1-NRLF 
 
 I! Hi 
 
 
Up Terrapin River 
 
 A Romance ^ 
 
 By Opie Read 
 
 Chicago and New York * * * 
 
 Rand, McNally & Company 
 
Copyright, 1888, by Opie P. Read. 
 
i 
 UP TERRAPIN RIVER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Terrapin River flows through the north 
 ern part of Arkansas. It is a small stream, 
 winding its way among hills, which here 
 with graceful slope, and there with rugged 
 brows, overlook the smooth and gliding 
 water. The water, when the current is 
 not swollen, is so clear that the stream 
 suggests the blended flow of countless 
 dewdrops. The brooks that flow into 
 Terrapin River seem to float down sun 
 beams, gathered in the hill-tops. Up the 
 " hollow," the cow-bell s mellow clang 
 floats away in slowly dying echo. The 
 spring frog struggles through a miniature 
 forest of rank ferns ; the dew that has 
 gathered on the rugged cliffs, trickles 
 
 (5) 
 
 MG373GO 
 
6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 slowly down at the rising sun s command, 
 like tears flowing along the wrinkles of a 
 time-worn face. The soft air plays in 
 gentle hide-and-seek, and the wild rose, 
 leaning over, bathes its blushing face in 
 the mirroring stream. 
 
 The country through which Upper 
 Terrapin River flows is slow of agricult 
 ural development. Wild hogs abound in 
 the cane-brakes, and on the hill-sides, where 
 the dogwood saplings tangle their bloom 
 ing boughs in perfumed network, the 
 bristling deer kills the rattlesnake, and 
 the wild turkey-gobbler struts in barbaric 
 vanity. The shriek of the steam-whistle 
 has never disturbed the blue jay s noon 
 tide nap, but the water-mill, with its rhyth 
 mic splash, grinds the corn which the 
 whistling boy, barefoot and astride the 
 sack, brings from over the hills. 
 
 The rankest of corn grows in the 
 "bottoms," and on the uplands the pass 
 ing breezes steal the fragrance of the 
 mellowest of horse-apples. The people, 
 the most of them at least, are rude of 
 
Up Terrapin River. 7 
 
 speech. To them the smooth sentences 
 of culture are as over-ripe strawberries 
 unfit for use. The popular estimate of a 
 man s mental strength in this neighbor 
 hood is based upon the roughness of his 
 expressions. There are schools, but, save 
 in the winter, they are ill attended, for the 
 children, so soon as they are old enough 
 to study, are also large enough to lend 
 important aid to the cultivation of the 
 crops. Among those people there are 
 many peculiar characters. They know of 
 no country but America, and are there 
 fore strictly American. They have a half- 
 formed idea that there is an outside world, 
 and that Andrew Jackson whipped it ; and 
 tradition tells them that George Washing 
 ton became involved in a quarrel with a 
 king, an awful monster with horns of gold, 
 boxed his jaws, knocked off his horns, and 
 sent him howling home. Tiieir ignorance 
 is not of the pernicious sort, but of that 
 humorous kind which finds bright laugh 
 ter clinging to the very semblance of a 
 joke. 
 
8 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 One afternoon a boy was plowing 1 corn 
 in a field not far from the river. He was 
 apparently about sixteen years old. Under 
 the sunburn on his face there could be 
 seen the soft color of sadness. He was 
 tall and well formed, and his eyes, when 
 he looked up to tell the time of day by 
 the sun, showed, by their wide-open earn 
 estness if there be anything in such sur 
 mises that his nature was deep and his 
 disposition frank. He had reached the 
 end of the row, near a rail fence along 
 whose zig-zag way there ran a road half 
 overgrown with briers, and, after turning 
 his horse about, was fanning himself with 
 his broad-brim straw hat, when someone 
 called out : 
 
 " Halloa, young man!" 
 
 The plowboy looked around and saw a 
 man standing on the road-side, with his 
 arms resting on the top rail of the fence. 
 The man was of uncommon height, and 
 
 o 
 
 his hair and bushy beard were of such 
 fiery red as they caught a sunbeam that 
 came down through the wavering boughs 
 
Up Terrapin River. 9 
 
 of an oak, that the boy, bursting into a 
 laugh, cried out: " Ef you ain t on fire, I 
 never seed er bresh heap a burnin ." 
 
 " Well," the man replied, with a smile of 
 good nature, " I m not exactly burning, 
 but I am pretty warm. Drive your horse 
 up there in the shade, and come over and 
 sit down awhile. You look as if you are 
 tired, and besides, I feel disposed to talk 
 to someone." 
 
 " I am tired," the boy rejoined, "but ef 
 my uncle wuz ter ketch me er settin er- 
 roun , he mout norate it about that I m 
 lazy." 
 
 " The fresh-stirred soil shows that you 
 have plowed many furrows to day. If your 
 uncle should circulate such a report," he 
 added, with another good-natured smile, 
 " I will go with you about the neighbor 
 hood, and assist you in correcting it. 
 Come, for I know that in talking with 
 me, you would not be ill-spending your 
 time." 
 
 " Then I reckon you air a school 
 teacher." 
 
io Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " No, I am nothing nothing but an 
 everyday sort of wayward man." 
 
 " BTeve I ll jine you wunst jest fur 
 luck." 
 
 He drove his horse into a fence-corner, 
 where the tall alder bushes cast an inviting 
 shadow, and joined the man, who had sat 
 down with his back against a tree. 
 
 " What is your name ?" the man asked. 
 
 " John Lucas. What s yo n ?" 
 
 " Sam Potter." 
 
 " You air a mighty big man, Mr. Potter, 
 an I reckon you d be a powerful fine han 
 ter break a yoke uv steers. Peers ter me 
 like ef I wuz ez strong ez you air, I d go 
 roun the country an grab er-holt uv cat 
 tle, an 1 hold em jest fur the fun uv seein 
 em kick." He laughed boisterously, and 
 then, when his many shouts had ceased, 
 Potter saw the soft color of sadness, under 
 the sunburn on his face. 
 
 11 Just now you spoke of your uncle," 
 said Potter ; " do you live with him ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. My daddy an mammy wu/ 
 drownded a long time ergo, in the river 
 
Up Terrapin River. 1 1 
 
 up yander at the fo d. Did you come that 
 er way?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you see er tall rock stickin up 
 outen the groun?" 
 
 " I think I did." 
 
 Wall, I put that rock tharwhen I got 
 big ernuff. It s ther tombstone." 
 
 " Are they buried there ?" 
 
 " No ; they wuz washed erway, an 
 never wuz found, an I put that rock thar 
 becaze it is the place whar they wuz last 
 seed. Thar s a caterpiller on yo neck. 
 Let me bresh him off." 
 
 "John, I rather like you." 
 
 " Much erbleeged ter you, sir/ 
 
 "And I think that there is about you 
 excellent material for the making of a 
 man." 
 
 " I dunno; but that s what old Alf says." 
 
 "Who is old Alf?" 
 
 " He s a nigger; but lemme tell you thar 
 ain t no whiter man nowhar than he is. 
 He works fur my uncle, ur ruther sorter 
 craps it on the sheers. He don t peer to 
 
12 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 kere fur nobody much but me an his 
 daughter, that s all crippled up with the 
 rheumatiz, an when she cries in the night 
 with her pains, it don t make no diffunce 
 how hard he has worked durin the day, he 
 takes her up in his arms, an walks erbout 
 with her till she hushes. That s what I 
 call a white man. Whar air you frum, Mr. 
 Potter?" 
 
 " From almost everywhere." 
 
 " Whar do you live ?" 
 
 " Nearly everywhere." 
 
 " Ain t you got nothin ter bind you 
 down ter one place ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you ain t ez well off ez old Alf, 
 fur he has got that little crippled-up gal." 
 
 Potter bent upon the boy a look of 
 contemplation, and addressing himself 
 more than his companion, said: " Ah, 
 young man, you do not know the force of 
 your own philosophy. From the woods 
 there often come the simple words of 
 truest wisdom. Any tie of life that holds 
 us to someone, although at times its 
 
Up Terrapin River. 13 
 
 straining may fall little short of agony, is 
 better far than slip-shod freedom from 
 responsibilty." 
 
 " You talk like er preacher," said the 
 boy. "Air you one ?" 
 
 " No. As I told you, I am not anything, 
 except a tramp. I used to be a sort of 
 lawyer, but my neglect of law texts and 
 love for other books drove my clients 
 away. What s that noise ?" 
 
 " It s the dinner ho n, an I ain t sorry 
 ter hear it, nuther. Won t you come ter 
 the house, an take pot-luck with us ? Ain t 
 fur. See," he added ; " its right over 
 yander on the hill." 
 
 " I will go with you, John, for to tell 
 the truth, I am as hungry as a bear. Wait 
 a moment until I get my carpet-bag. 
 There is nothing in it but a shirt and a 
 few old books nothing in it to eat, I 
 well know. 
 
 When they reached the stable, Potter 
 climbed up into the loft, to throw down 
 some corn and fodder, while John was 
 taking the gear off of the horse. 
 
14 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Now we ll go ter the house," said 
 John, when Potter had come down, "but 
 ez we walk erlong lemme tell you suthin . 
 No matter whut Aunt Liz says, don t pay 
 no ertention to her. Mebbe she won t 
 say nuthin much, but ef she s on one uv 
 her tantrums, ez Uncle Jeff calls em, she s 
 mighty ap ter make you bat yo eyes like 
 dust wuz er-blowin yo way, but keep on 
 er battin an don t say nuthin . You mout 
 think that she is the audationist woman 
 you ever seed, an it mout pear like she s 
 goin ter eat you bodatiously up, but ez I 
 said befo keep on e battin an don t say 
 nuthin !" 
 
 Just as they were entering the yard, a 
 woman s shrill voice cried out: "My 
 stairs, John, who on the top uv the yeth 
 have you picked up this time ? Wall, ef he 
 ain t er sight fur ter see I wish I may 
 never stir agin." 
 
 " Keep on er battin ," John whispered. 
 
 " Fur pity sake," the woman continued, 
 " is he er red shanghai ur old Satan s 
 whut not ? John, I oughter bump yo head 
 
Up Terrapin River. 15 
 
 ergin the wall fur pickin up ever ragtag 
 an bob-tail that comes erlong." 
 
 " Madam," said Potter, making a pro 
 found bow, " I hope I do not intrude." 
 
 " Lissen at him ! My stairs, he s the 
 biggest thing I ever seed lessen it wuz 
 on wheels." 
 
 " Hush, an keep on er battin ," whis 
 pered John. 
 
 " I never seed the like in my borned 
 days," the woman went on. " The shotes 
 got in the garden, an momoxed up the 
 cabbages, an now the fetchtaked bucket 
 had to git off down in the well. Pap, he s 
 gone ter the blacksmith shop, an old Alf 
 is er-pokin roun summers, an thar aint 
 er body on the place ter do nothin . Shew 
 thar ! The fetchtaked hens is boun ter 
 scratch up the red pepper, an the red ca f 
 has run agin the corner uv the fence an 
 mighty nigh killed hisse f. Laws er 
 massy, it do pear like eve thing is goin 
 ter rack and ruin." 
 
 Potter, as he stood looking at her, 
 thought that he had never before seen so 
 
1 6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 strange a creature. She was angular, and, 
 using a country -expression descriptive of 
 extreme leanness, was rawboned. Her 
 iron-gray hair stood out in frowsy fierce 
 ness, and her fading black eyes seemed 
 never to have been lighted with a glow of 
 gentleness. She had a snarling habit of 
 wrinkling her long, sharp nose, and at 
 times all her ill-nature would apparently 
 find settlement on a hair-covered mole 
 that grew on her chin. 
 
 " Madam," said Potter, " I don t think 
 that I can repair all the damage that has 
 been done, but if you will show me the well 
 I will make an effort to get the bucket." 
 
 " Yander," she replied, pointing. 
 
 He went to the well, climbed down the 
 rough stones of the wall by placing his 
 feet on each side, and soon came up with 
 the bucket. 
 
 " Wall, ef he ain t got it, hope I may 
 never stir agin," the woman exclaimed. 
 "Yander is pap." 
 
 A man well advanced in years dis 
 mounted from a swayback horse at the 
 
Up Terrapin River. 17 
 
 gate, threw a plow point on the ground 
 and came forward. So far from being 
 ill-looking, there was something comical 
 about him. 
 
 " Uncle Jeff," said the boy, "this here 
 man s name is Potter. I met him over at 
 the fiel an axed him ter come ter dinner 
 with me, an he lowed he wuz as hungry 
 as a bar." 
 
 " How air you, sir? Glad to make yo 
 quaintance. We ain t got no great show 
 uv suthin ter eat, but I reckin we kin 
 sorter dam up yo appetite er leetle." 
 
 " Pap," said the woman, " erbody ter 
 hear you talk would think that we never 
 did have nuthin ter eat. I spize ter see 
 er man ack like he didn t have no raisin ." 
 
 " Yas," the old fellow replied, " but I d 
 ruther see that than ter see er woman 
 with the tanterums." 
 
 She cast a quick glance at him, wrin 
 kled her nose, and then turning away, 
 said : 
 
 "Come on in now, an let vo vidults 
 stop yo mouth." 
 
 2 
 
1 8 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 During the meal, Potter talked with 
 the spirit of such entertainment, that at 
 times the old man sat in open-mouth heed 
 of his words ; and the old woman, forget 
 ful of her snappishness, bestowed upon 
 him many glances of not unkind attention. 
 After dinner, as they sat under the trees 
 in the yard, the old man, addressing John, 
 said : 
 
 " Ez it is Saturday evenin , you mout 
 ez well knock off yo plowin fur the bal- 
 unce uv the day. Me an yo aunt Liz is 
 goin* over ter Frazier s ter stay all night, 
 an go frum thar ter meetin ter-mor . 
 Thar s plenty ter eat cooked, an ef yo 
 frien wants ter stay here with you, all 
 right." 
 
 The boy s face lighted up with a smile, 
 and turning to Potter, he said : 
 
 " Wish you would stay." 
 
 " I will," replied Potter. 
 
 When old Jeff and his wife had gone, 
 when the horses hoofs, rattling over the 
 flinty road, were no longer heard, John, 
 awakening from a seeming reverie, arose, 
 
Up Terrapin River. 19 
 
 placed his hands with a sort of tender 
 touch on the back of Potter s chair, and 
 said : 
 
 " I am powerful glad you air goin* to 
 stay, for you air the first great big man 
 that ever tuck the trouble ter talk much 
 ter me. I aint never been cuffed erroun 
 none, but thar is a heap er ways to 
 make er boy feel bad without cuffin him 
 erroun . Not understandin him is er 
 putty sho way uv hurtin his feelin s." 
 
 " You are right, and I wonder that a 
 boy of your surroundings should have such 
 ripe conclusions I mean that I am sur 
 prised at your good sense." 
 
 " I hope I don t look like er fool." 
 
 " Oh, no," Potter quickly rejoined ; 
 "there is at times about your face a glow 
 of struggling inspiration I mean that I 
 like your face. If we were together very 
 long I think I could teach you to under 
 stand my odd expressions." 
 
 " It would be ez good ez understandin 
 uv er book, wouldn t it ?" 
 
 " Well, I could help you to understand 
 
 2 
 
2O Up Terrapin River. 
 
 books, and books would help you to under 
 stand me." 
 
 John sat down, and Potter, glancing at 
 him, saw that on his face there lay a 
 strange expression that through the soft 
 color of sadness a ray of hope was shin 
 ing. At length the boy said : 
 
 " Uncle Jeff told me the other day that 
 the best way fur er boy ter make er man 
 outen hisse f is ter git out an hussle. He 
 ken git ernuther boy ter plow for his 
 vidults an clothes. Let me go with you." 
 
 " What, do you mean that you really 
 want to go with me ?" 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 " Let me lie down under this tree and 
 sleep a little while, John. When I awake 
 we will talk over the matter. The fact is 
 I have been walking all day and am very 
 tired." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Had Potter been less tired, to sleep 
 would not have required an effort. 
 Nature s noises, it seemed, had conspired 
 to " weigh the eyelids down" with pleasant 
 drowsiness. The " chatter-jack," clinging 
 to the nodding iron-weed s purple top, 
 trilled his carol in praise of midsummer. 
 The cat-bird, with soft nursing song, 
 taught her young ones among the trumpet 
 vines ; and all the sounds were gathered 
 up and borne away by breezes that brought 
 sweetened scents from gullied hill-sides 
 where larkspurs grew. 
 
 The boy sat gazing at his new-found 
 friend, and with that innate admiration of 
 the powerful, which is felt alike by the 
 savage and the cultivated man, contem 
 plated his great chest and mighty arms. 
 Nature s sleep-wooing sounds began to 
 
22 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 affect him. He nodded, and felt himself 
 sliding from the chair, but making no 
 effort to regain his seat, he stretched him 
 self upon the grass and slept. 
 
 When John opened his eyes, he saw 
 Potter sitting on a chair looking at him. 
 
 " Well, my young friend, have you 
 enjoyed your nap ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Seein 1 you sleep so easy, 
 made me sleepy. Now," he continued 
 as he got up, " let s talk erbout me goin 
 with you." 
 
 "All right. I have just thought of a 
 plan that will be better for us than to stroll 
 about the country. There, I see you are 
 disappointed. Let me explain my plan. 
 I thought that we might rent a small farm 
 somewhere in this neighborhood, and 
 together cultivate it. We would not per 
 mit our work to interfere with necessary 
 pleasure. We would not strive to make 
 money, but would compel our farm to 
 render us liberal support. In season we 
 could hunt and fish, and beside our own 
 fire-place, we could grow wise in the study 
 
Up Terrapin River. 23 
 
 of books. I would be your teacher. You 
 spoke of the negro, old Alf. Let him and 
 his daughter go with us. After a few 
 years you would be fitted to go out into 
 the world. Ah, your eyes brighten. You 
 approve of the plan ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. If you will learn me how to 
 read I ll go anywhar with you." 
 
 " I will take as much pains with you as 
 if you were my son. You may wonder 
 why I wish to settle down in such an out- 
 of-the-way place. After awhile you shall 
 know I hope." 
 
 " Why do you say you hope ; kain t 
 you tell me now ?" 
 
 "No, not now; perhaps never, but I 
 hope to well, we will talk about that 
 some other time. All I ask of you now 
 is to have perfect confidence in me. It is 
 a strange request, no doubt, but you shall 
 not regret the granting of it. Who is that 
 coming ?" 
 
 "Alf," the boy replied. 
 
 A negro, not very large, and yet seem 
 ingly possessed of much strength, climbed 
 
24 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 over the fence, hung a scythe in a 
 tree, and approached the place where 
 Potter and John were sitting. His face 
 was a study of good humor, tenderness, 
 and quaint thoughtfulness. He was more 
 intelligent than the average man of the 
 neighborhood. He had lived in other 
 parts of the country, and had, before the 
 war, belong to a North Carolina planter. 
 
 When John introduced him to Potter, 
 and when Potter had courteously taken 
 his hand, Alf, removing his straw hat, 
 made a profound bow and said : 
 
 " Fse mighty pleased ter meet you, sah, 
 caze I sees de true genermen er shinin on 
 yo 1 face ; but lemme tell you, white man, I 
 wouldn t hab you hit me wid dat fist o 
 yo n fur all de co n dars gwine ter be 
 raised in dis yere county fur two year. 
 Er haw, haw ! If dis man doan tote er 
 maul Voun wid him I neber seed one. 
 Look here, Mr. Potter, whar you frum, 
 nohow ?" 
 
 " As I told our friend John, I am from 
 nearly everywhere." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 25 
 
 " Yas, sah, I better b leve you is, better 
 b leve dat fur er fact, caze da ain t turnin 
 out sich men in dis yere munity at de 
 present ercasion, Haw, haw ! John, jes 
 look at dat man, will you ? Huh, er pus- 
 son would be flingin way his time ter 
 come projickin wid you ; but lemme tell 
 you, I likes er big man. Bar s a heep 
 mo 1 comferdence ter be put in er hoss den 
 dar is in er fox. Yas, sah, yas. How 
 long you gwinter circle Voun in dis yere 
 neighborhood, Mr. Potter?" 
 
 Potter replied by gradually unfolding 
 his plan. Old Alf listened with his head 
 turned to one side, like a blackbird that 
 hears the twanging of a fiddlestring. 
 When Potter had concluded, old Alf 
 scratched his head for a moment, and 
 then, addressing John, remarked : 
 
 " Dem s calkerlations, I tell you dat. 
 Whut does yo se l think erbout it?" 
 
 "Fits me so well," John replied, "that 
 I feel like gittin -out thar an caperin 
 round like er ca f. I ain t had no chances; 
 Alf, you know that. I have allus been 
 
26 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 tied down here with er putty short rope, 
 too, an ain t had er chance ter graze out 
 ter the end uv the line ; an I ve pulled 
 agin the rope till my neck is gettin putty 
 sore, yit knowin all the time that ef I 
 broke the rope I wouldn t know whar ter 
 go, nor what ter do arter I got thar." 
 
 " Talkin like er floserfer an er gogerfy 
 an er rithermertik, now, chile. I thinks 
 it will be er good thing myse f," old Alf 
 went on. " I knows what edycation is 
 knows what it is by de lack o it. Dar s 
 one man dat knows de full wuth o er 
 dollar, an dat s de man dat ain t got it." 
 
 " You can trust me," said Potter, " to 
 carry out with the utmost faithfulness my 
 part of the contract. Of course, I am a 
 stranger to both of you, but " 
 
 " Jes hoi on er minnit," Alf broke in. 
 " You ain t gwine tell us how hones you 
 is, I hope." 
 
 " Oh, no; for I do not claim to be more 
 honest than the average man is." 
 
 " Glad ter yere you say dat, fur de man 
 dat s allus er talkin bout how hones he 
 
Up Terrapin River. 27 
 
 is, an sorter wants ter prove fo anybody 
 dun sputed it, is spicious o de fack his- 
 se f, an de proof is tended ter vince his 
 own mine ez much ez it is de folks dat s 
 listenin ter him. Dar wuz er man in ole 
 North Kliney dat one day while ridin 
 long de pike come ter er toll gate. De 
 gate wuz open, but dar wa nt nobody at 
 de house. De man looked way cross de 
 fiel , he did, an he seed de toll-gate keeper 
 at work. He pitched out ober dar, er ha f 
 mile through de brilin sun, an gin de man 
 five cents. You se de hones man I eber 
 seed, said de toll-gate keeper, ter come 
 all ober dis hot groun ter gin me five 
 cents. Yas, said de traveler, sorter 
 drawin his mouf down like he been eatin 
 er green pear, nobody is mo hones den 
 I is. He went on er way, an sah, in three 
 munts from dat time he d dun been 
 sent ter de penytenchy fur stealin er 
 hoss." 
 
 Potter laughed with good-natured up 
 roar laughed so loud that a bee martin, 
 which had just alighted on the fence, 
 
28 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 flapped its wings in sudden fright and 
 flew away. 
 
 " I am not going about making a show 
 of honesty, Alf," said Potter, when the 
 echo of his merriment had died in the 
 valley. 
 
 " Glad to know dat, sah, mighty glad 
 ter know it ef I se gwine ter hab dealin s 
 wid you. I ken tell de right sort o man 
 putty nigh ever time. I ll go inter dis 
 rangement, caze we ll hab er lot o fun 
 long wid our work." 
 
 -Do you like to fish, Alf?" 
 
 " Do er yaller dog like er fried chicken?" 
 
 " Well, I rather think he does." 
 
 " Uh, huh. Wall den, I likes ter fish." 
 
 " Do you like to hunt ?" 
 
 " Do er muley steer like de sweet grass 
 dat grows in de cornder o de fence up 
 ergin de bottom rail ?" 
 
 "It strikes me that he does." 
 
 " Uh, huh. Wall, it strikes me dat I 
 likes ter hunt." 
 
 " Mr. Potter," said John, "the sun is er 
 goin down an its erbout time we wuz 
 
Up Terrapin River. 29 
 
 eatin uv er snack. You an Alf jest keep 
 on er talkin while I go an put the vidults 
 on the table." 
 
 " Dat s er monster fine boy," said Alf, 
 when John had gone into the house. 
 " He s sorter quiet now caze he ain t much 
 erquainted, but airter while he ll argy er 
 p int wid you. Dar ain t nobody dat s got 
 er better heart den he has, but lemme tell 
 you, dat white boy ain t erfeerd o ole 
 Nick hisse f." 
 
 " I have known him but a few hours," 
 Potter replied, " but I have become much 
 attached to him. Where is your daugh 
 ter, Alf?" 
 
 " Ober yander in er cabin on de hillside. 
 Ef you lissun you mout yere her singin , 
 dat is, ef her pains ain t on her. Po chile, 
 she hab paid mighty dear fur de singin 
 she s done in dis yere life ; but her reward 
 gwine ter come airter while, Mr. Potter. 
 Her crown goin ter be mighty bright 
 rubbed bright wid de soft rag o long suf- 
 ferin , sah. Huh, my mouf waters now 
 when I think bout dem huntin sprees 
 
30 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 we se gwine ter hab ; an lemme tell you, 
 I knows whar de b ars is way up de riber 
 in de canebrakes, knows zactly whar da 
 uses. John he s got er rifle mighty nigh 
 long ez he is, an I se got one deze yere 
 army guns her name s Nance dat 
 shoots wall, when er bullet gits outen 
 dat gun it jes keeps on er goin , it peer 
 like, an I hab trained her sights down till 
 she shoots right whar I hoi s her, too. 
 Dar, John say come on." 
 
 They went into the house. Alf did not 
 care for anything to eat. He had eaten 
 just before leaving home, but he found so 
 much satisfaction in seeing his friends eat 
 that he would take a seat near the table 
 and watch the performance. The old 
 negro became more and more interested 
 in Potter, and occasionally, after a sort of 
 digestive contemplation of a remark made 
 by the gigantic guest, he would slowly 
 nod his head in thorough approval. Sud 
 denly he slapped his leg and exclaimed : 
 
 " De Lawd is already dun hepped us 
 out on dis yere pilgumage by puttin me 
 
Up Terrapin River. 31 
 
 in mine o de very place we wants. Up 
 de river bout six miles frum yere John, 
 you know de place dar s er farm o some 
 sebenty-five acres, er good eal o it dun 
 cleared. Some o it is in de riber bottom 
 an is monst us rich. B longs ter ole 
 man Sevier dat libes bout two mile frum 
 yere. Think we ken git it fur mighty low 
 rent, fur nobody ain t lived on it fur three 
 ur fo year. How does dem obserwations 
 strike de sembly ?" 
 
 Potter and John were delighted with 
 the prospect of so early a ripening of their 
 hopes. The place was in the edge of a 
 wild section of the country. So much the 
 better. It was at least two miles from 
 any other house. Better still. 
 
