wondered that he 
 should suffer the privations of the rank and 
 file of an adventurous gang when with the 
 influence of money he might easily find a 
 position in the army. I put the question to
 
 358 " TURK " 
 
 him, and he told me that he, too, wanted a 
 shot at Lou Biddle. "I was living not far 
 from Old Blood," said he, "and one night not 
 long ago Biddle came to my house, tied me 
 flat upon the ground and built a fire at my 
 feet to torture out of me the whereabouts of 
 my money. What little money I possessed 
 had been sent South, and I told him so; but 
 he didn't believe me and would have burnt 
 my feet off if you boys hadn't happened along. 
 And now all I want is a chance at him." 
 
 We had dashed back into the enemy's coun 
 try and for a day and a night were camped at 
 Old Blood. Old Slayton said that he would 
 improve the opportunity of renewing acquaint 
 ance with tender memories, as he put it, 
 which he did during the day and the most of 
 the night by sitting beside his brother's grave. 
 I came upon him as I was wandering about 
 among the graves of my people. "This is the 
 only relation I have here," he said, pointing 
 to a headstone, and, looking at it, I read, 
 "James Slayton, born December 8, 1815; died 
 of smallpox, October 2, 1861." 
 
 "He was the best man that ever lived," said 
 the old fellow; "and if he had lived, I wouldn't
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 359 
 
 have gone into this squabble. He had lived 
 in the North nearly all his life, and I had 
 about made arrangements to go up there with 
 him the fact is he came after me, but he 
 took smallpox coming through Louisville and 
 died at my house." 
 
 When the moon came up, and while we 
 were getting ready to decamp, the poor old 
 man sang a hymn over his brother's grave, 
 bowed three times as if going through with 
 some sort of Masonic right, and turned sadly 
 away. He had never married, on account of 
 his miserly nature, the boys said; but it was 
 evident that in his heart there was a love 
 nobler than the love for earthly possessions 
 and he had the merit of being game. Many 
 times we were in dangerous quarters, but I 
 never knew him to quail. I felt that he was 
 inclined to be more honorable than our aver 
 age trooper, and once I hinted that it would 
 be well for him and me to give over the life 
 of the guerrilla and to join Forrest, who was 
 not far from us. For a time he said nothing, 
 but he took my hand and was pressing it 
 when Nick Bowles came along. 
 
 "We are just shaking hands on a proposi-
 
 360 ' TURK " 
 
 tion," he said to Nick, and I wondered if he 
 were going to betray me; but when Nick 
 inquired as to the nature of the proposition 
 he said, "That we shall make it the object of 
 our lives to catch Lou Biddle." 
 
 "Got a little interest in him myself," replied 
 Nick. "The last time he came into my 
 saloon, he threw a bottle at my head, and 
 that's no way to make love to me." 
 
 Pearson had full confidence in me, and I was 
 sorry to leave him, but I had some little honor 
 left; and I had discharged the Griffin debt. 
 It was a war of chicanery, of hatred fiercer 
 than the hatred existing between mere ene 
 mies, and I often wondered what good was to 
 come from Southern success. But that ques 
 tion often arose among the poverty-stricken 
 fellows that were fighting for an aristocracy; 
 and I heard an old man, one of the sharpest 
 shooters of the war, declare that he was going 
 to fight to the end, but that if the South suc 
 ceeded he would turn his back upon it and 
 live in a foreign country. 
 
 Occasionally we heard from the professor. 
 He was in the cavalry with Wolford; was des 
 perately dashing, and had hanged at least five
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 361 
 
 of Pearson's men. "But we'll pick him up 
 one of these nights," said Pearson. "And I 
 reckon you've got an old score to settle with 
 him, Turk." 
 
 I had told him of the professor's sword, 
 flashing above my head, but had not told him 
 the truth as to the cause. "Yes," I replied, 
 "and when you catch him, I hope you'll be so 
 obliging as to turn him over to me." 
 
 "All right, if you'll agree to give me your 
 interest in Lou Biddle." 
 
 We struck a bargain. "Hope you'll give 
 me one bite out of him," said Nick. "I ain't 
 forgot the time he sailed that flat rock at 
 me." 
 
 A few evenings after this, I had just 
 returned from a wild dash into Scoville when 
 Nick met me at the outer edge of the camp. 
 "How does the old town look?" he asked with 
 a touch of homesickness in his voice. 
 
 "Pretty red. They killed six of my men." 
 
 "Did they git old Slayton?" 
 
 "No, he's all right." 
 
 I was about to pass on, leading my horse, 
 when Nick said, "I reckon you've come 
 twenty-five miles in a hurry. And I want to
 
 362 "TURK" 
 
 say you are the luckiest man in the world, and 
 yo' luck on this here occasion don't lie in 
 the fact that you got out of Scoville alive. 
 There's somethin' waitin' for you that will 
 make yo' heart dance a jig." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Can't you guess?" He came closer to me, 
 and by the light of a fire I saw his old-time 
 grin. 
 
 "Don't think I can. What is it?" 
 
 "They have cotched the professor." 
 
