ctabe C&anet 
 
 KNITTERS IN THE SUN. Stories. 
 i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 OTTO T H E K N I G H T, and other Stories. 
 i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT 
 
 AND OTHER TRANS-MISSISSIPPI 
 STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 OCTAVE THANET 
 
 AUTHOR OF "KNITTERS IN THE SUN," AND "EXPIATION 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 fltfe tftoersi&e 
 
 1891 
 

 cr 
 
 Copyright, 1891, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. 8. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 OTTO THE KNIGHT 1 
 
 THE CONJURED KITCHEN ...... 59 
 
 THE FIRST MAYOR 89 
 
 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK 136 
 
 LOAF OF PEACE 160 
 
 DAY OF THE CYCLONE 181 
 
 /TRUSTY, No. 49 216 
 
 /THE PLUMB IDIOT 262 
 
 X THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE 285 
 
 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY 310 
 
 " Sist Chaney s Black Silk " and " The Conjured Kitchen " 
 are reprinted from "Harper s Bazar" by permission of the 
 publishers. 
 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 AUNT BETSEY GRAHAM, who kept the planta 
 tion tavern, stood in her wide gallery-way, wait 
 ing for the mill whistle to send her boarders to 
 supper. 
 
 There was not a kinder woman in Lawrence 
 County, or, in a homely fashion, a better cook. 
 
 Look at her, now, in the shadow of the old- 
 fashioned porch, built when bears were shot in 
 the cypress brake : her portly form is clad in a 
 red and black striped cotton gown and white 
 apron ; her gray hair is as thick as a girl s, her 
 little brown eyes twinkle jovially, the hardy late 
 roses bloom on her tanned cheeks, and nobody 
 on the plantation has such beautiful, white, store 
 teeth. 
 
 She sees the road, a broad, then a narrow, 
 then a fading streak of yellow, cutting the cot 
 ton-fields and defining the borders of the brake. 
 Some of the houses that she sees are trig and 
 painted ; some have crooked, dark roofs, and 
 chimneys bulging side wise against black-gray 
 
g; . , , ; c JTTG THE KNIGHT. 
 
 walls. It is the old South and the new. Look 
 ing obliquely to the right, she sees the smithy 
 under its great "water oaks," and, almost at 
 right angles, the carpenter shop and the gaunt 
 black shape of the old mill. Further down the 
 river bank is the new mill, which has men 
 crawling over its roof and rings with the click 
 of hammers. 
 
 But soon Aunt Betsey s eyes returned to Otto 
 Knipple, splitting wood just in front of the 
 porch. She thought, sorrowfully, that he would 
 never make out with that hickory ; but what 
 could you expect of a boy raised in St. Louis 
 and come down to the Black Eiver with those 
 " ornery," trifling St. Louis carpenters ? 
 
 Otto was a scrap of a lad, carrying a prema 
 ture age in his sallow, careworn, eager little 
 features, that were the sallower and more eager 
 for his mat of sunburned white hair and his 
 big, melancholy blue eyes. 
 
 " An so " Aunt Betsey was pursuing a 
 conversation already begun " so you paw s 
 dead, but you Uncle Bruno, he holps ye all ? " 
 
 " 1 guess we d be in the poorhouse, if he 
 didn t," said Otto. "He got me this chance. 
 Mr. Basse tt s a Knight, like my uncle." 
 
 " A witch ? " 
 
 " A Knight of Labor, you know." 
 
 " Never heerd on em," said Aunt Betsey, 
 placidly. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 3 
 
 Otto straightened himself, his eyes flashing 
 and his narrow chest swelling 1 . 
 
 " You ain t ! " he cried ; " why, they re jest 
 the grandest order ever was ! They re going to 
 make all the bad rich people quit oppressing 
 the poor, and make all diff rent laws" 
 
 " Oh, sorter like the Ku-Klux ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, mum, not a bit like the Ku-Klux. 
 They are all good men, and they shall make all 
 the poor people own their own property, and 
 Uncle Bruno kin come home at four o clock " 
 
 " Sekrit soci ty, hey ? " 
 
 " They ve got to be, mum ; cause else them 
 bloated capitalists would find out all their 
 plans." 
 
 "That ar sounds powerful like Ku-Klux," 
 said Aunt Betsey, critically. " They all was 
 mighty biggity, but I never seen nuthin come 
 er thar braggs cept folkses ketchin cole, ro- 
 mancin roun nights, by the dark of the moon. 
 I know all baout them sekrit soci ties. I read 
 a book baout em oncet. Thar was a man taken 
 a oath on a skull, wilst two men hilt dadgers 
 over him iz was dreepin with jore. War n t 
 that orful ? " 
 
 " Yes, mum ; please go on ! " cried Otto, re 
 veling in the lurid picture. 
 
 " By the fitful gleam er a dyin lamp," Aunt 
 Betsey continued. " Must of ben one er them 
 
4 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 grease lamps, they re allers devilin someway. 
 I disremember jes vvhut t was he swore, but I 
 know his ha r, iz was black like the ravin s wing, 
 turned plum w ite in a single night. His folks 
 did n t know him. But he hollers out (in a hol 
 ler voice, the book said) I done kep my vow ! * 
 an he jes natchelly died er sorrer right thar." 
 
 " Why for ? " exclaimed Otto, rather startled. 
 
 " Kase he had ter do sich a sight er killin ; 
 some on em the folks he set most store by. But 
 he cud n t holp it, kase he d of ben false ter 
 the fatil vow an ben a fool traiter. That s 
 what the book said. My, my, my ! I wisht I d 
 of kep that book. T had a sorter purplish 
 back an right big print, an my word, Otter 
 Kay nipple, how ye done bust them pants ! " 
 screamed Aunt Betsey, as her eye got its first 
 full view of Otto s figure ; " it s lucky I got a 
 pa r ready fur ye. You wait ! " 
 
 She turned her broad back on the boy to 
 reach into the gallery for something, which, 
 presently shaken out, revealed itself as a pair 
 of blue flannel trousers, decked with crimson 
 streamers. 
 
 " Thar, store pants an gallowses ! Make 
 haste an putt em on ! " 
 
 The boy, red with pleasure, could hardly 
 stammer, " Oh, ain t they beautiful ! Who gave 
 em to me?" 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 5 
 
 " Waal, he said not to tell." 
 
 All the glow faded out of the lad s radiant 
 face. "I know. It was Mr. Dake," he said 
 sullenly. "I m much obliged to him, but I 
 cayn t take em." 
 
 His voice shook over the last words, while, 
 apparently not daring to trust himself to look 
 on the dazzling temptation, he flung his axe 
 down and fled across the grass. 
 
 "A-bustiii his pants at ev ry lick!" was 
 Aunt Betsey s comment, eying the wild little 
 ragged shape ; " an he ain t got nare nuther 
 pa r on earth, nur nuthin ter mend em with 
 cept pins ! " 
 
 She shook her head dolefully, and carried the 
 rejected gift into the house. 
 
 In a large unplastered room a table was 
 spread before an enormous fireplace, bare and 
 black now, since the Arkansas spring sun is 
 warm. 
 
 Marty Ann, Aunt Betsey s daughter, was plac 
 ing the squirrel stew on the table, and Baby Boo, 
 the one little orphan grandchild of the house, 
 was already in the high chair that Dake the 
 carpenter had made for her, reaching perilously 
 after the custard pie. Those sturdy little legs 
 and arms of Boo s (or more properly, Elizabeth 
 North Carolina s) were only quiet when she was 
 asleep ; but 110 lover of children could see her 
 
6 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 restless, curly brown head and shining eyes and 
 sweet little round face so dimpled and rosy, 
 without wanting to kiss the pretty lump. Pos 
 sibly, were the lover a man, he might feel a like 
 inclination concerning her aunt, who also had 
 curly brown hair with red gleams in it, and 
 sparkling dark eyes ; and whose thinner, oval 
 face kept a childish and innocent charm in 
 the soft, fine skin, pure coloring, and smooth 
 curves. As her light figure moved about, she 
 showed an artless kind of grace, such as these 
 forest people often have. She wore a fresh 
 white apron over her blue cotton frock, and had 
 a bit of white lace and a knot of blue ribbon 
 at her throat. 
 
 " Well, maw, what is it ? " said Marty Ann, 
 noticing a slight pucker at the corners of Aunt 
 Betsey s eyelids. "Do you reckon that light 
 bread is a little sad ? " 
 
 " Law me, naw, Marty Ann, I was jis studyin 
 baout Dake an that Dutch boy. He p intedly 
 won t take them pants." 
 
 " Then I d let him go bare," said Marty Ann, 
 carelessly. 
 
 "He are baout that a ready," Aunt Betsey 
 chuckled, recalling Otto s figure running. 
 " Waal, I cayn t cipher it out, nohow. Thar s 
 Dake doin oodles er things fur Otter, lettin 
 him sleep in his room t the store, an a sight 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 7 
 
 more, but Otter won t have no truck with Dake. 
 Wonder w y." 
 
 " If I was Mr. Dake I d find out, or I d 
 quit fooling with Otto one ! " 
 
 " You mought, Marty Ann ; but Dake, he are 
 a patient, long-suffrin critter, an terrible kind 
 tew children. Look a how he muches Boo ! " 
 
 Marty Ann s pretty chin went up in a signifi 
 cant tilt, as she answered, " Other folks much 
 Boo, too. Say, maw, did ye ever hear anything 
 bout Mr. Dake s wife and child ? " 
 
 " Nuthin , cept iz how they is dead." 
 
 " Well, / heard how he deserted his wife, and 
 ayfterwards he tried for to steal the child." 
 
 " Shucks ! " retorted the old woman with dis 
 dain ; " you heard from Bassett, I bet a bale er 
 cotton. I wisht ye wud n t take up with that ar 
 feller, honey. He kin w ar store clozes an 
 julery an mock plain folkses talkin ; but he 
 ain t got no real merits like Dake. Nur he don t 
 set haff the store by ye. But ye jes toll em on. 
 Ye got sorter mean turn with men persons, 
 Marty Ann." 
 
 She shook a moralizing and reproving head 
 at her daughter ; but, in so doing, she happened 
 to look out of the window, and what she saw 
 made her forget the lecture. " Marty Ann, 
 come yere," she exclaimed ; " thar s a tumble 
 to-do at the new mill ! " 
 
8 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 Marty Ann, looking over her shoulder, could 
 see the St. Louis carpenters standing around two 
 horsemen, the owners of the plantation, Mr. 
 Francis and young Caroll. Topping the crowd 
 was Bassett s handsome black head. He gesticu 
 lated furiously, and Marty Ann, too far away to 
 distinguish words, could hear the angry rumble 
 of his voice. 
 
 A short, slim man looked on, a little apart ; 
 and impassively stroked his mustache. 
 
 ^ Dear, dear, dear ! " ejaculated Aunt Betsey, 
 " ain t that Bassett a r arin an chargin I An 
 look a Dake, cam s a stone statchuarv mv 
 Lord!" 
 
 The old woman leaned out of the open window 
 in her eagerness, when she saw Bassett fling the 
 crowd to either side and aim a swinging blow at 
 Dake. Dake dodged. Simultaneously, a thin 
 line of light flashed in his hand. " He s drored 
 is gun on him!" cried tender-hearted Aunt 
 Betsey. My Lord, I hope they won t fight. 
 Dodge aliind the winder with the baby, Marty 
 Ann! I are so int rested, someways I don t 
 guess I 11 git hit, Naw, ye need n t, Mist Car- 
 oil s putt is hoss atween em. Good for you, 
 boy ! Now, they re all goin way. Do look a 
 that Otter tryin ter take big steps like the 
 men ! Waal, fightin or no fightin , they 11 want 
 t eat ; so less f otch in the coffee." 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 9 
 
 The four St. Louis men trooped noisily into 
 the house, omitting their customary toilet at the 
 pump. But Dake took his towel down from the 
 nail and went out there. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Graham," said Bassett, who 
 passed for a wag and a man of ready wit, " git 
 out your handkerchief, the Sam Eller s round 
 ing the Bend and we re going off on her." 
 
 " Reckon I better git out the bill" answered 
 Aunt Betsey, dryly. "Say, whut you all ben 
 doin ?" 
 
 " We ve given the old man the grand bounce," 
 Bassett said, taking his place at the table ; 
 " we re not going to be bossed any longer by a 
 d scab. If Francis wants us back, he 11 have 
 to bounce Dake, that s all." 
 
 " What did Dake do tew ye ? " 
 
 A quiet-looking man explained, " He ain t 
 done nothing to us, ma am ; but he sold out a 
 strike once, and he was a Knight of Labor and 
 spoiled a boycott." 
 
 " Well, all I say is, just give me another 
 chance at the d traitor," said Bassett. " Bet 
 ye he dassent show his ugly mug round here." 
 
 The unexpected answer to this was Dake s 
 entrance. 
 
 The head carpenter s mild blue eyes and thin 
 brown face bore no marks of agitation. He sat 
 down calmly, in his seat next to Boo, and began 
 to cut up the child s food. 
 
10 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 Bassett glowered at him across the table. To 
 be defied by a man of such puny sinews was a 
 blister on the giant s vanity. " I despise a scab, 
 don t you, boys ? " said he, loudly. 
 
 But here Aunt Betsey lifted a fine round 
 voice. " You hush, Mist Bassett ! I ain t goin 
 ter have no sich fool talk afore Marty Ann an 
 the baby. Nur I won t have 110 men persons 
 holler in an fightin in my haouse like a passle 
 er wild haogs. Ef I hear ary nuther ill word, 
 Marty Ann an me 11 git up an light out an 
 we 11 cyar the victuals with us ! " 
 
 " Give us a rest, Jim," said one of the men. 
 " I want to eat my supper." And another added 
 in a surly tone, " Don t you know there is a heap 
 of fellows with guns and knives in this cussed 
 swamp? You 11 be having them all down on 
 us!" 
 
 " Who s afraid ? " sneered Bassett ; but he 
 said no more, and the meal went on in a sulky 
 truce. When the men rose, he lingered in the 
 gallery to settle the bill. Dake followed the St. 
 Louis men out on the porch. He held Boo in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Boys," said he, clearing his throat, " I dare 
 say it ain t no use for me to tell you there s been 
 a lot of lies told to you " 
 
 " No, it ain t," said the surly man. 
 
 " All the same, have I ever treated a man 
 among you mean in any way ? " 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 11 
 
 The men had halted on the steps so that they 
 faced the head carpenter ; the quiet-looking man 
 answered : " That ain t the point ; we ain t got 
 no use for a man that sides with the bosses 
 against his friends. I don t believe in licking 
 you, like Jim ; but I don t want no truck with 
 you, and that s the fact." 
 
 Dake made no reply ; he stood on the porch, 
 holding Boo in his arms. The murmur of voices 
 from the gallery reached him, soft bursts of 
 laughter shaded by deeper tones. 
 
 Dake held Boo s small palm close to his 
 cheek ; now and then he would take it away to 
 kiss it. 
 
 Suddenly he put the baby down and strode 
 into the gallery, where Bassett was holding 
 Marty Ann while he kissed her hair in default 
 of her face, which had dodged under the shelter 
 of her shoulder. 
 
 " I won t ! I won t ! " shrieked Marty Ann, 
 laughing and crying at once ; " you re real 
 mean ! I told you I had n t made up my 
 mind. Lemme go ! " 
 
 " Let her go," said Dake. 
 
 " You dassent hit me," said Bassett, tighten 
 ing his clasp. 
 
 The two men glared at each other for the 
 briefest instant, a space of time to be contained 
 within the flash of an eye or the click of a pistol 
 
12 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 trigger just behind Bassett s ear, before Dake s 
 tone of concentrated fury seemed a part of that 
 fine cold rim pressing on Bassett s brain : 
 
 " I don t mean to hit you. Let her go, you 
 brute, or I 11 kill you ! " 
 
 Then Bassett did loosen his hold enough for 
 Marty Ann to wriggle herself free, crying: 
 " Oh, please don t hurt him, he was only 
 fooling ! " 
 
 " Get along, now," said Dake. 
 
 The carpenters, outside, ignorant of their 
 comrade s plight, were bawling for him to 
 hurry. 
 
 Bassett flung his clenched fist sidewise as he 
 ran. 
 
 " I ain t through with you yet, Bill Dake," he 
 shouted. " I 11 git you where I want you, some 
 day, and your d popgun won t help you, 
 then ! " 
 
 "Great Scott, Jim," yelled a voice, "the 
 boat s whistling! Say, write your girl the 
 rest." 
 
 Dake, who had advanced again to the porch, 
 was in time to hear Bassett cry, " I will ! " and to 
 see him clear the steps with a jump that had 
 nearly landed him on the grass head foremost, 
 for^he tumbled over Otto Knipple. Under the 
 lad s arm was a bundle done up in a newspaper, 
 too small to cover the contents. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 13 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Bassett, " you ain t going ? " 
 
 "Ain t I?" cried the boy, eagerly; "ain t I 
 going to strike ? " 
 
 Bassett muttered something too low for Dake s 
 ears. Then, " Yes, I m coming, d you ! " he 
 shouted, and ran after the others. 
 
 Dake watched him, sombrely, until a sniff and 
 a gurgle diverted his gaze to Otto, who was wip 
 ing his eyes with the knuckles of his forefingers 
 and choking with sobs. 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! " said Dake. 
 
 He walked towards the shabby little figure ; 
 but after looking at it intently he seemed to 
 change his mind, and going back whispered a 
 sentence in Boo s ears instead. Boo danced 
 gayly off to the boy. And he, kissing her and 
 drying his wet cheeks on her soft hair, felt a 
 vague comfort that perhaps Dake missed as he 
 walked down into the brake, alone. 
 
 After a while he sat down on a log, and in 
 spite of his heavy heart, the beauty of the scene 
 won his eye. In the later spring a cypress 
 brake is a sumptuous revel of color. The fern- 
 like cypress foliage and the short limbs above 
 the high trunk make the tree seem more like a 
 gigantic plant than a tree. The water in the 
 brake is a mass of lily pads, and spattered with 
 yellow cow lilies. The cypress roots are beau 
 tiful with moss. Even the hideous " knees " 
 
14 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 that spike the ground are transformed ; painted 
 by this magical brush of spring a dull pink, 
 with the texture and gloss of satin, they show 
 like fairy tents among the lilies. Crimson 
 blooms on the maple boughs, rich tones of red 
 on post-oak leaves, brilliant green leaves on the 
 huge gum-trees, a scarlet gleam from the " buck 
 eye " flowers, a flush of pink on a " red bud " 
 tree, terraces of white dogwood blossoms against 
 gray-green bark, the eye is lured by them 
 through all the gamut of color, whether they 
 dapple the clumps of cypress greenery, or hatch 
 the pale joints of the " elbow brush," or fleck 
 the forest shadow with brightness. 
 
 Where Dake sat, the brake climbed up into 
 the higher ground, ceasing thereby to be the 
 brake. The river makes a blunt and wide inci 
 sion, variously named " The bay " and " The big 
 bayou ; " and the un wooded bank on the swamp 
 side forms a kind of rude levee, which the an 
 cient tradition of the bottom avers existed be 
 fore the Spaniards or the French. Doubtless it 
 is a relic of that mysterious, prehistoric race 
 whose mounds are scattered through the Black 
 River valley. 
 
 The levee was green, the short-lived Arkansas 
 grass covering it with velvet ; only, it was not 
 altogether green, because the spring had bespat 
 tered it with blue and yellow-white from violets, 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 15 
 
 cinqnefoil, and oxalis. The water of the bay 
 glittered softly like an opal; for the sun was 
 setting, and shifting hues, red and purple and 
 gold, were burning in the river as in the sky. 
 
 Dake, who had learned to love this landscape, 
 turned from it with a kind of groan. " Lord, I 
 hate things to be so pretty when I m so miser 
 able," said he to himself. "I was a fool to 
 dream she d get to liking me. Soon s the mill s 
 done I 11 get out. I 11 go " he tried to laugh 
 
 "I 11 go and get drunk ! " 
 
 A sound that was not the echo of his laughter 
 
 although that was harsh enough made him 
 start. " Pshaw, it s nothing but a hog," he 
 said aloud. 
 
 " Naw, t ain t a haog," answered a voice out 
 of the brake, between grunts of exhaustion, 
 44 hit s me ! " 
 
 With a mighty push Aunt Betsey rent a tan 
 gle of muscadine vine in twain and emerged, 
 puffing and disheveled but smiling, and bearing 
 aloft a plate of custard pie. " Waal, suttinly 
 this yere slash is pesky bad walkin ! " she 
 panted. " I seen ye lightin out an ye had n t 
 teched you pie, so I jes gethered a piece an run 
 ayfter ye. Thar," said the kind creature, who 
 perhaps had noticed more than Dake s lack 
 of appetite, " rest you plate on the log an eat. 
 T -night them St. Louis men eat like their stum- 
 
16 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 micks was a cotton baskit, faster ye throw hit in, 
 the better. Bless the Lord fur victuals, I says, 
 an don gredge the time t eat em ! " 
 
 She watched Dake eat, talking on cheerfully, 
 yet with a wistful gleam in her eye. " I kin 
 tell ye, I are plum glad ter get shet er they all, 
 specially that Bassett. He war too biggetty ; 
 stepped s high s a blin hoss. An how he wud 
 lie ! Lie iz easy iz ye kin bat you eye. What do 
 ye reckon he tole baout you ? I says t Marty 
 Ann, I aimed tew tell ye, kase ye d orter knaw." 
 
 Dake put his plate on the ground ; luckily he 
 had finished the pie, since he had no appetite for 
 more now. 
 
 " I most wish I had shot him," he muttered. 
 
 " Aw naw, ye don t," said Aunt Betsey, sooth 
 ingly. " I ben lowin fur a right smart I d jes 
 ax ye pintblank baout you wife and chile. Then 
 I cud talk up to Marty Ann, ye understand." 
 
 Dake sometimes addressed Aunt Betsey as 
 mother, in his English fashion. " I d be glad 
 to, mother," said he. The story that he told his 
 sympathizing listener was not uncommon : a 
 young English artisan coming to America to 
 " better himself," and there marrying a pretty, 
 ambitious, vulgar American, who has brought 
 sufficient tawdry education from her high school 
 to despise her plain husband, but is quite helpless 
 to understand his moral aspirations. Dake had 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 17 
 
 never complained of her during their discordant 
 married life ; he said nothing now of her fret- 
 fulness, her hysterical impatience with poverty 
 and perpetual nagging him for not earning more 
 money. He showed Aunt Betsey the picture of 
 their little one, a boy. " Elsie was a good 
 mother," said he. After he had carefully re 
 placed the photograph he went on ; " Well, 
 mother, we d been married five years, and if 
 married life was n t jest all I d looked for ard to, 
 still we got on with tjje rest, and I daresay as 
 much my fanlt as hers, if not ; and we both 
 thought the world of the boy. Then, this is W 
 the trouble come. I d always belonged to the 
 union " 
 
 "Sekrit soci ty?" said Aunt Betsey, sternly, 
 lifting up a fat forefinger in the manner of an 
 exclamation point. 
 
 " Why, certainly ; they all are. Well, I have 
 a good friend, Bob Tomlin by name. Nobody 
 was more interested in trades unions than we 
 were, nor gave more money. That was one 
 thing fretted poor Elsie. But we got disgrun 
 tled, after a while. A lot of hot-headed blow- 
 hards got the upper hand, and sent us on fool 
 strikes till we were mad. It s kinder hard on a 
 good workman who can always command good 
 wages to stay idle a third of his time cause a 
 few hot-heads are dissatisfied. By and by come 
 
18 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 the big strike over the boss taking on some non 
 union men. Bob and I did our best to prevent 
 that strike ; but when t was no use we went out 
 peaceful. Tomlin had a lot of sickness in his 
 family and his savings run low, so he went to 
 the secretary for help. What do ye suppose 
 they told him ? Why, jest that he d a cabinet 
 organ and a Brussels carpet, and the help must 
 go to them as needed it. But, says Bob, 
 Cowles gits elp reg lar! You must know, 
 mother, that this Cowles was a drunken rip and 
 keen for the strike. Well, they* said, Cowles 
 needed it, he d nothing laid by. At that, Bob, 
 who s a bit asty though the best earted fel 
 ler, he loses his temper and cussed em. And 
 I in to mortgage my house to pay Hal Cowles s 
 strikes, am I ? says he. 1 m d d if I do ! 
 says he. And he went back to work that very 
 day, but before the week was out they fetched 
 him ome on a shutter." 
 
 " I knowed hit," cried Aunt Betsey ; " t war 
 the sekrit soci ty. War he cut onywhar with 
 dadgers an sich ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, only pommeled. He was round in 
 a week ; but that got my mad up, too, and 
 well, the strike failed, and they laid it on us." 
 
 " Did n t they try fur to kill ye ? " 
 
 " They talked pretty rough, but I got a re 
 volver, and when a gang of them set on me, I 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 19 
 
 shot one fellow in the leg. They did n t com 
 plain of me to the police ; but after that they 
 served me out other ways. You don t know it, 
 of course, but those big strikes mostly end the 
 same way. The old men come back, beaten or 
 not. And the bosses, after swearing by all that s 
 holy to keep on the non-union men that have 
 come in and helped them through, they begin to 
 quietly weed the scabs out and get their old men 
 back. You see, usually, the good workmen be 
 long to the union and they won t work with the 
 scabs, and the bosses find it cheapest to give 
 in, on the sly like. And the unions promise big, 
 and so the poor devil of a scab goes by the board. 
 That s the way they treated me. I went to two 
 or three cities, but I could n t get work, having 
 no union ticket ; but I got a good job out in 
 the country and went home for my wife to take 
 her out. We d been having words, she wanting 
 me to make it up with the union ; but still I did n t 
 suspect nothing. Mother, she was gone. Her 
 folks her father and brothers were union 
 men, and they persuaded her to leave me. She 
 went off and she got a bill of divorce for de 
 sertion and non-support, though I d sent her 
 three fourths of my money. And, next thing I 
 knew, she was married to a walking delegate, a 
 fellow that gets a big salary for bossing rows." 
 
 "Waal, the triflin , deceitful critter!" said 
 Aunt Betsey. 
 
20 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 " I expect Bassett told ye I stole my child. I 
 tried to ; but there was a hue and cry, and they 
 got him way from me. One policeman whacked 
 me over the head, and my poor boy cried. I 
 never saw him again, mother. They kept so 
 close I could n t find them. But every Christ 
 mas and birthday I d send a present for the 
 lad, what I thought he d like, to his grandfather, 
 and I asked him very civilly if he d only tell 
 me if the boy was well. But I never got a word 
 till he sent me a marked paper. My boy s 
 death was in it." 
 
 " Oh, ye pore, pore boy ! " said the old woman, 
 whose six tall sons were in their graves ; " an 
 the only chile ye got ? " 
 
 Dake nodded, shivering a little. " Yes, ma am, 
 that s so. I guess I d ave gone to the bad 
 then but for Tomlin and his wife. I d lost 
 everything, and it s awful, mother, the loneliness 
 when a man s own mates turn on him. I con 
 fess I took to the devil s comforter, drink. But 
 they got me out of it, God bless em. May be 
 I had ought to thank the Knights of Labor too, 
 for we both joined them bout that time." 
 
 " Another sekrit soci ty ? " cried Aunt Betsey. 
 " Ye onfortinate boy ! " 
 
 " Well, we pretty soon discovered that we d 
 got more fights on our hands than in the union ; 
 we d everybody else s wrongs to right as well as 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 21 
 
 our own. I m blessed if we did n t strike once 
 to help some cigar-makers, and the walking del 
 egate that come on to attend to the matter was 
 him my wife s usband. He went white s the 
 wall when he saw me, and marched off. The 
 next time I saw him he was bossing a boycott 
 on a poor widow woman who would n t turn a 
 scab carpenter out of her boarding-house. By 
 that time I did n t want no more Knights of La 
 bor in mine ; and I took sides with the widow. 
 So now the Knights are down on me." 
 
 " Ain t ye never seen her agin ? " said Aunt 
 Betsey. 
 
 " Jest once. I run up against her on the street 
 that same time. She looked most awful pale, 
 and wore mourning for him. When I saw 
 her that way, somehow I seemed to see her like 
 she d look nights when Willie was restless and 
 we d take turns walking him. She d ave the 
 baby s little ead on her shoulder, and her long 
 black braids hanging down her nightgown ; and 
 she walking and singing. My God, mother, a 
 man can t get over feeling something for the wo 
 man that s carried his baby in her arms ! El 
 sie, I says, don t look so frightened ; you ain t 
 got nothing to fear from me. Then the poor 
 thing cried and coughed, for she was dying 
 in consumption, she only lived three months af 
 ter that, and she said she did n t know where 
 
22 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 I was or she d ave told me bout Willie s sick 
 ness, and her father was mad, and so on. Poor 
 Elsie ! I never felt so bitter bout her again. I 
 felt cruel hard before. She told me all bout 
 our boy and sent me a bundle of his little things. 
 Poor Elsie ! Well, mother, there s the story. I 
 come down here to get rid of the Knights ; but 
 you see I have n t." He laughed drearily, as he 
 added, " They beat me, every way." 
 
 " Ye mean baout Marty Ann," said Aunt 
 Betsey, who had no false delicacy; "but ye 
 need n t feel so mightily down. Marty Ann s 
 kinder out o fix, now, but she s got a heap er 
 sense ; an she 11 see ; I 11 be you mother-in-law, 
 yit. So guv me a buss on that ! " 
 
 Dake kissed his homely comforter with a will ; 
 and she leaning on his arm, as if he had been the 
 son she hoped for, they went back to the house. 
 
 Mr. Francis took the strike very coolly. He 
 found some Arkansas carpenters, who worked 
 well enough under Dake s supervision. Young 
 Caroll made light of the whole affair. " That 
 Bassett was a chump," said he ; " he talked too 
 much with his mouth ; I m glad he s gone 
 well, children ? " 
 
 Otto said that he was only showing Boo the 
 red wagons in the store. 
 
 But evidently Boo had her own intentions ; 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 23 
 
 she twitched the boy s sleeve. " Boo oves tan- 
 dy," she observed with much sweetness of man 
 ner ; " tandy won t make Boo sick ! " 
 
 "Will you let her have one gumdrop, sir?" 
 said Otto. " I shall pay you out of my wages." 
 He flushed up to the eyes when Caroll tossed 
 him a handful of candy, and he pushed the par 
 ti-colored heap back, excepting one piece, say 
 ing, " I d like for to take more, sir, but I should 
 send all my money home that I kin." 
 
 " Oh, take them," said the young man ; " that s 
 all right ! " 
 
 Young Caroll had his clothes sent him from 
 his tailor in the North, he rode a fine horse, he 
 polished his finger nails, he never seemed in a 
 hurry ; Otto hated him. 
 
 Poor Otto, he deemed it his duty to hate 
 everybody that had very much money or very 
 much land. Just as his talk had a little twist 
 of German idiom, so that good anarchist, Un 
 cle Bruno (in very truth, one of the best of 
 men), had twisted his moral sense awry. He 
 was confident that not only did the rich inflict 
 hideous misery on the poor, they also gloated 
 over their victims humiliation. Tears of shame 
 and anger burned his eyeballs as he picked up 
 Boo (both fists full of sweets, but very loath to 
 go) and hurried out of the store. " He laughed 
 that I should not have enough to buy but one 
 
24 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 gtimdrop ! " he said between his teeth. And 
 innocent young Caroll was saying : " That s a 
 nice little fellow ; do you reckon Aunt Betsey 
 would make over my corduroys for him ? " 
 
 Otto passed by the new mill. He could hear 
 Mr. Dake whistling over his work. The head 
 carpenter had rigged up a workshop in the mill, 
 and worked there until late every night, making 
 a chest of drawers for Marty Ann. The chest 
 was to be a birthday present. Otto was not 
 above peeping through a crack, thereby seeing 
 very plainly that Dake was smiling. 
 
 " He thinks he has conquered," was Otto s 
 instant reflection, "and he shall have Bassett s 
 shaatz, too. Ya wohl, will he ? Denn muss ich 
 den Teufel anfiihren ! " 
 
 He shook his fist at the store ; " I despise the 
 scab, but the tyrant I hate ! " said Otto, who ad 
 mired the sounding phrases of his uncle s news 
 papers. " Yes, I was sorry, I hated to do it 
 even to bring the boys back ; but now you have 
 made me ory, look out ! " He laughed fiercely, 
 recalling a speech of Mr. Francis : " If the mill 
 had n t been so far along I should have been 
 bothered; for we must have the gin by Octo 
 ber." 
 
 " I will do it," said Otto. " They thought I 
 was a boy, I could n t help the strike. They will 
 see ! " 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 25 
 
 Little did Dake, still smiling over the chest of 
 drawers, imagine how important to him was this 
 soliloquy of Otto s ; he only thought of Marty 
 Ann and her possible pleasure. He laughed at 
 himself, but he knelt down and kissed handles 
 that might be touched by her fingers. 
 
 " Dearest lass, sweetest lass," he murmured. 
 "Oh, I d take such care of you, I d work so 
 hard ! And we d have the dear old mother and 
 Boo with us, and, may be " His eyes were 
 full of tears. " Oh, good Lord, can I be going 
 to be happy, after all ! " said he. 
 
 Yet surely Marty Ann s behavior had changed 
 to him. She was so kind and gentle, not mak 
 ing excuses to get away from him as she used to 
 do. And how pretty she would look up at him 
 if there was a little joke, to catch his eye ; and 
 what a sweet, sweet laugh she had ! 
 
 So a lover s hopes and fancies played a fairy 
 game through his head, until Mr. Francis s 
 voice broke the spell. To-day was an uninten 
 tional holiday, owing to an accident to a saw ; 
 and the planter meant to improve it by driving 
 the head carpenter about the plantation to dis 
 cuss future building. 
 
 The two men spent the day thus ; and did not 
 return until evening. The supper-room looked 
 bare to Dake without Marty Ann. Aunt Betsey 
 expkined that she had gone to see the new baby 
 
26 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 of a friend, " Cap n Bulah Griffin, on the yon 
 side the Creek." 
 
 " She laid out t cyar Boo, but she rode the 
 claybank, an he s sicher ill hoss, she dassent. 
 Boo begun tew beller when she seen er goin , 
 but Mis Francis come by an she tolled the bad 
 little trick off tew the new mill. An , by gum, 
 she ben thar the enjurin ev nin , play in doll 
 ouse with the boards, she an Otter n Lizzie 
 Vict ry an Seerayphine Dake. She putt See- 
 rayphine tew sleep an leff her thar fur the night." 
 
 Seerayphine Dake, be it explained, was not a 
 little live girl like Lizzie Victory, but a beauti 
 ful wax doll that could open and shut its eyes, 
 and cry in the most natural and affecting man 
 ner if you squeezed her stomach. Dake had 
 bought her in St. Louis and put her on the 
 Christmas tree for Boo. 
 
 " She did n t leave her," Otto spoke up with 
 an unaccountable flush, " I brought her home." 
 
 But Boo had not heard, being absorbed in a 
 new table pastime ; namely, tilting her spoon so 
 that the milk should trickle gently over the 
 point and form wee rivulets in the creases of her 
 oilcloth eating apron. 
 
 "Lammie," said her grandmother, placidly, 
 " quit that, or I 11 have t throw ye t the big 
 b ar ! Marty Ann lowed she d shore be back 
 by sundown, knowin iz I d be skeered up, the 
 hoss is so mean." 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 27 
 
 But the sun set, throwing no rays on the 
 " clay bank," or Marty Ann. 
 
 Aunt Betsey paced the gallery, declaring that 
 she did n t know " what got her, she jes taken 
 the all overs." Gradually, as the west dimmed 
 and the long shadows devoured the forest vistas, 
 leaving only the vast dark bulk of the swamp, 
 Dake s nerves felt the contagion. 
 
 " Like s not he ve throwed er," said Aunt 
 Betsey, " an thar she lays in the road, hollerin 
 on us. I are goin down a piece to look." 
 
 " And I guess I 11 go by the other road," 
 Dake said ; "she might take that." 
 
 He borrowed a horse from young Caroll, and 
 rode all the way to the Griffins . 
 
 Marty Ann had left their house before dark. 
 They were much concerned, and Jeff Griffin 
 wanted to join the search, but Dake assured him 
 that there was no need ; if Marty Ann was not 
 found before morning, he would send him word. 
 
 A sinister fear, very different from honest 
 Jeff s anxiety, goaded him both into this refusal 
 and his own feverish hunt. 
 
 That day one of the " renters " had told Mr. 
 Francis a long story of seeing Bassett in a little 
 town among the hills. " He sorter dodged outer 
 my way, but I knowed by his favor l t war him. 1 
 
 Now, why had Bassett come back ? Dake 
 1 Looks, appearance. 
 
28 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 would not confess to himself that he feared that 
 Marty Ann had gone secretly to meet him ; but 
 he rode madly through the brake, yelling her 
 name, and, being a poor horseman, might have 
 broken his neck over a cypress knee had not the 
 horse carried a cooler head than his rider. 
 
 Nobody answered his shouts until he came in 
 sight of the lights of the hamlet, when he heard 
 the peal of a horn, such as the stockmen use on 
 their rounds, and Aunt Betsey blew daily to 
 summon her boarders. 
 
 Approaching, he perceived first a lantern 
 swinging vigorously, then a ragged boy. 
 
 " Otto ! " he called. 
 
 " She s come back," shouted Otto ; " she lost 
 her way ! " 
 
 The relief which was Dake s first sensation 
 was succeeded by a revulsion of suspicion so cold 
 and biting that it turned him sick to the very 
 heart. A 
 
 " Go on back," said he ; " tell Aunt Betsey 
 I m going to the mill and won t be up." 
 
 He would not be fooled by another false 
 woman. A sentence that an old German, a for 
 mer member of a religious community in Iowa, 
 used to quote, kept running in his head: 
 " Woman is a magic fire." 
 
 Well, he was burned. He returned his horse 
 to the stable and tramped savagely over to the 
 mill. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 29 
 
 Lost in the swamp ? she that was born there ! 
 Yet the dominant instinct of fairness in Dake s 
 English blood would have its word. " She never 
 told me she cared for me," he groaned. " I only 
 imagined it. I ain t got no right to blame her." 
 
 He tried to work, but the contrast between 
 his frame of mind in the morning and now was 
 too bitter he threw his tools aside. 
 
 It may seem strange that Dake should decide 
 against himself on such meagre evidence ; but 
 his hopes had no vitality, they were cowed by 
 suffering. He sat a long while thinking, or 
 rather trying to think, for only visions of past 
 woe and betrayal would crowd into his brain. 
 At last he rose and betook himself to the store 
 where he lodged ; Otto and he occupying a 
 chamber in the second story together. 
 
 The store is a plantation s social centre. Dake 
 found the office full of men. The stove, gleam 
 ing in its summer coat of whitewash (which 
 saves blacking), made a convenient shelf for di 
 vers heels. Otto s heels did not aspire to the 
 stove ; his legs dangled from the window-sill 
 while he listened with a rapt air to Winter the 
 blacksmith s eulogy of Bassett s strength. 
 
 " The ox, he sulled," 1 thus the current of 
 Winter s eloquence flowed on, " an Jim jes 
 guv im one on the head ; knocked im plum 
 
 i Jibed, sulked. 
 
30 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 dead. 1 Tell ye I wud n t bunch rags 2 with 
 him ; I d cyar a gun handy, if I was Dake." 
 
 " That Bassett brags a right smart," said a 
 quiet, fair man, who looked like what he was, a 
 prosperous farmer, "but he lets off too much 
 steam to ever bust the b iler. He was fixin to 
 kill off Mist Dake an most of the Bend, mightly 
 briefly. R ared an charged on the boat, I m 
 tole, all the way to Newport. But we re all 
 movin , still." 
 
 " He 11 do us a meanness yit, Mist Shinault," 
 said Winter, gloomily. 
 
 Dake passed through the crowd, greeting them 
 briefly, and went up to his room. Very soon he 
 was followed by Otto. For a little time they 
 could hear the laughter and creaking of chair legs 
 and shuffling of heavy boots, then the gossips 
 departed in a body, and a deep hush succeeded. 
 
 The river lapped the bank like a thirsty dog. 
 Some wild creature of the swamp sent forth a 
 quavering, melancholy cry. Dake lay still in 
 his bed that he might not waken Otto. Otto 
 was feigning sleep lest he should be suspected 
 by Dake. 
 
 But the boy s flesh crept, his heart was thump 
 ing against his ribs : now, now at any minute 
 ach, Gott ! what was that ? 
 
 1 Senseless. 
 
 2 Fight. Negro expression, but used in jest by the whites. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 31 
 
 Hurried footsteps shook the wooden platform, 
 and a clamor of blows and shrieks filled the air. 
 
 Dake sat up in bed. " Seems to want to get 
 in," he observed coolly. " Say ! you down there, 
 don t beat the door down! We ll need it to 
 morrow." 
 
 A woman s voice screamed back: " Mist 
 Dake, Dake, come an holp us ! Boo done run 
 away ! " 
 
 It was Aunt Betsey s voice ; and nobody was 
 there except Aunt Betsey, pounding on the door 
 with a stick; clad in a remarkable toilet of 
 Marty Ann s gown slipped on by accident, there 
 fore knotted round the wearer s ample waist by 
 the sleeves, and a patchwork quilt for a shawl. 
 
 She panted out her story : how Marty Ann, 
 awakening suddenly, had missed Boo. 1 They 
 had searched the yard in vain. Now Marty 
 Ann had run to the river. 
 
 Otto interrupted the recital. "Her doll 
 the mill ! " he cried hoarsely. 
 
 "She lowed she lef it thar,fur a fact," Aunt 
 Betsey said with a gurgle of relief. " I bet 
 she s thar this minnit ! Otter will ye look at 
 the critter split the mud ! Dake he are gono, 
 too. Waal, quicker they all run, less need er 
 nmnin fur Betsey Graham. I ain t precisely 
 
 1 Doors of dwellings are rarely locked in this part of the 
 country ; so that any one could go out, easily. 
 
32 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 built fur the run neither." With which reflec 
 tion, she followed at her own pace. 
 
 Otto flew across the green like a hare. He 
 darted into the great black hollow structure, 
 into the shadows crouching under the ratters 
 like beasts asleep. There by the chest, Boo was 
 sitting, crooning to herself while she played with 
 a trail of fire. 
 
 A yell tore Otto s dry throat. 
 
 " Run with the baby ! " shouted Dake, " run 
 for your life ! " 
 
 He was jumping on the sparks ; he gathered 
 the mass attached to the fuse in his arms ; he 
 leaped through the door. Aunt Betsey, trotting 
 ponderously along, saw Otto run from the mill 
 holding Boo while Dake flew to the river bank, 
 hurling his burden into the air ; and simultane 
 ously came the crash of a dozen claps of thunder 
 rolled into one ; a shower of dirt, branches, 
 water and boards whizzed about her ears, and 
 Dake tumbled headlong against a tree. 
 
 The next second Boo shrieked with delight, 
 " Did Boo hear the bang ! Big bang ! " 
 
 " Good Lord er earth an heaven ! " screamed 
 Aunt Betsey, " whut s that ? " 
 
 But she was not a woman to be deprived 
 of her wits by any catastrophe. Instantly she 
 grasped the child and felt her over, commenting : 
 " Ain t broke nowhar. Nur you, Otter, hay ? 
 Whar \sDake?" 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 33 
 
 M He he s there ! " Otto s chattering jaws 
 managed to gasp, as he pointed a shaking hand 
 at the cypress stump. 
 
 The black heap tumbled athwart the roots 
 neither stirred nor moaned when the old woman 
 touched it. 
 
 " Oh, my boy ! my boy ! " she cried ; but 
 directly in a changed tone she said : " Naw, his 
 heart beats strong. Jes hit his head agin the 
 tree an knocked im dead. Hope the devil s 
 trick, whutever t is, hain t no more go off in t. 
 Otter, you n Boo don come too nigh ! Holler 
 on Marty Ann, she 11 be plum crazy hearin the 
 noise Thar she comes wild I Marty Ann, 
 Boo ain t hurted ! " 
 
 Marty Ann turned once towards Boo, stand 
 ing solidly on her own plump legs by this time, 
 then she ran straight to Dake. Aunt Betsey s 
 lantern struck out a ragged medallion from the 
 intense darkness, wherein lay Dake s profile 
 resting on the old woman s arm, and a ghastly, 
 terrified face with staring eyes and panting lips, 
 above. Blood was on Dake s hair and cheek 
 and on the hand that Marty struck against her 
 breast. 
 
 Otto s head reeled ; he caught at Boo, tum 
 bling down on the ground to hide his face in 
 her little white nightgown. 
 
 "That s right, Otter," cried Aunt Betsey, 
 
34 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 " wrop er up ! The pore little trick 11 be ehillin 
 if yere," flinging the quilt at him, " putt 
 that on er. Now, holler right loud, all er ye. 
 Ary words come handy. Murder ! Fire ! 
 Holp ! Holp I This a way ! Whoop-ee-ee ! 
 Git up the tree an shake the lantern, boy ! 
 Marty Ann, w y don ye holler ? Guv me that 
 ar shawl ; my gownd 11 kiver you all over, 
 an yourn won t me ! Holler ! holler 1 " 
 
 Really, however, the settlement needed no 
 rousing. 
 
 The explosion had startled them out of their 
 slumbers for miles around. Lanterns began to 
 twinkle like fireflies, in every direction. They 
 poured out of their cabins, half dressed ; while 
 their shouts and calls woke the echoes in the 
 swamp. First John, the watchman, emerged 
 from the old mill, rubbing his eyes. Then Mr. 
 and Mrs. Francis came and the Carolls. Within 
 five minutes a score of men, women, and chil 
 dren were on the spot, and Dorrance Caroll was 
 spurring his fastest horse down the lane after 
 the doctor. 
 
 Mr. Francis and Winter took one of the 
 heavy shutters off a store window and laid Dake 
 on it, still senseless. 
 
 "Tote him to we all s, in cose," said Aunt 
 Betsey ; " he saveid my gran chile this yere 
 night, an nobuddy else shill nuss im." 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 35 
 
 Every moment men on horseback came gallop 
 ing up to the lanterns, having heard the noise. 
 The crowd streamed after the shutter, buzzing 
 like a hive of bees ; with questions, ejaculations, 
 surmises, threats. 
 
 "Whut war t onyhow?" 
 
 " Do you reckon t war a yearthquake ? " 
 
 "Naw, naw, brudder Sharon, dey didn t ben 
 no quake ! I done seen piece er dat ar trick 
 done it, my black sen . Mist Francis does low 
 hit s dem dynermite cartridges dey does blow 
 out de stumps wid. Keckon dey all aimed blow 
 de whole settlement sp ang up ! " 
 
 A white man at Otto s elbow was explaining 
 the operation very correctly. " Ye understand 
 we got a heap er them cartridges, an these yere 
 vilyuns stole em an hid em in the mill. Most 
 like, they set em off with a long fuse wud be 
 a hour burnin . Then, they jes lights the fuse, 
 lopes thar hosses, an Mist Francis may whistle 
 fur em ! " 
 
 " Dad gum thar ornery hides, I m fur swing- 
 in them up soon s we git em ! " 
 
 " Fust we got ter cotch em. I m trustin t 
 thar gittin mired up in the slashes ! " 
 
 " Dad burn em, blow em up ith they all s 
 dinnermite " 
 
 " T war n t they all s, t war we all s." 
 
 " Naw, sir, hangin s the best. Ye takes a 
 wagon " 
 
36 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 " Say, bud, you was thar, tell us." 
 
 Wedged in the throng, Otto must answer un 
 limited questions. 
 
 At the house, the talk veered appropriately to 
 the merits of the injured man. A farmer told 
 of a gate mended, for nothing ; and a woman of 
 a rocking chair made for her old mother. 
 " Wud n t take a cent. Said we d give im 
 many a dinner when he was workin out our 
 way. I had n t nary rocker but the one, an I 
 hated terrible not to rock." 
 
 " He was always so good to the little tricks, 
 that s what I think on," said a young mother. 
 
 " Thar war n t a better cyarpenter in Arkan- 
 saw," almost sobbed Winter ; " jes hurted him 
 to do a pore job; an honest? my Lord, the 
 man that wud do Dake mean wud rob a dead 
 
 " We 11 make em dead men ! " howled the 
 crowd. But they were hushed instantly by the 
 doctor s approach. A bag hung over the medi 
 cal arm, from which projected divers steel han 
 dles glittering ominously under the lanterns. 
 A shudder ran through the crowd, and Otto s 
 next neighbor remarked in an awestruck tone : 
 " Reckon he got many s dozen knives in thar ! " 
 
 " Must hurt tumble ! " said another man. 
 
 44 Say they all kin cyarve a buddy all t bits, 
 inside," pursued the first speaker with a kind of 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. . 37 
 
 ghoulish enjoyment of his theme, " an then putt 
 em all back int fix, like they was a clock. Fur 
 my pyart, though, I d be sorter jubious they d 
 fergit suthin , or turn some little trick er me 
 wrong side up." 
 
 Otto sickened at this vision of the horrors 
 that might be inflicted on Dake. Uncle Bruno 
 had held a low opinion of doctors ever since 
 they insisted on vaccinating the family, and 
 mamma Knipple sided with the board of health. 
 Otto began to feel a painful sympathy with 
 Dake. " Oh, I did n t go for to kill him, or 
 to hurt him neither," he was always saying to 
 himself. " I would n t take the things cause 
 he s a traitor, but he was good to me. I don t 
 want him to die ! " Mr. Francis s praises of 
 his conduct were like a thorn pressing a raw 
 wound ; but he did not dare to repulse them. 
 He longed to fly, but his anxiety for some word 
 from Dake kept him passive. He waited, in 
 his torture, until he saw Mrs. Francis s pretty, 
 kind smile through the crowd of faces and the 
 lights, and heard her declare that Dake s hurt 
 was not serious ; then he slunk away. 
 
 He crept under the shadow of the cypress- 
 trees, along the edge of the brake, to the new 
 mill. He looked at it, not a beam shaken, not 
 a stone of the chimney jarred. 
 
 He looked a little while, then he walked back 
 to the store. 
 
38 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 The door stood open, just as they had left it, 
 in their flight. Otto walked up the dark stairs, 
 feeling his way ; but when he came to touch the 
 door, he recoiled. An uncontrollable, utterly ir 
 rational terror seemed to swoop down out of the 
 night and clutch his soul. His knees knocked 
 together and the chatter of his own teeth scared 
 him, yet he could not for the life of him keep 
 his jaws still. 
 
 " Oh, Lord," gasped poor Otto, " how 11 I 
 ever live through this night ? If only a rat ud 
 come ! " 
 
 But with a desperate effort he flung the door 
 back and, running swiftly, he crossed the floor, 
 jumped into bed, and cowered under the blan 
 kets. But the blankets are not woven that shall 
 keep out fear. Otto was not repentant, he was 
 frightened. 
 
 His imagination had armed his nerves before 
 hand against one train of shocks ; instead, there 
 came a horror for which he had not prepared ; 
 and they were defenseless. The homesick boy 
 loved Boo; over and over again he saw her 
 laughing at that devil s plaything. He saw 
 Dake s pallid face and the woman s wild eyes. 
 He heard the oaths and threats and curses. 
 Somehow, Otto had expected that the poor peo 
 ple about would rather exult in the planter s 
 misfortune ; was he not, by rights, their oppres- 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 39 
 
 sor ? But now they raged against the man who 
 had tried to kill Dake. They would kill Otto, if 
 they knew. There was a step on the stair ! No, 
 it was nothing ! The rustle of leaves was like 
 voices. It was not the click of hammers, only 
 the rattle of a sycamore bough in the wind. So 
 the hideous hours wore on until, exhausted by 
 his torment, the poor little lonely sinner slept. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dake was hardly less wretched. 
 He uttered a deep groan in the middle of the 
 night, startling Aunt Betsey, who was in the act 
 of pouring some medicine into a spoon, and nat 
 urally shook the spoon. But she gave him the 
 medicine just the same, conscientiously adding 
 an extra half-spoonful. Then she looked down 
 upon him with great tenderness and emotion. 
 
 "Mother," said Dake, "why do you cry?" 
 for the tears were twinkling on Aunt Betsey s 
 lashes and, holding the bottle of medicine in one 
 hand, she was gently stroking his hair with the 
 other and the spoon. 
 
 " Law me, honey," she answered briskly (af 
 ter a sniff), "I ain t cryin , my eyes is jest 
 weakly, like." 
 
 "Am I urt bad?" said Dake. 
 
 " Naw, boy, Lord be praised, you ain t. Doc 
 tor says a board struck ye, an knocked ye agin 
 the tree, an ye got a confusion (that s what he 
 calls hit), in you head; an you leader unner 
 
40 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 you right knee got tore by suthin ; but no bones 
 is broke, and you 11 be peart agin in no time." 
 
 Dake sighed anc} turned his face to the wall. 
 
 " Talk er me cryin ! " the old woman went on. 
 " ain t I got good reason fur ter cry an praise 
 the Lord fur whut you done for we all this 
 night ? Me cry ! Ye had orter see Marty Ann, 
 she cried a half hour studdy, when she war n t 
 kissin an muchin of Boo." 
 
 A quiver passed over Dake s face. Not a 
 word did he say, being, truly, past speaking. 
 
 Drearily his memory had been plodding 
 through the past evening. Bassett ? Of course 
 it was Bassett. But how much had Marty Ann 
 helped him ? He acquitted her, promptly, of 
 any guilty knowledge, but he suspected that un 
 consciously she had given Bassett all his infor 
 mation. Through her he had learned of Dake s 
 habit of working in the mill at night. It was 
 at him, William Dake, that the blow was aimed. 
 His single glance that night had shown him the 
 hiding place cunningly contrived in the hollow 
 behind the chest of drawers and covered with 
 boards. By what miracle had the baby, pulling 
 it out, escaped firing the horrible thing ? 
 
 The fuse, most likely, was burning all the 
 while he was in the mill had he remained 
 
 his usual time " By , I wish I had ! " 
 
 thought the wretched man. Then it was that 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 41 
 
 he had groaned. The desolate loneliness, the 
 sense of being hated, the shadow of entailing 
 misfortune upon whomsoever befriended him, 
 which had poisoned life for him before, had in 
 it now the venom of a woman s deceit. 
 
 " Woman is a magic fire," muttered Dake, 
 with his face to the wall that he wished was his 
 grave. 
 
 " Fire ? " cried Aunt Betsey. " Be ye chillin , 
 honey ? Marty Ann, fotch in the big blanket ! " 
 
 Marty Ann appeared, the prettier for the vio 
 let shadows under her large eyes and the pale 
 cheeks and tremulous mouth. She stammered a 
 few words of gratitude, which Dake received 
 gently and coldly. She could not understand 
 him. 
 
 Neither could Aunt Betsey nor Mr. Francis. 
 
 He was the best of patients, quiet, morbidly 
 cautious about giving trouble, joking, in a dry 
 way, over his pain, and pathetically grateful for 
 every kindness. " But someway, for all his f un- 
 nin , the critter s mightily down," declared Aunt 
 Betsey. 
 
 " I wisht you d go in sometimes, Marty Ann," 
 she said once to her daughter ; " you kin chirk 
 him up better n ary un else." 
 
 "No, I cayn t," answered Marty Ann quickly ; 
 "cayn t you see yourself he don t want me 
 round?" 
 
42 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 "Hev ye ben ill to the pore critter? I ll 
 bet ye hev." 
 
 " No, I ain t, maw," said Marty Ann. " I 
 don t know what s the matter. Nor I don t care 
 neither." 
 
 Why, then, did Marty Ann go and cry over 
 Boo until the child howled in sympathy? 
 
 Dake could not help noticing her changed 
 looks. " She s fretting because her scoundrel 
 sweetheart done such a mean trick," he thought 
 dismally. Nevertheless, his heart yearned over 
 her. Bassett was a boaster, a coarse fellow, but 
 may be he would be good to her, and he was 
 Marty Ann s choice. " I 11 not stand in the 
 way," said Dake. 
 
 The next day he spoke to Mr. Francis. 
 " They ve downed me," he said. " What s the 
 use ? I 11 go away. There s a good carpenter 
 in Portia and he s a Knight of Labor, so they 
 won t make a row. You can get Bassett back, 
 then" . 
 