 " Uncle Jeff won t object to me goin ," 
 said John, " but Aunt Liz will, not cause 
 she s afeerd I won t do well, but cause " 
 
 " Cause she s feerd you will," old Alf 
 broke in. " Oh, I knows dat lady. Haw, 
 haw ! Knows dat lady frum way back 
 yander way up inter de time whut ain t 
 got yere yit, but dat doan make no 
 
32 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 diffunce. Well whittle off all de wrinkles 
 on de ho n o her ubjections." 
 
 "You are the most figurative man I 
 ever knew," Potter smilingly remarked. 
 
 " Oh, no, sah, dat s whar you s wrong. 
 I ain t figertive hardly none. I ken make 
 er figer one an ken cut er mighty caper 
 wid er figer two, but I kain t add em 
 tergedder cept I do it in my mine ; but 
 let us git down ter dis yere bizness. I ll 
 go ober ter ole man Sevier s dis ebenin 
 an tell him ter drap ober yere arly Mon 
 day mawnin , an he ll come, lemme tell 
 you, fur he is ez keen ter let us hab dat 
 place ez we is ter git it. B lebe I ll go dis 
 minit," he added, taking up his hat. 
 " Good ebenin , panions o de mighty fine 
 enterprise ; good ebenin ter you." 
 
 Potter and John talked until a late 
 hour and then went to bed up near the 
 clapboard roof. John soon sank to sleep. 
 Potter lay gazing at the stars that winked 
 through holes in the roof. A whippoor- 
 will sat on the stack chimney and sang a 
 lonesome song, but a cricket came out 
 
Up Terrapin River. 33 
 
 from under an old trunk, stopped in a bar 
 of moonlight that fell on the floor, and 
 chirruped merrily. The screech-owl, muf 
 fling and fluttering among the damp 
 leaves of the rank greenbrier, cried with 
 annoying cadence, but the tree-toad, with 
 his somnolent croak, smoothed down the 
 pillow with gentle sleepiness. 
 
 Potter was awakend by John, who 
 called him to breakfast. Old Alf soon 
 came. Old man Sevier would be pleased 
 to rent his farm. He cared not so much 
 for the money as for the improvements 
 that might be made. The morning hours 
 were spent in a delighted talking over of 
 maturing plans. In the afternoon old 
 Jeff and his wife returned. Old Jeff 
 smiled upon the project, but the old 
 woman wrinkled her long nose, drove to 
 the mole on her chin the wavering lines 
 of dissatisfaction, and declared that people 
 who took up with every rag-tag that came 
 along always starved to death or had to 
 beg among the neighbors. Everyone 
 knew that she had done her duty by John, 
 
34 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 and why he wanted to leave was some 
 thing she could not understand. " You 
 never seed this man till yistidy," the old 
 woman went on, addressing her nephew, 
 "an I don t know why in the name uv 
 common sense you wanter foller him off. 
 Jest like men folks, anyway. Anybody 
 ken come erlong an lead em by the nose. 
 Alf !" 
 
 "Yessum." 
 
 " Ain t you got no sense ?" 
 
 " Wall um, I se got mo den de man dat 
 tried ter rive clapboards wid er razor an 
 den tried ter shave hisse f wid er froe." 
 
 " I don t b leve it." 
 
 " I kaint hep dat. Mr. Potter, doan pay 
 HO tention ter de lady, sah." 
 
 " You good for nuthin black imp, you 
 neenter be er tellin nobody what ter do 
 on my ercount." 
 
 " Come, come," said old Jeff; " ef you 
 must chop wood be keerful uv yo chips. 
 Ef John wants ter go, w y he s goin , that s 
 all. He won t be so fur erway but you 
 ken see him ever once in er while." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 35 
 
 " Oh, I won t be hankerin airter seein 
 him. He ain t no blood kin uv mine, the 
 Lawd knows." 
 
 " Madam," said Potter, " I am very 
 sorry that I have caused " 
 
 " Oh, shet ye mouth," she snapped. 
 " You don t know what you ase sorry uv." 
 
 With the exception of an occasional out 
 burst from the old woman the remainder 
 of the day was passed pleasantly. Early 
 the next morning Sevier came over. The 
 farm was rented on easy terms. Prepara 
 tions for immediate departure were begun. 
 John and Alf each owned a horse. Alf 
 had two plows and several hoes. Old Jeff 
 would lend them his wagon to haul their 
 4< plunder " over to their new home. Just 
 as they had finished loading the wagon 
 Alf s daughter came, walking with a 
 crutch. She was but little more than a 
 child, and though she bore the marks of 
 great suffering yet she was bright and 
 cheerful. When everything was ready, 
 old Alf, taking hold of his daughter s arm, 
 said: "Jule, me n you will ride up yere 
 
36 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 on dis seat, fur I gwine ter drive. Mr. 
 Potter, you an* John set back dar on dat 
 straw bed." 
 
 Jeff and his wife were standing near the 
 wagon. Mrs. Lucas, while watching the 
 smallest detail of every movement, kept 
 up a constant wrinkling of her nose. 
 " This is the biggest fool caper I ever 
 seed," she declared. " Shew, thar ! the 
 fetchtaked chickens air scratchin up the 
 pepper agin. The biggest fool caper I 
 ever seed." 
 
 " I knowd o er bigger one once," Alf 
 replied, slily winking at Jeff. 
 " I don t know when it wuz." 
 " It wuz the time," Alf rejoined, again 
 winking at Jeff, " that one o the Scrog- 
 gins boys clim up a sycamore tree an 
 tried to blow out de moon." 
 
 " Oh, go on an keep yo mouth shet." 
 " I se gwine on, lady, but I kaint prom 
 ise you ter keep my mouf shet, fur de man 
 dat keeps his mouf shet is gwine ter 
 starve, caze lessen he opens it he kaint 
 put nuthen ter eat in it er haw, haw." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 37 
 
 " Oh, shet up. Jest ter think you would 
 run erway and leave er half-grown crap." 
 
 " Me an Mr. Jeff dun fixed dat, lady." 
 
 "Oh, I ll be bound he d fix anything 
 that don t take no trouble. Stands thar 
 now, grinnin like er possum. Don t peer 
 like he d kere whuther we raise a crap or 
 not. Thar, drive on with you, now. 
 Never seed sich a fool caper in my life. 
 Bet you all starve to death." 
 
 It was so early when they drove off 
 that the dew was still dripping from a 
 vine-covered tree. Alf and his daughter 
 hummed a tune. John, placing one hand 
 on Potter s knee, looked earnestly into his 
 face and said : 
 
 " This is the happiest day uv my life." 
 
 " Ah, my boy, we may spend many 
 happy days together. I was just thinking 
 how, in my case, a few hours had brought 
 such a change the change from a tramp 
 to a man who is driving toward his own 
 home." 
 
 " Whoa, whoa," exclaimed Alf, pulling 
 on the lines. "John, reach back dar an 
 
38 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 han me Ole Nance (meaning his gun). 
 Come back yere, Pete, you triflin raskil 
 (addressing his dog)." 
 
 " What s the matter ?" Potter asked. 
 
 " Matter ? Is you so blind dat you 
 kaint see dat monst us rattlesnake crossin 
 de road right up dar ?" 
 
 " My gracious, what a monster !" Potter 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Yas," replied Alf, as he took his gun 
 and cautiously climbed down out of the 
 wagon, " an he ain t eat no less n er ha f 
 er dozen squirrels fur his breakfast. Git 
 out, generman, an watch de formance." 
 
 Potter and John got out. Alf con 
 tinued : " Wait till he curls an hoi s up 
 his head. Doan git up too close, caze he 
 blow at you an make you sick. Greshus, 
 how pizen he is. Now hoi on." 
 
 The snake was holding up its head. 
 Alf took deliberate aim and fired. In 
 stantly the reptile was a twisting and 
 tumbling mass of yellow and black and 
 green. 
 
 " He s lookin round fur his head," Alf 
 
Up Terrapin River. 39 
 
 remarked, " but he ain t gwine ter find it 
 dis mawnin . Wait till I pull off his rat 
 tles. Wants em ter put in my fiddle." 
 
 He pulled off the rattles while the snake 
 was still writhing, and, as he climbed back 
 into the wagon, remarked : " It s allus a 
 sign o good luck ter kill er rattlesnake 
 dat s crossin yo road. Get-ep, boys." 
 
 They crossed the beautiful river and 
 drove up the stream. 
 
 " Yander is de place," said Alf, pointing. 
 
 Yes, it was the place a place from 
 which John s life was to turn in a new 
 direction a place of learning, romance, 
 and adventure a place of laughter and 
 of tears. 
 
40 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The house was situated on a hill near 
 the river. From one of its windows the 
 crystal stream could be seen. Every sur 
 rounding was attractive to a lover of 
 nature. The house was built of logs and 
 contained two rooms. In one of the 
 rooms there was a great fireplace. It did 
 not take the new occupants long to 
 arrange their scanty collection of furni 
 ture. The girl, woman-like, regretted 
 that no better show was made, but the 
 men declared that the house contained 
 everything that was strictly necessary. 
 The third day after their arrival Potter, 
 upon getting up from the breakfast-table 
 (he and John ate at one large box and 
 Alf and his daughter ate at another one 
 of exact pattern), turned to his friends 
 and remarked: " I am going over to 
 
Up Terrapin River. 41 
 
 Sunset to-day (a village about twenty-five 
 miles distant), to get a Winchester rifle 
 saw one in a store as I came through the 
 other day and the books necessary for 
 the beginning of our educational course. 
 I have a few dollars, not many, it is true, 
 but quite enough. John, you and Alf get 
 as much work done as you can. Of course, 
 the season is so far advanced that we can 
 not get in much of a crop, but we must 
 try to raise enough corn to run us during 
 the winter." 
 
 Never before had John gone to work 
 with such enjoyment. He sang as he 
 turned over the soil. Encouragement had 
 put a song in his mouth. Alf was 
 delighted, and Jule was so light-hearted 
 and so improved that she sometimes 
 ventured out without her crutch. There 
 was much work to be done, but they 
 all regarded its accomplishment as a 
 pleasure. 
 
 Potter did not return until late at 
 night, but his friends had sat up waiting 
 to receive him. He brought the Win- 
 
42 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 Chester rifle and a supply of cartridges; 
 he brought the books, some needed dishes, 
 a pair of shoes for John, a Sunday hat 
 for Alf, and a calico dress for Jule. 
 
 " Oh, it s de putties thing I eber seed 
 in my life," the girl exclaimed. " W y 
 dady, jes look yere at de flowers." 
 
 " Grasshoppers, aint da ?" said Alf, slyly 
 winking at Potter. 
 
 " You know da aint. Whut you come 
 talk dat way fur, say ?" She took hold of 
 his ears with a tender pretense of anger, 
 and shook his head. " I ll 1 arn you how 
 ter talk dater way bout deze flowers. W y 
 da s so much like sho nuff flowers dat I 
 ken almos smell de fume. Look yere 
 dady, we mus git Mr. Potter suthin ter 
 eat" 
 
 "Aint I dun heatin de skillet?" Alf 
 replied. " Cose I is." He went to a box, 
 which, nailed up against the wall, served 
 as a "cubbard," and took out several 
 pieces of white-looking meat. 
 
 " What sort of meat do you call that ?" 
 Potter asked. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 43 
 
 " Dis, sah," Alf rejoined, as he began 
 to dip the meat into a tin plate containing 
 flour, " is some slices offen de breast o one 
 o de fines turkey gobblers I eber seed. 
 John ken tell you how it got here." 
 
 " I wuz plowin long jest before dinner," 
 said John, " an I hearn the gentleman gob- 
 blin out in the woods. I wuz sorter ston- 
 ished, too, fur it s gittin putty late in the 
 season fur turkeys ter be struttin erbout. 
 I slipped to the house an got my rifle an 
 went into the woods airter him. He wuz 
 so high up in er tree that he didn t pay no 
 tention ter me, not b lievin I could reach 
 him, I reckon, but I drawed a bead on 
 his head an down he come." 
 
 " I am glad you got him," Potter replied. 
 " You are an excellent shot, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Wall, I mout not hit er pin-head, but 
 I reckon I could hit er steer." 
 
 " Mr. Potter," said Alf, as he stood over 
 the fire frying the turkey breast, " wush I 
 had axed you ter fetch de ole man some 
 fiddle strings." 
 
 "Well, if I didn t bring you some I 
 
44 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 hope, as John s aunt would say, I may 
 never stir agin. Here they are." 
 
 "Wall, fo greshus, ef you ain t de 
 thoughtfules white man I eber seed. 
 Thankee, sah, thankee. Man mus almos 
 be spired ter think erbout ever thing diser 
 way. Now, sah, we gwirie ter hab some 
 music in dis yere house. Bible say er man 
 kaint lib by meat an bread by itse f ; means 
 dat folks aughter hab er little music. Ole 
 Mars David uster play on er harp, an 7 I 
 lay he done it well, too." 
 
 " The fiddle is your favorite instrument, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 " You shoutin- now. De ho n is er 
 mule an brays ; de banger is er chicken 
 dat clucks ; de cordeon is er dog dat 
 whines ; de flute is er sheep dat blates, 
 but de fiddle is er man dat praises de 
 Lawd. De fiddle, sah, is de human bein 
 o instrumen s. Now, set up yere ter de 
 table, fur yo supper s ready." 
 
 "Is that rain ?" Potter remarked, as he 
 drew his chair up to the box. 
 
 " Yas, sah, an we se needin it, too. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 45 
 
 Look at John, how he s handlirf dem 
 books. Gwine read em atter while, ain t 
 you, John ?" 
 
 "Yes, an I hope befo long, too. Ef 
 stickin to it counts for anything, I know 
 I will. I d ruther have er good education, 
 than ter have money, an horses, an fine 
 clothes." 
 
 "You shall have it, my dear boy," 
 Potter replied. The truest friends of this 
 life are books. With them every man is 
 a king ; without them every man is a slave. 
 The mind is God-given, and every good 
 book bears the stamp of divinity. Books 
 are the. poor man s riches the tramp s 
 magnificent coach. I would rather live in 
 a prison where there are books, than in a 
 palace destitute of them." 
 
 " Dat s all mighty well, Mr. Potter," Alf 
 interposed, "but yo vidults gettin cold. 
 Books ain gwine keep er man s supper 
 warm. Look at John. Heb l ebes ever 
 word you say, an I doan know but you se 
 right myse f, but books ain t all. Er good 
 heart is better den er book. Look, my 
 
46 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 little gal is settin dar fas ersleep, wid dat 
 caliker coat in her arms. I mus put her 
 ter bed. Ah, little angel," he added, as 
 he took her up in his arms, "you is de 
 only book dat yo po daddy reads. Ter 
 him you is de book o dis life. All yo 
 leaves is got love an tenderness writ on 
 em. God bless you." He went into the 
 other room, and closed the door. 
 
 A heavy rain fell during the remainder 
 of the night, and at morning, as the soil 
 was too wet to be worked, Potter suggested 
 the advisability of a fishing expedition. 
 
 "Jule, you ain t erfeerd ter stay by 
 yo se f, air you ?" John asked, when all the 
 arrangements had been made. 
 
 " Cose I ain t ; an sides dat, de Lawd 
 ain t gwine let nobody hurt er po crippled 
 up chile ez I is." 
 
 " Your simple faith is beautiful," said 
 Potter. 
 
 " Dar ain t no true faith, sah, dat ain t 
 simple," Alf rejoined. 
 
 " You are right," Potter responded, " for 
 when faith ceases to be simple, it becomes 
 
Up Terrapin River. 47 
 
 a showy pretense. Well, is everything 
 ready?" 
 
 "Yes, sah. We ll go erbout er mile up 
 de riber, whar dar is er good hole, an den 
 feesh up de stream." 
 
 The clouds had rolled away, and the 
 day was as bright as a Christian s smile. 
 The mocking-bird, influenced .to sportive 
 capers,flew high in the air, poured out an 
 impulsive rhapsody, and then pretended to 
 fall. Down the gullies, spider webs, 
 catching the glare of the sun, shone like 
 mirrors. 
 
 They soon reached the " hole " of which 
 Alf had spoken, but the fish would not 
 bite. 
 
 " I ll tell you de reason," said the old 
 negro. " Dis water is still risin . You 
 kaint suade er feesh ter bite while de 
 water s risin , but soon ez it gins ter fall, 
 w y da ll grab deze hooks like er chicken 
 pickin up co n. HoP him, John, hoi him. 
 Fo greshus, dat boy dun hung er whale. 
 Play him roun diserway. Doan pull him 
 too hard, you ll break yo line. Swing 
 
48 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 co nerswid him; dat s right. Wait ; lemme 
 git hold de line. Yere he is. Monst ous 
 channel cat. Uh, whut er beauty. Weigh 
 ten pounds ef he ll weigh er ounce." 
 
 " Good for you, John," said Potter. 
 
 "Good fur us all," replied Alf, "fur I 
 gwine ter put dat feesh on ter cook ez 
 soon ez I ken make er fire an git him 
 ready." 
 
 " It is a pity we forgot to bring a frying 
 pan," Potter remarked. 
 
 " Doan need one, sah." 
 
 " How are you going to cook him, 
 then ?" 
 
 "You jest wait," said Alf, as he begun 
 preparations for building a fire. 
 
 When he had made the fire, he killed 
 the fish and dressed it. 
 
 "Are you not going to skin it ?" Potter 
 asked. 
 
 " You jest wait erwhile, now. Neber 
 seeb sech eatin in yo life ez we se gwine 
 ter hab." 
 
 He dug some clay from a bank, poured 
 water upon it, and begun to knead it. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 49 
 
 Then he took a piece of paper, wrapped 
 the fish in it, and then put on a thick 
 coating of clay. 
 
 "See ; now I gwine ter put him right 
 yere in de fire, an let him cook erbout 
 two hours, an den we ll crack his shell." 
 
 They threw out their lines again, but 
 the fish would not bite. 
 
 " It ain t no use tryin," Alf declared. 
 " Da ain t gwine ter bite till de water 
 ginter fall." 
 
 "Why did one of them bite?" Potter 
 asked. 
 
 " Caze he didn hab ernuff sense ter 
 know dat de water want fallin , sah. You 
 mer jest put it down fur er fack dat when 
 er feesh bites when de water s risin , he 
 ain t got no sense." 
 
 " We don t kere whuther they ve got 
 any sense or not, so long as they bite," 
 John remarked. 
 
 "You re right dar; plum right. I d 
 ruther know dat er feesh no longer den 
 my han would bite, den ter know dat one 
 ez big ez me wuz smart ernuff ter preach. 
 
 4 
 
50 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 Wall, ef dat boy ain t dun fotch dat book 
 wid him." 
 
 "A good idea, John," said Potter. We ll 
 sit up there under that rock, and while 
 the fish is cooking we will study our 
 lesson." 
 
 So intent was the boy in this, his initia 
 tive step in the pursuit of knowledge, that 
 time seemed to take the wings of the 
 sparrow-hawk and swiftly sail away. 
 
 Alf called them to dinner. " See," said 
 the negro, all I had ter do wuz ter crack 
 his shell. You axed me ef I want gwine 
 ter skin him. See, de skin peels right off 
 wid de paper. Openin yo eyes in ston- i 
 ishment, is you ? Jest wait till you taste 
 him. Set down on de rock, an lemme 
 he p you ter er monst ous piece. Sprinkle 
 er little salt on him, dis way. Now, how 
 do he go ?" 
 
 " Best fish I ever tasted, I must say." 
 
 " Cose he is. All de flaber kep in by 
 dat clay." 
 
 " If we had brought our guns along, we 
 might have had some squirrels." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 5 i 
 
 " Not lessen we d fotch cle dog ter tree 
 
 em." 
 
 " Well, we might have brought the 
 dog." 
 
 " No, fur it s bad luck ter take er dog 
 wid you er feeshin . Dat s de reason I driv 
 Ole Pete back. Tuck er dog feeshin wid 
 me wunst an it want mo den er week 
 airter dat till I tuck de dew pizen in one 
 o my feet." 
 
 " Not because you took the dog, Alf, 
 but because you went in the dew." 
 
 " Dar mout be suthin in dat fack, sah, 
 but I know dat airterwards I went feeshin 
 widout takin de dog an soon got well o 
 de pizen. Tell you whut we better do 
 airter we git done eatin . Better go bout 
 er mile up de riber ter er place whar de 
 bass will bite like er settin hen. De 
 water will be fallin by dat time. Dar s 
 er bend in the riber right up yander, an 
 we ken cut off er good many steps by 
 goin through de bottom." 
 
 They started immediately after dinner, 
 and had gone but a short distance into 
 
 4 
 
52 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 the "bottom/ when old Alf stopped, took 
 off his hat, and said : 
 
 " Dar now, dat do settle it, sho." 
 
 " What is the matter ?" Potter asked. 
 
 " Doan you yere dem wolves ? My 
 greshus, whut er pack it is, too. Lissen." 
 
 " I hear them now," said Potter. " Do 
 you hear them, John ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I have been hearin em fur 
 some time, but didn t zackly know whut 
 they was. It ain t common that they 
 come inter this neighborhood." 
 
 " No," Alf rejoined ; " an it won t be 
 common dat we ll go anywhar airter dis 
 day lessen we make some mighty fast 
 preparations. Tain t no use n us tryin 
 ter run erway, Mr. Potter, fur da d ketch 
 us fo we got ha f er mile. We ll hatter 
 climb up er tree an wait till da goes erway. 
 De only trouble is da mout keep us yere 
 till we starve ter death. Da s gittin yere. 
 Hop up in er tree." 
 
 Potter and Alf climbed one tree; John 
 sought refuge in another one a short dis 
 tance away. The howling grew louder 
 
Up Terrapin River. 53 
 
 and louder. Alf declared that the wolves 
 must be nearly starved or they would not 
 cut up such "shines " in daylight. A small 
 open space that lay between the two trees 
 was soon alive with the howling, snarling, 
 and snapping "varmints," as Alf termed 
 them. Occasionally some bold leader 
 would leap high in the air and snap at the 
 men ; others busied themselves with gnaw 
 ing at the trees. 
 
 "Did n I tell you it wuz bad luck ter 
 bring er dog er feeshin?" said Alf. 
 
 "Yes," Potter replied; "but what new 
 fact has caused you to speak of it again ? 
 The dog did not come with us, yet we 
 have the bad luck of being treed by 
 wolves." 
 
 "Yas, sah, yas ; but if dat dog wuz 
 yere deze wolves would eat him up, an dat 
 would be monst ous bad luck fur him. 
 How I do wush I had my gun. I wouldn 
 ax fur nuthin sweeter den ter set up yere 
 an blow de life outen deze raskils. How 
 you gittin long ober dar, John ?" 
 
 " Fust rate ; but I d be enjoyin myse f 
 
54 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 er good deal better ef I had my rifle. How 
 I d like ter draw er bead on that whopper ; 
 that old shaggy feller." 
 
 " Laws er massy, how I would. He s 
 er ole pollertician, he is, an I lay he gits 
 ever vote in de croud. Bet he ain t been 
 de sheriff o de den no less en er dozen 
 times. I whut de matter wid em ?" 
 
 Suddenly the wolves with one impulse 
 ceased their howling, " tucked " their tails, 
 and ran away. 
 
 " A very gentlemanly act," Potter ex 
 claimed. " Now we can get down from 
 these uncomfortable perches." 
 
 " Hoi on," cried Alf. " Set right whar 
 you is, fur dar s suthen wus den wolves 
 round yere now. Look dar ! Lawd an 
 de mussyful hebens proteck us !" 
 
 Two enormous panthers bounded into 
 the open space. They cast quick glances 
 in the direction which the wolves had 
 taken, and then, turning about, bent their 
 fiery gaze on Potter and the old negro. 
 Potter turned pale, and, addressing Alf, 
 said : "Old man, we are doomed. They 
 
Up Terrapin River. 55 
 
 will never leave us until their awful mouths 
 are stained with our blood." 
 
 "Oh, Lawd," the old negro cried, "look 
 down yere an see de awful fix yo po 
 servant dun got inter. Lawd, da gwine 
 ter chaw de life outen yo po servant. 
 Lawd, de bigges one got his eyes dead 
 set on yo po servant. Where 11 I be dis 
 time ter mor . Oh, Mr. Potter, how I 
 wush I wuz at de house drinkin butter 
 milk. Lawd, yo ole servant wushes you d 
 strike deze pant ers wid lightnin . Oh, 
 Lawd, I d ruther die den ter be killed by 
 er pant er." 
 
 The panthers stood gazing at them. 
 
 Potter s pallor was gone, and on his 
 face there rested an expression of resigna 
 tion. "If they intend to do anything," 
 said he, " I wish they would not put it off 
 any longer. This delay is awful." 
 
 "Oh, doansaydat, Mr. Potter; oh, sweet 
 Mr. Potter, doan say dat. Doan make 
 no sich subjestions ter em, fur doan you 
 see da s jes waitin fur dar mines ter git 
 made up. My greshus, I ken feel dat 
 
56 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 monster s eyes. Da burns inter my flesh. 
 Da ain t payin no tendon ter John. Look 
 yere, dat boy ain t in de tree !" 
 
 " That s a fact," Potter cried. "What 
 do you suppose has become of him ?" 
 
 " God bless him, he s slipped down an 
 is gone home atrter er gun. Oh, Lawd, 
 gib de rabbit s mobement ter his legs. 
 Let him leap ober rocks an gullies like er 
 fox. Dar ain t much hope fur us, though, 
 Mr. Potter, fur by de time he gits back 
 dem May-apple stalks down dar will be 
 stained wid our blood. Da won t wait no 
 longer den sundown, nohow, an see, de 
 sun ain t high. Ef John mussyful heb- 
 ens !" 
 
 One of the panthers had run forward, 
 but he only sniffed the air at the root of 
 the tree and then returned to his compan 
 ion. 
 
 " Dat s right, good Lawd, hold de 
 monster back, an please doan let him 
 stick his nose ergin dis tree no mo . Look 
 at em watchin de sun. Da s sorter skit 
 tish o de bright blaze, but when de blaze 
 
Up Terrapin River. 57 
 
 goes out an de red glow comes, den 
 suthen redder will be poured on de 
 groun . It will be our blood. Oh, Lawd, 
 dat raskil is lookin harder an harder at 
 yo po servant. Wush I had er went ter 
 er camp meetin summers stead o cumin 
 yere ter day, but, Lawd, it s allus de way 
 wid er po weak man. He s allus treadin 
 de path dat leads ter struckshun. Wush 
 I wuz plowin right now, eben ef de 
 groun is too wet. I d ruther be anywhar 
 anything. Wush I wuz er oman er 
 takin in washin fur er livin . Wush I 
 wuz er gal er patchin geans britches." 
 