 "What, you don't tell me!" 
 
 "Well, I don't know who else does if I don't. 
 Pearson's got him right over yonder by the 
 fire." 
 
 I hastened to headquarters, and there was 
 the professor, sitting on a log with his hands 
 tied behind him. As I strode into the light, 
 still leading my horse, the old man looked up 
 and then without a word looked down again. 
 It was evident to me that he wasn't going to 
 beg for his life. Pearson came out of a shack 
 built of rails. "Well," said he, "where's my 
 man Biddle?" 
 
 "I could have killed him, but I knew you 
 wanted him alive."
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 363 
 
 "You are right. I suppose you recognize 
 this gentleman?" 
 
 "Think I've seen him before." 
 
 "Ah, hah! The boys brought him in this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Does he belong to me?" 
 
 "I am a man of my word." 
 
 "All right, Colonel. I did think of hanging 
 him; but as he is rather a brave soldier, I 
 think he merits shooting." 
 
 "You are improving in your language," said 
 the professor. 
 
 "Yes, thanks to the books you so kindly 
 permitted me to read. And now, Colonel, as 
 I am not a man to put off a pleasure, I'll dispose 
 of him at once. Will you take a walk with 
 me, sir?" 
 
 The professor got up without a word and 
 faced about. "This way," said I. They had 
 "hobbled" him with a rope, and his steps were 
 short. I told him to take his time. Nick 
 came up and said that he had always been my 
 friend. "And I think," said he, "you ought to 
 let me go along and take a crack at him." 
 
 "Stay where you are," I commanded. "This 
 is a private affair. I have something to say to
 
 364 "TURK" 
 
 him that I don't want any one to hear. This 
 way, professor." 
 
 "Major, sir," he said. 
 
 There was no path, but in the woods there 
 was no underbrush. Not far off was a sink 
 hole. "A better grave than you deserve," I 
 remarked, telling him of a thorn tree that 
 grew upon the brink. "I hope your people are 
 well, Major. Does Mrs. Kirkpatrick live " 
 
 "She lives in her own home, sir." 
 
 "Is her husband in the army?" 
 
 "A captain of artillery, sir." 
 
 "You find that rope about your legs incon 
 venient. Shall I take it off ?" 
 
 "No. You would put me to the temptation 
 of kicking you." 
 
 "You see how gentlemanly our fellows are," 
 said I. "They are not following to spy upon 
 your death." 
 
 "Again let me compliment you upon the 
 improvement in your language. When we 
 met the last time " 
 
 "You gave me no opportunity to show my 
 improvement," I broke in. 
 
 "Possibly not. You deserved nothing but 
 death at my hands."
 
 DID NOT BEG FOR HIS LIFE 365 
 
 "Well, here we are," said I. "And now I 
 have a few words to say to you. I am going 
 to untie you and put you on my horse, and 
 when you have ridden off a few hundred 
 yards, I'm going to fire four or five shots into 
 this sink hole and then throw in old stumps 
 and leaves, to cover you up, you see. There 
 is not power enough in all the Confederacy to 
 make me kill you." 
 
 For a moment he stood as if stupefied, and 
 then cried out, "Turk, God bless you." 
 
 "And God bless you you and the rest of 
 them at home. Now keep quiet." I untied 
 him and helped him upon the horse. Lean 
 ing over he put his arm about my neck, and 
 then without a word slowly rode away. I 
 watched him for a time and then began to fire 
 into the sink hole. A shout arose in the 
 camp, and to the tune of "John Brown's 
 Body," some one began to sing: 
 
 "There goes another Yank a-lookin' for his 
 grave."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ON THE LAKE SHORE 
 
 HAD given my beautiful iron-gray 
 horse to the professor, and return 
 ing to the camp I fashioned a lie in 
 self-defense. My plan was to 
 swear on the following morning that he had 
 been stolen during the night, but a quite nat 
 ural event relieved me of the necessity of tell 
 ing a falsehood, for along toward midnight we 
 were surprised by Federal cavalry and com 
 pletely routed. Our pickets had been eluded 
 or quietly butchered, and as resistance was 
 useless, our men fled in every direction. I 
 sprang upon the first horse that came to 
 hand. A few of us rallied about daylight 
 when it was learned that Pearson had been 
 killed. By this time we were near the Ten 
 nessee line, and crossing over we soon came 
 upon Forrest. I had no hope of retaining 
 my captaincy under this hard-headed and 
 exacting warrior, so Slayton and I joined the 
 
 ranks. Nick Bowles had come along, and 
 
 366
 
 ON THE LAKE SHORE 367 
 
 soon drew attention to himself by mysteri 
 ously getting whisky and selling it to the sol 
 diers. He was put in the guardhouse, and I 
 heard Forrest say to him, "I catch you at that 
 sort of thing again, and I'll hang you as high 
 as Haman." 
 