 " I don t want him," said Mr. Francis. 
 
 " He s not half a bad fellow," said Dake, " and 
 a first-rate workman. I know how the decent 
 workmen feel about scabs ; I used to feel that 
 way, myself. They re fellows that make a good 
 bargain for themselves at the expense of their 
 mates ; the decent Knights or union men won t 
 lift a hand against them, themselves, but they 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 43 
 
 don t feel bad, I assure you, when the rough fel 
 lows do them a mischief. If I stay here, they 11 
 do something to you. I m going, that s all." 
 
 Mr. Francis s indignation, appeals, protesta 
 tions, were equally vain. The planter fumed, 
 young Caroll swore, Aunt Betsey cried ; Dake 
 looked miserable, but his determination was not 
 shaken one whit. Meanwhile the swamp had 
 been scoured, a couple of detectives were prowl 
 ing about in disguise, and nobody was a pin s 
 point the wiser. 
 
 Bassett rode defiantly to the store with a cou 
 ple of witnesses, who swore (and he offered to 
 bring a dozen more who would swear the same) 
 that he spent the whole evening from seven until 
 eleven of the night in question, at a certain 
 saloon in Portia. " And I ain t that kind of a 
 fellow," said Bassett to the scowling faces, hap 
 pily few, that day, which met his. " I fight fair, 
 I do ; and I m ready to hold up my hands to 
 anybody that doubts it ! D em ! D you 
 all ! " he yelled. In fact, Bassett had primed up 
 his courage for the trip a little too heavily. 
 
 The planter, Shinault, and a few of the cooler 
 heads got him off the place with all speed. 
 
 Otto, who was in the store buying quinine for 
 Dake, witnessed the scene in indescribable agi 
 tation. The lad was a creature to be pitied. 
 He spent most of his spare time in Dake s room. 
 
44 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 At first he had shrunk from seeing Dake, but 
 very soon the only relief that he could get was 
 there. Against his will he grew fond of Dake. 
 It is hard when a man s eyes brighten at the sight 
 of you, when he likes the touch of your hand, 
 when you lift his weak head, when you see him 
 suffering but always with a smile for you it is 
 hard, even if you are a young anarchist, to prop 
 erly hate that man. Before a week was over 
 Otto surrendered ; he knew that he could not 
 hate Dake ever again. 
 
 " That ar boy s plum changed up," Aunt 
 Betsey declared ; " to my mind, now he sees how 
 that ar sekrit soci ty done Dake, he are shamed, 
 an he got a anxious notion of makin up tew 
 Dake fur bein so mean. Got them blue pants 
 on him, t -day, done so. Then, I made him h ist 
 his legs up on a chair so Dake wud shore see 
 em. Dake smiled right pleasant when he seen 
 them legs. But that boy, he looks so puny an 
 down, hit s jes turrible! Won t eat a mite. 
 Makes me feel right bad." 
 
 There was reason enough for Otto s looks. 
 Harassed by the criminal s galley slave, fear, 
 which made him look askance at every new-com 
 er s face to see if it darkened at the sight of 
 him, and strain his ears to catch the words of 
 any voice roughened by anger, the unhappy lit 
 tle dynamiter cried out : " Am I always going 
 to be scared like this ? " 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 45 
 
 It never occurred to him to give up his job ; 
 his people needed his wages too much. 
 
 The threats which are always uttered, on such 
 occasions, in primitive communities kept his 
 dread at fever heat. Apparently, the least he 
 had to expect was to be butchered with bowie 
 knives, or strangled on a high limb of the great 
 overcup oak facing the mill. 
 
 Neither was fear his only torturer. He was a 
 frank lad, with a sturdy self-respect of his own, 
 witness his declining Dake s gifts though his 
 rags hardly covered his skin, yet now he must 
 be praised on every side for snatching the baby 
 up and running ; he must be clapped on the 
 back by a score of hands, black and white, and 
 receive a miscellaneous array of tributes ranging 
 from Marty Ann s Waterbury watch (you can 
 buy a very good one at the store for two dollars 
 and sixty cents) to the package from a burly ad 
 mirer that contained a bowie knife and a pop 
 corn ball it was intolerable ! 
 
 But Otto remembered the threats, and his 
 heart failed him ; he dared not attract suspicion 
 by refusing. 
 
 " How they d hate me if they knowed ! " he 
 thought. Neither had he any longer the poor 
 comfort of being able to hate and despise the 
 givers, because it is so difficult to hate and de 
 spise people who are kind to you. 
 
46 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 Very worst of all, Otto was beginning to have 
 ghastly doubts about the righteousness of the 
 cause. He was so utterly solitary, poor little 
 wretch ! Winter, the blacksmith, voiced the 
 universal opinion : " T war a skulkin , pusillani 
 mous deed." 
 
 He addressed a crowd of farmers waiting their 
 turn before his forge. 
 
 " Them fellers, them Knights er Labor, done 
 it, to my mind," he continued. " Bassett, when 
 he war yere, he tole me of a heap of meanness 
 they all done to folks iz displeased em. 4 T ain t 
 safe to mad usj says he." 
 
 " He tole me," said a red-haired youth, " that 
 when the Knights got thar will, nobody had 
 need to work more n eight -hours a day. That s 
 miff, he says." 
 
 " An how d we all make a crap on eight hours 
 a day, do ye reckon?" said Lum Shinault. 
 " Shucks ! ef ye want money an truck, ye got to 
 work fur it ! Them Knights is the durndes 
 fools ! Wy, that ar Bassett he lows land had 
 orter be free like water. By gum, I got a good 
 farm I paid for, my wife an me workin hard. 
 Does he reckon we all goin to sheer with any 
 triflin feller comes long ? " 
 
 " Whut I cayn t enjure," said an old farmer, 
 " is the way he done we all. He did n t have no 
 gredge agin we all, yit yere he tries fur to cheat 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 47 
 
 us outen our gin, when he knows the ole un ain t 
 big miff ! " 
 
 " T war a mean trick on Mist Francis," said 
 Shinault ; " tell ye, he done a sight er good, yere. 
 I kin remember when thar war n t nary sightly 
 houses, an the store did n t sell nuthin much 
 cept white whiskey, an the whole settlement wud 
 git r ariu , chargin drunk Saturday night. Yes, 
 sir, they wud so. Look a the place, now. Look 
 a them fine painted houses an the heap of win 
 ders ! Look a the school us that s a church 
 house, too ! An ain t the store the best all 
 sorts store onywhar ? an don t sell a drop of 
 licker. Ain t we all s farms more vallable kase 
 of j inin this yere estate with the gin an the 
 store an the steamboat landin ? I tell ye, 
 Francis an Caroll done a sight of good." 
 
 " Dey s kin gen lemen fo a fac ," agreed a 
 tall negro. " Dey did guv me credit to de sto 
 fo meal an po k endurin de winter w en I ben 
 down wid de antedelarious fever, nur dey did n t 
 know wedder I evah git up fo to mek a crap fo 
 dem." 
 
 " Waal, to my mind," said a big farmer, he 
 of the bowie knife and popcorn ball, " ef a man 
 got a gredge gin a yuther man, let him go to 
 im an have it out fair an square. In co se 
 take is gun. This yere bio win up mills w y, 
 it s ondecent ! " 
 
48 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 A hollow-eyed man in butternut jeans was 
 stirred to reminiscence, and told a long tale of 
 how a man set fire to his brother s cotton gin in 
 revenge for a bad debt. 
 
 " War ye shore t war him done it ? " said 
 Shinault. 
 
 " Shore? " cried the man indignantly ; " did n t 
 Dock most lick his hide offen him ? Shore ! 
 Be you uns shore Jim Bassett an they all done 
 this yere meanness ? " 
 
 " Waal, now, ef ye ax me," said Shinault, " I 
 ain t." 
 
 "Who did, then?" 
 
 " That s what I dunno." 
 
 Otto, on the outskirts of the crowd, swallowed 
 a lump in his throat. 
 
 " Waal, shore or no," said the big farmer, 
 whacking his boot leg truculently with his ox 
 whip, " thar s a right smart of good men an 
 true a goin to pay Mist James Bassett a visit 
 an find out!" 
 
 " Leave im t the law, boys. Ye better ! " 
 said Lum Shinault; he was Esquire Shinault 
 now, a justice of the peace, and with a profound 
 respect for legal methods. 
 
 u Oh we all ain t goin ," said the farmer, and 
 there must have been some occult pleasantry in 
 the remark, since the crowd broke into a rough 
 laugh. 
 

 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 49 
 
 Otto was afraid of their mirth ; he hurried 
 away to think. 
 
 Now, as it happened, the farmer was merely 
 bragging ; and had he not been, Bassett was safe 
 in St. Louis. But this Otto did not know. He 
 said to himself that either he must confess, or 
 Bassett would be sacrificed. The idea of con 
 fession was not new ; it had come to him once or 
 twice before ; and this morning he had felt a 
 desperate longing to thus prevent Dake s going. 
 For Dake was going that day. Otto overheard 
 part of the conversation between him and Mr. 
 Francis. 
 
 " Dake, I am sorrier than I can say," said the 
 planter ; " it s all nonsense, your notions about 
 my being exposed to danger if you stay. A lot 
 of trifling blowhards, I ain t afraid of them. 
 Why, confound it, I reckoned you d stay and 
 marry a pretty Arkansas girl and settle down." 
 
 Then Dake s voice came with a tremor in it : 
 " I swear I would n t ask any girl to take a man 
 for a usband that might be brought in dead to 
 her, any day, or all crippled up and useless, 
 worse than dead. I d think too much of the 
 girl I cared for, to ask that ! " 
 
 And, directly, the voices having grown duller 
 because Boo was drawing Seerayphine Dake and 
 a new wagon through the gallery, Aunt Betsey 
 appeared, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes 
 
50 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 and slashing the air with her big red handker 
 chief, in a state of mingled wrath and woe. 
 
 "The critter s deestracted," she wailed, 
 " fixin t go t Porshy t see the cyarpenteer 
 thar, ef he 11 come in co se he 11 come, dad 
 burn him ! then, he are goin fur good. An 
 he ain t nowhar nigh well. Ain t sot up yit. 
 Goin off by his lone, pore boy. Declare, I 
 wisht them sekrit societies was all sunk en the 
 river ! They done hit, they done hit. Boo, you 
 hush ! " 
 
 She hurried away, crying. 
 
 Otto had wondered if he could not tell, but 
 his heart failed him. 
 
 It is so seldom that we act from simple mo 
 tives, in this world ; we do in fiction, we do in 
 the newspapers, and we are continually presum 
 ing that other people do ; but we ourselves 
 how often can we even decide which one of our 
 medley of motives casts the final vote ? 
 
 Was it his remorse for the wrong that he 
 had done Dake, or his disgust with his false posi 
 tion, or his still ardent loyalty to "the order," 
 impelling him to protect Bassett at any cost? 
 Otto did not try to decide. He only knew there 
 was nothing left but to tell. 
 
 Was Uncle Bruno, who was so good, right? 
 Or was Mr. Francis right? he was good, too. 
 And Dake was good. But did good people op- 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 51 
 
 press the poor ? How could it all be ? It did 
 not matter, anyhow, he had only done mischief ; 
 he, not Dake, was the traitor ; he had disgraced 
 the order. Yes, there was nothing lef. 
 
 " They all think so kind of me," he thought 
 with an ache in his throat, " and they trust me 
 so. He will feel awful bad," he meant Dake, 
 u but it ain t no use, I 11 tell Mr. Francis and 
 beg him he shall not tell Mr. Dake, and they 
 kin hang me to the blacksmith s tree, for his bed 
 is the other way, or they kin wait till he is gone 
 so he shall not know but oh, meine Mutter 
 imd die Kleine ! " 
 
 His tears choked him, bitter, like death. 
 
 Still he held to his course. There was noth 
 ing else left. He walked on to the store ; but 
 slowly, because his legs did not seem to belong 
 to him and trembled and sprawled without his 
 being able to control his steps. He could not 
 eat this last week ; and his sleep, when he slept 
 at last, was a succession of nightmares. After 
 all, he was only a child trying to sin like a man, 
 and his strength, never robust, had snapped un 
 der the weight of fright, loneliness, and remorse. 
 His head had been troubling him lately ; it had 
 a curious, empty feeling, as if it were a mere 
 shell. At the same time he continually heard 
 false sounds. Voices of anguish and terror, 
 blunted by distance, sobs and moans and the 
 
52 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 hoarse murmur as of a frantic mob approaching ; 
 he heard them all more plainly than he heard 
 the wind rising in the cypress brake. Did he 
 stop and listen intently, such noises would cease, 
 and he would realize that his imagination had 
 feigned them, but they added to the constant 
 strain on his nerves. Even now that the worst 
 was come, that he ought to be absorbed in the 
 moment (for he felt his feet stumbling against 
 the steps), even now he caught himself wonder 
 ing was it really Marty Ann weeping back in a 
 dim comer of the empty store, or the same old 
 noises of a dream. 
 
 No one was in the store. 
 
 He crawled down the long room, feeling his 
 way, for he could not see. 
 
 Behind the gilt wire screen which protects the 
 office proper from the small room in the rear of 
 the store, Mr. Francis sat poring and frowning 
 over the biggest ledger of all. 
 
 Otto did not see a head leaned against the 
 wall of the safe, a head with haggard features 
 and a white cheek, or a thin hand that clutched 
 the safe-door knob to hide its trembling. Neither 
 did he perceive Aunt Betsey towering above the 
 screen in a yellow sunbonnet, flapping with her 
 motions as she rocked her high stool by bracing 
 her two hands against the desk. All Otto s dim 
 eyes showed him was Mr. Francis s stern face. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 53 
 
 He staggered into the office and steadied him 
 self against the leg of the desk. 
 
 " Mister," said he, " I done it all. If they 
 hang me, you send my mother the wages. Don t 
 let them hurt Jim, I done it all." 
 
 " What in the devil " said Mr. Francis ; 
 he was not a profane man, but he had been 
 sorely tried, to-day, losing Dake. He shut the 
 ledger with a bang. "What do you mean?" 
 said he. 
 
 "The explosion that blowed up the mill," 
 faltered Otto ; this anger was the beginning. " I 
 done it all; nobody else knowed nothin bout 
 it." 
 
 Aunt Betsey jumped from her stool with a 
 thud. 
 
 " I don t believe you," cried Dake, hoarsely. 
 
 "I done it," repeated Otto; "I done it to 
 make you take the boys back. I stole the car 
 tridges and hid them in the mill once, and ayf ter 
 Mr. Dake came in I ran quick and lighted the 
 fuse. I done it, all, myself. Jim and the boys 
 never knowed. They ain t to blame. I did n t 
 mean to hurt Mr. Dake. The boys ain t to 
 blame." 
 
 He spoke in a dull, weak voice, repeating his 
 ideas a little, and his knees were shaking. His 
 skin had gone a kind of gray-white like tree bark 
 in winter. His eyes were glassy. 
 
54 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 " How did you know about making a fuse ? " 
 said Dake. 
 
 Otto lifted his head with a strange, forlorn 
 expression of pride. "Oh, I ve known that a 
 long time. I Ve seen lots of bombs and things." 
 "His uncle!" cried Mr. Francis under his 
 breath to Dake ; " of course he knows. Dear, 
 dear, dear, I m afraid he ain t lying." 
 
 "Bassett put him up to it," said Dake, dog. 
 gedly. 
 
 " Otter," said the old woman solemnly, " did 
 you do that thar wicked trick ? " 
 " Yes, mum," said Otto. 
 
 " Boy, fall down, right yere, an bless the Lord ! 
 Ye war on the brink of a precept, 1 an the Lord 
 mussif ully slewed ye off ! Don t be too hard on 
 the critter, Mist Francis, t war n t his deed. 
 Them thar owdacious, triflin knights jes tolled 
 him on, pore, innercent chile." 
 
 " Nobody - nobody but me," said Otto 
 again, more faintly. 
 
 " Thar ! jes like the man in the book. He s 
 taken the fatil vow!" Aunt Betsey cried. 
 " Oh, I wisht ye d of read that thar book, you 
 cud jedge proper then Otter ! Otter I " 
 
 It was time to catch the swaying little figure 
 in her strong arms, since Otto, making an inef 
 fectual effort to say something about hanging 
 and Bassett, had fainted. 
 
 1 Mrs. Graham had precipice in her mind. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 55 
 
 Mr. Francis, like most planters in lonely re 
 gions, was a bit of a doctor ; he hastily grasped 
 Otto s wrist and felt his forehead, just as Marty 
 Ann rushed in, hearing her mother s scream. 
 Her eyes were swollen ; even blind Dake could 
 see that she had been crying. " He is in for a 
 fit of sickness," said Mr. Francis. 
 
 "Then take him straight ter we all s," said 
 Aunt Betsey. " Law me, Mist Francis, ye won t 
 let em take the pore chile t the jail. T war n t 
 his deed." 
 
 Suddenly, she rose to the full significance of 
 the moment. There was heard the crack of a 
 whip and rattle of wheels, outside. 
 
 " Ef Otter done hit, an not the sekrit soci ty, 
 fur w y must Dake go? " 
 
 Dake looked at Marty Ann; he struck his 
 lips together, trying to speak, and gasped. 
 
 Aunt Betsey remained mistress of the situa 
 tion : " Marty Ann," said she, firmly, " tell him 
 t stay. Ye know ye ben cryin fit ter kill kase 
 he ben a-goin . Mist Francis, holp me h ist 
 this yere chile ; an we 11 tote him cross the 
 road. You all kin foller when you ready. Guv 
 me Dake s bag, he won t want it." 
 
 Mr. Francis bit his lip and obeyed. Marty 
 Ann and Dake were alone. Marty Ann recov 
 ered herself first, and commanded Dake to sit 
 down, he was n t fit to stand. 
 
56 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 " No," said Dake, " not till I know if I m to 
 go or to stay." 
 
 " / ain t telling you to go," said Marty Ann ; 
 and blushed furiously and tossed up the corner 
 of her apron with a pettish movement. 
 
 Dake was trembling exceedingly. " I can t 
 believe what I want to," he cried. " Say, Miss 
 Martha, did you see did you see Jim Bas- 
 sett, that night you was lost ? " 
 
 Marty Ann laughed out sweet and clear : " It 
 was that, was it, you were studying bout and 
 fretting over? Yes, I did, Mr. Dake when I 
 went to the Griffins , on the way. And I come 
 back through the swamp so I would n t meet up 
 with him again. And, if you want to know, he 
 said he come to Portia to see me. So there ! " 
 
 " Martha," said Dake, taking both her hands, 
 " you know what I think bout you. You know 
 I love you. Say, did n t you " 
 
 " No, I did n t," said Marty Ann, lifting her 
 sweet eyes bravely to her lover s ; " I did n t care 
 for him, but I was n t sure but I did, cause he 
 was so lively and handsome ; but when when I 
 seen you lying on the ground I hate him ! " 
 cried Marty Ann. 
 
 " But you don t hate me," stammered Dake, 
 in a daze of bliss ; may be, then, you you 
 could " 
 
 " I reckon," said Marty Ann, very low. 
 
OTTO THE KNIGHT. 57 
 
 About five minutes later, Dake, looking out 
 of Paradise, saw Otto s ragged hat. 
 
 " Poor Otto," said he, " we must forgive him, 
 dear lass." 
 
 They did forgive him. How can one bear 
 malice to a boy that one has nursed through a 
 brain fever? 
 
 Mr. Francis was merciful ; he kept Otto s 
 secret. Perhaps his mercy was Otto s punish 
 ment. The lad winces to this day when the talk 
 at the store drifts into the subject of the still 
 mysterious explosion. To this day, the tongues 
 of the plantation orators belabor the Knights 
 around the store stove. 
 
 Mr. Francis, who is not a friend of the order, 
 only laughs, and remarks philosophically to 
 young Caroll, "Oh, well, those Knights have 
 done so many mean things I reckon one more 
 does n t matter." 
 
 Dake s helper, strange to say, is Uncle Bruno. 
 The widow Knipple is making a crop, just be 
 yond the Grahams . Frau Bruno has an account 
 at the store and money to her credit ; but Un 
 cle Bruno is not likely to have any such pros 
 perous showing on the ledger ; all his spare dol 
 lars go to needy comrades, or to pay for those 
 wild-looking German sheets that come to him 
 through the mail. 
 
 Nevertheless, he keeps on the best terms with 
 
58 
 
 OTTO THE KNIGHT. 
 
 Dake (whom the order has forgotten), and 
 adores Mrs. Dake and Boo. Frau Bruno says : 
 " Ach, du lieber Himmel ! you tink Bruno talk 
 fierce? Jest haf you heard him vunce ven ve 
 in St. Louis been ! But now pshutt, he is like 
 de sheeps ! " 
 
 Aunt Betsey, however, is still seeking (vicari 
 ously in the person of the unfortunate Mr. Fran 
 cis) for the book which gave her such lucid ideas 
 on the subject of secret societies. It had a pur 
 plish back and a right pretty picture of a skull 
 and crossed daggers outside ; and, no doubt, 
 when Mr. Francis shall find it, she will convert 
 Herr Knipple. 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 " THE bread done fell," said Aunt Callie. 
 
 My friend Dorothea was standing before the 
 huge cypress log which is our meat block. A 
 long, thin young colored man in a ragged coat 
 held a quarter of beef on end awaiting orders. 
 From time to time Dora would look from the open 
 page of her cook-book, with its neat diagram, 
 to the unwieldy mass on the block. Her beau 
 tiful black eyebrows were slightly contracted. 
 Usually, Dora is calm as moonlight. 
 
 " I dare say," said Dora. 
 
 " Looked like t had a notion er risin ," contin 
 ued Aunt Callie ; " went up all right, but cud n t 
 make out, some way." 
 
 She folded her arms as one that washes her 
 hands of fate. The loose ends of her turban 
 hung down over the nape of her neck ; such a 
 headdress, with the inscrutable melancholy of 
 her barbaric yet regular features, made her head 
 suggest the profiles on an Egyptian frieze. Be 
 ing short and round, her shape was not impos- 
 
60 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 ing ; but she carried her head with a grand air, 
 and took long steps again like the figures on 
 a frieze. She had large, prominent black eyes, 
 the balls of which moved slowly ; and there were 
 little bunches of wool on her cheeks below the 
 ear. About her work, she wore a red and black 
 striped cotton gown and a faded blue turban ; 
 but on Sundays, marching in the van of the 
 dusky procession which went from the plantation 
 to " preachin , she was arrayed in a decent black 
 gown, a plaid shawl, and a bonnet with feathers. 
 Aunt Callie lived with her daughter in the cabin 
 back of the cotton-field on the river-bank. Ori 
 ginally she came from Mississippi. She had al 
 ways cooked for the quality, was a widow, a good 
 church member, and a woman of property, hav 
 ing money to her account at the store, and owning 
 two marble-top bureaus and a sewing-machine. 
 No person of color in the county was more re 
 spected than she. Therefore Mrs. Francis en 
 gaged her as soon as Mrs. Caroll decided to fit 
 up the old house and spend her first winter on 
 her plantation ; and we were congratulated with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 For three weeks our housekeeping went on 
 smoothly. The first two of the three we were 
 visiting Mrs. Francis, and Caledonia and her 
 daughter, assisted by the man Jerry, prepared 
 for our coming. After we moved into the house, 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 61 
 
 nothing occurred for a week to mar our enjoy 
 ment of the novel scenes and divine weather. 
 But then how it first began none of us could 
 tell slowly, insidiously, an atmosphere of 
 disaster seemed to ooze out of our kitchen stove. 
 There was a monotonous round of misfortune, 
 from coffee to bread. 
 
 " Will I bake it up, ole miss?" said Callie. 
 This was her invariable form of address to 
 Mrs. Caroll, for she had been a slave, and as 
 she had always cooked for the quality, she knew 
 what good manners are. 
 
 Mrs. Caroll came out of the store-room at 
 her appeal. My friend reminds one of Shake 
 speare s picture, " a virtuous gentlewoman, mild 
 and beautiful." Nothing about her was ruffled 
 now except her hair, which had caught on the 
 meat hook. 
 
 "I suppose there isn t any bread in the 
 house," I observed /was churning milk with 
 the egg-beater. " Did you give my rolls to the 
 calf?" 
 
 " T de pigs," replied Aunt Callie, concisely. 
 " Dey wuz too sour fo de calf." 
 
 " And your puff muffins ? " 
 
 "Dey all wuz sp iled up too," said Aunt Cal 
 lie, calmly. " De chickens got dem, got dat ar 
 Graham light bread, too. Dey sho bust soon." 
 
 " Well, I am sure I don t know what to say, 
 
62 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 Callie," said Mrs. Caroll, mildly. " Mr. Dorr 
 likes corn-cake " 
 
 " But when we had it yesterday he said he 
 thought he preferred the closely woven bread. " 
 
 " Poor boy ! the bread was heavy," said Mrs. 
 Caroll. " Suppose we don t bake it up ; we 
 can have meat." 
 
 " I am not so sure," interrupted Dora. " Do 
 you see any resemblance between that quarter 
 and the picture ? 4 The hind quarter consists of 
 the loin, rump, round, tenderloin or fillet of beef, 
 leg, and flank. Where do you suppose they 
 are?" 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mrs. Caroll ; " it seems a 
 very big piece. I should think they would have 
 cut it up at the store, as they did before." 
 
 " Mr. Longmire he kills de beef an cuts it 
 up," said Aunt Callie, " but I speck he s busy 
 makin of a coffin to-day." 
 
 Dora turned to Jerry. " How do they cut the 
 meat up at the store, Jerry ? " 
 
 Confusion covers Jerry as with a garment 
 whenever he is addressed by us. He had to turn 
 his head away before he could stammer : " Dey 
 jis chops it off wid de axe. Gins ter the bergin- 
 nin an jis chops it off, natchel." 
 
 " Do you know the least thing in the world 
 about cutting up meat, Jerry ? " 
 
 "Naw, m." 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 63 
 
 " Cut it up, then ! " 
 
 " Yes, m." 
 
 " And you, Freddy," said Dora, politely, ad 
 dressing me, " how are you coming on ? " 
 
 " Oh, I m coming on well enough ; it is the 
 butter that doesn t come." 
 
 " Well," said Dora, " nobody can have more 
 respect for the Dover egg-beater, in a general 
 way, than I, but, as a churn, don t you think 
 it rather lacks scope ? Milk, too, does n t quite 
 seem to take the place of cream. Winifred, you 
 make me think of Violet and Lionel in the c Non 
 sense Rhymes, churning salt-water violently 
 in the hopes of its turning into butter, which, 
 you may remember, it seldom, if ever, did. " 
 
 " T ain t de milk, young miss," said Aunt Cal- 
 lie, in a hollow voice ; " dey allus chu ns outen 
 milk yeah. Nur t ain t de chu n." 
 
 " What is it, then the climate ? " 
 
 " Dis heah kitchin," said Aunt Callie, fixing 
 her stony gaze on Jerry, who winced percepti 
 bly, " dis heah kitchin am cunjured ! " 
 
 Jerry jumped. We had been in Arkansas 
 long enough to understand what she meant. 
 Dora and I were silent with dismay ; only Mrs. 
 Caroll said, " Dear me, Callie, I trust not ! " 
 
 " Yes, ole miss, me and de kitchin bofe. Ole 
 Man Maggart done it. Dat how come all dese 
 bodderations. Reckon wuss a-commV 
 
64 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 A little persuasion drew out the details of 
 her misfortune. 
 
 Every one in Arkansas knows how wicked ne 
 groes can conjure other negroes by charms, or 
 spells, or diabolical potions. Sometimes the con 
 jured have lizards " throwed enter ern," which, 
 starting in the arms or legs, gnaw their way 
 to the victim s heart, and he dies in torment. 
 Other baleful diseases are at the conjurer s beck, 
 but on our plantation the afflicted commonly 
 had lizards. Thanks to a gifted " conjure doc 
 tor," Uncle Rufe Lemew, no one had died, 
 though to my knowledge one woman lay ill for 
 months. Besides sickness, woful evils may fall 
 on the person who offends a conjurer : blighted 
 crops, dying cattle, estranged friends in fine, 
 no end of mischief. Old Man Maggart was our 
 conjurer, hated and dreaded equally. It ap 
 peared that Callie, who shunned him like the 
 rest of the world, had come upon him by acci 
 dent " down in the cypress brake," where he 
 was gathering roots for his " magic." Now, as 
 every one knows, magic must be wrought in 
 secret ; very likely poor Callie, seeking nothing- 
 worse than " saxfras," quite ruined a promising 
 charm at least so I account for the rage into 
 which the old man flew at the sight of her, " Jis 
 stompin on de groun an r arin on me ; said de 
 mos outrigeous tings, sich iz no man pusson 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 65 
 
 darst say to me befo . Lowed I wuz peekin on 
 im. Me ! I 11 fix ye, sezee ; 4 1 11 larn ye quit 
 foolin wid God s yarbs ! Yuh workin in a fine 
 housen wid dem folkses fum de Norf, sezee. 
 4 Tink a heap on ye, don dey ? Dey won 1 long? 
 sezee. * No good luck come to dat kitchin long 
 iz yuh in hit, sezee. Nur dey won t, needer." 
 
 It was easy to laugh at Aunt Callie s super 
 stition, but I am bound to say that the facts 
 were on her side : we did have an array of mis 
 haps. There was the butter, for instance, or 
 dered a month ago, and still strolling about the 
 country, while we were reduced to lard and tal 
 low. Then the weather turned " plumb cold," 
 and everything that could freeze froze solid. 
 To counterbalance this, something awful hap 
 pened to the damper of the kitchen stove, so 
 that everything put into the oven used to burn. 
 I dare say we ought to have expected the mice 
 to get at the raisins, but need the shelf holding 
 the coal-oil can have broken down the only night 
 when the crock of mince-meat stood underneath ? 
 Dorr is a patient fellow, but he did say that he 
 thought we would better draw the line of flavors 
 at kerosene. 
 
 All these and various other trials Aunt Gallic 
 bore with darkling composure. They were to be 
 expected. Really, she gave Old Man Maggart 
 more credit for evil than he deserved. That 
 
66 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 the versatile Longmire carpenter, blacksmith, 
 butcher, undertaker, with equal readiness and in 
 efficiency should be called away from our cow 
 shed before he could put on the doors was quite 
 to be expected on a plantation. Jerry nailed the 
 cows in every night, removing the boards in the 
 morning, and I do not see anything surprising 
 in our best cow tearing her leg on a nail, when 
 there were so many nails about, new and old. But 
 Aunt Callie considered it a special freak of " de 
 magic." Dora argued that the cow did not be 
 long to the kitchen : why should she be conjured ? 
 
 " But de milk do," said Aunt Callie, solemnly, 
 "an wharfo de cow." 
 
 The same reasoning made Old Man Maggart 
 guilty instead of the minks that apparently 
 killed our fowls. It goes without saying that 
 Aunt C alhVs own private ventures were a dreary 
 procession of failures. Did any dish miracu 
 lously escape from the stove, it was sure to come 
 to grief before it could reach us like the de 
 licious caramel custard set out to cool in the 
 woodshed, and there much appreciated by our 
 dog, Fritz. We tried to assist Aunt Callie, but 
 it can t be said that she was grateful; she 
 rather regarded such aid compassionately as 
 " quality ways." " Quality liked projeckin 
 roun de kitchin, cookin outen a book, an 
 makin a turrible sight er dirty dishes. Some- 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 67 
 
 time deir bodclerations twurns out all right, but 
 dey s heap apter ter burn em, er don putt in 
 nuff flour, er plumb forgit de sody ; an dey 
 alluz jis natchelly sa nters off an leabe de tings 
 on de stove ; an she lowed she cud n t never 
 make out romancin wid torrer folkses tings, 
 tickler when she did n t know nuffin dat dey 
 wuz dar twell she smell de scorchin . But, laws ! 
 dey wuz bawn an raised ladies, bofe on em, 
 right clever too, an she neber see sich sweet, 
 pretty young lady like young miss, cept oncet 
 to de cirkis." 
 
 Steadily the situation grew more tragic. Aunt 
 Callie was singularly grave. She had not a 
 trace of that careless, lovable gayety bubbling 
 up into the African face from some internal 
 spring of cheerfulness that it takes so little, 
 poor souls ! of the rain of human kindness, to 
 fill to the brim. Aunt Callie never laughed ; 
 she smiled rarely. But before her weird troubles 
 her gravity had been of the placid, comfortable 
 sort : now it darkened into a sinister gloom. 
 " The Egyptian s skeleton was lively compared 
 to her," said Dorr. " I say, mamma, do send 
 for Uncle Rufe, and get her unconjured." 
 
 Of course we had often talked over the mat 
 ter, and this was no new idea. " But I have 
 hoped she could be persuaded of the folly of 
 her notions," said Mrs. Caroll. " Don t you 
 think the preacher " 
 
68 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 " Oh, try Uncle Rufe first," cried Dorr ; " I Ve 
 no use for that preacher." 
 
 So we broached the subject to Aunt Callie s 
 daughter. She was what in modest establish 
 ments North would be called " our second girl." 
 Her name was Ginevra Virginia, but she was 
 never called anything but Jinny Ver. Whether 
 this was Arkansas for Ginevra, or an abbrevia 
 tion of the two names, we did not discover. 
 She was a pretty brown creature, gentle of 
 voice and manner, and mirthful as her mother 
 was grave ; particularly tidy in her dress also, 
 and always with a bright ribbon tying her queer 
 little woolly braids. Altogether she was a pleas 
 ant object, but she was " not much force " in the 
 kitchen. Having learned to read and write, 
 and been at service in Little Rock, Jinny Ver at 
 first rather flouted our plantation superstitions. 
 " Maw jis taken up wid that notion er conjurin ," 
 said she. " I don t believe there is like sich." 
 
 African skepticism is not robust. Monday, 
 Jinny Ver tittered ; Wednesday, she vowed she 
 was not scared, but " a right smart of people 
 ben conjured right in this settlement say so 
 theyseffs ; reckon they had oughter know ; " 
 Friday, she came to us in a tremor. " The but 
 ter ! " she gasped ; " oh, Miss Dora, the butter ! " 
 
 "Well, what of the butter?" said Dora. 
 " The boat has come, and the butter is on it ; 
 Mr. Dorr paid the freight." 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 69 
 
 * Yes, m ; but the butter ain t thar. Jerry, 
 he done sarch ev ywhar, an he cayn t find it. 
 An maw says she says it s the magic ! " 
 
 "But you don t believe in that nonsense, 
 Jinny Ver?" 
 
 " I did n t useter," sobbed Jinny Ver, break 
 ing down ; " but I m skeered up, Miss Dora ; 
 an yistiddy I scalted myseff ; an t -day I cut 
 them fingers ; an maw reckons we all git killed 
 up fore Ole Man Maggart gits through." 
 
 Jinny Ver could hold out no hope of the con 
 jure doctor s assistance. 
 
 " Uncle Ruf e Lemew ? Yes, m ; say he s a 
 right good doctor ; but he ain t yere ; he s gone 
 t Tennessee t see his wife." 
 
 " But his wife lives here." 
 
 " Yes, m ; but his main wife she lives in Ten 
 nessee ; an he s went t stay with er fo good, 
 kase he p intedly fit with Aunt Lissy ; so he 
 gethered his gun an is cloze, and leff right 
 way." 
 
 "Well, I must say," said Mrs. Caroll, "if 
 this Uncle Lemew is that kind of a man, with 
 a main wife and another wife, I am thankful 
 we didn t call him in. Don t you think we 
 might try the preacher now ? " 
 
 We sent for the preacher. He came in his 
 best frock-coat, with his boots blacked ; and we 
 gave him three dollars for his church, and asked 
 
70 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 him to labor with Aunt Callie. Our knowledge 
 
 o 
 
 of the interview comes through Dorr, who heard 
 Jerry describing it at the store. In the friendly 
 circle about the store stove Jerry was a different 
 being a joker, a mimic, though just at present 
 under a cloud. 
 
 " I wuz" sloppin the pig," says Jerry, " an I 
 seen him come at er ; so I peeks in f rew de 
 winder. By grabs ! Mis Emmuns she jis 
 natchelly matched im. 4 Don yuh b lieve en de 
 debil an" is angils ? says she ; i how come yuh 
 a-preachin , den, ain t no debil ? Sis Em 
 muns, sezee," here Jerry struts across the 
 floor, imitating the preacher s slightly pompous 
 gestures, " yuh mistaken. I b lieve en de 
 debil, mos suttinly ; but Ole Man Maggart 
 ain t no kin t de debil. Dem supper sishuns is 
 onworthy a lady er yo telligence, Sis Emmuns, 
 sezee, 4 an yo d orter git shet er em. I wisht 
 yuh d come an heah my sermon on suppersishun 
 nex Sunday ; I strikes it heavy on conjurin . 
 But I don t guess preacher ever preached dat 
 sermon. Huh ! huh ! " 
 
 Why that sermon was never preached, Jerry 
 ought to know. Perhaps because she never 
 heard it, Callie continued in her superstition, 
 the sole result of the interview being a suspi 
 cion, born then and there in her mind, that the 
 preacher was " bigger ty." How much reason, 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 71 
 
 therefore, had Jerry s conscience for twinges? 
 But though a kind-hearted fellow, he hated the 
 preacher. Poor Jerry ! his had beeii a forlorn 
 existence. His mother dead and his father in 
 a convict camp somewhere, he had scrambled 
 through a friendless youth, picking cotton, 
 hauling wood, breaking horses, cheerful in spite 
 of his lonely condition, and so good-humored 
 that he was always liked and cheated until 
 finally his thin legs, round shoulders, and depre 
 cating grin drifted into our kitchen. At the 
 first sight of him Jinny Ver giggled ; she never 
 stopped giggling. " That Jerry," tittered she, 
 " his knees is on the wrong side er his legs." 
 
 In fact, there was a concave look about the 
 profile of Jerry s legs, and they were so uncom 
 monly thin and limp that it was hard to imagine 
 any bones in them ; but this was partly due to 
 very baggy trousers, and partly to his habit of 
 twisting and bending and intertwining them in 
 the most extraordinary manner whenever he was 
 confused. Simultaneously he would writhe his 
 shoulders and duck his bead. No wonder Jinny 
 Ver giggled. He did not resent the giggles; 
 he was too delighted to have her look at him at 
 all. If she giggled, he grinned. Whenever he 
 looked at her his teeth flashed. Then he would 
 duck his head, glance at her out of the corners 
 of his eyes, and shamble away. And she would 
 
72 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 giggle. For a long while he could not muster 
 courage to utter a word. Then we began to 
 notice that no sooner did Jinny Yer enter the 
 kitchen than Jerry would dash at the pump 
 handle, grinning. He would make a daring 
 effort and look at her, saying, " Want water? " 
 and instantly avert his eyes and twist himself 
 all around the pump, grinning more than ever. 
 The next step was his asking her, " Want 
 wood ? " He used to fall down oftener than any 
 human being I ever saw, and he never could 
 carry a particularly large armful of wood across 
 the piazza without hurling most of it ahead, and 
 sprawling on his back after it; the image of 
 Jerry which we shall carry away is like the arms 
 of the Isle of Man, nothing but legs kicking in 
 the air. Jinny Ver, hearing the clatter, would 
 run to the window and fall into soft convulsions 
 of mirth, while Jerry would rub himself, negro 
 fashion, grinning. He did n t mind the pretty 
 creature s laughter. 
 
 & 
 
 After he had filled our wood-boxes he always 
 carried a load to Aunt Gallic. Strictly speaking, 
 Aunt Callie s woodpile should have been her 
 own private affair. However, one must not ex 
 amine too closely into such matters ; doubtless 
 Jerry considered us all one family, and there is 
 wood for the cutting in Arkansas. 
 
 Jerry stood in the deepest awe of Aunt Callie. 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 73 
 
 He always addressed her as "Mis Emimms," 
 and answered " Yes, m," and " Naw, m," obse 
 quiously. Aunt Callie received his timid flat 
 teries gravely and coldly more gravely and 
 more coldly when he dared to ask for Jinny 
 Ver s company to a " festival." * She bent a 
 frigid gaze upon him as soon as he entered the 
 kitchen. " Mist Jerry Gale," was her greeting, 
 in a voice chilling as her glance, " I unnerstan 
 yuh aimin ter wait on my da ter, Jinny Ver ? " 
 
 " I jis axed er ter the festival," said Jerry, 
 humbly. 
 
 " Oh ! den yuh aint aimin ter wait on Jinny 
 Ver ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, m. Sut nly, Mis Emmuns. Dat 
 is ter say, ef she ef I darst." Poor Jerry 
 lost his voice entirely in an agony of diffidence. 
 Dora and I, on the other side of the door, could 
 hear the shuffling of his feet, and we knew that 
 he was twisting up his legs. 
 
 " Mist Jerry Gale," continued Aunt Callie, 
 with great stateliness, " I respecks yo feeliii s, 
 but dese yeah tenshuns t Jinny Ver mus quit 
 right straight. She are eddicated, Jinny Ver 
 
 1 A festival in the Arkansas rural districts has not its 
 Northern associations with piety, strawberries, and weak lem 
 onade. It is a winter entertainment of a private character. 
 The negroes combine sociability and business, inviting all their 
 friends to their houses, and selling them cake and candy. The 
 amusements are dances and games. 
 
74 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 are. She s trabeled a right smart en de kyars. 
 I don aim fo ter have er take up wid noner 
 dese yeah ornery, triflin , Tennessee niggers, 
 spend deir las nickel to festivals, an all fo 
 runnin an havin deir time an pleasure. Naw, 
 sir, Jinny Yer ain t fo no sich. De man pus- 
 son w ich wait 011 Jinny Ver mus be a eddicated, 
 settled-down, studdy pusson. Yuh heah me?" 
 
 Jerry murmured something about a pair of 
 mules and ten dollars at the store. 
 
 " Ef yuh got mewls an ten dolla , yo lucky," 
 retorted Aunt Callie, majestically ; " but t ain t 
 no differ. Me an Jinny Ver ain t wan tin 
 mewls. We-uns trabels en de kyars." 
 
 "An I kin read big print, an write my 
 name," urged Jerry, piteously. 
 
 " Dat s very pleasant an specterbul, Mist 
 Gale, an I wisht yuh well. But dat ar ain t 
 eddication. Eddication are readin an writin 
 an ciph rin an jogify. Kin yuh tell me whar 
 Aschy ur Rooshy s at, Mist Gale ? " 
 
 " Dey sells em t de sto ," stammered the un 
 fortunate Jerry ; " dey s fo de ladies." 
 
 " I lowed yuh d answer dat a-way, Mist Gale. 
 T ain t no manner use we-uns cussin de questin 
 furder. Ye d orter see dat yoseff. Be so kin not 
 fool no mo wid my gell. I wisht ye well." With 
 these words, uttered in her deepest voice, Aunt 
 Callie turned her back on him. He was so dis- 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 75 
 
 concerted, and he had tied his legs into such a 
 knot during his embarrassed writhings, that, 
 starting to follow her, he stumbled, and plunged 
 headlong into Jinny Ver and the soup tureen. 
 He burned himself ; but what was that com 
 pared to the ruin of Jinny Ver s new frock? 
 
 With an inarticulate howl the wretched lover 
 leaped to his feet and fled. Now began a season 
 of gall and tears for Jerry. Neither of the 
 women would speak to him. If we sent a mes 
 sage or order it was bawled impersonally, out of 
 the door, at the river. " Mis Caroll want dem 
 molasses fetched from de stor ! " " Whar Miss 
 Freddy s horse at ? she jis r arin an charg- 
 in ! " " How come de cows ain t milk yit ? " 
 every sentence in the highest key, though poor 
 Jerry might be at the crier s elbow. He did not 
 resent his ostracism. He was a soft-hearted fel 
 low, with no proper pride in him. He rather 
 tried to propitiate the offended dignities. The 
 wood-boxes almost broke down under the weight 
 of his good-will. Regularly each morning he 
 would black the kitchen stove until it shone, his 
 reward being a gruff, " Wisht dat nigger quit 
 monkeyin wid my stove ; sho debil it, some way." 
 He bought a dress pattern at the store. On the 
 outside of the bundle he printed mlsjiNyvEr 
 EmUNs in letters of various size, and he tied the 
 whole tastefully with blue ribbon to the rolling- 
 
76 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 pin, which hangs on the wall opposite the door, 
 just where it would be sure to meet the eye, the 
 instant the door was opened in the morning. 
 Poor Jerry! Caledonia pointed the finger of 
 scorn at the bundle, remarking grimly, " Do 
 yuh reckon he aims dem fo letters ? " " Te he," 
 said Jinny Ver. There was a rustling noise in 
 the gallery outside, a scrape, and a thud. " Lis- 
 t ners don git no good er deyseffs," said Aunt 
 Callie. 
 
 That evening the preacher s mule stood in 
 front of Aunt Callie s cabin for two hours. We 
 could see Jerry s sorry figure slinking across the 
 cotton rows and disappearing in the shadow of 
 the willows which fringe the river-bank. The 
 willows face the cabin. When he came back 
 Dora declared that he had been crying. Our 
 sympathies were so roused that she offered to 
 teach him to read, and I gave him a dollar. It 
 was an unwise gift ; Jerry straightway bought a 
 second-hand banjo at the store. He played en 
 tirely by the light of nature, and in his case the 
 light was dim. He never played any tune, for 
 the best of reasons ; but sometimes he would 
 sing the " Arkansas Traveler." No one who 
 has never heard Jerry can have any idea of the 
 weird and heart-broken anguish that is hidden 
 in the strains of the " Arkansas Traveler." The 
 first time I heard him moaning out the song 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 77 
 
 over his woodpile I was sure that he must have 
 cut himself ; but Dora said. No, he always sang 
 that way. The preacher, however, had a beauti 
 ful voice. 
 
 " Clare he makes me cry, he sings so sweet," 
 said Jinny Ver. She said it in Jerry s presence. 
 The young fellow s eyes flashed ; even meek 
 creatures may be goaded into rage. " Dod gum 
 his ornery time ! " he cried savagely. " I 11 
 make him sing ! " 
 
 He marched out of the room. Being Sunday, 
 the day was his own. He went to Mr. Francis 
 and borrowed his wildest Texan pony. There 
 was no danger for Jerry, the plantation horse- 
 breaker ; and how could Mr. Francis suspect 
 that Jerry would lie in wait for the preacher and 
 join him, and when the preacher admired the 
 Texan, would offer to exchange the fiery horse for 
 the peaceful mule? " He s a sorter ill hoss," : 
 said the artful Jerry ; " but yo sicher good 
 rider, I don t guess he kin devil ye." 
 
 By this time they had come to the lane which 
 runs back of Mrs. Caroll s house, and is the 
 road always taken by the colored worshipers on 
 Sunday morning. Possibly the preacher, who 
 was a good rider, was tempted to display his 
 
 1 This word is used queerly. It means ill-tempered, cross. 
 They say of a sick person, * He is so ill, he must be getting 
 better." 
 
78 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 horsemanship before the sisters. We all saw 
 him mount, Jerry holding the horse. The Texan 
 went on for a little space in a series of mincing 
 hops. Suddenly he flung back his mane and 
 whirled round. " An den " so Jerry de 
 scribed the catastrophe to a delighted audience 
 at the store " preacher he kep hollerin on 
 im an sawin his mouf, an sorter worritm im 
 (me tryin fur ter ca m im all the time), an all 
 ter oncet dat ar pony begun to buckjump, an , 
 by grabs, befo he cud bat is eye ter save is 
 soul, he throwed preacher clearn across the road 
 plumb into the mire en Mis Caroll s field. Dat 
 nigger, he sho tore de groun up ! De wimmin- 
 f olkses dey scraped m off. Huh ! huh ! " 
 
 Aunt Gallic, who was among the women, wit 
 nessed the scene grimly, making no comment. 
 I am sorry to say Jinny Ver shook with laugh 
 ter. u That Jerry," said she, "he done it jis 
 outer meanness ! That nigger s got a heap er 
 meanness in irn ! " Strange to say, she seemed 
 to like Jerry better for his " meanness " than 
 for all his mild good qualities. She met him at 
 the door with an old-time giggle. Friendly re 
 lations were resumed without a word of ex 
 planation. Even Aunt Callie abandoned the 
 preacher. " He don unnerstan hisself," said 
 she. 
 
 Jerry made the next attempt to unconjure the 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 79 
 
 kitchen. He spoke the devil fair ; in other words, 
 he went to see the Old Man Maggart, and of 
 fered him " two good mewl an a waggin an ten 
 dolla s an a banjo," poor Jerry ! all he had 
 in the world, " ef he would let Mis Einmuns 
 off." 
 
 But the conjurer was obdurate. Jerry came 
 home covered with mud, in a great fright. " He s 
 a turrible fellow," he kept saying," shivering 
 over his recollections " turrible fellow. Says 
 he got a ball er devil s yarn en you-all s kitchin, 
 an he do Mis Emmuns wuss n he done er ! " 
 
 " Well, yuh done yo bes , boy," said Aunt 
 Callie, less sternly than usual, " but none er 
 yuh s sharp nuff to cotch up ter de magic. 
 Have ter make out bes I kin my black seff." 
 She tried some most primitive schemes. Once 
 I overheard her addressing the dough ; " Now 
 yuh git up. I s gwine outen dis kitchin, stay 
 right smart w ile. Yuh ain t conjured widout I 
 are yeah. Yuh raise, den ! " Absences of this 
 sort were frequent. The bread was left on the 
 fender and the cake in the oven while Aunt Cal- 
 lie s turban was sorrowfully shaken over the 
 chickens outside. But not thus were the mali<m 
 
 O 
 
 powers to be wheedled ; nor was her other de 
 vice of having Jinny Yer do the actual cooking, 
 Aunt Callie advising her through the window, 
 any more successful. " Mout s well a putt my 
 
80 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 han s to t my black seff," she groaned over some 
 particularly poor cake of Jinny Yer s. " Naw, 
 chile, yuh cayn t holp me ; I don t guess no- 
 buddy kin ! " 
 
 " Mis Emmuns," said a mild and anxious 
 voice in the doorway " Mis Emmuns, I knows 
 sumfin ! " It was Jerry, who crooked one ragged 
 leg athwart the door, which he held barely ajar, 
 and thrust his head into the kitchen. 
 
 "Does ye?" said Aunt Callie, satirically, 
 " how come dat ? " 
 
 "I ben down t the sto ," continues Jerry, "an 
 they was talkin of conjurin , and Mist Ike Mil 
 ler he ben conjured p int-blank he says ef 
 a person kin smack Ole Man Maggart en the 
 face so s ter dror de blood, an kin cotch de 
 blood, fore it fall ter de groun , he cayn t hurt 
 em nur deir frien s no mo. Says hit s sho." 
 
 Aunt Callie uttered a kind of grunt of min 
 gled despair and irritation. " An whut ye 
 reckon happen ef yuh don dror de blood jis 
 right? Whut den?" 
 
 Jerry, trembling from the wool on his pate to 
 the last wrinkle of his trouser leg, gasped, " Dun 
 know." 
 
 " Yuh dun know ? " said Aunt Callie, bend 
 ing her brows and rolling her eyeballs in a truly 
 blood-curdling manner " yuh dun know ? I 
 does ! " She shooed a presumptuous fowl away 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 81 
 
 from the window without the least abatement of 
 gloom ; then, seeing that Jerry s leg still em 
 braced the door, she added : " Yuh all down t 
 de sto s turrible brash an brave, but dey ain t 
 nary un er ye darst mix wid de Ole Man Mag- 
 gart. Nur dey had n t better, needer." 
 
 " Yes, m," said Jerry, meekly. But he did 
 not go ; he cleared his throat desperately. " Mis 
 Emmuns, I I aims t go see Ole Man Maggart 
 an un con jure you all." 
 
 Caledonia s only answer was the sardonic ques 
 tion, " Does yuh like lizards, boy ? " 
 
 44 Naw, m ; I s skeered on em." 
 
 " Den leave Ole Man Maggart lone. De 
 cunjurin he guv me are pleasant an happy to 
 whut he guv yuh ef ye go monkeyin wid his 
 magic." 
 
 44 1 reckon," said Jerry, miserably ; 44 but I s 
 gwine unconjure you-uns or git killed up my 
 black seff one!" 
 
 44 Boy," said Caledonia, a little moved by this 
 devotion, 44 don yuh go. De road s mornstus 
 muddy ; yuh mire up, sho." 
 
 44 De mud s on y shoe-mouf deep, Mis Em 
 muns ; I kin make out. Well, I wisht ye well, 
 Mis Emmuns." 
 
 The ragged leg released the door, and Jerry 
 stumbled down the steps. Shortly after, he 
 presented himself in the library, clad in his Sun 
 day clothes, holding his banjo in his hand. 
 
82 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 " Miss Dora," said he, " kin I go over yon 
 der t Ole Man Maggart s ? I s aimin to un- 
 conjure you all." 
 
 " Certainly," said Dora, cheerfully we had 
 both been in the kitchen since Jerry saw Aunt 
 Gallic. " Unconjure us by all means. Take the 
 whole afternoon if you want it, and ride the big 
 mule." 
 
 " Yes, m," said Jerry. He choked a little. 
 " Mabbe I won git t come back. Say he s a 
 tumble fellow. Miss Dora, please back a letter 
 fur me please, m." He handed her the banjo, 
 to which was pinned a blank envelope. " I d like 
 fur ter have yuh put Mis Jinny Ver Emmuns 
 on it," said he ; tk she cayn t read my letters. 
 The banjo hit s fur er. An dey s my money en 
 de envelop I drored it from de sto fur 
 Miss Jinny Ver Emmuns. An I got two mewls 
 an a waggin fur Miss Jinny Ver Emmuns. 
 Please, m, put it down. An an , Miss Dora, 
 please write a few words on paper f me 
 please, m." He stood before the fireplace (and 
 why he didn t fall in I am sure I don t know, 
 he did such terrible things with his legs) as he 
 dictated : " Miss Jinny Ver Emmuns : Dear 
 friend, I reckon I m t be killed up, so I leaves 
 yuh my banjo. I won t need it in the silen 
 tomb, an anyhow they all has harps over yan- 
 der. Please, Miss Jinny Ver, don forgit me, 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 83 
 
 kase I love yuh true. I wislit I cud a heerd 
 yuh a-laffin oncet agin. I cay n t say how I 
 feel, I feel so bad. Please, Miss Jinny Ver, for 
 give me ef I ever done anything t mad yuh. 
 I d like for ter say a heap mo , but I mus be 
 movin . Please, Miss Jinny Ver, forgive the 
 liberty I taken writin . Yo frien Please, 
 in," said Jerry, " I kin write my name." So 
 he signed his name, standing on one leg like a 
 crane, and sprawling all over the paper ; but 
 he surveyed the result with mournful pride. 
 " Miss Jinny Yer Eminuns got a tumble sight 
 er eddication," he sighed. " I lowed I d go ter 
 school ef I d a-lived." 
 
 I don t justify the morality of our next pro 
 ceeding ; I admit we leaned on the Jesuits. One 
 of us no matter which took a foreign coin 
 out of her purse, saying, " That is my own pri 
 vate conjure charm, Jerry. As long as that is in 
 your pocket, neither Old Man Maggart nor any 
 one else can harm you. But if you get scared 
 you may lose it, so be bold! " 
 
 "Yes, m," said Jerry. 
 
 Anything less bold than he as he shambled off 
 it would be hard to fancy : poor black knight 
 of the rueful countenance going to dare more 
 awful peril than was faced by the white knights 
 in their steel and feathers ! It was real peril 
 to him, however it might appear to us ; he was 
 
84 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 horribly afraid, too. Yet he never flinched; 
 perhaps the grotesque creature was a bit of a 
 hero. 
 
 Nothing in particular occurred that afternoon, 
 unless I count the breaking of all the yellow 
 bowls by Jinny Ver, who thought she heard a 
 " screechin noise," and " lowed t wuz Jerry," 
 and naturally jumped. Aunt Gallic moved som 
 brely about the kitchen preparing the prodigal 
 Southern supper. She came in from the store 
 room to say that the weather was growing 
 warm so fast that all the meat was " p intedly 
 sp ilin ." She went out into the yard for eggs, 
 and reported, " Chickens all layin unner de 
 h ouse roosts dar; minks git dem least ones, 
 sho." 
 