 " I hope John will bring my Winchester 
 rifle," said Potter. 
 
 " He ll do dat, sah ; he ll do dat." 
 
 " But do you suppose he knows how to 
 use it ?" 
 
 " Yes, sah , he s seed em befo . Oh. 
 Lawd, doan furgit whut er awful fix yo 
 po servant is in. Dat sun goin down 
 mighty fas . Look how da watchin it." 
 
 It did seem as if the panthers stole an 
 occasional and anxious glance at the sun. 
 
58 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " De fust pant ers Fse seed in dis yere 
 munity fur er mighty long time," old Alf 
 went on, in his prayerful way, " an I 
 wushes, Lawd, dat I neber had seed deze. 
 Wush I wuz er boy in er swimin under 
 some shady tree. Oh, Lawd, de raskil 
 dun looked at de sun ergin." 
 
 He kept up a ceaseless flow of suppli 
 cation. The sun seemed to sink rapidly. 
 The shadows of the May-apple stalks 
 were getting longer and longer. The 
 panthers became restless. The old negro s 
 prayer increased in earnestness. One of 
 the panthers, the male, ran back a short 
 distance, then coming forward with mighty 
 bounds, sprang high in the air and caught 
 the body of the tree. 
 
 Bang! 
 
 The panther fell to the ground. The 
 other one ran forward, touched, with her 
 bristly lips, her dead companion s blood, 
 and then springing up, caught the body of 
 the tree. 
 
 Bang! 
 
 "Thank de Lawd; thank de Lawd!" 
 
Up Terrapin River. 59 
 
 cried Alf, as he began to scramble down ; 
 "thank de Lawd." 
 
 He seized John in his arms. "Oh, de 
 Lawd ain t gwine ter let his chillun suffrr 
 long. Yas, Mr. Potter, take holter dis 
 young pussun. Dat s right, hug him, but 
 look out, for you se monst ous strong. Bless 
 us, de chile come back on er hoss. Shed- 
 din tears, too. Huh, I com in . back yere 
 termor an skin deze genermen. Frien s, 
 jes wait er minit till I git down on my 
 knees an pray." 
 
 John and Potter removed their hats. 
 The old negro sank down upon his knees, 
 raised his clasped hands, and delivered in 
 these words his simple prayer: "Lawd, 
 whuteber happens un er yo count nance is 
 right, but we do thank thee fur dis adc o 
 hebenly mussy. Amen." 
 
60 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The glare of summer was softened into 
 the glow of autumn. In the field the 
 dry corn-blades, gently stirring, hoarsely 
 whispered ; and the grasshopper, stiffened 
 by the chilling dew, sat on the pumpkin 
 where the sunlight fell. The mornings 
 were rosy, the noontide shone with a 
 deeper red, but the evenings came, se 
 renely stealing, it seemed, out of the 
 heavily-wooded land, spreading over the 
 fields and creeping along the hill-sides 
 where the bell-cow rang ker melancholy 
 curfew. 
 
 John was a devoted student, and Potter, 
 almost as much interested, was never too 
 tired to assist him. " Don t sit up too 
 late, John," the giant would sometimes 
 say. " To-morrow night, remember, will 
 soon be here." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 61 
 
 Alf, delighted to know that his violin 
 did not disturb the cause of education, 
 mainly spent his evenings with that instru 
 ment. One night, with sudden enthusiasm, 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " Look yere, Mr. Potter, I wants er 
 little o dat edycation merse f. Gimme 
 holt o dat book er minit. Now show me 
 erj." 
 
 " There is one," Potter replied, pointing 
 out the letter. 
 
 " Is you sho dat s er J ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Potter, smiling at John. 
 
 4< No chance whuteber fur er mistake in 
 dis yere matter ?" 
 
 " None at all." 
 
 " Uh, huh. So dis yere is de J dat I se 
 hearn so much erbout. An yere s er 
 nuder one. I tell you dis yere book 
 couldn git er long widout de J. Whut s 
 dis yere one ?" 
 
 " That is an S, v Potter replied. 
 
 11 Is you sho it is er S ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Wall, wall ; so yere s de S dat s been 
 
62 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 er dodgen me fur sich er long time ; but I 
 got him now." 
 
 " Here is an L," said Potter. 
 
 " I doan kere nothin bout dat," Alf said, 
 closing the book. " I wouldn git outen 
 de way ef I wuz ter meet er L in de road. 
 De J an de S wuz whut I was airter." 
 
 " Do you not want to know the other 
 letters ?" 
 
 " No, sah ; I dun got ernuff. Airter 
 wile, ef de J an S wars out, I niotit call 
 fur some more, but I se fixed ez long ez 
 da lasts. Jule, wouldn you like ter know 
 er bout de J ?" 
 
 11 1 knows em all," the girl replied. 
 
 " Take ere ; take ere. I neber did see 
 so much edycation ; man kaint step round 
 yere widout trampin on it." 
 
 " These cool days, when we have no 
 important work to perform," said Potter, 
 " can be well spent." 
 
 " Mine shall be," John responded. How 
 long will it be, you reckon, before I ken 
 stop this sort uv splashin with these books, 
 an* jump right in an swim." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 63 
 
 * Not a great while. You must lay the 
 worm rail, you know, before you can 
 build the fence. In truth, you learn more 
 rapidly than anyone else I ever knew ; and 
 sometimes, while watching your progress, 
 I can not help but look back with pity 
 upon the snail-like movements of my early 
 efforts." 
 
 "Oh, dar ain t no question bout dat 
 boy 1 arnin ," Alf exclaimed. " Er boy 
 dat 1 arned ter break er colt ez easy ez he 
 did one time, ain t gwine ter hab much 
 trouble wid dis S an J bizness. Whut, er 
 boy dat ken slip down outen er tree widout 
 er quick-eyed pant er seem him, ain t got 
 sly mubement ernuff ter ketch deze yere 
 books er nappin ? Doan know dat chile 
 yit ; doan know him." 
 
 One afternoon while Potter and John 
 were at their books, and while Alf was 
 playing on his fiddle a sort of accompani 
 ment to a doleful tune hummed by his 
 daughter, there came a tapping on the 
 facing of the open door. 
 
 " Come in," Potter called. 
 
64 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 A woman and a girl stepped into the 
 room. John and Potter sprang up with 
 the quick impulse of courtesy s sudden 
 demand, and offered them seats. Alf put 
 down his fiddle, and bowing, gave the 
 visitors a grinning welcome. 
 
 " Where are your women folks T the 
 elder visitor inquired. 
 
 " We have none, madam," Potter replied, 
 " except this girl, the daughter of this 
 old " 
 
 " Servant o the Lawd," Alf inter 
 jected. 
 
 "This servant of the Lord," Potter 
 smilingly repeated, " who assists us in 
 tending our crop, and who is " 
 
 " Erbout de bes cook in dis yere neigh- 
 borhood," Alf again broke in. 
 
 " My daughter Eva and I were pass 
 ing," said the woman, and having noticed 
 for some time that this old house was again 
 inhabited, decided to stop and investigate. 
 We live about five miles from here, on the 
 Sunset road. I am Mrs. Lucy Forest, 
 widow of Henry Forest, who died several 
 
Up Terrapin River. 65 
 
 years ago. You have heard of him. of 
 course." 
 
 " I am a comparative stranger in this 
 neighborhood," Potter replied. 
 
 " I ricolleck seein him," John remarked. 
 " Uster have something to do with the 
 Sunday-school at Mt. Pleasant. Alf 
 knowed him, too, I reckon." 
 
 " Lawd bless me, yas," Alf exclaimed. 
 " I dug de man s grave." 
 
 " I remember you now," Mrs. Forest 
 rejoined, "and I remember you, too," 
 addressing John. "Your name," turning 
 to Potter, " is " 
 
 " Excuse me for not introducing my 
 self. My name is Potter." 
 
 " Well, I was going to say that your 
 name was Bradshaw, and that I had seen 
 you before." 
 
 " Excuse me a moment," said Potter, 
 " I see your horse is loose. Let me go 
 and hitch him for you." 
 
 " I m younger than you, let me go," 
 John insisted. 
 
 When John had gone, Mrs. Forest, 
 
 5 
 
66 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 looking after him, remarked: " That 
 young man has a splendid face. Don t 
 you think so, Eva ?" 
 
 " Yes ; strong and expressive of true 
 refinement," the girl replied. Potter 
 looked in admiration upon her. She was 
 apparently but little more than fifteen 
 years of age, but in form was well advanced 
 toward graceful womanhood. Her eyes 
 were large, dark, and beautiful. Her hair 
 was as threads of fine and blackest silk, 
 and in its graceful clustering, romance, it 
 seemed, had found a lurking place. There 
 was not a ruddy glow upon her cheeks, 
 but with a creamy shading they tended 
 toward paleness. An expression of quiet 
 thought lay about the corners of her 
 shapely mouth, but on her forehead, low 
 and broad, fancy traced a brightening 
 picture. 
 
 The girl s mother, noticing Potter s 
 look, which had now almost deepened into 
 a gaze, remarked: " I don t think my 
 daughter is looking very well. For some 
 time she has been at school over at Sunset, 
 
Up Terrapin River. 67 
 
 where there is an excellent teacher, but 
 she studied so hard that I had to take 
 her away." 
 
 4< Mother, please don t make me out an 
 invalid, for you know that I can walk long 
 distances and climb steep hills without 
 fatigue." 
 
 " Oh, I don t mean that you are an 
 invalid, daughter ; but you know yourself, 
 Mr. Brad Mr. Potter, that it is not well 
 for one so young to be so devoted to books. 
 It was her father s only trouble I came 
 near saying fault." 
 
 " It was his greatest pleasure," the girl 
 suggested. 
 
 " Yes ; but if it hadn t been for books 
 he might have been a successful business 
 man, and we might not have been com 
 pelled to leave our home in Tennessee, 
 where I was so contented, and settle in 
 this out-of-the-way place, and, of neces 
 sity, take up ignorance for our neigh 
 bors." 
 
 " His neighbors, the few books which 
 he saved, are not ignorant," the girl 
 a 
 
68 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 replied. " He loved them, found them 
 true, and left them friends to me." 
 
 " Yes, child, yes ; I know all that ; but 
 it was a hardship on me, and since his 
 death the cultivation of the farm has given 
 me no end of trouble. Oh, I like books 
 well enough, but unless we can write them 
 they don t make us a living." 
 
 " But," said Potter, " they reduce a 
 dreary and barren hour into a minute of 
 ripe delight." 
 
 The girl clapped her hands. I thank 
 you for so bright a defense," she ex 
 claimed. 
 
 " Oh, when you come ter talk erbout 
 books," said Alf, " Mr. Potter he plum dar. 
 Got er big luther-kivered book yere dat 
 he read mighty nigh all de time." 
 
 "The Bible I hope," Mrs. Forest re 
 marked. 
 
 " The Bible often, Mrs. Forest, but the 
 book to which he refers is the Bible s 
 wise, though sometimes sportive, child 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 John re-entered the room. " There s 
 
Up Terrapin River. 69 
 
 comin up a shower," said he, " an I took 
 the horse to the stable." 
 
 " It is fortunate that we stopped, even 
 though there are no women folks," Mrs. 
 Forest replied. 
 
 Eva turned to John. " This room has 
 somewhat the appearance of a school," 
 she said. 
 
 " It is a school to me," John answered. 
 
 " You are anxious to learn, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, so anxious that the time, it pears 
 like, flies away befo 1 I Tarn anything." 
 
 " Time will seem kinder after awhile, 
 for then you will be more able to employ 
 it. When you want books that are full 
 of interest, come over to our house." 
 
 Rain began to pour down. A fright 
 ened quail fluttered past the door. A 
 baffled hawk screamed in anger. A rab 
 bit ran into the yard and squatted under an 
 old and tangled rose-bush. The rain 
 ceased. The rabbit shook himself and 
 ran away. The hawk screamed in anger. 
 
 "It is time we were going, daughter," 
 said Mrs. Forest when a stream of sun- 
 
70 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 light came through the window. " Will 
 you please get our horse?" she added, 
 addressing John. 
 
 John bowed, rather awkwardly, perhaps, 
 yet with not a bad show of courtesy, and 
 hurried away to execute the commission. 
 
 11 Mrs. Forest," said Potter, "we do not 
 live so far apart but that we might be 
 more neighborly in the future." 
 
 " Why, surely not," Mrs. Forest replied. 
 " You will find everyone neighborly in 
 this part of the country. Many of the 
 people have nothing, you might say, 
 except a neighborly disposition." 
 
 When the visitors were gone, and when 
 John had again taken up his book, Potter 
 remarked: " Excellent people, I warrant 
 you. What do you think of that young 
 lady, John ?" 
 
 " I don t know, sir. She s so fur away 
 frum me, it pears like that I can t think 
 about her at all. Mr. Potter, do you 
 think I m learnin how to talk any better 
 than I did ?" 
 
 " Yes, and very rapidly, too ; but the 
 
Up Terrapin River. 71 
 
 book which you are of necessity studying 
 now, can only serve you in a preliminary 
 way I mean that what you are studying 
 now, will prepare you for grammar, and 
 grammar will lead you into the excellen 
 cies of speech." 
 
 " Look yere," said Alf, " its erbout time 
 I wuz er slicin off our names, an er puttin 
 em in de pot. I keep er tellin you, dat 
 edycation gittin powerful thick round 
 yere, but huh, when er man s hungry, he d 
 ruther yere suthin er singin in er skillet 
 den ter fool wid er book, I doan kere how 
 many picters it got in it. I ll take deze 
 yere squirl s dat we picked often dem 
 hickory trees dis mawnin , an putty soon 
 you ll yere er song in dat fryin pan dat ll 
 make you genermen drap dem books. I se 
 dun blowed my ho n." 
 
 Early the next morning, before Potter 
 and John had got out of bed, Alf came 
 bustling into the room, bringing the 
 appearance of great excitement. " Gener 
 men," he exclaimed, " dis ain t no time ter 
 lie yere!" 
 
72 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " What s the matter ?" Potter demanded. 
 11 What has happened ; can t you speak ?" 
 
 " Cose I ken speak. Ef I couldn 
 speak, I couldn tell you dat dis ain t no 
 time ter lay yere. Whut s happened ? B ar 
 tracks, sah ; dat s whut s happened. I 
 wus down in the fiel jes now ter see ef I 
 could find any dem raskil coons t arin 
 down de co n, an all at once I come ter 
 er place so tangled wid stalks dat, fo 
 greshus, I dun thought er whirlwin hit de 
 co n, but den it wuz all splained, fur dar 
 wuz b ar tracks mighty nigh ez big ez er 
 ham. Huh, I dun thought somebody dun 
 been goin long dar er hittin de groun 
 wid er maul. Let s git er bite ter eat ez 
 soon ez we ken, an foller de ole scounul." 
 
 Immediately after breakfast they set 
 out *to look for the bear. The tracks in 
 the field proclaimed him to be of mon 
 strous size. Pete, Alf s dog, well under 
 stood the importance of the pursuit. 
 They followed the trail a long distance 
 up the river, and then into a dense cane- 
 brake. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 73 
 
 " Mr. Potter, did you ever kill a bear?" 
 John asked. 
 
 " No ; the truth is I have never seen a 
 wild one. You have killed a number of 
 them, I suppose ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; but I shot one last winter, 
 but he got away. My gun don t carry a 
 ball large enough, I reckon, unless I mout 
 hit him in the eye." 
 
 " Yere s de ole lady dat totes de ball," 
 said Alf, affectionately tapping the barrel 
 of his army gun. " Doan kere whar I hit 
 one o em, he gwine squeal, lemme tell 
 you. Jes look at ole Pete, how he prance. 
 He uster be er mighty fine b ar dog, but 
 he ain t seed one in so long, dat I se almos 
 afeerd dat he dun furgot how ter keep 
 outen de way. B ar git er holt o er dog 
 an dat dog s gone, I tell you. Le s stop 
 right yere, an let him go on out in yan- 
 der." 
 
 The dog ran forward, becoming more 
 and more excited. The trail was evidently 
 warm. The dog barked some distance 
 away. " Hoi on," said the old negro. 
 
74 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Lissun er minut ." Another bark; fol 
 lowed by a distressing howl. Alf sprang 
 forward. Potter and John followed as 
 rapidly as they could through the tangled 
 cane. After a tiresome struggle, they 
 came to a small open space. There lay 
 the dog, dead. The old negro dropped 
 his gun, got down on his knees, and lifted 
 the animal s bleeding head. It was some 
 time before the old negro spoke. His 
 companions, respecting a grief which they 
 saw was deep and stirring, remained 
 silent. At length old Alf said: " Po ole 
 frien . Too ole an stiff in de j ints ter git 
 outen de way. We s all gittin dat way, 
 ole frien . We se gittin so ole an stiff 
 dat we kaint git outen de way o trouble 
 w en we sees it comin down de road. Gen- 
 ermen, I lubed dis yere po dog. He 
 didn know nuthin but ter lub me. He 
 neber seed nuthin wrong wid de ole man. 
 No matter whut I done, it wuz all right 
 ter him. But he gone now I doan know 
 whar but he s gone. Lemme tell you, 
 though (arising and taking up his gun), 
 
Up Terrapin River. 75 
 
 suthin gwine suffer fur dis. Mr. Potten 
 you an John go roun dat way, an I go 
 dis. Ef you hear my gun, come ter me. 
 Ef I hear yo n, I ll come." 
 
 They separated. " I feel sorry for the 
 old fellow," Potter remarked. " He s a 
 man of very deep affections, with all his 
 African peculiarities. Indeed, he has 
 feelings finer than many a man would 
 ascribe to one of his color." 
 
 " I know he is one of the best men I 
 ever seed saw, John replied." " I have 
 hearn folks try to make out that the nig 
 ger ain t got as big a soul as the white 
 man, but nobody s got any bigger soul 
 than Alf has. There s his gun !" . 
 
 Again they struggled through the cane, 
 and again they came upon a small, open 
 space. There they found Alf, sitting on 
 a bear, smoking his pipe and fanning him 
 self with his straw hat. 
 
 " You have him sure enough !" Potter 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Sah ?" Alf replied, with pretended 
 unconcern. 
 
j6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " I say you have killed the bear !" 
 
 " Whut bar ?" 
 
 "Why, the one you are sitting on." 
 
 John was leaning against a tree, shak 
 ing with laughter. He understood the 
 old man. 
 
 "Oh, dis yere b ar." 
 
 "Yes; that bear." 
 
 " Oh, yas, sah ; I got him. Tell you 
 whut it is" (getting up, and putting on his 
 hat), " it won t do fur er b ar ter come kill- 
 in one o my ole frien s. Dangerous, sah, 
 dangerous. Wall, we ll go home now, 
 get de hosses, an drag dis generman ter 
 de house." 
 
 "An enormous animal," said Potter. 
 
 " Cose he is. Oh, I ain t trampin 
 roun de neighborhood er shootin kittens, 
 I tell you." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 77 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 When the bear had been dragged home, 
 skinned and cut up, the work of dividing 
 with the nearest neighbors was begun. 
 John took a choice roast over to Mrs. 
 Forest, whose overflowing expressions of 
 thanks quite embarrassed him, but Eva 
 came forward with such frankness of man 
 ner that his confusion was put to instant 
 flight. 
 
 " Come into the other room," said the 
 girl, "and let me show you some of my 
 books." 
 
 He followed her into a room situated at 
 the end of a gallery that ran the full length 
 of the old log house. The collection 
 numbered but a few volumes, but John 
 opened his eyes in great astonishment. 
 
 " You haven t read all these here, have 
 you ?" he asked. 
 
78 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Oh, yes, some of them many times. 
 It doesn t take long to read them all. 
 After awhile I will lend them to you." 
 
 " I will take good care of them." 
 
 " Oh, I know that. Anyone who 
 would not take care of a book is not 
 worthy of the slightest trust." 
 
 Mrs. Forest came to the door. " Eva," 
 she said, yonder comes that good-for- 
 nothing Bob Juckels. I wish he would 
 stay at home. Look ; he threw a stone at 
 the calf. I could wring his good-for-noth 
 ing neck." 
 
 Eva and John went out onto the gal 
 lery. Bob Juckels climbed over the 
 fence, though the gate was near, and, in 
 a skulking and " scuffing " manner, ap 
 proached. He was just old enough to be 
 "gawky," and was not intelligent enough 
 to understand even the demands of the 
 uncouth politeness of the neighborhood. 
 His face was covered with red freckles, 
 his teeth protruded, and his dingy hair 
 looked as though it might, at some time, 
 have been chewed by a calf. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 79 
 
 " Hi, folks," he said, as he stepped upon 
 the gallery. " Lowed I d drap in an 
 see you erwhile. Pap wanted me ter 
 chop sprouts outen the corners uv the 
 fence ter-day, but I don t feel like it. 
 Ain t this here John Lucas?" 
 
 " Yes," John replied. 
 
 " That s whut I lowed. I was over at 
 ole Lucas house one time ; drapped in 
 ter git a drink uv water, an hanged ef 
 that wife uv hizen didn t skeer me putty 
 nigh ter death. I ain t been thar sense, 
 fur it s sorter outen my range, anyhow. 
 Eva, have you got any fresh water handy ?" 
 
 " Some there in the bucket, I think," 
 the girl replied. 
 
 " Sho it s fresh ?" 
 
 " If it isn t, you know where the well 
 is," said Mrs. Forest. 
 
 11 Yas, ought ter. John, is that yo hoss 
 hitched out thar ?" 
 
 "Yea" 
 
 "Lowed so. Sorter looks like you 
 haw ! haw ! Say, ef you ll go my way I ll 
 ride behind you ?" 
 
80 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " I m not goin your way ; but you 
 shouldn t ride behind me if you was goin 
 
 mine." 
 
 " Reckon we d see erbout that." 
 
 " Well, I must go," said John, address 
 ing Mrs. Forest and Eva. 
 
 " Don t be snatched," Juckles replied. 
 
 John gave the fellow a contemptuous 
 look ; and then, after shaking hands with 
 the ladies, and especially after listening 
 with gratitude to their sincere declara 
 tions that he would ever be a welcome 
 visitor at their house, mounted his horse 
 and rode away. He had not gone far 
 when his saddle-girth broke. He dis 
 mounted, and while he was mending it 
 with a string, Bob Juckels climbed over a 
 fence, and approached him. 
 
 " Lowed I d cut across the field an beat 
 you," said Bob. " That ain t much uv a 
 nag you ve got, nohow. Don t look like 
 he could pull er settin hen offen her 
 nest." 
 
 * He s putty strong," John replied, 
 " but there air some things he can t pull. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 81 
 
 He couldn t pull the truth out of you, for 
 instance." 
 
 " Oh, you air gettin mighty high up 
 sense you been sociatin with that ole 
 nigger an that big red-headed feller. I ve 
 hearn all erbout you." 
 
 " I expect you have hearn more about 
 us than anybody cares to hear about you." 
 
 " Keep on that er way," Bob replied, 
 " an you ll be sharp ernuff ter drive in the 
 ground airter while." 
 
 "Juckels, go on erway now and leave 
 me alone. I don t like you, and I don t 
 want to have anything to do with you." 
 
 " How do you know whuther you like 
 me ur not, when you don t know much 
 erbout me ?" 
 
 " I know enough about you. I ve seen 
 you a number of times. Alf knows you, 
 too." 
 
 "Alf s er ole fool." 
 
 " Go on away, now." 
 
 "Say," said Juckels, "what made you 
 go over thar ter the wider s ?" 
 
 " None of your business." 
 e 
 
82 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Fine-lookin gal they ve got over thar, 
 ain t she ? Ken make er putty fair article 
 uv pie, too, I tell you. Say, I bet I ken 
 outrassle you fur that coat you ve got 
 
 on." 
 
 " I told you to go away." 
 
 " Wall, then, I ken outbox you fur that 
 ar hat." 
 
 John had mended the girth and was 
 trimming a switch that he had cut from a 
 hickory sapling. 
 
 "Did you hear whut I said?" Juckels 
 remarked. 
 
 John, without replying, was preparing 
 to mount his horse, when Juckels took 
 hold of his arm. John wheeled about, 
 and with the switch gave the intruder so 
 sharp a cut across the face that he roared 
 with pain. " Never mind," he yelled as 
 John rode away, "this ain t the last day 
 in the world. You ll hear frum me one 
 uv these days in a way that ll make you 
 squeal." 
 
 John, upon arriving home, found his 
 uncle and aunt. Old Jeff was wheezy 
 
Up Terrapin River. 83 
 
 with a cold which he had caught some 
 time before, while tying fodder at night 
 in the dew. He and his wife had met 
 Alf, who was on his way to take them a 
 piece of bear meat, had faced him about 
 and compelled him to go back with them, 
 declaring that they could take the meat 
 home themselves. 
 
 " I never was mo s prized in my life 
 than when I found you folks had suthin 
 ter eat over here," said Mrs. Lucas. " My 
 consceounce alive, I wush I may never 
 stir agin, ef I didn t spect ter find you 
 all starved ter death." 
 
 Potter looked up with a broad smile, 
 and attempted to make some sort of a 
 pleasant reply, but had no sooner said 
 "madam "than the old woman, using an 
 illustration afterward employed by Alf, 
 " fairly fluttered." " Oh don t call me er 
 madam," she exclaimed. " Gracious knows 
 I didn t come all the way over here ter be 
 madamed. When a man calls a woman 
 madam, he thinks he s done the biggest 
 sorter day s work. Now thar s Jeff grin- 
 e 
 
b"4 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 nin jest like er possum. Do b le ve in 
 my soul he would grin ef the woods was 
 afire." 
 
 " I mout ef I had ter go through em " 
 old Jeff replied. 
 
 "Yes, I ll be bound you would," she 
 answered, giving, as a recognition of his 
 reply, a sort of savage nod. " Wall, we 
 kaint be settin round here allus, Jeff. 
 Let s be gittin on home, fur it ll be night 
 fo we git thar, nohow." 
 
 Winter came. Snowbirds fluttered on 
 the smoking ground where the hogs were 
 fed. The dry and cupped leaf of the 
 hornbeam tree floated down the shivering 
 rivulet, carrying as a cargo the lifeless 
 body of a cricket. 
 
 As the weather grew colder, Alf s 
 daughter seemed to grow weaker. She 
 spoke not of the pain she must have suf 
 fered, but all day, when the wind howled, 
 she sat in a corner near the fire, with her 
 wasted hands clasped and with musing 
 gaze fixed upon the glowing coals. In 
 the night, when the sharp sleet rattled 
 
Up Terrapin River. 85 
 
 against the window when some homeless 
 and abused dog howled dismally on the 
 hill-side old Alf would take her in his 
 arms and walk the floor with her, whisper 
 ing the while soft words of love s encour 
 agement. The winter would soon be gone; 
 the dry and stiffened twig would soon 
 again be "velveted" with buds. He told 
 her to think of the garden that he was go 
 ing to clear for her in the edge of the woods. 
 