 And now it was a constant fight, day after 
 day. One night I heard that Nick had been 
 taken up again, and the next morning he was 
 court-martialed and found guilty of holding 
 communication with the enemy. The proof 
 was not to be waived aside, and, in fact, he 
 had deserted when captured. Together with 
 a corporal's squad, I was detailed to hang him. 
 I was accustomed to blood and to death in all 
 its varied forms, but this was a creepy assign 
 ment, and I would have begged off, did try it, in 
 fact, but found it useless. We took the poor 
 wretch to the handiest tree, stood him on a 
 barrel and tied a rope about his neck. What 
 sort of mocking fate was it that compelled me 
 to tie the rope? We watched him until he 
 had ceased to kick, and then rode on. Poor 
 devil, he seemed to have been born for that 
 especial purpose. 
 
 It was a long time before I saw my native
 
 368 " TURK " 
 
 State again, and when I turned northward, it 
 was in a detail from Forrest to go with Mor 
 gan upon his raid into Indiana. I haven't 
 found out yet what object could have been 
 served by that raid. A child could have seen 
 that it was to be a losing game. We crossed 
 the river as conquerors, we made many a gal 
 lant stand, and cut many a swirling dash; but 
 the entire country was in arms against us. 
 Finally the command was scattered, and then 
 it was a running fight to get back over into 
 Kentucky. One afternoon when tired out 
 with flight, we were captured, ten of us; and 
 then we learned that Morgan himself had 
 been taken. So this was the end of our bril 
 liant but foolhardy dash into the North. 
 
 On the lake shore, at Chicago, a prison 
 camp had been named after the statesman 
 Douglas. Thither we were taken, and found 
 so many of our acquaintances there that our 
 arrival was in the nature of a reunion. The 
 discipline was exacting; to cross a line was 
 sure death; but how quiet and peaceful was 
 it all compared with the storms through 
 which we had passed ! For a time, a year at 
 least, we drew better rations than had graced
 
 ON THE LAKE SHORE 369 
 
 our most sumptuous days in the field; though, 
 in retaliation for Andersonville, we were made 
 to feel that we were not guests of honor. 
 For weeks at a time we were almost famished, 
 and for trivial offenses the punishment was 
 often inhuman. Not far from my quarters 
 there had been put up a high board with a 
 sharp edge. It was called Morgan's mule, 
 and sometimes for a word, a mere look, our 
 men were set astride upon it. Once a young 
 ster complained that he couldn't ride without 
 stirrups, and they tied bricks to his feet. But 
 in a way I was delighted, for in my square a 
 school was opened by men competent and 
 anxious to teach. Books were supplied by 
 sisters of charity. Slayton, old as he was, 
 became a student of political economy. He 
 did not expect ever to have any active use for 
 the science, but the word "economy" appealed 
 to his habits and his fancy. He and I bunked 
 together. By some means he had smuggled 
 in a twenty-five-cent silver piece, and the boys 
 used to say that he would wear it out with 
 counting it. 
 
 As I advanced well into my studies, so 
 absorbing did they become that I often for-
 
 370 " TURK " 
 
 got my hunger. The president of our univer 
 sity was a Harvard man, and he predicted 
 that I would carry off the honors of my class. 
 
 One night the plan of a conspiracy to 
 escape was made known to me. From the 
 outside we were to receive help, and then 
 across the prairies we were to gallop toward 
 freedom. I did not approve the plan. The 
 fact was that I did not desire my liberty. For 
 the privilege of drinking at the fount of learn 
 ing, I was willing to endure all sorts of bodily 
 privations. The attempt was made, however, 
 and failed. Several men were hanged, and 
 we resumed our duties of submission and of 
 hunger. 
 
 The sight of an Italian girl, walking through 
 the prison with a priest, brought me to the 
 notion of writing to Nan. I knew that not 
 even the sparing of her father's life could 
 have softened her into a forgiveness toward 
 me, but I mused that in her scorn there might 
 be a reminiscent pleasure; and so I wrote to 
 her, not asking her to forget my brutality, but 
 giving her an account of my life on the lake 
 shore. When the letter had been read by the 
 authorities and passed on into the postoffice,
 
 ON THE LAKE SHORE 371 
 
 I was seized with a fear that her scorn might 
 be of the silent-contempt variety, and then I 
 regretted having written. The days passed, 
 and no word came from her. But when 
 nearly two months had gone by, a letter 
 came. Nervously I tore open the envelope, 
 and sitting on the edge of my bunk, with the 
 wind howling and the snow drifting outside, I 
 read her words, over and over again. Had 
 she waited to school herself into silence on 
 the subject of my outrageous conduct? No 
 hint did she drop that a memory of it dwelled 
 in her mind. 
 