 " Cows ain t come home, in co se," was the 
 next bulletin of doom ; " need n t speck no milk 
 t -morrer." 
 
 But she admitted that her waffle batter looked 
 "real old timey." Alas, fallacious gleam of 
 hope ! We waited to be summoned to the table, 
 but no summons came. Presently a strong smell 
 of burning food was wafted from the kitchen, 
 accompanied by smothered exclamations, and 
 then a clatter of metal. "Waffles fallen into 
 the fire, probably," said Dora. The burning 
 odor grew stronger and more complex. Smoke 
 began to drift through the gallery, through the 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 85 
 
 dining-room, into the parlor. They were run 
 ning about frantically in the kitchen. 
 
 Then the doors flew open, and Jinny Ver 
 rushed through the rooms screaming, " Quick ! 
 quick ! the stove s afire ! " 
 
 Not pausing to consider the startling anomaly 
 of a stove afire, we caught up, indiscriminately, 
 rugs, the water jug, and an empty pail, and ran 
 to the kitchen. True enough, a sheet of flame 
 enveloped the stove, smoke was rolling from the 
 charred pores of the mantel, and the air was so 
 murky that we could barely see. Besides, Jinny 
 Ver had dropped the lamp. 
 
 Dorr flung a rug at the line of dish-towels 
 behind the stove, which was making the most of 
 the illumination. " Water ! " he shouted ; " the 
 buckets ! the buckets by the sink ! " 
 
 " They s empty," whimpered Jinny Ver. 
 
 " An de pump s done broke," said Caledo 
 nia, with deadly calm. 
 
 " I 11 see about that," cried Dorr, grabbing 
 the pump handle. A rattle and a shiver, and a 
 very wrong exclamation from Dorr. Yes, un 
 doubtedly the pump was broken. 
 
 Meanwhile the wood-box had begun to blaze. 
 
 " There s the water in the rooms," cried 
 Dora. 
 
 u Naw, young miss," said Aunt Callie, lifting 
 her hand solemnly; "dat do no good. Dis 
 
86 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 kitchin sho go. I guvs it up ; I s gwine. I ain t 
 yo cook no mo ." 
 
 She flung her apron over her head in a burst 
 of emotion as surprising as it was poignant, and 
 ran blindly to the door. 
 
 With a crash the blazing kindlings tumbled 
 on the brick hearth. The line holding the tow 
 els, burned to a black wisp, gave way. and the 
 towels sank in a flaming heap beside the wood ; 
 there they turned harmlessly to charcoal. A 
 dense smoke succeeded the glare. 
 
 Caledonia stood still, and breathed heavily. 
 In a second she clapped her hands above her 
 head, and shouted " Glory ! " at the top of her 
 voice. Then, calmly as usual, she pointed to the 
 hearth, saying : " De fire done putt itseff out. 
 Yuh see, miss, ole miss, yuh all see, we s uncon- 
 jured. Dat boy do like he said. Bress de 
 Lawd ! " She made no sort of account of the 
 water Dora and I brought from the chambers 
 and flung on the mantel, though it dripped down 
 and made a perfect pool on the floor. " Yes, 
 ole miss, guv de Lawd de glory. Dat boy break 
 up de magic, else sho dis kitchin go. Jinny 
 Ver, yuh go home right way. Putt on yo good 
 dress an yo lace collar, an put somer dat cologe 
 Miss Freddy done guv ye on yo hanker , an 
 come an set by de fire twell dat boy come home, 
 kase he ar gwine keep yuh comp ny in macri- 
 
THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 87 
 
 mony. Dat boy, mabbe, don t got eddication, 
 but he got sense. Don yuh say one word. Yuh 
 don lay yo hail on a dish dis ev nin . Now I s 
 gwine cook yuh all a supper." 
 
 It was a supper to be remembered. Caledonia 
 waited on us herself. Her countenance wore a 
 gracious smile as she brought in the waffles, 
 light, crisply brown, delicious. " Looked like I 
 never git likened ter cookin in dis kitchin," said 
 she ; " but I don t guess we gwine have ony mo 
 trubbel. Jerry he done come home, an he s 
 settin long er Jinny Ver. Says he done de ole 
 man like he d orter, an it s all right. He putt 
 out his han an p intedly show me de blood. 
 Dat boy ! " 
 
 Plainly, Jerry s troubles were over. We 
 caught one glimpse of the dusky lovers, sitting 
 in very much the attitude of lovers the world 
 over, and a few stray sentences floated to us 
 through the window-glass: "Then I guv over 
 pleadin with im, an I up an hit im. I lope 
 dat mewl, an I tell ye I spilt de mud wen so 
 fas we burnt de wind. An I do over agin for 
 yuh t -morrer I wud so. Fur Oh, Miss 
 Jinny Ver ! " 
 
 Now the readers of this simple tale may think 
 what they please. All I know is that in the 
 night it grew cold, saving all our meat ; the boat 
 came back with our butter; our new potatoes 
 
88 THE CONJURED KITCHEN. 
 
 and fruit came safely ; three minks were caught 
 in our traps ; the carpenter mended the pump 
 and finished the shed. Caledonia next morning 
 made bread fit for a king, and from that day to 
 this the conjured kitchen has rested in prosper 
 ous peace. 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 IT is a large city now, where electric lights 
 blaze all night, and factory chimneys stain the 
 sky by day, and the beautiful undulating river 
 shore is scarred with railway lines, and the ar 
 chitecture has felt the touch of Richardson and 
 the American renaissance. But when Tom and 
 I first saw Atherton, looking from the deck of 
 the ferry-boat across the myriad sparkles of the 
 Mississippi, the time was 1858, and the town 
 numbered barely fifteen thousand inhabitants. 
 
 Here and there, only, was the battlemented 
 line of flat-roofed shops and warehouses broken 
 by a structure higher than three stories. The 
 hotel loomed up with its multitude of windows ; 
 and higher yet towered two enormous brick 
 buildings, flour-mill and store, from each of 
 which a red flag flaunted, bearing the inscription 
 Atherton and Temple. I had my reasons for 
 inspecting these edifices, the same reasons 
 that sent my eyes searching among the smart 
 villas on the bluffs, until they rested on a great 
 
90 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 white mansion with the lofty Corinthian columns 
 and decorated pediment of our fathers architec 
 tural pomp, and stately gardens and terraces 
 stepping downward to the glitter below. They 
 also permitted a tolerably honorable young 
 woman to listen eagerly to the conversation go 
 ing on at my elbow. The interlocutors were 
 two men, Rene de McCarthy, whom I knew, and 
 an elderly stranger. I paid little attention to 
 Rene s light figure or handsome French-Irish 
 face, but I looked with all my eyes at the 
 stranger. He was of insignificant presence, 
 short and thin, wiry, however, having broad 
 shoulders and long arms. His head appeared 
 disproportionately large, perhaps because it was 
 so thickly covered with iron-gray locks which he 
 wore brushed in a high wave over his forehead. 
 He had pushed his shining black beaver hat 
 obliquely backward over his ears. His nose was 
 of the eagle type, and his deep-sunken eyes were 
 amazingly bright. They flashed in unison with 
 his strong white teeth when he smiled, giving an 
 effect of brilliancy to his rugged and tanned 
 face. In the same way, when he frowned, his 
 shaggy eyebrows helped the savage strength 
 carved in his jaw and mouth. His dress was of 
 the best material, a satin waistcoat, and the 
 black broadcloth then esteemed the only habit 
 of dignity; nevertheless, it was so carelessly 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 91 
 
 worn and so dusty that he almost appeared 
 shabby. He wore no gloves, and was paring his 
 finger-nails in the most artless manner. Satis 
 fied with their appearance, he waved his hand at 
 the prospect. 
 
 " Don t look much like our rival now, hey ? " 
 said he. 
 
 The point on the shore that he indicated was 
 a mere hamlet ; but once, as he had been tell 
 ing Rene, it had been the county seat, a distinc 
 tion wrested from it by the town of Atherton 
 fifteen years before, mainly through the speak 
 er s own efforts. 
 
 " I tell folks that town made me first mayor 
 of Atherton," said he, jocosely; "they elected me 
 then, and they ve elected me every year since. 
 I come high, but they must have me." 
 
 I could not understand Rene s smiling atten 
 tion and deference ; to my mind, the first mayor 
 of Atherton was a vainglorious, vulgar little 
 man. 
 
 " They named the town after you, later, did n t 
 they," asked Rene, " when your store was 
 burned?" 
 
 Mr. Atherton flashed his brilliant smile on 
 him. " The store was n t burned, my son, not 
 exactly. It happened this way. The mill did 
 burn down. It was one of the coldest days in 
 the year, mercury way down to thirty below, 
 
92 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 and only reason it did n t get lower was we had 
 n t any longer thermometer. I was out on the 
 farm, and I came in on the jump. There stood 
 Billy Temple, covered with icicles, and swearing 
 like only an ex-Methodist brother can swear. I 
 sized up the situation in a minute. Blizzard 
 blowing, and water all froze up, and the houses 
 like tinder. I told Billy the only chance to save 
 the town was to make a hole big enough to stop 
 the fire. We had got to blow up our store. He 
 begun about the stock. Look a here, says I, 
 do you think I m going to see this town burned 
 to save our stock ? D the stock ! says I. 
 Billy s white. He looked at the wind and he 
 looked at the store. All right, J. D., says he, 
 d the stock ! We lit the match to our gun 
 powder Hullo, what s your hurry, friend ? " 
 
 He addressed a stalwart farmer-looking man 
 who ran across the deck, stumbling in his haste 
 and a sort of fury that was upon him. The man 
 shook his fist in Atherton s face. 
 
 " Oh, you d swindler, do you know I ve 
 failed?" cried he. He was choking with pas 
 sion, but Atherton did not change countenance. 
 
 " That s too bad," he said placidly. 
 
 " You failed me ! " screamed the farmer. 
 " You overbid me with the farmers and under 
 bid me in the market. You make your brags 
 you 11 run the produce business of this town, do 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 93 
 
 you ? You said you J d run me out of business, 
 and you ve done it. But I 11 give you reason 
 to remember Jim Ripley ! " 
 
 In an access of rage, he flung his great bulk 
 upon the mayor, who leaped nimbly aside. 
 Another onslaught, but more disastrous, since, 
 this time, the big fellow lost his balance and 
 plunged headlong against the frail guards with 
 a force that shivered them. Into the water he 
 crashed. I shrieked for Tom. My husband is 
 a magnificent swimmer. But he was already 
 overboard. Nor he alone ; there was a second 
 splash, and just behind Tom s sleek brown head 
 I saw a rift of iron-gray locks and a flash of 
 shirtsleeves forging through the waves (all the 
 while a shout ringing in my ears, " Heave the 
 rope after us ! "), and off in the boat s wake a 
 wild white face tossed like an egg-shell and two 
 black arms threshing the foam. I flew to the 
 coil of rope, to find Rene s hands readier than 
 mine. It was all over in a moment ; and they 
 were dripping on the lower deck, and every one 
 was cheering, and pocket-flasks of whiskey were 
 waving in all directions. Rene escorted me 
 downstairs. Then I realized that Tom s helper 
 and the man who was vigorously rubbing and 
 warming poor, limp, crestfallen Ripley was no 
 other than Mr. Mayor Atherton himself. His 
 loud tones filled the air : 
 
94 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Ransome, this is a funny kind of 
 introduction, ain t it ? " 
 
 But he was very cordial, and sent us to our 
 hotel in his carriage. How vividly that carriage 
 appears out of the past, one of the four then 
 in Atherton, the horses so shining, the gold- 
 plated harness so showy, the cushions so luxu 
 rious, the black coachman so majestic ! Livery 
 in those days was not common even in cities ; I 
 admired Cato s blue and brass and gold-banded 
 beaver. 
 
 Mr. Atherton smiled, well pleased at our sur 
 prise. " Don t look much like your notions of 
 the West, young lady, does it ! " he chuckled. 
 " I can tell you it ain t much like my first car 
 riage, either. That was a prairie schooner." 
 
 I recoiled from the man with his heavy voice 
 and free manner : it was a relief when he went 
 away. 
 
 " He is very good-natured," said Tom. He 
 would not join in my mockery. He kept to his 
 mayor. 
 
 " He is the great man of the town ; in fact, he 
 made it. He has shown some fine qualities," 
 said he ; " so much the better, since our future 
 depends on him." Alas, it was true to the bone : 
 on this blustering provincial magnate our future 
 did depend. 
 
 It does not concern my story how the ancient 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 95 
 
 amity of our fathers (Tom and I were betrothed 
 while we both wore petticoats) was distorted into 
 suspicion and resentment. Whose the fault 
 matters least of all, since the old foes and older 
 friends are reconciled now, in that dim land to 
 which they departed content with each other. 
 But for a time the feud was bitter. The elders 
 dissolved our betrothal. We were young, hot 
 headed ; we loved each other, and my mother 
 was dead. One can imagine such a pair s way 
 out of the tangle. We ran away and were mar 
 ried, presently finding ourselves as poor as we 
 were happy. Therefore, when Rene de McCar 
 thy, Tom s classmate at Harvard, invited Tom 
 to become assistant editor of the Atherton " Cit 
 izen" at a fair salary, the offer was promptly 
 accepted. Rene* was a young Louisianian whose 
 father was more plentifully blessed with children 
 than with money ; he had gone up the river to 
 seek his fortune. He was editor-in-chief of the 
 " Citizen, v which he explained to Tom was the 
 sole property of Mr. Jared D. Atherton, mayor 
 of the town, and its most zealous and vigilant 
 promoter ; a man of wealth, also, vast for those 
 times ; the owner of mills and farms, and houses 
 and stores. He had lavished his own money 
 on the town and drawn Eastern capital to it, 
 spreading its advantages far and wide, in a fash 
 ion very common now, but unusual enough to 
 
96 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 be original then. The " Citizen " was merely 
 another agent in the work. He cared far less 
 that it should be profitable financially than that 
 it should successfully advertise the town. Tom 
 had seen the office and was favorably impressed. 
 " Everything is 011 a liberal scale, no stinting. 
 Even our editorial sanctum has gilt paper and 
 Brussels carpet. Colors scream at each other, of 
 course, and no end of them. Rene calls it the 
 Rainbow. Atherton is liberal in other ways ; 
 no interference with the political articles except 
 that I am never to abuse a good citizen and 
 maker of Atherton. That sounds well. I am 
 to be as decent as I plea*se in my language, too : 
 another distinct advantage. Oh, he is not a bad 
 fellow, Katy." 
 
 Thus Tom talked on, happy and hopeful, and 
 I shared his mood. But the next day he had 
 gone to his office, and the exile s homesickness 
 was twitching my nerves. I was glad to re 
 ceive the cards of Mrs. J. D. Atherton and 
 Miss Bainbridge. " Very correct cards," I 
 thought, " but no doubt they are pompous, purse- 
 proud, horrid things who have come to patronize 
 me." So lonesome was I, however, that patron 
 age itself was acceptable ; it might give me 
 something to laugh over with Tom, later. 
 
 Two ladies were by themselves in the vast, 
 gaudily furnished parlors ; yet I hesitated to ad- 
 

 THE FIRST MAYOR. 97 
 
 dress them, unable to believe that either of them 
 could belong to Mr. Atherton. The elder was a 
 slender, dark-eyed, softly smiling, languid gen 
 tlewoman, whose head swayed a little to one side, 
 and whose tiny foot peeped out far enough to 
 discover a gleam of white silk stocking above 
 the low-cut and resetted shoe. She was dressed 
 in one of the bright-hued and ample-skirted silk 
 frocks of the period. What we called a mantilla, 
 of silk and black lace, slipped gracefully from 
 her shoulders. Her black hair was smoothly 
 banded under a creamy Leghorn bonnet trimmed 
 with white ribbon. Every detail of her costume 
 pleased me, being daintily fresh and fine, like 
 her embroidered collar and undersleeves of In 
 dian muslin, which were works of art. For 
 brooch, she wore a miniature set in diamonds ; 
 and there were diamonds and emeralds on her 
 beautiful hands, sparkling through the meshes 
 of her black silk mitts. 
 
 Such was the costume of a woman of fashion 
 in the days of my youth. 
 
 No sooner did my eyes fall on the wearer than 
 I recognized her right to the description, and my 
 admiration of her elegant figure and her toilet 
 was increased by the quickly following discovery 
 that she was a Southerner; for in those ante 
 bellum days the planter aristocracy furnished 
 our social ideals. 
 
98 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 The younger lady could hardly have owned 
 more than twenty years. Between the two there 
 was a plain resemblance, although the girl was 
 taller, with rounder outlines and a hint of vigor 
 ous muscles in her movements, she was lifting 
 a window. Her dress also was simpler, as be 
 came her years, but equally tasteful. She had 
 wine-brown eyes, which shone with a gentle, 
 steady radiance ; but her bright color came and 
 went uncertainly, contradicting the repose of her 
 manner and her still eyes. 
 
 The elder woman, rising very gracefully, 
 introduced herself as Mrs. Atherton, and pre 
 sented her daughter, Miss Bainbridge. Miss 
 Bain bridge merely bowed and smiled. It soon 
 appeared that she was a silent person. Mrs. 
 Atherton, however, talked fluently, in her lan 
 guid Southern fashion. She had a good deal to 
 say about the place. Service was the sore trial 
 of the Atherton housekeepers, and I afterward 
 found it a universal topic of conversation, what 
 ever the time, or place, or social rank ; then, I 
 remember, I was bewildered to have Mrs. Ather 
 ton give it so much time. She admitted that she 
 herself had little cause for complaint. They had 
 kept their old slaves ; that is, some of the house 
 servants. Mam Chloe really was a right good 
 cook, she cooked to please gentlemen ; she 
 herself preferred lighter dishes ; but she hoped 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 99 
 
 we would dine with them on the morrow, and 
 judge for ourselves. 
 
 I was won by her cordial manner and her 
 sweet voice. More and more it puzzled me that 
 she could have married Atherton. She enli^ht- 
 
 o 
 
 ened me directly, in the most unembarrassed 
 way. I had asked her if she was an old resident 
 of Atherton. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma am," she answered, smiling, 
 " old for Atherton. People never stay here long. 
 They are always coming and going. That is 
 why Mr. Atherton is trying to induce the Ger 
 mans to come here. He says they all will stay 
 and make a kind of anchor for the town. We 
 have been here ten years. We all simply came 
 on a visit to sister Elsa Cunningham, who lived 
 here then. They have moved away since. It 
 was that awful cholera year, and Colonel Bain- 
 bridge was taken ill and died. So did Tempe, 
 my maid ; and Rose was terribly sick, and sister 
 Elsa s three children. And only me to wait on 
 them, you can t imagine the horrors of that 
 time." 
 
 " We all should have died but for Mr. Ather 
 ton," said Miss Bainbridge. It was absolutely 
 her first sentence. 
 
 "Yes, he was extremely kind," said Mrs. 
 Atherton. 
 
 I fancied myself, in case Tom saved my life, 
 
100 
 
 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 assuring a stranger that he was "extremely 
 kind " ! I stole a glance at Mrs. Atherton s 
 white throat. The face on the miniature was 
 young and handsome ; it was not Atherton s 
 harsh features that she treasured. 
 
 " Colonel Bainbridge s affairs had been shame 
 fully neglected, and worse, by his overseer," she 
 continued in her plaintive, melodious tones. 
 " After his death we found ourselves almost 
 penniless. Why, Mr. Atherton had to buy our 
 slaves for us ; he had, indeed. We stayed here 
 with sister Elsa. Pa had lost so much by our 
 troubles I could n t bear to return to Charleston. 
 So a year and a month after Colonel Bainbridge 
 died, I married Mr. Atherton. He took every 
 thing off pa s hands, and somehow I m sure 
 I don t know how he has made money enough 
 to pay pa back. He always does make money," 
 she added carelessly. 
 
 I could see that Miss Bainbridge was wincing 
 under her good manners, though she said not a 
 word. The whole history was clear enough now. 
 The helpless Southern woman had accepted the 
 strong arm tendered her simply because it was 
 strong. She did not love her husband. I made 
 a nervous effort to divert the conversation into 
 safer channels, saying something about Mr. 
 Atherton doing so much good with his money, 
 giving so much to the town. 
 
THE FIRST WAY OR. 101 
 
 " I tell Mr. Atherton he is crazy over this 
 town," said Mrs. Atherton, opening an elaborate 
 sandal wood fan and softly waving it. "Pray 
 don t encourage his mania, Mrs. Ransome. He 
 has given a park, and a hospital, and a ceme 
 tery, besides subscribing to everything. He 
 gives to every church. He nearly built the Epis 
 copal church. We all are members, you know, 
 not he himself ; oh, no, ma am, he never goes 
 to church ; stays home and looks over accounts, 
 and plays on the jew s-harp by himself." 
 
 I must have stared, in spite of my will to keep 
 my eyes out of the window, for I saw Miss Bain- 
 bridge s color rise. Naturally I made the situa 
 tion worse by an imbecile murmur of not know 
 ing that Mr. Atherton was musical. 
 
 " I should n t call him musical," answered 
 Mrs. Atherton, dryly. " He likes nigger songs 
 and hymns. There he is now, Rose, with Mr. 
 Temple. Mr. Temple has all the virtues, Mrs. 
 Ransome. Have you ever observed how unin 
 teresting all the virtues are in a man? " 
 
 If Mr. Temple had all the virtues, he had 
 none of the graces. I found him a large, faintly 
 colored, taciturn man, whose only spark of ani 
 mation was struck out by his partner s sallies ; 
 but my heart warmed to his bashfulness, after 
 Mr. Atherton s bravado. This is ungrateful, 
 since the latter, on this occasion, bragged not at 
 
; THK FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 all, and very shortly retired with Temple to the 
 outskirts of the conversation. 
 
 We soon grew familiar with the town. It was 
 like hundreds of other Western towns in its 
 stage of growth, crude, inharmonious (" a 
 tawdry sort of civilization," Tom called it), yet 
 with a sound core of Puritan conscience, and 
 groping towards splendid possibilities. Half the 
 streets were unpaved, in spite of the mayor s 
 efforts, but they were picturesque with " prairie 
 schooners," and resounded with a din of traffic 
 and building. Some of the dwelling-houses 
 were well planned and ample mansions, set back 
 in shady grounds, but the business architecture 
 was mean. One single exception do I recall, 
 Thorne and Quincy s bank, which had a marble 
 fa$ade, with acanthus leaves carved on the cor 
 nices, and imposing marble steps curving out 
 ward into the street. Neither Mr. Atherton s 
 mill nor store could vie with this ; both being 
 simply huge iron-and-brick structures, bare and 
 ugly to the last degree. The mill was the lar 
 gest flour-mill west of the Mississippi. The 
 store was a vast bazaar, where everything from 
 millinery to drugs made a grotesque panorama 
 for the buyer. Rene de McCarthy introduced 
 me to the store. He was in high favor with Mr. 
 Atherton ; in fact, it was understood that he was 
 to marry Miss Bainbridge. I had occasion to 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 103 
 
 buy a few small articles, and I was surprised to 
 be handed, in change, two bits of yellow and 
 blue pasteboard : the yellow bit authorizing me 
 to receive twenty-five cents worth of Israel 
 Finch s " excelsior bread " at the Atherton Bak 
 ery, and the blue bit good for " one dish of pure 
 ice cream at the Palace Restaurant." My amaze 
 ment pleased Rene, who explained that, silver 
 coin being scarce at the West, the shopkeepers 
 wits had fallen upon this device. While he 
 spoke, a man in a floury coat walked up to a 
 high desk near us, demanding " the old man." 
 He looked so good-humored that I was a mo 
 ment or so in recognizing our tragic friend of 
 the ferry-boat, Mr. Ripley. Truly, I was not 
 sure of his identity until Mr. Atherton s head 
 peered over the desk-rail, and he called cheer 
 fully :- 
 
 " Hello, Ripley ! come for the money ? I 11 
 get it. That you, Renny ? And Mrs. Ran- 
 some ? Well, we are favored this morning ; 
 sun shines and you come to see us. Don t you 
 two want a peep at my private bank? " 
 
 I felt rather dazed, but Rene, as a matter of 
 course, ushered me up two flights of stairs into a 
 bare room that had been partitioned off from the 
 carpet ware-room. It was not only plainly fur 
 nished ; the furniture was bizarre : there were 
 a couple of shabby rocking-chairs clad in black 
 
104 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 haircloth, a marble-topped centre-table, and a 
 rickety desk. The walls were plastered and 
 whitened, and against this dead whiteness two 
 daguerreotypes, framed in black, had a sickly 
 yellow aspect. The other decorations were a 
 map of Atherton and a pencil - drawing of a 
 tomb. This latter was a florid design represent 
 ing a very stiff angel playing a harp with her 
 left hand to a group of children, all disposed 
 about the conventional broken shaft. One of the 
 daguerreotypes was the picture of three plain 
 and solemn children ; the other, of one plain and 
 solemn woman ; and, as in a flash, it was clear 
 to me that the children of the daguerreotype and 
 the children of the monument were model and 
 copy, while the woman s high forehead and long 
 nose were faithfully repeated in the angel s face. 
 But the angel essayed a smile. 
 
 During my frivolous criticisms Atherton was 
 unlocking his desk. He pulled out a great pack 
 age of crisp, new bank-notes, cutting them apart 
 with a pair of shears, after which he dated and 
 signed half a dozen notes, and pushed them over 
 to Eipley, who departed with them. 
 
 " Guess a thief would n t make much break 
 ing into my bank," was Atherton s comment. 
 " Like to see the bills, Mrs. Kansome ? Here s 
 a gold check, too." 
 
 The first engraving had all the outward sem- 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 105 
 
 blance and texture of a bank-note, save that the 
 legend thereon was different, reading as follows : 
 " Six months from date, Atherton and Temple 
 will pay the Bearer, on demand, TEN DOLLARS 
 in current funds ." The other note specified a 
 longer time, and the payment was to be in gold. 
 
 Atherton went on to tell Rene about the gold 
 checks : how his clerks were instructed to offer 
 the other checks first, and only give gold checks 
 when they were demanded. " Then we can work 
 Florence on them," said he, slyly. " Fact is, our 
 checks are good as any money, banks take 
 em, railroad and ferry take em, stores all take 
 em ; but sometimes they ain t satisfied ; come 
 in and want money. We hand them over Flor 
 ence, and like as not they go to Thorne and 
 Quincy with that, and want them to cash it and 
 get our checks. Current funds, you know. We 
 call it swapping oats." 
 
 " Where is Florence, anyhow ? " asked Rene. 
 " I know the Florence money is Thorne and 
 Quincy s issue, but it is redeemable at the bank 
 of Florence, it says on the bills. Where is the 
 town ? " 
 
 " Nebraska," answered Atherton, with a grin. 
 
 " 1 thought the Territory of Nebraska was all 
 a wilderness," said I, innocently. 
 
 u So they say," said Atherton. " I ain t never 
 been there, so I can t tell you." 
 
106 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 " You hardly will go there with your Flor 
 ence, will you ? " asked Eene. 
 
 44 1 guess not," acquiesced Mr. Atherton. " Do 
 you know, though, that Billy, last year, sorted 
 out all the Indiana bills we found in our safe, 
 twenty odd thousand dollars, take them by 
 and around, worth eighty cents on the dollar ; 
 and I assure you he put them in his carpet-sack, 
 and went all through Indiana to the different 
 banks that issued them and got ninety-five cents 
 on the dollar. Pretty good for wild-cat money, 
 hey ? But Nebraska is too far away." 
 
 " Mr. Temple got more out of them then than 
 he would now, 1 reckon," said Eene. 
 
 Atherton nodded. " Bill s cautious. But he s 
 got plenty of pluck, too. Never knew him to 
 be fazed but once : that was just before the 
 Crimean war, when I wanted to buy up the 
 wheat crop." 
 
 44 He did feel shaky then ? " 
 
 Atherton showed his brilliant smile. " Well, 
 you see there was a thundering big wheat crop 
 that year, and prices were way down, and no 
 body believed there was going to be a war but 
 me. When I saw how Billy took it, 4 All right, 
 says I. 4 You stay out. I 11 go in on my own 
 hook.* But Billy says, 4 No, sir; it has been 
 Atherton and Temple too long for that ; we 11 
 see the circus together. That s Billy. Well, 
 
THE FIRST MA YOR. 107 
 
 Mrs. Ransome, he went in and worked like a 
 beaver. We did n t do so badly, neither. Wheat 
 we paid fifty cents for sold in New York for 
 two fifty. Mighty interesting while it lasted." 
 
 He smiled again, and we went downstairs to 
 gether. But when I told Tom about it all, and 
 how nice it looked to see Mr. Atherton tearing 
 off money like postage-stamps, he did not smile. 
 Indeed, I had already noticed that while Mr. 
 Atherton grew on my imagination, Tom s admi 
 ration seemed rather to wane. I described the 
 visit, sitting at ease in the Rainbow, where I 
 was often admitted to the privileges of the sym 
 posium. Ah me, what innocent little revels we 
 had there, when Rene would bring the beer foam 
 ing in the water-jug, and I supplied the rever 
 sion of our best dinners ! I often think, recall 
 ing those kind men s plaudits of my cookery, 
 that the hopes of youth are only equaled by its 
 digestion. To-day, however, Tom seemed in a 
 desponding mood. " Confound all this wild-cat 
 money ! " he burst forth. " Atherton ought to 
 know better than to encourage such a craze. He 
 wants me to write an editorial in the Citizen 
 about the money here, showing how solid the 
 security is. What do I know about the secur 
 ity ? I won t do it ! " 
 
 "Oh, hush thee, my baby ! " sang Rene, mock 
 ingly. " Don t fly off the handle, Tommy ; I 11 
 
108 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 write the unprincipled financial articles, because 
 I don t know enough about finance to have any 
 principles ; and I believe in Jared D. Atherton, 
 of Atherton. He made this town, and I don t 
 reckon," said Rene, slipping into the vernacular, 
 " he lows to ruin it." 
 
 Mr. Atherton was a favorite theme with us. 
 He towered above the other local personages. 
 There were half a dozen lawyers and doctors, 
 the owner of a steamboat line, and, notably, 
 Thome and Quincy, the bankers. General 
 Quincy kept a hospitable house. His table, his 
 carriage, his handsome wife s jewels, were the 
 town s admiration. His partner, the Honorable 
 Rufus Thorne, was a dignified old gentleman, 
 who clung to his shirt-ruffles and walked with a 
 gold-headed cane. Though a bachelor, he gave 
 splendid entertainments in his great house, and 
 his wine cellar was famous. Every week, also, 
 General Quincy, Mr. Temple, and Mr. Atherton 
 met in Mr. Thome s parlor and played whist with 
 all " the rigor of the game." But neither Gen 
 eral Quincy nor Mr. Thorne could vie with Ath 
 erton in the popular affection. They were both 
 proud men, hugging all their Eastern prejudices 
 of birth and breeding, holding the society of the 
 frontier at arm s-length, even while they feasted 
 and amused it. Rene ironically compared them 
 with the Roman emperors lavishing corn and pa- 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 109 
 
 geants on their subjects. Atherton, richer than 
 any of the other rich men, had not an atom of 
 hauteur about him ; if he bragged, it was in the 
 most sociable way in the world. He may have 
 been a bit of a charlatan ; he certainly was not 
 squeamish ; he could be cruel ; but he was open- 
 handed as the day, gay, good-humored, mag 
 nificent in his schemes, and devoted to the in 
 terests of the town. As a citizen, only William 
 Temple had any comparable qualities, and he 
 was content to be Atherton s echo. 
 
 " He is Atherton s first citizen because he de 
 serves to be ! " declaimed Rene. 
 
 u I don t question his devotion," said Tom, 
 this was on a later occasion ; indeed, the speech 
 was one of many that our friend was wont to 
 pour on us, " the end is very laudable ; but 
 I do question his means. I don t believe he is 
 going to advance the interests of this town by 
 lying about it : those circulars " 
 
 " I admit they are not true, just at this pres 
 ent," laughed Rene, flinging back his black curls, 
 " but Atherton argues that they are bound to 
 be true very shortly. He is only anticipating." 
 
 Tom gave an impatient sigh. " You are all 
 anticipating. That is the mischief of it. Your 
 banks issue money that they can 110 more re 
 deem than they can fly. Your farmers are pay 
 ing twenty and thirty and forty per cent, on 
 
110 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 borrowed money. Your merchants are in the 
 same box. Why, man, I was in the county 
 clerk s office, the other day, to look up some 
 titles. The whole county is mortgaged ! It is 
 awful ! What do you expect will be the end of 
 it all?" 
 
 "Eiches and prosperity," answered Rend, 
 gravely ; " that is what I expect. And Ather- 
 ton also. You don t consider our resources. 
 When Atherton came here, there was only a lit 
 tle huddle of houses. To him more than to any 
 body else the change is due. He saw the possi 
 bilities. He bought land steadily ; and he sold 
 it seasonably, too. He saw that if this country 
 was to be opened up, the farmers must have a 
 market for their produce, and he bought the 
 first wagon -load of grain hauled to town, 
 bought it without knowing what he should do 
 with it. That s the way he got into business. It 
 was the same with pork-packing. Nobody else 
 ventured, so he went in. I know now he makes 
 an end of the small dealers very summarily " 
 
 " Take Mr. Eipley for example," said I. 
 
 Eene, as his custom was, walked the floor 
 while he talked ; he stopped short to face me. 
 " Yes, Mrs. Eansome, why not ? " he cried. " He 
 ran Eipley out of the business. No doubt about 
 it. Then I don t say a word about the sav 
 ing his life, because that s irrelevant then he 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. Ill 
 
 takes him into his own employ, pays him more 
 salary than he could make money out of his old 
 business, and lends him money to lift the mort 
 gage on his house. Ripley never would have 
 succeeded in business for himself, he knows 
 it as well as anybody; but he makes a first- 
 rate man under some one else. And I can tell 
 you Atherton hasn t a warmer or more loyal 
 partisan in this town than he." 
 
 " I m not denying he is a leader," said Tom. 
 
 " Well, I should say so ! " cried Rene*. " Just 
 let me tell you something. At one time, early 
 in his mayoralty, there was a lawless organiza 
 tion in this county ; robbery and murder and all 
 sorts of wickedness kept honest men in terror. 
 Well, he, more than any one man, put it down. 
 He planned a foray against them, starting out 
 apparently alone, with a heap of gold in an old 
 rawhide trunk. Every year he did go to St. 
 Louis for gold (he ran a sort of bank until he 
 got Thorne and Quincy to start one), and there 
 was no suspicion. He bagged half the gang; 
 killed one man with his own hand in the skir 
 mish, and brought the others back to town, 
 where he had the court sitting, and the jury 
 ready, and a man hired to hang them ; and 
 hanged they were, every mother s son of them, 
 the next day. There was no more difficulty 
 with outlaws in this county." 
 
112 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 " He kill a man himself ! " I could not re 
 strain the exclamation. " Does n t it make him 
 miserable? " 
 
 " Not him," replied Rene ; " he is n t sensi 
 tive ; he has lived too adventurous a life. He 
 started as an Indian trader^ you know. Every 
 year he used to load his boat with supplies and 
 go up the river and barter with the Indians. 
 Then he made money enough to start a general 
 store, and was married. His first wife was a 
 school-teacher ; plain as they make them, but a 
 very intelligent woman. You know Atherton 
 has always been an enthusiast about public 
 schools ; gave the land for the first school him 
 self. That is partially due to her. They say 
 that she taught him to read. I don t believe 
 that story; but I reckon she did teach him 
 almost everything else. He has the greatest 
 opinion of her. Did you notice that office fur 
 niture, the day we were there, Mrs. Ransom e ? 
 Queer furniture for an office, was n t it ? Well, 
 it used to be the furniture of their parlor before 
 he built Overlook. Those daguerreotypes are the 
 pictures of his first wife and his three children, 
 all dead. That pencil-sketch shows the mon 
 ument he built to them in the cemetery which he 
 gave the town. He thinks the poor woman was 
 a beauty, and he insisted on the sculptor mak 
 ing the angel at the tomb a statue of her. She 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 113 
 
 was left-handed, so you will observe that the an 
 gel plays with the left hand. It is funny, but I 
 think it is pathetic too. The poor soul loved 
 him devotedly, and slaved herself to death in 
 those hard frontier days for him. I always felt 
 sorry that she must die before Overlook was 
 finished." 
 
 " Did Mr. Atherton feel badly ? " 
 
 " He was quite broken up, at first. But he 
 rallied, and went on with the house for the chil 
 dren. He is a man of phenomenal vitality. 
 Blows that would kill another man hardly maim 
 him. Take the case of those children. They 
 all three died in the cholera time. He took care 
 of them himself ; and Temple used to come over 
 every day, stand under the window, and get di 
 rections about the mill and store. He had the 
 city clerk do the same. One day, he came to 
 the window as usual, told Temple how he had 
 better secure a certain contract, and was going 
 away, when Temple asked how the children were. 
 4 Jay s dead, and Bella s dying ! said Ather 
 ton, and burst out crying. But, great heavens ! 
 think of the iron nerve of the man ! He did 
 cave in when the last child, the baby, died. 
 He seemed sunk in a kind of stupor; they 
 could n t rouse him. Temple tried the house and 
 business, not a sign. Finally, in sheer de 
 spair he blubbered something about the cholera 
 
114 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 being awful bad in town. And they re just 
 crazy with fright, and you can t help them, 
 sobbed he, and they have n t any hospital. 
 Atherton popped his head out like a flash. 
 4 Why in blank don t the fools take this house ? 
 he growled. Sure enough, the town had roused 
 him. He went out and took charge of every 
 thing. Even Torn admits his sanitary measures 
 were wise." 
 
 44 You know quite well I am only too glad to 
 praise him when I can," said Tom. 
 
 Rene wore an air of raillery. " I must tell 
 you, Tom, that he admires madame ; she reminds 
 him of his first wife." 
 
 44 Who was particularly plain," I observed. 
 
 " And madame is particularly the reverse," 
 replied Rene, making me a very fine bow ; " but 
 you will remember that he considers his Nellie 
 the fairest of her sex. Madame is tall and slen 
 der, and has dark eyes and long lashes, and, he 
 says, the same kind, sweet smile." 
 
 I laughed at Rene, but I confess that I was 
 softened. Indeed, I had been most ungrateful 
 were this not the case. The Athertons were 
 kind in a hundred ways. How often we had 
 reason to praise Mam Chloe s admirable din 
 ners ! How familiar the luxurious rooms of 
 Overlook grew to us ! In how many ways we 
 poverty-stricken exiles were made free of their 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 115 
 
 best ! There comes a clicking feeling in my 
 throat, sometimes, recalling it all. I had grown 
 well acquainted with both women, especially Rose 
 Bainbridge ; and when she told me, in the sum 
 mer, that her mother and she were going away 
 for some months, my dismay was so great that 
 the silly tears rushed to my eyes. Miss Bain- 
 bridge surveyed me with her still face and wist 
 ful eyes. Presently she said : " I like you to be 
 sorry ; I don t want to go. I know how you 
 feel about being here. When I was first here, 
 I used to cry myself to sleep, every night, I 
 was so lonesome. I hated the people here, and 
 I detested Mr. Atherton." She hesitated, but 
 her unwonted tide of confidence bore her on 
 ward as if in spite of herself : " What do you 
 think ? I tried to stab him with a penknife, the 
 day he married mamma." She laughed, but 
 with reddening cheeks. 
 
 " Oh, you poor little passionate thing ! " cried 
 I, and before I knew it I had kissed her. 
 
 " Thank you," said she, quietly, and laid her 
 hand a second on mine. 
 
 " What did he do ? " I could not restrain my 
 curiosity. 
 
 " He was very good to me indeed. He held 
 me out with both arms and looked at me. My 
 heart beat so hard I reckon he could hear it, but 
 I would not struggle, only I could n t help trem- 
 
116 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 bling. Poor little fluttering birdie, said he, 
 in a very gentle, kind voice, you won t mind my 
 marrying your mamma, by and by. We re go 
 ing to be great friends, you and I. She 
 laughed. " We are, now," said she. 
 
 She said no more, being interrupted; but 
 many times did I ponder her words. 
 
 They were gone a long time ; it was summer 
 when I bade Rose good-by, and the February 
 snows were melting before they returned. Rene 
 was gloomy ; and I know Mr. Atherton missed 
 them, though he never complained. Whatever 
 his feelings for his wife (I admit candidly that 
 I never decided whether ambition, or pity, or af 
 fection had most to do with that marriage), he 
 indisputably loved his step-daughter. Poor fel 
 low ! he used to brag about her exactly as he 
 bragged about Atherton. He needed her, too, 
 for in December a great blow fell on him : his 
 partner, Temple, died after a brief illness. Be 
 fore men s eyes Atherton bore the blow like a 
 man of iron. During the funeral services not a 
 quiver disturbed his rigid features. Afterwards, 
 he never of his own accord mentioned his part 
 ner s name, and he knew how to check any talk 
 about him from others. But it was observed 
 that he no longer went to the Thorne whist par 
 ties ; and he was more than generous to Temple s 
 widow. Rene grew warm over the matter. " Mrs. 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 117 
 
 Temple always was a goose, but she was an ami 
 able, decent sort of goose " so ran Rene s ver 
 sion " until her brother, East, got hold of 
 her. He does n t believe in Western security, 
 and he is going to get every cent, almost, out of 
 the business ; and Atherton won t say a word 
 because she is Temple s wife." 
 
 " I am afraid it will cripple him to pay," said 
 Tom. 
 
 Rene replied gayly that Atherton always fell 
 on his feet. Had n t he lost two hundred thou 
 sand dollars at a blow, from the decline of prices 
 consequent on the Czar s death, and never cared ? 
 " Temple looked awfully blue," said Rene. " I 
 was dining with Atherton when he came and 
 told him. That s bad, Billy, says Atherton, 
 4 but as there s nothing we can do about it, you 
 may as well sit down and take a glass of 49 
 port. It wasn t put on, either; because that 
 night I stayed at the house, and I was reading 
 that confounded 4 Uncle Tom s Cabin book, and 
 I was up late, when I heard the funniest little 
 drumming, rasping sound, I could n t make 
 out what it was. So suspecting it might be a 
 burglar, I stole downstairs and peeped into the 
 library. What do you suppose I saw ? Mr. Ath 
 erton, if you please, playing 4 Old Folks at Home 
 on the jew s-harp. I give you my word, Tom, 
 I thought I could n t get upstairs before I 
 
118 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 should have to laugh. There he sat as solemn 
 and happy, strumming away, the funniest 
 sight! But when I did get upstairs, somehow 
 I did n t want to laugh. He had lost two hun 
 dred thousand dollars, and he took it as lightly 
 as that. The sight was something else besides 
 funny." 
 
 But Tom answered that Mr. Atherton s losses 
 were not entirely past, that he was still crip 
 pled by them. Prices had continued low ; there 
 had been three years of bad crops. " I don t 
 see the end of it," said Tom. But he kept these 
 forebodings from me, because, in those days, life 
 was bitterly hard to me : my first little son was 
 born in the winter, and lived only a month. 
 Strange to say, one of my greatest comforts was 
 Mr. Atherton s utterly silent sympathy. In 
 February, the Athertojis returned. I remem 
 ber what a brilliant day it was when I saw Mrs. 
 Atherton s languid, smiling face and her beauti 
 ful furs whirling by in her new sleigh. Hardly 
 an hour later, her maddened horses flung the 
 sleigh against the railway track ; and they lifted 
 her, never again to be glad or sorry or vain in 
 this world. She had been kind to me, and I 
 mourned for her. I must think, whatever the 
 chill of their relations, that her husband mourned 
 her, also. He looked years older, though he 
 kept a stout front ; and he complained of physi- 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 119 
 
 cal ailments, an unprecedented thing with him, 
 consulted a doctor, and gave up his daily 
 walk to town. But it was now no secret that he 
 was harassed by business anxieties. That year 
 the crops failed again. Up to July there was 
 promise of a bountiful harvest. Then came 
 weeks of rain. The soaked grain was beaten 
 over the fields. The blight, the mildew, the rust, 
 ill-omened names that became so wofully famil 
 iar, what misery they wrought ! Some of the 
 farmers did not even try to gather their crop. 
 Wiser they than their neighbors who could not 
 sell their ruined sheaves. The potatoes and the 
 onions fared better, but prices were very low. 
 To increase the disorder of the time, no one any 
 longer had confidence in our money. Banks 
 were suspending everywhere. A bank-note 
 worth a dollar in the morning might be worth 
 less by night. One note that Tom gave me he 
 said was worth eighty cents ; they called it fifty 
 at the first store where it was offered, but it was 
 valued only at twenty cents before I came home 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 The following day I saw a strange spectacle 
 on the levee. A farmer deliberately backed his 
 wagon loaded with potatoes into the river ; then 
 swearing frantically, he kicked out the tail 
 board and dumped the whole load of potatoes 
 into the current. This seemed so unaccount- 
 
120 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 able a proceeding to me that I described it to 
 Tom. 
 
 "Poor beggar," said he. "I suppose he 
 could n t sell his potatoes at any price. I my 
 self saw three loads left on the street. Katy, it 
 looks bad, bad." 
 
 Times did not mend with colder weather. 
 More than once was the " Citizen s " rhetoric de 
 manded by " currency riots," and once Atherton 
 dispersed a dangerous mob with the fire depart 
 ment, turning the hose on a few truculent spirits. 
 His influence was still potent, and he was nomi 
 nated as usual for mayor. Late in the autumn 
 he went East to raise money. During his ab 
 sence misfortunes thickened about him. Some 
 of his heaviest debtors failed ; a cyclone blew 
 down one of his mills in an adjoining town ; and 
 the very day of his return home, Temple s 
 nephew, a young man well liked and trusted by 
 him, ran away with several thousand dollars in 
 gold, hoarded to pay the gold checks. Tom said 
 then that further fight was useless. Even Rene 
 looked haggard and dejected. " Thorne and 
 Quincy are in the hole, too," he muttered. 
 " They can t help. They re looking to Ather 
 ton to help them." 
 
 Little sleep did any of us have that night. 
 Morning broke wan and chill, a true dawn of 
 calamity. Tom went to the office. I went out into 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 121 
 
 the streets, and was impressed by the unwonted 
 throngs on the sidewalks, like a holiday, only 
 the crowd wore no holiday air. Women hus 
 tled the men. The faces of all were sullen and 
 anxious, while some of the women s faces looked 
 bloated with weeping. I observed, moreover, 
 that the motion on every side was towards one 
 central point : the mass of human beings pressed, 
 struggled, and fought onward to the white mar 
 ble steps of Thome and Quincy s bank. Near 
 noon, a neighbor ran to my house crying that 
 there was a run on the bank, and that she should 
 lose everything. I counseled her to withdraw 
 her savings at once, since they were deposited 
 in her name. She said that she would only run 
 home to take her bread out of the oven, and then 
 go. But when she reached the street she found 
 herself caught in the crowd as in a wedge, and 
 before she could push forward she heard the 
 roar of rage and misery which told her that the 
 bank doors were shut. Thorne and Quincy had 
 suspended. 
 
 The woman esteemed herself ruined. Really 
 her fortune was made, for the bank eventually 
 paid their depositors in full, giving Western 
 lands ; and the farm she thus secured is now in 
 the heart of a city. Thanks to that " broken 
 bank " she became rich. But who was to pro 
 phesy such mitigation of disaster ? The business 
 
122 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 of the whole town turned on the pivot of Thorne 
 and Quincy s bank and Atherton s mill. At 
 half-past one o clock the bank suspended. By 
 three o clock it was bruited about that Atherton 
 refused to cash his gold checks. Tom did not 
 come to eat my carefully prepared chicken-pie. 
 Incessantly people passed, always in one direc 
 tion, always with haste. I saw Mr. Shiras High, 
 the sheriff, drive by in a buggy with two men, 
 galloping his horse through the half-frozen mud. 
 I could endure the tension of waiting no longer. 
 Faster and faster I saw women flying down the 
 streets, bareheaded in the bitter December air, 
 wringing their hands and shrieking questions 
 that the wind took away. The contagion of 
 fright and excitement seized me ; I too ran out 
 on the street. 
 
 My first thought was to get to Tom. I found 
 the street in front of the " Citizen " office black 
 with people, a sight very strange and frightful 
 to me. But my heart stood still when Tom came 
 out and addressed the crowd. They would have 
 hissed him, but his first words quieted them. 
 He said that the office and all Mr. Atherton s 
 other property were in the hands of the sheriff ; 
 any damage done thereto would only injure the 
 creditors. Meanwhile, the Atherton " Citizen " 
 would be issued as usual. " An Extra contain 
 ing all the facts of the late failures," said Tom, 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 123 
 
 " is now for sale in our counting-room. Price 
 ten cents." With that he withdrew, and Rene. 
 in his shirt-sleeves, appeared and displayed a 
 placard with flaming head-lines : 
 
 THE CITY SHAKEN ! 
 THOKNE AND QUINCY SUSPEND! ATHERTON 
 
 GOES UNDER 
 
 CLAIM THAT THE ASSETS WILL COVER EVERY 
 THING ! 
 
 There was more below the shoulders that I 
 could not see. Apparently either the Extra or 
 the editor s coolness appeased the crowd, al 
 though they had gathered to mob the editors as 
 confederates of Atherton ; for now there arose a 
 rough laugh, and like magic the black mass of 
 hats scattered, while those who remained walked 
 peacefully into the office to buy their Extras. 
 
 I now found little difficulty in reaching the 
 building. Tom was for reproaching me at first, 
 but he ended by devouring his pie. But Rene 
 was past eating. " The game s up, madame," 
 said he, with a miserable smile. 
 
 " How does he bear it ? " said L 
 
 For a little I did not consider the catastrophe 
 to our own hopes. I only saw one figure out 
 lined against the stormy western sky. He was 
 the provincial lord that CaBsar would have been 
 rather than the second in Rome. Behold, his 
 
124 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 lordship was wrested from him, and his house 
 left unto him desolate ! 
 
 " He bears it like a gentleman ! " cried Rene. 
 " He mortgaged his farms, Overlook, everything, 
 and he brought seventy thousand dollars home 
 with him, and planked every dollar of it down 
 to save the bank. And it was no use. I tell 
 you it s mighty hard. Poor Thome cried like 
 a baby when it was all over. I wish to God we 
 had n t touched a cent of your money ! says he 
 to Atherton. Oh, quit that ! says Atherton. 
 I was on your paper enough to ruin me. We d 
 both pulled through if it had n t been for that 
 young Temple. That is what /call high-toned." 
 
 " It was," said Tom. " But, Rene, what s the 
 feeling outside ? " 
 
 " Damnable. The town s ruined. The poor 
 devils of farmers have nothing to pay their in 
 terest with, and have got to lose their farms, and 
 they all are raving at Atherton. The Demo 
 cratic committee want him to come off the ticket. 
 He said he did n t propose to resign under fire. 
 I m sorry too. C est magnijiqve, mais ce n est 
 pas la guerre." 
 
 " If the election only were n t to-morrow," 
 said Tom. 
 
 " But it is," replied Rene. " He 11 be beaten 
 awfully. You don t know the monstrous lies 
 afloat. They say he s kept the money he raised 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 125 
 
 East, and that he s in with Temple. They are 
 wild, Tom. Oh, it s hideous," Rene groaned, 
 dropping his flimsy mask of levity, "the sto 
 ries I ve heard, the sights I ve seen to-day! 
 Poor women, widows who thought their nar 
 row incomes safe, laboring people who brought 
 their savings to Atherton, thinking he was safe, 
 anyhow My God, what a load for one man 
 to carry ! And we can do nothing." 
 
 " Nothing but write the morning editorial," 
 said Tom. And the New Englander went dog 
 gedly to work, while the Southerner paced the 
 floor, aflame with rage and grief. 
 
 The next day I shall remember all my life. 
 Writ after writ poured in on Atherton. He 
 sat upstairs in his office, and rocked in the 
 worn armchair, and tried to explain the great 
 pile of ledgers before him, while outside a mob 
 of desperate men and women howled their 
 curses at the man whom they had loved and 
 trusted to their own undoing. One Irish wash 
 erwoman who had a crippled son to keep, and 
 who had loaned all her savings to Atherton, 
 clambered through a locked window and ran 
 upstairs, all bleeding from the broken glass, to 
 grovel at his feet, shrieking for her money. 
 They had to take her away by force. 
 
 " It will be all right, Mrs. Kelly, it will be 
 all right," he kept repeating, while the strug- 
 
126 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 gling, frantic creature was dragged down the 
 stairs, cursing him. "Now, gentlemen," said 
 he, calmly, " where were we ? " But Tom, who 
 was there to explain the " Citizen s " books, could 
 see that he furtively wiped his face with his 
 hand, yet the men were wearing overcoats in 
 the room because of the chill. He betrayed 
 no other sign of distress. Only when the win 
 ter day had waned, and lamps were brought, and 
 he rose to find another ledger, he fumbled a bit 
 over the leaves, saying, " I don t know as I can 
 go straight to the place, gentlemen. Temple 
 used to take these accounts. I I miss Temple 
 a good deal." 
 
 On the streets, the tumult waxed more furi 
 ous every hour. Half a dozen firms had failed. 
 Men whose credit a week before had been un 
 questionable were pleading as if for their lives 
 with the stanch little bank that weathered the 
 storm. In fine, the town believed itself ruined 
 by Atherton and his friends. One weapon to 
 strike the arch-traitor lay ready in every vot 
 er s hand. Long before dark the Republican 
 candidate for mayor was elected by an over 
 whelming majority. Poor Kipley, whose loyalty 
 was not discreet, was beaten into a pitiable ob 
 ject at the polls. Atherton heard of the fray. 
 His comment was bitter. " Rats are wiser than 
 men : they skip out of a sinking ship." 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 127 
 
 Rose and I called for him with the carriage 
 after dusk. Tom jumped up on the box, and 
 Rene appeared at the same time and jumped in 
 after Mr. Atherton. " Quick ! " cried Tom, in a 
 sharp undertone. Instantly I knew why he 
 spoke ; then it was too late. The street at right 
 angles to the little dark street where we waited 
 was all at once luridly gay with the flare of 
 torches, and penetrated with the tramp of feet, 
 shouts, yells, the clangor of brass, the throbbing 
 roll of drums. The light blazed on a great white 
 banner, dancing aloft so near that the hateful 
 black sentences jumped at our eyes : 
 
 HONEST JOHN HARTER THE NEXT MAYOR OF 
 ATHERTON ! 
 
 HONEST MONEY AND AN HONEST MAYOR! 
 NAME OF THE TOWN TO BE CHANGED ! 
 
 We were turned, the next instant, and splash 
 ing through the mud, our backs to the procession. 
 
 Atherton spoke first, to Rene : "Is Harter 
 elected?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Rene. 
 
 " What are the figures ? " 
 
 Rene lied unhesitatingly : " I don t know, sir." 
 
 There fell a heavy silence before Mr. Atherton 
 spoke again : " Do they think of changing the 
 name of the town ? " 
 
128 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 " Oh, that s only some fool talk of the rab 
 ble," said Rene. 
 
 Mr. Atherton did not make any comment. 
 The rest of us kept up a feeble chatter at first, 
 among ourselves ; but we were sensible that it 
 availed nothing. Soon, therefore, mute as he, 
 we looked out on the dwindling line of lights, 
 the sombre hillsides with their fret of black 
 boughs against a leaden sky, and at last the dark 
 oaks of Overlook and the stately white columns 
 and pediment, unsubstantial and faintly drawn 
 in that waning light. Mr. Atherton pushed the 
 window slides down and gazed long and steadily. 
 God knows what his thoughts were. The lamps 
 along the drive were unlighted. Only the glim 
 mer of a candle met us at the great door, which 
 Mam Chloe unbarred with doleful grunts of ex 
 ertion. She told us that the other servants had 
 hidden in the cellar on an alarm that a mob were 
 coming to tar and feather Mr. Atherton. 
 