 " Doan talk erbout gittin weaker ever 
 day, little angel," he would say. "W y 
 bless me, chile, you -s gittin heavier all 
 time. Huh, airter while it will take er 
 man ez strong ez Mr. Potter ter lif you 
 roun ." But when he would put her down 
 and turn away from her, tears would start 
 from his eyes. One night, after a physi 
 cian had gravely shaken his head and 
 gone away, Alf called Potter and John. 
 
 " Come in yere er minit, genermen," he 
 said. 
 
 They followed him. A large stove had 
 been placed in Alf s room. Two holes in 
 the stove glared like two red eyes. 
 
86 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Can we do anything for her?" Potter 
 asked. 
 
 " I se erfeered not; but I kaint think, 
 sah, dat she s so much wus ter day. Yeres 
 de genermen, Jule. You wanted me to 
 call em." 
 
 She smiled in reply. Alf knelt beside 
 the bed. " You doan feel so much wus, 
 does you, honey ?" 
 
 " No, sah ; I feels much better." 
 
 " Thank de Lawd fur dat. Set down, 
 genermen. Oh, I tole you dat doctor 
 didn know whut he talkin bout. Is you 
 sufferin much pain, little gal ?" 
 
 " No, sah ; none er tall. Whut time is 
 it?" 
 
 "Bout 12 o clock." 
 
 " I thought it wuz day. Ain t dat de 
 sun shinin dar ergin de wall ?" 
 
 "No ; dat s de light frum dem holes in 
 de stove." 
 
 " I thought de fire wuz out," she re 
 plied. " It s so col in yere." 
 
 " Oh, no ; we got er monst us good 
 I put in some hickory chunks jes now. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 87 
 
 " I wush I could see de sun." 
 
 " You ken termor mornin , honey. It s 
 been cloudy, you know, fur two or three 
 days, but it s cl ar now, fur when I looked 
 out jes now, er thousan stars wuz er win- 
 kin at each uder, thinkin dat da got er 
 good joke on de weather." 
 
 " De moon ain t shinin , is it ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "No. It sorter pears like she s got 
 tangled up in de underbresh way over 
 yander on de uder side de hill, but termor 1 
 mornin de sun gwine git up early, an 
 fling er bushel o gold right inter disyere 
 
 room." 
 
 " Daddy ?" 
 
 "Yas, honey." 
 
 "You won t feel too bad ef I tell you 
 suthin , will you ?" 
 
 " No, darlin ." 
 
 " Daddy ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I se dyin ." 
 
 " Oh, doan say dat." He took her 
 hands. " My God, genermen," he ex- 
 
88 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 claimed, she is cold. Oh, fur God s sake, 
 kain t you he p me ? John, kain t Oh, 
 Hebenly Father " 
 
 "Daddy?" 
 
 "Yas, angel." 
 
 " Didn 1 you tell me erbout de good man 
 dat died ?" Daddy, I oh, I se so happy 
 I " 
 
 " My God, she s gone!" exclaimed the 
 old negro ; " gone, gone. Oh, God, have 
 mercy on my po ole heart. Genermen, 
 leave me yere er little while." 
 
 Potter and John went out into the 
 night. The thousand stars were still 
 winking at each other. Without speak 
 ing the two friends turned down toward 
 the river. 
 
 "What noise is that?" Potter asked 
 suddenly stopping. 
 
 It was the wild wailing of AlPs fiddle 
 The old man was pouring out his grief. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 89 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Three years passed. No change had 
 come over the old house where Potter, 
 John, and Alf lived, but the farm was no 
 longer a place half covered with bushes 
 and briers. It was a long time after 
 Jule s death before old Alf regained his 
 wonted cheerfulness ; and one night 
 when she had, for more than two years, 
 been in her grave, old Alf got out of bed, 
 and began to walk up and down the room. 
 Potter, who heard him, asked if he was 
 ill. " Oh, no, sah," he replied. " I am 
 jes walkin wid de speret o my chile." 
 
 To John there had come a great change. 
 He had studied with unwavering determi 
 nation, and had during two winters at 
 tended school at Sunset. From a charge, 
 he had become a companion to Potter, 
 who, during more than one conversation 
 
90 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 with Mrs. Forest and Eva, had said: 
 " That boy has a wonderfully strong and 
 original mind. His teacher declares that 
 he never saw his equal. The mark he is 
 going to make will be deeper than any 
 furrow he has ever plowed." 
 
 Potter and John had spent many 
 pleasant hours at the Forest house. John 
 had read all of Eva s books. He had not 
 stopped at this ; he had bought a number 
 of books which he found in a store at 
 Sunset old books, which were thought 
 by the storekeeper to be hopelessly out 
 of date. He had laughed when John 
 marched proudly away with a sack full of 
 treasures. " That feller will never make 
 a livin ," said the storekeeper. " Why, he 
 give me $5 for a lot of old rubbish that 
 I ve been tumblin about the store for 
 years." John also laughed, but with quiet 
 joy, for in the sack there were " Burns 
 Poems," the " Vicar of Wakefield," " Paul 
 and Virginia," " Plutarch s Lives," and 
 " Macaulay s Essays." One afternoon, 
 John and Eva were strolling along a 
 
Up Terrapin River. 91 
 
 flower-fringed road near Mrs. Forest s 
 house, when the girl remarked: 
 
 " It is not strange to me that you are 
 so different intellectually now from your 
 former self. When I first saw you I knew 
 that this time would come." 
 
 " It is so strange to me," John replied, 
 "that I can scarcely realize it. Oh, of 
 course, I am by no means learned, and 
 doubtless never shall be, but every day I 
 see the light of perseverance thrown upon 
 mysteries which were once dark and stub 
 born. Eva, there is no life so wretched 
 as that of the yearning backwoods boy. 
 His hands are tied ; the dust from the 
 field of ignorance blinds his eyes. But 
 there is hope for every boy. I believe 
 that as a case of hopelessness mine was at 
 one time without a parallel." 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "but you have sat 
 between two remarkable teachers. On 
 one side, a man of books, not a great 
 philosopher, but a man of engaging fancy 
 and bright illustration. On the other side, 
 a child of nature a man who can feel the 
 
92 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 pulse of a leaf, who can hear the beating 
 of the heart of a tree." 
 
 "Yes, but those teachers came to me," 
 John rejoined, "just as opportunities 
 must at some time come to all boys. If 
 I could preach to every farmer boy, or for 
 that matter to every boy, the first word 
 uttered should be books. Yonder 
 comes that fellow Juckels. Let us go 
 back toward the house." 
 
 They turned back, but had not gone far 
 when Juckels overtook them. 
 
 " Out sorter sunin yo selves, I see," he 
 said. John gave him a short "Yes;" 
 Eva said nothing. 
 
 "Tell me, they do, that you air sorter 
 gittin up in the picters, John." 
 
 " I am not studying pictures. I have 
 no intention of becoming an artist." 
 
 " Oh, you know what I mean ? Say, 
 one time er good while ergo, I told you 
 that you would hear from me in a way 
 that would make you squeal. Ricolleck ?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember." 
 
 " Wall, the reason you. ain t is becaze 
 
Up Terrapin River. 93 
 
 I went off down ter my uncle s in the 
 white oak neighborhood, an ever* time I 
 came back you was off at school or some- 
 whar else. Now, don t you think it is 
 erbout time we was havin er settlement ?" 
 
 " I don t owe you anything," John 
 replied. 
 
 " No ; but I owe you suthin ." 
 
 "All right, then, pay it." 
 
 John felt the girl s trembling touch 
 upon his arm. He looked at her, and 
 saw that her face had grown paler. She 
 gave him a look of earnest meaning, and 
 then slowly shook her head. Not another 
 word was spoken until they were within a 
 few steps of Eva s home. Then John, bid 
 ding her good evening, said that he must 
 hurry on and assist Potter and Alf in 
 feeding the cattle. 
 
 " I wish to see you a moment," said 
 the girl, drawing him aside. " Don c have 
 anything to do with that man." She 
 added, in an undertone, " he is utterly 
 without principle." 
 
 41 I will keep an eye on him," John 
 
94 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 replied. " The coward ever seems to 
 fear the light of an open eye quite as 
 much as he does the gleaming of a 
 weapon. Good-evening." 
 
 John walked rapidly, but Juckels, mov 
 ing with a sort of dog trot, soon overtook 
 him. 
 
 " Looks like we mout have rain, John ; 
 the sun s goin ter bed sorter bloody, ez 
 the feller says." 
 
 " Yes," John replied. 
 
 " Hickory switches grow putty plentiful 
 long here, don t they?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Never wuz cut in the face with one, I 
 reckon ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " They say it hurts putty bad." 
 
 " You ought to know." 
 
 " Sho nuff; mebbe, then, I do." 
 
 " I should think so, if you have a good 
 memory." 
 
 " You bet I ve got er good one. Now 
 here, I want you ter polyjise ter me." 
 
 " What for ?" 
 
Up Terrapin River. 95 
 
 " You know, an 1 you ve got ter do it ur 
 suthin is goin ter happen." 
 
 " Something is always happening. If 
 something didn t happen, time would be 
 very dull to some people." 
 
 "Yas; an when suthin do happen, 
 time mout stop ter some people. You ve 
 hearn uv fellers what b l eves that er 
 pistol sometimes snaps, but er knife don t, 
 hain t you?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Wall, I m one uv them fellers." 
 
 11 There are fellows, too, that I suppose 
 you have heard of." 
 
 " Whut sort ?" 
 
 " The kind that would not hesitate a 
 moment to knock you down and kick you 
 across the road. I see your knife, you 
 coward." They had stopped in the road, 
 and were facing each other 
 
 " Yas, an you ll feel " 
 
 John knocked him down with a blow, 
 lightning-like in its quickness, and, with 
 out waiting for him to get up, resumed 
 his brisk walk. Juckels did not follow, 
 
g6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 but in a sort of hoarse roar exclaimed: 
 "You ll hear from me in a way that ll 
 make you squeal! see if you don t." 
 
 When John reached home, he found that 
 the cattle had been fed, and that supper 
 was waiting for him. 
 
 " Suthin gwine ter snatch you up one 
 deze nights an run erway wid you," said 
 Alf, slyly winking at Potter. " Keep on 
 prowlin round de woods at night, an 
 you ll see bimeby. Set up dar now an 
 eat some o dem fish me an Mr. Potter 
 dun cotch. B l ebes da bites in dis airly 
 fall weder better den da do in de spring. 
 Yo Aunt Liz wuz ober yere terday, an 
 wuz powerful stonished ter see dat we 
 ain t dun starved ter death yit. When she 
 seed deze new cheers an table it made de 
 ole lady open her eyes, I tell you. Seed 
 dat pizen feller Juckels pokin roun down 
 by de river bout dinner time. Dat feller 
 ain t gwine ter come ter no good. I lay 
 er rattlesnake gwine ter bite him some 
 day. Huh, an I lay it ll kill de snake, 
 too." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 97 
 
 John then related his adventure with 
 Juckels. " Why, you ought to have 
 stamped the life out of the scoundrel," 
 Potter exclaimed. " Don t you know that 
 he might hide behind a tree and shoot 
 you. I will go over to-morrow, see his 
 father, and tell him that unless something 
 is done his son is likely to be badly hurt. 
 Why, it is an outrage." 
 
 " Doan reckon it is much use ter see his 
 daddy," Alf replied. "W y, dat feller is 
 older den John, an I doan reckon his 
 daddy ken do much wid him." 
 
 " That may be, but something must be 
 done. By the way, this morning while 
 strolling up the river I met two well- 
 dressed men, horseback, who asked me if 
 I knew who was cutting that cedar timber 
 away up beyond Rocky Bend." 
 
 Alf opened his eyes and straightened 
 up. "You didn know o co se," he said, 
 with the thickness of a half-strangled 
 whisper. 
 
 "Why, yes; I told them that four or 
 five brothers named Dun were doing it." 
 
 7 
 
98 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " Den de Lawd hab mussy on us ! " the 
 old negro exclaimed. 
 
 " What difference did it make ? I don t 
 understand you." 
 
 " Oh, I tended ter tell you bout dat, but 
 it s too late now, for we se gone. Lawd, da s 
 got you po ole servant on de hip ergin !" 
 
 " Alf, are you crazy ?" 
 
 " No, sah ; an I se erfeerd I won t be 
 nuthin putty soon. Mr. Potter, dat 
 cedar timber up dar is on guberment Ian , 
 an dem men dat axed you erbout it wuz 
 guberment men. W y, nobody in dis 
 yere neighborhood would er tole on dem 
 Duns, fur da s de wust men you eber seed. 
 Da ll dodge dem guberment men an 
 come right yere airter us. Doan ax me 
 how da ll fine out who tole on em, fur I 
 lay da knows dis minit. Did anybody 
 yere you tole em ?" 
 
 " There was a man fishing close by." 
 
 " Dat settles it. Lawd, da dun built er 
 nudder fire un er yo po ole servant." 
 
 " I didn t think to caution Mr, Potter," 
 said John. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 99 
 
 " Too late ter talk erbout it now," Alf 
 went on. " Dem Duns comin right yere 
 dis night, set dis house erfire an shoot us 
 ez we runs out." 
 
 " The situation is serious," Potter 
 admitted. 
 
 " Serious !" Alf exclaimed. " Does you 
 call it serious fur er man ter run outen 
 de house ter keep frum bein burnt up an* 
 den git shot down like er deer ? Oh, 
 Lawd, you better take yo po servant 
 home, caze he kain t git erlong down 
 yere. 1 
 
 " I didn t mean to harm the Dun 
 brothers or in the least meddle with their 
 affairs," said Potter, " but if they hold my 
 action to be of such mortal sin and come 
 to this house to seek a bloody revenge I 
 shall deem it my duty to shoot them." 
 
 " That is the way to talk," John replied. 
 
 " Yes," said Alf, " it s de way ter talk, 
 an it s de way ter ack, too, but de danger 
 is in em settin de house erfire. Wall, 
 I se got er powerful good ole gun yere, an 
 ef I draw down on one o dem men he U 
 
ioo Up Terrapin River. 
 
 wish he had er staid at home, I tell you. 
 We d better put deze lights out, caze dem 
 raskils ken slip up yere an shoot us 
 through de cracks." 
 
 Action upon the old negro s advice was 
 immediately taken. The wind began to 
 howl furiously. A rumbling, low and 
 distant, proclaimed with sullen threaten 
 ing the coming of a storm. Nearer, 
 nearer the rumbling came, and glittering 
 spears of blinding light were thrust with 
 angry flashing through the chink holes of 
 the wall. The wind became more violent, 
 the rumbling burst into a deafening clap, 
 and ragged sheets of water lashed the 
 house. The lingering lightning, quiver 
 ing in fearful dalliance, as though loth to 
 sink back into the dark and surging cloud, 
 wrought upon the river, which could be 
 seen through the window, a thousand 
 terror-breeding shapes great monsters 
 that lashed the water into fiery foam. 
 
 " We better put down deze yere guns an 
 pray erwhile," said Alf. " Oh, Lawd, is 
 you gwine ter let de elements kill yo po 
 
Up Terrapin River. 101 
 
 ole servant ? My greshus, yere dem limbs 
 strikin de house ! Dar ain t been no sich 
 er storm ez dis mussyful hebens, is de 
 house down ! Oh, I thought we gone 
 dat time, sho. Deze ole logs wuz put 
 yere ter stay dat is, I hopes so." 
 
 " This storm will protect us from the 
 Duns until morning, at least," Potter re 
 joined. " This lightning will purify our 
 air against their poisonous vapors." 
 
 " Then," said John, "let us hope that 
 this wind is not ill. Mr. Potter, you 
 remember the first day I ever saw you, 
 when we were sitting in the yard dis 
 cussing a plan upon which, to me at least, 
 there has fallen such a promise of ripeness, 
 you said that I might think it strange that 
 you should seek to bury yourself here in 
 the woods." 
 
 "Yes, I remember." 
 
 "And you said that some time in the 
 future you hoped to tell me the cause." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, is not this a most befitting time ? 
 If a storm drove you to this place let a 
 
IO2 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 storm drive out to me your confidence. I 
 have often seen you put your book aside 
 and give yourself to moments of so deep 
 a brooding that, though I would not seek 
 to be obtrusive, I have tried to study out 
 your mystery. This storm, I think, is 
 growing worse. To-morrow well, to 
 morrow we may not be here. Tell me 
 
 now." 
 
 A lingering, quivering light fell on Pot 
 ter s face, and under the glare John could 
 see the darkened lines of trouble. 
 
 "No, my dear boy, I can not tell you 
 now. That I have confidence in you, you 
 well know ; that I have an affection for 
 you, you must feel. I have watched the 
 soft color of sadness which I once saw 
 under the sunburn on your face grow 
 brighter with an eager glow. I have seen 
 your mind unfold, and each day have 
 found something new in you to admire, 
 but I can not tell you what you crave to 
 know. There, the lightning is growing 
 dimmer. From a roar the wind is shrink 
 ing to a wail." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 103 
 
 " Yas," said Alf, "an I thank de Lawd 
 fur it, too ; I tell you dat. It won t do 
 ter fool wid one deze yere storms dat puts 
 on er black nightcap an w ars red ribbons 
 at its throat. I think we mout ez well lay 
 down yere now an sleep erwhile. Dem 
 men ain t gwine ter come yere ter-night ; 
 but I do b l ebe da ll be yere in de maw- 
 nin ; an ef da block us up in yere de 
 neighbors will jes let us stay yere an 
 starve, caze, I tell yo, da so monst us 
 feerd o dem fellers." 
 
 They had not long to wait when morn 
 ing came until they saw that Alf s predic 
 tion had not been an idle one ; for when 
 Potter opened the door to look out, there 
 came a short report from an opposite hill 
 side, and a bullet sent splinters flying from 
 the door facing. 
 
 " Shet de do ," Alf cried. " Grab yo 
 guns an lay down on de flo . When de 
 sun comes up da gwine shoot through 
 deze yere cracks. Oh, Lawd, da s still 
 atter yo po ole servant. Lissun how da 
 shoot. Biz ! Yere dem balls !" 
 
IO4 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " If I can get a sight at one of them," 
 said Potter, peering through a hole in the 
 wall, I think that I can relieve him from 
 duty. Boys, shoot, anyway." 
 
 A brisk firing was now begun on each 
 side. A small mirror flew into fragments 
 and fell on the floor. A dish pan with a 
 ringing "tang" fell from the wall. 
 
 " Oh, de scounule," said Alf. " It s er 
 powerful good thing for us dat dar ain t 
 no cracks closer ter de flo . Helloa ! 
 What s de matter ? Thank de Lawd, w y 
 look yander ; de guberment men is airter 
 
 em." 
 
 Indeed, a deputy United States marshal 
 and his men had arrived, and the Duns, 
 five in number, were captured, not how 
 ever until two of them had been severely 
 wounded. The prisoners were brought 
 to the house, where one man, a sort of 
 physician, attended to the wounded. 
 
 " I am very sorry that we got you into 
 trouble," said the deputy marshal, address 
 ing Potter, "but you have greatly aided 
 us in breaking up this gang." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 105 
 
 " What will you do with them ?" Potter 
 asked. 
 
 " They will be sent to the United States 
 prison at Detroit. They have stolen a 
 great deal of valuable timber, for which 
 the government has use, and their terms 
 are not likely to be short. I don t think 
 you need to fear any more trouble, as the 
 entire gang is now broken up. Well, 
 boys, go and get the wagon and we will 
 haul our violent woodchoppers to Little 
 Rock." 
 
 That night old Alf, taking down his 
 fiddle, remarked: "Got ter hab some 
 music, now. Oh, I tell yer dat when er 
 man praises de Lawd wid er little music 
 now an den, it takes er mighty powerful 
 evil speret ter lay his claw on him." 
 
io6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 One evening old Alf, having put away 
 the supper dishes, took down his fiddle 
 and began to twang its strings, but failing 
 to feel his wonted interest in the instru 
 ment, put it down and then sought diver 
 sion in the humming of an old "corn- 
 shucking " song ; but again meeting with 
 failure, he got up, sadly shook his head, 
 and began to walk up and down the room. 
 Potter and John, who were reading, paid 
 no attention. Suddenly he exclaimed: 
 
 " Uh, huh, now I got it, got it sho." 
 
 " What have you got?" Potter asked. 
 
 "W y, sah, got de reason dat I se 
 troubled in my mine dis ebeninV 
 
 "Are you troubled?" 
 
 "Is I troubled? Now, dat s er fine 
 question ter ax er man dat has been 
 carryin on like I has. Ain t my fiddle 
 
Up Terrapin River. 107 
 
 fused ter talk ter me, an ain t er old song 
 dun failed ter fetch de co n-bread crumbs 
 o comfort ? Tibby sho. Now, whut s 
 de matter ? Suthin dat I needs. Whut 
 is dat suthin ? W y, I needs ter go er 
 possum huntin , sah, dat s whut I needs. 
 I dreamed last night dat I seed er piece 
 o fat meat an er sweet pertater er raslin*. 
 I knowed it meant suthin , but I didn 
 know whut till jes now. It means dat 
 we got ter go er possum huntin dis yere 
 very night, sah. How do it hit you ?" 
 " I m willing. What do you say, John ?" 
 " Suits me exactly," Jt>hn. replied. 
 " Then, let us get ready and go at 
 once," said Potter. " There is no retro 
 spective hand that reaches so kindly out 
 of the past and touches me with a thrill 
 of so endearing a memory as the hand 
 that comes out from under the hazy 
 curtain of an Indian-summer night and 
 gently draws me back into a hallowed 
 past, when, with eager footsteps, I fol 
 lowed the negroes on my father s farm to 
 the place where the dogs had treed." 
 
io8 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 11 *"as, I reckon so," Alf replied ; " I do 
 reckon dat ; yas, sah, I do. I doan know 
 nuthin bout no arm comin out, but I 
 knows dat de ricollection o some frosty 
 nights in ole North Kliny makes me wush 
 dat I wuz dar, er boy ergin. But let us 
 go on ef we gwine, caze it s been some 
 time sense de oven has shined wid de 
 sweet grease o de possum. Deze new 
 dogs we got, I doan know so much erbout 
 em. Wush Ole Pete neber mine, dat s 
 all right. Lawd, yo ole servant bout ter 
 grumble ergin." 
 
 They went out into the beautiful night. 
 Nature was so hushed that the rythmic 
 flow of the river could be heard. The 
 stars seemed to shine through a gauzy 
 sheen. In the air there was a faltering 
 promise of the coming of winter. On a 
 log, where the moonbeams fell, there lay 
 a substance of greenish white. It was a 
 dead tree-toad. 
 
 " Let s cross dis fiel ," said Alf, " an skirt 
 long de edge o de woods whar de sim- 
 mon trees grows. Whoop ee! [calling to 
 
Up Terrapin River. 
 
 the dogs]. Git em down, ole boys. 
 Whoop ee, git em down!" 
 
 The old negro was joyous. He hummed 
 old tunes. " I doan know whut make 
 dem varmints so skace ter-night," said he. 
 
 " Knowing that you were coming after 
 them, they have doubtless all left the 
 country," John replied. 
 
 " I reckon you s hit it, sah ; I reckon 
 you has, caze when I starts out, suthin 
 mighty nigh sho ter happen. Whoop- 
 shove em ole boys! Whoop, push em!" 
 
 " Hold on a minute," said Potter, stop 
 ping. " What is the cause of that bright 
 light over yonder?" 
 
 " Bresh heep er burnin whar somebody 
 cl arin up new groun , I reckon," Alf 
 replied. 
 
 " Not that," John remarked. "A brush 
 heap would hardly send its light so high/ 
 
 " Dat s er fack," the old man admitted. 
 
 " That is someone s house on fire," said 
 Potter. " Who lives over that way ?" 
 
 " Miz Forest s house is ober dat way ef 
 I ain t turned rounV 
 
no Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " It is her house!" John exclaimed, 
 bounding forward. " Come on!" 
 
 They ran with the speed of utmost 
 exertion. John gained on his companions. 
 He jumped over a rail fence without 
 touching it. " Come on," he cried. They 
 could now plainly see the house. The 
 roof was in flames. No one could be seen 
 near the burning building. " Is it possible 
 that they are burning up ?" John thought. 
 
 He reached the yard fence, cleared it at 
 a bound, ran across the yard, sprang 
 upon the gallery, and threw himself with 
 all his weight against the door. It did 
 not yield. " Eva," he cried, beating on 
 the door. " Eva!" No answer came. 
 He leaped from the gallery, seized the 
 door-step, a ponderous log, staggered 
 upon the gallery and threw the log against 
 the door. An oak latch snapped and 
 the door flew open. He did not rush into 
 the room. His sense of modesty, even at 
 such a time, forbade it, but with a loud 
 voice he exclaimed: " For God s sake 
 come out ; your house is on fire." The 
 
Terrapin River. 1 1 1 
 
 next moment Mrs. Forest and Eva, 
 almost frantic with excitement, but 
 wrapped in the clothes which they had 
 gathered from the bed, rushed from the 
 room. By this time Potter and Alf had 
 arrived. They dashed into the house to 
 save what furniture they could. " Don t 
 be excited," said Potter. " Fire is drop 
 ping down, but it will take quite a while 
 for those oak rafters to burn in two. 
 Carry out the trunks ; we can save all the 
 clothes. Here, Alf, you are too much 
 excited. Where is John?" 
 
 John had thought of Eva s books, and 
 although that end of the house was 
 almost entirely wrapped in flames, was 
 exerting himself in the dangerous work of 
 saving the cherished volumes, and before 
 the roof fell in, he had carried out the 
 last book. A number of the neighbors 
 soon arrived, for the cry of " Fire!" "Fire!" 
 had echoed through the woods. Mrs. 
 Forest and Eva, having dressed them 
 selves in the barn, stood looking at the 
 destruction of their home. 
 
112 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " I don t know how it could have 
 happened," said Mrs. Forest. " It must 
 have caught from the upper part of the 
 chimney. I don t know how to thank you 
 all. The fact that this is the first time I 
 have ever been placed under such serious 
 obligations, makes me awkward in acknowl 
 edging them. Eva, can t you say some 
 thing ?" 
 
 The girl stood trembling. John stood 
 near her. " No," she replied, " I I 
 don t know " She burst into tears. 
 
 " Come, daughter, we are going home 
 with Mrs. Patterson and stay until we can 
 have another house built." 
 
 The next day John went over to 
 Patterson s. Mrs. Forest and Eva, with 
 that strong recuperative force found 
 among people who live in the woods, had 
 recovered from the effect of the excite 
 ment of the previous night. 
 