 "We thought that you must have been 
 killed long ago," she said. "Colonel Lou 
 Biddle, who was at our house some time last 
 spring, said that he was almost certain you 
 had been killed on the night when Pearson's 
 guerrillas were cut to pieces. Running a great 
 risk to save father was a noble act on your 
 part, and although I know that in many ways 
 you are unforgiving, yet I was not surprised. 
 Mr. Bloodgood went into the Union army, as 
 he said he would do for me, but after serving 
 his first enlistment, refused to become a 
 veteran by reenlisting unless I would agree to
 
 372 " TURK " 
 
 marry him. Was I not sufficiently patriotic to 
 do this ? Do I not love my country? And 
 there is so little a woman can do, you know. 
 He was tall and, in his uniform, rather hand 
 some, with much shining brass about him and 
 with never a suggestion that his boots were 
 pinching. I admit that all this was a tempta 
 tion, but I didn't marry him. It was your old 
 friend Champ Jones, I believe, who said that 
 I was to make some man miserable. Was it 
 because I respected this man too much to 
 make him unhappy? We have not seen 
 father for a long time, as he is in the South; 
 but he writes regularly. Amy's captain has 
 been discharged on account of a wound, but 
 appears to be as well as ever. He says that 
 as soon as the war is over he is going to estab 
 lish a school. Of course you don't know that 
 Amy has a boy. She has. He is more than 
 a year old, and on his stick-horse has joined 
 the cavalry. And so at last you have a 
 chance to study. Try to believe that the war 
 was brought about for that especial purpose. 
 It might make you feel better. Mr. Hoover 
 is the chaplain of a regiment quartered not 
 far from Scoville. Last Sunday mamma and I
 
 ON THE LAKE SHORE 373 
 
 went to hear him preach. He has taken 
 nearly all the little children out of torment, 
 and has supplied their places with rebels and 
 occasionally a rebel child. I suppose you 
 know that Nick Bowles was hanged. Riddle- 
 berry Buck, while hauling salt from over in 
 Tennessee, came upon him swinging from a 
 limb, poor fellow, and cut him down and 
 buried him. I asked Mr. Hoover what, in his 
 opinion, had become of Nick's soul, and he 
 said that, all things considered, it must be in a 
 bad way. I don't know that you deserve so 
 long a letter, but here it is. And I must ask 
 you not to write again. I don't say this out 
 of meanness, but because I can't help feeling 
 that the war has made us enemies. No, I 
 don't mean that. How could you be my 
 enemy when you have proved my father's 
 friend and rescuer? Still, I don't want to 
 hear from you again until the war is over." 
 
 Never had she been so self-contained; but 
 before reading halfway through the letter, I 
 felt that I was not to write again. Yet some 
 how I could not get it out of my head that the 
 professor's house was my home.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 E WERE permitted to study the 
 past, the campaigns of Caesar, but 
 were kept ignorant of the progress 
 of the great war, except in so far 
 as our information came through channels 
 purified of all criticism. For the most part, 
 the news of the day that reached us was in 
 the nature of orations on the glory achieved by 
 Union arms at the front. That there must be 
 an occasional reverse, we could divine through 
 atmospheric influences from the outside, a 
 stillness that fell for days at a time. The 
 continuous want of food may make one spirit 
 ual, and in the absence of beef there may be a 
 psychic intuition. Freedom of speech was 
 denied, but in whispers at night we spoke of 
 the last heroic struggle of the South. But 
 prospect was dead and there was no hope, 
 save that the war might soon come to an end. 
 Smallpox broke out in our square, in my 
 room, my bunk. Old Slayton was stricken. 
 Cases were so numerous that the sufferers 
 were not isolated, but remained to take care 
 of companions who, in their weakness, needed 
 
 374
 
 CONCLUSION . 375 
 
 attention. In his delirium Slayton moaned 
 over the grave at Old Blood. One night, 
 with his mind partly wandering, he said, 
 "Strange that he should die of smallpox and 
 that I should, too. But Lou Biddle couldn't 
 get him." Day by day he grew worse, and I 
 knew that he was soon to be taken out to the 
 frozen field. One morning, when his mind 
 was clear, he said to me, "When we are alone, 
 there is something I want to say to you." 
 
 "We are alone now." 
 
 "Where is Charley Sharp?" he inquired, 
 meaning one of our roommates. 
 
 "He has gone out." 
 
 "Did they take him out? Don't fear to tell 
 me." 
 
 "Yes. He died last night." 
 
 "They will take me next." 
 
 "No, you may get well." 
 
 On his black pillow I saw his poor old head 
 shaking. "It can't be. I know. And you 
 have nursed me day and night, and you gave 
 me all the blanket when it was cold. Do you 
 know where my brother is buried?" 
 
 "Yes, at Old Blood." 
 
 "Has any one come in?" 
 
 "No, we are alone." 
 
 "Where is the guard?" 
 
 "On his beat at the far end of the line." 
 
 "Is he? Then I will tell you something, 
 Turk. I never had a brother."
 
 376 " TURK " 
 
 I thought that again his mind was wander 
 ing, but he raised himself up and gave me a 
 strange look and a smile. "Listen to me. I 
 never had a brother. It was a trick. That 
 grave holds my gold, gold in an iron box, 
 the greed of a lifetime. After Biddle burnt 
 my feet, I put it there; and as I told you, my 
 sole aim in fighting was to kill him. It shall 
 be yours, Turk. It will make you rich, this 
 gold of my grandfather's and father's. 
 Believe what I say. My mind is sound now, 
 but before long it will wander again, and if I 
 talk as if I were at the grave, make a noise so 
 no one can understand. Ah, you said we were 
 alone. There is a man over in that bunk." 
 