 " But," said Mam Chloe, piously, " I does 
 know I cotch my deff, foo sho , in dat cole ; so I 
 done putt my trus in de Lawd, an hide up sta s 
 in de shoe closet ! " 
 
 She had prepared hot coffee for us, and a meal 
 of some sort which we were too excited to eat. 
 Mr. Atherton refused everything, peevishly, and 
 strode off to his library. Tom followed him, 
 because we could hear sinister noises and shouts 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 129 
 
 borne on the breeze. He found him seated at 
 his writing-table. A sheet of paper, scrawled 
 all over with figures, had been pushed away, and 
 his head was sunk on his arms. Unconscious of 
 any auditor, he muttered to himself, " So many 
 poor people to lose all no use no use ! 
 Tom must rouse him, no matter how he recoiled 
 from the task. He spoke to him. Mr. Ather- 
 ton unsteadily lifted his face, which was flushed 
 a dark crimson. He stared at Tom with glazed 
 eyes. Tom tried to say something about a sure 
 reaction to the injustice of the present feeling. 
 
 " Why, d it all," cried Atherton, hoarsely, 
 "do you think I mind their turning on me? 
 Good Lord, they re right, I ve ruined the 
 town ! " 
 
 He put out his hand to draw his papers nearer 
 to him ; instead, his fingers scattered a pack of 
 cards. He looked at them with a strange smile. 
 " Billy s cards," he muttered. " Ain t it a good 
 thing old Billy s out of all this ? I think of that 
 when I miss him. We were together twenty 
 years, Renny, and never a word. See if you can 
 match that with your wife." He did not seem 
 to know that it was Tom, not Rene", before him. 
 All at once the vacant look slipped out of his 
 eyes ; he sprang to his feet, alert and composed, 
 lifting his hand. 
 
 " They ve come," he said calmly. 
 
130 THE FIRST MAYOR, 
 
 We all heard the noise that had roused him, 
 the thud of feet on the soft earth, the stifled cries 
 and commands. Tom and Rene would have per 
 suaded him to escape to the yard, where the 
 horses were ready; but he pushed them both 
 aside. " I Ve talked to the boys before," said, 
 he. 
 
 " Never mind," whispered Rene in my ear ; 
 " we are both armed, and the sheriff and a lot 
 of his friends are coming." 
 
 The crash of breaking glass and a hubbub of 
 screams from below stopped more words. Rene 
 and Tom, pistols in hand, ran out on the porch. 
 
 "Stop!" thundered Atherton. "You boys 
 sha n t do any fooling with pistols ! " 
 
 He pursued them as lightly as a lad. Rose 
 and I flew after. Outside, the mob seemed to 
 press to the very floor of the portico. The 
 lawn was only a surging black torrent of heads. 
 As we appeared, a sheet of flame shot up from 
 the brush-heap that they had lighted ; and a 
 shower of stones, dirt, eggs, and dead cats was 
 shot into the air as if it were the foam of this 
 horrible sea. " Atherton ! " " Atherton ! " " Tar 
 him I " " Feather him ! " " Kill him ! " bellowed 
 the crowd. 
 
 He had been the admired leader of these men, 
 veritably a petty god ; their rancor now had the 
 venom distilled out of faith betrayed. A yell of 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 131 
 
 rage and hatred tore their throats, as they saw 
 him, standing there before them, his arms folded 
 across his breast. They flung his own name 
 back at him coupled with hideous epithets and 
 threats. They pelted him with their noisome 
 missiles. An egg struck him full in the face, 
 and they shrieked in savage laughter. Tom s 
 pistol flashed out. But neither pistols nor Rose s 
 white arms could have quelled that uproar of 
 hate ; what did quell it was the patient com 
 posure of the hated man. Calmly, slowly, he 
 wiped his stained cheek with his handkerchief. 
 There was blood on it now from a gash made 
 by a well-aimed piece of glass. Then he lifted 
 his hand and they listened. 
 
 " You know very well," said he, in his loud, 
 unmodulated tones, " that I could have run away 
 from this. I refused to have the sheriff come 
 out with me. I don t want protection from the 
 men of Atherton. I Ve worked for the inter 
 ests of this town ever since I was twenty years 
 old, done my best for it." 
 
 " You ve ruined it ! " a woman s voice 
 screamed, and some boy threw a stone. It must 
 have hit him, but he stood firm. 
 
 " Another stone and I 11 fire ! " shouted Rene. 
 
 " Never ! " called Atherton. " It s all a mis 
 take a mistake " He stopped, passed his 
 hand in a bewildered way over his face ; his 
 
132 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 voice shook. " I know that I appear to have 
 to have ruined " 
 
 But his strength was gone. Rose and Rene 
 caught him as he swayed forward. They laid 
 him on his back ; he lay inert and flaccid ; his 
 eyes rolled, then they closed. Rose wailed that 
 he was dead. Rene, a planter s son, had a tinc 
 ture of medical knowledge. " No," said he, " he 
 is n t dead, but he has had a stroke of apoplexy." 
 
 To me it was marvelous to witness the change 
 in the temper of the crowd ; they stood silent and 
 awestruck. It was as if the passion of man 
 were spent before a vision of the judgment of 
 God. Most of the people quietly turned their 
 backs and went home. Those who remained 
 were vehement in their efforts to help. Ripley 
 and the sheriff found nothing to do. Thus, very 
 peacefully, we carried the first mayor of Ather- 
 ton over his threshold ; wondering, some of us, 
 if it were not a merciful fate should he never 
 need to cross it, living, again. Weeks, indeed, 
 did pass before such a thing seemed possible ; 
 then the desperately tenacious vitality of the 
 man s physical powers gave his body force to 
 crawl out of the wreckage of broken heart and 
 blunted brain. The doctor pronounced the pa 
 tient out of danger. 
 
 Shortly after this, while Mr. Atherton was 
 yet unable to transact any business, Tom re- 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 133 
 
 ceived a telegram summoning us to his mother s 
 death-bed. We left Atherton, not to see it again 
 for ten years. For awhile we heard frequently 
 from our Western friends : that Rene and Rose 
 were happily married ; that Mr. Atherton could 
 not use his mind long at a time, but was grow 
 ing stronger ; that many farmers had lost their 
 farms ; that business was dull and houses were 
 empty; that the name of the town had been 
 changed. Then the war came, and Tom volun 
 teered. Some letters must have gone astray 
 about this time ; for our letters addressed to 
 Rene were returned with merely a curt offi 
 cial " Not Found," on the envelope. We sur 
 mised that Rene had carried out his often-ex 
 pressed intention of throwing in his fortunes 
 with his own section. Such indeed was the 
 case, as we know, for we have renewed the old 
 friendship ; and I am glad to say the good fel 
 low has prospered since the war, and his wife is 
 a happy matron. But for years we lost sight of 
 them entirely. Five years after the war, we 
 passed through Atherton, Atherton no longer. 
 Having an hour to wait, we drove to the spot 
 because of which the city was set apart in our 
 hearts. With a strange, familiar ache, in spite 
 of the laughing baby faces waiting for me by 
 the Atlantic, I looked at the winding river 
 shore and the rich foliage of the hills above. 
 
134 THE FIRST MAYOR. 
 
 Overlook, with its stately terraces and groves, 
 was so precisely the picture of the years gone by 
 that a wild notion came to me that Atherton 
 might have retrieved his fortunes, and now was 
 its owner and the provincial lord again. But 
 there was a forlorn change on the other side of 
 vision. Instead of the wide acres, shaded by 
 fair trees or neatly shaven, with brilliant spots 
 of color, all the brighter for the white flashes 
 among the green, mills and factories crowded 
 close to a little plot of graves. The rank grass 
 waved a yellow-gray mist of hay-flowers over the 
 sunken mounds ; all the paths were effaced by 
 a squalid greenery of dock and plantain and 
 jimson weeds; while the cracked and weather- 
 stained gravestones leaned at every angle. The 
 hackman, carelessly flicking his boots with his 
 whip, at the carriage door, explained that the 
 city had sold all the vacant lots; no one had 
 been buried in the cemetery since 1859. 
 
 We asked the man if he knew anything about 
 Mr. Atherton. He thought that he had heard 
 the name, but was not sure. 
 
 " 4 Are we so soon forgotten when we are 
 gone ? " quoted Tom, sadly. 
 
 We ascertained that the care-taker whom we 
 trusted had not been negligent, and laid our 
 flowers on the little mound. It was natural that 
 we should linger a moment before the monu- 
 
THE FIRST MAYOR. 135 
 
 ment that once had attracted every visitor s 
 eyes. Though the suns and frosts had dealt 
 hardly with it, the sculpture had won a touch of 
 dignity out of its misfortunes : the coarse work 
 manship, the florid design, were softened by the 
 lichens and climbing vines; and I fancied a 
 novel sweetness in the angel s smile. 
 
 " Poor Mr. Atherton ! " I exclaimed. " Tom, 
 do you suppose he has been fortunate again ? " 
 
 " Yes," Tom answered quietly ; " I think that 
 he has been fortunate. At least, I am sure he 
 is content now." 
 
 His voice rather than his words made me go 
 to the stone whence his hand had brushed aside 
 the mask of thistles. Then I saw that he was 
 right, for we were standing by the first mayor s 
 grave. 
 
SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 Low red partitions separate the bath-rooms 
 proper from the passageways of the bath-house. 
 One morning early in November, when all the 
 mountains about Hot Springs were still aglow 
 with the red and yellow pigments spattered 
 through the enduring pine green, three women sat 
 outside, leaning back in their chairs after their 
 baths. The bath-house was new and smart in 
 all its appointments. The three women paid no 
 attention to the medley of noises which poured 
 through the partitions. A clatter of tongues and 
 a continuous crack of slapping pierced being 
 of a shriller and higher quality the monoto 
 nous fall and plash of water. So thin were 
 the dividing walls between the two sides of the 
 house that the conversation had rather a start 
 ling thread of masculine talk. 
 
 " Here, Polk, confound you ! " " Yes, sah, yes, 
 sah ; in a minute." " Say, Ben, what did you 
 do with my crutch ? " " Oh, yes, ma am ; I m 
 a heap better " (this in a, Southern, feminine 
 
SJST> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 137 
 
 voice). " Viney, I ? m all ready." " All right, 
 darlin , jest set still, an drink hot water an 
 sweat ; I m a cominY " Well, I don t drink 
 any more hot water, anyhow ; I feel like a tea 
 kettle now." " All right, honey ; I m a-comin ." 
 
 " Oh, why are you waiting, my brother ? " 
 
 It is the first line of a popular hymn ; a rich 
 tenor voice starts it, but the* words are taken up 
 by half a dozen bath- women, until the refrain, 
 with its wailing minor, echoes through the room : 
 
 " Wny not, why not, why not come to Him now ? " 
 
 One of the singers has a beautiful contralto 
 voice, possessed of that uncultivated, haunting 
 sweetness one hears sometimes among the negro 
 singers. 
 
 " Ain t that Dosier ? " asked a woman wait 
 ing. She was a large woman, handsome and 
 kindly looking, and while she mopped her face 
 with a towel, she kept up a steady motion of her 
 jaws. In fact, she was chewing gum. An ex 
 traordinary abandonment to " the gum habit " is 
 a feature of Hot Springs. Every shop-counter 
 seems to have a little tray of sticks in tinsel. One 
 is told that the men buy it to help them through 
 their deprivation of tobacco, Hot Springs doctors 
 being very strict on this point. But why do the 
 women use gum? They are Southern women 
 
138 SIST* CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 usually, but not always. They have the dress, 
 sometimes the manners and speech, of ladies, and 
 they make not the slightest concealment of the 
 practice. The large lady, as she spoke, offered 
 a stick of " taffee tolu " to the person whom she 
 addressed. 
 
 This was a thin, dark woman in a red wrap 
 per, with large diamonds in her ears and at her 
 throat. She waved the gum aside, remarking, 
 severely, " No, I never chew ; I have n t any bad 
 habits." 
 
 The other, not at all abashed, answered : " Do 
 you call chewing gum a bad habit ? I don t. 
 Gum is nice, clean, decent stuff. Now tobacco ; 
 there s some sense talking against that chew 
 ing, I mean ; I don t mind smoking no more 
 than nothing ; but chewing Colonel Ponder 
 used to chew till I could n t keep a stove in the 
 house decent. He did so. I hated terribly to 
 take away his comfort, but finally I persuaded 
 him to take up with gum instead. Never chewed 
 a mite myself, before then, but I did it to keep 
 him company, and now I like it most as well as 
 him." Therewith she laughed, a rollicking, 
 tolerant laugh, having in its melody a note of 
 something quite innocent and childlike. 
 
 The third woman, a delicate creature, whose 
 maid had wrapped her carefully, looked up at 
 the sound. " Were n t you speaking of Do- 
 
SIST CHAXEY S BLACK SILK. 139 
 
 sier ? " she said. Her voice had distinctly 
 Northern intonations ; it was rather languid than 
 faint. She had very large blue eyes, and a lit 
 tle wave to the brown hair brushed back from a 
 low forehead. Her face was pretty, though so 
 thin and colorless. She looked unhappy as well 
 as ill. " Is Dosier your bath-woman ? " she con 
 tinued. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma am," said Mrs. Ponder, beaming 
 upon her in a motherly fashion. (" Cayn t be 
 more than twenty, and looks like she d lost her 
 last friend on earth," was the kind soul s inward 
 comment.) " Why, Colonel would n t let me 
 come to the Springs, I don t guess, if I could n t 
 have Dosier. Not that it would kill me " she 
 laughed her jolly laugh again "if I did n t 
 come : I never had a sick day since I was mar 
 ried and come to Arkansas. All I go here for 
 is to reduce ; I get ten pounds thinner every 
 time I come, and last year I lost sixteen pounds 
 in three weeks. Vapor baths. And Dosier s 
 rubbings." 
 
 " She is very strong," said the invalid, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " Six feet tall," said Mrs. Ponder, " and can 
 lift me. You d hardly believe it, but she s done 
 it. And the cleanest creature, and as gentle as 
 gentle. She s a good woman if there ever was 
 
140 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 " Yes," agreed the woman with diamonds, " I 
 think Dosier is decent. Though " lowering 
 her voice " she is the first negro woman I ve 
 seen in the South that I d trust." 
 
 " Laws ! I ve seen a heap," said Mrs. Ponder. 
 " I was born and raised among niggers ; and 
 they re very much like white folks they re 
 good and they re bad. You Northern people all 
 lowed the niggers were angels during the war ; 
 and ayfter the war, when you came down here 
 and found they were n t, you turn plumb round 
 and think they re all trash. Fact is, they re just 
 middling, like the rest of us. But Dosier is the 
 best kind of a colored woman ; and when they re 
 good, you won t find anybody better, Mrs. Hig- 
 gins." 
 
 Mrs. Higgins looked strong dissent, but all she 
 said was : " What s become of that husband of 
 hers ? the one that was in the penitentiary." 
 
 " Why, she never had but one husband, did 
 she ? " said the invalid. 
 
 " Well, that one. Two years ago she was 
 spending all the money she had saved up to get 
 him out. He killed somebody." 
 
 " He shot one of the worst gamblers and des 
 peradoes ever in Hot Springs " the stout lady 
 now took up the conversation with decision 
 " and he had n t ought to have had anything 
 done to him. Anyway and anyhow, they par- 
 
SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 141 
 
 doned him out ayfter Dosier had spent more 
 than three hundred and seventy dollars on him." 
 
 " Well, what became of him ? " 
 
 " Oh, he was all broke up in health, and he 
 died." 
 
 " Poor Dosier ! " said the little woman. " Has 
 she any children? " 
 
 " No, ma am ; but she s got a helpless invalid 
 sister, and a niece that s a widow, and two little 
 boys of hers. I reckon Dosier looks out ayfter 
 the whole of them. Well, Nettie she does work 
 about the bath-houses some, but she cayn t more 
 than keep herself." 
 
 " The sister s a helpless kind of thing," said 
 Mrs. Higgins ; " paralyzed some way. She must 
 be a burden." 
 
 Mrs. Ponder s face wore a new expression, 
 a very gentle one. " I m not so sure of that," 
 said she ; " sometimes it looks like folks were n t 
 any comfort because they ain t any help about 
 the house or earning money, and yet they may 
 be a sight of company and comfort. I ve heard 
 Dosier say she would n t know how to get along 
 without Chaney." 
 
 The young woman looked for a second at Mrs. 
 Ponder. Mrs. Higgins gave a rapid glance 
 downward at her own hands, crippled with rheu 
 matism ; then jumped up and began to pace the 
 room. " Well, when I can t help myself I want 
 to die," she muttered. 
 
142 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 Mrs. Ponder changed the subject. " Chaney," 
 she continued, in her soft, leisurely tones, 
 " Chaney gets the funniest notions. What do 
 you think she s got into her head now? " 
 
 " I don t think she s got good sense," said 
 Mrs. Higgins, acidly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma am ; she s got plenty of sense. 
 But this is curious, for she does n t go out of the 
 house once a year. If you please, ladies, she s 
 plumb crazy for a black silk gown. Ever since 
 Dosier got hers, she s been craving one. Dosier 
 wants right bad to get her one for a Christmas 
 gift ; but you see, Chaney is sick gone into a 
 dropsy, the doctor says and Dosier can only 
 work mornings, and there s the doctor s bills and 
 all : I in afraid they will use up all the money 
 she s laid by." 
 
 " It s a piece of extravagance anyhow," said 
 Mrs. Higgins. " Chaney ought not to ask such 
 a thing, and Dosier ought to tell her flat she 
 can t have it." 
 
 She might have freed her mind more fully had 
 not a bath-room door opened and a tall black 
 woman appeared, Dosier herself. 
 
 " Say, don t you all go out till you re right 
 cool," she remarked, shaking her head good-hu- 
 moredly as she passed. " Miss Maine, you make 
 your gyirl wrop ye up tight, ef ye go out." 
 
 She had, in speaking, the same rich, melodi- 
 
SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 143 
 
 ons, winning voice as in singing, and her broad 
 smile and bright eyes made her strong, dark 
 features attractive. Even Mrs. Higgins looked 
 kindly after her as she passed. 
 
 She walked through the two " cooling-rooms," 
 into the office, and so into the street. At that 
 hour of the day the Hot Springs main street is 
 a picturesque scene, a kaleidoscope of shifting 
 figures, all tints of skin, all social ranks: un 
 couth countrymen on cotton wagons ; negroes 
 in carts drawn by oxen or skeleton mules with 
 rope harness ; pigs lifting their protesting noses 
 out of some carts, fowls squawking in others ; a 
 dead deer flung over a horseman s saddle ; mod 
 ish-looking men and women walking ; shining 
 horses curveting before handsome carriages ; 
 cripples on crutches; deformed creatures hug 
 ging the sunny side of the street before the bath 
 houses ; pale ghosts of human beings in wheeled 
 chairs, so the endless procession of wealth or 
 poverty or disease or hope oscillates along the 
 winding street between the mountains. The 
 houses are as different as the people, squalor 
 and roughness of a mining camp flung cheek by 
 jowl against brick facades of the American re 
 naissance, with terra-cotta ornaments and low 
 arched windows. Booths innumerable lean out 
 over the mud sidewalk ; Hot Springs crystals 
 glitter in jewelers windows ; gaudy garments 
 
144 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 swing from projecting stringers ; poultry in coops, 
 rabbits in cages, squirrels, opossums, possibly a 
 young bear, increase the lively aspect of the ex 
 hibition space of the street, and very much cur 
 tail the footman s passageway. Every house that 
 is not a hotel has a sign of " Rooms to Let." 
 Visibly the town lives upon the stranger within 
 its gates. 
 
 Dosier, to whom the sight was too familiar 
 for notice, and who was, moreover, absorbed in 
 painful thoughts of her own, moved rapidly 
 along to a cross street. 
 
 Frequently she met acquaintances, black or 
 white. They all greeted her with a degree of 
 respect. The negroes said, " Good-mornin , Sist 
 Rogers ! " or " Howdy, Mis Rogers ? " A few 
 stopped to shake hands and inquire about her 
 sister. Dosier s invariable reply was : " Well, 
 she ain t no better. We all gwine have a con- 
 serlation dis mornin . Free doctors." 
 
 Admiration evidently tinged the sympathy of 
 the comments. The commonest was : " Is dat so ? 
 Well, you suttinly is doin all you kin." 
 " I aims ter," said Dosier. 
 After awhile she left her friends behind and 
 came to her own house, a neat brown cottage, 
 standing on the side of the hill, in a large gar 
 den. Dosier, who was indef atigably industrious, 
 had fine roses as well as a thrifty company of 
 
SJST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 145 
 
 vegetables. A bush of La France roses brushed 
 the window-pane with their pink, exquisitely 
 crumpled petals. The bed was drawn close to 
 the window. Ghana loved to lie watching the 
 long stems sway, and the green leaves tap the 
 glass, and the light flicker in the pink bloom. 
 She used to sit up, but of late she had lain all 
 day, too weak or in too much pain to rise. Do- 
 sier looked quickly for the face on the big white 
 pillows. It was turned away, and the hands 
 were clutching at the forehead with an unmis 
 takable gesture. 
 
 " My Lawd ! Chaney s cryin ," gasped Dosier. 
 There was a climbing pain in her throat that 
 choked her. The tears swam in her eyes. " It 
 ben bad, an dat fool Nettie done tole er," she 
 thought. " Yes, thar s them buggies," glancing 
 down the road. 
 
 Two buggies, Dr. Green s and Dr. Le Ver- 
 neau s, were drawn up close to the fence and the 
 line of clover, still fresh and green. The horses 
 were munching dry grass and juicy clover to 
 gether. 
 
 Directly, the little red door of the house opened 
 and three gentlemen appeared. They had the 
 medical gravity of expression over a serious 
 case. On the walk, the youngest man began to 
 talk animatedly, but the others checked him, 
 observing Dosier. Old Dr. Le Verneau raised 
 his hat. 
 
146 SIST> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 Dosier, even then, did not forget her old- 
 fashioned manners, which prompted the hasty 
 courtesy before she said, in an unsteady voice: 
 " You all ain t no need to tell me, gentlemen. 
 She cayn t get up no mo . Dis yeah her last 
 spell er sickness." 
 
 " You see it is this way, Aunt Dosier," sai d 
 Dr. Green : it was a relief to him to plunge 
 into medical details, knowing that Dosier, the 
 best nurse in Hot Springs, could understand 
 him. Strangely enough, it calmed her also, 
 forcing her into the impartial professional scru 
 tiny of " the patient " that becomes a nurse s 
 second nature. 
 
 " I got to give up gwine t de baths," she said, 
 quietly, after lie had outlined the condition of 
 the sick woman and the best mode of treatment 
 to alleviate her suffering; there was no hope of 
 prolonging her life. Then she courtesied again 
 and thanked the physicians, saying that she was 
 sure that they would do all that could be done, 
 and entered the house. She stopped a second 
 outside the door to stiffen herself and fling out 
 her hands. Then she shut the palms tight. 
 
 " Bracing up," muttered the youngest man. 
 " She feels bad. Queer, too : the woman s al 
 ways been a burden to her." 
 
 " That s all you know about it," said Dr. Le 
 Verneau, irritably. " Don t you suppose she s 
 
SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 147 
 
 fond of her kin ? That poor soul there has lived 
 with Dosier twenty years." 
 
 Dosier s fingers may have trembled a little on 
 the latch, but there was no tremble in her voice 
 as she greeted Nettie ; she forced a kind of smile 
 on her face. Ah ! which of us is so happy as 
 not to know that pitiful smile of the sick-room ? 
 
 Nettie was a slender brown woman, never very 
 wise. She " p intedly did favor her paw," Dosier 
 used to say, and the late Jacob Faury, Ghana s 
 husband, was " trifling." 
 
 Nettie sat in the yellow rocking-chair, rock 
 ing and sobbing, while she strained her youngest 
 child so hard to her breast that he set up a wail 
 on his own account. 
 
 Poor Ghana was quietly weeping on the bed. 
 
 " My Lawd ! Nettie," cried Dosier, with the 
 irritation of suffering, " how come you let dat 
 chile beller dat a way in yeah ? Ain t you got 
 no sense ? " Then, her voice dropping to its 
 gentlest key, " Howdy, Chaney ? Is you got de 
 mis ry back ? " 
 
 No movement, no sound except the low sob 
 bing from the bed. 
 
 " You needs some milk shake, dat s wat you 
 does ; an I got some nice new w iskey to putt in. 
 An den we 11 count de stockin ." 
 
 Presently she came back, and gently took the 
 hand down. She had an old yarn stocking hung 
 over her arm. 
 
148 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 " Oh, Doshy," sobbed Ghana, " 1 m gwine t 
 die, ayfter all. Ye need n t count de stockin . 
 I 11 never vv ar no silk gownd." 
 
 Dosier, pillar of the church though she was, 
 looked at the quivering face, and for a moment 
 contemplated lying bravely only for a mo 
 ment ; because something in Ghana s eyes told 
 her that a lie would be useless. Instead, she 
 sank down on her knees by the bedside. 
 " Chaney," she whispered, " you like me pray de 
 Lawd holp you tuh bar it ? " 
 
 " Naw, I doan t," said Ghana. 
 
 A thunderbolt could hardly have cloven Do- 
 sier s sore heart like those words. Ghana, after 
 years of obdurate " stan in out agin de Spirit," 
 had been hopefully converted only a month ago. 
 The stumbling-block in the ways of God with 
 men, in her case, had been her own undeserved 
 misfortunes. Finally she had been brought to 
 regard these as a means of grace, but now her 
 faith failed her. 
 
 " Looks like I cud bar it better ef I done had 
 my silk dress, an ben out jes oncet in it," she 
 said, after a pause, filled by poor Dosier with 
 desperate mute supplication. " I doan wanter 
 die." 
 
 " Oh, Chaney, tink er de bright worl above, 
 an de glori s w ite ga ment ! " 
 
 " I d heap ruther have a black silk," muttered 
 Ghana, and turned her face to the window. 
 
8I8T> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 149 
 
 All that day she hardly spoke. She could eat 
 nothing. In vain Dosier went down town and 
 returned with California grapes, which Ghana 
 used to like. Ghana only shook her head, say 
 ing, "I m too busy studyin t eat." 
 
 Dosier carefully put them away for a more 
 propitious moment ; but it never came. A black 
 cloud of depression swathed poor Ghana s soul. 
 Every little act of kindness, every sign of affec 
 tion from Dosier or her daughter, every one of 
 the small pleasures which they tried so hard to 
 give her, was like a hand drawing the gloom 
 tighter, for it made life more desirable and death 
 more hideous. 
 
 " She cayn t seem to get reconciled nohow," 
 Dosier confided with tears to Mrs. Ponder. 
 " She says now we all got so nicely fixed, an she 
 got her bed by the winder, an kin see de roses, 
 an folks gwine by on de street, she doan min 
 layin in bed. Ye know ye fetched a couple er 
 w ite figgers, imiges, fo tuh putt on de bureau, 
 an a beaucherful picter tuh hang on de wall. 
 Chaney she doan git many presents, and she 
 ben so pleased when she got dem she jes cried 
 she done so. An now she says she hates fo ter 
 leave. An an " Dosier choked over the 
 wor ds " she hates f o tuh leave me an Nettie 
 an de little tricks. She allus uster like tuh look 
 down de road so she see me comin nights, an she 
 
150 BIST 1 CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 laffed so when somebody give me a present. She 
 say she won t have no good times in heaben, an 
 she cayn t git no satisfaction outer study in* bout 
 it. She won t pray no mo , neether. Po chile, 
 she cayn t git reconciled tuh de Lawd s ways, an 
 she faults Him. She takes on orful, an says 
 He mout of lowed er live one year longer, an* 
 j y erself a bit an sich. Makes me feel tur- 
 rible bad." She wiped away the tears that had 
 been rolling down her cheeks before she contin 
 ued : " Doan you be maginin dat I m fearin 
 de Lawd lay dem bad feelin s er Chaney up agin 
 her. He knows better. Naw, ma am. But I 
 cayn t b ar havin her go so oneasy; I cayn t 
 b ar it noway, tall." 
 
 " Oh, hush, Dosier," said Mrs. Ponder, sooth 
 ingly. " She 11 get reconciled ; they always do. 
 Say, don t she want me to lend her my music- 
 box ? You can keep it ayfter I m gone, long s 
 she wants it. She used to like to hear the hymn- 
 tunes. And there s Rainbow Polka and 
 4 Sweet Violets beside." 
 
 But Dosier answered sadly that Ghana no 
 longer cared for hymns. " She jes lays an 
 studies," said she. 
 
 Mrs. Ponder, not a religious woman herself, 
 cast about in vain through her scattering remi 
 niscences of religious people for some comfort 
 ing suggestion. The consequence of the inter- 
 
S/SI" CHANEY 8 BLACK SILK. 151 
 
 view was that she burst into tears herself, and 
 sent Ghana a large red-velvet pincushion, hav 
 ing a yellow and white bunch of flowers painted 
 onit, which she had bought the day before at a 
 church fair, and was treasuring for the place of 
 honor in her guest-chamber. 
 
 She carried an uneasy sense of compassion 
 with her to the bath-house and to her accustomed 
 companions, Mrs. Higgins and Miss Maine. In 
 the frank Southern fashion she shared her per 
 plexities, at once. " And what would you say 
 poor Dosier had ought to do?" 
 
 " What can she do ? " added Miss Maine. " I 
 dare say Chaney is crazy." 
 
 " I don t see what she s got to make such a 
 fuss about," Mrs. Higgins grumbled. " A bed- 
 ridden invalid, I should think she d be willing 
 and glad to go. Why don t they talk to her 
 about heaven and such things ? " 
 
 " Well, they have, a heap," said Mrs. Ponder; 
 " but it looks like she cayn t get up an interest 
 in heaven. You see really there ain t so very 
 much we all know about heaven anyhow." 
 
 " Is n t her husband dead ? " said Miss Maine. 
 The girl spoke with a vibrating accent of emo 
 tion under her indifferent manner. To her, one 
 presence filled all her imaginations of the mys 
 teries beyond this life : it was that of the man 
 whom she was to have married, and who had 
 
152 SIST> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 died a year ago, on the morning of their wed 
 ding day. How could any wife But the 
 instinctive cynical second thought of her class 
 interrupted that first thrill of sympathy. Such 
 people, of course, were different. How did they 
 feel? 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Ponder, impartially, " he s 
 dead, that s true enough ; but I don t guess he 
 counts much. He was a trifling no- count nig 
 ger, who wanted to wear his Sunday clothes 
 every day, and sit in the store-doors and ogle 
 the yellow girls. I reckon he was n t any too 
 kind to her, either, ayfter she got too sick to 
 earn money for him to spend." 
 
 Miss Maine laughed a sharp, quick little 
 laugh. kt Then you have to fall back on Mrs. 
 Higgins s panacea she s not losing much." 
 
 Mrs. Ponder looked rather wistfully from the 
 set young face to the worn older face, with its 
 quiver of irritable pain. "There dont seem 
 much we poor human beings can do for each 
 other in trouble," she said. 
 
 " I hope, for her own sake and ours too," Mrs. 
 Higgins continued, paying no attention to this, 
 " that she won t have a lingering illness. That 
 new bath-woman we Ve got is n t half as good as 
 Dosier." 
 
 Miss Maine s eyebrows went up a little ; she 
 directed a side glance at Mrs. Ponder, who had 
 
SIST* CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 153 
 
 ^ 
 
 taken out her gum, and was rocking and chewing 
 with unusual vigor. 
 
 " She has no heart either," thought the girl, 
 scornfully ; " they are all coarse and disagreeable 
 together." 
 
 Really, however, she did the worthy Arkansas 
 woman injustice. Gum had become a sort of 
 intellectual motor to Mrs. Ponder, who never 
 felt her mind really working without a simul 
 taneous action of her jaws. 
 
 But she said nothing to her companions. In 
 deed, the notion of comfort that she was re 
 volving would have seemed heartless and ridic 
 ulous to one unacquainted with the African 
 " ways." She went to see Dosier on purpose to 
 tell her. " Did you ever think of telling Chaney 
 bout the funeral?" said she. "I know you 
 low to give her a nice one." 
 
 " I does so," said Dosier. She clapped her 
 hands together, though the tears were in her 
 eyes. " De Lawd bless you fo clat t ought, Miss 
 Betty ; I do reckon I got another myse f by it, 
 an dat I cheer er up. Come an see er, won t 
 you, Mis Betty?" 
 
 The conversation had taken place outside the 
 house, on the white sand walk. Now silently 
 Mrs. Ponder followed Dosier into Ghana s room. 
 
 The sick woman had turned her face away 
 from the humble and careful adorning of the 
 
154 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 walls to the greenery swinging against her win 
 dow-pane ; but her eyes saw the varying shadows 
 on leaf and rose, and the lovely flush of color, as 
 little as they did Dosier s chromos and plaster 
 images. Absorbed in her ceaseless and impotent 
 wrestle with her doom, she would lie thus for 
 hours, hardly speaking. What visions of her 
 thwarted, dim, pain-dogged life, what forlorn 
 gropings among the eternal problems, what wild, 
 half -savage, suffocating revolt against the Power 
 that would not save her, were hidden behind 
 that dull mask which her face had become ! Her 
 eyes looked out solemn and turbid with inartic 
 ulate thoughts and misery. Sometimes they 
 would follow every movement of her sister, until 
 Dosier would feel an intolerable pity. All her 
 own personal grief and ache of loss was con 
 sumed by an overpowering longing to soothe 
 Ghana s torment. " Ef I cud only git er tuh go 
 easy an peaceful, I give er up. Oh, dear Lawd, 
 holp er ! " she moaned. " It s wusser dan de 
 pain, kase de doctor kin give er opium fur dat" 
 Now she walked up to the bed and gently took 
 Ghana s hand. It lay lead-like in hers. " Heah 
 Mis Betty Ponder, Chaney ; she done come tuh 
 see ye." 
 
 Ghana did not move or turn her head, but her 
 lips moved : " Tell er howdy. I cayn t talk." 
 
 Mrs. Ponder said a few hearty words, which 
 
S1ST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 155 
 
 passed over Ghana s apathy like a breeze over a 
 rock. 
 
 Then Dosier s mellow, tender voice struck the 
 new note of thought. " I ben studyin bout 
 you, sist Chaney. You ain t had much good 
 times, has you ? " 
 
 All the while she was softly stroking Ghana s 
 hand. There was no word or sign of response, 
 but Dosier felt the faintest tremor under her 
 fingers. 
 
 " Yes, honey, dat so ; but ef you did n t have 
 a good time, you shall have de bigges an de 
 nices burryin of ary cullud pusson in Hot 
 Springs." 
 
 Ghana lifted her free hand. " Turn me over," 
 said she. Whenever the poor woman would 
 move, she must be helped. Dosier assisted her 
 to change her position. 
 
 " Go on," she said faintly. There was no 
 dawning of interest in her face, but she listened 
 while Dosier talked, and it was the first time 
 since the doctors spoke their sentence that she 
 had so much as listened. Dosier had no per 
 ception of anything grotesque or horrible in tell 
 ing her sister about her funeral. The negroes 
 all magnify funerals. She thought simply that 
 Ghana might be " chirked up a bit " to know 
 what a nice funeral she would have. Nor was 
 she mistaken. Poor Ghana had her meagre 
 
156 SIST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 social ambitions ; she wanted to be well thought 
 of. Since her conversion she had regularly sent 
 her quarter on Sunday for the preacher. Dosier 
 had promised her fifty cents to give on the proud 
 day when she should wear her new black silk to 
 church. It may be that her bewildered soul saw 
 a light of hope in this last chance of display. 
 Death would not utterly crush her, if she might 
 have a " gran burryin ." 
 
 " Br er Warner shill preach yo funeral, sis 
 ter," said Dosier. " You shill go ter church 
 oncet mo like you wanted tub, an you shill 
 w ar my bes under-cloze, an an my black 
 silk dress." 
 
 There was no mistake now ; the sick woman 
 was listening. " What ! " she cried hoarsely ; 
 " you Naw, I cayn t take hit, sist Doshy ; 
 you 1 onlies good dress, an you spendin sech er 
 heap er money on me now. Tub hurry dat beau- 
 cherful dress ! Why, t wud be plumb wicked." 
 
 But there was a light in her eyes, a flickering, 
 timid hope. Do not despise it ; behind the bar 
 barian greed for show was the human longing to 
 be mourned by her kind ; to touch them, move 
 them somehow, leave some more vivid impres 
 sion behind her than merely the image of a bed 
 ridden old black woman out of the way. Who 
 knows that poor Ghana s funeral was not to her 
 that one enchanted moment which we all, in 
 
SJST> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 157 
 
 some wise being mortal must covet, the 
 moment when we are the central figure of our 
 world ? 
 
 More and more did the hard pain soften as 
 Dosier went on, taking no denial : " You shill 
 w ar my new ruche dat Mis Higgins give me, 
 an de pin, an be clothed in silk from head to 
 toe. Oh, Chaney, honey, ye doan know how 
 willin I gives it up, ef it on y ease you min . 
 I tanks de Lawd ever night I got de money 
 tuh spend on ye." 
 
 " An me tinkin ha sh tings er de Lawd kase 
 He call me way ! " sobbed the now entirely over 
 come woman. " When you is so good tuh me, 
 I give up, sist Doshy ; I reckon He does love 
 me ; I is willin tuh go. Mabbe mabbe He 
 let me outer Heaven oncet in a Vile, an I kin 
 git back an see you all. Doshy, den I aim tuh 
 shake dat rosebush agin de winder. Den ye 
 know it s me." 
 
 Miss Maine stood at her window in the hotel 
 and watched the long procession of Ghana s 
 funeral creeping up the hill to the church. The 
 last buggy had turned the corner, and still she 
 stood, held motionless by the sombre reverie 
 that was her usual state of mind a dismal 
 day-dream where the sorrows of others always 
 were merged into her own grief. 
 
158 SJST> CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 
 
 Thus Mrs. Ponder found her, when she was 
 ushered into the room, breathless with her rapid 
 ascent of the stairs, and red in the face from a 
 combination of weeping and fast walking. 
 
 " I ve just come from Dosier s," she said, 
 after the formal greeting, unaffectedly wiping 
 her eyes, " and I ve cried so I m not fit to be 
 seen. Besides, it s a long walk." 
 
 " I thought I saw you in a carriage," said 
 Miss Maine. 
 
 " Oh, I left the carriage for Dosier ; and Mrs. 
 Higgins sent a carriage too." 
 
 " Mrs. Higgins ! " cried Miss Maine, surprise 
 overcoming her reserve. " Why, I thought she 
 she said I did n t suppose she would care." 
 
 " Oh, she s right kind-hearted," said Mrs. 
 Ponder, easily ; " only she hates to show. Why, 
 she s gone up to Dosier s a heap of times. She 
 and I. We were there the day she died. She d 
 jest gone, and Dosier told us about it. She died 
 just as peaceful ! After Dosier had that talk 
 about the funeral with her she did n t think of 
 nothing else ; saw the preacher, picked out all 
 the hymns her mind was just full of it ; and 
 the morning when she died she had Dosier lay 
 out all her things on the bed, the black silk and 
 all, and Dosier said she actually laughed, and 
 said, 4 Will I look nice in it, sister, clothed in 
 silk from top to toe ? That s what Dosier had 
 
SJST CHANEY S BLACK SILK. 159 
 
 said to her, you know. And when Dosier re 
 plied, Yes, she would look beautiful, she 
 laughed again, arid went to sleep holding Dosier s 
 hand, and she passed away in her sleep. There 
 could n t be anything more peaceful. And 
 really, Miss Maine, it was a beautiful funeral 
 such quantities of flowers, and so many closed 
 carriages, and she did look so nice and happy in 
 the black silk ! Poor Dosier did give her her 
 best, that s a fact." 
 
 " What a pity Ghana could n t see her own 
 funeral ! " said Miss Maine, rather dryly. 
 
 " Well, I don t know ; perhaps she did," said 
 Mrs. Ponder. 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 IF the kitchen - door stand open and the 
 door of an Arkansas kitchen is likely to stand 
 open on a late February day you can look 
 from the kettles of the big stove to the bend of 
 the Black River, to the steep bank where red 
 willow twigs top the velvet down which will be 
 grass, and across the gray waters to willows and 
 sycamores and caiiebrakes and a few cabins in 
 the clearings. Should you step to the door, you 
 can see the plantation-store and mill, and a score 
 of gambrel-roofed white houses. In the fields, 
 the whitish-brown cotton-stalks lie on the dun- 
 colored earth. The birds are singing in the 
 cypress forest, and a red-bird flutters his gor 
 geous wings on a stray stalk that has escaped 
 the cutter. 
 
 Aunt Callie, one day in February, saw the 
 fields and the bird, and also a little girl whose 
 flannel cape was the color of the bird s wing, 
 and whose thick hair had a gleam of the same 
 tint. 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 161 
 
 " Humph," said Aunt Callie, " reckon by her 
 favor, dat ar s Haskett s gell comin by." 
 
 "Haskett s gell," otherwise Mizzie Haskett, 
 came awkwardly and shyly down the walk, and 
 balanced herself on the kitchen steps. She wore 
 her holiday attire, a blue-and-white cotton frock, 
 red flannel cape, and a large bonnet (evidently 
 made for a much older head) decked with red 
 roses. Her hair was tied with a bright new 
 green ribbon ; and round a soft and snowy little 
 neck was a large white frill in which glittered 
 an imitation-gold pin. Certainly her pretty skin 
 did not need it, but she was powdered (or, to be 
 accurate, floured) profusely ; this last Southern 
 touch of art being added, injudiciously, after the 
 putting on of the red cape. She was, moreover, 
 consumed with embarrassment, which sent a 
 flood of blushes through the flour layer, over 
 her skin, from the roots of her hair to the nape 
 of her neck. 
 
 " Ye seekin ary pusson, Sissy ? " said Aunt 
 Callie, frigidly. She had cooked for " the qual 
 ity " twenty years, and she knew her own dig 
 nity. 
 
 " I be n seekin Miss Dora, please," the little 
 girl answered meekly, in a very sweet voice. 
 
 Miss Caroll, overhearing both question and 
 answer, hastened to invite the child to come in, 
 which she did after a long interval of scraping 
 her shoes outside. 
 
162 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 Once in the kitchen, seated, and her feet 
 twisted behind the rungs of a kitchen chair, 
 Mizzie gasped twice, then said, " Paw sent me. 
 It dropped through." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" said Miss Caroll. 
 
 "It was sorter sad lookin , continued Mizzie, 
 on the verge of tears. " Paw made out to eat 
 it, but I knowed t was n t right." 
 
 " Eat what? I really don t understand." 
 
 " The brown bread, ma am," sobbed Mizzie, 
 big tears rolling down her cheeks, but persist 
 ently gasping her way through her sentences. 
 " I put it in the steamer, like you all tole 
 me ; but it dropped through an spread out. 
 Did n t raise up high like you all s." 
 
 " You unfortunate child ! " said Dora, " do you 
 mean that you poured your brown bread into 
 the steamer without any tin ? " 
 
 This, it appeared, was precisely what Mizzie 
 had done. 
 
 " Cause Mis Caroll did n t say nuthin cept 
 4 Put it into the steamer. " 
 
 " Paw and me made it together," said she, 
 taking out a square of cotton to wipe her eyes ; 
 " an when it come out so sad an curis lookin 
 he said for me to come here to-day, cause you all 
 wud be makin of you bread, an mabbe wud n t 
 mind me lookin on. Tole me to shore wipe my 
 feet dry. Paw d hate terrible for me to pester 
 
 ye." 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 163 
 
 Aunt Callie visibly softened under this humil 
 ity. " Dar, sot still an watch me, den," said she. 
 
 " I 11 tell you," said Dora ; " I taught Aunt 
 Callie our New England bread." 
 
 She could not have asked a more attentive 
 scholar, Mizzie watching every motion of the 
 great wooden spoon with the eyes of a hawk, 
 and her lips moving at intervals as do those of 
 a child who inaudibly repeats a lesson to him 
 self. 
 
 Presently, the brown batter being safely in 
 the tin mould, and the mould in the steamer, 
 the small maid asked : 
 
 "Please, ma am, cud we all buy a tin trick 
 like that at the store ? " 
 
 Being informed that she could, she sighed 
 with relief, extricated her feet from the chair, 
 and "made her manners." 
 
 " I m much obliged to you all, ma am, an I 
 wish ye well." 
 
 Hereupon she would have gone, had not Dora 
 detained her to slip a slice of cake and some 
 apples into her hand. 
 
 They saw her stop, a little distance from the 
 house, and carefully wrap the cake in a piece 
 of paper. 
 
 " She 11 never tech a bite o dat ar," said Aunt 
 Callie, " jes tote it home to de young uns. 
 She do dem chil en good as a mudder. Dey 
 
164 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 ain t got any mudder, ye un erstan . She keep 
 de ouse alone ebber sence her maw died. Dar s 
 her paw ; and Sal Jane, dat s goin on ten ; and 
 de baby, dat s two ; an her, dat s mabbe fo - 
 teen. De cookin an scrubbin an makin de 
 cloze, she an her paw, dey do it all. When he 
 makin a crop, den she do it all. But in winter 
 he makes out to sen er ter school mos days 
 cept washin day. He guv er dat pin, but mos 
 times she lends it ter Sal Jane. Sal Jane s all 
 fur haviii er time an er pleasure ; but Mizpah, 
 she s studdy." 
 
 Certainly she looked steady, too steady for 
 her years, as she picked her way through the 
 mud. She had stopped at the store, and the 
 "tin trick" glittered under the crook of her 
 elbow. Passing through the " settlement," she 
 went over the brow of the tiny hill, down into 
 the cypress brake. She hastened her pace, 
 tripping along the dim forest ways. Beauti 
 ful ways they are in February, with the white 
 bark shining like silver, and the velvet moss 
 coating the north side of the cypresses and 
 sycamores, and the glitter of red berries on the 
 blue-black twigs of the hackberry -trees, and the 
 ferns waving in the damp places, and the little 
 " bluets " which deck the ground, first of all the 
 brave company of spring flowers ; but none of 
 these did brisk little Mizzie see, because she was 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 165 
 
 too busy planning for the two younger children 
 and for " Paw." 
 
 " We cud make out right well, ef t was nt fur 
 that thar cotton," she said to herself. " Well, I 
 wud n t keer bout losin the cotton, either, ef 
 t was n t fur such a sight of bad feelin s. I jes 
 take the all-overs 1 every time I see paw getherin 
 his gun to go out. An it used to be so nice ! " 
 
 Mizzie sighed heavily. By this time she had 
 come out upon a clearing and cotton-fields. On 
 the edge of the cotton-fields stood a bright blue 
 house. Evidently it was a new house ; not only 
 was its color a surprise to the eye accustomed to 
 the universal whitewash of plantation taste, but 
 its snug architecture and straight chimneys pro 
 claimed its recent building. A little girl sat on 
 the porch beside a lank Arkansas hound. The 
 hound rushed across the fields with joyful yelps. 
 Mizzie hushed him as best she could. 
 
 " Down, Jeru ! Down, charge ! You 11 fotch 
 him out, shore." 
 
 The little girl had followed the dog. She was 
 about Mizzie s age, and her black curls streamed 
 out behind her as she ran. 
 
 " My, how long you was ! " she exclaimed. 
 "Did she tell ye?" 
 
 Mizzie nodded. 
 
 "Yes. You be thar, this evening," replied 
 
 1 Shivers. 
 
166 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 she, solemnly ; and she added, " I reckon I d 
 best fetch long the baby. Sal Jane has had 
 im all the morniii . You must n t ax too much 
 of them little folks." 
 
 " AU right. I 11 fetch long my doll." 
 
 The little girl looked about her with a hur 
 ried and stealthy air, then pushed her pretty face 
 through the fence rails to kiss Mizzie, saying : 
 
 " You right good to fix it for me so nice ! An 
 I do love you better n any gell in this worl " 
 
 " O Doshy ! " cried Mizzie, " I see him coinin . 
 Oh, fly!" 
 
 Instantly she herself darted across the road 
 and plunged into the brake. Doshy ran swiftly 
 toward the house. A voice commanded her to 
 stop ; she had been seen. She turned and went 
 back to her father. He was a short, dark man, 
 who snapped an ox-goad against his boot-legs in 
 an unpleasant manner. 
 
 "Ain t that gell Dock Haskett s?" he in 
 quired. " War n t that her here yisterday, too?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Doshy. 
 
 " Did n t I tole ye I did n t want ye to have 
 no more talk with Haskett s folks ? " 
 
 Then Doshy plucked up heart to answer. 
 " Paw, I cayn t help it. She s so good. An I 
 like her better n any little gell in school." 
 
 " Good ! " repeated the father, with strong de 
 rision. " Good ! Ain t she a Haskett ? Ain t 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 167 
 
 she got a red head like his n ? Aw, them red 
 heads kin talk an git roun decent folks, but 
 they 11 do ye a meanness whenever ye trust em. 
 Look at me ! Kin I walk right yit ? Confound 
 him, I 11 tote that ar bullet er his n roun , long s 
 I live ! An my gell a-wantin ter run with his 
 gell ! I ain t got patience to enjure hit. Go 
 long!" 
 
 The child made no answer, but, stifling a sob, 
 flew into the house. 
 
 Sullenly the father limped about his work. 
 He was not at all a harsh father, and that un 
 usual look of fright and hurt that his girl had 
 worn smote his heart. 
 
 " Now I made the little trick feel bad. Blame 
 it all ! " he muttered, while he saddled his horse ; 
 and he felt all the more bitter toward Haskett, 
 the cause of his ill-temper. 
 
 Everybody on the plantation knew that there 
 was open war, a strong and bitter feud, between 
 Luther Morrow and Dock Haskett. Yet, not 
 six months before, they had been warm friends. 
 The quarrel began over a trifle a dispute as 
 to which of the hunters was the better shot. 
 There was a match which decided nothing, and 
 a hog-hunt in which each shot the same number 
 of wild hogs, and both claimed the last boar. 
 The two men s tempers waxed warmer, and, by 
 consequence, their friendship cooled, and foolish 
 
168 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 friends made the matter worse. And, finally, 
 Jerusalem Jones, Luther s pet hound, must needs 
 choose this season of wrath to steal a ham from 
 the Haskett gallery. Dock Haskett, unhappily, 
 snatched up his gun and shot at the beast. He 
 missed Jerusalem Jones, but he hit Jerusalem s 
 master, who was on his way to the Hasketts , 
 bent on conciliation, owing to his wife s entrea 
 ties. (He even had it in mind to tell Dock that 
 he was in no hurry for the payment of a certain 
 note that would fall due in February. In their 
 friendly days, Luther had lent Dock money.) 
 Enraged at such a reception, Luther brought his 
 own gun to his shoulder, and there was a very 
 pretty fusilade before Mizzie and the neighbors 
 could reach the place from the cotton - fields. 
 Dock had a shot in the shoulder, and Luther 
 was on the ground with that shot in the leg, 
 which was not yet healed. 
 
 To-day, for the first time, Luther was able to 
 ride to the store. He went on no pacific mis 
 sion. Dock was saving his last bales of cotton 
 for the higher spring-prices. They were at the 
 gin, near the store. Luther s business was to 
 have them attached for his debt. The very first 
 person whom he met, after he had concluded this 
 business, was a tall man, lean and awkward, with 
 a kindly freckled face and red hair in short, 
 Dock Haskett, 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 169 
 
 He had heard about the cotton. He rode 
 straight up to Luther. " This yere ain t no 
 place for talkin ," said he. " If ye reckon I 
 done ye any wrong, I am ready to have it out 
 with ye any time an place ye like ; but I prom 
 ised my gell to fotch her some flour, and I got 
 ter git it back to her fust." 
 
 Before the two men separated, they had agreed 
 to meet " an talk bout things " that afternoon, 
 at a lonely spot in the cypress brake, midway 
 between their houses. 
 
 Then they rode home, carrying no very good 
 appetite to their dinners. 
 
 Dock found the new brown bread over the fire 
 when he entered the room at home which was 
 the Hasketts kitchen, dining-room, and bed 
 chamber all in one. 
 
 The baby toddled to meet him, babbling an 
 inarticulate welcome which Mizzie interpreted at 
 length the baby was sixteen months old, and 
 more fluent than intelligible of speech. 
 
 An apple and a piece of cake had been saved 
 for the father. 
 
 44 Ye all had some?" said he. Sal Jane as 
 sured him they had, "all cept Mizzie, an she 
 fotched em." 
 
 " Mizzie an me 11 go shares," said Dock. " Ye 
 are allers good to the little tricks. Reckon I 
 kin trust em with ye," 
 
170 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 He sighed in a curious way, Mizzie thought, 
 as he spoke, and as he kissed her. While she 
 was laying the table for dinner, he helped her, 
 as usual, but more than once he caught himself 
 standing still, dish in hand, staring around the 
 room. To a mere stranger, it might have seemed 
 bare and comfortless. The bricks on the hearth 
 and in the great black throat of the fireplace 
 were uneven and broken. It was a meagre ar 
 ray of tin and delft that was ranged on the shelf 
 above. The walls were unplastered, and their 
 sole ornaments were two colored cards, one, 
 presented with a box of soap, representing a 
 very chubby infant washing himself ; the other, 
 the gift of a stray insurance agent, a red and 
 black sketch of a burning house. The floor was 
 in waves, and the only piece of carpet was be 
 fore the bed. Dock himself had chopped the 
 rude bedstead out of white-oak timbers, and Miz 
 zie had stuffed the pillows and the mattress with 
 cotton. The great cracks in the walls where 
 the clapboards were warped or broken had been 
 plastered with mud. There were barely two 
 panes of glass in the single window of the room. 
 But Dock looked fondly at the red cushions cov 
 ering the broken seats of the cane-bottomed 
 chairs, at the figured brown oilcloth on the table, 
 and the bright tin spoons which shone in the 
 blue glass jug bought by Mizzie s cotton-money, 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 171 
 
 and the lamp filled with real coal oil, and it 
 seemed to him a truly luxurious and beautiful 
 apartment, only he used no such fine words. 
 
 " Don t it look good ! " thought Dock, sorrow 
 fully. " Ye feelin puny 1 to-day, paw ? " said 
 Mizzie, with an anxious look. 
 
 "Naw, honey, I war jes studyin ." In a min 
 ute he added, in a serious tone, " Mizzie, do ye 
 set s much store by Doshy Morrow now days ez 
 ye use ter ? " 
 
 Mizzie came up closer to him and leaned her 
 head against his arm, while she answered, " Yes, 
 paw. She ain t hurted you, ye know." She 
 twisted the cloth of his sleeve, and went on, 
 " Paw, wud ye wud ye mind my learnin 
 Doshy to make this ere bread ? " 
 
 " In co se not, honey. I ain t no ill-will ter the 
 little trick, nur to her maw neether. She war 
 powerful kind to us all, onct." He muttered 
 under his breath, " May be she d be kind ag in, 
 if "_ 
 
 Instead of completing the sentence, he kissed 
 the anxious little face. 
 
 Mizzie thought that he was even kinder than 
 usual that day. After their simple dinner, she 
 saw him chopping wood. He chopped a great 
 pile, enough to last a long while, in the mild 
 weather of February and March. Then he 
 i 111. 
 
172 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 brought the sack of meal into the gallery from 
 the shed. " Handier fur ye," he muttered ; and 
 he cut up the half a pig which hung in the shed, 
 so that it was ready for cooking. 
 
 By this time, the hour was near three by the 
 wheezy old clock on the shelf. Dock returned 
 to the house. 
 
 Sal Jane was poking the fire, at that moment, 
 with an important air which was explained by 
 her first speech. 
 
 " Mizzie s gone with the baby, an I m to 
 keep the water b ilin , so the bread won t spile." 
 
 " That s right, honey," said her father. He 
 kissed her and went out again. 
 
 She thought nothing of his having his gun 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 About the same time, Luther Morrow, also 
 carrying a gun, was shutting his gate. He 
 looked grimly and sadly at the cotton-fields and 
 the house, but he forced a smile when his wife 
 nodded to him from the doorway ; and after he 
 had walked a little distance he turned to wave 
 his hand. 
 
 " Mendoshy s alluz b en a good wife ter me," 
 he thought ; " mabbe she d like fer ter member 
 that ar, ef any thin happens." 
 