 " Let us walk over and look at the 
 ruins," said John, addressing Eva. 
 
 " There is but little to look at," she 
 replied, " but we will go." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 1 1 3 
 
 They spoke but few words as they 
 crossed the fields, but each one felt that 
 the other was not unhappy. The leaves 
 on the running brier were red, and the 
 velvety top of the sassafras sprout was 
 cool to the touch. 
 
 There was nothing left of the old house 
 but a few smoldering chunks. John and 
 Eva sat down on a log that had served as 
 a horse-block. 
 
 " It would have been a great disappoint 
 ment to me, Eva, if your books had not 
 been saved." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " but they were not 
 worth so great a risk." 
 
 " Oh, the risk was nothing. All that 
 was required was a little activity." 
 
 They were silent for some time, and 
 then John remarked: 
 
 " How strange everything has been. I 
 used to fear that there never would be a 
 time when I could talk to you without 
 embarrassment. This fear did not come 
 from any word or action of yours, but 
 from a true estimate of myself." 
 
 8 
 
114 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 " How a true estimate ?" 
 
 "Why, an almost overpowering knowl 
 edge of my own ignorance." 
 
 She gave him an imploring look. He 
 continued: 
 
 " You have ever been kind to me. You 
 have helped me, inspired me. I know 
 nothing of the world, but I know grati 
 tude. When I am reading a book, and 
 hold so much within rny grasp, the world 
 seems very small ; but when I look away 
 at the clouds floating far beyond the 
 hills, I then feel that the world is very 
 large. But, Eva, may it be large or small, 
 there is to me but one source of true 
 happiness. You are that source, my 
 angel. I love you love you. When I 
 am near you nature is more beautiful. 
 There is religion in the soft light of your 
 eyes. There is the thrill of deep poetry in 
 every sound of your voice. I do not come 
 to you with pleading, for I feel that you 
 love me not because I have done you a 
 service, but because our souls, waving in a 
 perfumed atmosphere, touch each other." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 1 1 5 
 
 -John." 
 
 " Yes, angel." 
 
 " You are the only human being who 
 has ever understood me ; you are the only 
 human being whom I have ever under 
 stood. Yes, I do love you loved you 
 when I saw you with a child s primer in 
 your hand loved you when I saw you a 
 grasping student of rhetoric. That we 
 should love each other, seems to me as 
 natural as that the sun should shine. It 
 could be the only result of our association." 
 
 He put his arm about her and drew her 
 closer to him. " Eva, as you say, love 
 could be the only result of our association; 
 and now do you not know that there can 
 be but one true result of our love ?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " only one." 
 
 The neighbors soon decided to build 
 Mrs. Forest another house. The building 
 of a log house in the country is looked 
 upon as a sort of holiday frolic, and there 
 is no man in the immediate neighborhood 
 too busy with his own affairs to lend a 
 helping hand. The new house was built 
 
 8 
 
1 1 6 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 upon the same site, and after the same 
 pattern as the old one. 
 
 Eva had, one day, just finished arrang 
 ing her books, when Bob Juckels stepped 
 upon the gallery. 
 
 " Hi," said he, as he reached into an 
 adjoining room, drew out a chair and sat 
 down. 
 
 " Mr. Juckels, I want you to go away 
 from here," the girl replied. 
 
 She stood in the library door. He 
 looked up at her, with an attempt at a 
 smile, but with the result of an ugly grin. 
 
 " Pretty good house you got here. 
 Woulder come over ter the raisin , but I 
 didn t wanter meet Lucas, fur when I 
 meet him, we re goin ter mix. I m me, 
 let me tell you that." He took out a 
 bottle of whisky, shook it, held it up, 
 squinted at it and then took a drink. The 
 girl was afraid of him. Her mother had 
 gone over to a neighbor s house. 
 
 " Putty good house you ve got here. 
 Made outen green logs an* it won t burn 
 ez easy ez the old one did. Say, did you 
 
Up Terrapin River. 117 
 
 tell Lucas that I had axed you ter marry 
 
 V 
 
 me ? 
 
 " No ; I dislike you so much that I do 
 not mention your name to anyone." 
 
 "Good idee. Wall, I ve come ter ax 
 you agin." 
 
 "And I tell you that I wouldn t marry 
 you to save my life. I despise you." 
 
 " That don t make no diffunce ter me, 
 fur airter we was married erwhile you 
 would git over that. When I axed you 
 befo an you lowed you wouldn t, I said 
 you would hear from me." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He shook the bottle again, and took 
 another drink. "An you did hear frum 
 me," he said, after a few moments silence. 
 
 " I don t know that I have." 
 
 He laughed with a low and malicious 
 chuckle, looked about him, looked up at 
 the rafters, looked down at the floor, 
 chuckled again, and said : 
 
 "Ever thing new." 
 
 " I don t understand you," Eva replied. 
 
 " Reckon not. Wimin kain t grab er 
 
n8 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 p int ez quick ez men ken. I mean that I 
 sot yo house afire. Hoi on, now ; hoi on. 
 Go ter cuttin up an it won t be good fur 
 you, an mo n that, ef you ever breathe er 
 word uv whut I ve said it ll be good-by ter 
 you an that feller Lucas, too. Green logs 
 mout not burn, but thar s suthin else that 
 will. Powder ll burn, er haw, haw! Yes, 
 it ll burn like er flash." 
 
 "Oh, you wretch!" 
 
 " Yas ; that s whut the grasshopper 
 lowed, but the wild turkey picked him 
 up all the same. Wall, I must be shovin 
 erlong; sorter knockin round fur my 
 health. I ll come over agin ter-morrer an 
 see whut you ve got ter say. But, my 
 lady, ef you say er word ter yo mother, 
 ur anybody else, it ll be good-by ter the 
 whole kit an bilin uv you." 
 
 A few hours later, while Potter, John, 
 and Alf were strolling along the river 
 bank, they came upon Juckels. He stood 
 with one hand resting upon a rock that 
 protruded from a rugged cliff. An empty 
 whisky bottle lay on the ground. As the 
 
Up Terrapin River. 119 
 
 men approached, Juckels looked up with 
 a frown, and, with thick utterance, said: 
 
 " I want you fellers ter go on erway 
 frum here now. Never mind, Lucas, I 
 am goin ter settle with you." 
 
 "Any time will suit me," John replied. 
 
 "My time will suit me" Juckels re 
 joined. " It don t make no diffunce 
 whuther it suits you or not. But I want 
 you fellers ter go on erway frum here now, 
 fur I got here fust an this is mine." 
 
 " Whut is yo n ?" Alf asked. 
 
 " This possum." 
 
 " Whar s any possum ?" 
 
 " Under this here rock ; that s whar." 
 
 " What s er possum doin under dat 
 rock when dar s plenty trees fur him ter 
 climb!" Alf asked. 
 
 "That s none uv yo lookout," said 
 Juckels. " He s under this rock, an I m 
 goin ter crawl up under thar arter him/ 1 
 
 Alf looked at the ground, examined a 
 number of tracks, and then remarked : 
 " Co se you ken do what you please bout 
 dis yere matter, but ef you wuz er frien 
 
I2O Up Terrapin River. 
 
 o mine I d t ar yo coat mightily er holdin 1 
 ter you fo Pd let you go up under dar. v 
 
 " Yas, I reckon you would t ar er feller s 
 coat, an take it erway frum him too, ef 
 you could." 
 
 " Oh, go on up under de rock ef you 
 wants to," Alf exclaimed; "but I tell you 
 now dat ef you wuz er frien o 1 mine I d 
 beg you might ly not ter go under dar." 
 
 "You air er old thief, an 7 want me ter 
 leave this possum so you ken git him." 
 
 "Come," said Potter, "there is no oc 
 casion for such language." 
 
 " This ain t none uv yo er fair, nuther," 
 Juckels responded. " Pm goin under thar, 
 an that s all thar is erbout it." 
 
 He threw his hat aside, kicked the 
 whisky bottle into the river, got down on 
 his hands and knees, and crawled under 
 the rock. The men had turned to go 
 away, when there issued from under the 
 rock the most frightful noises the yells 
 of Juckels and the fierce shrieking of 
 furious animals. Juckels rolled out from 
 under the cliff. He was literally covered 
 
Up Terrapin River. 121 
 
 with wildcats. The men ran to his assist 
 ance. The animals ran back into their 
 den. Juckels was unable to speak. He 
 was bleeding from many wounds, and 
 when he breathed, blood bubbled from a 
 hole in his throat. Some time elapsed 
 before a word was spoken. 
 
 " We must take him home," Potter said. 
 " Cut down some saplings and we will 
 make a stretcher." 
 
 They started on their burdensome and 
 solemn march, and must have gone two 
 miles, when Alf said : 
 
 " We mout ez well put him down now 
 an rest erwhile." 
 
 " No," replied Potter; " let us hurry on 
 so that a physician may be summoned." 
 
 " Dar ain t no use n er doctor," said Alf. 
 " De man is dun dead." 
 
 So he was. They put down the stretcher. 
 The sounds of hoofs attracted their atten 
 tion. 
 
 " Yonder comes Mrs. Forest," said 
 John. 
 
 "Yes," replied Potter, "and I will meet 
 
122 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 her and guide her away from this awful 
 sight." 
 
 " You are the very man I want to see," 
 cried Mrs, Forest when Potter approached 
 within hailing distance. " I am on my 
 way to your house to consult you," she 
 added, reining up the horse when they 
 met in the road. "I want to ask your 
 advice about something. That good-for- 
 nothing Bob Juckels has told Eva that he 
 set fire to our house, and has declared that 
 he will kill us all if we I hardly know 
 what all he didn t say, but I want to ask 
 you if you think it best to have him 
 arrested !" 
 
 " He is beyond the power of the law, 
 Mrs. Forest. Yonder he lies dead." 
 
Up Terrapin River. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Two more years, years without especial 
 incident to the people who lived up Ter 
 rapin River, passed away. Everyone 
 knew of John and Eva s bethrothal, and 
 as no one had any objections to offer, 
 there came not a jar, not a harsh sound 
 to disturb the smoothly flowing current 
 of their affection. One evening, as Potter 
 and John sat in the old house awaiting the 
 return of Alf, who had gone to Sunset to 
 make some small purchases, the young 
 man, after many minutes of deep medita 
 tion, looked up and remarked : 
 
 " I have worked harder of late in the 
 hope that I might make money enough to 
 place my approaching marriage upon a 
 sensible footing, but it seems 
 
 " There, my boy," Potter broke in, 
 "there now, don t worry. Of course 
 
124 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 every man should look to the future, but 
 not to brood in dark foreboding. We are 
 getting along very well, and I think you 
 may safely there s Alf." 
 
 The old man came in bringing several 
 bundles. " Fetchtaked fellers ober yan- 
 der," said he, "put er brick under my 
 saddle when I had my hoss hitched, an 
 when I got on ter come home w y de old 
 critter flung me in de road. Huh, when 
 I hit de groun I thought de whole face o 
 de yeth dun struck loose. Suthin gwine 
 obertake dem boys one deze days. Da s 
 dun forgot erbout dem she bears dat 
 grabbed up dem mean white chillun when 
 da made fun o er old servant. Suthin 
 gwine ter obertake em, I tell you. Oh, 
 you neenter laugh, genermen, fur suthin 
 gwine ter slip up behin em an grab em, 
 sho." 
 
 They had eaten supper, and Potter, in 
 his favorite position, was leaning back 
 against the wall, when a newspaper in 
 which one of the bundles had been 
 wrapped, attracted his attention. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 125 
 
 "Alf, hand me that paper," said he. 
 " I would subscribe for some paper if we 
 lived nearer a post office. Ah ! a country 
 sheet from Kentucky. Let me see if 
 Uncle Billie Jackson was in town yester 
 day, or if Aunt Nancy Phelps has the 
 thanks of the editor for a choice lot of 
 radishes. I see that Uncle Bob Redmond 
 has sold a fine colt to Anthony Boyle, and 
 here is also the startling information that 
 Abe Stallcup has purchased the old Adams 
 place. I suppose He started. 
 
 The paper shook. He sprang from the 
 chair, pressed his hands to his head, sank 
 upon his knees, clasped his hands and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 -Thank God! Thank God! Oh, 
 merciful heaven, it has come at last !" 
 
 He bowed his head and wept. John 
 and Alf stood looking on in speechless 
 amazement. 
 
 " Thank God. it has come at last. Oh, 
 my friends you you " 
 
 " What is the matter ?" John cried. 
 
 " Wait. I I will tell you. Here," he 
 
126 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 added, " read this. Read it out for I 
 have only seen its aim." 
 
 John took the paper and read the 
 following : 
 
 " A number of years ago, our readers 
 will remember, Hon. Sam Bradwell, who 
 lived near Lexington, this State, was con 
 victed of the murder of Colonel Joe 
 Moore, and was sentenced to be hanged, 
 but made his escape the night before the 
 execution was to take place. Now comes 
 a sequel. About two weeks ago a man 
 named Zack Fry, supposing that he was 
 on his death-bed, confessed that he was 
 the murderer of Moore. But instead of 
 dying, he soon recovered. He was then 
 brought to trial, and, instead of attempt 
 ing to make a defense, reiterated his con 
 fession. He was sentenced to be hanged, 
 and his execution took place last Friday. 
 The Governor has issued a proclamation 
 declaring Bradwell innocent, and offers a 
 reward for intelligence of his whereabouts. 
 Bradwell was one of the most prominent 
 men in the State. He was a bachelor and 
 
Up Terrapin River. 127 
 
 owns one of the largest and finest farms 
 in the famous Blue Grass region. He 
 had served three terms in the Legislature, 
 and but for the Moore trouble would 
 doubtless have been sent to Congress. 
 He and Moore were not on friendly 
 terms in fact, they were opposed to each 
 other in the House of Representatives, of 
 which body Moore was also a member. 
 Nothing has been heard of Bradwell 
 since his escape from jail. He has no 
 very near relatives, and his farm, we 
 understand, is looked after by a number 
 of his friends. There is great rejoicing, 
 we hear, over the proof of his innocence, 
 for he was exceedingly popular with all 
 classes, and especially so with the more 
 refined element. Nearly every paper 
 throughout the country has either pub 
 lished or referred to the Governor s proc 
 lamation, and we sincerely trust that the 
 wanderer may soon return home." 
 
 Potter, or Bradwell, stood complacently 
 smiling upon John as he neared the end 
 of the article. His excitement had passed 
 
128 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 away, leaving not the slightest trace of 
 its sudden bursting forth. John sat in a 
 sort of dazed silence, gazing at his friends, 
 and Alf, whose half-open mouth bespoke 
 a mystified state of mind, stood leaning 
 against the wall. 
 
 " Now, my friends," said Bradwell, "you 
 know why Sam Potter lived in this out-of- 
 the-way place. Let us all be perfectly 
 easy now. Alf, sit down. You look as 
 though you were about to be hanged. I 
 will walk up and down the room, as it 
 would be almost impossible for me to 
 keep still, and will tell you the story of 
 my trouble in Kentucky. As the news 
 paper article states, Moore and I were 
 members of the Legislature. One day he 
 introduced a bill, the passage of which I 
 did not think would be of benefit to the 
 State. In fact, it was full of what we 
 called buncombe, and was, I thought, 
 intended to play upon an unthoughtful 
 constituency and insure the re-election of 
 its author I opposed the measure, and 
 was somewhat instrumental in its defeat, 
 
Up Terrapin River. 129 
 
 This inflamed Moore s anger. He de 
 nounced me in most violent terms, and 
 swore that he would hold me to an 
 account which might prove painful to one 
 of us. The Legislature adjourned the 
 next day, and, as I did not make it my 
 business to look for Moore, I left the 
 capital without seeing him. He lived 
 near Lexington, to the east ; I lived west. 
 One day, several weeks later, while riding 
 horseback to town, I saw, sitting on a 
 fence, a hawk that had just caught a 
 quail. I drew my pistol and fired at the 
 hawk, but missed it. I went on into 
 town, and, as I was going to remain but a 
 very short time, did not put up my horse 
 at a livery stable, but tied him to a rack 
 in a lot in the rear of several stores. I 
 had transacted my business, and was 
 going through an alley leading to the 
 lot, when I heard the report of a pistol. I 
 hurried onward, and, upon turning into 
 the lot, came upon the dead body of 
 Moore. A bullet had passed through his 
 head. Before I had recovered from the 
 
130 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 shock of so ghastly a discovery, several 
 men ran to the place, and it was not long 
 until a large crowd had gathered in the 
 lot. I did not think of my position, and 
 surely had no idea that I should be sus 
 pected. You may therefore well imagine 
 my surprise when the sheriff arrested me. 
 I was searched. One chamber of my 
 revolver was empty, and, still worse, the 
 bullet which had passed through Moore s 
 head, and which was extracted from a 
 cedar post, corresponded in size with the 
 bore of my pistol. I was taken to jail. 
 The next day bail was refused. This was 
 annoying, but aside from being suspected 
 of so grave a charge, I did not regard the 
 affair as serious. I had not counted upon 
 the men whom I had to fight I had not 
 thought of Moore s enraged relatives. The 
 trial came on. There was great excite 
 ment. I had many friends, but it seemed 
 that they were afraid of the Moores. 
 The jury was cowed. A verdict of guilty 
 was brought in. A motion for a new 
 trial was overruled. My lawyers, promi- 
 
Up Terrapin River. 131 
 
 nent and able men, appealed to the 
 supreme court. The decision of the 
 court below was sustained. The date of 
 execution was fixed. I could not realize 
 it. One day I saw through my grated 
 window that men were putting up a scaf 
 fold in the jail yard. My blood ran cold. 
 Far into the night they carried their 
 labors. Lanterns, like the red eyes of 
 vultures, shed a lurid I thought bloody 
 light upon the scene. I heard the ham 
 mers and saws. A nail glanced under 
 the blow of a hammer and struck my win 
 dow. It fell inside the cell. The ham 
 mers and saws hushed their awful noises. 
 All done, Dave ? I heard someone ask. 
 Yes, came the reply ; everything s 
 ready. The workmen went away. The 
 red eyes disappeared, and all was dark. 
 I got down from the window and found 
 the nail. It was a large one. The win 
 dow through which I had been looking 
 was some distance from the floor. The 
 Sheriff s officer in the yard rarely glanced 
 at it. I heard the death watch whistling 
 
132 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 in the corridor. I climbed up to the 
 window. The ends of the bars, where 
 they fitted into the stones on each side of 
 the window, were made more secure with 
 lead that had been melted and poured 
 about them. With the nail I soon gouged 
 away the lead from one of the bars, but 
 the bar could. not be moved. I attempted 
 to gouge out more lead. I dropped the 
 nail. It fell outside. In despair I seized 
 the bar and fell backward. It broke. A 
 thrill shot through me. Had anyone 
 heard me ? No. The death watch 
 continued to whistle. The broken bar 
 was a powerful lever. Another bar and 
 another one was forced out, until not one 
 remained. I looked out. No sounds 
 all darkness. I went through the window, 
 feet foremost, and dropped to the ground. 
 Heavens, I could not scale the outer wall ! 
 I thought of the scaffold. It was near the 
 wall. I mounted it. A rope dangled 
 from a beam overhead. I seized the rope, 
 swung out, turned loose and caught the 
 top of the wall. In a moment more I 
 
Up Terrapin River. 133 
 
 was on the ground free. I sank upon 
 my knees and thanked God. I was 
 afraid to go home, so, without a cent of 
 money, I set out on my journey. I will 
 not speak of my privations, of the weary 
 miles I walked of how I worked on a 
 new railroad, and how I managed to get 
 a few books. But I will say this, my 
 dear boy, your face was the first to beam 
 upon the outcast a true and generous 
 welcome. There, there now. I am sorry 
 that my simple recital has moved you to 
 tears. Alf, what are you blubbering 
 about ?" 
 
 " Sorter got suthin in dis eye jes* now, 
 an got suthin in my throat, too, I b l ebe. 
 Neber seed de like. Man kaint stan 
 erbout yere widout gittin all used up, 
 things flyin roun so." 
 
 John caught Bradwell s hand and 
 pressed it to his breast. " My dear boy," 
 said the giant, "your approaching mar 
 riage is now placed upon a sensible foot 
 ing. You and your wife shall go with me 
 to Kentucky. The farm is not mine, but 
 
134 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 yours and mine. The house is large, is 
 built of stone, and in it there are many 
 rare books. I have all the time trusted 
 that the light of truth would fall upon that 
 crime, and now but we will not talk 
 about it. John, we will go over to-mor 
 row and tell Mrs. Forest and Eva. Alf, 
 you shall go to Kentucky with us." 
 
 John went to bed in a whirl of happi 
 ness. He could not sleep long at a time. 
 Joy, as well as sorrow, puts sleep to 
 flight. Would morning never come ? What 
 can come with such slowness as a wished- 
 for day-break ? Another doze. Sunlight 
 streamed in upon the bed. 
 
 When Bradwell had shown Mrs. Forest 
 the newspaper article, he told his story. 
 The ladies were much affected, and Mrs. 
 Forest, as she wiped her eyes, said : 
 
 "Well, I called you Bradshaw, you re 
 member. I just knew it was Brad some 
 thing, for I do think that I saw you in 
 Kentucky years ago." 
 
 Eva and John walked along the road 
 whose edges were fringed with flowers. 
 
Up Terrapin River. 135 
 
 " There is nothing in our way now, 
 precious." 
 
 "No," she replied, "nothing has been 
 in the way, nothing, dear, but your 
 groundless concern. Our life, I know, 
 will almost be an ideal one." 
 
 " It shall be if love and faithfulness can 
 make it so," he replied. 
 
 They sat down on a log and talked 
 until the horn summoned them to dinner. 
 That afternoon, as Bradwell and John 
 were walking toward home, the young 
 man remarked : 
 
 " Eva has only one trouble now." 
 
 " What is that ?" 
 
 " Leaving her mother." 
 
 " Is she going to leave her?" 
 
 " Of course. Are we not going to Ken 
 tucky ?" 
 
 "Yes ; but Mrs. Forest, or rather Mrs. 
 Bradwell, is going with us. Oh, you 
 young fellows don t know everything." 
 
 They shook hands and walked on in 
 happy silence. 
 
136 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 The day was beautiful. It was autumn, 
 and streaks of gray could be seen in the 
 crab-grass. Age and infirmity had given 
 to the " chatter jack s" song a harsher 
 sound, and the toad, avoiding the grass 
 where the dew was chilly, stretched him 
 self in the dusty road. 
 
 The neighbors for miles around had 
 gathered at Mrs. Forest s house. The 
 bashful boy in brown homespun cast a 
 wistful eye at the dining-table, and the 
 half-grown girl in her linsey frock longed 
 to see the marriage ceremonies per 
 formed. 
 
 "Where is Alf ?" Bradwell asked. 
 
 No one knew. Old Jeff Lucas " lowed" 
 that he must be prowling around looking 
 for something to eat, and "Aunt Liz," 
 with a violent wrinkling of her nose, de 
 clared that if he wanted anything to eat 
 he should get it at once, for she knew he 
 would starve to death away off there in 
 Kentucky. 
 
 " Mandy," said Mrs. Forest, addressing 
 a colored woman who had come to assist 
 
Up Terrapin River. 137 
 
 in waiting on the guests, " do you know 
 where Alf is ?" 
 
 " How I know whar he is ?" the woman 
 replied. " Ef he got bizness ober yere I 
 reckon he be yere airter while." 
 
 The ceremonies were performed, and 
 while congratulations were still being ex 
 tended Alf stepped up on the gallery. 
 " Yere," he cried, waving a piece of paper, 
 " somebody else got tet git married yere. 
 Come on, Mandy." He and Mandy were 
 married. "Oh!" the old negro exclaimed, 
 with a pretense of great surprise, " I neber 
 did see de like o marryin* dat s gwine on 
 dese days. Man kaint walk roun yere 
 widout bumpin ergin somebody dat s dun 
 married." 
 
 Bradwell and Mrs. Bradwell, John and 
 Eva, were to go to the railway station, 
 thirty miles away, in a wagon. Alf and 
 his wife would ride a mule After many 
 farewells had been exchanged, and after 
 John had affectionately kissed his aunt, 
 old Jeffs wife remarked: 
 
 " I jest know you air all goin to starve 
 
138 Up Terrapin River. 
 
 ter death, but don t think I want ter keep 
 you here, fur goodness knows I don t." 
 
 She watched the wagon until it had 
 turned a bend in the road, and then, clasp 
 ing her hands over old Jeff s shoulder, 
 bowed her head and sobbed. 
 
 The bridal party stood on the railway 
 platform. "Eva," said John, "are you 
 happy ?" 
 
 " Yes, my soul is filled with a quiet joy." 
 
 The train came within sight. " It is 
 the vehicle," said John, gazing up the 
 road, " that is to convey us to a new and 
 happy life." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Bradwell lifted his hand to point out 
 something. John seized it and pressed it 
 to his breast. 
 
BEHIND A BUGLER. 
 
 The conversation had turned upon the 
 war and the old soldiers fondness for 
 reminiscence had been freely indulged, 
 when someone, addressing Alf Billingsly, 
 asked if he had served during the war. 
 