 "Yes, Sam Atterson, but he is dead. They 
 are coming for him now." 
 
 He had one other lucid interval. He could 
 not tell me how much gold was in the grave, 
 but he said that it was more than a strong 
 man could lift. "I came by it as honestly as a 
 miser could," said he; "sold all my property 
 just before the war and would have taken my 
 gold away, but I neglected to move it, being 
 afraid, till the storm broke, and then I had to 
 make a quick shift. Ah, you will be a rich 
 man," he said, looking at me with pride. 
 "The poor bound boy won't be bound any 
 more, and the wretches will grovel to him. 
 Compared with me they were nearly all pau 
 pers. And many a time in the shine of that
 
 THAT GRAVE HOLDS MY COLD
 
 CONCLUSION 377 
 
 gold I have sat hungry, because I was afraid 
 to give up any of it lest it all might begin to 
 take wings." 
 
 For a time I was skeptical, but he finally con 
 vinced me, and upon my knees I dropped, be 
 side his bed, and holding his hand thanked him. 
 
 "You mustn't do that," he said, "for you are 
 my gold as long as I live. I possess you, and 
 you possess the gold, and in that way it is still 
 mine, and I see it before me." 
 
 He took my fingers and played with them, 
 counting them time and again as if he were 
 telling gold pieces. Shortly after this his 
 mind failed, and never again gave forth a 
 gleam of light. He died while a March tem 
 pest was howling, and out to the frozen field 
 they took him. 
 
 Another poor wretch came in to bunk with 
 me, and in his cold and fitful sleep he con 
 stantly muttered of a cabin on the edge of the 
 timber where the woodpeckers looked like red 
 apples flying through the air, and the sun was 
 ever warm in front of the door where he fan 
 cied that he was sitting on a bench. I thought 
 that the smallpox would regard it as a huge 
 joke to seize upon me and snatch me away 
 from the gold in the grave, and sometimes in 
 the night I could hear the disease, typified in 
 the form of a gigantic Malay with rough skin 
 and curved sword, coming across the square, 
 and yelling in his delight; but it was only the
 
 378 " TURK " 
 
 wind come to play with the tatters of dying 
 men. Day after day I waited to be stricken 
 down, but the epidemic passed, and I was well 
 and enthusiastic over my books. 
 
 But not so much, let me confess, as I was 
 before I had become heir to the treasures of 
 old Slayton's grave. And it proved to me 
 that I had not been a student so much for the 
 sake of knowledge as for the spiteful hope 
 that I might be lifted above the ignorant, who 
 sought to spread over me their humiliating 
 patronage. The old man who took Slayton's 
 place was carried away to the field that now 
 was thawing; and Barrett, the president of 
 my university, came in to take his place. It 
 was pleasant to lie there, listening to his talk. 
 Learning is garrulous when treated with 
 respect. One evening we knew that the war 
 was done. "And I think," said Barrett, "that 
 we shall be permitted to leave within a day or 
 two. Whither are you going?" 
 
 "From here to Louisville, and then across 
 the country to a place where I lived." 
 
 "Where you were a poor and ignorant boy, 
 I suppose. Well, the war has ruined many a 
 man, morally and intellectually, but it has 
 been of great benefit to you. While you are 
 not a scholar, you are in a fair way to become 
 one if you should put your mind to it. But in 
 the meantime what are you going to do for a 
 living?"
 
 CONCLUSION 379 
 
 "Work at something," I answered, keeping 
 close the secret of my gold. 
 
 "But you will need a suit of clothes and a 
 little money to provide for expenses home. 
 In Louisville I shall be pretty well supplied, 
 and I shall be pleased to lend you, say, two 
 hundred dollars." 
 
 "I thank you, and I shall accept your offer, 
 for I can easily pay back the amount." 
 
 "You may take your own time about it." 
 
 "No, that will not be necessary. I know of 
 a box that contains " 
 
 "Oh, you have been a miser, eh?" 
 
 "No, I haven't, but perhaps some one else 
 has," and feeling that I had said enough and, 
 indeed, regretting that I had said as much, I 
 changed the subject to one of ancient philoso 
 phy; for I knew that in talking Plato he 
 would soon forget everything else. 
 
 How like a hard and merciless winter did 
 that old camp break up! But not even the 
 most thoughtful of us halted to moralize 
 upon it. The air outside was bleak with a 
 spitting of April snow, but it was free; and after 
 two years of degradation, we were permitted 
 to roam about at will. Once, while walking 
 half dreamily, I leaped back as I came to a 
 streak of tar in the street, thinking of the 
 dead line. I went with Barrett, and ah, the 
 banquet-like meal at a hotel! Barrett's crav 
 ing was for potatoes with brown gravy; while
 
 380 "TURK" 
 
 eggs, soft-boiled and broken in a glass, sent 
 me up to the Elysium of gastronomic bliss. 
 But we were ragged, and the gamins of the 
 streets, knowing that we were liberated rebel 
 prisoners, followed us about with gibes and 
 often with mud. 
 