 The place of meeting was marked by a blasted 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 173 
 
 cypress growing on the edge of a ravine or 
 44 slash." A tangle of thorn-trees, papaws, and 
 trumpet-vines made a rude hedge above the bank 
 on the roadside. Luther s first glance showed 
 him Dock s tall figure in blue jeans, outlined 
 against the chalk-white of the cypress. At the 
 same moment, Dock perceived his enemy, and 
 both men advanced, frowning. Half-way they 
 stopped as abruptly as if shot, with a curious 
 embarrassed, shamefaced look. Yet that which 
 had stopped them was but a child s laugh. Im 
 mediately it was answered by another childish 
 laugh. 
 
 44 They re down thar in the slash, I reckon," 
 said Dock. 44 Say, war n t that yo gell s voice ? " 
 
 44 Yes; war n t t other un your n?" said 
 Luther. He was seized with an absurd and 
 incongruous curiosity. 
 
 44 Cayn t we get nearer to see ? " said he. 
 
 Dock jerked his thumb over his shoulder, say 
 ing, " Thar s a opener place a piece back." 
 
 44 All right," said Luther. 
 
 Neither man caring to walk ahead of the other, 
 the two marched peaceably side by side. 
 
 Just so, the abrupt remembering it and the 
 sting of it made Dock wince, just so they had 
 walked over that very road a year before ; then 
 they carried a coffin between them, and the cof 
 fin was that of Dock s wife. She was buried 
 
174 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 out in the woods, as she had wished. The spot 
 was not twenty rods away. Luther had been 
 Dock s good friend and neighbor then, and it was 
 Mrs. Morrow who brought the bunch of holly 
 and red berries that was lying on the coffin. 
 " And how comes it we b en walkin yeve to-day, 
 seekin each other s blood ? " thought Dock. 
 Luther s reflections were of another nature. 
 " Thar ! if that ar bad little trick are runnin 
 with Haskett s gell agin, ayf ter my tellin her 
 I jes will guv er the bud 1 leastways, I ll 
 skeer er up, a-promisin it to her! " 
 
 Dock soon halted where the underbrush was 
 less dense. 
 
 Each of the men eyed the other sharply be 
 fore getting on his hands and knees to crawl 
 through. Luther, half-way, met with a mishap, 
 catching on a thorn-tree. A smothered excla 
 mation from him attracted Dock s notice. 
 
 " My foot got cotched in the elbow-brush," he 
 groaned, " and that ar blamed thorn-tree s got 
 hold er my breeches ; I cayn t reach it with my 
 han s, nur I cayn t kick it way with my foot. 
 Say, kin ye cut the ornery branch off ? " 
 
 " Waal, ye be helt fas , ain t ye ? " Dock an 
 swered, hastening to his aid, without a sign of 
 levity. He solemnly cut away the limb of the 
 thorn-tree. 
 
 1 Switch. 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 175 
 
 " Thank e," said Luther, in a surly voice. 
 
 They both crawled to the edge. In some way 
 they both felt a disposition to postpone their 
 quarrel. They looked over the hedge of " elbow- 
 brush " and thorn-tree and leafless trumpet-vine. 
 Down below, in the hollow, a fire had been built 
 against a log. Three sticks, crossed above, sup 
 ported a kettle on which rested a covered tin 
 vessel. A savory steam arose from this, crisp 
 ing in the air, delicious to the nostrils and beau 
 tiful to the eye. Close to the fire, Mizzie and 
 Doshy sat together. The baby sat on a blanket 
 beside Mizzie, hilariously playing with Doshy s 
 new doll. On the outskirts of the group, the 
 dog, Jerusalem Jones, was chasing a pig. 
 
 " Whut they monkeyin with onyhow ? " said 
 Luther. 
 
 " Hush ! Hark to em ! " said Dock. 
 
 Doshy was explaining something to Mizzie : 
 " An he loves brown bread a turrible sight. He 
 eat some to Mis Caroll s, an he b en talkin 
 bout it ever since. An I 11 have this yere fur 
 supper, an he 11 eat it, an he 11 say, 4 Who made 
 it ? an I 11 say Me ; an I 11 say you learned 
 me, an then he 11 low you a real nice little 
 girl." 
 
 " I m fraid he won t," said Mizzie ; " my paw 
 don t mind a bit my likin you ; but you paw d 
 like for to set the dog on me." 
 
176 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 "Naw, he wudn t neetlier," cried Dosliy. 
 " He jes lets on ter be cross ; he s real good, 
 inside. Don ye mind how he gethered them 
 pecans fur we - all afore they had the trouble ? 
 He s real kind ; he never whips none o us. 
 Jes sez he will but he dont." 
 
 "Blame it all, the pesky littly trick! She 
 b en cute miff ter fin that out," cried Luther, 
 while Dock stifled a chuckle. 
 
 " My paw s good, too," said Mizzie. " He 
 chopped a right smart er wood fur me to-day. 
 I never have to chop wood." 
 
 "Neither does maw," said Doshy, proudly. 
 " My paw always does hit, an he done a heap 
 to-day, too." 
 
 The two fathers exchanged glances ; without 
 a word each read what the other s forebodings 
 had been, by what he remembered of his own. 
 And each felt, in a vague and dubious way, 
 complimented by the other s dread of being 
 killed. 
 
 A loud scream from one of the little girls 
 turned their eyes back to the fire. Jerusalem 
 Jones had worked mischief. He thought it was 
 an unprotected orphan of a pig that he was ha 
 rassing ; so, barking and jumping, he had chased 
 the wretched little beast into the brake. But, in 
 a second, he came back faster than he went, and 
 pursued by three wild hogs. These wild hogs 
 
TEE LOAF OF PEACE. 177 
 
 are hideous creatures, long, muscular, with great 
 black heads, and tusks like scimiters curling up 
 ward out of their jaws. They would have ended 
 Jerusalem Jones s ill-doing in short order, had 
 .they caught him. Jerusalem, howling with 
 fright, bounded up to the girls, the wild hogs at 
 his heels, uttering the sti ange, fierce sound 
 which these beasts make when they rally to face 
 the hunter. It is the note of danger. The girls 
 turned pale. They leaped to their feet. Mizzie 
 snatched up the baby. With a single bound 
 and a mighty swing of her strong little arms, 
 she dropped the astonished infant in the midst 
 of a thicket of thorn-trees. Then, snatching a 
 brand from the fire, she stood at bay. 
 
 "Fight em with the fire, Doshy ! " she said; 
 " don let em git our bread ! " 
 
 Doshy had bravely caught a stick, but seeing 
 the baby safe, she had flown to the rescue of 
 Jerusalem Jones. The dog was rolling on the 
 ground in desperate conflict with the smallest 
 hog. In his agony, Jerusalem wrenched him 
 self free and made a flying leap through the fire, 
 thereby overturning the gypsy kettle and send 
 ing the brown bread tin headlong at the hogs. 
 Doshy uttered a piteous scream : 
 
 " Oh, my bread ! my nice bread ! " 
 
 Mizzie was on the other side nearer the brown- 
 bread. Before the huge black noses could touch 
 the tin, she kicked over the log. 
 
178 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 " Gether the bread an run ! " she screamed. 
 
 The two hogs turned on Mizzle. Doshy was 
 running to her playmate s aid ; but she was too 
 far away. Horrified, she saw one infuriated 
 boar strike the burning stick out of the brave 
 little hand. " Jeru ! Jeru ! " she cried in her 
 despair, while she threw her stick at the hog. 
 
 Let it be told to his credit, Jerusalem re 
 sponded ; though he had run on his own account, 
 though he was bleeding in half a dozen places, 
 the dog leaped back into the fray, drove his 
 teeth through the big boar s ear, and hung there. 
 The boar had caught Mizzie s skirt ; he flung 
 up his wicked head now. But, meanwhile, the 
 other boar, with his teeth clashing, his eyes like 
 red coals 
 
 " Oh, Lord, Luther ! " gasped Dock, " cayn fc 
 ye git a sight at it ? My pore little gell s square 
 in front o me ! " 
 
 He shut his eyes for one intolerable second ; 
 the next, the ping of a bullet made him crash 
 his way through the brush, and slip recklessly 
 down the bank. As an apple falls when hit by 
 a stone, the boar tumbled to the ground. Then 
 Dock s bullet laid the other hog beside him. 
 
 The sagacious Jerusalem had loosened his 
 hold when he saw the gun-barrel. Now he 
 capered over the body with yells of triumph. 
 But he ceased his dance and looked in amaze- 
 
THE LOAF OF PEACE. 179 
 
 ment at his master, who was actually hugging 
 Haskett s girl. 
 
 "Please, Mister Morrow," she said, "look a 
 the baby. I put im in, but I cay n t git im 
 out." 
 
 The baby, however, was already in his father s 
 arms. Doshy was mourning over her brown 
 bread. 
 
 " Put it back in the steamer," commanded 
 Mizzie, adding : " Oh, please, Mister Morrow, 
 t ain t Doshy s fault, bein with me ; I coaxed 
 her fur ter learn ter make the bread ! " 
 
 "Honey," her father answered tenderly, " it s 
 the bes bread ever was baked ! an Haskett 
 n me 11 eat it together. Won t we, Dock ? " 
 
 " We will so," said Dock, rubbing the tears 
 from his eyes, " an I guv in, now, bout the 
 shootin*. / cud n t hev made that shot jest 
 un er the child s elbow ! Why, ye got a han o 
 iron " 
 
 " An / guv in bout that ar ornery, triflin , 
 no- count dog," answered Luther ; " ye was right 
 for ter shoot im, Dock. Ye kin kill him off, 
 this miimit, ef yer wan ter." 
 
 " Naw, sir. Not ayfter his tacklin that hoeg 
 ez he did," cried Dock ; " but ye know, Luther, 
 I meant that shot, six months ago, fer him, 
 not fer you ; an I are turrible sorry I done 
 hit" 
 
180 THE LOAF OF PEACE. 
 
 " Shet up ! " said Luther, impulsively. " I ve 
 done ez mean by you ez you ve done by me. 
 Blamed if I know how it come we-uns was fight- 
 in , onyhow. Say, let s take the brown bread 
 ter my house an eat it an tell Mendoshy." 
 
 Thus it happened that the man who passed the 
 Morrow house that evening had a most extraor 
 dinary tale to relate at the store. 
 
 " I tell ye, they was all roun the table, Dock 
 Haskett an his baby, an his two gells an all 
 the Morrowses. An Luther he kissed Haskett s 
 gell spang on the forehead, an he war a-cuttin 
 her a hunk o brown bread. An Dock, he says, 
 4 She did n t do no better nor yore gell ; an 
 then Luther he guvs his gell a buss, too, an they 
 all were a-laffin , an Mis Morrow she laffed till 
 she cried." 
 
 Aunt Callie s comment was, " Waal, good 
 cookin s never wasted, an them gells ain t likely 
 to fer<nt how to make brown bread. I ain t 
 
 O 
 
 sorry I 1 arned er, though, ez a gineral thing, I 
 ain t no pinion er folkses romancin roun my 
 kitchen." 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 IT was a warm day. Perhaps but for that it 
 might not have happened, since Captain Barris 
 is a most temperate man. Unluckily, the day 
 was warm, very warm, and Archy was tired with 
 a long ride in the " accommodation train ; " and 
 a vision of a glass of beer cool, foaming, pleas 
 antly stinging rose before him. He had just 
 been stationed at Rock Island Arsenal, and all 
 his knowledge of the town of Grinnell was the 
 fact that he had inherited some property within 
 its limits. Quite innocently, therefore, he stared 
 about him for some sign of refreshment. 
 
 The street was like a hundred rural streets in 
 the West straight, broad, and shaded by 
 young trees. 
 
 All the wooden cottages might have been de 
 signed by the same prosaic architect. 
 
 Some of them looked a little rusty ; many of 
 them shone with new paint. They all had trim 
 gardens in front, oases of verdure in the midst 
 of the dust. Between the dwellings, every now 
 
182 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 and then, there would come a great gap of un- 
 tilled fields, where no mower disturbed the 
 riotous plantain, and burdock and jimson weeds 
 held a kind of squalid revelry over a heap of tin 
 cans. The contrast between this unkempt do 
 main and the tidiness of the dwellings was 
 queer; but it was as Western as the sea of 
 prairie around the town, or the fierce sun above. 
 No quiver in the hot air blurred the shadows 
 of the maple leaves on the sidewalks. A few 
 farmers wagons crawled tediously through the 
 glare. Just ahead of Archy was the solitary 
 other footman in sight. He was a big man, thin, 
 but built on the large and sinewy plan. Though 
 it was so warm, his gray head was covered with 
 a soft black felt hat, and he wore the heaviest 
 of boots. To equalize matters, he carried his 
 black coat on his arm and had unbuttoned his 
 old-fashioned waistcoat. He walked slowly, 
 with the round shoulders and uneven gait of a 
 man accustomed to watch the ground. 
 
 So little did Archy know of the interior of 
 Iowa that he marched up to this old man and 
 asked where he could get a glass of beer. 
 
 His answer was the view of a gaunt and 
 weather-beaten visage and a portentous frown. 
 
 " Kin I tell you where ye kin get a glass of 
 beer?" repeated the man, who frowned as the 
 keen gray eyes under the beetling brows took in 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 183 
 
 Archy s elegant figure, from the white Derby 
 hat of the period to his immaculate gaiters. 
 " No, young man, I cayn t ; and I d advise you 
 to quit huntin up beer, or ye won t wear sich 
 good clo se long. Anyhow, ye won t find no 
 beer in Grinnell? " 
 
 " What s the trouble with Grinnell? " 
 
 " The trouble is, it s a prohibition town ; and 
 prohibition in Grinnell does prohibit. There 
 ain t a saloon in the place. Ye cayn t git a drop 
 of intoxicatin liquor, not a drop " 
 
 Here his underjaw fell, his eyeballs fixed 
 themselves in a dismal stare; and the didactic 
 forefinger, that had been sawing the air, was 
 paralyzed midway, so that it pointed straight at 
 the red-faced man reeling round the corner. 
 The look and the swagger of him were unmis 
 takable. 
 
 " Perhaps he could tell me," said Archy. 
 
 He made the old man a very fine bow and 
 walked away, smiling. 
 
 But when he returned to Grinnell, a year 
 later, he was more serious. " I dare say Rachel s 
 father is another of the same sort," he reflected ; 
 " if not by Jove, that would be too much, 
 though ! " 
 
 He laughed a little lugubriously. Rachel was 
 beautiful enough, and, what was better, sweet 
 and good enough to justify any man s passion ; 
 
184 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 and he was as much in love as a man can well 
 be ; but he thought of her people with a qualm. 
 
 " I grant that Rachel is an angel " so his 
 mother had talked and the angels are above 
 social distinctions ; but her father and mother ? " 
 
 " Her mother is presumedly an angel, too," 
 Archy had replied, "she has been dead these 
 ten years." 
 
 " Well, there are her father and two brothers. 
 And she told me that there was a cousin visiting 
 them whom her father was going to marry. She 
 comes from Vermont ; but I don t believe the 
 boys have ever been out of Grinnell in their 
 lives. You can t judge these people by the 
 Eamsays, Archy ; the Eamsays have been every 
 where. It was only a freak of Mr. Eamsay s, 
 sending Ethel to Grinnell. Archy, I feel sure 
 her people are impossible ! " 
 
 " I sha n t marry her people," Archy had said, 
 lightly. 
 
 But now, with some misgivings, he scanned 
 the elderly men coming home to their midday 
 dinners, any one of whom might be her father. 
 Sedate, prosperous looking men they were, very 
 like men of their years in a New England vil 
 lage, except for a slight Western negligence of 
 dress. 
 
 " Ramsay is right," mused Archy ; " Grinnell 
 is a Puritan colony in the prairie." 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 185 
 
 He was in the college campus, now. The 
 ugly, square stone building he judged to be the 
 college hall, and from the number of heads at 
 the windows, he surmised that a tall brick build 
 ing was a kind of dormitory. The pretty cot 
 tages about must be the professors houses, and 
 the young men and maidens among the trees 
 must be the students. He thought that the 
 youths had rather a rustic air, but some of the 
 girls were admirably pretty, and the ripple of 
 their gayety spread to the faces of the passers-by. 
 
 " But not one of them," was his comment, 
 " can compare with Rachel Hallo ! here s 
 the house." 
 
 A doorplate left him in no doubt. The house 
 was of wood, of two stories, and had two bay- 
 windows and a piazza. It was painted gray, 
 and the blinds were red. There was a garden 
 before it full of rosebushes, and the roses were 
 in bloom. Archy grew a little dizzy ; he had 
 not seen Rachel for a week ; he would see her in 
 a moment, and being a modest, true-hearted 
 young fellow, very much in love, his soul abased 
 itself before this delicate and radiant creature 
 that he was daring to make his own. 
 
 " My white rose," murmured the lover, " I am 
 not worthy, but I will try." 
 
 " Cayn t ye make nobuddy hear ye ? That 
 gong s intended to ring," remarked a harsh, 
 
186 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 deep voice at his elbow. An old man had come 
 around a bay-window to find Archy smiling ten 
 derly at the doorplate. It was the same old 
 man whom he had met before. 
 
 " I am looking for Mr. Jared Meadowes," 
 said Archy, whose heart sank down to his boots. 
 
 " Well, you ve found him." 
 
 Inwardly Archy groaned. Outwardly he 
 bowed, and said, " I am Captain Barris." 
 
 " Walk in," said Meadowes, throwing the 
 door open, but with no gleam of cordiality on 
 his face. 
 
 He strode on before, Archy thinking how fa 
 miliar his back looked, for he was in his shirt 
 sleeves. He had also dispensed with shoes, and 
 his white socks glimmered in the obscurity of 
 the hall. Archy followed him into a pretty 
 room, and took the chair pushed forward. The 
 old man seated himself opposite, planted his 
 hands on his knees in the fashion of a rustic 
 photograph, and proceeded to subject the young 
 officer to a grim and leisurely scrutiny. De 
 cidedly, it was not a promising welcome. 
 
 However, one cannot sit indefinitely staring 
 at one s prospective father-in-law, so Archy 
 cleared his throat and began. He presumed 
 Mr. Meadowes knew the object of his visit. He 
 had met Miss Meadowes at her friend Miss 
 Ramsay s. 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 187 
 
 "Six weeks ago," interrupted the old man, 
 " ar.d now ye want to marry her." 
 
 A trifle disconcerted, Archy next tried to ex 
 plain his position and prospects. " He was in 
 the army, stationed at Rock Island Arsenal. 
 The quarters there " 
 
 " That s all right," said the old man, " I ve 
 been on the Island. Big thing. Big arsenal. 
 But I want to hear bout you." 
 
 " Oh, I ? I am twenty-eight years of age. 
 My father was in the army, General Barris. He 
 was killed in the war. It is rather an army 
 family. My mother is a Massachusetts woman. 
 She was a Miss Saltonstall." 
 
 " Dependent on you? " 
 
 " She has about half a million dollars from 
 her father. I have one sister, who is married, 
 and lives in New York. She is not dependent 
 on me either. My mother lives with me. She 
 everybody thinks my mother a charming 
 woman." 
 
 " But Rachel ain t goin to marry your mo 
 ther. Cayn t seem to git ye to talk bout your 
 self. Ramsay gives you a fine send off in his 
 letter; but things don t strike him and I just 
 the same. I guess you re a desirable husband 
 as the world looks at things ; but I ain t one of 
 the world s people. Never was. You ain t the 
 kind of husband I d pick out for my daughter. 
 
188 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 Nor yours ain t the kind of life I d choose for 
 her. But if you re a good man, and likely to 
 make her happy, I won t stand in the way. It s 
 nature, I s pose. I took her mother off to Kan 
 sas, way from her folks, an now you want to 
 take her, an she s glad to go ; but *t ain t nature 
 I should be glad to have her. Well, now, 
 s posin you stop to dinner an give me a chance 
 to sorter size ye up ; an if I like the look o ye 
 I 11 go down to Rock Island, and if you re sat 
 isfactory all round, it will be time to talk of 
 marrying." 
 
 " I shall wait until after dinner, then," said 
 Archy, smiling. 
 
 No answering smile relaxed the other s iron 
 features as he replied : " All right. Make your 
 self to home. I 11 go tell the folks." 
 
 He left Archy in a frame of mind about 
 equally compounded of irritation, amusement, 
 and consternation. The young man could not 
 help laughing as he pictured his mother s hor 
 ror when she should see Meadowes. " Well, 
 anyhow, I don t blame him for not wanting to 
 give up Rachel," he thought, gazing about the 
 room for some trace of this one sweet presence. 
 He rightly judged the soft hues of the walls and 
 draperies, and the pretty feminine fancies of 
 wicker-work and ribbon, to be of her choosing ; 
 but he gave old Meadowes full credit for the 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 189 
 
 plaster group representing the signing of the 
 Emancipation Proclamation, and for a huge, 
 pale engraving of Lincoln in the bosom of his 
 family. Above the mantel-piece hung a water- 
 color portrait, sumptuously framed, with a jar 
 of roses before it, like an offering before a shrine. 
 Plainly, it was the important object in the room. 
 The portrait was a man s head. The features, 
 the brows, and the contour of the face, which 
 was clean shaven, reminded Archy of those mul 
 titudinous busts in the Vatican. Like them, 
 also, was the singularly calm and determined 
 expression. But the blue eyes were mild, sad, 
 and dreamy. Archy had risen for a nearer view, 
 when the inmates of the house appeared. They 
 were Rachel, her future stepmother, and her 
 two brothers. The future stepmother was intro 
 duced as Miss Baker. She resembled Rachel 
 in figure and carriage, rather than in features 
 or coloring ; and Archy had a fancy that her 
 gentle, faded face looked a good deal as the late 
 Mrs. Meadowes s might have done at the age of 
 
 say forty. But, naturally, his glance only 
 
 lingered a polite instant before it sought Rachel. 
 Her lover had often compared Rachel to the 
 wild flowers growing in the clefts of New Eng 
 land rocks. Her extraordinary beauty was of 
 that fragile type that has a pathos in its very 
 charm. Really, Rachel was both healthy and 
 
190 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 happy, and her father loved to boast of her 
 prowess in mathematics at the Grinnell College; 
 yet, whoever looked on her exquisite, pale face, 
 with its wistful eyes and sensitive mouth, felt an 
 involuntary sympathy, well enough interpreted 
 by Archy s mother s remark : " That is the kind 
 of girl who can break her heart ! " She was a 
 creature to whom one is gentle by instinct. 
 Nevertheless, such creatures have their own 
 strength. She was graceful because she could 
 not help it, and had a natural sense of beauty. 
 Archy felt a fond pride as the lovely shape ap 
 proached. Nothing more than a white frock 
 and some red roses ; but how they suited her ! 
 
 By this time he was back in his chair, beam 
 ing with great friendliness upon the two youths, 
 Ossawatomie (" Is he named for an Indian 
 chief?" wondered Archy) and Jared. They 
 were twin brothers, two years younger than Ra 
 chel ; both tall, slim, and shy ; having their sis 
 ter s fascinating combination of bronze hair and 
 dark-brown eyes, but with features that were a 
 softened copy of their father s. Jared did not 
 open his lips ; Ossawatomie made some timid 
 advances. To help on the lagging talk, Archy 
 spoke of the water-color. " It was painted on 
 East," said Ossawatomie, " from a daguerreo 
 type. It is John Brown." 
 
 " The Queen s John Brown, or John Brown s 
 body ? " Archy asked, with his fatal levity. 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 191 
 
 " That, sir," said a deep voice, " is John Brown 
 of Ossawatomie, the noblest man that ever died 
 for liberty ! " 
 
 Archy had not seen him approach, and who 
 can hear the footfall of socks ? There he stood 
 in the doorway, forefinger uplifted, as grim and 
 dark a figure as ever sent a witch to the gallows. 
 " Well, sir," he continued, " what is your opin 
 ion of him ? " 
 
 "He was a hero, certainly," said Archy, 
 " whatever his mistakes." 
 
 " What mistakes ?" 
 
 " Well, Harper s Ferry. And that Missouri 
 affair where they dragged men out of their cab 
 ins, and shot them in the hearing of their wives 
 and children " 
 
 The old man interrupted him as usual : 
 " Brown was n t on that raid. But that ain t 
 sayin he condemned it ; he did n t. And you 
 need n t waste much pity on them men. They 
 had blood on their own hands, every one of 
 them ; they had murdered Free State men ; and 
 they were judged, condemned, and killed for it, 
 as they had ought to be. That s all there is to 
 that affair. Those border ruffians used to ride 
 over into Kansas, and slay, and steal, and burn. 
 They d come over and vote, and make our laws 
 for us. Then they d shoot us cause we ob 
 jected. Did n t ye never hear of the sack of Law- 
 
192 TEE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 rence? A neighbor of mine was shot down, 
 right before his wife, by three men. Three to 
 one, those were their odds. I know all about it, 
 for I was one of Brown s men. I was only a 
 stripling, but I" had the luck to be in four 
 fights, and I got a bullet in my leg that, like s 
 not, saved my life, for else I d a gone off with 
 Brown to Harper s Ferry, so I guess I owe one 
 good turn to a border ruffian. But, I tell you, 
 I did n t thank him for it when I read in the 
 papers how those he counted on failed him, and 
 he was trapped and lay wounded in prison, and 
 then how he died. I d lay on my bed and cry, 
 cause I could n t be there and fight it out with 
 him. Say, sir, you that call Harper s Ferry a 
 mistake, say, did you ever read the letters he 
 wrote when he was in prison in Charleston ? " 
 
 " No, I don t think I have ; I don t remember 
 them," said Archy, meekly. 
 
 " Then you d better, fore ye discuss Brown 
 and his mistakes "again," said Brown s old fol 
 lower. 
 
 It was a welcome diversion to have Rachel, 
 who had left the room for a second, return to 
 announce dinner. Archy managed to get near 
 enough to her for a whisper ; but she only gave 
 him a frightened glance and said, "Please don t 
 talk about Brown to pa until you know more. 
 Ossie s named after him. Pa thinks the world 
 of him ! " 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 193 
 
 The meal began ominously. Archy had been 
 praising the pretty town. 
 
 " We owe our prosperity to our liquor laws," 
 said Mr. Meadowes, " Humph, did ye find any 
 beer that day?" 
 
 So he had remembered ! Archy, blushing in 
 spite of himself, said no, he had n t tried. 
 
 " You drink to home, I s pose. Have wine on 
 the table?" 
 
 Archy confessed to .an occasional glass of 
 claret with his dinner. 
 
 " Them boys," said the old man, slanting his 
 thumbs at the twins, " them boys ain t never 
 touched a drop of spirituous liquor in their lives." 
 
 "Indeed," said Archy, trying to throw a sym 
 pathetic accent into the word. 
 
 44 Yes, sir. And the majority of the boys 
 here have the same habits. That s the great 
 advantage of a prohibitory law ; it makes a town 
 safe to raise boys in. I would n t raise a family 
 in Davenport if you gave me my home." 
 
 44 But Davenport is a delightful place, don t 
 you know, Mr. Meadowes ; and, in spite of their 
 saloons, there is n t a town in Iowa with a smaller 
 percentage of criminal business." 
 
 " All the same," Meadowes retorted, sardon 
 ically, " we ll try to improve it a bit. We are 
 going to pass a law that will wipe out the sa 
 loons all over Iowa. P raps you don t believe 
 sich a law kin be enforced ? " 
 
194 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 " Well, it never^ has been. Why don t you 
 try high license ? " 
 
 "Because I don t believe in compromising 
 with evil. That s why ! I fought slavery in my 
 youth, an I ni fighting rum in my old age. And 
 I ve been a no-compromise man straight through. 
 I learned that from old John Brown. There 
 was n t much compromising about him. It was 
 a grand thing to see him in battle. And they 
 say it was grander to see him die. And yet there 
 was n t a man was gentler or kinder-hearted. He 
 never took no thought of himself. Look at that 
 letter he wrote his wife from the prison, beggin 
 her not to come to him, cause it would use up 
 all her little stock of money, and she might be 
 insulted or hard treated. But I m wandering. 
 Brown s only a fanatic to you. He was not of 
 this world, and the world martyred him, an you 
 compromise men stood by consenting unto his 
 blood. You re a high-license man yourself, I 
 take it. Believe in doing evil that good may 
 come, hey ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Archy, smiling. Somehow 
 during the last few moments his thoughts had 
 grown kinder to the loyal old partisan. " Oh, 
 no, I merely choose between a little evil and a 
 great deal. I 11 take less than the earth. But, 
 really, Mr. Meadowes, I have n t studied the sub 
 ject enough to discuss it. Can t you ask me 
 something easy ? " 
 
THE DAY 9F THE CYCLONE. 195 
 
 Ossie ventured to laugh. Jared frowned. 
 " What are your politics ? " said the old man, 
 sternly. 
 
 " I am not sure that I have any. Sometimes 
 I am a Republican, and sometimes a Democrat. 
 I believe I was a Democrat last." 
 
 Now, in the interior of Iowa Republicanism 
 is, still, a species of religion. 
 
 A gasp of dismay ran through the circle. 
 
 " Those are your opinions, are they ? " said the 
 old man, sternly. " A trimmer. Well. Will 
 you have any more meat ? " 
 
 Archy declined, and Mr. Meadowes only spoke 
 to him once again during the meal. The once 
 was when he observed Archy shredding his salad 
 with his fork. " Ain t ye got no knife ? " called 
 he. " Lowisa " to the red - haired maid 
 " give Captain Barris a knife." 
 
 " He s got a knife," the girl said sharply ; 
 " there s your knife ! " pushing the blade at 
 Archy, who silently cut up his lettuce. But Ra 
 chel reddened up to her eyes. 
 
 The dinner was excellent. I don t know how 
 many hours Rachel and Miss Baker had spent 
 in the kitchen with " Lowisa." The linen was 
 dainty, there were flowers on the table, and the 
 cut-glass tumblers, and the carafe. Rachel had 
 tripped out of the room with a happy smile, 
 thinking: "Archy will see that we can have 
 pretty things too." 
 
196 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 But now, seen through a stranger s eyes, 
 everything was wofully changed. 
 
 The oilcloth, to which her father clung be 
 cause he had always had an oilcloth on his din 
 ing-room floor ever since he was married ; that 
 preposterous sideboard, and those portraits of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Meadowes that a gifted sign- 
 painter had done just before they left Kansas 
 did Archy notice them, was he laughing at 
 them ? Even the table appointments were not 
 an unmixed triumph. Jared asked, where was 
 the " water - pitcher " ? " Lowisa " forgot the 
 white apron that had been furnished her. She 
 piled the dishes noisily into dizzy towers, and it 
 was almost an interposition of Providence that 
 she did n t slay Mr. Meadowes outright, as she 
 swung the meat platter above his head, with the 
 carving-knife prancing on the edge, while he sat 
 below, like an unconscious Damocles. It was 
 no use trying to catch " Lowisa s " eye ; her 
 mind was on the sweets in the kitchen, and you 
 must speak to the point, and in a good round 
 tone too, or she would glare at you and say 
 " How ? " Rachel thought of Mrs. Barris s din 
 ners, the beautiful room, the glittering table, the 
 noiseless service. Every rough gesture of her 
 father s was like a blow. She could have groaned 
 when he brandished his knife at Archy, in the 
 courage of his opinions, or mopped his face with 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 197 
 
 his napkin. His blunt discourtesy was worse 
 than anything else. " How could he ? How 
 could he ? " she kept saying to herself, in a 
 spasm of mortification. Yet, all the while, she 
 was angry with her lover. That indefinable thrill 
 of kindred, of the blood that is thicker than 
 water, was sending hot flushes of mingled shame 
 and indignant affection to her cheeks. What 
 could Archy know of her father, of his heroic 
 devotion to principle, his honesty, that was a 
 proverb in the town, and of how under that 
 harsh exterior was the tenderest, faithfullest 
 heart why, though he talked so fiercely about 
 saloon-keepers, he had half-supported Gus 
 Timm s family after they sold him out and 
 poured the barrels into tho street ! What did 
 Archy know, sitting there so easily, sneering at 
 his spiritual betters ? 
 
 Meanwhile poor Archy, ignorant of this tu 
 mult of feeling, was congratulating himself on 
 having kept his temper so well. 
 
 The dinner, at last, came to an end. Instantly 
 Meadowes spoke to Rachel, " I want to see you 
 a minnit, daughter." 
 
 They went out together. Ossie and Miss Ba 
 ker exchanged a sorrowful glance ; and Miss 
 Baker said, " Won t you please step into the 
 parlor, Captain Barris ? " in much the same tone 
 in which one might say, " Won t you walk into 
 the silent tomb ? " 
 
198 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 The air had grown close and warm. Jared 
 flung off his coat without ceremony. Ossie sat 
 on the piano-stool making aimless half-circles of 
 motion and looking dejected. Miss Baker es 
 sayed a few commonplaces on the late maga 
 zines ; but her eyes kept wandering to the door, 
 and Archy s best efforts at sprightliness fell flat ; 
 in fact, his listeners gazed at him more and more 
 compassionately. It was a distinct relief, after 
 half an hour of this, to see old Meadowes reap 
 pear. Simultaneously, as though they were pup 
 pets on a single string which he had pulled, the 
 others jumped up and filed out of the room. 
 
 Archy felt a dismal presentiment. It was no 
 false prophet; in the fewest and curtest sen 
 tences Meadowes told him that his proposal 
 must be rejected. " I ve looked ye over and ye 
 wun t do," said he ; " you re a drinkin man " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Meadowes, I was 
 never under the influence of liquor in my life. 
 I don t care for the stuff." 
 
 Unconsciously Archy squared his shoulders ; 
 he had risen on Mr. Meadowes s entrance, and 
 was still standing. The old man looked at him 
 a gallant figure, erect, athletic, with his fair 
 skin flushing, his handsome head thrown back a 
 little, and his frank blue eyes sparkling. Old 
 Meadowes drew an abrupt sigh. " I did n t say 
 you got drunk," he replied ; u I said you was a 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 199 
 
 drinkin man, a moderate drinker, if you like 
 that expression better " 
 
 " Very moderate." 
 
 " I don t take no stock in moderate drinkers ; 
 if they re too cold-blooded to go to perdition 
 themselves, they lead other people there, and I 
 ain t sure but that s worse. You are a Demo 
 crat and an aristocrat. Ramsay says you ain t 
 a professor of religion jest a sort of piscopaL 
 We ain t got an opinion in common." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, we have one. your daugh 
 ter" 
 
 " That ain t the same thing, even. You think 
 you re in love with her now, but when you find 
 her principles interferin with your amusements, 
 and your fine friends are laughing at you behind 
 your back, you 11 git angry with her. I would 
 have more hopes of ye if you d stood up fair 
 and square for the bad things you j believe in ; 
 there d be some chance of convertin you to 
 righteousness ; but you re like the Lacedamo- 
 nians the postle talks of. Ye shew what was in 
 ye at the dinner-table. Ye did n t want no dis- 
 putin ; oh, no, you was willin to make any con 
 cessions, till ye d got Rachel way ; then I guess 
 you d sing another song. But I tell you, Cap 
 tain Barris," he drew himself up to his full 
 height, his countenance grew rigid, and he made 
 a single downward stroke with his forefinger, 
 
200 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 " I tell yon, I d ruther see my innocent child 
 dead, right here, than married to a cold-hearted, 
 unprincipled, sneerin aristocrat that will break 
 her heart, or else ruin her principles," 
 
 "You can hardly expect me to take this as 
 final," said Archy, coldly. 
 
 " Oh ! ye kin see Rachel, if ye wanter," the 
 old man answered. All at once he looked des 
 perately tired and spoke wearily, quite without 
 anger. " It will be an additional pain to her ; 
 but you ve both got it to go through, and ye kin 
 talk it over together. I 11 call her. Good-by, 
 Captain Barris. I expect ye won t care for it, 
 but I m sorry for you." He extended his hand. 
 Archy felt the same odd movement of friendli 
 ness for the stanch old soul that he had felt be 
 fore, struggling up to the surface of his sensa 
 tions through all the anger and sting of the 
 moment. i 
 
 w No, Mr. Meadowes," said he, " I can t shake 
 hands, for I mean to do my best to persuade 
 your daughter to marry me." 
 
 " Try," said the old man, stonily, walking off. 
 
 Then Eachel came. She looked white and 
 miserable, and had a package in her hands. 
 Archy would not look at her face ; he caught 
 her in his arms, whispering, " You won t be so 
 cruel, my love ; it s nonsense my giving you up 
 I can t I " 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 201 
 
 " You must" said Rachel, trembling, but try 
 ing to release herself ; " please let me go, Cap 
 tain Barris." 
 
 The young man stepped back rather an exag 
 gerated distance. He looked at her steadily. 
 " You don t mean that you will throw me over 
 like this" said he. 
 
 Rachel made a great effort and controlled her 
 voice. It was just the soft, caressing, plaintive 
 voice that one would expect of her ; but now it 
 was on that level of intonation that comes when 
 the will has to hold every word steady, lest it 
 turn into a sob. " My father," said she, " it s 
 all true what my father says ; we are altogether 
 different. The people you go with laugh at the 
 things I have been taught were the most im 
 portant. They call earnest Christian people 
 4 prigs ; * and your mother was so surprised when 
 I told her I belonged to the W. C. T. U., and 
 said, Oh, my dear, don t ; that sort of thing 
 stamj)s one ! She made me feel as though I 
 had confessed to having been in jail. Captain 
 Barris, your mother is ashamed of me. And 
 you would be if you married me. You are 
 ashamed of my folks " She choked with the 
 remembrance of the torture of the dinner-table. 
 
 Archy looked at her in a confusion of anger, 
 pity, and despair. " But, Rachel," he cried, ve 
 hemently, " you knew all about this before, when 
 
202 THE DAY OF TEE CYCLONE. 
 
 you promised to marry me. What does all this 
 r stuff matter when we love each other? 
 Come, my darling, when you know us better you 
 will find we have our principles, too, though we 
 may seem to make light of them." 
 
 " They are different ; everything is different. 
 I was afraid always, but I You had n t seen 
 my father, then ; I told you if he consented. 
 But he would be wretched " 
 
 "You would rather make me wretched than 
 him ? " 
 
 Kachel was standing ; she sat down before she 
 answered faintly, " Yes." 
 
 " Then," said he, " when you told me that last 
 evening on the island that you " 
 
 " Please don t," she whispered ; and she said 
 aloud, " Jared ! " 
 
 Archy did not know that she felt herself faint 
 ing, and her cry to her brother, passing by the 
 door, was only because of this. He thought 
 that she wanted to cut the interview short. He 
 was stung to the quick. 
 
 He caught up his hat and bowed. " In that 
 case," said he, " I will not prolong an interview 
 that seems to distress you. I wish you every 
 good fortune, Miss Meadowes." 
 
 Not daring to raise her eyes, she dizzily lifted 
 the package in her lap. But he had turned his 
 back. The poor girl had put a few tear-stained 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 203 
 
 words between the lids of her Bible, and placed 
 it with his notes and the trifling gifts that she 
 had allowed him to give her ; the little bundle 
 slipped from her limp fingers, and, just as Ar- 
 chy s footsteps pounded along the walk, Rachel s 
 head sank on her brother s arm in the first swoon 
 of her life. 
 
 Archy went striding down the street. Well, 
 to this day he has a little tightening of the throat 
 recalling the next few hours. He was in a fever 
 of wrath and anguish : furious with Rachel, who 
 could give him up so tamely, raving at himself 
 for flinging up his chance in a fit of temper. 
 Then he essayed a cynical gayety, and felt his 
 eyes smarting with tears because he had remem 
 bered some trumpery incident of the past weeks 
 and the cadences of Rachel s laugh. Ah ! have 
 n t we most of us just such moments to remem 
 ber, with their sickening oscillations of love and 
 anger and despair ! How long Archy walked 
 he could not tell, but when he resumed a saner 
 mood enough to look about him, he was among 
 the low hills, covered with wheat and oats, out 
 side the town ; and night was falling. Clever 
 alienists have their patients walked to exhaus 
 tion sometimes, and perhaps lovers, who are 
 in a measure insane people, may be helped the 
 same way. At any rate, by this time Archy s 
 sweet temper had acquitted Rachel. He even 
 
204 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE, 
 
 had a glimmer of the truth, and he began to 
 hope again. 
 
 He turned himself about, resolved to walk 
 past the Meadowes house. He would not call, 
 but if by accident 
 
 As he passed through the college campus he 
 heard a girl s laugh. 
 
 " See how funny the sky looks ! " she said to 
 the young man beside her. " Look you are 
 not looking at all ! " 
 
 " I have something better to look at," said he. 
 
 Archy brushed past them impatiently. Yet 
 it was a strange sky. Although the sun had 
 set, the western sky, up to the zenith, burned 
 with a lurid radiance. Funnel-shaped clouds, 
 inky-black, dipped into this unearthly brilliancy. 
 While Archy looked, he became aware of the 
 utter stillness of the air. Not a bird s chirp, 
 not the hum of an insect. He had a peculiarly 
 ghastly sensation, as of one that feels for a pulse 
 and there is no throb. " What a cursed ni<rht ! " 
 
 O 
 
 he muttered. It was the night of the 17th of 
 June, 1882. 
 
 He went on. He passed the Meadowes house. 
 
 Then he turned, saying to himself that he 
 would go to his hotel and write to Rachel ; he 
 even remembered that he had missed his supper, 
 when he saw Rachel come out of the house. 
 It was too dark to see her face, but he knew her 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 205 
 
 figure and a certain blue shawl that she used to 
 wear. Afire now with hope and impatience, he 
 pursued her. Suddenly that dear form grew 
 dim. The strange light was fading, the black 
 funnels dipped lower, lower into the glow, and 
 the dark tree-leaves began to rustle. Directly, 
 the air vibrated with a horrible grinding noise, 
 compared, afterward, to many sounds, like them 
 all, yet most appallingly different from all. And 
 then it came ! Earth and air were rent into 
 chaos. The tall trees swayed, snapped, fell. 
 Houses were swept from their moorings, and 
 whirled shivering and crashing away. They 
 were chopped into splinters. They were scat 
 tered like a handful of dust. There was no 
 more space ; the air itself was a tumult of dart 
 ing shapes, a horror of woful sounds. Archy 
 was within arm s length of Rachel. He caught 
 her waist; he flung her, or they were thrown 
 together, against the roots o! a great elm. 
 " Cling ! " he shouted ; " lie flat, and hold on 
 for your life ! " 
 
 Her head and shoulders being in a hollow of 
 the roots were partially protected, and he could 
 further shield them with his own body. He 
 felt the wind of death swaying their limbs ; he 
 was struck heavy blows, he was flogged, bat 
 tered, stung ; his tense muscles were ready to 
 snap with the strain, but he clung with the 
 
206 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 immense energy of despair. The cyclone shot 
 a hundred objects over his head rafters, 
 branches, the marble top of a table, a beast with 
 hoofs and horns, the pillows of a bed there 
 was no counting them. A house to his right 
 was smashed like an egg-shell ; a row of houses 
 to his left fell in amid frightful screams. Balls 
 of fire were skimming the ground. A girl s 
 face, the face he had seen a moment since, 
 flashed by all white and crooked, and vanished. 
 Not a rod away a man ran toward them, scream 
 ing. The wind took him, and he was gone. 
 Somewhere among the trees a piteous little voice 
 ci ied, " Mamma, come ! mamma, come ! " Back 
 of him were some people in sore plight, who 
 groaned unceasingly, and a woman shrieked, 
 " Oh ! my baby. The storm went roaring over 
 them, houses, barns, trees, hurled on either side 
 of its track. It struck the college, leveled the 
 brick building like a house of cards, peeled roof 
 and upper story off the stone building, and flung 
 a shower of blinds, glass, shingles, and bricks 
 out from the professors houses. 
 
 But surely now the worst was over ; they 
 could lie still on the ground, and the voices 
 about them were plainer. 
 
 " It s over, thank God ! " cried a man s voice. 
 
 " Well, it s finished me, anyhow," another 
 answered ; " my legs are both broke, and my 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 207 
 
 back, too, I guess. Anybody got any legs to 
 get up and look after that woman s baby ? " 
 
 The cyclone had gone; but the wind in its 
 wake was blowing furiously, and the rain fell as 
 rain never had fallen in Grinnell before ; in fact, 
 a water-spout had burst. One could scarcely 
 stand for the wind or breathe for the rain. And 
 the darkness was horrible. 
 
 Archy managed to get on his feet and to raise 
 Rachel. She held on to his arm, sobbing, " Oh, 
 my land! Oh, who is it? What has become 
 of them ? Oh, Captain Barris, what has hap 
 pened? 
 
 It was not Rachel s voice. 
 
 At that moment, the heavens blazed from 
 horizon to horizon, while a clap of thunder 
 drowned the multitudinous din of human agony. 
 Who that saw it can forget that woful battle 
 field, struck into sight, then swallowed up in 
 blackness wreck and carnage such as cannot 
 be pictured, and white faces glaring out of their 
 death-traps. Yet Archy could only see one ob 
 ject, Miss Baker s terrified face. " For God s 
 sake, where s Rachel? " he groaned. 
 
 " In the house, and he he Oh, look ! 
 Oh, look ! " 
 
 Through the sheet of rain, as the lightning 
 flashed again, they both looked. The house was 
 gone. 
 
208 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 Miss Baker showed herself the stronger of 
 the two now ; it was she who suggested that they 
 might have reached the cellar. 
 
 " Let us go," said Archy ; " but I can t leave 
 that baby up in the tree. Wait a moment I " 
 
 The little captive luckily was so wedged in 
 the branches (held fast by his frock, which was 
 torn in two and rolled round a limb, as if the 
 cyclone had deliberately tied him) that he was 
 merely bruised a little, and easily released by 
 the simple expedient (suggested by Miss Baker) 
 of cutting off the buttons and pulling him out of 
 the dress. Archy stumbled across to the cellar, 
 and at the first sound of the child s voice, a 
 woman caught him, and wept over him. She 
 said that they were all out of the cellar. Only 
 one was badly hurt, and he was calling to them 
 to leave him and go to others who could be 
 helped. 
 
 " I wish we could stay," said Miss Baker ; 
 " but we must go on, Mrs. Dane. Our house is 
 gone. And Rachel and Mr. Meadowes " 
 
 " Oh, God help you ! " said the woman ; " go, 
 do go ! " 
 
 Though they used all possible speed, they had 
 to go slowly, the ground being full of great 
 holes where trees had been uprooted, or fence- 
 posts torn out, and encumbered, moreover, with 
 the trunks of trees, and rafters, and piles of 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 209 
 
 brick, and splintered furniture of every kind 
 and shape. Once Archy stumbled over a dead 
 horse, very comfortably disposed on a feather 
 bed. His next stumble banged his knees against 
 a kitchen stove. 
 
 A second later, a lantern was flashed in their 
 eyes, and a wild-faced man shouted, " Is Thomas 
 Reynolds s house down? " 
 
 They could not tell him, and he ran by, with 
 his wild face behind his lantern. Somehow, 
 this increased their anxiety. Indeed, there was 
 something very ghastly and awful about the way 
 they would be suddenly close to a fellow-creature 
 in dire misery, and, in the space of a thought, 
 he would be gone, and the rain and the black 
 ness about them again. During all this while, 
 also, there was no diminution of the uproar of 
 shrieks, yells, groans ; rather its volume was 
 swelled by new voices, because helpers were 
 seeking for the wounded and the dead, and 
 shouted their presence. Lanterns now twinkled 
 in every direction. The men of Grinnell were 
 very generally in the business streets when the 
 cyclone came, arid this part of the town had 
 escaped. They heard the storm, and saw it 
 break. As soon as they could stand in the gale, 
 they were out with lanterns. A second and a 
 third man passed Archy. The fourth man 
 wrested Miss Baker from his arm, crying, " God 
 
210 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 be praised ! Here, hold these," he said, thrust 
 ing an axe and lantern at Archy. The action, 
 it appeared, was to free his arms, that he might 
 embrace Miss Baker, which he did most ten 
 derly. Of course, it was old Jared Meadowes. 
 
 " Eachel? " gasped Archy. 
 
 " Rachel s all right, safe and sound, thank 
 God," Meadowes replied ; " we got into the cel 
 lar. But you, Lida " 
 
 " I should have been killed but for Captain 
 Barris," said she, solemnly ; u I never could 
 have held on but for him." 
 
 The old man wrung Archy s wrist ; he could 
 not wring his hand, since the right held the 
 lantern, and the left the axe. 
 
 " She s to be my wife," said he, hoarsely. 
 " I thought I d lost her." 
 
 He made no other attempt at thanks, seeming 
 to think that sentence explained everything. 
 " But my boys, Lida," he continued ; " they re 
 both up to the college. I must go to them. 
 Kin you take her home ? " 
 
 " Nobody need take me home," said Miss Ba 
 ker, who had acted with unexpected spirit and 
 coolness all along. " I know every step of the 
 way, and I ain t a rnite hurt. You both go 
 along; you are needed here, and I don t need 
 you. You only hinder me ; I cayn t hold up 
 iny dress or nothing, getting over the logs, with 
 you round ! " 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 211 
 
 She would not even take the lantern, protest 
 ing that they would need it in their work, which 
 was so much the case that they did not insist ; 
 and so they parted. The two men turned back 
 to the college. They had not gone very far 
 before Meadowes began to swing his lantern, 
 yelling, " Hello, Ossie ! This way ! " 
 
 A young fellow, bounding recklessly over the 
 logs, stopped with a cry of joy ; plainly Ossie. 
 He explained hurriedly that there were five stu 
 dents under the ruins of the brick building, and 
 at least three buried under the roof of Central 
 College. He himself had leaped out of a win 
 dow as he felt the building lurch. He was 
 bruised and cut, but he had come down all right 
 by the bell. Jared s leg was hurt. Ossie had 
 gotten him out somehow, and he was picking 
 bricks off the other boys ; he said that he could 
 do that since his arms were sound : Ossie must 
 get help and find out about the family. " Kun 
 on, my boy," said the father. He looked in an 
 appealing way at Archy. " I guess his eye ain t 
 out, don t you ? It s only the eyelid got tore, 
 ain t it ? I would n t stop him to ask." 
 
 " It was only the eyelid. I could see plainly." 
 
 The old man drew a deep sigh of relief. 
 " Come on," said he, " you ve got mighty good 
 eyes." 
 
 Then ensued a night, the most terrible, the 
 
212 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 most pitiful, and the most noble in GrinnelFs 
 history. Well had it been named a colony of 
 Puritans ; for that night, amid desolation and 
 horror, these plain people rose to the stature of 
 heroes. Fortitude, serenity in danger, courage, 
 good sense, magnanimous civic devotion, all the 
 rugged virtues of the Puritan were there, and 
 with them an open-handed generosity and a jo 
 cose philosophy born of the prairie air. 
 
 Archy and old Meadowes worked side by side 
 the night through. They worked amid scenes so 
 awful and so piteous that all the disguises in 
 which we Anglo-Saxons like to muffle up our 
 hearts were torn away. 
 
 Archy was prepared to find the old John 
 Brown man a cool, long-headed fellow, brave and 
 patient, in fine, a good comrade ; but he did not 
 expect to see him as gentle as a woman with the 
 wounded, and he opened his eyes over the sum 
 that the old man put down on the first subscrip 
 tion paper. " It s a thank-offering to the Lord," 
 said he, solemnly, " for his mercies to me this 
 night." 
 
 The two men had worked in the greatest har 
 mony. Indeed, if anything could have amused 
 Archy during those dreadful hours, he would 
 have been amused to observe how Meadowes 
 presently came to rely on his quick eyes and 
 strong muscles. Several times the old man 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLOXE. 213 
 
 jerked a gruff word of approval at the younger 
 one. Finally, be tapped him on the shoulder, 
 saying, " Had bout *nuff of this, ain t ye ? I ve 
 just got word from Rachel that our barn s all 
 safe, and she an Lida have got an oil-stove 
 up, and some hot biscuits and coffee and cold 
 ham ready. It s broad daylight, an I guess 
 we better quit for a while. Jared s there ; 
 I d kinder like to see how his leg s comin on*. 
 An Lida s waitin to thank you." His tone 
 changed to one of grave and deep feeling. " I 
 ain t rightly thanked ye for that yet, myself," 
 said he. 
 
 Now, several times during the last hours it 
 had occurred to Archy that he was sailing into 
 the old man s favor under false colors. There 
 is a well-defined difference between risking your 
 life for another man s sweetheart and for your 
 own. 
 
 It was a temptation ; he could see Rachel, and 
 the barn, and the steam of the coffee, and the 
 turn of her white throat as she would look up, 
 and her brown eyes shining. Then he said, 
 sulkily, "That s nothing; I I ought to tell 
 you I mistook Miss Baker for Rachel." 
 
 Meadowes s lips twitched with a grin of hu 
 morous appreciation. Though a Puritan, he was 
 a Westerner. 
 
 " I 11 bet a cooky you ve been on pins and 
 
214 THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 needles," said he, "thinking whether you had 
 ought to tell me, or could git off without." His 
 face softened. "Lida does feature Rachel, an 
 they ve got the same way of walkin . Twas 
 that first turned my mind on her." He hesi 
 tated. " I guess you d have done bout the 
 same if you had known." 
 
 " Of course," said Archy, indignantly. 
 
 " Then I don t see but what the obligation s 
 
 O 
 
 just where it was. I m glad ye spoke, though ; 
 glad ye would n t take gratitude ye thought 
 did n t b long to ye. My main objection to you, 
 Barris, was your bein so unprincipled ; but I 
 guess you ve got a conscience, though it s con 
 siderable darkened. You Ve shown yourself a 
 man to-night. I mistrusted you had n t much 
 of a heart either ; but when I saw you cryin 
 over that poor little blinded baby tryin to make 
 its dead mother hear, an wipin your eyes on 
 the sly with your fists, not know r in you was 
 leaving a black mark every time oh, ye 
 need n t go rubbin your face ! Bless you, 
 man, you re mud and soot all over, and your 
 coat s bu st down the back. Your own mother 
 would n t know you ! But I guess Rachel will. 
 Come along, come along. You and she will just 
 have to settle your concerns yourselves." 
 
 It does not need telling that this settlement 
 was satisfactory. Only it was embarrassing that 
 
THE DAY OF THE CYCLONE. 215 
 
 the old man would not let him go to the hotel, 
 or give him time for the rudest toilet. 
 
 But Rachel threw her white arms about that 
 dreadful coat with a sob of happiness. 
 
 " And you won t send me away again ? " he 
 whispered. " We are to settle it ourselves, your 
 father says. He and I are great chums. Though 
 I must admit," he added, " it took a cyclone to 
 make us so." 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 " WHAT should we do without you, Jerry ? " 
 said Phillipson, the prosecuting attorney ; " the 
 only murder case on the docket for years, and 
 you have n t been running a week." 
 
 Jerry only smiles a wrinkled kind of smile, 
 pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. Then 
 he and the two men with him watch Phillipson 
 and his companion as they enter the court-house. 
 The companion is a Northerner, a director in 
 the railway which may run through the town. 
 
 Neither poverty nor a grudging spirit is re 
 sponsible that the L County court-house 
 
 is Barker s old all-sorts store. Some years ago 
 lightning destroyed the old court-house, which 
 had a portico and a wide hall and a white 
 cupola, and was the pride of the country-side. 
 Now a brick court-house is rising in its place, 
 an ambitious estray from some Northern archi 
 tect s brain, with Tudor windows and Gothic 
 gables ; and in the interval, Justice balances her 
 scales in Barker s store. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 217 
 
 From the doorway one has a good view of the 
 town. It is an ancient town for Arkansas : in 
 keelboat times it was bustling and prosperous ; 
 but the railroads passed by on the other side, 
 and it fell into a gentle decay. Those old-fash 
 ioned Southern houses, with their modest pomp 
 of column, architrave, and gallery, and those 
 dingy " all-sort stores," the gambrel roofs of 
 which project at each end to shield loiterers 
 from the Arkansas sun, are a kind of high- water 
 mark of the vanished prosperity. But a change 
 has come ; there is talk of a railway ; hence the 
 few smart modern cottages elbowing their gay 
 sides through the pines. Something alien and 
 picturesque mingles everywhere with the South 
 western roughness. Perhaps it is because the 
 narrow streets wind so crookedly up round the 
 hill, or because a rope ferry spans the river 
 below, or because the near hills are checkered 
 with vineyards and wheat-fields, and the far hills 
 have a dark haze of pine, and across the swift 
 green water an old turnpike draws a straight 
 line down a shining avenue of birches, until, 
 swerving suddenly, it is lost in the forest. Over 
 the river are the cotton plantations, the rich 
 black loam where a ploughshare will never be 
 dulled by a stone ; the vast, dim woods of oak 
 and gum ; the canebrake and the cypress swamp. 
 Here the boulders grind through the soil, as 
 
218 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 plentiful as oaths in a river captain s talk, and 
 each farmer tills his own tiny farm. The rail 
 road villages of the bottom have newspaper 
 offices and meat markets, but the old hill coun 
 try county-seat reads its Arkansas " Gazette " 
 once a week, and when a farmer " kills " he 
 hawks his meat from house to house. None the 
 less, however, does the octopus of civilization 
 fling out tentacles into the wilderness : witness 
 the flaming circus-bills, plastered over Jerry 
 Milligan s saloon ; witness indeed the saloon it 
 self, which stands, appropriately, next door to 
 the court-house. 
 