 " No," Billingsly replied. " I was not 
 in the army, but I was in one engagement. 
 I was a boy and was living in Gallatin, 
 Tenn., when John Morgan dashed in and 
 captured Colonel Boon. Some time had 
 elapsed since the Confederate forces were 
 driven away, and the villagers, especially 
 the boys, were almost wild with joy at the 
 sight of gray uniform. A season of feast 
 ing followed, and then there came the 
 report that Colonel Johnson, a dashing 
 Federal officer, was, with a thousand 
 picked cavalrymen, advancing upon the 
 (139) 
 
140 Behind a Bugler. 
 
 town. My mother gathered her children 
 about her and took refuge in a cellar, but, 
 feeling that my pride had been trampled 
 upon, I escaped and mingled with the 
 soldiers that were preparing for battle. 
 Old wine, and whisky of less venerable 
 age, had flowed during the feast, and many 
 of the men and officers were drunk. Some 
 were singing songs of more implied pa 
 triotism than of actual tune ; others, with 
 the rising fervor of tipsyness, declared 
 that they would not go home till morn 
 ing. Ah, before the next morning came 
 many of them had gone home. I impor 
 tuned a bugler to let me get on his horse 
 behind him and ride out to the battle. 
 He said that if I would take his canteen 
 over to the house of a well-known old 
 negro and bring it back full of peach 
 brandy, I might go home with him. I 
 did so, having left with the negro my hat 
 and jacket as pawned evidences of good 
 faith, and took my place behind the 
 bugler. An officer ordered me to get 
 down, but I begged so hard that his reck- 
 
Behind a Bugler. 141 
 
 less good humor overcame his soberer 
 sense of discipline. With shouts and 
 songs of discordant loudness we marched 
 out to battle. The morning was beauti 
 ful. The ironweed was in bloom, and 
 sitting on its purple top the dryfly sang 
 the song of midsummer. Mockingbirds 
 flitted in the apple trees, and the bee- 
 martin flew round and round, waiting for 
 a sight of the honey-laden laborer that 
 had just gone over into a field of clover. 
 The troops dashed out upon a blue-grass 
 plane, jeweled here and there with the 
 rich setting of a long-cared-for and mag 
 nificent tree. Over the brow of a green 
 slope the phrenological bump of percep 
 tion on the face of the landscape the 
 enemy was seen advancing. It was to be 
 a cavalry fight. It was to be a shock of 
 horse and a clash of sabre. I looked to 
 the right and saw that our men were 
 stretched out in a long line, and looking 
 ahead, I saw that the enemy was in sim 
 ilar form. My friend blew his bugle. 
 Every horse dashed forward. A line of 
 
142 Behind a Bugler. 
 
 blue dashed to meet us. I felt a keen 
 sense of delight. My friend blew his 
 bugle. Clash ! The two lines had met 
 with drawn sabres. It was a beautiful 
 sight. Not a shot had been fired. There 
 was no dust. Clash ! Far to the right, 
 as the sabres flashed, there were two long 
 lines of brightness, broken into whirling 
 glints of sun-ray-catching silver. I may 
 not have had the spirit of a poet, but the 
 beauty and not the horror impressed me. 
 I lost not an adjunct I failed not to 
 catch a single shading. I saw a bee- 
 martin catch a bee ; T saw an ironweed 
 bend its purple head beneath the touch 
 of a lark ; I saw a man, with his skull 
 split open fall to the ground. My friend 
 blew his bugle. The horses leaped for 
 ward. The line of blue began to grow 
 ragged. Wild shouts arose. Gunshots 
 with, it seemed to me, intruding noise like 
 the yap, yap, yap of a stray dog, rang out 
 here and there. The enemy was retreat 
 ing. My friend, standing in his stirrups, 
 waved his bugle high in the air and then 
 
Behind a Bugler. 143 
 
 blew upon it a triumphant blast. The 
 enemy made a stand, and again the sabres 
 flashed, but the old wine and new whisky 
 made the Confederates impetuous. My 
 friend blew his bugle. The opposing line 
 broke, and then there came gunshots with, 
 it seemed to me, a sort of revengful bark. 
 My friend lifted his bugle, but did not 
 blow it. I thought that he had taken pity 
 upon the vanquished line. We bounded 
 forward. My friend began to lean back 
 against me. He was laughing, I could 
 plainly see. He leaned back farther. 
 4 Don t lean back so far, I said. Stop; 
 don t you see you are about to shove me 
 off? He leaned back farther. I moved 
 to one side reached around and took 
 hold of the horn of the saddle. Blood 
 spurted from the bugler s breast. I 
 looked up and saw that death had thrown 
 its film into his eyes. I reached down 
 with my foot and kicked the stirrup away. 
 The bugler leaned over and fell to the 
 ground. I got into the saddle, rode up 
 to a fence, threw the bridle rein over a 
 
144 Behind a Bugler. 
 
 stake, climbed down off the horse and ran 
 away. I went back over the grassy slope. 
 I saw a martin catch a bee; I saw the 
 purple head of the ironweed bend 
 beneath the touch of the lark." 
 
IN THE 
 
 CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS. . 
 
 A physician told Tom Blake that he 
 not only needed a change of scene, but 
 that to regain his health he required abso 
 lute freedom from business cares. " I 
 would advise you," said the doctor, " to 
 get on a horse and ride away, no matter 
 whither. Go to the mountains shun the 
 merest suggestions of civilization; in short, 
 sleep out like a bear." 
 
 Blake attempted to act upon this advice. 
 He stuffed a few shirts into a pair of sad- 
 dlebags, mounted a jolting horse, and rode 
 up into the grandeur of rugged mountain 
 gorges. But to him the scenery imparted 
 no thrill of admiration. His heart beat 
 low, and his pulse quivered with a weak 
 ening flutter. The fox that in sudden 
 alarm sprang across the pathway, the 
 10 (145) 
 
146 In the Cumberland Mountains. 
 
 raccoon that, with awkward scramble, 
 climbed a leaning tree, called not for a 
 momentary quickening of his blood. He 
 was passing through one of the most dis 
 tressing of human trials. He had no 
 disease ; every muscle was sound. What, 
 then, was the trouble? You shall know. 
 
 He lay at night in a bank of leaves. 
 Now everything startled him. He trem 
 bled violently when the sun went down. 
 Once he sprang, with a cry of alarm, from 
 his bed of leaves. Then he lay down 
 again, ashamed. The horse had snorted. 
 
 Farther and farther he went into the 
 wildness of the mountains. One evening 
 he came upon a narrow road, and, follow 
 ing it for some distance, saw a house. It 
 was an old inn, with a suggestion of the 
 brigand about it. He tied his horse to a 
 fence made of poles and went into the 
 house. There he found a man with a 
 parchment face and small, evil eyes, and a 
 woman who, on the stage, could have 
 appropriately taken the role of hag. 
 
 "Why, come in, sir, come in," said the 
 
In the Cumberland Mountains. 147 
 
 man, getting up and placing a chair for 
 Blake. "Wife and I have been so lone 
 some for the last day or so that we have 
 been wishing somebody would come. 
 Haven t we, Moll ?" 
 
 The woman removed a cob pipe from 
 her mouth, drew the back of a skinny 
 hand across her blue-looking lips, made a 
 noise like the guttural croak of an old 
 hen with the roup, and said, Yes." 
 
 "You ll of course stay all night with 
 us," the man remarked. " We can t pos 
 sibly allow you to go on, especially as we 
 are going to have falling weather. Oh, 
 when it comes to hospitality, why, you ll 
 find it right here. I ll go out and put up 
 your horse." 
 
 Blake entered no objections. His de 
 plorable condition would have forced him 
 into a compliance with almost any sort of 
 proposition. The man went out, put up 
 the horse, and soon returned with a log of 
 wood. " The more fire we have the more 
 cheerful it will be," he explained. " Out 
 prospecting ?" he asked. 
 
 10 
 
148 In the Cumberland Mountains. 
 
 "No," Blake answered. 
 
 " Don t live nowhere near here, I 
 reckon ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " How long do you expect to remain in 
 this part of the country ?" 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 The old woman mumbled and then, 
 with a grating croak, said : 
 
 " He don t pear willin ter tell much 
 about hisse f. Some folks is mighty 
 curi s thater way. " 
 
 " Never mind, Moll," the host quickly 
 responded. " It ain t quite time 1 for you 
 to put in, except in the way of getting us 
 a bite to eat." 
 
 She arose, without replying, and began 
 preparations for supper. 
 
 " It is a dull time of the year with us," 
 said the host. "It has been about two 
 weeks since our last boarder left. But I 
 reckon business will pearten up a little 
 when the fishing season opens." 
 
 Blake paid no attention, except when 
 some sharp and unexpected note in the 
 
In the Cumberland Mountains. 149 
 
 old man s voice produced a tingling of the 
 nerves. 
 
 Shortly after supper, Blake declared 
 his readiness to go to bed. He was 
 shown into a sort of shed room, separated 
 by a thin partition from the room which 
 he had just quitted. The old man placed 
 a spluttering candle on the hearth, and, 
 expressing the hope that his guest would 
 pass a quiet and peaceful night, withdrew. 
 
 Blake lay unable to sleep. Once the 
 spluttering candle caused him to spring 
 up in bed. Suddenly his ears, extremely 
 sensitive with his nervousness, caught the 
 sounds of a whispered conversation. 
 
 " It won t do to shed blood," said the 
 old man. "It won t do, for we made a 
 mighty narrow escape the last time. It s 
 impossible to get blood stains out of the 
 house. 
 
 " I bTeve them saddlebags air full uv 
 money," the hag replied. 
 
 " I don t doubt that, and weVe got to 
 have it." 
 
 41 How air you goin ter git it ?" 
 
1 50 In the Cumberland Mountains. 
 
 " Poison him. I wasn t a sort of doctor 
 all these years for nothing." 
 
 " You never was no doctor ter hurt." 
 
 " But I ll be a doctor to-night to hurt." 
 
 " How air you goin ter pizen him ? 
 Thar ain t a speck uv pizen on the place." 
 
 " Where is that morphine ?" 
 
 "Up thar in the bottle, but will that 
 fix him ?" 
 
 " Yes, and in such a way that nobody 
 will suspect anything." 
 
 " How air you goin ter do ? Hold it 
 under his nose ?" 
 
 "Hold it under his foot !" the man 
 contemptuously replied. " I am going to 
 make him take it." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I ll fix it." 
 
 Then there occurred a whispering of 
 which Blake caught the following : 
 
 " Think that s ernuff ?" the woman 
 asked. 
 
 "It s nearly half a teaspoonful. Enough 
 to make five men sleep throughout 
 eternity." 
 
In the Cumberland Mountains. 1 5 1 
 
 A moment later the host entered 
 Blake s room. His manner was free from 
 embarrassment. In one hand he held a 
 glass containing water. 
 
 " Stranger, I don t want to disturb you, 
 but it occurred to me just now that you 
 looked as if you might be going to have 
 a spell of sickness, so I thought I would 
 bring you some medicine. I am willing 
 to help a man, but I don t want him to be 
 sick on my hands. I am a doctor, but I 
 don t propose to keep a hospital." 
 
 " Suppose I refuse to take the med 
 icine ?" 
 
 " Then you ll put me to the trouble of 
 pouring it down you, that s all. I am a 
 mighty gentle sort of a fellow as long as 
 everything goes on all right, but if a 
 hitch occurs, why I am as rough as a 
 swamp oak." 
 
 "Are you sure the medicine will not 
 hurt me ?" 
 
 "Hurt you! Why, it will do you good. 
 Here, swallow it down." 
 
 Blake drank the contents of the glass. 
 
152 In the Cumberland Mountains. 
 
 The host smiled, bowed, and withdrew. 
 Then there followed another whispered 
 conversation." 
 
 " Tuck it all right, did he ?" 
 
 " Like a lamb. He ll be all right in a 
 half-hour from now." 
 
 During fifteen or twenty minutes Blake 
 lay quietly in bed. Then he got up, 
 dressed himself noiselessly, arranged the 
 bed covers to resemble the form of a man, 
 took his saddlebags, stepped out at a back 
 door, went to the stable, saddled his horse, 
 mounted and rode up to a window and 
 looked into the room which he had occu 
 pied. Cattle were tramping about the 
 yard, and the noise made by the horse at 
 tracted no attention. He took a position 
 so that he could, unobserved, see all that 
 passed within the room. The "doctor" 
 and the old woman soon entered. They 
 made no attempt to speak in low tones. 
 
 " Whar is his saddlebags ?" the woman 
 asked. 
 
 " Under his head, I reckon. Snatch 
 off the covers. He won t wake up." 
 
In the Cumberland Mountains. 153 
 
 The old woman pulled off the covers 
 and uttered a cry of surprise. Blake 
 tapped on the window glass. 
 
 " Say, Doc," he called, " bring me the 
 rest of that morphine. You see, I have 
 been a morphine eater for a number o r 
 years, but am trying to quit. Your dose 
 came in pretty handy, for I was in a bad 
 fix. I am all right now, and am mud 
 obliged to you. Good-night. 1 
 
 Less than a week from that time the 
 " doctor " and his wife were in jail, 
 charged with the murder of a traveler. 
 They were hanged at Greenville last 
 September. 
 
A COMMERCIAL RIP-SNORTER. 
 
 Several years ago I was the editor and 
 proprietor of the New Ebeneezer Plow 
 Point. It was a weekly publication, and, 
 with its name as well as with its class of 
 matter, appealed to the farmers, and 
 danced a pandering jig to the shrill whistle 
 of their prejudices. One day E. Sim Nolan, 
 a prominent man in the community, came 
 into my office and said : 
 
 " I have been thinking of you for the 
 past day or two, and I think that with my 
 keen business instincts I have unearthed 
 the stone with which you may pave your 
 way to fortune. Writing is a very fine 
 accomplishment and plays its little part in 
 journalism, but it is not the main thing. 
 Now, the main thing in the newspaper 
 business is to achieve success. How 
 (154) 
 
A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 155 
 
 can this be done ? you naturally ask. Not 
 by advising the county to repair the 
 bridge over Cypress Bayou ; not the 
 editorial advising the party to organize, 
 but by getting business. One line in a 
 thoroughly thrifty paper is worth more 
 and has more weight than a thousand 
 lines in a dragging publication that has to 
 apologize every other week for its inability 
 to get out on time. You want a partner, 
 not to help you write, but a commercial 
 rip-snorter, who can run business into a 
 corner, choke it into submission, and then 
 drag it into the office. That s the kind of 
 a man you need. Where can I find 
 him ? you are about to ask. You have 
 found him, or rather he has found you. I 
 am that man. I am that commercial rip- 
 snorter. I can go out and in two days 
 load the Plow Point so full of advertise 
 ments that you ll have to put up side 
 boards. What do you think of it ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt of your ability," I 
 replied, " but I can not afford to pay you." 
 
 " You don t have to pay me. The work 
 
156 A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 
 
 will pay for itself. Now here ; say that 
 you are making seventy-five dollars per 
 month. Very well. The commercial rip- 
 snorter comes in. You get one hundred 
 and fifty dollars per month and the com 
 mercial rip-snorter gets one fifty. W y, it s 
 as plain and simple and guileless as the 
 soft laughter of a child. It shall not be 
 for one month but for all time. In short, 
 take me in as a partner. What is the 
 greatest business stimulant ? Salary ? 
 No, sir. Proprietary interest. Give me 
 a half interest in your paper, and it will 
 fly higher than the kite of Franklin. It 
 will roar louder than a cyclone, and 
 scatter dollars where we can easily gather 
 them up. As a rule, I am not an enthusi 
 ast. Ordinarily I am a quiet man. The 
 soldier is quiet until his grand occasion 
 
 comes." 
 
 I told him that I would think about it 
 and give him an answer on the following 
 day. That afternoon I consulted with 
 several friends. The county judge de 
 clared that when Nolan put his shoulder 
 
A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 1 5 7 
 
 to the wheel the wagon moved. The 
 county attorney said that I could well 
 afford to pay Nolan to take a half 
 interest. That night I went to bed in a 
 highly agreeable state of mind. The 
 clouds were breaking away, and I could 
 see the sun shining. The business cares 
 of the office would be lifted off my mind, 
 and I could devote myself to writing and 
 to study. With nothing to do but to 
 digest my subjects, I could write editorials 
 that would establish me as a party leader. 
 I dreamed of w<^b perfecting presses, and 
 of being consulted by great politicians. I 
 hummed a tune before breakfast The 
 trade was soon consummated ; and, de 
 livering the books to Nolan, I seated 
 myself in my inner sanctum, warmed by a 
 stove pipe which came through from an 
 adjoining shed occupied by a shoemaker, 
 and gave myself up to deep thought. At 
 last my time had come. At last the 
 people must acknowledge my leader- 
 writing ability. The next day Nolan 
 brought in a few advertisements. Ah, 
 
158 A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 
 
 the ripened fruit had already begun 
 to fall. 
 
 " By the way," said Nolan, as he seated 
 himself on a corner of my table, " I have 
 got a great scheme on hand." 
 
 " Glad of it," I rapturously replied. 
 -What is it?" 
 
 "A number of our most prominent men 
 have boned me to run for sheriff." 
 
 4< But will it not take up too much of 
 your time ?" 
 
 " Why, no. You see, I can be elected 
 as easily as falling off a log, and then, as 
 sheriff, I can flood our paper with legal 
 advertisements." 
 
 " Nolan, you are a remarkable man." 
 
 " You just wait." 
 
 I wrote editorials in his behalf, and 
 even left my sanctum and made speeches 
 for him. He was elected. He turned 
 over his newspaper books to his son, and 
 took charge of the sheriff s office. The 
 boy sat in the office, and, during the fore 
 noon, whistled a circus tune. In the 
 afternoon he got drunk. A few days 
 
A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 159 
 
 after Nolan was installed, I went over to 
 get an armful of legal advertisements. 
 There were none on hand just at that 
 time, Nolan told me. " In fact," said he 
 "it has been decided not to print the 
 delinquent-tax list this year." 
 
 I was disappointed. The boy whistled 
 his circus tune and then went out and got 
 drunk. The next day, when I wanted to 
 draw five dollars, the boy gave me thirty- 
 five cents. Bills began to come in, and 
 my deep thought was much disturbed by 
 them. One morning Nolan came in, and, 
 after whistling in imitation of his son, 
 said: 
 
 " It s pretty tough." 
 
 -What is?" 
 
 " Why, as sheriff, I ve got to take 
 charge of this office. Paper bill." 
 
 I was staggered. 
 
 "Can t we pay our bill?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Haven t any money at present, I am 
 sorry to say. I regret now that I ran for 
 sheriff, for it s devilish uncomfortable to 
 close out a partner." 
 
160 A Commercial Rip-Snorter. 
 
 I did not exactly understand it, but 
 when he served an execution on me I 
 went out. As sheriff, he took charge of 
 the office, discharged his son, and took 
 charge of the business and editorial 
 departments. I consulted several law 
 yers. They said that I was out. I knew 
 that. They didn t know how I could get 
 in again. The law was very peculiar. I 
 knew that, too. I found out afterward 
 that Nolan had called on all the lawyers, 
 and had told them that if they interfered 
 with his affairs, he would bear down on 
 their clients, and as most of their clie .its 
 were in jail, they did not interfere. 
 Nolan, as sheriff and he is now serving 
 his fourth term is still editor and pro 
 prietor of the New Ebeneezer Plow Point. 
 
HIS FRIEND FLANDERS. 
 
 When the hum in the court-room 
 had settled into an occasional whisper, 
 the judge asked the prisoner if he would 
 like to make a statement. The prisoner, 
 a slender man, with hair holding a slight 
 intention to curl, and with eyes large and 
 willful, arose and made this statement : 
 
 John Flanders and I were the best of 
 friends, though we were not drawn toward 
 each other by any common ties of voca 
 tion. In the early part of my life I turned 
 to literature, not that I expected to realize 
 a fortune in such a pursuit, but because I 
 could do nothing else. Flanders was a 
 sort of general speculator. It seemed to 
 me that every time he stepped out in the 
 street he saw a dollar, chased it, overtook 
 it, and put it in his pocket. My work was 
 
 11 (161) 
 
1 62 His Friend Flanders. 
 
 difficult and uncertain ; and the pigeon 
 holes of my desk were often stuffed with 
 rejected manuscripts. Gradually I dis 
 covered that I could not write if I knew 
 that Flanders was in the same building in 
 which I had a room. At first I regarded 
 this feeling as a nervous freak, and tried 
 to put it aside, but then, finding that 
 every literary thought had flown away 
 from me, I would discover that Flanders 
 was in the building. One day when I 
 heard his footsteps in the hall I called 
 him into my room. " Flanders," said I, 
 "you know that I have to make my living 
 by literary work ?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied. 
 
 " Well, but do you know that you con 
 tribute largely to my failure ?" 
 
 " No," he replied; "how can that be?" 
 
 " It is in this way, Flanders : I can not 
 write while you are in this building. Just 
 so soon as you step into the elevator 
 downstairs, my ideas droop and my pen 
 splutters." 
 
 " I am sorry," he rejoined. 
 
His Friend Flanders. 163 
 
 " I know you are," said I, " for there is 
 not in the world a more sympathetic man 
 than you are." 
 
 " If I am so sympathetic, then why 
 should I disturb you so ?" 
 
 " I don t know, Flanders, but you do 
 disturb me. Now, I have a favor to ask 
 of you." 
 
 " It shall be granted." 
 
 * It is this : please do not come into 
 this building again." 
 
 " I will stay away," he said. 
 
 He did not come into the building 
 again, and for a time I wrote with ease; 
 but one day my ideas flew away and my 
 pen cut through the paper. I knew that 
 Flanders was not in the building, but I 
 knew that he was in town. I strove to 
 write, but this fact weighed upon me. I 
 went out to look for Flanders. I found 
 him in the Open Board of Trade, busily 
 engaged in driving a bargain. I drew 
 him to one side. 
 
 " Flanders," said I, "you have again 
 put my ideas to flight." 
 11 
 
164 His Friend Flanders. 
 
 "How so?" he asked. "I have not 
 been in your building since you requested 
 me to keep away." 
 
 " I know that ; but you are in Chicago, 
 and I have discovered that I can not write 
 if we are in the same town. Now, it 
 really makes no difference to you where 
 you are." 
 
 " No," he replied, 
 
 " You can make a living anywhere." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, leave this city." 
 
 " I will do so," said he. " I will go to 
 New York." 
 
 I bade him an affectionate good-by, 
 and he left on the next eastern-bound 
 train. I returned to my work with a feel 
 ing of refreshment. My pen tripped over 
 the paper with graceful airiness, and my 
 thoughts, arrayed in gay apparel, sported 
 joyously. Thus several weeks went by, 
 but one day my pen stopped. I urged it, 
 as a farmer urges a balky horse, but it 
 refused to move forward. It was because 
 Flanders was in this country. I wrote to 
 
His Friend Flanders 165 
 
 him: " Flanders," said I, " you must leave 
 New York must leave the United States. 
 I can not write if we are both under the 
 same flag. I have a great piece of work 
 to perform and I know that you will not 
 seek to deprive me of the fame which its 
 accomplishment will bring. Please leave 
 this country." 
 
 A few days later I received the follow 
 ing reply: " I leave to-day for London." 
 
 Again I went to work with a thrill of 
 pleasure. The rosebuds of thought opened 
 with each passing breeze of inspiration. 
 A month passed. One day my pen fell. 
 Instantly my thoughts flew to Flanders, 
 and I sadly shook my head. I could not 
 write if Flanders and I lived in English- 
 speaking countries. I wrote to him. He 
 was still generous, for in his reply he said : 
 " I appreciate your feelings. To-morrow 
 I shall sail for Asia." 
 
 Again I experienced the usual relief, 
 and the rosebuds which had so long been 
 covered with dust, opened with blooming 
 freshness. Flanders wrote to me from 
 
[66 His Friend Flanders. 
 
 Pekin. Then my pen fell again. I could 
 not write if he and I were in the same 
 world. I replied to his letter : " Flan 
 ders," said I, " come home at once." 
 
 I waited two weary months. One night, 
 just as I had lighted my lamp and sat 
 down to dream with De Quincy, Flanders 
 shoved open the door and entered the 
 room. I threw my arms about him and 
 pressed him to me for I loved him. 
 
 " Are you glad to see me, Flanders ?" 
 I asked, shoving him into an easy seat. 
 
 " Delighted," he replied. " What is it 
 you would have me do ?" 
 
 " Nothing but sit where you are." 
 
 He looked at me with affection. His 
 eyes were soft and glowing. I reached into 
 my desk and took out a sharp paper-cut 
 ter, and, as Flanders was beaming upon 
 me, I stabbed him. He sprang to his 
 feet and threw his arms about me, but I 
 stabbed him again and again. He sank 
 to the floor and I sat down to my work. 
 Oh, how my thoughts flew. With wings 
 that were feathered with silvery down and 
 
His Friend Flanders. 167 
 
 tipped with gold, they soared higher and 
 higher. I 
 
 " Hold on," said the judge. " I would 
 not have permitted this statement had I 
 not from the first been interested in its 
 very curiousness. You are not charged 
 with the murder of anyone named 
 Flanders. You found a little boy playing 
 among the flowers in a park and slew 
 him." 
 
 The prisoner pressed his hands to his 
 head. " Oh," he cried, "if Flanders be 
 not dead I can not write. He would not 
 deprive me of the fame " 
 
 An officer led him away. 
 
HENDRICKS KNEW IT. 
 
 Jasper Hendricks, old man Blue, Abe 
 Stallcup, and several other men, farmers 
 in the neighborhood, sat, one rainy day, 
 about the fireplace in a Tennessee cross 
 roads store. Autumn had just begun to 
 enforce its principles that is, a lingering 
 mildness of atmosphere had just turned 
 cool enough to shiver a little when the 
 sun had sunk behind the distant timber 
 line. The "evangelist" had made his 
 annual fall visit to the neighborhood, 
 and, assisted by local talent, was hold 
 ing a revival in Round Pound meeting 
 house. 
 
 The party of men in the store had been 
 discussing the main features of the meet 
 ing, and in their crude way had been 
 speculating upon religion in general, when 
 
 (168) 
 
Hendricks Knew It. 169 
 
 old man Blue, a deacon and an ultra- 
 religionist, remarked : 
 
 "Wall, gentlew^, it s all right ter talk, 
 but when the ho n blows, callin us ter a 
 final settle;;^;//, w y we jest nachully cave; 
 that s all. The bravest man in the world 
 would a leetle ruther stay here, ef he s in 
 his right mind, than ter take the chances 
 in a neighborhood (as a feller named 
 Hamestring or Hamlet, I dunno which, 
 once said) frum which thar ain t nobody 
 returned ter tell us the condition uv the 
 craps an sich. Now I ve a putty strong 
 hope that my after-life will be smooth an 
 easy, but I ll jest tell you whut s cr fack, 
 I d ruther stay here er leetle longer, even 
 ef I hafter plow with er jumpin coulter 
 an break a yoke of calves urcasion ly, than 
 ter go thar." 
 
 "You air right!" Stallcup responded. 
 "At times when we air sorter shoutin 
 round the mourner s bench we feel like 
 we wouldn t kere ef we wuz called erway 
 at wunst, but airter we git out an see the 
 sun shine the next day, an see the birds 
 
170 Hendricks Knew It. 
 
 erhoppin erround the straw-stack, an* 
 lissen ter the ole jaybird that s dun picked 
 a quarrel with the yallerhammer, w y we 
 feel sorter like stayin here a while longer." 
 
 Then Jasper Hendricks spoke. Every 
 one turned to pay him particular atten 
 tion. He was the one man in the neigh 
 borhood whom no one understood. He 
 was strikingly handsome tall, with soft 
 black hair that seemed to worm itself into 
 graceful curls. He was not saintly in his 
 deportment. Often at night, while a 
 furious storm was raging, and while the 
 lightning painted in frightful colors a mo 
 mentary picture on the cliffs, Hendricks, 
 half drunk and chanting a stirring tune, 
 had been seen to gallop at desperate 
 speed through the crash and roar of the 
 weather s awful outbreak. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Hendricks, "you air 
 but pore proofs uv yo faith. Ef you 
 really believe whut you say you do be 
 lieve that thar is er crown that airter 
 while will press with gentle soothin on 
 your troubled brows, you would long fur 
 
Hendricks Knew It. 171 
 
 the time when you mout leave this world. 
 The shinin uv the sun an the quarrel uv 
 the jaybird an yallerhammer wouldn t 
 have no influence ter hold you back frum 
 er everlastin joy." 
 