 On the first night after our freedom, we 
 took train for Louisville; and a negro inso 
 lently accosted us at the steps of a car and 
 asked the numbers of our sleeper berths, and 
 then he laughed and cried out that he guessed 
 we were fortunate to be permitted to live. 
 Barrett called out to me to stop, but I 
 snatched a green flag out of a socket and 
 with the staff cracked the negro over the 
 head, not once but several times, and I saw 
 his black wool fly in the air and rejoiced that 
 his blood flowed upon the platform. The 
 conductor came running up, and I thought 
 that I should be taken off to prison, but 
 instinctively he knew the cause of my assault, 
 and he hustled us up to a coach near the 
 engine and told us to keep quiet. Just 
 before the train started, two policemen came 
 aboard, looking about, and I heard the con 
 ductor say, "But we haven't time to wait. 
 Why doesn't the darkey come and identify 
 him?" 
 
 "He is too badly hurt," the policeman 
 replied. 
 
 "But we haven't time to wait." And he
 
 CONCLUSION 381 
 
 rang the bell. The policemen got off, and 
 when the conductor came along I said to him, 
 "It might come my way to help you one of 
 these days." 
 
 "Ticket. I never saw you before, sir." 
 
 God bless him! God bless the man whom 
 God inspires to lie for the unfortunate! 
 
 We arrived in Louisville about ten o'clock 
 the next morning, and after going to a res 
 taurant where there were more potatoes with 
 brown gravy and more soft-boiled eggs 
 broken in a glass, we got into a hack and 
 were driven to a tobacco warehouse where 
 an old gentleman seized Barrett about the 
 neck and wept over him. I hung back, but 
 the old gentleman grasped me warmly when 
 Barrett, his son, introduced me; and it was 
 not long before two hundred dollars had been 
 placed in my hand. These happy men urged 
 me to go home with them; but I thanked 
 them, backing off during the time, and told 
 them that I must hasten across the country. 
 And now a fear that the grave might contain 
 nothing but the bones of a man, came and 
 took cold possession of me; and on the train 
 whenever I dozed, I was sure to awake with a 
 start of disappointment and of horror. 
 
 It was dark when I got off at a station near 
 the inn wherein I had slept when taking Amy 
 to school, and here I hired a carryall and a 
 horse, and providing myself with a lantern,
 
 382 " TURK " 
 
 shovel, pick, hammer, chisel, and a broad 
 piece of carpet, set out for Old Blood. The 
 night was dark and cloudy, and for this 
 muffling I was thankful. The country had 
 been somewhat changed by the war; fences 
 were moved, and trees cut down, but the road 
 was not to be mistaken, and not once did I 
 miss the way. But as I drew near to the 
 famous old school, the fear that with Slayton 
 it had all been a delirium seized upon me and 
 shook me like a chill, like the shivers that 
 Nan had the night she came into the room to 
 see her father thrust me out and to find her 
 self outraged of her lips. 
 
 Down into a ravine, across a stream in 
 which I had often waded, up a steep place, 
 and I could hear the murmuring flow of the 
 spring. I remembered well the location of the 
 grave, to the left of the house, near the road; 
 and I halted and lighted my lantern, to find 
 that it was only a few feet away. I got down 
 on my knees and read the name and the date 
 of death, and it all was so truth-like that I 
 shuddered and got up and stood there trem 
 bling. An owl hooted, and I jumped and 
 thought of the parrot that had called me a 
 liar in Nick's saloon. I recalled Slayton's 
 words, one at a time, pondering and striving 
 to bring back the expression of his face; and 
 this gave me courage. The earth was 
 gravelly and not hard to shovel; and with a
 
 CONCLUSION 383 
 
 wild energy I worked until the box was 
 reached beneath a layer of boards. But it 
 looked by my dim light so much like a burial 
 case that I leaped out of the grave and stood 
 mopping my brow. I thought that I heard 
 some one coming, and I put out the lantern, 
 and long was it before I could light it again, 
 for the oil seemed to be failing. At it again I 
 went, and now the box looked smaller than a 
 burial case. I scraped the earth from the 
 rusting top, but could not get the lid open, so 
 I shoveled a space at the side to give me 
 more leeway. There was a staple and a pad 
 lock of brass; I attacked the staple with the 
 hammer and chisel; off it flew, and I seized 
 the lid and lifted it. And there was the gold 
 glowing in the light; and I threw myself upon 
 it, not in fear as poor old Slayton had so often 
 done, but in a victorious delight. 
 
 Now came the work of getting the treasure 
 into the wagon. He had told the truth the 
 box was more than I could lift; so I took as 
 much of the gold as I could at a time in the 
 broad shovel, and poured it into the wagon. 
 And at last I got the box out and put it into 
 the wagon, then I put back all the gold into 
 the box and as best I could fastened down 
 the lid and spread the carpet over it. 
 
 Then onward I slowly drove, wondering 
 whither to go, what to do with my uncounted 
 riches. It would not be wise to drive up to a
 
 384 "TURK" 
 
 bank, even if there were one sound enough to 
 trust. Then I thought of old Champ and his 
 out-of-the-way place. Him I could trust, and 
 to him I would go to bury my gold under his 
 hearth and let it remain there until I could 
 convey it safely to Louisville. This resolu 
 tion cheered me, and I touched the old horse 
 into a trot. 
 