 " Looks smart, don t he ? " remarked one of 
 the men. " Say, he allus wears them lawyer 
 clothes." He spoke, after an admiring glance 
 at the snugly fitting seams of Phillipson s coat 
 and the glossy white rims showing below his 
 black sleeves. " Pore Dock ! " he added, spit 
 ting gloomily at the short-skirted lady on the 
 white horse. " He fell on downright hard luck 
 in his lawyer. Plops round like a chicken with 
 his head cut off every time Phillipson tackles 
 him. Don t guess Dock got much show." 
 
 " Aw, I dunno," said the second man, more 
 cheerfully ; " the jury had orter consider how 
 rilin it s tuh have a feller skin ye out er fifty 
 dollars all the money ye got." 
 
 " He lowed tuh buy a mewl with hit. They 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 219 
 
 all was fixin tuh go tub the cirkiss, an he come 
 yere fust. Feller got everye cent at three cyard 
 monty. Yes, sir. I kin see jes how Dock 
 looked. He sot right thar, an the feller was 
 a-sa nterin down the street easy s you please. 
 Dock was n t r arin on him t all. All the word 
 he sayd was, Lord, whut 11 I say tuh Sis ? : 
 
 "That s his wife, hay?" 
 
 " In co se. Minute I heerd tell bout it I 
 knowed how he be n done, ca se I lost three 
 dollars an fifty cents onct that away. Feller 
 changed the cyards an plum left out the one 
 I bet on ; but Dock s a turrible simple kind er 
 feller, an he never mistrusted tell I tole him." 
 
 " An more s the pity ye ondesaved him," 
 muttered Jerry, 
 
 " How c u d I know he d gether you new 
 gun often the byar an light out that away ? " 
 the other demanded indignantly. 
 
 " An we all ayfter im, hollerin with all the 
 power," said the second witness, with a chuckle. 
 " Did n t he burn the wind, though ! Ketched 
 up tuh the feller fore we got tuh the cote- 
 house. Member how he sayd suthin an the 
 feller slid his hand back tuh his pocket ? Dock 
 war tew briefly fur him, fired fore ye c u d bat 
 you eye. Feller keeled over dead s a hammer. 
 Never seen a purtier shoot." 
 
 " Yes, sir, it was so," agreed Jerry ; " an by 
 
220 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 that same token t is a shame to be sindin him 
 to prison fur a thrifle like that." 
 
 " Say Mis Muckwrath goes tuh the trial ever 
 inornin in the world," Dock s first mourner 
 observed. " That s her now in the blue sun- 
 bonnet, totin the baby, an the tew boys hangin 
 on ahind." 
 
 The woman passed the men, unconscious of 
 the observation. Her short cotton skirts, limp 
 with dew from the grass and the dog-fennel 
 through which she had walked, were flapping 
 against her bare ankles and coarse shoes. The 
 fat baby hung over her shoulder, and beat her 
 thin back with a muddy stick. Evidently the 
 stick was coveted by the younger boy, for he 
 made futile jumps after it while he ran, until 
 greed overreached itself and landed him in a 
 mud - puddle, whence he was dragged by his 
 mother with a shake. The action disclosed her 
 face a narrow, pale, freckled face, with anx 
 ious brown eyes. 
 
 " Thar, Luke, quit you meanness," she cried 
 fretfully. " Take Bud s han an walk quiet, or 
 they all will put ye in jail." 
 
 " I don t keer," the child answered ; " paw s 
 thar ! " 
 
 "O Lordy!" cried the poor woman; "but 
 he 11 come out ; he 11 shore come out ! " 
 
 " Do hush, the pitiful critter ! " muttered the 
 nearest of the witnesses. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 221 
 
 There were other observers of the scene near 
 enough for sight, if not for hearing. First 
 walked the judge, a tall man, carelessly dressed, 
 holding a rose in his mouth. Behind him, the 
 sheriff was conducting the jury from the little 
 hotel to the court-house. They paced along, 
 two by two, Captain Baz Lemew s head tower 
 ing above the soft hats. It was a fine, massive 
 head, covered with curly black hair, that shone 
 like a coal against his white hat-brim. All the 
 Lernews were property - holders, men of sub 
 stance and dignity, Captain Baz in particular 
 owning one of the best plantations on the river. 
 There was a tradition of a wild youth passed 
 away from home ; but years of kind neighbor- 
 liness, and good citizenship, and generous ser 
 vice in the church had so blurred the old rumors 
 that they retained only enough of their erratic 
 outlines to excuse a familiar affection ; Captain 
 Baz he was, not Captain Sebastian Lemew. 
 
 Arm in arm with Captain Baz, the foreman, 
 came Dr. Redden, slim, agile, with keen eyes, 
 and a yellow beard that curled upward at the 
 ends. He had a trick of clutching his beard, 
 and then flinging his palm outward for a ges 
 ture. His loose coat fluttered as he walked, and 
 he swung a branch of dogwood like a cane. The 
 two men following in order were a farmer from 
 the hills, and the shrewdest horse-trader of the 
 bottom. The former was sighing : 
 
222 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 " Hick ry buds all out. Mighty purty cotton- 
 plan tin weather. Bright er the moon, tew." 
 
 " Tew airly," grunted the horse-trader. " April 
 cotton s apt to git the sore shin." 
 
 " Waal, onyhow, I wan t out," declared the 
 farmer, kicking his heavy heels among the bluets 
 that besprinkled the wayside. 
 
 " No, sir," the doctor was saying in a horta 
 tory tone ; " no, sir, on principle I avoid looking 
 at the prisoner s wife. Keally, it s no palliation 
 of his offense that he has got a wretched woman 
 mixed up with his lot ; yet that s the way people 
 argue." 
 
 " There she is," said Captain Baz ; " the wo 
 man in front. I know her ; Muckwrath is one 
 of my renters." 1 
 
 The doctor s eyelids dropped, and a flash like 
 the flash of a knife-blade stole out of the half- 
 shut eyes. Every other juror s position he could 
 gauge to a nicety ; but the workings of Captain 
 Baz s mind were, so to speak, under water, and 
 left no trail. 
 
 Now, Dr. Redden desired a conviction ar 
 dently. His motives were the cleanest in the 
 world. Of the new South himself, he believed 
 in immigration, enterprise, and their natural 
 promoters, law and order. His zeal was fanned 
 by a pigmy breeze of opposition from one or two 
 1 Tenants. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 223 
 
 in the jury. So was his vanity. Dr. Redden 
 plumed himself on his deft handling of preju 
 dices ; here was a chance for tact. But Captain 
 Baz where did he stand? What was he 
 studying at this minute, for instance ? He had 
 turned round on the court-house steps for the 
 little procession had reached the door and was 
 gazing absently at river and fields. The land 
 scape had the lovely freshness of morning and 
 spring. Drops of rain glittered in the water- 
 oak leaves, the roses in the gardens wore a richer 
 pink for last night s shower ; even the furrow- 
 slices and the blunted edges of the cotton-hills 
 were dyed a deeper tone of brown. 
 
 " I love this country," said Captain Baz ; but 
 it appeared more to himself than to the doctor. 
 " I was born and raised here. I should hate 
 terribly " Then he stopped. 
 
 " Come on, gentlemen," called the sheriff, 
 jocosely. " Mr. Phillipson won t want to speak 
 without you." 
 
 Entering the court-room on a warm morning 
 such a morning as that which saw the con 
 clusion of the case of the State of Arkansas vs. 
 Muckwrath the first impression is of cool 
 dampness. The room is long and scantily 
 lighted, unplastered and unpainted. The au 
 thorities have removed, as unseemly, the rosy 
 damsels who lent their charming presence to 
 
224 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 praises of starch and baking-powder, but the 
 public is still informed by three-foot letters on 
 the joists that " Oliver Chilled Ploughs are the 
 Best ! " and still can read a small placard spared 
 by the hand of reform, perhaps for its whole 
 some moral, affirming that if you pay as you 
 go, then you won t owe. Decorations of a more 
 legal cast are not lacking ; from estray notices, 
 advertisements of sheriff s sales and delinquent 
 tax lists, to embossments of tobacco quids and 
 gum. The lawyers sit around a rude pine table, 
 the judge presides in a pine armchair, and there 
 are chairs without arms for the officers of the 
 court ; the rest of the world must content itself 
 with benches. There is a fiction of inclosing 
 the prisoner according to the venerable usage, 
 an uncertain structure of fence palings guarding 
 his chair, and giving him infinite trouble if the 
 habit of a lifetime assert itself and his heels 
 swing up to the top. 
 
 This morning the room was crowded, for it 
 was known that Phillipson was to conclude his 
 argument, and he had a reputation as an orator, 
 to which, rather than to the intrinsic attraction 
 of the case, was due a sprinkling of the gentry 
 of the region among the shirt-sleeves and sun- 
 bonnets. Immediately after the court was opened 
 Phillipson rose. He had a fascinating voice 
 sonorous, musical, flexible. Convinced of the 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 225 
 
 prisoner s guilt, he spoke with magnetic fervor. 
 The jury were palpably impressed, while the 
 prisoner s pale wife grew paler, and the prisoner 
 nervously chewed gum. He was a tall man and 
 well built, although this was concealed by his 
 ungainly posture, crouched over the fence-rail 
 ing, his feet squeezed between the palings, his 
 elbows on his knees. His long, curling auburn 
 hair fell over his collar. His eyes were bright 
 violet in tint and of a very gentle expression. 
 His face was of a type common in Arkansas 
 among the renters, where the loosely hung mouth 
 will often seem to contradict fine brows, straight 
 noses, and shapely heads. One could see that 
 he was wearing his poor best in clothes, namely, 
 a new ill-fitting brown coat, blue trousers, rub 
 ber boots, and a white shirt with a brass collar- 
 button but no necktie. 
 
 When the lawyer pictured in glowing meta 
 phors and more glowing statistics the incompar 
 able natural gifts of Arkansas, her genial cli 
 mate, her wonderful forests, her rich mines and 
 richer soil, her mountains and rivers and healing 
 springs, the prisoner listened with an air of relief 
 and interest. When Phillipson, on tiptoe, swung 
 his fist and shouted that the Black River coun 
 try was " the best poor man s country in the 
 world," he nodded cordially " That s so ! " to the 
 deputy at his side, adding, " Looks like he ar 
 
226 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 lettin up on me an talkin bout the craps." 
 But in a second his expansive manner collapsed ; 
 his jaw fell, and he leaned over the palings, his 
 lean fingers gripping them hard. Phillipson was 
 demanding why a State so beautiful, so fertile, 
 so attractive to every clas^ of emigrants, is neg 
 lected. 
 
 44 Why is it, gentlemen ? " cried the lawyer, 
 waving his white hands at the jury. " I will 
 tell you. It is because the old taint of blood 
 and crime clings to our garments still. Years 
 ago Arkansas in very truth was a dark and 
 bloody ground. Murder stalked unpunished 
 through our smiling cotton-fields and noble for 
 ests. All that is past. To-day every one of 
 you knows, gentlemen, that there is not in all 
 this broad land a more peaceful, law-abiding sec 
 tion than ours, or a section with better enforced 
 laws. But people in other States are only just 
 beginning to realize this. Strangers hesitate to 
 bring their families and settle among us. They 
 wait even now, even here, to come among us, 
 willing and able to pour their thousands into 
 our industries, or to link us with iron bands to 
 the great heart of commerce and civilization 
 which throbs outside." There was a general 
 turning of heads at the Northerner. " They wait. 
 What for ? To learn that life and property will 
 be respected by you ! Gentlemen of the jury, 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 227 
 
 the honor of the State of Arkansas rests in your 
 hands. The dead man was a stranger. He was 
 not a good man. But the law extends the au 
 gust segis of her protection even as the rain is 
 shed over the just and the unjust. You are not 
 to consider his character, but only the question, 
 Has he been wronged ? You cannot afford, gen 
 tlemen we cannot afford to let the word go 
 forth to the world that Arkansas does not punish 
 murder." He sat down amid a grateful rustle 
 of applause and many admiring smiles from the 
 ladies in the crowd. 
 
 The judge, who had pulled a heap of papers 
 towards him, took the rose out of his mouth and 
 began to read the charge. Captain Baz was lis 
 tening with frowning attention ; the other jurors 
 had been cheered by a bag of peanuts handed 
 up by the amiable deputy in charge. The pris 
 oner was leaning back with folded arms and an 
 expression of eager interest. The judge stated 
 the charge against the prisoner and gave the 
 usual exposition of the law and the usual defini 
 tions. He spoke in a slow, gentle voice, and the 
 Northerner s admiration was excited by his lu 
 minous and infinitely patient explanations. In 
 deed, he was so clear that the prisoner himself 
 could follow him, after a grotesque and dazed 
 fashion, tripping now and then over the legal 
 verbiage, but recovering himself at every famil- 
 
228 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 iar phrase. He listened to the definition of 
 murder in the first degree with indignant agita 
 tion. " All murder which shall be perpetrated 
 by means of poison or by lying in wait " 
 So far had the judge gone before Muckwrath 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, Judge, I never seen the man afore, 
 an iz fur layin in wait an fixin tuh pizen, I 
 w u d n t do sicher meanness " 
 
 " Shet up ! " whispered the deputy. " He s 
 readin what you did n t done." 
 
 Muckwrath sank back, relieved, to tap his 
 palings with a virtuous finger at every adjec 
 tive of the " willful, deliberate, malicious, and 
 premeditated killing" described in the statute, 
 and every felony enumerated, " in the perpetra 
 tion of, or in the attempt to perpetrate " which, 
 " the killing shall be committed." But his 
 countenance darkened at the explanation of mur 
 der in the second degree and grew more anxious 
 at the definition of manslaughter, " the unlawful 
 killing of a human being without malice, express 
 or implied, and without deliberation." But he 
 glanced across to where his wife sat with re 
 newed cheerfulness as the judge passed on to 
 justifiable homicide, since here it was that his 
 counsel had made his boldest stand on the right 
 of the defendant to retake his property by force. 
 Muckwrath actually smiled as the judge read : 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 229 
 
 " Section 1279 defines justifiable homicide as 
 follows : 4 Justifiable homicide is the killing of a 
 human being in necessary self-defense, or in the 
 defense of habitation, person, or property against 
 one who manifestly intends or endeavors by vio 
 lence or surprise to commit a known felony. " 
 
 The smile, however, faded quickly at the 
 judge s comment : " But, gentlemen of the jury, 
 where it is sought to justify the killing under 
 this statute, the killing must be to prevent 
 threatened injury to property or the taking 
 thereof by violence or surprise, and no more force 
 must be used than is reasonably necessary. The 
 statute, has no application to cases of killing 
 when the deceased has obtained peaceful posses 
 sion of the property of the slayer by fraud or 
 trickery, without force or surprise " 
 
 " My word ! " cried the prisoner, leaping ex 
 citedly to his feet, " t was surprise. I hain t 
 had nare sich surprise in my life like I got 
 when I seen them kyards. They be n plumb 
 changed up " 
 
 The deputy pushed him back into his seat, 
 amid a sympathetic laugh from the audience. 
 " And is slain while in possession of the prop 
 erty so obtained," concluded the judge, who 
 then passed on to the duty incumbent on the 
 State of proving the defendant guilty beyond a 
 reasonable doubt, with the explanation of a rea- 
 
230 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 sonable doubt. To all this the jury listened with 
 an air of patient bewilderment, excepting only 
 Dr. Redden, an image of the appreciative lis 
 tener, and an old man in an extraordinarily 
 frayed and rusty black coat, who was sunk into 
 unobtrusive slumber behind a palm-leaf fan. 
 He awakened in time for the peroration, erecting 
 his head and inflating his chest in a dignified 
 manner, as one who had been following the 
 argument closely all along, let appearances be 
 what they might. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury," said the mild, de 
 liberate voice, " if you find from the evidence, 
 beyond a reasonable doubt, that the defendant 
 and the deceased were engaged in a game of cards 
 
 in Jeremiah T. Milligan s saloon in said L 
 
 County, and State of Arkansas, and that the 
 deceased had, in a game of cards, by cheating or 
 otherwise, won money of the defendant, and had 
 left said saloon ; and that the defendant was in 
 formed as soon as the deceased left that he had 
 been cheated " 
 
 " Yes, sir, so I was," said the prisoner. His 
 attorney, amid various winks and smiles from the 
 lawyers, bent a very red face close to his ear. 
 The prisoner pursed his lips for an inaudible 
 whistle, then nodded. 
 
 " And thereupon," the judge continued, " in 
 a fit of passion, he snatched up a revolver from 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 231 
 
 the bar, with the intention of killing or doing 
 great bodily injury to the deceased, and with 
 out time for reflection pursued and shot the de 
 ceased on sight, you will then, and in that case, 
 find him guilty of murder in the second degree. 
 The fact, if you shall find it to be a fact, that the 
 deceased attempted to draw a revolver, would 
 not excuse the killing, or turn the offense from 
 murder in the second degree to manslaughter. 
 But if you shall find from the evidence that the 
 deceased obtained the defendant s money as be 
 fore stated, and that the defendant, upon being 
 informed that he had been cheated, was seized 
 with a udden passion and snatched the revolver 
 and pursued the deceased without any intention 
 of killing the deceased, but with the intention 
 of using threats to make the deceased return 
 the said money, intending also to use the re 
 volver in case he might thereby become involved 
 in a fight with the deceased and need the same 
 to protect himself " (here the prisoner made an 
 expressive pantomime of assent to the deputy) ; 
 " and if you also find that while thus excited, 
 and while acting pursuant to this intention, 
 he overtook the deceased and the deceased 
 attempted to draw a revolver to shoot the de 
 fendant, and thereupon the defendant, in the 
 excitement and in fear of his life" (" Jesso," 
 cried Muckwrath, unable to keep still), "shot 
 
232 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 and killed the deceased, then, and in that event, 
 you will find the defendant guilty of manslaugh 
 ter " (" O Lordy ! " gasped the prisoner), " and 
 fix the penalty accordingly. The defendant s 
 counsel has asked for the following instruction, 
 which is given, with some modifications : If you 
 find from the evidence that the deceased was a 
 man of violent .disposition and dangerous char 
 acter, prone to shoot quickly and without provoca 
 tion, and that the defendant was informed of this 
 dangerous disposition on the part of the deceased 
 prior to the killing, and that the deceased swin 
 dled the dafendant out of fifty dollars at three- 
 card monte in Jeremiah T. Milligan s saloon, on 
 the third day of April, 1888, and that thereupon 
 the defendant, being told that he had been 
 cheated, got up to follow the deceased to demand 
 back his money, without any intention of doing 
 any injury to the deceased, or of making any 
 threats of so doing, and that defendant, having in 
 mind the dangerous disposition of the deceased, 
 picked up and took with him a revolver which was 
 lying on the bar, intending to use the same in case 
 of necessary self-defense " (a grin at what to 
 such an audience seemed broad irony, spread from 
 face to face) ; u and if you further find that 
 when the defendant overtook the deceased the de 
 ceased attempted to draw a revolver, and thereby 
 the defendant was placed in danger of his life or 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 233 
 
 limb, and, while acting under the belief that it 
 was necessary to shoot to save himself, did so 
 shoot and killed the deceased then the homi 
 cide was justifiable, and you will find the de 
 fendant not guilty." 
 
 But at this point the prisoner s baby lifted 
 up her voice in a dismal clamor. Vainly the 
 mother tried to hush the child ; the prisoner 
 called out, " Gimme the little trick, Sis ; she jes 
 wants to get tuh me ; " the sheriff commanded 
 " Silence in the court ! " and the audience tit 
 tered ; all of which rather drowned the judge s 
 voice, charging the jury to lay aside all fear, 
 prejudice, or favor, and render a verdict con 
 sistent with the law and the evidence and in har 
 mony with their oath. 
 
 The jury themselves were generally absorbed 
 in Mrs. Muckwrath s tussle with her baby and 
 the infant s final consolation by a stick of candy, 
 handed over the heads of the audience from 
 some unknown donor. By the time the stir had 
 subsided, the friendly deputy was whispering : 
 
 " You all got to go now." 
 
 The Northerner watched them as they were 
 conducted through the side-door to their room, 
 or, to be accurate, their shed. Up to this mo 
 ment the grotesque surroundings and the pris 
 oner s antics had made him forget that this 
 rough -handed justice was weighing a fellow- 
 creature s life. Now he remembered. 
 
234 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 Phillipson was speaking : " Yes, sir, the charge 
 was favorable. Splendid charge. Clear, straight 
 to the point." 
 
 " You 11 get a verdict if the jury have n t got 
 on to the Coal Hill horror," said the gray-haired 
 lawyer. " Redden is for you, and he s a stir- 
 ring fellow." 
 
 The Northerner looked from the man behind 
 the palings to the woman, whose eyes were fixed 
 on him while she hugged her baby tighter. 
 Then he asked, " What kind of convict-camps 
 do you have in this State ? " 
 
 " All kinds," replied Phillipson, testily. 
 
 The jury had taken various easy attitudes 
 about their table, but they all looked serious. 
 
 Captain Baz s mild, bright, dark eyes went 
 from one face to another in a glance that was 
 keen without ceasing to be gentle. He settled 
 his large frame back in his chair and softly 
 fanned himself; quite a typical figure of a 
 planter sitting there, with his dainty linen, and 
 cool pongee coat, and the old-fashioned dia 
 mond-pin in his blue neck-scarf. It was an 
 attractive face also which rested on his hand 
 such a face as a lonely woman would turn to con 
 fidingly, though she saw it for the first time ; a 
 kind, frank, strong face, handsome in spite of 
 the long scar marking one tanned cheek. 
 
 \ 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 235 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Captain Baz, " perhaps 
 we shall gain time by talking this business over 
 a little before we take a ballot." 
 
 Speaking for the others, the doctor assented. 
 For his part, he said, he believed that the pris 
 oner ought to be punished. Why did n t he get 
 the constable to arrest the man ? It was this 
 habit of trying to right our own wrongs when 
 the law stood ready to right them for us that 
 had given the country an ill name. Phillipson 
 was right ; it discouraged immigration. He had 
 seen Mr. Thornton (the Northerner) in court. 
 They all knew he was fixing to build a canning 
 factory. Was he likely to do that if they con 
 vinced him that any of his men could get mad 
 and pop away at him with a gun, sure of getting 
 off ? It looked like they might lose their fac 
 tory, may be their railroad, if they monkeyed 
 with the verdict. Let them remember their 
 oaths and the law ; that was all he asked. 
 
 The next speaker, who kept an " all-sorts 
 store " at the cross-roads, agreed with the doc 
 tor. So did half a dozen others. Their natural 
 sympathy with a defrauded neighbor was offset 
 by the composite motive of self-interest and pub 
 lic spirit to which the doctor had appealed. As 
 the storekeeper expressed it, they all could n t 
 afford to scare off factories and railroads just to 
 pull Dock out of a hole. 
 
236 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 The horse-trader was for a verdict of murder 
 in the second degree, on general principles of 
 rigor towards " folks that squealed." 
 
 " What in thunder is Dock r arin and chargin 
 bout onyhow ? " cried he. " If he got skinned 
 up, war n t he tryin tuh skin t other feller ? 
 T ain t noways shore, neither, that the cyards 
 war n t thro wed fair. Them fellers kin juggle 
 the cyards roun so ye cayn t tell Ham from 
 Japhet. Dad gum me, I los twenty dollars my 
 self oncet. But do ye reckon I pulled out my 
 gun and killed the cuss ? Naw, sir. I guv im 
 five dollars tuh show me how the trick be n 
 done. An he done so. But, law me, I mout 
 try tell I was wore to a frazzle, I cud n t ketch 
 up with it ! " 
 
 " I lowed they all allus cheated," said a 
 young rustic whose mouth hung ajar as natu 
 rally as a door without a latch. " Ef Dock ain t 
 be n cheated that makes a heap er differ. I 
 don t guess we d orter let im go. Hay, Mr. 
 Hogard ? " He addressed the shabby man in 
 the black coat, who might be called a profes 
 sional juror, being one of those court -room 
 hangers-on always ready to the sheriff s hand 
 either for jurors or talesmen. Apparently oc 
 cupied in spelling out the judge s charge, he 
 merely shook his head. Keally, he was waiting 
 until he could discover the drift of opinion, in 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 237 
 
 order to join the minority,, thereby protracting 
 the session and enlarging the fees. 
 
 His right-hand neighbor, a young farmer from 
 the bottom, spoke up quickly : " I don t see no 
 differ if they cheat with their fingers or their 
 cyards. I observe they git thar jes the same. 
 Onyhow, Dock, he lowed he b en cheated ; an 
 t other feller drawed on im " 
 
 44 Drawed on him ! " interrupted the horse- 
 trader, with sardonic emphasis. " By gum, who 
 would n t draw on a feller runnin at ye with a 
 gun?" 
 
 " Waal, I don t keer," said the farmer, dog 
 gedly. " I ve knovved Dock risin er twenty 
 year, an I ain t goin tuh send him tuh be beat 
 an pounded in them conviot-camps." 
 
 " Now ye talk," said the farmer, who wanted 
 to get home ; " but what fur did he kill the fel 
 ler ? Why cud n t he of given him the bud l 
 an taken the money back ? " 
 
 " Did get his money back," said another juror, 
 the blacksmith on Captain Baz s plantation ; 
 " taken it out of the dead man s pockets, right 
 thar. Must a had a anxious notion er gettiii 
 that money back, shore. Say, did n t no kin er 
 the feller ever turn up ? " 
 
 He was answered by the old juror, who pushed 
 
 1 " To give the bud " or " to give the hickory " is Arkansas 
 for to thrash. 
 
238 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 a loose pile on the table towards him, saying : 
 " Nary. Nothin foun on the person er the de 
 ceased neether, cept this truck handkerchief, 
 watch-chain thout nare watch, revolver, wallet, 
 Hot Springs cyar tickets, two packs er kyards, 
 an fifty cents." 
 
 The jurors, except Captain Baz, fingered the 
 articles with much gravity, and scrutinized them 
 as carefully as if they held some occult evidence 
 of Dock Muckwrath s guilt or innocence. 
 
 The old juror brought them back to the ques 
 tion. 
 
 "Dock s lawyer," he modestly suggested, 
 "made a right smart outer Dock s right tuh 
 take back his property. Jedge rtither favored 
 him thar,. I consider." 
 
 "I wisht you all cud fix up suthin this 
 mornin ," said the young farmer. " I m right 
 anxious to git to go to Little Eock to-night, 
 an thar s a long way to ride to the railroad 
 from my place." 
 
 " What ye say tun manslaughter, then, Bald 
 win," said the old farmer, " an let him off easy s 
 we kin?" 
 
 " That s two year," said the old juror, always 
 strong on the minor points of law ; " we all fix 
 the penalty. Two to seven years." 
 
 " Say, the Knights Templar p rade tun-night," 
 said the blacksmith. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 239 
 
 " Splendid parade, I hear, it s going to be, 
 too," the doctor remarked, with his knife-like 
 side-glance at Baldwin. " Miss Morkin and a 
 lot of our folks are going." 
 
 Miss Morkin was the pretty girl whom Bald 
 win was only too anxious to please. He ap 
 pealed with a kind of harassed gasp to Captain 
 Baz : " I 11 teU you what I cayn t stand. They 
 tell terrible things bout the prisons. Say, 
 what s your notion, cap n ? " 
 
 The doctor, who had the medical eye for com 
 plexion, observed that Captain Baz was certainly 
 very pale. " My opinion, sir," said the captain, 
 slowly, " is that, in the present state of convicts 
 in Arkansas, if you don t find the man not guilty 
 you had better find him guilty enough to be 
 hanged." 
 
 "By gum," muttered the blacksmith, "that 
 are a way ter put it ! " 
 
 The doctor s eyes brightened, a sure sign with 
 him of rising combativeness. " Do you say that 
 because you have been reading the horrors in 
 the newspapers ? " 
 
 " No, sir," the reply came very quietly, 
 " I say it from personal experience." 
 
 For once the doctor s wits failed him, but he 
 flinched from his first idea. " You were a 
 an inspector, a warden," he said huskily. 
 
 " No, sir," said Captain Baz, as quietly as be 
 fore ; " I was a convict." 
 
240 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 " Lord A mighty ! " cried young Baldwin, and 
 was instantly red with shame over his indeco 
 rum. 
 
 The horse-trader, not so sensitive, declared, 
 " Waal, I bet t war n t from no meanness, ony- 
 how!" 
 
 The other jurors exchanged furtive glances, 
 while Dr. Kedden took shelter in a handker 
 chief and elaborately wiped his face. 
 
 " P raps," this was the shopkeeper s best 
 mercantile voice, " p raps, bein like you in- 
 terjuced the subjeck, cap n, you w u d tell us 
 some more." 
 
 Captain Baz had been watching their con 
 fusion, smiling a little bitterly. It seemed to 
 Captain Baz that already they began to wonder 
 over him and look down on him. 
 
 " Naturally," said he, " I did n t speak just 
 for the fun of the thing. I had a purpose. I 
 want you to know the kind of punishment you 
 are proposing to give our old neighbor. Well, 
 gentlemen, this was the way of it : I was a wild 
 young man running a cotton-boat, and Owens, 
 my partner, sent me to Little Rock on business. 
 I was young and foot-loose, and I went straight 
 into mischief; got into a gambling-den and a 
 fight before sundown : a man was killed. Of 
 course he was a promising citizen with a ter 
 rible sight of kin. I am tolerably sure that I 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 241 
 
 did n t touch the fellow, but I was the only man 
 there too drunk to run away ; so they caught me 
 and tried me, and the upshot was I got three 
 years. In point of fact, gentlemen, I have no 
 legal right to sit on this jury, being a convicted 
 felon. However, it was not Sebastian Lemew 
 who put on stripes, but Thomas Jones. I was 
 so ashamed of my being such a blamed fool that 
 I fixed it up with Owens to keep the business 
 from my folks. They sent me, with a dozen 
 other fellows, in a cattle-car to Arkansas River, 
 to make a corduroy-road. There that is what 
 I am going to tell you. I have been quiet for 
 so long on account of my wife. She hated to 
 have me pointed at as having been to the peni 
 tentiary. That s all right ; women think a heap 
 of such things ; but I can t keep quiet any 
 longer." 
 
 u I kin tell you one thing, cap n," cried Bald 
 win, " nobody 11 ever be the wiser for me ! " 
 
 " Nur me," the old juror echoed. 
 
 " I say, t war all a blamed shame ! " said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " You must act your pleasure about that, gen 
 tlemen," said Captain Baz ; but a little of the 
 color returned to his face. " I was saying they 
 sent me off ; I went off with a rough crowd. 
 However, there was one gentleman among them. 
 4 Radcliffe, he called himself. I never saw him 
 
242 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 again, nor I don t know his real name ; but he 
 did me a good turn with his information. He 
 told me, what I found was true, that the whole 
 convict system is a money-making affair. They 
 are ail on the make. The board, commissioners, 
 contractors, lessees, wardens, and guards, they 
 all just naturally squeeze the convict. He s let 
 and sublet, and every man has to make some 
 thing out of him each time. What do the les 
 sees care if they work a man to death in the 
 camps ? They can get plenty more. It is for 
 their interest to underfeed the men and not 
 clothe them or give them medicines or decent 
 human treatment any way. The real man in 
 charge is the warden, and he has practically un 
 limited power. All the lessee asks of him is to 
 get work out of the men. They are mostly tri 
 fling, shirking fellows, and to make them work 
 he has to punish them ; so he gets to crowding 
 the punishment on. Wardens and guards are 
 apt to be a brutal lot first-class men don t 
 want such a job. But the meanest feature of 
 the whole business is its discrimination. It is a 
 fact, gentlemen, as our prison laws stand now 
 the rich man can do almost anything*. Suppose 
 a jury does its duty, and sends a rich criminal 
 to the penitentiary, what then ? Why, his 
 friends hire him out, and he lives at his ease. 
 Radcliffe told me of a large number of convicts 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 243 
 
 hired out that way ; his uncle was going to hire 
 him to work on his plantation. And do you 
 reckon I 11 work too hard ? said he. No, sir ; 
 I 11 ride round like a gentleman, and in my own 
 
 clothes, too, by . He told me about our 
 
 warden. He seemed to know all about him, and 
 I m bound to say his information always turned 
 out correct. Captain Moss, our warden, was an 
 Alabama man. He killed two men down there 
 before he came to Arkansas ; but he had influ 
 ential friends, and the matter was hushed up 
 some way. They need dare-devil fellows in a 
 convict-camp, so Moss got the job. Radcliffe 
 said he was rather a quiet fellow when sober, 
 but the devil and any when drunk. Radcliffe 
 advised me to bribe him by giving him my 
 money that came to me to spend. He 11 take 
 out his commission, don t fear, says he. If 
 you ve got money, you re all right. But God 
 help the poor man in a convict-camp ! You 
 may imagine, gentlemen, that such a talk as this 
 did n t cheer me up much. But the reality was 
 worse. 
 
 " We got to our place at sundown, and had 
 to walk four miles from the railroad through 
 the swamp. The camp was in a cypress slash. 
 You could cut the miasma with a knife. But 
 what did it matter how unhealthy the place was ? 
 You know what the cypress slashes are. Our 
 
244 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 shed was on a kind of ridge. Higher up from 
 the river there were some houses built a cook 
 house, and storehouse, and house for the warden 
 in charge. The shed we had was, I should say, 
 sixteen by twenty feet, and there were thirty- 
 three men packed into it. It was worse built 
 than any of these old cabins which we all think 
 ain t good enough for steady living in, and give 
 up to the cotton-pickers. A few of the meanest, 
 dirtiest mattresses you ever saw were lying on 
 the floor. Not enough of these, even, for half 
 the men. The others had a blanket and slept 
 on the floor. The cracks in that floor I do 
 assure you they were bigger than my arm ! Of 
 course, the shed was simply stood up on four 
 cypress stumps over the mud, and it had settled 
 lop-sided. The roof had no shingles, nothing 
 but scantling ; and when it rained it leaked 
 worse than the famous roof of the Arkansas 
 traveler. Puddles of water were standing on 
 the mattresses and the blankets ; and with the 
 flicker of the lamps screwed to the wall, and an 
 awful kind of steam rising up from the swamp, 
 and the chains everywhere, they always 
 chained us at night, you understand, and the 
 miserable black and white faces all huddled to 
 gether, oh, it was a hard sight ! The men s 
 rags were dropping off them. Not a man among 
 them had a decent pair of shoes. They never 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 245 
 
 were washed or changed up, and some of them 
 had been in camp two months. And while I 
 stood in that hole, half faint, like a flash I seemed 
 to see my room at home, and the clean, white 
 curtains, and the big tin tub I had for washing, 
 and my mother s and the girls pictures on the 
 walls, and my father s sword hanging over the 
 glass, and the honeysuckle outside swinging 
 it turned me dizzy. Just then the dogs outside 
 began to howl. 4 Somebody s lit out, said the 
 guard. 4 Here, get along, 49, 1 got to go ; thar s 
 you place/ Such a place a space between 
 two convicts, and next to it a poor fellow crum 
 pled all in a heap, with his shirt cut into ribbons 
 and his back the awfulest sight ! He lay right 
 under the lamp. I can see the way his hands 
 dropped down as if they would drop off his 
 wrists, and the sharp look of his nose and chin. 
 Somebody had dipped a hand down through an 
 extra big crack and plastered him with mud to 
 ease the smarting. I can assure you all," Cap 
 tain Baz added, with a very grim and queer 
 smile, " it helps a heap. The fellow was hardly- 
 more than a boy, and had a right innocent, piti 
 ful kind of face. As soon as the guard was 
 gone, I asked the man who had put the mud on, 
 you could see the mud in his hand, that s 
 how I knew, I asked him what was the mat 
 ter. He was a villainous-looking fellow, looked 
 
246 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 like he had some nigger in him. He was No. 28, 
 but the boys all called him Chuckey. Chuckey 
 gave me a scowl, and said, 4 Got a lickinV 
 Then I saw him shove his own blanket, which 
 he d rolled up, under the poor fellow s head. 
 So I helped him, and the poor fellow looked up 
 and thanked me. Gentlemen, it was sort of 
 awful to be thanked in that place ; it stirred me 
 all up. While I was trying to find out more, 
 the guard came with my supper. Radcliffe 
 had been telling some tall stories about me to 
 the warden, I reckon. Well, I was powerful 
 hungry, for they had skipped our dinner, so I 
 did n t look too closely at the salt pork and corn 
 pone, and was fixing to drink my coffee when I 
 observed that the poor fellow who had been 
 licked was staring at me with a terribly ravenous 
 sort of look, 
 
 " Instinctively, I suspect, I broke the bread 
 into two pieces, a big piece for me and the 
 smallest piece for him, because I was so hun 
 gry I was mean, but, somehow, when I looked 
 up to pass it, and saw his miserably pinched 
 face, I gave him the biggest piece instead, and 
 tore off some of the meat too. 
 
 " Chuckey scowled at me in his way, and said, 
 4 He s plumb starved ; hain t had nuthin sense 
 yestiddy inorninV Poor Slowfoot ! " 
 
 " Was that what they called him ? " asked 
 the blacksmith. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 247 
 
 "Yes, sir. He had something the matter 
 with his ankle. The bone was hurt, and it hurt 
 him to walk. Many a time Moss beat him for 
 not getting about lively enough as he called 
 
 it." 
 
 " Probably necrosis," muttered the doctor. 
 
 " I asked Chuckey if we got enough to eat. 
 He said yes, usually, but mighty poor stuff 
 bread, meat, and pease. No variety, of course, 
 and the cooking not half-way decent. The man 
 who leased us did n t care no more for us than 
 for so many pigs. We all were always chilling, 
 but that made no difference ; we had to work 
 just the same. I did n t fare as badly as some, 
 thanks to Radcliffe s talking and the money that 
 I got from Owens. The next morning I saw 
 the warden. I m not likely to forget how he 
 looked. We were all hustled out at sun-up, and 
 set to work laying the logs in the swamp. The 
 man who walked by me was a strange-looking 
 fellow. I make no doubt he was a bit off in his 
 head ; anyway, we all called him Looney. He 
 was there because he walked into a Little Rock 
 restaurant, got a dinner, and then said he had n t 
 any money. The proprietor had him arrested, 
 and he was sent to the penitentiary. So he 
 got into our camp. They said that he was so 
 banged about and ill-treated that it had run 
 him distracted. One thing about his looks I 
 
248 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 remember. He had a very large head, and kept 
 wagging it about and talking to himself. The 
 guard who had us that morning was Todd Bax 
 ter. He was a very clever fellow, too, when he 
 could keep away from liquor. This poor Looney, 
 by and by, lay down on a log and said he 
 would n t work. Todd was coaxing and threat 
 ening when Moss came up, pretty full. He rode 
 a good horse, and was, I suppose, what you 
 would call a handsome man. He was fond of 
 dress, and a great ladies man. Oh, I can tell 
 you his clothes were changed often enough. He 
 had a palish face, the eyes were always a little 
 red at the rims, the face clean shaved except a 
 mustache, and he had brown curly hair, and al 
 ways wore some kind of perfumery. Well, he 
 needed it in that place. The instant he saw 
 Looney he was off his horse, swearing. 4 1 ain t 
 going to work, said Looney ; I m sick. 
 
 " I know your kind of sick mighty well, 
 says Moss. * Git up, or it will be the worse for 
 you. 
 
 " When Looney would n t get up, he and an 
 other guard, by the name of Forbes, tied Looney 
 to a gum-tree by strips of pawpaw bark like 
 the niggers make reins out of, you know, and 
 lashed him with ox-whips. I told Moss, as re 
 spectfully as I could, that I believed the man 
 was crazy. He knocked me down. Well, gen- 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 249 
 
 tlemen, some things are too horrible to be de 
 scribed, though they are not too horrible for 
 poor souls to suffer. Moss swore he d conquer 
 Looney, if he had to kill him. He did n t con 
 quer him, though you could hear his screeches 
 clear across the slash. But he would n t work. 
 By and by Todd interfered ; they took him 
 home, and Todd put him in his own bed, and he 
 died there. That night " 
 
 The horse-trader struck the table a sounding 
 blow with his fist. " The bloody tyke ! " he 
 cried. " What did they do to him ? " 
 
 "Nothing," said Captain Baz. 
 
 " Don t you reckon he was ha nted ? " said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " Not he," said Captain Baz ; " if he had been 
 that kind of man, the poor fellows he killed in 
 Alabama would have haunted him. Yet it is 
 hard saying what such a man feels ; it is possi 
 ble one reason for his sprees was a bad con 
 science. But to all appearance he went on as 
 wicked and careless as ever. He shoved poor 
 Looney into the river and went about with his 
 whip slashing at us just the same. Gentlemen, 
 I can t give you any idea what an incarnate 
 devil he could be. To this day I sometimes 
 wake up yelling and cursing, dreaming that I 
 am back in that hell. To show you the mean 
 ness of the man : there was a poor boy there, 
 
250 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 and his mother sent him a pair of rubber boots 
 and a letter. Todd told me about it ; that s 
 how I know. She d gone picking cotton to earn 
 the money. She knew it was in the bottom 
 lands, and she sent the boots, begging the war 
 den to let her boy have them. Mind you, too, 
 the poor boy was chilling at the time. Do you 
 reckon Moss gave him the boots ? Not a bit of 
 it ; he sold them to one of the guards for three 
 dollars. That s the kind of man he was. Yet 
 since his meanness procured me most of my own 
 privileges, I have reason to thank it, Owens 
 sent me money, and he took it ; but he made me 
 a trusty, 1 and out of fifty dollars I got a straw 
 hat and a pair of second-hand horse-blankets, 
 and sometimes an extra bite of something which 
 I could share with Slowfoot. He was schemy, 
 too. He let me go to the river and wash. I 
 had pretty good clothes, and he would send me 
 to the settlement on errands. Usually Todd 
 went with me. Then folks would look at me, 
 decently clothed, clean, and all that, and they 
 would say : Must be lies bout the convicts be 
 ing so abused. Look at that trusty ! Which 
 was exactly what Moss aimed to have them 
 think. Oh, he was powerful schemy ! But I 
 was schemy too. That s how I got out. There 
 
 1 The better behaved and more trustworthy convicts are 
 called " trusties," and have certain privileges. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 251 
 
 was a new inspector, who lived on the yon side 
 of the river and had a big plantation. Most of 
 the inspectors had been so deviled and con 
 jured by the commissioners and by Moss that, 
 no matter what yarn he told them, they d grease 
 its head and swallow it whole. But this gentle 
 man was sharp. He made some trouble about 
 Looney, but he could n t get to find out any 
 thing. Well, I stole some brown wrapping-paper 
 and borrowed a pencil from Todd, pretending to 
 need it to show him a trick at cyards." 
 
 "I don t guess ye got time to 1 arn it to 
 we all," said the horse - trader, insinuatingly ; 
 " t would make the story sorter plainer." 
 
 " Oh, the story does n t need it," said Captain 
 Baz. "The point was, I needed a lead-pencil 
 to explain, and I just naturally lost the lead- 
 pencil dropped it, or a stick, spang into the 
 mud. Then very cautiously, at odd minutes, I 
 wrote on that paper to the new inspector to 
 come and see how we were treated. The next 
 thing was to get the paper to the inspector. 
 That came by accident. I was sent to town 
 with a guard to get some flour. The guard was 
 in the store and I sat outside holding the horses. 
 No show of running, for he had his gun. While 
 I sat there trying to study out a plan to speak 
 to somebody anybody and fairly wild with 
 thinking, two young ladies came riding up. 
 
252 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 By luck no, by God s mercy one of them 
 was the inspector s sister. I knew it because I 
 heard the storekeeper call her name when he 
 spoke to her. It was speak to her, some way, 
 or miss my best chance on earth one ! She 
 had a rather ill horse, and he kept prancing 
 about. 4 Lady, said I, though my heart was in 
 my boots, 4 your horse has picked up a nail. 
 And before she could answer I was on the ground 
 projicking round that horse s foot, my back to 
 the guard s back, mind you, all the while. 
 4 There it is. Look here ! said I. Of course 
 it was n t the nail I handed her, but the brown 
 paper rolled into a spike. For God s sake, 
 give it to your brother, miss ! I whispered." 
 
 " Did she ketch on ? " cried the horse-trader, 
 in high excitement, and the other jurors hitched 
 their chairs closer, almost equally moved. 
 
 " She did indeed," said Captain Baz, smiling. 
 " She hid the paper in her hand, calm as calm, 
 and thanked me as she would have thanked 
 any gentleman me, a convict ! I don t reckon 
 you can guess, doctor, what balm that courtesy 
 of hers was to me, sore all over with the deg 
 radations of my odious life. God bless her ! 
 God bless her ! I kept saying. And then that 
 great blundering jack of a guard must see me ; 
 and he went for me with his whip for talking to 
 ladies. May be it was a fool thing to do, but I 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 40. 253 
 
 could n t bear to be humiliated before those 
 young ladies. Before I knew what I was doing, 
 I wrenched the whip out of his hand and flung 
 him backward into the store. 4 1 m a gentle 
 man, said I, 4 and I have done nothing to for 
 feit the right to help a lady. If you touch me, 
 I 11 kill you! " 
 
 " Good for you, captain ! " said the doctor. 
 The blacksmith cried, " That s the stuff ! " slap 
 ping his thigh gleefully. And there was a little 
 chorus of plaudits from the circle of listeners. 
 They had half forgotten the cause of their pres 
 ence, in the new excitement. 
 
 Captain Baz hardly noticed the words. He 
 continued in that white heat of passion which 
 makes the narrator oblivious of everything but 
 the life he is living and suffering over again. 
 44 No, he did n t hit me. I could n t have stood 
 that ! The girl was looking at me, so gently, 
 
 so I reckon I am forgetting myself." He 
 
 passed his hand over his face, and spoke in a 
 different tone. "She said, Don t hurt him, 
 please ! 
 
 44 4 Oh, I won t hurt him, miss, said the guard. 
 4 1 was afraid he was sassy. Look alive, 49, git 
 in ! I got in, wishing myself dead. Well." 
 
 Captain Baz stopped again. The circle of 
 faces and elbows was contracted a little by an 
 instinctive movement of sympathy. " Think er 
 
254 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 bein hit an not able to hit back ! " said the 
 blacksmith, in an a\ved tone. " Myme ! Myme ! " 
 
 The doctor was so interested that he 
 away his cigar. " Baz," said he, " is the girl 
 Mrs. Lemew ? " 
 
 Captain Baz nodded. After a second he re 
 sumed his story with a hard composure, evi 
 dently forced. " I expect there never was a 
 madder or wretcheder man than I the next 
 week. Never before had I realized the infernal 
 isolation of my position as I did then, cuffed 
 and shamed before a woman. Every instinct 
 of manhood in me seemed to blaze up, like a 
 smudge will if you fling on cotton-seed. So I 
 was in a fit frame for anything. As the days 
 went by and nothing happened, of course I 
 could n t know the inspector was away, I got 
 nearly out of my head, I was so desperate. The 
 warden promised me a licking if I ever spoke to 
 any one in the settlement again. I believe he 
 had about made up his mind that I knew too 
 much, and that he d better pick a quarrel 
 and kill me. Honestly, I think that very idea 
 was in his mind. But he did n t dare kill me 
 without provocation, knowing that I had friends. 
 Those days he was likely to get his chance, for I 
 was determined to make a break for liberty. 
 The worst difficulty was, I wanted to take Slow- 
 foot with me. I had got attached to the boy. 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 255 
 
 He used to talk to me and Chuckey you get 
 plenty of chances to talk in camps about his 
 mother and a little baby sister he had. Poor 
 boy ! I believe he was as innocent a fellow as 
 ever lived. He was in for stealing horses, but I 
 think the real thief swore it off on him. If he 
 did, God forgive him ; he had better have shot 
 the boy in his tracks. Such a life as we lived ! 
 We not only had the tyranny of the warden and 
 the killing work, the filth and cruelty, but there 
 was no restraint put on the brutality of the men 
 towards each other ; the bullies used to maltreat 
 the weaker ones, take their rations or blankets 
 or log -poles, make them tote more than their 
 share of the log, pound them, and beat them, 
 and worry them every way on earth. 
 
 " Chuckey and I, however, did up a few of the 
 big fellows, and finally even they were sorry for 
 the poor boy with his iron grinding .into his sore 
 ankle. But we could n t do up the boss, and it 
 looked like he had a special spite against Slow- 
 foot; he was hammering and beating him the 
 whole enduring time. I have seen that great 
 hulking Chuckey cry, telling of Slowfoot s tor 
 tures. It could n t last always. One morning 
 gentlemen, excuse me ; I thought I was strong 
 enough to tell this straight, bat I I ain t. 
 Will you give me a drink of water ? " 
 
 Silently the old juror took the tin cup to the 
 
256 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 bucket, filled it, and handed it to Captain Baz. 
 Not a man there but felt a thrill of sympathetic 
 emotion over the spasm of recollection which 
 drew Captain Baz s features and roughened his 
 voice, when, a moment later, he continued : 
 
 " One morning Slowfoot fainted when he tried 
 to get up. Todd would have let him stay be 
 hind, but he said Moss was on one of his crazy 
 sprees, and might take a notion to look in ; and 
 Slowfoot begged to go with us. Todd said he 
 would have to send to the settlement for nails, 
 and he would risk Moss being mad, and send for 
 the country doctor. It was his business to look 
 after us though mighty little did we all see of 
 him. So we toted Slowfoot out between us, 
 Chuckey and I, and made a sort of bed of leaves. 
 Brutes as we were, most of us, that patient, 
 grateful fellow had so touched the heart left in 
 us that all the men helped. Slowfoot was point- 
 blank bad, burning up with fever, and half out 
 of his head. Todd gave him some quinine and 
 whiskey, and I was wrapping some wet rags round 
 his ankle when the devil sent Moss along. He 
 was just drunk enough to be ugly and utterly 
 reckless. He saw us, and jumped off his horse. 
 Whether he meant to hit me through Slowfoot, 
 I don t know. I have sometimes thought he 
 did. There happened to be an ironwood sapling, 
 we d sawed off to make gluts of, lying in the 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 257 
 
 road. Moss picked it up, and ordered Slowfoot 
 to get up and go to work. 
 
 44 I cayn t, said the poor boy. 
 
 " Then Moss began to curse him. * I 11 break 
 you in two ! And at every word he was bang 
 ing Slowfoot over the head with that hard stick. 
 I could n t bear it, and jumped at him. He hit 
 me one cut. There it is on my cheek. The 
 blood blinded me, but I wrenched the stick from 
 him I hit him across the shoulder. Oh, I 
 marked him for life ! but he got out his re 
 volver and fired. I felt I was shot through, but 
 I flung myself on him, and got my hands on his 
 throat. But the guards held me, and I saw 
 Moss catch a branch of thorn-tree up, shrieking 
 out oaths and foaming at the mouth, and run 
 up to Slowfoot and strike him. Todd caught 
 his arm. 
 
 44 4 Ye cayn t hurt him, said Chuckey ; then, 
 4 Look at his face ! 
 
 44 Dead ? " said the doctor, in a low tone. 
 
 Captain Baz answered solemnly, 44 Yes, thank 
 God, they never could hurt him any more." 
 
 44 Wa al ! " exclaimed the horse-trader, 44 what 
 did they do to you all an to Chuckey?" 
 
 44 1 reckon they did n t want two dead bodies 
 on their hands. They took me back, and the 
 first person they met was Miss Edgerton and an 
 old justice of the peace she had coaxed to accom- 
 
258 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 pany her to see the camp because her brother 
 wasn t home yet." 
 
 " Then they did n t hush it up that time ? " 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " No, sir. Chuckey spoke up " 
 
 " Dad gum me, but I like that Chuckey ! " 
 cried the old farmer. 
 
 " And Todd was so sick of it all he made a 
 clean breast, too. The contract was taken away 
 from the lessee, and the men were hired to some 
 one else. I think they were fairly well treated. 
 The new inspector hired Chuckey and me. 
 Chuckey is with him still. Nobody could ask a 
 better stockman than he is. As for me, as soon 
 as I was legally free, I married Miss Edgerton. 
 You know the rest about me. But men to-day 
 are suffering what I suffered. I won t vote to 
 send a human being to a convict-camp. That s 
 all." 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, slowly, "I don t 
 want to risk it either. And yet " 
 
 " Lord, I cud n t sleep all night ef I done 
 it ! " cried the old farmer. 
 
 The professional juror studied the agitated 
 faces about him. He could see a limitless per 
 spective of disagreement and fees, if he would 
 take a lonely position against Muckwrath ; but 
 under his ragged buttons beat a swindling, 
 eccentric, soft old heart. He drew a prodigious 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 259 
 
 sigh. " Gentlemen, I reckon we re all agreed," 
 said he. 
 
 " But, fust, cap n, bout the warden ? " said 
 the blacksmith. 
 
 Captain Baz rose. " I was coming to that, 
 gentlemen. They got out an indictment against 
 him, but he lit out, and I never heard a word 
 about him until I was in town the day of the 
 killing, and saw the corpse. Gentlemen, the 
 man that Dock Muckwrath shot was my old 
 warden, Captain Moss." 
 
 The court-room was hushed as the twelve men 
 filed into their places, and answered to the 
 clerk s call of their names. 
 
 " They look terribly solemn," whispered Phil- 
 lipson s legal friend. " Bet you it s five years, 
 if not second degree." 
 
 Phillipson, convinced of the jurors solemnity, 
 had leisure to feel sorry for the pallid man in 
 the box and the woman whose eyes never turned 
 from his face. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury, are you agreed on a 
 verdict?" 
 
 " We are, your Honor." 
 
 A wave of interest, surprise, excitement, 
 swept half the audience to their feet. The ver 
 dict was Not Guilty. 
 
 Mrs. Muckwrath insisted on shaking hands 
 
260 TRUSTY, NO. 49. 
 
 with each member of the jury, lifting a smiling 
 but by this time unpleasantly sticky baby to kiss 
 the dismayed liberators of her father, assuring 
 each that Dock never would so much as kill a 
 chicken again, and he would join the Children s 
 Band of Hope, there being no adult temperance 
 society within reach. Meanwhile, Dock stood 
 by, shifting his weight from one foot to the 
 other, and grinning sheepishly. 
 
 " Say, Mr. Phillipson," shouted the revenge 
 ful Jerry Milligan, as the attorney strode past 
 the door, " ye don t pear to fale so gayly like 
 ye done ; but I m thinkin Dock f ales a hape 
 better ! " 
 
 The Northerner, who was with Phillipson, 
 laughed outright. " They do seem pleased," 
 said he. " See, Phillipson, there go the inter 
 esting family home together in one of the jury 
 men s wagon ; Muck wrath is kissing the baby. 
 Well, I confess I am glad he does n t have to 
 go to your confounded penitentiary." 
 
 But Phillipson was boiling with vexation, 
 which spattered over the first juror whom he 
 encountered. He demanded profanely why they 
 all brought in such a fool verdict, plumb against 
 the judge s instruction. 
 