 " Hendricks," said old man Blue, " you 
 air er sort uv er poet an kain t understan 
 the feelin s uv er common man." 
 
 " I m not er poet only in feelin ," Hen 
 dricks replied, " but ef I was I d know 
 mo erbout you than I do, fur the poet, 
 erbove all others, understand the feelin s 
 uv the common man. It is his perfeck 
 understan in uv the heart uv the common 
 man that makes him er poet." 
 
 " Have you got any hope in the next 
 world, Hendricks ?" old man Blue asked. 
 
 " Have you?" 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Becaze, I ve got er promise." 
 
 "Who made it?" 
 
 " W y, the Lord, I think." 
 
 " Promised you that you would be per 
 fectly happy in the next world ?" 
 
172 Hendricks Knew It. 
 
 " Yas," the old man replied. 
 
 Air you perfeckly happy in this here 
 world ?" 
 
 " No, I ain t." 
 
 " Do you believe that the Lord always 
 keeps his promises ?" 
 
 " Yas, I do." 
 
 " Then why don t you want ter go ter 
 the next world at once ? Why don t you 
 pray fur death ?" 
 
 "I don t know, Hendricks." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Why, then ?" 
 
 11 Because you don t believe the Lord 
 has made you any promise." 
 
 " Oh, yas, I do." 
 
 " Oh, no, you don t." 
 
 " Wall, I tell you whut it is, Hendricks, 
 no sensible man hankers airter dyinV 
 
 " He does, if the Lord has made him a 
 promise." 
 
 " Yas, but he wants ter wait the Lord s 
 
 own time." 
 
 "A good excuse," Hendricks replied. 
 " You want to wait the Lord s own time, 
 
Hendricks Knew It. 173 
 
 an* you hope that the Lord s time will be 
 long." 
 
 " Hendrick s, you kain t blame er man 
 for wantin to live." 
 
 " Yes, I can, if he believes that he 
 would be better off in another world." 
 
 " But he don t know that." 
 
 " Then he ain t got religion, an don t 
 b l eve what God says." 
 
 " Oh, yas, Hendricks. You know it 
 would skeer you might ly ef you knowed 
 you had ter die ter-day." 
 
 " I m not religious, but ter know that I 
 had ter die ter-day wouldn t skeer me." 
 
 " I think it would, Hendricks." 
 
 " But I know it wouldn t; so now, fur 
 the sake uv argyment, let us say that I 
 have got ter die ter-day." 
 
 "Yas," rejoined old Blue, " we ken say 
 it fur argyment s sake, an it won t skeer 
 you, but ef it was sho nuff, it would." 
 
 41 Wall, then, say it s sho nuff." 
 
 " We ken say it, but that won t skeer 
 you, fur you know it ain t true." 
 
 " But I know it is true." 
 
174 Hendricks Knew It. 
 
 * What, you know that you are goin 
 ter die ter-day ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " How do you know it ?" 
 
 " By this fack," Hendricks replied. He 
 drew a revolver, placed it against his 
 head, and fired. He fell from the chair, 
 dead. The men looked in horror upon 
 the scene. A breeze through the open 
 doorway stirred Hendricks hair into 
 beautiful curls. 
 
WEARING OUT THE CARPET. 
 
 Among the guests at a small summer 
 hotel were a little boy and his mother. 
 The boy s fullness of life and richness of 
 prankish resource kept the timid, shrink 
 ing mother in a constant state of alarm ; 
 and the servants, noticing that she was 
 afraid that her son might give offense, 
 took pains to increase her anxiety by 
 telling the child, in those soft but forced 
 tones of kindness which burn worse than 
 harshness, not to make so much noise and 
 not to scatter bread crumbs on the steps. 
 The proprietor s wife, an old woman 
 whom everyone said was motherly, 
 unconsciously took a cue from the serv 
 ants, and, forgetting that her own sons 
 and daughters were once noisy children, 
 began to oppress the boy. 
 
 (US) 
 
1 76 Wearing out the Carpet. 
 
 " Sh-sh don t make a fuss," she said, 
 meeting him in the hall. " Little boys 
 must be seen and not heard. Go and put 
 that ball away. You might break some 
 thing. Never mind that cat. Get out of 
 my way. I wonder what your mother 
 can be thinking about." 
 
 "Tommie," his mother called from a 
 neighboring room. 
 
 " Maam." 
 
 "Come here." 
 
 "I ain t doin nothin ." 
 
 " Oh, let him alone, I pray you," said the 
 proprietor s wife, inclining her head and 
 smiling at the mother, who had appeared 
 in the doorway. " I was simply afraid that 
 he might break something with his ball, 
 but do let him enjoy himself, I beseech 
 you. Children will be children, you know." 
 
 " I do hope he won t cause you any 
 trouble," the mother replied. " I do the 
 very best I can with him, but I I 
 come here, son," 
 
 She reached out, took the boy by the 
 hand, and drew him into the room. 
 
Wearing 01 if the Carpet. 177 
 
 " What makes you cry, mamma ?" 
 
 " Because you are so bad, darling," she 
 replied, taking him into her arms. 
 
 " I didn t know I was bad." 
 
 " But you are. You seem to make 
 everybody miserable." 
 
 " What s miserable ?" 
 
 " Unhappy." 
 
 "What s unhappy?" 
 
 "Go, sit down over there." 
 
 He climbed up on a trunk, twisted him 
 self around, tore his clothes, got down, 
 killed a fly on the window pane, picked 
 up a feather which he found in a corner, 
 threw it up and blew his breath upon it, 
 turned over a work-basket, climbed upon 
 the bed where his mother had lain down, 
 put his hands on her face, gazed with mis 
 chievous tenderness into her eyes, and 
 said: 
 
 11 I love you." 
 
 She clasped him to her bosom. " You ll 
 be a good boy, won t you ?" 
 
 " Yessum, an when that nigger makes 
 a face at me, I won t say anything." 
 12 
 
178 Wearing out the Carpet. 
 
 " Well, you must not." 
 
 "An musn t I grab holt of the calf s 
 tail when he shoves it through the 
 fence ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 -Why?" 
 
 " Oh, because it will hurt him. Let 
 mamma go to sleep now, but don t you 
 go out." 
 
 " Nome." 
 
 The woman sank to sleep. The boy 
 got off the bed and went to the window. 
 He looked up at a fly that was buzzing 
 at the top, went back to the bed, gently 
 kissed his mother, and stole out into the 
 hall. Exuberant with freedom, he began 
 to gallop in imitation of a horse. 
 
 " Sh-sh!" 
 
 He was confronted by the proprietor s 
 wife. " What are you racing around here 
 like a mule for say ? Don t you know 
 you are wearing out the carpet ? Why 
 don t you go somewhere and sit down and 
 behave like a human being? Think I 
 bought this carpet to have it scuffed out 
 
Wearing out the Carpet. 179 
 
 this way? Stop raking your foot on the 
 floor that way." 
 
 He held up his hands as if, in begging 
 for forgiveness, he would kiss her. " Don t 
 put your greasy hands on me. Go on, 
 now, and don t rake your feet on this car 
 pet. I don t know what mothers these 
 days can be thinking about." 
 
 " Tommie," his mother called. 
 
 "Yessum." 
 
 " Come here." 
 
 " Oh, I don t know what to do with 
 you," she said, when she had drawn him 
 into the room. " What makes you so 
 bad?" 
 
 " I dunno; but it must be the bad man." 
 
 "Yes, and he ll get you, too, if you 
 don t behave yourself." 
 
 "And will he hurt me?" 
 
 " Yes; he will." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Burn you." 
 
 " Ho! I d shoot him." 
 
 " You couldn t." 
 
 " Why couldn t I ?" 
 
 12 
 
180 Wearing o^lt the Carpet. 
 
 " Oh, I don t know." 
 
 " Then how do you know he would 
 burn me ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t know that he would." 
 
 Then what made you say that he 
 would ?" 
 
 " For gracious sake, give me a little 
 peace." 
 
 "A little piece of bread ?" he asked, 
 while his eyes twinkled with mischief. 
 
 " Hush, sir ; hush. Not another word 
 out of you. Take your dirty hands away 
 from my face." 
 
 " I want to hug you." 
 
 " Well, hug me, then, and sit down." 
 
 " You love me, don t you ?" 
 
 "Yes, little angel," she said, pressing 
 him to her bosom. 
 
 " More than all the houses an railroads 
 an steamboats put together ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 To the mother the days were dragged 
 over the field of time like the dead body 
 of an animal. In misery lest her son 
 should cause offense, she watched him, 
 
Wearing out the Carpet. 181 
 
 and, at table, hushed him. The proprie 
 tor s wife scolded him, and at last the 
 little fellow s spirit was cowed. He crept 
 through the hall, and, on tiptoe, to keep 
 from wearing out the carpets, he moved 
 through the house. He would shrink 
 when he saw the proprietor s wife, and in 
 his sleep he muttered apologies and 
 declared that he would be good. One 
 morning he awoke with a burning fever. 
 
 " I vish you would come in and see my 
 little boy," said the mother, addressing 
 the proprietor s wife. She went in. The 
 little fellow looked at her, and, as a 
 deeply-troubled expression crossed his 
 face, said: 
 
 " I won t wear out the carpet." 
 
 " Why, no, you won t hurt the carpet. 
 Get up and run on it all you want to." 
 
 " I can t, now." 
 
 " But you can after awhile." 
 
 Days of suffering ; nights of dread. 
 Everything had been done and the doctor 
 had gone home. A heart-broken woman 
 buried her face in the bedclothes. The 
 
1 82 Wearing out the Carpet. 
 
 proprietor s wife, with tears streaming 
 down her face, stood looking upon a 
 wasted face which had, only a short time 
 before, beamed with mischief. 
 
 " Little boy," she said, " dear little 
 fellow, you are going to leave us. You 
 are going to heaven." 
 
 " No," he faintly replied, " I will be in 
 the way, and they won t let me laugh 
 there." 
 
 A long silence followed, and then the 
 old woman whispered: 
 
 " He is gone." 
 
 A man with heavy boots walked on the 
 carpet in the hall. 
 
A BRIDEGROOM. 
 
 One hot afternoon a tramp printer 
 entered the office of the Franklin (Ky.) 
 Patriot. The regular corps of compos 
 itors were sufficient to do all necessary 
 work, but the boys were lazy and wanted 
 to go fishing, so the tramp was given 
 temporary employment. When the boys 
 returned next day they were surprised, 
 and not a little ashamed, to see that the 
 tramp had "set up" the entire paper 
 work which would have taken the entire 
 force several days to perform. When the 
 proof-sheets were brought in, they were 
 found to be so clean that the editor of the 
 Patriot sent for the tramp. 
 
 "What is your name?" the editor 
 asked. 
 
 " Oscar Howell." 
 
 (183) 
 
184 A Bridegroom. 
 
 " Where are you from ?" 
 
 Mr. Howell waived his hand around in 
 a complete circle. 
 
 " What does that mean ?" 
 
 " Means that I am from everywhere." 
 
 " Do you want work ?" 
 
 " That s the reason I came here." 
 
 " I mean regular work." 
 
 " Yes; but I don t want to throw any 
 body out of a job." 
 
 " Glad you are so honorable; but those 
 boys out there are my sons and I am 
 thinking of sending them to school." 
 
 " All right, then, I will take their place." 
 
 " Do you drink ?" 
 
 " I wound up the ball of an extended 
 spree the other day, but I am not going 
 to drink any more." 
 
 " I hope your resolution may hold out." 
 
 " I will give it many a half-soling." 
 
 " Well, you may begin regular vork to 
 morrow morning." 
 
 " All right, sir." 
 
 Within two months from that time Mr. 
 Howell was one of the best dressed men 
 
A Bridegroom. 185 
 
 in the town. People who had commented 
 on his shabby appearance now called him 
 handsome. He joined the Good Templars 
 lodge and mingled in the society of the 
 tittering maidens of the village. Doctors 
 and lawyers sought his company. He 
 had brought a literary freshness to the 
 town. His jokes were new ; his courtesy 
 marked. One year passed away. Mr. 
 Howell was engaged to marry the hand 
 somest and most intelligent young woman 
 in the town. The girl s father and mother 
 were delighted. Howell was envied by all 
 the young men. The day for the wedding 
 drew near. The " popular and enterprising 
 tailor" had made HowelPs wedding suit. 
 
 One day another tramp entered the 
 office. Howell dropped his " make-up 
 rule " and sprang forward to meet him. 
 
 " Why, Shorty, how are you ?" 
 
 " Sorter slow," the tramp replied as he 
 placed his elbows on the imposing-stone. 
 " How is it with you ?" 
 
 " Oh, I am flying. Going to get 
 married to-morrow night." 
 
1 86 A Bridegroom. 
 
 " Glad to hear it. When we separated 
 that day with a carefully divided quart, I 
 didn t think your lines would so soon fall 
 in such appreciative places." 
 
 " Neither did I. It is all due, though, 
 Shorty, to my sobriety. I tell you there 
 is no hope for the drunkard. I ll never 
 drink any more." 
 
 " Glad. Expect to quit pretty soon 
 myself. What sort of wedding-toggery 
 have you got ?" 
 
 * Finest you ever saw." 
 
 "Would like to see em. Where s 
 your room?" 
 
 " Just across the street." 
 
 16 Suppose we go over." 
 
 " All right. You ought to see my girl." 
 
 They went to Howell s room. 
 
 " By George !" exclaimed Shorty. 
 " You will be fixed up in style, won t you ?" 
 
 " I should say so. Well, it s time, for 
 I have been a fool long enough." 
 
 " Say, put em on. I want to see how 
 you will look as a bridegroom." 
 
 " I don t want to rumple em." 
 
A Bridegroom. 187 
 
 " Go ahead and put em on. You 
 know that in my present plight I can t go 
 to see you step off." 
 
 " To please you, Shorty, I ll put 
 em on, but you are the only person 
 that could cause me to yield in this 
 matter." 
 
 He put on the clothes. 
 
 " By George, Oscar, you look like a 
 French dancing master. Well, I m going 
 to take a little nip." 
 
 He took a bottle out of his pocket and 
 shook it. " Here s some old stuff a fel 
 low gave me at Hopkinsville. Fifteen 
 years old. Remember the time we struck 
 that old negro for a pint of peach brandy? 
 Well, here s to you. Ah, hah, hah. 
 Would you try a little ?" 
 
 No." 
 
 " Won t hurt you. Wouldn t hurt a 
 flea. I tell you that when a fellow feels 
 bilious a little licker is a mighty good 
 thing for him. Ever get bilious ?" 
 
 "Yes, bilious now. Haven t had any 
 appetite for a week." 
 
1 88 A Bridegroom. 
 
 " I was way off the other day, but this 
 stuff (again shaking the bottle), has set 
 me all right." 
 
 " You don t mean to say that you have 
 had that licker for several days ?" 
 
 " Yes. Tell you what s a fact, a man 
 doesn t want but little of this stuff, and 
 the beauty of it is, it keeps him from 
 drinking bad licker." 
 
 " Let me smell of it." 
 
 Howell held the bottle to his nose. 
 Then, with a sudden impulse, his lips 
 closed over the neck. "Ah, that is good. 
 What sort of a time have you had since I 
 saw you last ?" 
 
 "Tough, I tell you. Take another 
 pull and hand it over here. Recollect 
 that song old Patsy Bolivar used 
 to sing When this old coat was 
 new? " 
 
 " Yes," Howell replied, " I was thinking 
 about it the other night. Let me taste 
 your ware, as Simple Simon remarked. 
 Getting pretty low, too." 
 
 "Yes, too low." 
 
A Bridegroom. \ 89 
 
 "That isn t bad. Say, can you sing 
 Patsy s song ? " 
 
 " Might if I had licker enough." 
 
 " Let s slip down the back stairs into 
 that saloon." 
 
 "All right, but ain t you going to take 
 off your wedding clothes ?" 
 
 41 No ; we won t be down there but a 
 
 few minutes." 
 
 ***** 
 
 The next day a battered bridegroom 
 and a ragged tramp awoke in a cattle car, 
 seventy-five miles from Franklin. 
 
 " Say, Oscar!" 
 
 " Well." 
 
 41 Give me your vest. You ain t got no 
 use for so much toggery." 
 
 " All right, here she is." 
 
 " Where shall we strike for ?" 
 
 "Reckon we d better get off at the 
 junction and strike out down the Memphis 
 road." 
 
DAVE SUMMERS. 
 
 HIS OWN STORY OF A ROMANCE AND 
 ITS ENDING. 
 
 Dar ain t no frolic in whut I m gwine 
 ter tell. I know dat some folks thinks 
 dat er nigger s life is made up o laziniss 
 an skylarkin , but dat belief, specially in 
 my case, ain t de truf. Oh, I had my fun 
 w en I wuz er youngster. Bless you, dar 
 wa n t er pusson in de neighborhood dat 
 hankered atter mischief mo den Dave 
 Summers did, but stead o ole age 
 bringin dat peace an rest, which, eben in 
 de libely time o youth, sensible pussons 
 looks forward ter, dar come trouble o de 
 blackest sort. 
 
 W en I wuz erbout fifty years ole, de 
 
 notion got inter my head dat I aughter 
 
 preach. I doan know how it got dar 
 
 sholy not becaze I had been thinkin 
 
 (190) 
 
Dave Summers. 191 
 
 erbout it fur de fust thing I know d 
 erbout it wuz wakin up one mawnin wid 
 de idee, I talked wid some o my frien s 
 an da said: " Dave, dat is er call, an you 
 better not be projickin wid it. De speret 
 wants yer ter fling yer voice inter de 
 gospul work an you better not make er 
 Jonah o yerse f by try in ter run erway." 
 
 "But how s I gwine ter preach?" I 
 axed. " It s bout ez much ez I ken do 
 ter read." 
 
 " De Lawd ain t axed you ter read," one 
 o 1 my frien s says. " He axes yer ter 
 preach; ef you ken read er little, you ken 
 1 arn how ter read mo ." 
 
 I went erway, mighty troubled in my 
 mine. My wife had been dead fur sebrel 
 years, an not habbin any chillum I libed 
 by myse f in er cabin on er big plantation. 
 I shet myse f up an prayed. De naixt 
 mawnin my load peared ter be heavier. 
 Dar wa n t nuthin left fur me, so I says: 
 " I will preach. I will get somebody ter 
 1 arn me how ter read mo an I will preach 
 de gospul de bes I knows how." Den I 
 
192 Dave Summers. 
 
 thought o my load, but it wuz gone. It 
 wa n t long till I stood up in de pulpit. 
 Dar wuz sebrel smart men in de church, 
 an it peared ter muze em might ly ter 
 yere ez ignunt er man ez I wuz talk erbout 
 heaben an de souls o men. Ah, Lawd! 
 ignunce ken fling ez much light on some 
 subjec s ez de greates arthly wisdom 
 ken. I went at my work in earnes , not 
 tryin* ter git up er great citement, but 
 deavorin ter show de folks de right way 
 to live in dis worl so da would be better 
 prepared for de life to come ; an ef dar 
 eber wuz er man dat wuz hones an true 
 ter his callin I b l ebes dat I wuz de pusson. 
 Mong de members o my flock wuz er 
 mighty likely oman named Frances. I 
 wuz fust drawed toward her by her singin , 
 an one time when de sweetness o her 
 music died away, I looked at her an 
 knowledge ter myse f dat I loved her. At 
 fust she sung fur my soul an I worshiped 
 wid her, but atter w ile she sung ter my 
 heart an I worshiped her. I tried ter 
 think o my ole wife lying in de shade o 
 
Dave Summers. 193 
 
 de sycamo trees, an, in my min I could 
 see de rail pen round her grave an de 
 trees would be gone an in dar place would 
 stan a likely oman smilin at me. I went 
 ter my ole wife s grave an drapped down 
 on my knees an prayed. De broad syca- 
 mo leaves waved and specks o moonlight 
 come siftin down like de fly in chaff o new 
 oats dat ketches de light o de fresh-born 
 day. Er makwin bird sung in er tree close 
 by, but, way ober on er hill, er night hawk 
 cried. I thought how me an my ole wife 
 had wucked in the fiel , side by side, an* 
 de bird seemed ter sing sweeter, but den, 
 twixt me an de grave dar hung er bright 
 smile. I tried ter rub it out wid my han , 
 but dar it hung, an through its brightness 
 I seed de worm-eat head-boa d o de grave. 
 "O, Lawd," I prayed, " let dis temptation 
 pass erway. Let dy sarvent in his ole age 
 hab de strenth ter turn fum de high- 
 strung follies o de young man." I riz up, 
 wid de damp, dead grass clingin ter my 
 knees. De lights gunter shine fum de 
 church close by, an de sad an swellin song 
 
 13 
 
194 Dave Summers. 
 
 o de congregation peared ter lay er 
 tremblin han on my heart. Why did I 
 on er sudden lean ergin er tree? Becaze I 
 heard her voice. I went inter de church 
 an ez I walked wid bowed head toward de 
 pulpit* I heard somebody whisper. " He s 
 been in de woods ter pray." I did not 
 look up but I knowed who it wuz dat 
 whispered, for my heart felt de tech o de 
 tremblin han . I preached dat night de 
 best I could, an it seemed dat I made my 
 hearers feel some o my own sadness, fur 
 w en I called fur de stricken in heart ter 
 come up ter de mou ners bench, mo come 
 forward den had eber come befo under de 
 fluence o my callin . We stayed late in 
 de church dat night. Nearly all de 
 mou ners, habin wuck ter do de naixt day, 
 had dun left de house w en I noticed one 
 po feller whose heart, it peared like, wuz 
 almos broke. He lay flat on de flo an 
 groaned like he suffered great pain. I 
 went ter him, raised him up an hiP his head 
 on my knee. De congregation thinned 
 out, one by one. I leaned over an 
 
Dave Summers. 195 
 
 talked ter de po man. Lookin up I seed 
 dat Frances was kneelin wid us. 
 
 "Lady Sister Frances," I said, "it s 
 time dat you wuz goin* home. De can les 
 is all burned away an de lamps is goin % 
 out." 
 
 " I will stay an he p you poor de ba m 
 on dis po sinner," she replied. 
 
 I didn say no mo ; but w en mo den 
 er hour afterwards de sinner got up ter go, 
 I says ter her : 
 
 "Sister Frances, if you ain t got no 
 jections, I ll walk home wid you." 
 
 She smiled de same smile dat I had 
 seed twixt me an de worm-eat head- 
 boa d o de grave an said dat she would 
 be pleased for me ter company her. I 
 doan know what I said ter her ez we 
 walked erlong, but I know dat w en we 
 got ter de little gate in front o de cabin 
 w ar her folks libed, she wuz leanin on 
 my arm. De moon had gone down, an 
 de flutterin in de trees in de yard told 
 me dat de mawnin birds wuz fixin ter 
 begin dar twitterin . 
 
 13 
 
196 Dave Summers. 
 
 " Brudder Summers," said de lady, ez I 
 wuz erbout ter bid her good-bye, "dar 
 pears ter be sunthin on yo mine." 
 
 " Not only on my mine, Sister Frances, 
 but dar is sunthin on my heart." 
 
 I was goin ter turn erway atter dis, but 
 she put her han on my arm de same 
 tremblin han dat had teched my heart 
 an said: 
 
 " Tell me bout yo troubles. Tell me 
 whut is lyin on yo heart." 
 
 " Er tremblin han , lady." 
 
 " Does you know dat it is er han ?" 
 
 " Yas, fur I keen see it in de light o er 
 bright smile." 
 
 "Isde han cold?" 
 
 "No, lady." 
 
 " Is it ez wa m ez mine ?" she said, ez 
 she put her han in my own fever-like 
 grasp. De naixt minit my arm wuz around 
 her. De mawnin birds twittered in de 
 trees, light gunter wink ercross de bot- 
 toms > an dar, ez de gold o de day wuz 
 chasin de fleetin silver o de dawn, I axed 
 her ter be my wife. 
 
Dave Summers. 197 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 We wuz married. I tuck her ter my 
 cabin an bright light fell on my hearth 
 stone. She wanted ter he p me in my 
 work o swadin folks ter do right. " I 
 know," she said, "dat folks all erround us 
 will be makin mo* money den we is, but 
 money doan water de flowers o de heart, 
 nur broaden de joyment dat comes ter de 
 soul. * I lubbed her deeper atter she said 
 dat, fur I seed dat her natur wa n t vain 
 nur her heart set upon de flesh-pots o de 
 world. 
 
 Two years passed erway two o de 
 nappies years o my life. One day dar 
 was some bills stuck up nouncin dat 
 Andrew Hennifen, er colored politician 
 dat libbed in town, would on de naixt 
 Friday make er speech ter de folks. Er 
 campaign wuz on han an gre t intrus 
 wuz felt in de outcome. Wen de day 
 come de weather wuz so showery dat da 
 
198 Dave Summers. 
 
 couldn hoi de meetiiV out do s, so some 
 o de men come ter me an axed me ef da 
 mout meet in de church. I didn much 
 think dat it wuz de right sort er meetin 
 ter be hel in de house o de Lawd, but 
 seein dat da wuz all so anxious, I tole em 
 dat da mout. Den da axed me ter go 
 ober an lissen ter de gre t speech wut de 
 generman wuz gwine ter make. I didn 
 like de idee o settin in my own church 
 and lissenin ter de skussion o de erfairs 
 o de worP. Den Frances spoke up : 
 
 " W y, Dave," she said, " if we are gwine 
 ter lib in de worl we mus take some 
 intrus in de erfairs o de worl . Ef de 
 man had got anything wuth yearin , I doan 
 see w y we aughtenter go an lissen ter 
 him. Ef we finds dat wut he says ain t 
 fit fer us, w y den we ken come erway." 
 
 " Wut you says is true, Frances," I 
 replied, "an you mus scuse me ef I is 
 holdin you back in any way. Er ole man 
 loves wid jes es much wa mth ez er young 
 man does, an it is er pity dat he doan lub 
 wid ez much jedgment." 
 
Dave Summers. 199 
 
 "You musn talk dat way, Dave," she 
 said, wid er laugh, "fur in lovin me yo 
 jedgment ain t made no mistake." 
 