 It was yet a long distance to Champ's, but 
 by nine o'clock the next day I came out of the 
 woods, within sight of the cabin. From the 
 chimney there came no smoke; the old man 
 was not in the yard, skinning a mink; the 
 place looked deserted. I got out at the gate 
 and started toward the cabin, but a low 
 mound beside the path attracted my atten 
 tion, and looking closer I read Champ's name 
 on a pine head-board. I sat down on a 
 stump, and long I mused there. But I did 
 not alter my intention of burying the gold 
 under his hearthstone, and I did so as quickly 
 as possible. Then brushing off the soil that 
 still was clinging to me, I drove toward the 
 professor's house. Ah, how different every 
 thing looked, in a spiritual way! Over the 
 fields I glanced with a sort of pride, knowing 
 that I could buy them, and in the road I met 
 an old man who had always been called rich. 
 He did not recognize me, but I nodded to 
 him and muttered, "Poor old pauper!" But 
 further along there was a material change, a
 
 CONCLUSION 385 
 
 big white house on a hill; and while slowly I 
 was driving by, a man standing at a gate 
 called out to me, and I recognized Captain 
 Kirkpatrick. He rushed up, seized me by the 
 hand, and urged me to go up to the big white 
 house, his home. 
 
 "No, not now, I thank you. I am anxious 
 to" 
 
 "Yes, I understand. You will find her just 
 the same." 
 
 "But a little more contained," I suggested. 
 
 "Oh, yes, for she teaches a school now, not 
 far from where Hoover's church was burned 
 down. And by the way, he has re-built and is 
 holding forth every Sunday. And I am going 
 to open a school pretty soon am going to 
 give Nan a position, and if you so desire, you 
 may finish your education with me." 
 
 I thanked him, just as much as I should 
 have done years ago, and then added, "But 
 the fact is, I am well prepared and may go 
 through Harvard." 
 
 "You don't tell me. Let me congratulate 
 you." 
 
 We shook hands again, and he told me that 
 I not only looked learned, but prosperous. 
 Ah, old gold, you shine through, don't you? 
 They call you a thief, and can prove it; they 
 say you are a murderer, and you are; but 
 they know that you are a glory, and they wor 
 ship you.
 
 386 " TURK " 
 
 After a few more words, inquiries concern 
 ing the welfare of Mrs. Kirkpatrick and the 
 boy, I was about to drive "on, when the cap 
 tain said, "I suppose you stopped back yonder 
 to look at your land." 
 
 "Look at my land! I didn't know I owned 
 any land." 
 
 'Didn't you? Is it possible that you were 
 unaware of the fact that Champ Jones made 
 you his heir?" 
 
 "I didn't know he was dead until just now 
 when I saw his grave." 
 
 "Indeed! He died about eight months ago, 
 and just before that event made his will in 
 your favor, leaving to you the cabin and a few 
 acres of land, all he possessed." 
 
 On my own premises had I buried my gold! 
 
 From the captain's house to the professor's 
 was but a short drive, nor did I seek to make 
 it shorter by touching up the horse. My 
 mind was full of the past, and sweetly was I 
 dreaming of the hard days of my bondage. 
 Over there was the field wherein I was plow 
 ing when Nick Bowles first came into view, 
 and farther away, marked by tall trees, was 
 the place where Mose and Tab had whipped 
 me almost to death. 
 
 Neither the professor's house nor the imme 
 diate surroundings had undergone any marked 
 alteration. There was the swing hanging 
 from the great tree in the yard, the carpenter
 
 'HE SEIZED HOLD OF ME
 
 CONCLUSION 387 
 
 shop, the althaea bushes, the corner whence I 
 had rushed forth to fire the derringers; ah, 
 and there was the soldier himself, walking up 
 and down, dressed in uniform, but with no 
 sword to cleave the air above my head. He 
 halted and raised his eyes as my wagon rat 
 tled up to the gate, but not recognizing me, 
 turned to resume his walk. Then I hailed 
 him. 
 
 "Eh?" he said, "eh?" coming forward, strain 
 ing his eyes, for they were not so good as they 
 had been. "Eh, well, well, as I am alive!" I 
 jumped out, and he seized hold of me, shook 
 me, and called loudly over his shoulder, 
 "Louise, come out here. I've captured the 
 worst rebel in all the land." 
 
 Mrs. Emory came running out, wiping her 
 eyes even before she got to me, and she put 
 her arms about my neck, and the professor 
 called out, "That's right, give it to him," and 
 then, wiping his own eyes, he said, "I am 
 going to plant tobacco over yonder. But 
 what is the use of standing here?" 
 
 We went into the house and sat down by 
 the fire. They told me that Nan had not 
 come from her school, and I thought of offer 
 ing to go with my wagon to fetch her, but, still 
 afraid, though gold had made me strong, I 
 refrained. We ate dinner as of old, discuss 
 ing everything but the war; and afterward, 
 biding the time when Nan should return, I
 
 388 " TURK " 
 
 walked about the place. There on the 
 smokehouse door were the faded marks, the 
 calls for my circulating library, and fondly 
 and yet rather sadly I made another mark. 
 