 " Wa al," answered the storekeeper, for it 
 was he, " fact er the matter is, we all got to 
 talkin an discussin them convict-camps, an we 
 
TRUSTY, NO. 49. 261 
 
 lowed *t wud n t be right to send a neighbor 
 to ary sich place." 
 
 And this is all that Phillipson or any other 
 man outside the jury knows to this day regard 
 ing that verdict. Nor to this day does Dock 
 Muckwrath know that he was the unconscious 
 and guilty avenger of innocent blood. 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 THERE was a vast deal of excitement in Syca 
 more Ridge when it was rumored that Milt 
 Bedford, that jewel of his party, but otherwise 
 not especially respected citizen, was likely to 
 " get the post-office." 
 
 The place was n t worth more than nine hun 
 dred a year ; but in a Southwestern town where 
 you can buy meat for eight cents a pound, and 
 a boiled shirt is high toilet, nine hundred dol 
 lars is a tidy income. Consider, too, the dignity 
 of office, and the patronage. The postmaster 
 of Sycamore Ridge had at his beck one assistant, 
 one janitor, and one and a half scrub-women 
 the half standing for the scrub-woman s small 
 daughter who should " pack up the water." 
 And one must take into account that the present 
 postmaster, Captain Leidig, the incumbent ever 
 since the war, had slaved days and schemed 
 nights until the office was brought into a con 
 dition of prime efficiency ; it could almost run 
 itself. 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 263 
 
 Take the matter by and large, the little crowd 
 of men discussing it on the hotel platform oppo 
 site the railway were agreed to swear at " Milt 
 Bedford s cussed luck." 
 
 I have waited so often for trains on that plat 
 form where they sat, tilting their chairs against 
 the clapboards, that I know by heart the steel 
 streaks and the gaunt, dim sheds, and the infre 
 quent lamps, and the black shadows that crouch 
 like goblin beasts under the eaves, at night, and 
 the wide, wide street that has an uncanny and 
 lonesome air, so spacious is it, and so low are 
 the little brick blocks of shops, and the little 
 wooden houses with their pointed roofs. 
 
 Being a December night, this of which I am 
 telling, there was a show of Christmas bravery 
 in the windows, and a barrel of holly at the hotel 
 door. 
 
 Across the street is a small park with a trim 
 " bow-dark " or osage orange hedge. Two lamps 
 shine hospitably at the entrance. Great gum- 
 trees and sycamores make a pleasant shade for 
 summer days ; and then, the plash of the foun 
 tain entices the ear, but it tinkles coldly of a 
 winter night, and the white sycamore trunks 
 look spectral. And in winter even the half 
 hearted, snowless winter of the Southwest the 
 hillsides grow ragged and rusty, and the houses 
 look bare ; and the engine, that every night at 
 
264 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 dusk drags its lurid eye and trail of fire across 
 the bridge between the hills, like a disabled 
 rocket, hisses and shrieks dismally. At inter 
 vals a light streams athwart the skies above the 
 river, and a steamboat pipe vies with the engine- 
 throttles. 
 
 To-day the air was so mild that no one of the 
 talkers had buttoned his coat except General 
 Throckmorton, the congressman from our dis 
 trict. He always buttons his coat as a prepara 
 tion for a speech ; a habit acquired in the court 
 room. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Throckmorton, his voice 
 was soft as silk and flexible as a whip-lash, the 
 true Southern orator s voice, "I reckon Milt 
 Bedford has got a better bargain than we all." 
 
 " He 11 sure devil the money-order office some 
 way," a shopkeeper prophesied. 
 
 u Why, the scoundrel can hardly read writ 
 ing," cried Mr. Marsh, the banker. 
 
 " An Cap n Leidig knows whar ever town in 
 the ken try does be," said an old farmer, " state 
 an caounty an any. Never does need t look in 
 the book. An he reads them letters right spang 
 off, no matter how blind they be. More n I cud 
 do." 
 
 " He s a nice man," another farmer struck in, 
 " mighty stirrin an liberal." 
 
 "Yes, sir," grunted a one-legged man. 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 265 
 
 " That s jest him. Look a that pyark," 
 pointing to the sycamores " that s his n, but 
 he keeps it up for the public. Jest as he always 
 keeps them flower-pots in the winders." 
 
 44 He s a mighty clever man." 
 
 " An a mighty smart man." 
 
 A chorus of praise arose, to which Throck- 
 morton listened, smiling. 
 
 He smiled with his mouth, alone ; and to smile 
 under such a drooping, inky-black mustache as 
 his, with never a ripple in the intense black eyes, 
 is to smile like a cynic. Throckmorton looked 
 cynical. He was a slim, erect man, as distinctly 
 a Southerner as a gentleman. His appearance 
 suggested the planter of the caricaturists, with 
 out his whip or soft hat, and better treated by 
 his tailor. 
 
 " Now I, gentlemen," said Throckmorton, " / 
 call Hiram Leidig a plumb idiot." 
 
 The crowd simply gasped ; Throckmorton 
 being Leidig s closest friend, and a man not to 
 desert a friend under stress of weather. 
 
 44 Yes, gentlemen, a plumb idiot," he repeated, 
 in his gentlest tone ; 44 here he is. He could 
 have made a fortune had he stayed in the manu 
 facturing business. When the war broke out 
 he was getting a salary of twelve hundred dol 
 lars, and he had invented half a dozen little 
 tricks, and got patents on them, and saved ten 
 
266 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 thousand dollars. If he d gone back to busi 
 ness he would have had a hundred or two hun 
 dred thousand dollars to-day, instead of his little 
 twenty-five thousand. But, no ; first he must 
 fight for his country, and then he gets a notion 
 of patriotism and serving his country in his 
 head. Patriotism is worse than a tick, gentle 
 men. Here s Leidig has worn himself to a 
 frazzle to do ten men s work for his office. He is 
 a man of talent, a man of inviolable honesty, and 
 yet so courteous, so kindly, that every child in 
 the town smiles at him on the streets. He has 
 done more than any one man of his d party 
 in the State to make it respectable. And Milt 
 Bedford has done as much as any man to make 
 it detested! " (" That 5 so, blame his skin ! " 
 and laughter from the hearers.) 
 
 " Well, what does the government or the 
 party give Leidig for his long services ? You 
 all know. Half a dozen times he has been 
 within an ace of getting bounced by one party 
 or the other, and now he is going to be pitched 
 out in good earnest by his very own party be 
 cause he can t be trusted to run the office as 
 a party machine, and Milton Bedford can ! 
 That s the size of it. Now, a man who will 
 squander his chances of fortune and the best 
 years of his life on a government or a party 
 which kicks fidelity every time is a plumb 
 idiot ! " 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 267 
 
 " To my thinking, the government is the 
 plumb idiot to lose such a servant," said the 
 banker. 
 
 " And we all ain t far from plumb ijits t low 
 of it bein done ! " cried the farmer. " That ar 
 Milt Bedford ain t got 110 more honesty n a 
 shote. AU s pickin s t him ! " 
 
 " Say, gineral, are ye shore certain bout it?" 
 asked the one-legged man, Miller, anxiously 
 he was the postmaster s assistant. " Captain 
 did n t seem a mite skeered up bout it." 
 
 " Rice telegraphed me not to come on to 
 Washington," said Throckmorton. " It would 
 be useless, he said. Bedford has the pull. It 
 has been a still hunt, you understand." 
 
 There were murmurs of dissatisfaction. 
 
 Throckmorton unbuttoned his coat. His next 
 words appeared to slip from his lips by accident. 
 " Yes, gentlemen, unless we can persuade Bed 
 ford to withdraw, we must have him." 
 
 The crowd pushed their chairs closer. " No 
 violence, gentlemen, I beg," said the banker, 
 nervously. 
 
 " Oh, violence ! " said Throckmorton, curtly, 
 " Violence is played out. The first man on 
 Bedford s side would be Leidig, if we tried that 
 game. No, sir ; if we overcrow Bedford, we 
 have got to do it with moral suasion. [Every 
 one looked blank.] For instance, he is the real 
 
268 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 owner of Hurd s big saloon. Are we all obliged 
 to buy our liquors at Hurd s ? " 
 
 A solemn-looking, lean man in a very decent 
 black coat answered : " No, for sure you are 
 not. You are ruining soul and body drinking 
 his abominable stuff. I, myself, am the agent 
 for the old-established, square-dealing house of 
 Drake & Makepeace, of St. Louis, which will 
 supply you directly with pure wines, brandies, 
 whiskies, liquors, and malt liquors, at most 
 reasonable prices." 
 
 The crowd was tickled by this, and laughed. 
 
 Throckmorton had shot his arrow ; without 
 any more words he arose, saluted the others, 
 and went away. 
 
 It occurred to him that he ought to warn the 
 postmaster, who would not believe in any dan 
 ger. At the same time, he shrank from inflict 
 ing pain. He loved Leidig. The two men had 
 been like brothers since the Federal soldier 
 saved the Confederate soldier s life and cared 
 for him in prison during the war. 
 
 His scheme might succeed. There was a 
 chance of intimidating Bedford s bondsmen. 
 He had been quietly working and suggesting 
 for days, and his wits were busy with the details 
 as he walked past the dazzling windows of 
 " Hurd s Palace Saloon." He was so absorbed 
 that he jostled Milt Bedford, himself, coming 
 out of the door. 
 
TEE PL UMB IDIOT. 269 
 
 Milt gave his stiff apologies a very truculent 
 smirk. 
 
 " You re runnin into me more ways than 
 one, I reckon, gineral," said he ; " but you can t 
 
 play off any foul on me, by , so don t try 
 
 it on ! " 
 
 Throckmorton, a lawyer, had no notion of 
 committing himself ; he shrugged his shoulders 
 contemptuously, and gave Bedford to under 
 stand that he considered him drunk. Then he 
 brushed past, leaving Bedford (who really was 
 half tipsy) to cool his fury at leisure. 
 
 The encounter increased his perplexity. For 
 the life of him he couldn t decide whether to 
 tell Leidig. Nevertheless, he went to the bank 
 er s, where, as their custom was, Leidig and the 
 three others played whist every Thursday even 
 ing, in a manner to curdle the blood of a modern 
 combination whist-player. But these primitive 
 players led from " sneaks," clung to their pic 
 ture cards or trumps like grim death, and com 
 mitted atrocities right and left with as much 
 placidity as if they had been getting in the finest 
 couj)S on record. 
 
 Throckmorton was an indifferent player this 
 evening. Even the long-suffering Leidig, his 
 partner, remonstrated at his recklessness with 
 unprotected queens. Later, on their way home 
 to Leidig s lodgings, he turned on the lawyer 
 
270 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 with a friendly bluntness : " What s gone wrong, 
 Marion ? You were n t yourself, to-night." 
 
 Throckmorton squirmed out of the question, 
 somehow. Leidig, the least suspicious of men, 
 believed in a knotty lawsuit and a headache, 
 and wanted Throckmorton to stop and get some 
 anti-pyrine. Throckmorton caught his wistful 
 looks at every lamp-post. 
 
 Leidig was not a handsome man, he was too 
 short and too round ; his face had kept its boyish 
 look to a surprising extent, although he was 
 growing bald and wore a big mustache. He 
 dressed with great care. According to the 
 black maid-servant, he covered his off-duty coats 
 with a towel, and pressed his trousers between 
 the mattresses of his bed. Every morning, 
 winter or summer, he used to pick a flower 
 for his button-hole. He wore a tall silk hat, 
 because, in his youth (when he was a young 
 mechanic, determined to become a gentleman), 
 gentlemen used to wear tall silk hats. For the 
 same reason, he carried a silk handkerchief. 
 Indeed, Sycamore Ridge considered him a mir 
 ror of fashion. 
 
 As they walked along, perhaps it was the 
 full moon pouring a flood of glory over the 
 landscape, Leidig began to talk about a girl 
 who was to have been his wife long ago. She 
 had died as his mother had died, while Leidig 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 271 
 
 was fighting on the southwest border. And so 
 hard had he taken the blow that he never would 
 return to Ohio; he gathered together his prop 
 erty, and settled in Sycamore Kidge. 
 
 Leidig rarely spoke of that old grief ; he 
 never had spoken so frankly before. Some 
 how, his frankness gave Throckmorton a sinis 
 ter and creepy disquietude. He interrupted 
 him : 
 
 44 Why did you leave the agricultural imple 
 ment business ? You need n t go back to Ohio, 
 of course ; but why take our post-office ? " 
 
 " Marion," said Leidig, solemnly, " the post- 
 office saved me. You don t know. It was aw 
 ful ! I brooded over it until I was fit to kill 
 myself. God knows, I might have killed my 
 self, but they offered me this post-office. They 
 said here was a chance to serve the country. 
 And I seemed to hear my mother s voice, just 
 as it used to sound, evenings, when she would 
 tell me stories about the Revolution. Mother 
 raised me to love my country, ever since I was 
 old enough to fire fire-crackers. I seemed to 
 hear her voice, saying, c Son, it s worth while 
 serving such a government as ours. I had a 
 feeling well, you know the feeling you have 
 for your country." 
 
 Throckmorton s face contracted, while his 
 eyes roamed, in a curious way, from the stars 
 
272 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 and the darkling river (they stood on the bridge, 
 as Leidig spoke), to the lights of the city twink 
 ling like fireflies above the black roofs. He 
 made an abrupt gesture, spreading his hands 
 and clinching them. Then they relaxed, and 
 dropped by his side. 
 
 " Oh, what s the use ? " said he, " I felt that 
 way when when I had a country. Now, I see 
 how impracticable such sentiment is." 
 
 " No you don t," said Leidig, " / know you 
 don t, whether you do or not. Look here, 
 Marion, the way you felt for the South. I felt 
 for my country, our country. And I had this 
 kind of a feeling : the way to obliterate the 
 war is to fetch people close together. 4 You stay 
 here awhile, old fellow, says I, and do your 
 best for the old flag. Be a decent fellow, for 
 they are going to sample the North by you. 
 Don t go at them ramping and roaring, and 
 shaking your opinions in their face like a red 
 rag, when they re just naturally sore all over. 
 Here s a chance, says I, to do your country 
 better service than you did in the war ! Con 
 sequently, I stayed and I tried. Mother raised 
 me to be a gentleman. Leidig is as good a 
 name as there is in New York State. I always 
 remembered that. A gentleman and a soldier, 
 they say, you know. Why should n t every ser 
 vant of the government be as much of a gentle- 
 
THE PLUME IDIOT. 273 
 
 man as a soldier ? I hope I have n t made my 
 Southern friends ashamed of me. Well, I got 
 to love the work, fairly love it. Once or twice, 
 as you know, there has been talk of removing 
 me, and I can t tell you the feeling I ve had 
 about the whole town standing by me so. It s 
 the honor of my life. And to show you, Marion, 
 I ain t joking and bluffing, when I pretend not 
 to be afraid, this time, I 11 tell you that if they 
 were to turn me out, after all these years, it 
 would break my heart. I never could hold up 
 my head again." 
 
 In such a strain Leidig opened his heart, until 
 they reached his lodgings. He had two rooms 
 on the ground floor, with an outside door and a 
 corner of the wee piazza glassed over for a con 
 servatory ; and he was considered to live in 
 luxury. 
 
 Throckmorton drew a sigh of relief at the 
 sight of the gay window. He parted from 
 Leidig affectionately ; but he said nothing of 
 Rice s telegram. 
 
 That night is memorable to Sycamore Ridge 
 as the night oi what they call " The Great Fire." 
 Actually it only swept one small street, but it 
 menaced the whole town. 
 
 Every soul at the fire admired the postmaster, 
 that night ; his daring coolness and his chemical- 
 
274 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 engine saved both post-office and town. He 
 risked his life half a dozen times. The enthu 
 siasm of the witnesses bubbled over. Poor 
 Leidig himself r meanwhile, had been flung from 
 a fractured ladder. He would not go home, but 
 directed his engine, propped up by the janitor 
 and Miller. Throckmorton (who nearly killed 
 a favorite horse to get in* at the fag end of the 
 conflagration) fell upon him and forcibly bore 
 him home. Then he hustled the telegraph- 
 operator away from the cinders, and sent off a 
 message to the Post-Office Department, lavish 
 ing details of Leidig s bravery, regardless of 
 expense. 
 
 The fire called a truce to the warfare against 
 Bedford. Certainly the government wouldn t 
 have the brass to bounce Leidig after his sav 
 ing the post-office, Throckmorton assured Koz 
 Miller. 
 
 " But I can tell you one thing, Roz," he 
 added, dryly, " you would have to give up 
 Christmas or the place one, if Milt had come 
 in. Milt aims to do all the Christmasing him 
 self." 
 
 " That s so," acquiesced Koz, looking foolish. 
 He was a loyal soul and full of energy, but he 
 was " just naturally obliged to get drunk Christ 
 mas week." " I could n t fault the season, like 
 to go dry through it," he said, long before, to 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 275 
 
 Leidig. Leiclig knew the man. " All right," 
 he said, calmly, " it is disgraceful for a govern 
 ment official to get drunk. I shall suspend you 
 one week between Christmas and New Year s 
 your salary to go on as usual. You are not the 
 assistant postmaster, then. If I ever see the 
 assistant postmaster drunk, he goes." 
 
 Thereafter, annually, Miller was suspended, 
 and, annually, he returned to his post, a week 
 later, very shaky in his fingers and puffy about 
 his eyes ; but deadly sober. Between suspen 
 sions he was the most temperate of men. 
 
 Bedford, all this time, kept well under cover. 
 Perhaps he knew that Leidig s injuries were 
 turning out to be more serious than any one ex 
 pected. There were a couple of broken ribs, 
 and pneumonia had set in, complicating the 
 case. The doctor talked of " internal injuries." 
 "Infernal injuries, I say," fumed Throckmor- 
 
 ton ; " why the must you be prancing on 
 
 a ladder, a man of your flesh ? You are a 
 plumb idiot ! " He was too anxious, to keep 
 his patience, and scolded Leidig out of sheer 
 fright. 
 
 Leidig smiled tranquilly. He could not drink 
 the choice liquors or smoke the expensive cigars 
 that Throckuiorton, the banker, and other friends 
 were always sending ; but he took a boyish kind 
 of pleasure in watching the wrapping - papers 
 
276 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 removed ; and he must have all the odd assort 
 ment of cards stuck up around his looking-glass, 
 in full view. 
 
 By and by, Throckmorton did not snap at 
 him, but used a studied gentleness. But when 
 ever he left the sick-room, and walked through 
 the little parlor, he would glare at the now 
 disheveled rows of flower-pots, with the blackest 
 frown. Maudy Lize, the landlady s eldest girl, 
 always a pet of Leidig s, took to red eyes and 
 snuffles ; and the black maid-servant grinned in 
 cessantly, and forgot everything that was told 
 her, which is the African fashion of showing 
 emotion. When a negro stops grinning, he be 
 gins to howl. 
 
 Besides Throckmorton s telegram, the citizens 
 had sent an elaborate letter to the Post-Office 
 Department ; but ten days passed, and the de 
 partment made not a sign ! On the tenth day, 
 Throckmorton saw Bedford on the street. He 
 sat enthroned in a red-wheeled buggy, between 
 two men. All were smoking, all grinning. 
 Seeing Throckmorton, Bedford swept his hat 
 off his black curls with an exaggerated flourish, 
 and grinned more broadly. 
 
 " What does the scoundrel mean by that ? " 
 queried Throckmorton. 
 
 He understood directly. 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 277 
 
 Two envelopes were handed him at his office. 
 One was addressed to Leidig (Throckmorton 
 looked over his mail), and had the official super 
 scription of the Post-Office Department. Throck 
 morton tore out the inclosure, a florid letter of 
 thanks to Leidig. Although a critic in general, 
 Leidig s friend waded through the fine phrases 
 well pleased. 
 
 " It will tickle old Leidig," he thought. " Oh, 
 well, they are more decent than I lowed they 
 
 were." 
 
 Then he opened the other envelope. 
 
 There was a telegram from Rice, concise and 
 to the point. " Bedford has got the post-office. 
 Damn!" 
 
 Throckmorton flung the telegram into the fire. 
 He used some vitriolic language about the civil 
 service that would better not be repeated ; but 
 he understood Bedford s grin. 
 
 Late that afternoon he paid a visit to Leidig. 
 Young Dr. Rollin had just walked away on foot. 
 Dr. Peters was untying his horse at the gate, 
 and old Dr. Farwell sat in the buggy. 
 
 " They ve had the consultation," thought 
 Throckmorton ; and his heart choked him. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen ? " said he. Somehow, the 
 sensation that he felt seemed to mix itself up 
 with an old pain, and, again, he was a lad on 
 the battlefield, dizzy with the smoke and roar, 
 
278 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 and that horrible smell of carnage in his nos 
 trils ; watching his brother die. 
 
 The old doctor gripped his hand. 
 
 " Dear, dear, dear," the old doctor said, " ain t 
 it too bad ? Such a splendid man ! " 
 
 Then they explained to him ; but he did n t 
 understand, though he nodded, and said " yes," 
 and went through the manual of intelligence, 
 decorously ; the internal injuries rather than the 
 pneumonia that had supervened were killing 
 Leidig, so much he did comprehend, and it was 
 enough. Leidig might live a week, he might 
 die in two days. Throckmorton got away from 
 the doctors and went in to his friend. Leidig 
 lay quite alone, but Maudy Lize cried softly to 
 herself in the parlor, with the door ajar. 
 
 When he stood by the bedside, Leidig turned 
 over feebly and smiled. " Sit down, Marion," 
 said he ; " no, that s the chair with the broken 
 spring; take another." 
 
 Throckmorton is ashamed of it to this day: 
 but groaned, " Oh, d the spring ! " and burst 
 out sobbing like a baby. 
 
 Leidig soothed him ; yet there were traces of 
 tears on his own cheek. There had been a grim 
 half hour for Leidig after the doctors were gone, 
 alone in his chamber with the vision of death. 
 How does the soul conduct itself, to which, of a 
 sudden, awe and mystery have become the inex- 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 279 
 
 orable, next realities ? Disease blunts the sensi 
 bilities ; yet is there not always a chill in this 
 going beyond the shining of the sun ? 
 
 All Leidig revealed were those tears on his 
 cheek and one speech to Throckmorton. " Don t 
 take on so, my dear ; but, indeed, I can t help 
 being glad you re so sorry. It has been pretty 
 lonesome." But, immediately, he was talking 
 about the post-office, telling Throckmorton his 
 plans. " And, Marion," he added, half apolo 
 getically, " would you object to writing the de 
 partment and just mentioning I did my best for 
 the office afterward, you know." 
 
 Throckmorton, still coughing, and strangling, 
 and blowing his nose, fished the official letter 
 out of his pocket with his handkerchief. 
 
 The sick man s limp fingers fumbled in vain 
 at the paper. " I reckon you 11 have to read it 
 for me, Marion," he was obliged to say. 
 
 Throckmorton gulped, and desperately went 
 at it. The letters danced before his eyes ; he 
 had enough to do to keep his voice steady 
 through the sentences, but he read it to the end. 
 When he looked up he was startled by the rap 
 ture on Leidig s face. 
 
 " I was n t sorry before, but now I m glad," 
 said he. " Marion, it s worth while to serve 
 such a government ! " 
 
 o 
 
 Then and there, Throckmorton registered an 
 
280 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 oath that his old friend s delusion should not be 
 broken ; and he kept his vow. 
 
 It was easier than might be imagined. All 
 Leidig s friends entered into the plot. He still 
 saw a few friends, and still, every morning, Eoz 
 Miller reported for directions. He kept on re 
 porting just the same after Milt Bedford s com 
 mission arrived ; and Milt himself was swag 
 gering about the office with his hat on the back 
 of his head, cursing the late trains. Leidig 
 could n t say enough to praise Roz. " Why, 
 Marion," was his grand climax, " he is keeping 
 sober over Christmas. He refuses point-blank 
 to be suspended ! " 
 
 Christmas morning, for a second, Throck- 
 morton distrusted poor Eoz. The assistant 
 came banging and hobbling and pounding down 
 the street, on his wooden leg, hatless and coat- 
 less, in the utmost disorder. He tumbled into 
 Throckmorton s office. 
 
 44 Oh, Lord," he gurgled, spent with his ef 
 forts, "the fat s sure in the fire, now! Bed 
 ford s up with the captain ! " 
 
 As soon as he could get his breath, he related 
 how Leidig had sent an imperative message to 
 the post-office, requesting him or some one else 
 there (Roz, hard pressed, had set up a mythical 
 assistant), to come directly to the house. Un 
 luckily, Roz was out of the office. Bedford, 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 281 
 
 observing the ambiguous direction, opened the 
 note, and then remarked to the janitor that he 
 would wait on Captain Leidig. " And he s 
 gone," said Koz, nearly crying, " and he 11 kill 
 the boss, telling him ! Oh, dad burn his ornery 
 hide!" 
 
 He wasted his rage on the two clerks and a 
 much scandalized girl typewriter. Throckmor- 
 ton was half-way down the street. The lawyer 
 fancied, savagely, that he could understand : 
 Bedford s brutal vanity was in arms; and he 
 would take this revenge. Throckmorton ground 
 his teeth. Ten to one, the cur would blurt out 
 the whole vile truth! All the while his long 
 legs swung over the ground, his mind was gyrat 
 ing through lurid lies of fires at the post-office, 
 and fights in the street, and sudden deaths of 
 Bedford s nearest kin anything to get him 
 safely outside the house, where he (Throck 
 morton) could deal with him. 
 
 " I m a right peaceful man," said Throck 
 morton, feeling for his pistol, " but I ve stood 
 all the nonsense from Milt Bedford that I m 
 going to." 
 
 But when he softly opened Leidig s door, no 
 human being could look meeker. The spectacle 
 that met him was amazing. He saw the familiar 
 bed with the long fold of the white sheet over 
 the quilt. He saw Leidig s peaceful face laid 
 
282 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 back on the pillow. He saw, on the other side, 
 the ragged chrysanthemum petals nodding their 
 white against Milt Bedford s blue flannel legs, 
 as Milt stood, shifting his weight from one foot 
 to the other. His face fronted Throckmorton. 
 It wore the strangest expression : bewilderment 
 and awe, confused by the sense of an ugly kind 
 of comedy in the situation. That was the way 
 Throckmorton chose to interpret it, later. At 
 the moment, his wits were held by the daze of 
 the first words that he heard. They came from 
 Bedford. 
 
 " So you ben runnin the office jest layin here 
 on the bed," said he, slowly ; " I expect Roz ben 
 here regular " 
 
 Throckmorton beckoned. 
 
 " That s all right, general," said Bedford, 
 " I catch on. Well, captain, I won t take up 
 your time. I m bleeged to you for seeing me, 
 and I sincerely hope you 11 feel pearter, soon. 
 I wish you well." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I wish you well, sir," 
 said Leidig. Clumsily Bedford shook hands. 
 Clumsily he tiptoed out, shaking the house at 
 every step. I am told that all the way down 
 the street, he wagged his head and muttered: 
 " Lord, ain t he a plumb idiot ! But he s a 
 mighty nice man." 
 
 Throckmorton shot a keen glance at Leidig, 
 
THE PLUMB IDIOT. 283 
 
 as the door creaked and closed. He ventured 
 to ask : " Did that brute say anything to dis 
 turb you?" 
 
 Leidig s eyes twinkled. He feebly indicated 
 a package on the table. Opening it, Throck- 
 morton lifted a bottle of rum. 
 
 " Very old Medford, Marion," said Leidig ; 
 " he brought it for a Christmas present. I ex 
 pect that was why he came. He began a queer 
 farrago about all being fair in politics, and no 
 personal feeling, and the highest respect for me, 
 and he looked very up a tree, when I condoled 
 with him on his own disappointment ; and finally 
 he presented this. It is rather pleasant, don t 
 you think, Marion, to know he does n t keep any 
 grudge about the thing ? " 
 
 Throckmorton said, " Yes, it was pleasant." 
 
 Then Leidig spoke of his message to the post- 
 office, wondering why it had not been answered. 
 It had reference to his will left in his desk. 
 By this will, after legacies to his friends, he left 
 the remainder of his property to the town. The 
 bequest included his little park and about eight 
 thousand dollars. The money was to be used 
 to erect a building suitable for a post-office in 
 the park, and the town was directed to give 
 the use of the building to the government, rent 
 free. 
 
 Leidig lived for two days longer. Nothing 
 
284 THE PLUMB IDIOT. 
 
 occurred to disturb him any more ; and his last 
 intelligible words were to Throckmorton, repeat 
 ing: 
 
 " It is worth while, my dear, to serve such a 
 government as ours." 
 
 Perhaps he was right. Perhaps, again, he 
 may be right, some day. 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 THE Governor was at home. He sat in his 
 library, in a most amiable mood. His eye took 
 a languid pleasure wandering over the familiar 
 surroundings. After the bare and slightly dingy 
 furnishing of the executive office at the capitol, 
 he was glad to look again on the ceiling, with 
 its mahogany bars, the stamped gold and leather 
 behind the glass of the bookcases, and the warm 
 hues of the curtains and the velvet carpet. 
 
 " It is pleasant to be home," said the Gov 
 ernor, dropping his newspaper to look out of the 
 window. The paper certainly was not as enter 
 taining as the distant view of the lake, a blue 
 mist breaking into tumbled lines of foam on a 
 sandy beach ; or the nearer view of his own 
 lawn, and the groom in livery, leading a wee 
 Shetland pony, with his little daughter for rider, 
 around the drive, while the wind blew the 
 child s yellow curls against her rosy cheeks and 
 carried her small laughter and shouts to her 
 father s ears. 
 
286 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 Thus he happened to be looking when an old 
 German woman entered the yard and stopped 
 under the shadow of the porte-cochere. She was 
 evidently quite an old woman, with wrinkles and 
 * white hair ; but her face had a ruddy tint burnt 
 into the brown on her cheeks, and her sturdy 
 shape was erect and vigorous of movement. She 
 wore a black stuff gown made in the simplest 
 fashion, and carried a bundle. With considera 
 ble amusement the observer saw her undo this 
 bundle and take out a comb and a white ker 
 chief, preparatory to making a sort of toilet. 
 First, she brushed away the dust which lay thick 
 on her gown ; then she smoothed her hair ; and, 
 finally, tied the white kerchief about her neck. 
 Having done all this with the utmost gravity, 
 she walked to the basement door. 
 
 " Oh, woman, woman," mused the Governor, 
 " how you cling to your little vanities ! She is 
 hardly fine enough for a friend of cook s ; per 
 haps she comes to see the laundress. But why 
 did n t she dress at home ? " Smiling to him 
 self, he returned to his paper, only to be inter 
 rupted shortly by the butler s announcement of 
 a woman to see him. 
 
 "She is an old woman, sir," said Hopkins, 
 who had rather a kind heart and knew the Gov 
 ernor s like weakness. 
 
 " Show her in, Hopkins," was the reply. 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 287 
 
 " Ten to one," thought the Governor, " it s my 
 old woman. So the toilet was for me. I won 
 der what she wants of me. Thank Heaven, the 
 offices are all full, anyhow ! " 
 
 The Governor guessed correctly ; it was the 
 old woman whom he had seen. She entered 
 timidly in the rear of Hopkins. Safely oppo 
 site the Governor, she dropped a courtesy. 
 
 " Spricht Excellenz Deutsch? " she asked. 
 
 " Ein wenig," said the Governor, apparently 
 with the unworthy motive of impressing Hop 
 kins : for the instant that personage had closed 
 the door, departing, he added, " Speak Eng 
 lish, if you can ; and won t you take a chair, 
 madam ? " 
 
 44 Oh, no, gnadiger Herr Excellenz ; no, 
 I vill petter stan . Excellenz, I haf von son, 
 er ist einsiges mine only schild. Dis morgen 
 I vas tell he do dis see, Excellenz." She 
 courtesied again, holding out a carefully folded 
 newspaper to the Governor at arm s-length. 
 Even in youth she could never have been a 
 pretty woman, and years of toil had made her 
 shape angular and clumsy, and tanned and wrin 
 kled the large features framed by the white 
 hair ; but her clear blue eyes were as simple and 
 honest as a child s, and they looked up at the 
 Governor so anxiously that, glancing down the 
 page, he felt a sensation of pity. 
 
288 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 " Fritz Jansen," he exclaimed ; " are you his 
 mother?" and to himself he added, "This is 
 worse than the office-seekers ! " 
 
 The old woman courtesied timidly. She was 
 quick-sighted enough to see that, somehow, he 
 was unfavorably impressed. 
 
 Just then there came two taps at the door. 
 The Governor frowned ; he recognized his wife s 
 knock. It is not, therefore, to be inferred that 
 his domestic life was unhappy ; on the contrary, 
 he was in love with his wife, who returned his 
 affection ; but he felt a presentiment that her 
 presence would make infinitely more disagree 
 able the decision to which he was sure he must 
 come ; yet, at the same time, he was conscious 
 of an irritating longing to shift the responsi 
 bility of consolation on to some woman s shoul 
 ders besides, his wife spoke German. A third 
 tap sounded on the door-panel ; it meant, " Are 
 you engaged?" 
 
 " Perhaps I vould go vays," said the old wo 
 man. " I kin vait outsides, yet if Excellenz 
 is pizzy? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said the Governor. " Come in, An 
 nie." The lady who entered was young and 
 pretty, and her charming eyes had not yet lost 
 their look of amiable interest. She seemed to 
 have just returned from a walk, for her fair 
 skin had the wind s roses, and her blonde hair 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 289 
 
 was roughened the least in the world. There 
 was enough silver braid on her perfectly fitting 
 blue cloth dress to compel the old woman s ad 
 miration and awe. 
 
 " My wife," said the Governor, briefly. " Will 
 you interpret a little for me, Annie ? This is 
 Fritz Jansen s mother." 
 
 The old woman dropped her courtesy, the pa 
 tient sadness of her face brightening a little. 
 
 " Ya, gnadige Frau," said she, " I koom to beg 
 der barton von mine son. He is in brison to pe 
 hang ." 
 
 " You know," said the Governor, " that he has 
 been found guilty of murdering his betrothed, 
 Lena"- 
 
 " No, Excellenz Greta," interrupted the old 
 woman, eagerly. " She vas heist Gretchen ; der 
 baper speak wrong von dat, an berhaps it vould 
 be mit oder t ings wrong also ! " 
 
 " His betrothed, Greta, then," amended the 
 Governor, " under very hem very aggra 
 vated circumstances. He has had a long and per 
 fectly impartial trial, and has been condemned 
 on overwhelming evidence. I I really do not 
 see," said the Governor, trying^to bring the 
 scene to an abrupt conclusion, " how it will be 
 possible for me to pardon him. Tell her that 
 in German, Annie." 
 
 " Oh, poor thing ! " said the Governor s wife. 
 
290 THE GOVERNORS PREROGATIVE. 
 
 The old woman had listened with an expres 
 sion of pathetic attention. Plainly she did not 
 comprehend the Governor s words, but in some 
 way she gathered from his manner that her peti 
 tion was rejected. She clasped her large rough 
 hands unconsciously as she turned to the lady, 
 whose kind face looked to her then like that of 
 a guardian angel. 
 
 " The gracious lady speaks German, is it not 
 true ? " she said in her native tongue. " Ah, 
 gracious lady, it is cruel lies ; my Fritz is not a 
 wicked man. Oh, no ; who should know of him 
 better than his mother ? I will tell it in as few 
 words as I can, if the gracious lady will but lis 
 ten. My Fritz is the only one of seven the good 
 Lord has let me keep. The father was a carpen 
 ter, and he carried me to Munich, and there he 
 fell off a scaffold and hurt his back, and lived 
 ten years but never walked again ; and the chol 
 era came, and four of my children did die, and 
 there was only Fritz and Otto, because the oth 
 ers did die when they were babies. And the 
 next year, in the street a wagon did run over 
 my Otto, and he was sick for three months and 
 died. How c^ild I have lived those days but 
 for my Fritz ? He was but a boy of ten, but he 
 cared for the father and Otto while I was gone 
 to work and scrub for the American ladies. 
 He would cook and make the room neat like 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 291 
 
 a girl, and in the evenings he would study the 
 book to learn. Always he would help me and 
 do little things to please me ; and when he was 
 sixteen and the father died, he said : Now I 
 will save money, and we will go to America. 
 And he would work at everything and give me 
 always the money ; and nights he would always 
 work also, and at Christmas he conies to me 
 with a fine black gown, saying : Thou, too, 
 shalt have a fine gown for the church ; this is 
 with the evenings work, mamma. Ah, gracious 
 lady, none can tell how good and kind is my 
 Fritz ; never idle one moment and never cross, 
 but always singing, and merry, and kind to every 
 one, and not able to goby the starving dog even, 
 but must share his own soup and black bread. 
 And so it was with Greta, too, gracious lady. 
 There was in the house with us a poor woman 
 that made flowers, and she did have a little 
 girl. She was five years younger than was my 
 Fritz, eleven only was she, and one day 
 she comes weeping to my room to say her 
 mother is fainted ; but it was not fainted ; she 
 was dead. The people in the house, they say, 
 4 Now since the little Gretchen has no one to 
 care for her she must go to the waisenhaus ; 
 but my Fritz says, * Mamma, Otto is dead, and 
 all my little sisters ; there is but thee and me : 
 let us take the little Greta for my sister and 
 
292 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 thy daughter, and she shall have half my bread 
 and soup. We shall not go any less soon to 
 America, and in America will be bread for us 
 all. And that was how Greta came to us. 
 Then my brother writes to me from America, 
 saying, Come, and we came, and at first we 
 were all with my brother, and Fritz worked 
 for him ; but, after a while, Fritz and I, who 
 also worked hard, saved a little money and we 
 say we will buy a farm. So Greta, who was like 
 my daughter, and was fifteen now Greta say, 
 I will go and work at service in the city to 
 make money, so then we can buy the farm. 
 And Fritz, he works here with me to buy the 
 farm, and so it go on. Greta, she comes to see 
 me, and always she brings the money. She will 
 not have enough dresses to be bright and gay 
 like a young maiden, if I do not sometimes go to 
 the city myself to buy for her. But I know 
 that an old woman like me would not know what 
 would please a young maiden ; so I did always 
 pick out a young lady at the shop that was sell 
 ing and looked kind, and I told her what money 
 to spend I had, and how it was for Greta, that 
 was like my daughter, and would give all her 
 money to me to buy the farm. And when Greta 
 would come to see us in the new dress, then 
 would my Fritz smile and kiss me. At last we 
 did have almost enough money, and then did 
 
THE GOVERNORS PREROGATIVE. 293 
 
 come the bad crops, and my brother he loses all 
 the crop that he means to sell to pay the money 
 that he must pay on his own farm, and I feel 
 bad for him and talk with Fritz and Greta, and 
 they say he must not lose his farm when we have 
 money ; so we lend to him money, and Greta 
 tells to us how Fritz, who was like his father a 
 carpenter, could earn much money in the city. 
 By this time they were betrothed and to be mar 
 ried when we have the farm. So Fritz it was 
 six months ago went to the city. He writes 
 to me and Greta writes to me, and twice he 
 comes to see me, but two months ago I got a let 
 ter saying he must go to a city far away and I 
 will not hear for a long time ; and for two, three 
 weeks when I do not hear I do not think so 
 much, but then I begin to wonder, and I have 
 my brother write to Greta, but I get no answer, 
 and then then will the gracious lady have 
 patience with me that I am so long ? then it 
 was yesterday that my brother was in the little 
 town that is near us and a man showed him the 
 paper, how my Fritz a month ago had killed 
 my Greta, and had been before the judge, and 
 was now in prison to die." The old woman s 
 hands trembled, and her voice, for the first time. 
 The Governor s wife said something in an un 
 dertone to her husband ; he nodded and went 
 quietly out of the room, returning with a glass 
 
294 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 of wine. But the old woman, courtesying in her 
 old-fashioned way, shook her head. " No, Ex- 
 cellenz, I cannot trink; if Excellenz und die 
 gracious laty f orgif , I vill tell more in Ger 
 man." 
 
 " Certainly, if it is easier for you," said the 
 lady ; while the Governor, with a resigned air, 
 sank into a chair. The old woman continued : 
 
 " So my brother cannot show me the paper, 
 when he will come home, but sits in the corner 
 still, with his head down, and my brother s wife 
 cries and will not tell me why, and they do not 
 let the children laugh, and in the morning, when 
 they have talked together, my brother brings me 
 the paper and I see the name. And he tells me 
 how the man says that the Governor is the only 
 one can have my Fritz let out of the prison. 
 So we did go to the town, to the railroad, but 
 the cars have changed the time to go, and we 
 did not know ; so we are too late, and Hermann 
 would have me wait for the cars to-night, but I 
 could not wait when my Fritz was in prison, and 
 my Greta was dead, so I did walk " 
 
 " From where ? " asked the lady, gently. 
 
 " It is from Egmont, gracious lady." 
 
 " But it is fifteen miles ! " 
 
 " Yes, gracious lady." 
 
 " Walter, do you hear ? " said the lady re 
 proachfully ; " she has walked from Egmont ! " 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 295 
 
 " Yes, my dear," answered the Governor, 
 mildly ; " it is a long walk. She would better 
 sit down," 
 
 Then his wife rapidly repeated the old wo 
 man s story to him. " Now, tell him the rest in 
 English," she said to the old woman. 
 
 The latter turned to the Governor, and 
 dropped her invariable courtesy before she 
 spoke. " My brother told me dat I vould 
 pring de baper vat say how mine Fritz is not 
 vicked mans. I did go, dis mornin , to der 
 peoples dat know mine Fritz, Herr Excellenz." 
 She took a paper out of the bag that hung from 
 her waist, in plain sight, so that she might al 
 ways be secure of its presence, and presented it 
 with the courtesy. 
 
 Some German had evidently drawn up the 
 humble certificate to Fritz Jansen s honesty, 
 good-nature, industry, and peaceableness. " I 
 kin not for long stay," said the old woman, wist 
 fully eying the Governor s face, " so I go to 
 dem I knows. It is sign py Johann Mueller, 
 dat Fritz did vork py und Kurtz Claussen, 
 dat have de farm ve puy, und Ernst Burger, der 
 saloon-keeper dat know Fritz well in dee olt 
 country also," said she with simple pride. In 
 Germany one may be a liquor-seller and lose 
 nothing in the social scale ; indeed, it is a call 
 ing of respectability quite above Fran Jansen s 
 former station. 
 
296 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 The Governor looked uncomfortable. He 
 gave his wife a glance of appeal. " My dear, 
 I don t see what I can do," he said desper 
 ately, rubbing at the wrinkles in his forehead. 
 " There is no doubt about it, the fellow killed 
 the girl out of jealousy, in the most brutal way, 
 and then tried to throw suspicion on an inno 
 cent man. The evidence is quite conclusive ; 
 the girl lived long enough to identify her as 
 sailant. Besides, he is known to the police as a 
 brutal, dissipated fellow ; he nearly beat a man 
 to* death before. He has been sentenced justly, 
 and I have no right to interfere. Such crimes 
 as his are getting too common." 
 
 " Look at his mother," said the lady, gently. 
 She was still standing, her strained gaze bent 
 on the Governor s face, her gaunt, brown hands 
 plucking at the strings of her bag. 
 
 " I am as sorry as you are for his mother," 
 said the Governor, staring the other way ; " but 
 I have no right to let my pity blind me to 
 my duty. If every jealous brute can kill the 
 woman he is jealous of, and escape scot-free, 
 what security have you women got ? " 
 
 " I don t believe he killed her at all," said 
 the lady. ^ Such a good boy as he was could n t 
 do such a cruel thing as that. I ve read it all, 
 Walter. It s sickening, it s atrocious ; and 
 that s why I am convinced Fritz Jansen never 
 did it," 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 297 
 
 " She said he did." 
 
 " Then she was mistaken. I don t think 
 much of her" 
 
 The Governor put his hand over his mustache 
 to hide an involuntary smile. " Well, you see 
 I am sorry for her. Apart from the murder, 
 he had not treated her well. He had not even 
 been faithful to her. My dear, there are the 
 police-court records. He has been up before 
 the courts for drunkenness and assault half a 
 dozen times. His mother says he was a car 
 penter, but he was n t anything so respectable. 
 His principal business seems to have been a 
 billiard-marker, which he combined with much 
 shadier ways of getting money." 
 
 " Walter, I can t believe he was so bad, when 
 he was such a good, unselfish boy. Don t you 
 think it was touching the way he helped his 
 mother when he was a child ? I don t see how 
 he could have changed so suddenly." 
 
 " My dear," said the Governor, gravely, " he 
 may have been a good boy, I don t know ; un 
 happily, there is n t the least doubt that he was 
 a wicked man. You must remember his mother 
 only tells the best of him now ; besides, mothers 
 are the last persons to know when their sons go 
 to the bad ; probably his uncle could tell a very 
 different sort of story. Madam," turning to 
 the old woman, " what did you do with your 
 money ? " 
 
298 THE GOVERNORS PREROGATIVE. 
 
 She looked dazed, and her eyes wandered to 
 the lady, who repeated the question in German. 
 
 " I gif all to Fritz, Excellenz," she answered, 
 " und he have it in der pank to keep." 
 
 " Humph ! " said the Governor. 
 
 " It may be all right," pleaded his wife. 
 
 " Did you ever hear well, anything bad of 
 your son since he went to the city? " the Gov 
 ernor went on. 
 
 " Bad ? of mein Fritz ? " said the old woman ; 
 "nefer vun vort." 
 
 " Can you read English ? Have you read the 
 paper?" 
 
 " No, Excellenz. I kin no English read, but 
 der man he did tell to mein bruder vat it vas 
 been. Yes." 
 
 " You see, Annie," said the Governor, " he 
 might be a thorough-paced scamp, and his mo 
 ther never know. I have no doubt he has used 
 all the money she fancies is in the bank. He 
 intended this crime ; wrote to her he was going 
 away; meant to run away, for that matter. 
 Don t you notice that the murder was com 
 mitted just after he wrote ? I am afraid he is a 
 bad-hearted fellow. I don t see how I can do 
 anything for him. Such fellows as he are too 
 dangerous to be let loose. Decent people have 
 their rights too ; they ought to be protected, 
 even if the rogues must suffer. Your good 
 heart " 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 299 
 
 " I have n t any better heart than you," inter 
 rupted the Governor s wife, with spirit ; " only 
 I don t sit down on it, as you do ! " 
 
 " Blinds you," pursued the Governor, " to 
 the grim facts of the case. Not only would a 
 pardon be an abuse of the pardoning power, 
 which the people have vested in me, confiding 
 in my honesty and justice ; not only would it be 
 a virtual encouragement of a peculiarly brutal 
 class of murders ; but, my darling wife, it would 
 be cruelty in disguise to this poor old mother 
 herself. If the boy dies now, true, his mother 
 will mourn him and miss him all her life ; think 
 him an innocent victim, and me a cruel mur 
 derer. Very well, so be it. She will still have 
 her memories of his youth to console her, and 
 her very conviction of the injustice of his fate 
 will be a comfort to her; while, on the other 
 hand, if I release him, he will dissipate all her 
 illusions, neglect her, ill-treat her, very likely 
 spend every cent of her hard earnings, and at 
 last convince even that trusting soul what a 
 brute he is. It is the truest kindness to her to 
 refuse." 
 
 " But I am sure he is n t a brute ! " 
 
 " Unhappily, I am sure he is." 
 
 " Then," said the lady, quickly, " you might 
 commute his sentence to imprisonment for life ; 
 in the penitentiary he could n t ill-treat his mo- 
 
300 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 ther, or spend her money, and if he happens to 
 be innocent, you would have a chance to find it 
 out ! " 
 
 The Governor shook his head. " You want 
 to open the whole question of capital punish 
 ment, I think. But, my dear, whatever your 
 view or mine of the advisability of hanging, the 
 laws make hanging the punishment for murder, 
 and I am sworn to see that the laws are exe 
 cuted. And, frankly, I must say that if ever 
 the extreme penalty of the law was deserved, it 
 was in this case. Jansen s lawyer made all his 
 fight on technicalities. He has appealed to me, 
 and I have gone over the ground with him. It 
 was a brutal, unprovoked, deliberate murder 
 just that. Were I to pardon Jansen, I should n t 
 do it because there was a shadow of excuse for 
 him, but because I pitied his mother. Now, I 
 have n t the right to gratify my own feelings at* 
 the expense of the State. I am convinced that 
 Jansen s immediate trial and his speedy execu 
 tion will do more than anything else could to 
 stop the wholesale murder that has been going 
 on for the last six months in this State. But, 
 suppose I commute Jansen s sentence, and, be 
 cause of my leniency, a single murder not to 
 say five, or ten, or a dozen, as is probable is 
 committed ; do you think I can hold myself 
 guiltless of that bloodshed ? No, Annie ; I can t 
 
THE GOVERNORS PREROGATIVE. 301 
 
 do it. It hurts me as much as it does you to 
 have to refuse this poor creature ; but the law 
 must take its course. Tell her so, please, as 
 kindly as you can." 
 
 His wife knew him well enough to perceive 
 that further pleading would be useless. She 
 went up to the old woman and took one of the 
 big brown hands in hers. Her voice faltered as 
 she tried to put into German her husband s con 
 viction that he had no right to interfere ; before 
 she was done, the tears were running down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 The listener s face lost its ruddy brown color : 
 whether she grasped the meaning of the words 
 is doubtful, but she knew that she had failed. 
 
 " Kann Excellenz nichts fur mich?" she 
 stammered, her dim eyes still fixed with the 
 same wistful intensity on the Governor s trou 
 bled face, her hands clasped again. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Wer, den, Excellenz ? who ? I vill go to 
 him py de cars." 
 
 He shook his head again. " Good Heavens, 
 Annie," he cried, " I can t stand this ! Can t 
 you help me out ? " 
 
 " Alas," his wife said, in German, very gently, 
 " I am so sorry so sorry for you, but there is 
 no one no hope." 
 
 " No hope," the mother repeated brokenly ; 
 
302 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 " und my Fritz " Taking a step forward, 
 she tried to look more closely into the lady s 
 face, but her strength failed her ; she staggered, 
 and must have fallen had she not caught at the 
 * corner of the table to steady herself. 
 
 Instantly the lady held the rejected glass of 
 wine to her lips, while the Governor pushed a 
 chair towards her. Mechanically she took a 
 swallow of the wine ; but she would not sit. 
 
 "No, Excellenz; pardon," she said weakly, 
 "but it vas so long vays und I haf veep so 
 mooch for Greta. Now I vill go. I did already 
 dersturp der pisiness too long, und I must see 
 mem Fritz." 
 
 " I will give you a note to the jailer," said 
 the Governor, suiting his action to his words ; 
 " and " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence ; but, when he 
 had written the note, he put a bank-bill into 
 another envelope, on which he wrote a few Ger 
 man words. 
 
 The old woman stood a moment, collecting 
 her strength, her face looking old and worn. 
 She made none of the efforts to alter his deci 
 sion that the Governor had dreaded. When 
 he handed her the note, she took it with a low 
 courtesy, saying, " Excellenz haf been ver goot 
 to me. I bin sorry for troubles him," and 
 placed the paper carefully in her bag. Then 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 303 
 
 she turned to the Governor s wife, kissed her 
 hand, courtesying again and murmuring some 
 low words of gratitude, and passed, erect as 
 ever, though with a feebler step, out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Oh, poor soul ! " said the Governor s wife. 
 " Walter, send somebody to the train with her, 
 poor, simple, meek, broken - hearted crea 
 ture ! " 
 
 The Governor s face was almost as haggard 
 as that of his petitioner. " If she had only re 
 proached me, I could have borne it better," he 
 muttered. " Now, I sha n t be able to get the 
 look of her eyes out of my head ! " He ques 
 tioned Hopkins (who was the " some one " sent 
 to the train) minutely about her. Hopkins said 
 that she seemed like a woman dazed, but was 
 quite docile and grateful, and went off on the 
 right train, safely committed to the conductor s 
 care. He spoke warmly of her downstairs ; he 
 had a shrewd surmise as to the nature of her 
 errand, and his pity was not lessened by the 
 deep deference of her manner towards himself. 
 The general opinion downstairs, shaped by 
 Hopkins, was that the Governor ought to be 
 ashamed of himself. 
 
 Indeed, the Governor found little comfort 
 anywhere, unless it might be in his own con 
 science. His wife refused to be convinced by 
 
304 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 the abundant evidence of Fritz Jansen s guilt, 
 which he was at the pains to lay before her. 
 Even his children picked up some garbled ver 
 sion of the story from the maids, and his little 
 girl, nestling her golden head on his heart, 
 stabbed it with the question : " Does it hurt 
 much to be hanged, papa ? Wally says it does." 
 
 " Wally is a naughty boy to talk to you about 
 hangings," said the Governor. 
 
 " It was n t Wally ; it was just Sarah, when 
 she and Ellen were making the beds. She said 
 there was a poor man to be hanged, and you 
 would n t prevent it ; but you will, papa, won t 
 
 you?" 
 
 " You may be sure, my dear," said the much- 
 tried Governor, " that I sha n t let any man be 
 hanged who does n t deserve it." 
 
 " But, papa," pleaded the child, " don t let 
 him anyhow ! Wally says it hurts awful ! he 
 choked himself to see." 
 
 The Governor gave a sort of groan, and put 
 the child down ; it was a relief to hear the door 
 bell ring, and have a chance to get away. " I 
 wish that miserable Jansen were hanged and it 
 were all over," he thought ; " this is terrible ! " 
 He knew that the execution was to follow soon 
 after the conviction ; but he would not look at 
 the papers to see the exact date. He could not 
 keep his imagination away from the figure of 
 
TEE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 305 
 
 the old German woman so meekly accepting her 
 fate and going on that dismal journey to her 
 son. Had she staid near him ever since, he 
 wondered. On his part, he had written to the 
 various prison officials, and to the sheriff, be 
 speaking their kind offices to smooth the pris 
 oner s last days. He had sent money to the 
 jailer for Jansen s mother, "afterward." It 
 seemed to him that he had done all in his power, 
 and now he was only anxious to forget. For a 
 month after the interview he was away from 
 home most of the time, just a month, to a day. 
 He had come back, and was sitting in his library 
 with his wife, when he happened to notice a 
 paper on the table. His wife s eye followed his. 
 
 44 It has the notice of Jansen s execution in 
 it," said she ; " he was hanged, yesterday." 
 
 The Governor dropped the hand that he had 
 extended. " I don t care to see it," said he. 
 There was a wood-fire burning in the open fire 
 place, and he turned his face towards the blaze. 
 For the next few minutes there was silence. 
 Hopkins s voice broke it. He spoke in his 
 usual quiet tones, but he had a curious look of 
 suppressed agitation on his impassive face. 
 
 " It is the old woman who was here the last 
 time you was home, sir," said Hopkins. The 
 Governor turned pale. 
 
 " I will see her, Walter," said the Governor s 
 wife, gently ; " it will be better." 
 
306 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 " No," said the Governor, straightening him 
 self in the chair, with a distinct sensation of 
 wanting to run out of the room. " You are 
 very kind, Annie ; but I will see her myself. 
 Show her in, Hopkins." 
 
 She came in behind her a young man with 
 the aspect of a " naturalized American." The 
 Governor had not the hardihood to lift his eyes 
 to her- face. He was dimly aware that she was 
 courtesying in the familiar fashion ; but his 
 words stuck in his throat when he tried to speak. 
 
 " Excellenz," said the old woman, " I haf 
 pring mem Fritz." She dragged the young 
 man forward. 
 