 Hennifen wuz er tall, yaller man, an* 
 much younger den I spected ter fine him. 
 In his speech he used a good deal o 
 strong talk, an called er lot o folks dat 
 wa n t present, liars an 1 thieves. I didn 
 like dis, but er man dat sat naixt ter me 
 tole me dat it wuz all right, an dat ef de 
 speaker didn do dater way, de folks would 
 think dat he wuz erfeered ter nounce his 
 principles. Atter de speakin wuz over, 
 de speaker come up ter me, hil out his 
 han an said : 
 
 "Mr. Summers, I has often hearn o 
 you, sah, an I takes dis tunity o shakin 
 han s wid you." 
 
 Wen I had shuck han s wid him, he 
 said : 
 
 " Is dis yo daughter wid you ?" 
 
 " My wife, sah," said I. 
 
 "Ah, I s pleased ter meet de lady." 
 
 We walked on outen de house, an 
 Hennifen wuz so busy talkin bout de 
 
2OO Dave Summers. 
 
 gre t principles o his party dat he didn 
 seem ter notice dat he wuz walkin erway 
 fum de crowd wid us. Atter w ile he 
 stopped an said dat he reckoned he better 
 go back. 
 
 "Won t you walk on home wid us?" 
 my wife said. 
 
 "I thanks you kindly; I bTebe I will," 
 he answered. "I would like ter see de 
 inside o my stinguished quaintance s 
 house," makin er sideways motion wid 
 his head at me, "an sides dat, Tse got er 
 little bizness ter talk ober wid him." 
 
 "You will see er lowly household," said 
 I, "fur I ain t been gaged in gederin de 
 shinin goods o de yeth, but at de do you 
 will see er vine dat is watered wid truf an* 
 dat blooms in contentment." 
 
 "Dar ain t no reason why dar shouldn 
 be some o de shinin goods o de yeth in 
 yo house," said he. "De fack dat da is 
 o 1 de yeth doan meek em none de less 
 de Lawd s, an bein shiny doan meek em 
 de property o Satan." 
 
 I seed my wife look at him wid er 
 
Dave Summers. 201 
 
 quick glance, an I knowed dat she 
 proved o wut he said. I seed mo den 
 dat I seed wut until dat time had scaped 
 me I seed dat de man wuz good lookin . 
 I felt er pang o oneasiness, an I cleared 
 my froat deep, ez ef I would rasp de pang 
 outen my bosom. Wen we got ter de 
 house, he set down in er rockin cheer an 
 made hisse f look freer an easier den I 
 had eber felt in any house cep my own. 
 Frances went inter de little shed kitchin 
 dat j ined de house an cooked dinner. It 
 struck me dat she tuk er heep o pains, 
 specially w en she fotch out er table clof 
 dat I didn know she had. Atter dinner 
 Mr. Hennifen said dat he would git down 
 ter bizness. 
 
 " Mr Summers, you is too smart er man 
 ter be wastin yo substance," wuz de way 
 he started out. I didn say nothin . He 
 went on : " You hab got de bility ter 
 make yo se f mighty useful ter yo country. 
 De fluence dat you has stablished ober 
 yo fellerman ken be turned ter rich 
 ercount. De bes people in dis county 
 
202 Dave Summers. 
 
 wants ter lect Hillson fur sheriff. Dis 
 ken only be done by good men puttin 1 dar 
 shoulders ter de wheel. I is Hillson s 
 right han man, an Ps got de thority for 
 sayin dat ef you ll turn in an make 
 speeches fur him dat he will pay you 
 well." 
 
 My wife looked at me. " Mr. Henni- 
 fen," said I, "wut you say may be de 
 truf, but I is makin speeches fur de 
 Lawd." 
 
 " Yes, but makin speeches for de 
 Lawd, Mr. Summers, needn keep you 
 frum speakin in fabor o Hillson." 
 
 "Dave," said my wife, "Mr. Hennifen 
 is sholy right, an , mo n dat, ef dar s er 
 man in dis neighborhood dat needs 
 money, you is de man. De folks dat lis- 
 suns ter you preach neber seems ter 
 know dat we needs things in dis house." 
 
 " Frances," I replied, " Mr. Hillson 
 ain t er man o my choice. He has been 
 mixed up in ugly erfairs, an I kain t make 
 no speeches fur him; so, let de subjeck 
 drap right whar it is." 
 
Dave Summers. 203 
 
 Hennifen sisted on sayin mo , but I 
 tole him it wa n t no use. He didn stay 
 long atter dis, but sayin dat he would see 
 me ergin, went erway. 
 
 " Does you allus spect ter lib in pov 
 erty ? " my wife axed. 
 
 " I doan spect ter meek speeches in 
 fabor o er dishones man," I answered. 
 
 Hennifen come back inter de neigh 
 borhood de naixt week an called at my 
 house, but I wa n t at home. When I axed 
 Frances wut he had ter say, she said dat 
 he didn stay but er few minits an didn 
 say much o anythin . Er few days atter- 
 wards I hearn dat he wuz in de neighbor 
 hood ergin, workin wid de voters, but he 
 didn come ter my house, an I didn 
 hunt him. 
 
 Nearly er munt must hab passed w en 
 one day I wuz called on ter preach de funul 
 o er man ober in ernuder munity. I didn 
 git back till late in de night. De house 
 wuz dark, an ez I went up ter de do I 
 tangled my foot in de vine, stumbled an* 
 tore it up by de roots. I went in an* lit 
 
2O4 Dave Summers. 
 
 de candle. Frances wa n t dar. I called 
 her stepped to de do an called her till 
 de echo o my voice brought back wid it 
 de cry o er night bird. I went ober ter 
 er neighbor s house. De women folks 
 gun ter cry ez soon ez da seed me. I 
 axed ef da had seen Frances. 
 
 " Oh, Brudder Summers, she s dun 
 gone wid dat yaller raskil. He fotch er 
 buggy an tuck her erway." 
 
 I went down ter de sycamo trees w ar 
 my ole wife wuz buried, an got down on 
 my knees. Dar wa n t no bright smile 
 twixt me an de grave. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 De women folks fotch flowers nearly 
 ever day an put em in my house, an de 
 men folks tuck off dar hats w en da come 
 w ar I wuz. I kep on makin 1 speeches 
 fur de Lawd, an men dat wuz once noisy 
 in church wuz now quiet. 
 
Dave Summers. 205 
 
 De leckshun time come on, and I kotch 
 up my old gray boss an rid up ter town. 
 I went ter all de votin places, but didn 
 see nobody dat I knowed. I heard one 
 man say: " Wonder wut dat cuis-lookin 
 ole man is er pokin Youn yere fur?" Den 
 somebody answered: " Dar s er yaller 
 man dodgin round yere somewhar dat 
 mout fling some light on dat question." 
 Ever time I hearn o any political ter-do 
 anywhar, I rid dar, but didn see nobody 
 dat I knowed. 
 
 Winter time come, de col est winter dat 
 1 eber felt. One Sunday dar come er 
 heavy snow, an dat night it turned so 
 col dat I couldn hardly keep wa m by de 
 fire. De win blowed hard. Suthin 
 flapped ergin de winder. I hil de candle, 
 an* dar seed de great starin eyes o er 
 night bird. I turned erway an had jes 
 sot down by de fire w en I hearn er noise 
 at de do ; I lissened, an den I hearn er 
 groan. My heart felt de tech o er col 
 hand, an I knowed dat Frances had come 
 back. I opened de do ; she lay on de 
 
206 Dave Summers. 
 
 groun wid her face turned up. I tuck 
 her in my arms an laid her on de bed. 
 
 " Dave Dave, won t you forgib me ? " 
 
 I stood lookin at her. " Oh, won t 
 you forgib me ? De Lawd has pardoned 
 me, an I has come back ter ax you 
 you" 
 
 " Yas," I said, "yas, po child. Go ter 
 sleep in peace." 
 
 She looked at me an tried ter smile, 
 but de light wuz gone, an dar wa n t no 
 smile twixt me and de grave. 
 
 We laid her under de sycamo trees, 
 but not w ar my old wife wuz buried. 
 
 I kep on goin ter p litical meetin s, an 
 some folks wondered why er ole man dat 
 neber voted tuck such intrus* in sich 
 erfairs. 
 
 One day I wuz ridin long er road near 
 w ar er number o convicts wuz at work. 
 I seed er man dat I knowed cross de 
 road in front o me. I turned toward 
 him. He flung up er gun and cried out: 
 
 " Stop, er I ll kill you. Been er huntin 
 me long ernuff." 
 
Dave Summers. 207 
 
 I didn stop, an he fired at me, an* den, 
 flingin down de gun, he clim de fence 
 an gunter run ercross er fiel . Er mighty 
 yelpin noise made de a r ring, an* lookin 
 erway ter de right, I seed er lot er blood 
 hounds dat da kep fur chasin de convicts. 
 Da wuz atter de man. Somebody yelled 
 ter em ter stop, but da didn . I got often 
 my hoss, an , wid seb ral men, followed de 
 dogs. We heard de man holler we seed 
 him tryin ter fight off de dogs. " Mus- 
 syful God ! " I hearn him cry, an* den his 
 voice wuz swallowed up by de howlin o 1 
 de dogs. Wen we come up ter w ar de 
 dogs wuz, I seed er man tore all ter pieces, 
 an I seed er dog, atter lookin at me, 
 bury his teeth in er yaller face. 
 
 Dat night ez I riz up frum my ole wife s 
 grave, de dead, damp grass clung ter my 
 knees. 
 
THE CAPTAIN S ROMANCE. 
 
 Capt. Rilford is known as one of the 
 bravest and most gallant officers of the 
 United States army. He is one of those 
 old bachelors to whom the passing years 
 bring additional installments of romance. 
 I have seen him go into ecstatic spasms 
 over a spout spring in the mountains, 
 and have known him to lie under a tree 
 and shed tears over the misfortunes of 
 a heroine drawn by some fourth-class 
 romancer ; but in action he was so fearless 
 that his brother officers excused what 
 they pleased to term his soft qualities. 
 
 A short time ago the captain was 
 granted a leave of absence. He had 
 long since grown tired of all the fashion 
 able watering-places, and no longer could 
 find anything in the cities to interest him, 
 
 so the question of how he should spend 
 (208) 
 
The Captains Romance. 209 
 
 that time, which was all his own, began to 
 perplex him. 
 
 " I am acquainted with both the wild 
 and civilized life of our country," said he, 
 addressing a friend. " I know the wild 
 Indian and the Boston swell ; and, to tell 
 you the truth, I don t know what to do." 
 
 " Yes, you are acquainted with the ex 
 tremes," the friend rejoined, "but do you 
 know much of the intermediate ? You 
 have made a study of the Indian in his 
 wild state, but do you know anything of 
 him as a citizen ? Why not go to the 
 Indian Territory, the Cherokee Nation, 
 for instance, and amuse yourself by study 
 ing the habits of the Indian farmer?" 
 
 The captain was so impressed with the 
 idea that, the next day, he set out for the 
 Indian Territory. He found the country 
 to be beautiful, with hills of charming 
 contemplation and valleys of enrapturing 
 romance. Streams like moving silver 
 thrilled him, and birds, whom it seemed 
 had just found new songs, made the 
 leaves quiver with echoing music. After 
 
 14 
 
The Captains Romance. 
 
 several days of delightful roaming, the 
 captain rented a small cabin, and, having 
 provided himself with a few cooking uten 
 sils, settled down to housekeeping. With 
 the rifle and the fishing rod he provided 
 ample food, and as he soon became ac 
 quainted with several farmers he thought, 
 over and over again, that his romantic 
 craving had never before approached so 
 near to (in his own words) sublime satis 
 faction. His nearest neighbor, four miles 
 distant, was an Indian farmer named Tom 
 Patterson. His family consisted of a wife 
 and one daughter, a rather handsome 
 girl. She had learned to read and write, 
 and, as she seemed to be romantic, the 
 captain soon became much interested in 
 her. 
 
 Patterson was rather a kind-hearted old 
 fellow, accommodating in everything but 
 answering questions concerning his family, 
 but this was not an eccentricity, for nearly 
 all Indians are disposed to say as little as 
 possible with regard to themselves. Ansy, 
 the girl, was fond of fishing, and as no 
 
The Captains Romance. 2 1 1 
 
 restraint was placed upon her actions, she 
 and the captain (his words again) had 
 many a delightful stroll. 
 
 There was, I had forgotten to mention, 
 another member of the Patterson house 
 hold, a negro named Alf. He was as 
 dark as the musings of a dyspeptic, but 
 he was good-natured and obliging. 
 
 " Rather odd that a colored man, so 
 fond of political life, should live out here 
 away from the States, isn t it, Alf ?" the 
 captain one day asked. 
 
 " Wall, no, sah, kain t say dat it is. 
 Dar s er right smart sprinklin o us gen- 
 ermen out yare, an dough we s mighty 
 fur erpart we manages ter keep up good 
 sciety, sah. Yes, sah, an 1 ef it wa n t fur 
 de cullud genermen in dis yare munity 
 w y de Territory would dun been gone 
 ter rack an ruin. Caze why? I ll tell yo , 
 sah. De Ingin is a mighty han ter fur 
 nish meat, but gittin o de bread is a dif 
 ferent thing. In udder words, sah, he kin 
 kill er deer but he ain t er good han to 
 raise co n. Yes, sah, de nigger ken plow 
 
 14 
 
212 The Captains Romance. 
 
 all roun de Ingin, an de Ingin knowin 
 dis, ginally gins de niggah er good 
 chance." 
 
 " You work with Mr. Patterson on 
 shares, don t you ?" 
 
 " Yes, sah ; ha f o dis crap longs ter 
 me. W y, fo I come yare dar wa n t 
 hardly nuthin raised on dis place but 
 weeds an grass. I happened to meet 
 Patterson in Fort Smif one time. He 
 hearn me talk erbout farmin 7 an den he 
 made a dead set at me ter come home 
 wid him." 
 
 "Are the people throughout this neigh 
 borhood very peaceable ?" 
 
 " Yas, sah, lessen da gits spicious o er 
 pusson, an den look out. Da looks cuis 
 at ever stranger, thinkin dat he s spyin 
 roun an try in ter talk de Injuns in faber 
 o openin up this yare territory. Dar s 
 er passul o fellers ober de creek dat calls 
 darselves de Clicks. Da is allus spic 
 ious, an I tells you whut s er fack, I d 
 ruther hab er team o mules run ober me 
 an den be butted by a muley steer an I 
 
The Captains Romance. 213 
 
 does think way down in my cibilization 
 dat er muley steer ken thump harder den 
 anything on de face o de yeth den ter 
 hab dem Clicks git atter me. Seed em 
 hang er pusson once jes fur nuthin in de 
 worl , an da didn ax him no questions, 
 nuther." 
 
 As the days passed the girl seemed to 
 be more and more pleased with the cap 
 tain. One evening they sat on the bank 
 of a stream, fishing. The sun had sunk 
 beyond a distant hill, but continued to 
 pour over his light, like a golden water 
 fall. 
 
 "Ansy," said the captain, "this is a 
 beautiful and romantic country ; but do 
 you not grow tired of living here all the 
 time ?" 
 
 " If we don t know any other life we da 
 not grow tired of this one," she replied. 
 
 "You are a little philosopher," the cap 
 tain exclaimed. 
 
 " I don t know what that is, Captain, but 
 if you want me to be one I will try to 
 be." 
 
214 The Captains Romance. 
 
 The captain smiled and regarded her 
 with a look of affection. 
 
 "The great cities would delight you for 
 a time, Ansy, and then you could come 
 back here with a heightened appreciation 
 of the sublime surroundings of your own 
 home." 
 
 "The sun has blown out his candle," 
 she said, pointing. " It is time for us 
 to go." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The captain could not sleep. He had 
 extinguished his lamp, but on the wall 
 there was a bright light. It grew brighter, 
 and then he saw that it was the face of 
 Ansy. A rap came at the door. 
 
 " Who s there ?" 
 
 " Captain, for God s sake run away. 
 The Clicks are coming after you." 
 
 It was the voice of Ansy. 
 
 The captain dressed himself and opened 
 the door. The girl was gone. The moon 
 
The Captain s Romance. 215 
 
 was shining. The officer was not the 
 man to run away. He closed the door, 
 took up a repeating rifle and opened a 
 small window. He waited. A few 
 moments passed and he saw several men 
 enter the clearing in front of the cabin. 
 
 " What do you want here ?" the captain 
 shouted. 
 
 " We want you." 
 
 " What do you want with me ?" 
 
 " Ask you some questions." 
 
 " You may ask questions, but don t 
 come a step nearer." 
 
 " What did you come here for ?" 
 
 " None of your business." 
 
 This reply created a commotion. The 
 captain could hear the marauders swear 
 ing. " We ll break down the door," one 
 of them said as he stepped forward. The 
 next moment he had fallen to the ground. 
 When the smoke cleared away the captain 
 saw that the rascals were gone, but there 
 soon came from the woods a shower of 
 blazing arrows. It was time to get away. 
 The captain made a hole in the roof. 
 
216 The Captains Romance. 
 
 crawled out, sprang to the ground and 
 hurried into the woods. 
 
 Early the next morning he went to Pat 
 terson s house. The family had heard of 
 the fight. 
 
 "You neenter be larmed now, dough, 
 sah," said Alf, the negro, "caze da foun 
 out dat you wuz er Newnited States ossi- 
 fer, an it skeered em putty nigh ter def. 
 You gin it ter one o em putty hard, I 
 ken tell you. Shot him squar through, 
 an da doan think he gwine ter lib, da 
 doan, but dat ain t no matter, fur he wuz 
 de wust one in de bunch. Ef he dies, 
 folks roun yare will hoi* er pra r-meetin* 
 thankin de Lawd." 
 
 Patterson and his wife left the room, 
 but the negro sat in the doorway. 
 
 "Ansy," said the captain, "I owe my 
 life to you." 
 
 "Dat you does, sah," Alf replied. 
 
 The captain gave him a significant 
 glance and again turned to the girl. 
 
 " Yes, you have saved my life, but that 
 is not the cause of my deep deep (he 
 
The Captains Romance. 217 
 
 glanced at the negro) deep regard for 
 you." 
 
 The girl made no reply. The captain 
 could have killed the negro. " I will 
 ignore his black presence," the captain 
 mused. He leaned over and took the 
 girPs hand. 
 
 "Ansy," said the negro, " w en dis yare 
 generman gits through wid yo han I 
 wants you ter sew er few buttons on dat 
 ar hickory shirt o mine." 
 
 "You scoundrel," exclaimed the captain, 
 springing to his feet, " how dare you speak 
 in such a manner to this young lady?" 
 
 "Why, boss," the negro replied, "what s 
 de use n makin sich er great miration. 
 Dat oman has been my wife fur putty 
 nigh two years." 
 
 The captain s romance was ended. 
 
OLD TILDY. 
 
 In nearly every neighborhood of the 
 South, there comes, in the fall of the 
 year, a sort of religious wave. Men, who, 
 during the summer swore at their horses 
 and stopped but little short of blasphemy, 
 in imprecatory remarks addressed to 
 obdurate steers, turn reverently, after 
 fodder-pulling time, to Mt. Zion, Eben- 
 eezer, New Hope and Round Pond, to 
 hear the enthusiastic pleadings of the 
 circuit rider and the begging injunctions 
 of the strolling evangelist. Robert s 
 Cove, in East Tennessee, is a neighbor 
 hood typical of this peculiar religious con 
 dition. Last autumn, when the katydid 
 shivered on the damp oak leaf and the 
 raccoon cracked the shell of the pinching 
 
 "crawfish," there suddenly appeared at 
 (218) 
 
Old Tildy. 219 
 
 Ebeneezer meeting-house a young man of 
 most remarkable presence. He was 
 handsome, tall, graceful, and with hair as 
 bright and waving as the locks of the 
 vision that come to Clarence in his awful 
 dream. He said that his name was John 
 Mayberry. He had come to preach the 
 gospel in a simple, child-like way, and 
 hoped that his hearers, for the good of 
 their souls, would pay respectful heed to 
 his words. A materialist would have 
 called him a fanatic, but as there were no 
 materialists in that neighborhood, he soon 
 became known as a devout Christian and 
 a powerful worker in the harvest-field of 
 faith. He read hallowed books written 
 by men who lived when the ungodly sword 
 and the godly pen were at war against 
 each other, and in his fervor his language 
 bore a power which his rude hearers had 
 never felt before. 
 
 One night, after a stormy time at the 
 mourners bench, and while women whose 
 spirits were distressed still stood sobbing 
 about the altar, Mayberry approached a 
 
220 Old Tildy. 
 
 well-known member of the church, and 
 said : 
 
 " Who is that peculiar old woman, that 
 wrinkled and strange-eyed dwarf who sits 
 so near the pulpit every night ?" 
 
 " We call her old Tildy," Brother Hen- 
 dricks replied. " She has been a-livin in 
 this here neighborhood mighty nigh ever 
 sense I kin ricolleck. She s a mighty 
 strange old woman, but I never hearn no 
 harm uv her." 
 
 " She may be a good woman," the 
 preacher rejoined, but she casts a chill 
 over me every time I look at her. Good 
 bye, Brother Hendricks. Think of me 
 to-night when you get down on your 
 knees." 
 
 The preacher sought his temporary 
 home. He lived about a mile from the 
 church, in an old log cabin with one room. 
 Many of the people had offered him a 
 home, but, declining, he declared that he 
 wanted to be alone at night, so that, 
 undisturbed, he could pursue his studies 
 or pray for inspiration. 
 
Old Tildy. 221 
 
 The hour was late. The preacher had 
 taken down "Fox s Book of Martyrs" 
 and was looking at its thrilling illustra 
 tions, when a knock at the door startled 
 him. 
 
 " Come in," he called. 
 
 Old Tildy stepped into the room, and, 
 quickly closing the door, stood with her 
 back against it. She nodded her head 
 and smiled a snaggle-tooth grin and 
 said : 
 
 " How air yer, Brother Mayberry ?" 
 
 " I am very well, I thank you." 
 
 " Powerful glad ter know that folks air 
 well." 
 
 " Thank you ; but what business can 
 you have with me at this time of night ?" 
 
 " Mighty portant bizness, Brother May- 
 berry, mighty portant/ 
 
 " Does it concern your soul ?" 
 
 " Not ez much ez it do yourn, Brother 
 Mayberry; not nigh so much ez it do 
 yourn." 
 
 " I don t understand you !" the evangel 
 ist exclaimed. 
 
222 Old Tildy. 
 
 " But I ll see that you do, Brother 
 Mayberry. I reckon youVe noticed me 
 at church, hai nt you ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, whut you reckon I went thar 
 fur ?" 
 
 " To hear the gospel, I suppose." 
 
 " Not much, Brother Mayberry; not 
 much. I went thar to see you." 
 
 " To see me ! Why on earth, madam, 
 do you care to see me ?" 
 
 " Would ruther see you on earth, 
 Brother Mayberry, than anywhar else. I 
 went to see you, Brother Mayberry, 
 because I love you." 
 
 " Merciful heavens !" exclaimed the 
 evangelist, throwing up his hands in a 
 gesture of horror. 
 
 " Yes, Brother Mayberry, I love you, 
 and I want you to be my husband." 
 
 " Oh, God forbid !" the disgusted 
 preacher groaned. 
 
 "Yes, Brother Mayberry, but the 
 Lawd hain t forbid. Let me tell you one 
 thing: when old Tildy sets her head, w y 
 
Old Tildy. 223 
 
 suthin is goin ter happen. Does folks 
 cross old Tildy ? Yes, sometimes. Did 
 old Patterson cross Tildy ? Yes, Patter 
 son crossed po , old, harmless Tildy. 
 Whut did Tildy do ? She grabbed Pat 
 terson s boy an hil him under the water 
 till he was drounded. Did Martin cross 
 old Tildy? Yes, Martin crossed old 
 Tildy. What did old Tildy do ? She 
 met old Martin in the woods an killed 
 him, an folks thought he killed hisse f. 
 Now, air you, in the bloom o yo youth 
 and beauty, goin to cross po , old, harm 
 less Tildy ?" 
 
 The cold dew of horror gathered in 
 beads on the preacher s brow. " Mad 
 am," said he, " I cannot marry you. Your 
 request is preposterous ; your presence is 
 appalling. Go away." 
 
 " Not until I lead my husband with me, 
 Brother Mayberry." 
 
 "Go, I tell you, or I will throw you out 
 of the house." 
 
 " Throw po\ old, harmless Tildy out of 
 the house ? Ha, ha ! Brother Mayberry !" 
 
224 Old Tildy. 
 
 She took a horse-pistol from under her 
 apron. " Buckshot in this, Brother May- 
 berry ; ha, buckshot." 
 
 The preacher sank down on a chair. 
 He did not care to die. In life there was 
 such a bright promise of the good he 
 could accomplish. He could not marry 
 the hag, but there she stood with her 
 awful weapon. Could he not rush upon 
 her? 
 
 "No, you can t, Brother Mayberry," 
 she said, lifting the pistol. She was read 
 ing his thoughts. Could he not pretend 
 that he would marry her, and afterward 
 make his escape? 
 
 " No, you can t, Brother Mayberry," 
 she said. "The jestice uv the peace is 
 waitin outside with the license. Oh, no, 
 Brother Mayberry, I ll not give you a 
 chance ter run away. Wouldn t it be 
 awful fur the people ter come here ter- 
 morrer an* find Brother Mayberry with a 
 hole through his beautiful head? Must 
 I call the jestice uv the peace, ur shoot 
 you ?" 
 
Old Tildy. 225 
 
 " Merciful heavens, what is to become 
 of me ? I cannot die this way." 
 
 " Yes you can, Brother Mayberry." 
 
 " Oh, I cannot marry this hag." 
 
 " Not this hag, but yo own true love, 
 Brother Mayberry. Come, whut do you 
 say?" 
 
 The preacher dropped upon his knees. 
 The woman advanced a few steps. The 
 preacher heard some one at the door. 
 Was it the justice of the peace whom the 
 woman had under her control? A man 
 stepped into the room. 
 
 "What does this mean?" he asked. 
 
 " This horrible creature is going to kill 
 me if I don t marry her," the preacher 
 replied. "Are you the justice of the 
 peace ?" 
 
 The man laughed. " No, I m no 
 squire. Coin ter kill you, eh ? But what 
 with ?" 
 
 "That awful horse-pistol." 
 
 "That s no pistol. It s simply a stick. 
 W y this is one of her favorite games. 
 
 15 
 
226 Old Tildy. 
 
 Kill you ! Why she never hurt a thing 
 in her life." 
 
 "How about Patterson s boy?" the 
 preacher asked. 
 
 "He s all right. I seed him this 
 
 mawnin ." 
 
 " Yes, but she killed old Martin." 
 " Did she? I saw him not more than 
 three hours ago. Come, Tildy, go on 
 away." 
 
 She put the crooked stick under her 
 apron, and, without saying a word, glided 
 out into the darkness. The preacher 
 lifted his hands and uttered a fervent 
 prayer. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
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