 It was almost dark when Nan came home. 
 Her mother was in the yard, and I heard her 
 say, "Oh, you can't guess who's come," and 
 the witch replied: 
 
 "Yes, I can. Nobody but Turk." 
 
 She shook hands with me, complimented 
 me on my appearance, saying that she hadn't 
 supposed that clothes could help me so much, 
 and, mischievously looking at my thin boots, 
 she asked me if I had exchanged with Adju 
 tant Bloodgood. Ah, and how riotously 
 beautiful she was! and so compelling that I 
 thought to tell her of my gold her gold if 
 she desired it; but then something, a common 
 sense which I had never before possessed, 
 whispered to me to wait, to find out how 
 much she thought of me for myself alone. 
 
 It was a happy evening, there by the cheer 
 ful fire; and when bedtime came, Mrs. Emory 
 said that I was to be shown to the guest's 
 chamber, but Nan objected. "No," she 
 begged, "let him sleep in his old place 
 to-night." I decided with her, and Mrs. 
 Emory slowly yielded. 
 
 When I had bade them all good-night, the 
 professor and his wife going a little time 
 before I took leave of Nan, I went up to my
 
 CONCLUSION 389 
 
 old garret and there on my box was a book 
 and a candle, and on the book lay a piece of 
 paper on which was written, "God bless you." 
 I turned to go back down the stairs, but I had 
 to feel my way, so dim was everything, and 
 there was Nan, sitting by the dying fire with 
 her hands over her face. I touched her hair, 
 but she didn't look up, but shivered and said 
 nothing. "And all these years you have been 
 putting those books there, and I thought it 
 was Amy." She looked up, and my arms 
 were about her, and her lips were warm 
 against mine. "And all my life I have loved 
 you," she said, there by the dying fire.
 
 
 THE? _ 
 
 Standard Library of Mystery 
 
 PRACTICAL ASTROLOGY~~ 
 
 By COMTE C. DE SAINT-GERMAIN, the recognized leading 
 authority on all occult subjects. A plain, practical thorough 
 work on this all absorbing topic. Over 100 illustrations. 
 
 Cloth, special cover in colors, $1-<K> 
 
 Paper, lithographed cover in five colors, . . . .50 
 
 THE STUDY OF PALMISTRY 
 
 For Professional Purposes and Advanced Pupils 
 By COMTE C. DE SAINT-GERMAIN. The highest, authority on 
 Palmistry. This excellent work was formerly issued in two 
 volumes at 97.50. New edition, two volumes bound in one 
 superb imperial octavo volume. 
 Silk cloth, polished top, 1200 illustrations, . . 83.5O 
 
 PRACTICAL PALMISTRY A new edition (65th thousand) 
 
 By COMTE C. DE SAINT-GERMAIN, author of that standard 
 authority, The Study of Palmistry. Hand-reading made 
 easy and popular. 
 
 Cloth, 71 illustrations, among them 16 hands of 
 celebrities, unique cover, 75c 
 
 PRACTICAL HYPNOTISM. Theories. Experiments, Fu!l Instructions 
 By COMTE C. DE SAINT-GERMAIN. From the works of the 
 great medical authorities on the subject. Clear, simple 
 style that will interest everybody. How to produce and to 
 stop Hypnotic Sleep. How to cure disease by its use, 
 Cloth, cover in gold and ink (47 Illustrations), . . 75c 
 
 Hf RRMANN THE GREAT; The Famous Magician's Tricks 
 
 By H. J. BUHLINQAME. Illustrated. Scores of explanations 
 of the most puzzling tricks of the greatest of all conjurers, 
 never before published. All apparatus described. 
 Cloth, special cover design in colors, .... 75c 
 
 THE GREAT DREAM BOOK 
 
 By MADAME CARLOTTA DE BARST. With a New List of 
 
 Lucky Numbers. Brilliant explanations of all possible dreams. 
 
 Cloth, unique cover, extra half-tone, .... 75c 
 
 TWENTIETH CENTURY FORTUNE TELLER 
 
 By MADAME CARLOTTA DE BARST. Strange revelations 
 through the Magic Circle. Every possible event foretold. 
 Cloth, extra half-tone, unique cover, .... 70c 
 
 THE SPIRIT WORLD UNMASKED 
 
 By H. R. EVANS. Tricks and frauds of clairvoyants, mind 
 readers, slate writers, etc., fearlessly exposed. Life and 
 work of Madame Blavatsky. Illustrated. 
 12mo, extra cloth, burnished top, 75e 
 
 For sale everywhere, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, by 
 
 LAIRD 4 LEE, )?",. CHICAGO, U.S.A. 

 
 UC SOUTHERN EGIONAL L BRAR FACILITY 
 
 A A 000282228 6 
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 MAY G) :. 
 
 
 APR 2 & '^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 C/39 
 
 UCSD Libr.