 " Your Fritz ! " cried the Governor and his 
 wife together. " Ya, Excellenz ; ya, gnadige 
 Frau," said the old woman, with a beaming face. 
 " Ya, ven I vas py der prison und see der pad, 
 vicked mans, it vas not mein Fritz ; it vas Fritz 
 Jansen, but not mein schild, und it vas Lena 
 und not mein Greta he vas kill, already, ya. 
 Der baper vas tell kein lies. Mein Fritz vas in 
 Canada, und I go by mein Greta und it vas tree 
 days he come, mein Fritz, und I prings pack der 
 money und tanks for him. He can goot Eng 
 lish speak to Excellenz. Und, Excellenz, vill 
 Excellenz gif to him different name to dat vicked 
 mans dat is hang? He vish not be heist name 
 of mans dat is hang I " 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 307 
 
 She paused and courtesied. The young man 
 blushed and bowed. There was a strong like 
 ness between him and his mother. He had the 
 same round, honest face and wide blue eyes. 
 His profuse blonde hair was carefully parted on 
 one side of his head, just above his ear. His 
 clothes retained all the freshness of the shop 
 creases, and his linen was spotless. Greta s 
 hand might be traced in his blue cravat, as well 
 as in his mother s decent new bonnet and shawl. 
 He was evidently abashed by his surroundings, 
 but answered the Governor s questions frankly 
 and to the point. He had written his mother, 
 but the letters were delayed. Had either his 
 mother or his uncle been able to read English, 
 they would have noticed circumstances about 
 the story of the other Fritz Jansen s crime which 
 would have made them suspect the truth. Greta 
 had made everything plain to his mother, and 
 taken her home. He, himself, had returned 
 three days before, and his mother was eager to 
 have him go at once to the Governor and return 
 the money given her, and, also, this she had 
 greatly at heart, beg the Governor to change 
 his name. During the colloquy the old woman 
 kept turning her head from one speaker to the 
 other, smiling radiantly, and courtesying when 
 ever either the Governor or his wife looked in 
 her direction. 
 
308 THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 " I m fery grateful," Jansen concluded, " to 
 your Excellency and your " he hesitated, 
 seeming uncertain what was the proper title for 
 a Governor s wife, and compromised on " your 
 lady, for all the kindness you ve showed my 
 mother ; and I vould like, too, as you should 
 know I ain t that kind of a fellow like Fritz 
 Jansen, but a honest man, like my mother said." 
 
 " Ya," said the old woman ; " die gracious 
 lady believe, but Excellenz vas not know." 
 
 " I am quite sure everything your mother said 
 of you was true," said the Governor, in his most 
 affable manner, " and I shall be glad to see 
 about the legislature changing your name ; but 
 you must n t think of returning the money." 
 
 " Let it be our wedding gift to Miss Greta," 
 said the Governor s wife, with her charming 
 smile. So, indeed, it was settled ; and a certain 
 gorgeous coral and gold brooch figuring at 
 Greta s wedding some weeks later was bought 
 with that exact sum. Frau Jansen was far too 
 conscientious to add or subtract one penny. The 
 simple people went away happy, after Hopkins 
 had served them with wine and cake. The lat 
 ter mighty personage received their confidences 
 and heartfelt gratitude with stately suavity ; in 
 deed, Hopkins felt himself rather instrumental 
 in Fritz Jansen s turning out to be a good fel 
 low instead of a murderer, and an approving 
 
THE GOVERNOR S PREROGATIVE. 309 
 
 conscience swelled his imposing shirt-bosom. 
 Meanwhile, the Governor and his wife were 
 looking at each other. The Governor felt im 
 mensely relieved. Neither could he help re 
 joicing to himself that he had not weakly yielded. 
 Principle had triumphed. Moreover, the tri 
 umph had that particular spice that comes from 
 a victory over one s wife. He was quite too 
 magnanimous to say : " Now, my dear, you see 
 I know better than you about my own business. 
 How embarrassing it would be had I followed 
 your advice and pardoned that scoundrel ! 
 But he stole a glance at his wife to see how she 
 was taking things, expecting, perhaps, some hint 
 of contrition on her face. 
 
 Instead, she said, "Walter, dear, didn t I 
 tell you so ? " 
 
 " Tell me so ! " gasped the Governor. " Of 
 course you did n t tell me so ! You wanted me 
 to par " 
 
 " But did n t I tell you over and over, and in 
 sist, that that pathetic old thing s son could n t 
 be a cold-blooded murderer ! " 
 
 The Governor stared a minute in dumb 
 amazement before he got breath to laugh. 
 
 " Bless your feminine mind, Annie, and did n t 
 / insist that Fritz Jansen was ? Who was 
 right ? " 
 
 " Both of us, of course," said she. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 THERE are few more beautiful sights than an 
 Arkansas forest in late February ; 1 mean a for 
 est in the river-bottoms, where every hollow is 
 a cypress brake. Prickly joints of bamboo- 
 brier make a kind of green hatching, like shad 
 ows in an etching, for a little space above the 
 wet ground between the great trees. Utterly 
 bare are the tree-branches, save for a few rusty 
 shreds clinging to the cypress-tops, a few bunches 
 of mistletoe on the sycamores, or a gleam of 
 holly-leaves in the thicket ; but scarlet berries 
 flicker on purple limbs, the cane grows a fresher 
 green, and, in February, red shoots will be deck 
 ing the maple-twigs, there will be ribbons of 
 weeds which glitter like jewels, floating un 
 der the pools of water and ferns waving above, 
 while the moss paints the silvery bark of syca 
 mores, white-oaks, and gum-trees on the north 
 side as high as the branches, and higher, with 
 an incomparable soft and vivid green. The 
 white trunks show the brighter for their gray 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 311 
 
 tops and for that background everywhere of 
 innumerable shades of gray and purple and 
 shell-red which the blurred lines of twigs and 
 branches make against the horizon. Such a 
 forest is in my mind now. What an effect of 
 fantastic and dainty magnificence the moss and 
 the water and the shining trees produce ! The 
 dead trunks are dazzling white, the others have 
 the lustrous haze of silver ; it is not a real for 
 est, it is a picture in an old missal, illuminated 
 in silver and green. Yet beautiful as it is, there 
 is something weird and dreary in its beauty 
 in those shadowy pools of water, masked by the 
 tangle of brier and cane ; in those tall trees that 
 grow so thickty, and grow, I know, just as 
 thickly for uncounted miles ; in the shadows 
 and mists which are instead of foliage ; in the 
 red streaks on the blunt edges of the cypress- 
 roots and the stains on the girdled gum - trees, 
 as if every blow of the axe had drawn blood 
 there is a touch of the sinister, even, and it 
 would not be hard to conjure up a mediaeval 
 devil or two behind such monstrous growths as 
 those cypress " knees." 
 
 Through this forest winds a rude road, wind 
 ing because of the river, for these red smears to 
 the right are willow-branches which mark the 
 course of the Black River. On the February 
 day that I recall, a one-armed man was driving 
 
312 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 a pair of stout horses to an open spring-wagon, 
 the kind of wagon called in Arkansas u a hack." 
 The wagon was new, and the harness had none 
 of the ropes, odd chains, or old straps apt to 
 garnish harness on a plantation. The driver, 
 also, though wearing nothing better than a faded 
 gray -flannel shirt, jean overalls, and rubber 
 boots, was clean and even tidy in his appear- 
 rance. His broad shoulders and long back 
 promised a frame of unusual height, should he 
 straighten himself up, instead of slouching for 
 ward until his hat-rim and its fringe of black 
 curls made a semicircle between his shoulders. 
 The reins were about his neck, and he guided 
 his horses with his one hand. For all his empty 
 sleeve, Jeff Griffin was the best driver " in the 
 bottom." At the same time his elbow steadied 
 the object on his knees. This was carefully 
 wrapped in a piece of that bagging which is 
 used for cotton-bales. Presently he checked his 
 horses, to very gently remove the wrappings, 
 bending over them a plain, kind, tear-stained 
 face. He was looking at a little coffin. It was 
 simply made, yet in a workmanlike fashion, too, 
 and was painted white, with silver nails and han 
 dles. 
 
 " Ain t it beaucherful ! " he murmured ; " it 
 mought rouse er ! " 
 
 "Howdy, Mist Griffin," called a voice from 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 313 
 
 the roadside, with those mellow intonations 
 which are as much the property of a black 
 throat as the color of its skin. " Kin ye gimme 
 lift fur s de twurn?" 
 
 Griffin perceived that he was abreast of an 
 old negro, on foot, carrying a bag of meal on his 
 shoulder. He knew him, Uncle Nate, who 
 worked on the Widow Brand s farm. It was 
 inevitable, according to the customs of the coun 
 try, that Jeff should let the old man climb into 
 the wagon. 
 
 " Ben down ter de Bend," said he, settling 
 himself comfortably on the back seat ; " my ole 
 woman ben r arin an chargin fur mo meal. 
 Cud n t cotch dat fool mewl ; hed tu gether de 
 bag on my wethers an walk. Whut ye got dar , 
 Mist Griffin ? Looks like f o de Lawd, hit s 
 a coffin!" 
 
 " Hit s fur fur little Bulah," said Griffin, 
 choking. 
 
 " Not Cap n Bulah s baby ! My Lawd, ain t 
 dat too bad? W y, I seen de Eller a-layin* 
 at de landin dis ev nin w en I come by. An* 
 Cap n Bulah, don she be takin on turrible ? " 
 
 " She kep walkin the floor with it all las* 
 night, long s it lived. Never made a lisp er 
 complaint. Done anything the doctor com 
 manded, an all her word was, Doctor, don let 
 er suffer ! but w eu she seen doctor war doin 
 
314 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 his bestmost, she never said nary nuther word. 
 Looked like she wud n t hinder im a-frettin . 
 She are mighty fair-minded, Cap n Bulah, Nate." 
 
 "Is so," agreed Nate, sympathetically; " but 
 whut a sight er turbbel she done hab, fust de 
 cap n, an now de onlies chile she got dyin off. 
 Was hit sick long, sah ? " 
 
 " On y two days. T hed crowp." 
 
 " Dey all b en stoppin ter yo house sence de 
 boat tied up fur ter hab de b iler fixed ? " 
 
 " Yes. The baby b en sorter weakly-like all 
 winter. Bulah, she war mighty timid of her 
 but did n t do no good." 
 
 " Looks like," said Uncle Nate ; " sut nly de 
 ways er de Lawd is dark, an we uns cayn t get 
 round ern, nohow. Now, dar s dat ar baby de 
 mudder leff ter de sto las Chewsday ; ye heerd 
 on t ? " Griffin shook his head. " By gum, ain t 
 dat cuse ! Wy, t war dat ar Headlights, s dey 
 calls er, kase of dem big feery eyes er her n. 
 Tall woman ; ye knowed er, picked cotton for 
 dey all at de Bend. Feared ter set a heap er 
 store by de little trick, 1 too ; but she taken up 
 with a mover, an he p intedly swore dat w en he 
 got married he did n t want no boot. So Head 
 lights, she putt de baby unner de counter an lit 
 
 1 Trick, in Arkansas speech, means a number of things: 
 a child, an article, a stratagem, a machine ; in fact, it is as 
 hard- worked a word as "thing." 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 315 
 
 out ; an dey bof e done gone. Mist Frank, he 
 clerks ter de sto now, an he fotched de baby 
 home ter his maw fur ter keep twell somebud- 
 dy d want hit. An dar dat baby is, eatin 
 hearty, dat his own mudder don keer ter keep ; 
 an dar s Cap n Bulah a-mournin an ref uzin ter 
 be comfurted, like dat woman in de Scripter 
 I disremembers her name. Dat s what tries de 
 fait ; mo ye studies on hit, mo you tried. Dar- 
 fur, O Lawd, lighten we all s unnerstandin s ; 
 fur we s up peart like de grass, an en de inawn- 
 in we s p intedly cut down." Here the stream 
 of Uncle Nate s consolations meandered into the 
 safe channel of his prayers (Uncle Nate had a 
 gift) and flowed placidly on for a while, Griffin 
 not hearing a word. 
 
 The latter s thoughts took their own dreary 
 way, in vagrant, unuttered sentences : " She s 
 rockin ; in the little red rocker, sides the bed. 
 She done hilt Bulah en her arms ever sence 
 she dressed of her. She are a-holdin er now. 
 She ain t cried, nur wept, nur spoke ; jes sets 
 thar a-rockin her baby an lookin at its face. 
 Oh, Bulah, won you let nobuddy holp ye ? Hits 
 pore little han s a-hangin down my Lord, 
 how cole t is ! Oh, pore little Bulah ! pore lit 
 tle Bulah ! but ye don never need suffer no 
 more, baby. Bulah, won ye lemme cyar the 
 baby a spell ? " his thoughts had gone back 
 
316 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 to the horrible night just past ; he was plead 
 ing with the poor mother again. " Ye 11 shore 
 drop ; ye cayn t keep up that-away ! Lemme 
 take er ; I kin make out ith one arm. I done 
 cyared er a heap. T ain t no good talkin 
 she don hear me. Oh, Bulah, she don have 
 no more pain ; the Lord taken er outen it now. 
 Let S leeny take er ; you lay down. Don cry 
 so, S leeny, mabbe it frets er ter hear us ; we 
 kin cry, out-doors." 
 
 Now it was the doctor s voice speaking : " You 
 must rouse her somehow ; she 11 die or go crazy 
 if you don t." 
 
 " Rouse her ? Lord God ! how kin I, w en I 
 cayn t make her hear me ? I wish t it b en me 
 stiddier the baby, Bulah ; I b en prayin all 
 night ter the Lord ter take me stiddier her. 
 Won ye jes lift you head, Bulah, an try ter 
 listin ? It s Jeff talkin ter ye ! Ye know how 
 Jeff allus thought a heap er ye naw, naw, ye 
 never kin know what I thought er ye ! Never 
 ye min what I say, honey, I cayn t b ar to see 
 ye settin that-away, an I say quar things. Do 
 ye hear me, Bulah ? Oh, Lord God ! " He re 
 membered so vividly just how useless his efforts 
 were that he groaned aloud. 
 
 Uncle Nate stopped short. 
 
 " I wuz forgittin everythiii but my trubbel, 
 Nate," said Griffin ; " wuz ye sayin suthin ? " 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 317 
 
 " I wuz jes speakin bout dat ar baby, sah ; 
 sayin twar a year V haff ole, jest." 
 
 "Yes the baby jes seventeen months," 
 said Griffin, in a dazed way ; then, with quite a 
 new expression, he turned his head on the black 
 man. " Ye mean Headlights s baby ; what like 
 is hit ? Is hit pretty ? " 
 
 "Iz t dat," said Uncle Nate, judicially, "I 
 ain t no jedge. Looks right puny an ga nted, 1 
 but I lay it git over dat at we uns . Yeah s de 
 twurn, Mist Griffin! I wish t ye well, sah! " 
 
 The " twurn " meant the fork of the road. 
 One of the bifurcations goes on deeper into the 
 swamp, the other deflects toward a clearing 
 wherein, back of cotton-fields and garden, stands 
 a comfortable battened house, the widow Brand s 
 house. A certain trig look about land and 
 buildings may be due to the fact always kept 
 well to the fore that the widow came from 
 Georgia. Jeff could see her tall figure on the 
 porch, now; she was caressing a baby. His 
 heart gave a kind of leap in his breast, and he 
 turned white and grabbed at Nate s bag. 
 
 " Nate," said he, almost in a whisper, " I 
 wanter see that ar chile ! Is t a boy ur a gyurl ? " 
 
 " Thar tis," replied Nate ; "li le boy. Won 
 ye come by, sah ? " 
 
 1 Thin ; puny is always used for sickly ; peart always means 
 lively, well. 
 
318 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 The widow came out to meet them, the baby 
 in her arms. She always wore her hair looped 
 smoothly over her ears and fastened behind with 
 a " tuckin comb." It was black hair, having 
 a shine to it like her eyes. Spare and tanned 
 as her features were, they were not uncomely, 
 and their expression of shrewd alertness softened 
 wonderfully when she recognized her visitors. 
 The boy certainly was thin, pale, too, still, 
 a pretty, bright little fellow, who ruffled the wid 
 ow s sleek hair and slapped her cheeks, in the 
 gayest humor. Griffin could not understand 
 why he felt a curious pang of relief, seeing how 
 unlike the little castaway was to the dead child. 
 He saluted the widow. 
 
 " Oh, we re all stirrin ," she replied. " Aunt 
 Fanny b en over n tole me bout you all s flic- 
 tion. They jes puttin the gears on the mewls." 
 
 " Won ye come longer me, Mis Brand, now ! " 
 interrupted Jeff, eagerly ; " an cayn t ye fotch 
 long the baby ? Ye heerd bout Bulah ? I in 
 turrible skeered up bout er, an I sorter lowed 
 mabbe the little trick mought rouse er being 
 leff so lonesome like ; ye know Bulah s powerful 
 good-hearted." 
 
 " We kin try," said the widow, musingly ; 
 k< ye got good sense fur a man person, Jeff." 
 
 She was very soon in the wagon, on the seat 
 behind Griffin, watching him as they drove si- 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 319 
 
 lently through the swamp. She thought that his 
 had been a lonesome kind of life. Jeff Griffin 
 had come back from the wars with an arm the 
 less, to support his bedridden mother, his wid 
 owed sister and her family, and a forlorn little 
 cousin with no nearer kindred than they Bulah 
 Norman. " Old Man Griffin " and the " big 
 boys " had been killed long before. Jeff him 
 self was seventeen, but he had been a soldier for 
 two years. The Griffins originally came from 
 Tennessee. They bought a little farm on the 
 outskirts of a large plantation on the Black 
 River. They were all of them honest, hard 
 working people, and Jeff had a natural turn for 
 business, though he could not write his name. 
 Those days, there was money in cotton ; those 
 halcyon days when we burned our cotton-seed 
 for fuel, yet could get more for the cotton alone 
 than we can get for them both now. Jeff toiled 
 early and late. As the widow from Georgia told 
 her son Frank (a good fellow, clever, too, but a bit 
 touched by the climate), Jeff Griffin s one arm 
 did more than any other man s two. He pros 
 pered ; he bought more land, he built a house 
 for his mother, just the year before she died, 
 poor soul, and generously started his nieces 
 and nephews in life. One by one they drifted 
 out into the world until only their mother and 
 Bulah Norman, now grown into quite a pretty 
 
320 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 lass of eighteen, remained in the house with 
 Jeff. Bulah was eleven years younger than 
 Jeff. He had always been devoted to her. 
 When she was a child he never tired of her prat 
 tle ; he gave her a calf, a colt, a saddle, a rid 
 ing-whip, while every other girl in the settle 
 ment was content with a pawpaw switch ; he 
 could not do enough for her. If he was too 
 busy to go to school himself, he was never too 
 busy to drive " the little tricks " over to the 
 schoolhouse, and every evening, Bulah, " the 
 least little trick of all," used to teach him what 
 she had learned. Bulah was very fond of Jeff, 
 in a filial way ; but Jeff loved Bulah with all 
 his heart and soul and strength. He was such 
 a dry, quiet, matter-of-fact fellow that nobody 
 ever dreamed of such a thing ; that is, nobody 
 but the widow. How do women manage to dis 
 cover a reticent man s passion ? Jeff had never 
 confided in the widow; but one day she re 
 marked to him, with the calm bluntness of the 
 backwoods, "Look a yere, Jeff, ef you don 
 make haste an court Bulah she 11 be takin up 
 with that thar triflin , biggity Sam Eller that 
 she met up with down to Newport w ilst she s 
 stoppin with S leeny s gyurl. She will so." 
 
 44 Po Jeff ! " the widow was saying to herself, 
 now, " I come too late. He done got her prom- 
 mus then. Jeff looked like he was jes gittin 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 321 
 
 up by a spell er sickness, them days p int 
 blank gashly ; but he never let on, jes talked 
 natchell to Bulah, an , law me, what a sight er 
 truck he guv er ! An thar she leff that nice 
 house that he done fixed up so lady-fine fur her, 
 an her room, all papered, gran s Mrs. Francis s, 
 roses all over the walls, and the ceilin painted 
 blew like the sky, t go and live with Sam 
 Eller in a boat ! I reckon she found out right 
 quick that thar war n t nuthin t him cept good 
 looks an brags ! an ye cayn t eat neither. Won 
 der how long fore he begun borryin money er 
 Jeff. He wuz no force, nohow. Say he war 
 blin drunk w en he tumbled outen the pilot 
 house, spang on the deck, an mashed is shin, 
 and never got up by it. Lived a whole year 
 ayfter, too. Bulah war mighty long-sufferin 
 with him, tendin on him night n day, an run- 
 nin the boat, too ; an , in course, the baby mus 
 come in the thick of it ! An t made me mad, 
 seem him so ill l with her. I don guess a man 
 person kin holp r arin on ye, some, w en he s 
 sick, kase he wants out so bad, r iles im all up ; 
 but he wuz a-cussin and sw arin the plum 
 w ile, an steamboat cap ns natchelly kin cuss 
 wusser n anybody else ; clare, I don see how she 
 cud b ar t sich a patient way. What wud she 
 a done outen Jeff ? Keepin the cap n under, 
 
 1 Cross. 
 
322 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 an lendin money, and lettin S leeny go an 
 stay on the boat by spells to holp er an cherk- 
 in er up law me, I never seen a man per 
 son like Jeff Griffin ! An now that the Lord 
 done took the cap n, an she kin have her time 
 an her pleasure, she won go home long er Jeff ; 
 naw, she mus run the boat twell she kin pay 
 off the money jes biggity, she is ! How come 
 she don marry Jeff ? That ar d pay him best. 
 Nex thing, he mus coax S leeny to go long er 
 Bulah, an leave him lone with jes Aunt Fanny 
 ter tend ter im. I know her cookin ; ye cud 
 build chimbleys outen her light bread. An 
 now, this have ter come on em po Bulah ! " 
 
 She bit off her sigh, lest it should disturb 
 Jeff, for they had come to their journey s end, 
 and the horses were standing. There were the 
 brown cotton-rows and the whitish-brown stalks 
 strewn over them ; there, under the elm-trees, 
 was Aunt Fanny s cabin, and there was the 
 house, long, low, with its black roof and white 
 washed walls. The open gallery in the centre 
 had been decorated with bunches of sweet herbs 
 and strings of red pepper. Two or three sad 
 dles and a gun are expected to hang in an 
 Arkansas " gallery ; " they were a little brighter 
 than common here. 
 
 The new-comers stepped softly through the 
 gallery into a large room. Bulah was sitting, 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 323 
 
 precisely as Jeff s imagination had pictured her, 
 rocking her dead baby. An elderly woman had 
 her back to them, leaning over the hearth, and 
 the turkey-wing in her hand, with which she 
 was brushing the bricks, moved by jerks as if 
 the hand were nervous. 
 
 Bulah did not look up; her head was bent 
 over the waxen face on her arm. The dead 
 calm of her own face was more ghastly and piti 
 ful to see than any anguish. All the while, she 
 was rocking very gently, never ceasing, or in the 
 least varying the motion. Her chair made the 
 merest creak ; yet, all at once, the other woman 
 hurled the turkey-wing aside to wring her hands, 
 sobbing : " Bulah, I cayn t en jure t hear ye ! 
 For the Lord s sake putt her down ! T ain t 
 Christian-like. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! she don 
 hear a word." 
 
 She did not seem to hear. To her, in that 
 awful mystery of grief, where her soul was with 
 her dead child and her dead hopes, all this out 
 side jar and fret vibrated so faintly, that before 
 she could comprehend their presence they had 
 ceased. Nor did she seem to notice Jeff when 
 he showed her the coffin, begging her, weeping, 
 to look at it. 
 
 The widow, with the child in her arms, 
 stepped across the floor on tiptoe. " Bulah," 
 said she, solemnly, " the Lord taken you baby, 
 
324 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 an this yere baby s mother have desarted him, 
 an he s all alone on earth. Cayn t ye find it in 
 you heart t have pity on him ? " 
 
 She put the child down, close to the strange- 
 looking, silent woman, and, naturally enough, 
 he began to cry. 
 
 At the first whimper, Bulah s eyes were 
 lifted ; with an indescribably wild and agoniz 
 ing inquiry, she stared at the small creature, 
 now quite terrified, and wailing, " Mammy ! 
 mammy ! " 
 
 " Ya ain t got no mother, baby," said she ; 
 then, with her dreadful composure, " nur I ain t 
 got no baby." She would have loosened one 
 arm to touch the little fellow, but the action 
 seemed to recall something ; for, screaming 
 " How could she ! how could she ! " she burst 
 into a passion of tears, and while she wept, the 
 widow gently took the dead child out of her 
 clasp. 
 
 Little Bulah s grave had been green for 
 months, and it was on an autumn day that Jeff 
 Griffin stood on the platform of the plantation 
 store, waiting for the Samuel Eller to round 
 the Bend. Being Saturday afternoon, there 
 was a pretty bustle about the settlement a 
 hum from the mill where the cotton-wagons were 
 unloading, a continual ring of the hammer from 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 325 
 
 the smithy, and a far-away song floating up from 
 the cotton-fields filled with pickers. At least 
 thirty horses were tied to the fence-rail on the 
 left, and a score of booted legs dangled over 
 either platform. Occasionally, a sunbonnet 
 might appear in the doorway, but it was likely 
 to go straightway about its business, having 
 possibly more business than belonged to the 
 boots. All about this wee hubbub of human 
 life was the forest ; maples and hackberry-trees 
 kept up their autumn revelries in scarlet and 
 gold, and their gay leaves, fluttering amid the 
 sad-colored foliage of the cypress, looked like 
 courtiers dancing with Puritans. To the right, 
 the woods on either side the river-bank seemed 
 to converge ; that was " the Bend." 
 
 " Yon she comes ! " cried Jeff, spying a cork 
 screw of smoke above the tree-tops. He spoke 
 to the widow from Georgia, who had just emerged 
 from the store, in a very clean and stiff print 
 gown, and was prudently testing some new 
 snuff before carrying it away. 
 
 " Cap n Bulah never misses," she answered ; 
 " ain t it amazin how well she done ! Say she 
 done passed her examination, an got a license 
 reg lar. The mate says they ain t many like er. 
 Expect S leeny stayed down t Black Rock ith 
 her son. How are you all s little trick? " 
 
 " Oh, he s right peart," said Jeff, his plain 
 
326 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 face quite beaming ; " gittiii on smart. Talks 
 a heap. Toilers me roun everywhar, laffin , 
 an grabbin at my pants sorter good them 
 little fingers feel, don t they? Putt him on 
 ole Nig, las week. I wish t you d a seen im ; 
 fust, he looked mighty jubious ; then he begins 
 to laff. He 11 git likened to ridin mighty 
 briefly." 
 
 " Yo mos petted on him s Bulah, ain t ye ? 
 How come ye don keep him an her both with 
 ye, allus? Actchelly, Jeff, my bones is wearin 
 out waitin t dance at yo weddin ! " 
 
 The reply to such jocularity ought to have 
 been a sheepish grin, but Jeff looked very 
 downcast. " Ye won t never dance at my wed- 
 din ," said he, " an iz t Bulah, she have laid 
 by t stay single." 
 
 " Wai, I did n t aim t drag l ye, Jeff, but 
 law me ! " The caustic twitch of the widow s 
 lips disappeared in a gurgle of dismay ; she will 
 never be nearer swallowing her snuff-stick. On 
 the landing in front of her was a tall woman, 
 whose wild beauty could not be obscured by her 
 wretched dress a draggled brown-stuff skirt, 
 ragged blue jacket, and towsled red handker 
 chief, knotted awry. A mass of glossy black 
 hair was straggling out of its coil over the red 
 triangle behind ; her battered hat shaded a bold 
 
 1 Tease. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 327 
 
 profile, cut cleanly, like the head on a Roman 
 coin. The sun, which plays havoc with dainty 
 beauties, had only deepened the rich tints of her 
 skin, and brightened the untamed fire in her 
 eyes. She was as graceful and unconscious as 
 a panther. 
 
 " Headlights ! " muttered Mrs. Brand, under 
 her breath. 
 
 Jeff had not even seen her ; all his eyes were 
 for the boat. Yes, that was Bulah on the upper 
 deck, and there was the dear little white head 
 against her skirts. Other people might see 
 merely a slip of a woman, with plenty of freckles 
 on her fair skin, a firm little mouth, and pa 
 thetic blue eyes. What Jeff saw but how 
 can I picture the radiant being as the lover sees 
 her? 
 
 Now the plank is down, and Jeff, with his one 
 arm and his Southern gallantry, is helping the 
 widow across, who does n t need helping one 
 whit, but accepts it as the duty of a " man per 
 son." In a minute they are on the deck, and 
 Jeff has little Jeffy on his shoulders and can 
 look at Bulah. But why have Tom Bracelin, 
 the deputy-sheriff, and his two men come on 
 board, and does that shabby woman mean to 
 take passage on the Samuel Eller ? She pushed 
 the underlings aside with an imperious elbow, 
 and got close to Jeff and the little fellow. 
 
328 TEE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 " That s him ! " she shouted, " that s my 
 chile ! Take him way, boss ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Bulah, and flung herself 
 upon Jeffy s small legs, the only portion of him 
 within reaching distance. 
 
 " What ye seekin ? " demanded Jeff, sternly. 
 
 " I are seekin my own chile, thet I left unner 
 the store-counter," Headlights answered, " an 
 you uns taken him." 
 
 " Ye wicked critter ! do ye reckon we all will 
 guv him up t ye ? " 
 
 " I reckon ye 11 have ter," said Headlights, 
 composedly ; " they s a right smart er folkses 
 kin sw ar hit s my chile. You all ain t dopted 
 of im, riur nuthin ! " 
 
 " Look a yere, you Mis Headlights, or whut- 
 somever s yo name," said Mrs. Brand, " ain t 
 ye got no natchell motherlike feelin s bout the 
 po little trick s own intrusts ? Look at him be- 
 in raised so good, gwine ev ry Sunday t school 
 or t preachin , an gittin washed hisseff ever 
 mawnin , an good cloze, and his knees patched 
 beaucherful, an look a them copper toes," 
 shaking poor Jeffy s foot at her, " an you 
 cayn t so much as guv him proper victuals ; I 
 seen ye, myseff, feedin up that innercent chile 
 on gouber peas and hog s melts ! My word, I 
 wonder he got any insides leff he had n t orter 
 have." 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 329 
 
 Headlights listened quite unmoved to this 
 homily, and equally unmoved she heard the 
 threats of the boat people and the remonstrances 
 of Mr. Francis, who had come aboard. The 
 owner of the plantation was no more to her than 
 the deck-hands. There is a depth of poverty as 
 arrogant as riches, and social distinctions count 
 for nothing in that grave. 
 
 " Ye kin r ar all ye like," said she, tossing 
 her black mane, " I m gwine cyar off my boy. 
 Yere, baby, come to mammy, mammy got 
 candy." 
 
 But Jeffy gripped Jeff s neck all the harder, 
 whimpering " Jeffy faid ! Way, lady ! Way, 
 lady ! " and, with a very black frown, Head 
 lights beckoned the officer to help her. 
 
 He advanced, looking desperately ill at ease. 
 " I m right sorry, ma am," said he, " but she s 
 got the law on her side, and I have to do my 
 
 jty-" 
 
 Jeff and the mate of the boat exchanged 
 glances ; they had the simple Southern plan of 
 dumping the officers overboard and steaming off 
 down the river ; they were willing, however, that 
 Mrs. Brand should try her device first. 
 
 " Wai, Tom Bracelin," said she, as it were 
 clearing the decks for action by throwing away 
 her snuff-stick, "I never did low t see you 
 draggin off a po harmless little chile int per- 
 
330 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 dition fur ye know taint no better monst 
 them cotton-pickers you with you own six 
 little tricks t home, too ! How d ye enj y hevin 
 them two least ones tolled off by a gang er cotton- 
 pickers? Cap n Bulah sets s much store by 
 thet ar baby iz you kin by yourn ; and mo too, 
 kase it s all she s got. Nur wud I of b lieved it 
 er you, Lafayette Sands," wheeling round 
 upon one of the deputies, who tried, ineffectu 
 ally, to blow his nose to hide his confusion, 
 "them evenin s you an Bulah Norman wud 
 come home from school tergether an be pro- 
 jickin roun my kitchin for light bread an 
 smear. Naw, sir, I did n t guess them days ye 
 wud do Bulah meaner n a murderer ! Iz fur 
 you, sir," the second deputy jumped, "I 
 ain t got no acquaintance with ye, but you a 
 pretty man, an I jedge ye to be a clever man," 
 the second deputy rubbed off a smirk with a 
 very big hand, " an I don t guess ye aim ter 
 hurt that ar pretty chile,, ef t is the law ! Ony- 
 how, gentlemen," concluded the widow, in the 
 most unexpected way, " ye won t let er cyar that 
 chile way th out payin Cap n Bulah board." 
 
 " Board ! " screamed Headlights, " who ever 
 heerd er payin board fur a baby ? " 
 
 " Board war guv that baby," retorted the 
 undaunted Georgian ; " good board, too. An* 
 feedin a chile ain t like sloppin a pig, neither. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 331 
 
 Ye caj^n t devil them little stummicks with leav- 
 in s ; they has t have good victuals that cost 
 money. That chile b en boarded frum last er 
 Feberary to last er October makes eight 
 months. Call it two dollars a month ; that s 
 p int blank cheap ; twicet eight s sixteen. Then 
 the cloze ; Cap n Bulah done spent most er nine 
 dollars fur truck fur that ar chile, ain t she, Mr. 
 Francis ? " 
 
 " More," replied Mr. Francis, with a twinkle 
 in his eye he saw the widow s drift ; " she 
 must have eleven dollars charged on the petty 
 ledger, now." 
 
 " I m blamed my skin," the cotton-picker 
 struck in, "if I ever spent dollar V haff on the 
 chile. Quit yo funnin , I won t pay board ! " 
 
 " Reckon some folkses wud count in the boat- 
 fares gwine back ards and for ards on the river," 
 continued the widow, " but we uns ain t graspin . 
 Twicet eight s sixteen, an eleven is twenty-seven. 
 That ar s ciphered right, ain t it ? " 
 
 Headlights burst into a fierce sort of laughter, 
 crying, " I ain t got twenty-seven cents ! " 
 
 " Oh, we uns air content t take a morgige on 
 the chile," replied the widow, calmly, " for six 
 months ; an we 11 keep the chile twell then, an 
 ef ye don t pay then we 11 keep the chile f urever 
 mo . Mr. Francis is a squire ; he 11 draw up 
 the papers. Do you all gree to that ? " 
 
332 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 Bulah released her hold on Jeffy to look 
 around ; her pallid features and entreating eyes 
 said more than her voice : " Oh, gentlemen, be 
 merciful, look how he loves me ; he ain t nuthin 
 to her ; don t part us ! He s always b en 
 puny ; he 11 die off in the swamps, like she 11 
 take him." 
 
 The men whispered together. They were in 
 deed glad of a loophole of escape ; and the up 
 shot of the matter was the production by Mr. 
 Francis (after an interval in the cabin) of a 
 document duly drawn up and reading as follows : 
 " 1, Sabrina Mathews, alias Headlights, do prom 
 ise to pay to Mrs. Bulah Eller, of Lawrence 
 County, Arkansas, the sum of twenty-seven dol 
 lars on or before the fifteenth day of April, 
 18 ; and if I do not pay the aforesaid sum of 
 twenty-seven dollars by or before the fifteenth 
 day of April, 18 , I hereby promise to give 
 and bequeath and resign to the said Mrs. Bulah 
 Eller iny child, now known as Jefferson Griffin 
 Eller, to keep for her child ; and I do hereby 
 promise to renounce any and all my claims to 
 the aforesaid Jefferson Griffin Eller." 
 
 It was only when Headlights was convinced 
 that the sheriff and his men would do no more 
 for her that she consented to make her mark to 
 this paper. She insisted upon her right to pay 
 before the six months, and Mr. Francis did not 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 333 
 
 venture to refuse. " Oh, let er have it her 
 way," said the widow; then, in an undertone to 
 Bulah, " Git shet of er now, an we kin gether 
 the chile an light out, don ye see ? " 
 
 So Headlights had her way, and signed ; and 
 every man on the boat who could write his 
 name witnessed, with a dim idea that he was 
 helping Cap n Bulah. 
 
 Having made her mark, Headlights strode up 
 to Jeff, who was still holding the boy. Bulah 
 would have stepped between them. 
 
 " I ain t aimin t hurt him," said the cotton- 
 picker. " Ye won t stop me kissin of him oncet, 
 will ye ? " 
 
 The two women glared at each other, proba 
 bly with as venomous feelings as those two his 
 toric dames who puzzled King Solomon. But 
 Jeff had said truly that Bulah was a fair-minded 
 woman. " Ye got the right to," said she. 
 
 Headlights bent over the baby with surpris 
 ing gentleness. She was so tall that it was easy 
 for her to reach his hair and his little averted 
 cheek as he clung to Jeff s neck. She whispered 
 something, of which Jeff only caught the words 
 " sorry " and " hurt ye," and immediately ran 
 off the boat so swiftly and recklessly that she 
 nearly fell into the water. 
 
 " Well, that critter ! " said the deputy, " she 
 come to me yesterday. She s got out with the 
 
334 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 fellow she ran off with. Lum Shinault was tell 
 ing me he heard he gave er the hickory, an 
 she drawed a knife on him. Now, she s back 
 with the rest of the Missouri folks, terrible anx 
 ious to git her baby ; she d orter b en anxious 
 a spell back, /take it." 
 
 After that day the Samuel Eller made her 
 regular trips round the Bend ; but no one ever 
 saw the little white curls dancing over the deck. 
 A good many people believed that Jeffy really 
 was on board ; if so, he never came out of hiding. 
 Headlights did not go away. She stayed on, 
 picking cotton, until the ragged white streamers 
 were all stripped off the brown stalks. Two or 
 three times Jeff caught a glimpse of her prowl 
 ing about his own fields. He never attempted 
 to speak to her, and she gave him nothing more 
 than a scowl. He was watching her secretly. 
 He was sure that she must be saving money ; 
 for she was sober on Christmas Day, when the 
 rest of the cotton-pickers were a howling mob, 
 and, for that matter, there were very few steady 
 legs left on the plantation. One day, visiting 
 Bulah and S leeny on the boat (good-by, now, 
 to the happy times when Jeff could watch Bu 
 lah, with Jeffy on her knees, on the other side 
 of his own fireplace), he observed that Bulah 
 seemed troubled. Finally, she brought out a 
 little package, and told him that while the boat 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 335 
 
 was unloading at Newport, Jeffy had been allowed 
 to walk in the street with S leeny (" for the 
 chile s gitting right puny cooped up so, and I 
 had to see to the loadin "), and a woman had 
 spoken to him and given him the package. 
 " S leeny don t know her by sight, but she sus- 
 picioned twas her, an she called her to stop 
 and take the things back, but she run too quick. 
 See, Jeff ! " 
 
 She displayed a flimsy red silk handkerchief 
 and a child s harp. 
 
 " Yes, hit war Headlights," said Jeff, gravely ; 
 " she bought em at the store. Frank Brand 
 tole me. I lowed then she got em for Jeffy 
 Law me, Bulah, what ye doin ? " 
 
 He caught Bulah s hand just in time to pre 
 vent harp and handkerchief going into the Black 
 River. 
 
 "Leirnne lone, Jeff," cried she, with flashing 
 eyes ; " Jeffy s b en talkin of the critter ever 
 sence." 
 
 " Oh, hush, honey," said Jeff, soothingly ; 
 " t is rilin , but don throw the critter s pore 
 little truck overboard. She got sorter feeliii s, 
 I expeck, too." 
 
 " I hate her," said Bulah ; " I d like to kill 
 her!" 
 
 But she dropped the bundle on the deck in 
 stead of in the water. 
 
336 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 All this made Jeff feverishly anxious, for he 
 was positive that if Headlights did not go away 
 Bulah would sell the boat and hide herself some 
 where with the child ; besides, he had a dread 
 of some collision between the two women. " An 
 ef Bulah mixes with Headlights she 11 shore git 
 killed up ! " thought Jeff. Therefore it was a 
 mighty relief to him, one day, to see the whole 
 troop of the cotton-pickers, Headlights in their 
 midst, ploughing through the mud on the road to 
 the railway station, six miles away. He rode the 
 whole muddy way after them, to see them safely 
 on the train bound for Missouri. Then he rode 
 home, singing. Possibly he was jubilant too 
 soon, since Headlights got out at the next vil 
 lage. 
 
 Jeff went straight to the landing. He heard 
 the refrain of the " roustabouts " aimless song, 
 
 " Four o clock done come at las ! " 
 
 and he could see the cotton-bales bounding 
 along the plank ; down among them he ran, light 
 as a boy. 
 
 " She s gone ! " cried Bulah ; " I see it in yo 
 face ! Oh, Jeff, take us home, Jeffy s plum sick. 
 Simmons can take the boat to Black Rock." 
 
 Of course she went ; and, late as it was then, 
 Jeff rode ten miles for the doctor. The next 
 morning he rode again to the railway station, to 
 telegraph to a larger town for some medicines. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 337 
 
 He must wait for the train to bring them, so 
 that it was after noon before he could start 
 homeward. The road is the worst in the coun 
 try-side, and just then, to use the phrase of the 
 bottom, " t wud mire a snipe." He was crawl 
 ing along, two thirds of the way home, when his 
 mule shied, with a great splash, and nearly 
 reared off the roadway. " Dad gum ye ! " 
 cried Jeff, irritably, " whut by grabs, hit s a 
 human critter ! " 
 
 The cause of the beast s fright lay athwart 
 some logs, her skirts trailing in the mud. No 
 sooner had Jeff lifted her head than he uttered 
 a loud cry : " My Lord, it s Headlights ! " 
 
 There was no response ; the head lay on his 
 arm like a stone ; evidently she had sat down to 
 rest, and swooned. Jeff heartily wished that 
 she were dead instead ; but he could not leave 
 her thus. He glanced disconsolately about him 
 at his mule improving the unexpected leisure 
 to munch cane-leaves ; at the brilliant, desolate 
 sweep of swamp, silver-trees, green moss, gray 
 pools of water, and the rotten corduroy raised a 
 little out of the ooze. " Wai, the Lord s mus- 
 siful," groaned Jeff, " they s a right smart er 
 water roun , onyhow." 
 
 He got Headlights s head in a more comforta 
 ble position, and splashed water on her face un 
 til a gasp arrested his hand and she looked diz- 
 
338 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 zily up at him, murmuring, " Then I done got 
 thar. How s baby?" 
 
 "Git whar? You in the swamp, gyurl. 
 Wake up ! " 
 
 Headlights did sit up, and moaned. 
 
 " I cud n t make out," she muttered. " Lem- 
 me lone, Jeff Griffin ; how come ye done slopped 
 me all over ? I 11 shore be chillin ter-rnorrer." 
 
 " Ye 11 shore be chillin ef ye don git up 
 outen this yere slosh." 
 
 " How s my baby ? least ye mought tell me 
 that much." 
 
 "Wai, he are plum bad, then," answered 
 Jeff, gloomily angrily, too, since he saw noth 
 ing for him to do but to put Headlights on his 
 mule and walk himself ; it would be like murder 
 to leave her in the swamp, and the mule could 
 not carry two through such mud. Yet he felt a 
 twinge of pity as he saw the tears rolling down 
 Headlights s cheeks at his words. " Ye mus git 
 on my mule," said he, more kindly ; " ye cayn t 
 walk, an ye mus git outen the swamp." 
 
 She struggled to her feet and let him help her 
 into the saddle, saying, " I 11 ride a spell, then I 
 kin walk." Had she attempted to ride in the 
 usual feminine posture, she would certainly have 
 fallen off the mule, being nearly unconscious; 
 luckily, neither Jeff nor she thought of such a 
 thing. By and by she began to shiver violently. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 339 
 
 " Thar t is, wust sorter chill, an we uns* 
 house the nighest by two miles ! " At the idea 
 he groaned aloud, for the relentless hospitality of 
 the bottom left him no alternative. 
 
 "Mist Griffin," spoke Headlights, feebly, 
 " I 11 get down, ef you tired. I kin make out. 
 On y won t ye tell me more bout my baby, 
 fust?" 
 
 " Wai, Headlights, he come down yistiddy, an* 
 his fever ain t cooled, an doctor, he s skeered 
 er pneumony ; but he says he are a heap apter 
 ter git up by it fur havin of such good tendance 
 like his like Bulah s and S leeny s. Don t 
 ye go fur to cry, Headlights ; ye shake all over, 
 an I cayn t hole ye ! " 
 
 Headlights somehow choked her sobs. Jeff 
 went on : " Now, Headlights, I m goin cyar ye 
 home with me, case ye ain t fit t walk. Now be 
 ye goin t devil us, onyhow ? try fur t toll Jeffy 
 way an " 
 
 " Naw, naw, I ain t no short ; l I fight fair. I 
 wud n t do ye sicher way." 
 
 " Wai," muttered Jeff to himself, " I expeck 
 S leeny 11 be r arin on me, an Bulah but Bu- 
 lah s fair-minded. Onyhow, cayn t be holped, 
 an they 11 git over it, some way." 
 
 With this reflection, which has eked out many 
 a man s courage on the brink of a tussle with 
 1 No cheat. 
 
340 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 his womankind, Jeff waded along. A good deal 
 of the time he had to hold Headlights on the 
 mule or she would have slipped off through 
 sheer weakness, and all the while she appeared 
 to be in a kind of stupor. Once he asked her 
 how she happened to hear of Jeffy s illness ; how 
 she came to be at the station. She said : " I 
 came ter git Jeffy ; I knowed ye d have him 
 back by ye, quick s ye lowed I done lit out. 
 I heerd the men t the deppo a-talkin bout 
 ye. I walked from Hoxie on the track ; started 
 afore sun up." He thought that her mind must 
 be wandering. 
 
 It was a dismal journey, tedious to the last 
 degree, but at last the mule turned in at his 
 own gate, and S leeny, hearing the hounds cho 
 rus of welcome, ran out to meet him. She 
 lifted up her hands in horror when she recog 
 nized his companion. " My, my, my, Jeff Grif 
 fin ! are ye clean bereft ? " 
 
 " You hush ! " whispered Jeff. " I did n t ax 
 er. I run up with er in the woods. She war 
 layin on a log dead s l a hammer. I cud n t 
 leave er that-away, cud I ? " 
 
 " Guv me the med cines, an you cyar er 
 straight t Mis Brand s." 
 
 1 They have a peculiar use of the word " dead " for " sense 
 less." " He knocked him dead," they will say, or, " She was 
 plum dead for an hour." 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 341 
 
 " I cayn t. Look at er : she are chillin , this 
 minnit." 
 
 Headlights had staggered into the gallery; 
 now she would have fallen, had not both bro 
 ther and sister caught her. "Ye see!" said 
 Jeff. 
 
 "What 11 Bulah say?" groaned S leeny ; 
 " law me, ain t she got nuff trubbels an T trib- 
 erlations thouten you a-pilin more onto her ? " 
 
 But this was only the futile last stroke of 
 a vanquished fighter, the natural impulse of the 
 woman to find the man to blame ; S leeny had 
 her own conscience, and Jeff knew that she 
 would make no more objections. In fact, she 
 helped him to get Headlights to the fire, and 
 got the quinine and whiskey before she went to 
 Bulah. Headlights had revived a little and 
 was sitting in the armchair, when Bulah softly 
 opened the door and came in. Jeff ventured one 
 furtive glance, and began to poke the fire. 
 
 " Don t take on, Bulah," begged he, with that 
 artless freedom from tact which is the right of 
 his sex ; " onyhow, she s Jeffy s mother " 
 
 " I wanter know bout my baby," interrupted 
 Headlights. 
 
 Bulah s chin went up a little : " I expect you 
 mean my Jeffy ; he s mighty bad " 
 
 "Kin I look on him jest oncet jes fur 
 a minnit ? " 
 
342 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 " He d most like be scared up to see a stran 
 ger," said Bulah, coldly. 
 
 " Law me," cried the helpless man between 
 the two women, " Bulah, how kin ye be so 
 cruel ? " 
 
 It was the first word of reproach that he had 
 ever spoken to her, and it must have gone 
 straight to her heart, for she put both hands 
 there quickly, with a sort of gasp, like a person 
 stabbed ; a little flicker of color came into her 
 cheeks and went out, leaving her extremely pale. 
 Jeff was already in an agony of remorse, cry 
 ing, " Naw, naw, ye ain t ! It s me that s 
 cruel." 
 
 " Yes, I am ; yes, I was," said Bulah. " Come, 
 Headlights, ye cayn t walk; lean on me. Ye 
 mus jes look at him an come out ! " 
 
 " I kin walk," answered Headlights, shortly. 
 Walk she did, though unsteadily, across the 
 gallery into the other room. It was the pretty 
 room, with the roses on the wall-paper and the 
 sky-blue ceiling. S leeny could have fainted 
 when she beheld that tall shape, all wet and 
 muddy, and the wild face and burning eyes. 
 Headlights, not venturing to advance, for fear 
 of awakening the little sleeper, stood on the 
 threshold, where she could see the bed, and 
 gazed with an agony of longing at the flaxen 
 curls and flushed cheek on the pillow. After 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 343 
 
 a moment, she bent down very carefully, and 
 began to remove her miserable shoes. S leeny 
 almost screamed to see Bulah kneel and take off 
 those dreadful, mud-soaked shoes herself. 
 
 " Though, to be shore," reflected S leeny, 
 " they d of p intedly tracked the floor. Mabbe 
 that s how come she done it." So little do the 
 ones nearest us know of the strange and com 
 plex emotions which war in our motives. But 
 Jeff understood. His wet eyes met Bulah s, 
 and afterward she remembered his look ; though 
 then her own feelings were swept away by the 
 spectacle of the overpowering feeling before 
 her. Headlights crept up to the bed. She 
 bent over the sleeper ; and the desperate misery 
 in her face touched even S leeny. Her breath 
 came in gasps, with the fierce pain which she" 
 would not show. At that moment, Bulah, liv 
 ing over again her own desolation, felt a horrible 
 kinship with this mother, suffering as she had 
 suffered ; yet all the while her heart seemed to 
 stand still with fear and impatience, lest Jeffy 
 should wake and be frightened. After all, 
 Headlights only kissed a stray lock of hair. 
 Then she stole out of the room, and, before they 
 could stop her, ran out of the house, just as she 
 was. 
 
 Jeff and Bulah found her in the cow-shed, 
 crouched on a pile of hay. Jeff tried to say 
 
344 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 something comforting, but he stopped as soon 
 as she turned her face. 
 
 Headlights spoke : " Yes, I know he 11 git 
 well. T ain t that. I seen im. T ain t no 
 good me hopin fur ter take him way. I cud 
 never have thin s fixed up so good fur im when 
 he s sick. He s puny. He d die up, shore." 
 She drew in her breath and said, with a mighty 
 effort, " Ye kin hev him fur good. I won t pes 
 ter ye no more." 
 
 "Oh, my Lord!" said Bulah. The tears 
 blinded her, and they were tears for Headlights ; 
 she was disarmed by her adversary s surrender. 
 " Come, ye poor thing," said she, gently ; " come 
 in an get rested, an then ye can help me tend 
 him." 
 
 In her turn, she had made the greatest con 
 cession in her power. Headlights rose submis 
 sively to follow her, but before she took a step 
 she touched Bulah s arm, saying, " They s one 
 thing more you uns 11 be gittin merried." 
 
 " Me ! " Bulah said huskily, and choked. 
 
 " Ye got you mind mighty sot on er, ain t 
 ye ? " said Headlights to Jeff. 
 
 Surely it was his good angel that prompted 
 his answer : " It b en sot on er all the days I 
 knowed her, Headlights. They ain t nobuddy 
 on earth like er, to my mind." 
 
 " An ye jes done got er," said Headlights. 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 345 
 
 " "Wai, I don keer, all I want s fur ye ter 
 prommus ter be allus good ter my boy, what- 
 sumever " 
 
 " We will," said Bulah, solemnly. " Now, 
 come on in." 
 
 Bulah led her into the house. She was burn 
 ing with fever. Bulah put her to bed, where, 
 almost instantly, she fell asleep. But it was the 
 widow from Georgia and Sleeny who entered 
 presently, bearing each a stick, and, as it were, 
 fished the outcast s clothes from the chair, with 
 countenances on which were vividly painted the 
 sensations natural to two such notable house 
 wives, and bore them out into the yard, and 
 hung them on the line to air. 
 
 " An ef it do come on to rain," remarked the 
 widow, complacently, " it 11 holp t clean em all 
 the mo ! " 
 
 Bulah had gone back to Jeffy. Jeff whis 
 pered to her that he was sure that the boy was 
 better his breathing was easier, he was sleep 
 ing quietly. " An look," said Jeff, " them little 
 curls er his n is plum wet : the fever s cooled ; 
 he won git pneumony ay f ter all ! " Bulah 
 looked. She sank down on her knees, and Jeff 
 knew what she was doing ; his own heart swelled 
 with gratitude, not the less fervent because con 
 fused and dumb. 
 
 Headlights was fated to keep her word. Her 
 
346 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 chill developed into pneumonia, and as Mrs. 
 Brand (who came over to nurse her) observed 
 truly, " Cotton-pickers never had no ruggedness, 
 an she cud n t pear ter git up by it." She 
 added : " Headlights war n t a bit ill ; jes iz 
 easy, patient critter like ye ever seen ; did n t 
 know nuthin most er the time." 
 
 Once, just before the end,, she seemed con 
 scious. Jeffy had been brought in to see her 
 polite little Jeffy, who had been well drilled in 
 his lesson beforehand. " Po lady, so sick," 
 said Jeffy ; " Jeffy sorry. Make it aw well ; " 
 and, giving her the only remedy his babyish 
 mind knew, he took her face between his little 
 soft hands, and kissed it. 
 
 The sleeper stirred in her sleep. " Yes, 
 yes, baby," she murmured drowsily, " mammy 
 knows. T is cole in the cotton. Mammy cyar 
 im home. Have a fire." Then she opened her 
 eyes wide and saw them all. The spark in her 
 dim eyes seemed to glow again, but no longer in 
 anger or pain ; she looked at Bulah, steadily, 
 with the strange, peaceful, solemn gaze of the 
 dying. 
 
 " Yes, I will," said Bulah, as though she had 
 been asked a question ; indeed, it seemed to 
 Bulah that she had. 
 
 Headlights fumbled at her throat, with an 
 old shoestring that was around it ; when Bulah 
 
THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 347 
 
 drew out a leather bag, she smiled. " Fur 
 him," she murmured, and her hand groped for 
 the child. Almost before it touched him, she 
 was away from him and all earthly troubles, in 
 the merciful shadows ; and so gently did those 
 waters of oblivion submerge her soul that no 
 ripple was left to mark when it finally sank 
 forever. 
 
 " An I clare," avowed Mrs. Brand to S leeny, 
 " I are plum surprised by myseff, I b en cryin 
 fur that ar critter like she war my own kin. But 
 she war so sorter bidable an decent, an done 
 the little trick so decent, ayfter all ! I sw ar 
 some folkses don git no fair show in this 
 world!" 
 
 " Bulah been cryin too," said S leeny. " Wai, 
 I don see no call fur grievin . All I wisht are 
 that she d of leff some money fur the buryin . 
 Bulah, she will have Mr. Dake make one er his. 
 fust-rate coffins, though I say his second-bes is 
 plenty good miff. Jeff done gone fur t now." 
 
 " She guv a little bag t Bulah ; whar s it at, 
 Bulah?" 
 
 " It s Jeffy s," said Bulah, showing it, " but I 
 don t guess there s any harm in lookin " 
 
 " My word, no ! " cried the widow, with her 
 fingers inside. The contents of the bag were a 
 roll of bank-bills and a folded paper. The roll 
 contained twenty-seven dollars. The paper was 
 
348 THE MORTGAGE ON JEFFY. 
 
 a copy of the mortgage on Jeffy. The widow 
 from Georgia dropped into a chair, alternately 
 shook her head and waved her hands, and fin 
 ished by wiping her eyes, without saying a word. 
 
 " My, my, my ! " cried S leeny, " ain t it a 
 main mussy the critter died ; she cud of taken 
 Jeffy way ! " 
 
 But Bulah, who had grown very pale, said, 
 " S leeny, ye don t know. That woman trusted 
 me. I m a-goin to tell Jeffy all bout er when 
 I give him this. Headlights, can ye hear me ? 
 You paid the mortgage, an he b lougs to you, 
 too ! " 
 

RETURN 
 
 CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 
 
 202 Main Library 
 
 642-3403 
 
 LOAN PERIOD 1 
 HOME USE 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 
 
 1- month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405 
 
 6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desl 
 
 Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW 
 
 INTER-LfB^AR > 
 
 LOAN 
 
 MAY 1 2 1977 
 
 t, 
 
 
 FORM NO. DD 6, 40m, 6 76 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELE N 
 BERKELEY, CA 94720 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY