Killis is aiming his gun at a tree, while galloping on a horse.“'I got a dead tree up the hollow I practice on all the time.'”
A murmur of quiet approval began with Nucky and passed around the circle.
After the other boys went to bed, I finally extracted from Killis a solemn promise not to perform this "duty" before he was eighteen. It was the utmost I could accomplish,—long years of training must do the rest.
The first real snow yesterday, and the boys wild in consequence. On our walk up Perilous, they found drifts in which they dived and wallowed. Coming back I noticed that Jason was quite hoarse; and in the middle of the night I was awakened by strange and painful sounds, as if someone were choking to death. The night was cold, the bed warm; I lay and listened a moment longer. Then flinging on wrapper and slippers, I ran across the sitting-room to the upper bedroom. Jason was sitting up in bed, gasping for breath.
One boy is wallowing in the snow, another is diving, two are cheering them on. One is making a snowball, and another has one ready to fling. Two more are running to join the others.“The first real snow yesterday, and the boys wild in consequence.”
"What is the matter with you?" I asked.
"Croup," he croaked, between gasps.
"Did you ever have it before?"
"I follow havin' it."
"Why didn't you tell me it was coming on?"
"Afeared you'd whup me."
I wrung my hands. "Cleo," I called back, "what in the world should be done for croup?"
But for once her resources failed. "Some ties grease around their necks," she said.
I have a maxim, "when in doubt try a hot-water-bag". Desperately stirring the fire in my grate, I put on water, and while it was heating spread vaseline on a handkerchief. Then flying back to Jason, I slapped first the handkerchief, then the hot bag, upon his chest. Apparently the child was choking to death,—I was terribly frightened,—the water may have been a little over-hot. At any rate, between chokes, my "little pet" raised the most roof-splitting yells. "Take it off! Take it off! Paw he gits me pole-cat-grease!" All the boys jumped out of their beds and came running. Jason fought me like a little tiger; but grabbing him by the hair, I held the bag on with all my might. His yells increased. "Oh, God, she's a-killing me! Oh, God, she's a-burning me up! Oh, God, gimme pole-cat-grease, pole-cat-grease, po—ole-cat-grease!" It was an awful moment; but I held my ground and the bag. In a few seconds, which seemed ages, the cries and chokes lessened, the breathing became quieter, the tense little frame relaxed, and danger was past.
Half an hour later, when, weak but safe, my angel child lay quiet on his pillow, Philip, standing over him, remarked philosophically,
"Son, you'd a-waited a right smart spell for pole-cat-grease,—better to lose a patch of your hide than die waiting for that!"
All day my heart has been overflowing with thankfulness; and to-night when I accompanied my sons to the beautiful Thanksgiving party at the big house, where all the young folks from miles around were gathered, and observed their handsome appearance in their Sunday suits and gay new ties, and, still better, their ease of manner, and social graces, my heart swelled with pride almost to bursting. I own to a weakness for pretty looks and pretty ways; and with the exception of Philip, who scorned to play any of the games in which girls had a part, my boys quite satisfied me to-night.
Still later, when we came home and sat around our fire to talk it over, I in my pink party dress, Nucky and Keats leaning against my shoulders, Jason and Iry with their heads in my lap, the other eight gathered as closely as possible about me, it seemed to me I had reached the point where I could say "My cup runneth over". When was a lonely heart more truly comforted, a forlorn creature snatched from greater desolation to brighter cheer? "Yea, the sparrow hath found her a nest", "Thou has set the desolate in families". Almost a miraculous thing it seems that I should actually have the desire of my heart,—a houseful of children; and, instead of the hideous loneliness I looked forward to a few months ago, the delightful task of bringing up these twelve sons to manhood and good citizenship. Indeed, I often ask myself, what other boys have such gifts to bring to their nation? Proud, self-reliant, the sons of heroes, bred in brave traditions, knowing nothing of the debasing greed for money, strengthened by a hand-to-hand struggle with nature from their very infancy (I have not one who did not begin at five or six to shoulder such family responsibilities as hoeing corn all summer, tending stock, clearing new ground, grubbing, hunting, gathering the crop), they should bring to the service of their country primal energy of body and spirit, unquenchable valor, and minds untainted by the lust of wealth.
Yes, I know that I am greatly blessed. Children of my own could be no dearer to me, and certainly not half so interesting; and my heart is fed and satisfied. After all, is not motherhood less a thing of the flesh than of the spirit,—indeed, the richest, fairest blossoming known to the human spirit? I believe that if all the sad, lonely, self-centred women in the land could know what joy dwells in my heart to-night, within twenty-four hours orphan asylums would be depopulated, city streets waifless.
Nucky lingered after the others went off to bed, to cover the fire. Then he opened the front door, and stood looking out into the bright moonlight. "These is the nights Blant needs me at home," he said, sighing deeply; "seems like I can't get no peace or rest in my mind for troubling over him." I crossed the room and stood beside Nucky, also looking out. As I gazed, his fear was communicated to me, and the fair moonlight seemed suddenly cruel and chill.
A mail-carrier rides over from Powderhorn way twice a week. This morning, while cleaning was in progress, he stopped at the cottage gate. "I allowed I'd stop and tell you the news from Trigger," he said. "Another battle fit over the fence last night. I have been looking for it ever sence Todd and Dalt come back, knowing they wa'n't bad wounded in the election fight. Blant has been looking for it, too, and him and Rich has took turns keeping watch of a day, and of moonlight nights. Last night was Blant's watch; but he was powerful tired from logging, and the babe was punier than common, and he had to set up with it longer, and before he knowed it he drapped off to sleep there a-holding it before the fire; and there he sot till he was woke by chilling about eleven. Then he walked out to see how the land lay at the fence; and there was the whole b'iling of Cheevers, with very near all the rails drug off the old boundary, and a-laying 'em on the new. All hands got to work with their guns, and anybody'd a-thought sure they'd finish him, so many ag'in' one; but by good luck all of 'em put together haint got his aim, and atter a few was wounded, they took to their heels and abandoned the field. That 'ere Blant is a pure wonder; but such good luck haint apt to hit twice, and they're bound to git him sooner or later. I hope I may die if he haint the worst handicapped for warfare ever I seed, with a family to feed, and a whole passel of young uns to be paw and maw to, and the babe pindling all the time, and Rich on yan side the mountain, and his uncle Billy's boys a mile up the branch."
When I turned around to speak to Nucky, who had been just behind me, he was gone. Great as is my anxiety about him, I realize the uselessness of trying to send after him, or to hold him back.
Nucky returned last night, after nearly a week of absence,—it seems that Blant was glad of his help this time. He says that on Monday they gathered together Rich and his uncle Billy's boys and one or two more, and in broad daylight laid the fence again on the old line, every man working armed, those who drove the mules that dragged the rails walking with guns in position, those who laid the rails doing so with guns tucked under their arms. "I carried my rifle Cap'n Enoch Marrs fit the British with," said Nucky. But though the Marrs side worked all day at the fence, and the Cheevers must have known what was going on, not one of them appeared. "They have had their fill of fighting Blant in the open," said Nucky; "what they will do now will be to kill him from cover. Todd he won't stop at nothing. And Blant he haint able to look out for hisself with so much to tend to, and needs me there to be eyes for him, especially now, with Christmas coming on, and all the drinking and devilment that is allus done then. But he won't listen to no reason, or let me stay."
"I am sure that Richard Tarrant will be with him day and night," I said, to comfort him.
"Yes; but tha'in't nobody got the eye for a Cheever I got, or can keep watch like me."
I share Nucky's feeling that he ought to be there to be eyes for Blant; at the same time I am inexpressibly thankful that Blant refuses to keep him, and that he is here with me in safety.
Already the air is full of Christmas talk and plans. Besides the great tree here in our school for the entire neighborhood, the workers and teachers expect to have seven or eight trees in other localities, thus bringing brightness and cheer and the Christmas story into many sad and colorless lives. I should have been glad to have a tree over on Trigger; but a gathering there in the present state of feeling would be extremely dangerous, and by Nucky's advice, I have abandoned the hope. "I'd like to have you come over," he said; "but Trigger haint no place for women or women's doings now."
Another excitement is the telephone just set up in our village, connecting us with the railroad and the outside world.—All the boys went down this afternoon to see and hear the marvel.
I have begun teaching some of the beautiful old English carols to our boys and girls,—it seems peculiarly fitting that these children of pure English stock should sing the carols centuries ago upon the lips of their ancestors. But the task is an uphill one with the boys,—they refuse to take any interest in this or any other Christmas preparation. When I reproached them to-night for their apathy, Philip said,
"Nothing here to take no interest in,—won't be no chance for no Christmas doings till we git away from here."
"But there will be great Christmas doings," I said, "just the very best that can be thought of."
"What,—you women aiming to lay in a store of liquor and do a lot of shooting?" he asked, with dawning hope.
"Horrors, no!" I exclaimed.
"Them's the good times I allus seed a-Christmas."
"Me, too!" echoed the other eleven.
"Didn't you ever hang up your stocking, or have a tree or get presents?"
"Never heared tell of the like till I come here."
"But it's the greatest possible fun," I insisted.
"Fun enough for women, may be, but men,—gee!"
"Gimme a big jug of moonshine!" shouted Joab.
"And a galloping nag!" cried Nucky.
"And a pistol in both hands!" added Killis.
"Boys," I said, "is it possible you can be willing to spend the holy season of Christmas in drinking and shooting?"
"Only way I ever heared of anybody spending it," said Philip; "everybody does it. If there's ary boy here," he added, "that haint been drunk, or tried to, every Christmas he can ricollect, hold up your hand!"
Not a hand moved, till suddenly, as if by an afterthought, Killis's went up. "I weren't last Christmas," he said; "when paw got shot and lay a-dying, he told me never to drink another drap, and I haint toch it sence."
"Mighty hard on you," remarked Joab; "I never pass a Christmas without being drunk,—paw he gen'ally fills me'n Iry up till we can't see single, and then makes us walk a crack in the floor, for fun."
"I allus used to swill all I could hold, from New Christmas to Old Christmas," said Killis.
"I drink all I want and then ride around on Blant's nag and shoot off my rifle," said Nucky.
"When I were a five-year-old," contributed Geordie, "my uncles give me a pint of liquor, and then put a cocked pistol in my hand and p'inted it at Absalom, and told me to shoot. I fired away,—good thing I weren't sober, I'd a-kilt him sure!"
"The neighbors up the branch they invites us to their house and treats us a-Christmas," said Hen; "but Keats he haint half a man,—I can drink twict as much as him!"
"Self-brag is half-scandal," exclaimed Keats, angrily; "it's because I've had white swelling and typhoid I can't drink as much as you, you sorry little scald-pate!"
"Paw and me got so drunk last Christmas we couldn't roll over in bed," piped up Jason.
Taulbee, the great stickler for propriety, summed up the matter authoritatively: "Folks would think they was bad off if they couldn't pass around a jug of liquor a-Christmas," he said; "they would feel like it weren't showing hospitality."
When I remember that this was the idea of the entire Christian world less than a century ago, I cannot be too severe upon my boys, distressing as these conditions are.
Killis spoke again shortly. "I want every boy here that can get to my house on Clinch a-Christmas to come, and see a good time," he announced. "Come the Saturday after New Christmas. I can't drink myself, on account of what paw said; but I got good-and-plenty for my friends. And maw she'll give you all you can eat. And we'll shoot off all paw's guns and pistols."
There was unanimous acceptance, even by boys living nearly forty miles distant from Killis, Nucky's being qualified by the condition, "If the Cheevers haint giving too much trouble at home."
I sighed deeply. "Boys," I said, "you know what I think about drinking; you know I consider it very, very wrong."
"Quare women has quare notions," remarked Joab, forbearingly.
"You know I hope the day will come when not one of you will ever touch liquor," I said. "Is there one now who thinks enough of me to promise not to drink this Christmas?"
The dead silence that followed was broken at last by Philip. "We like you all right," he said; "but, by grab, a fellow's got to see some fun!"
It is rumored that Killis's uncles still carry on the business in which his father perished; so I suppose there will be no doubt about the "good-and-plenty" to drink at his house.
Two birthdays this past week, Philip's thirteenth, Wednesday, and Nucky's twelfth yesterday, and the excitement of having gorgeous birthday cakes at our table, and passing around candles for birthday wishes.
At bed-time last night, Hen came up from the wash-house looking extremely clean as to head and feet. When he was passing into the bedroom however, I called him back. "What is that dark band just below your nightgown?" I asked.
He made no reply, but stooped so that his gown should fall lower. I lifted the hem to his knees, revealing the fact that the cleanness stopped half-way, and that above that line his legs were more than dingy. "Didn't you wash all over?" I inquired.
"Not quite all."
"How much did you wash?"
"Down to my neck and very near up to my knees. That dag-gone ole gown done shrunk up two inches sence the last time."
"But didn't I tell you you must wash all over every single bath?"
"That was before cold weather sot in. Philip he said down to your neck and up to your knees was a-plenty in cold weather, and allhewas aiming to do; and it's all any of us boys been a-doing sence November started in."
"You haint never washed as far up as your knees, son," corrected Keats, from superior heights; "you allus stop where your nightgown comes to. I told you she'd ketch you if you done that!"
Summoning all my family, I found the shocking fact to be true that for six weeks not one had bathed any farther than "down to my neck and up to my knees,"—they rather gloried in it, especially Philip, and complained bitterly when made to lose several days' play time, in addition to taking a complete bath instantly, every one, though it was already past bed-time.
Truly my Thanksgiving pride in their beautiful manners and aristocratic appearance has received a severe shock!
No time to catch one's breath for ten days. Now the festivities are over. First came the tree last night. It was an exciting time as all of us, teachers, children, and parents from miles around, dressed in our best, sat waiting, the sole blot on my happiness being that just as the curtain was drawn back, revealing the splendid "spruce-pine" (hemlock) with its gleaming candles, strings of popcorn and hollyberries, and mysterious packages tied and banked around, my Philip, having successfully eluded me beforehand, stepped out on the platform, with a dirty face, tousled hair, soiled shirt, gallusses fastened by one nail, and a large hole in the seat of his breeches, to hand the gifts to Santa Claus for distribution.
Then, before daylight this morning, came the boys' carols, sung through halls and stairways of the big house, and down through the village street, awakening the valley with the glad tidings; and, finally, the great moment after breakfast, when our resident children were turned into the library, where, on a "fireboard" extended for the occasion across two sides of the room, hung seventy gay stockings. Great was the joy of little and big girls, many of whom had never beheld a doll before, over the pretty "poppets" in the tops of their stockings; great, though quieter, the pleasure of the boys in "store" marbles, balls and knives, not to mention candy and "orange-apples"; but greatest was the happiness of little Iry, the "pure scholar," as, after gazing long and wonderingly at the large picture beneath his stocking, he at last clasped it rapturously to his heart, crying, "Me'n my maw! I got my maw back ag'in!" I knew he would recognize it!
My own stocking, too, held its treasures,—ten sticks of candy from Nucky, a little poke of brown-sugar and crackers (greatest luxury known to mountain children) from Killis, a walnut penholder from Philip, a fine apple, all the way from Rakeshin, and treasured for weeks for the purpose, from Iry, a red-flannel pincushion from Jason.
Then came the painful moment when I saw my boys scatter to their homes,—even Jason, who has no home, went for a week with Keats and Hen. Again I begged Killis not to get the boys drunk when they visit him Saturday, but he would make no promise. Last of all, and most reluctantly, I bade Nucky goodbye. I fear and dread the events that this Christmas season may bring to pass on Trigger,—with one accord, the boys prophesy "bloody doings" there. I would keep him back if I could; but nothing can prevent his going.
And now I shall have a much needed rest, and a chance to catch up on magazines and books laid away for five months.
The day has been ages long,—I cannot read or rest,—the old loneliness is all back upon me again. Why did I let all the boys go? And how am I to face the ten days of their absence? The silence is awful. I would give the world to hear the dozen pairs of shoes come thundering across the little bridge and into the cottage, the shrill voices raised in play or song or even a fight!
My joy may be imagined when, as I started to breakfast this morning, I saw Jason come climbing over the big gate. To my pleased inquiries as to the cause of his return, he finally murmured with pretty bashfulness, "I were homesick for you!" "My darling child!" I cried, hugging him very hard. Then we went to the village and bought all the goodies he felt able to eat; and all day I have sat on the floor playing marbles with him. If I did not have Killis's party, and Nucky's danger to worry over, I should be quite happy. As it is, a sense of foreboding oppresses me. When this evening I saw a splendid moon, almost full, hang over the wooded mountain to the East, my fears were quickened.
All Thursday, yesterday and last night, I worried and could not sleep; and my anxiety has now reached a pitch where I must do, and no longer think. Something terrible hangs over me,—I know not whether it is some casualty to-day at Killis's, consequent upon the drinking and shooting, or something still more dreadful on Trigger Branch. At any rate, there is nothing to prevent my riding over to Clinch, and then, if I find all well there, going the eight miles farther to Nucky's, and persuading him to return with me if possible. I am just about to set off with Jason.
We came by way of Nancy's Perilous, passing the Salyer home. Keats was out chopping wood in the snow, and greeted me joyfully. I accepted his invitation to alight for dinner; but before I could get off the nag, he remarked, "I see you got your little pet up behind you,—did he tell you how come him to leave a-Thursday?"
"Yes," I replied, proudly; "he was homesick for me."
Keats measured Jason with his eye. "He's the lyin'est little devil ever I seed," he said; "I'll tell you what made him go. Him and Hiram fit from the time he stepped in the door, and all through supper, and off'n on all night, and got up before day to start in ag'in; and Hiram he got him down and rid him, and Jason he pult his Christmas knife out of his pocket and jobbed it in Hiram's wrist, and maw she tuck atter him with a hickory, and he run away."
I slid off Mandy, called for another hickory, sternly dragged down my "darling child," and gave him, not only the punishment he escaped on Thursday, but another on my own account; the bitterness of it being doubled for him when all the Salyers, including Hiram, came out to see it well done.
After a hasty dinner, we started on again,—I could not be satisfied to tarry. Dark pictures rose before me all the way,—my dear boys drinking, shooting, maybe killing one another—and I urged Mandy on, scarcely feeling the cold wind that blew down from the snowy mountains.
It was past three when I reached the Blair home. Behind it rose a great hollow, filled with dark hemlocks. I gazed up into it with a shudder, remembering it was here that Killis's father died.
Mrs. Blair met me at the door, and in answer to my inquiries for the boys, said, "They've been in and out all day; now they're up the branch shooting."
"Have they been drinking much?" I asked.
"A sight!" she answered; then she continued smiling, "but what they've drank won't hurt 'em much, I reckon. When Killis come home a-Wednesday, he called for several jugs of liquor for the boys a-Saturday; and I told him all right, for I don't never deny him nothing. But next day 'peared like he was thoughtful in his mind, and come evening, he said if he had something that weren't pure liquor, but would just sort of cheer the boys, he would give 'em that, to please you. And I recollected there was a barrel of cider left. So this morning, before they come, he drawed off a kag of that, and being as it was pretty hard, poured in a couple of gallon of water, so's they wouldn't gettoocheered; and all day they been eating and drinking fit to burst, and then running out to shoot a while, and then filling up ag'in."
"Anybody wounded?" I asked.
"None so far."
Relieved beyond expression, I sank into a chair and gave thanks to God. A little later, Killis ran in the front door. "I never give them boys nary drap but cider," he said; "I done it to please you!"
I threw my arms around him; yes, I even wept.
"And I watered the cider, too," he continued; "them boys thinks they are drunk, and seeing a right Christmas, but they haint, but it does 'em just as much good!"
The other boys followed;—all mine but Nucky, the Salyers and the Atkinses were there, and some neighbor boys—piling up guns and pistols on the beds, and taking another round of pies and cider. Finding they were not at all abashed to see me, I accepted pressing invitations to spend the night, and we had a cheerful evening, with picking and singing, until Philip, who has been visiting a boy friend on Powderhorn, roused all my premonitions again by saying,
"I went up Trigger to fetch Trojan; but he couldn't come. He said Todd and Dalt had give it out they would certainly take the fence and grease their boots with Blant's brains before Christmas was over; and him and Rich was a-keeping lookout every minute."
All my fears leaped into being again instantly. If I could, I would have started for Trigger then and there. I cannot say how sinister the bright moonlight appeared to me as it streamed in through chinks in the logs during the night. This morning my panic seems excessive; still I am going to Trigger at once with Philip to guide me.
Let me try to tell, if I can do so, the tale of these dreadful twenty-four hours. We crossed over a high gap and down into the head-waters of Powderhorn, and thence to the mouth of Trigger. Just as we reached it, a man riding down looked intently at me. "You are one of them school-women, haint you?" he inquired. I recognized him as Saxby, Blant's neighbor who brought Nucky word of the election fight, and replied, "Yes."
"I seed you when I was over," he continued. "I allow by your being here you have heared the news from Trigger."
"What news?" I asked.
"Another engagement last night,—I hate to tell you the rest."
"What is it?" I demanded.
"Ever sence Blant defeated them at the fence a month gone, the Cheever boys has been dogging his footsteps in secret, trying to git him unbeknownst and unexpected. Though he haint seed hair nor hide of 'em, two or three times bullets has whizzed by him when he was doing chores round the house, or feeding the property. Of course he haint let the little chap, Nucky, know nothing about it, and has stayed in and laid low all he could, letting Rich tend to outside things for him. As Christmas come on, Todd and Dalt got so deep in liquor they couldn't keep their tongues from wagging, and they have bragged far and nigh that they would both take the fence and grease their boots with Blant's brains, before Christmas was over. So a' extry watch has been kept at both house and fence, and the little chap, Nucky, he has been hard at it. Last night when the full moon riz about seven, he was in the clump of spruce-pine on the p'int with his great-grandpaw's gun he allus packs around, when the whole b'iling of Cheevers, nine or ten, marched out to the fence. Just what happened, we haint got no means of knowing; but instid of obeying orders, and running to the house to tell Blant and Rich, like he ought, the boy he committed plumb suicide by opening fire on 'em from the tree. Of course before he could drap to the ground, seven or eight of 'em had blazed away in his direction; and when Blant and Rich heared the shots and come a-running, the little chap was a-laying limp and dead, and the Cheevers running round confused-like, carrying off one wounded. Blant he rushed on 'em like a robbed she-bear, routing 'em in no time,—Rich said such shooting never was seed on earth. I heared the noise acrost the branch where I live at, and come a-running. When we turnt the little chap over, we found he was bleeding from several flesh wounds, which we tied up; but then we also seed his skull was broke and stove in by another bullet, and knowed there wa'n't no hope. We tuck him to the house, and sot there all night keeping the death-watch, and looking for every breath to be his last."
Nucky lying unconscious on the ground underneath some fir trees. Rich and Blant stand with their weapons aimed at a group of Cheevers running away.“'Blant he rushed on 'em like a robbed she-bear, routing 'em in no time.'”
"Then he still does breathe?" I asked, fiercely.
"Yes, a little-grain; but he don't know nothing, and of course there haint no possible chance, with his skull broke. I'm a-riding now to inform his maw's kin down Powderhorn."
I laid the whip to Mandy, who, startled, sprang forward in a gallop. The twenty minutes before I reached the Marrs home seemed endless. I believed I had already suffered all that a woman could; but that was before I knew the love of a mother for her child.
I ran into the house, pushing away the people gathered there, and laid my hand on the bosom of the small body lying there so limp and still. The heart was beating, feebly but steadily, "He is not dead!" I cried, "and he shall not die!"
Blant, sitting crouched by the bed, head in hands, raised up and stared at me; Mr. Marrs lifted a bandage from Nucky's head, showing a wound from which a piece of bone protruded, and shook his head hopelessly.
"But the bullet can't have gone in, or he would have died instantly," I said; "it must have broken the skull and glanced off, leaving the bone pressing against the brain."
"Even so, nobody can't live with their skull broke," he replied.
"But they can,—they do! A broken skull may be lifted, trephined, by a good surgeon,—many a life is saved thus nowadays."
"Haint no surgeons in this country," said Mr. Marrs; "what few scattering doctors there is don't follow carving."
"But the new telephone!" I cried. "There is a telephone now from our village to the railroad,—we can get word to a surgeon in the Blue Grass in a few hours; by hard riding he can be here inside of two days. If we can only keep the child alive until then, his life may be saved!"
Blant sprang to his feet, hope transfiguring his haggard face. "Tell me what to do," he said.
"Saddle your best nag for Philip, and let him ride to the school and tell the nurse to telephone for the best surgeon in the state, and that we shall bring Nucky to the hospital to-night on a stretcher."
Philip dashed off, and the rest of us went to work to make a stretcher, with two poles and plenty of warm blankets. I know little about these matters, but I believed that the child could be taken easily and safely across the mountains, by relays of men, and that if I could once get him to the trained nurse she would manage to keep life in him.
Then Blant fed us; and about two o'clock we set forth down Trigger, Blant, Rich and two others bearing the stretcher, and four more young men going along to relieve them every half-hour.
As we went slowly down Trigger, we saw a crowd gathered at Israel Cheever's home, too. "Dalt is bad wounded by the little chap's rifle," said one of "Uncle Billy's boys", "I wisht it had been Todd."
When the stretcher changed hands, we carefully examined Nucky for any change in pulse or temperature. There was none.
Nearly six hours the march lasted,—the way was rough, the snow and ice made the footing uncertain, the evening hours before the moon rose were dark. At last we made the last turn, and came in sight of the school and the village beyond. Rich Tarrant then laid a hand on Blant's arm.
"Right here is where you take a back track, Blant," he said, firmly; "it haint sensible for you to walk right spang into the teeth of the sheriff and the jail,—you can't afford to lose no time that way, your family not being able to do without you."
"That's so," said Blant, "I plumb forgot. Seems like I can't stand to leave the little chap, though."
"You got it to do. He'll be took good care of. You follow the ridges back."
Blant laid a large, tender hand on Nucky's head, and without a word, turned and struck straight up the nearest mountain, Rich watching till he was out of sight.
"That boy certainly sees more than his fill of trouble," he sighed; "I wisht I could help him more,—I would glad lay down my life for him."
"You proved that last winter," I said, remembering the bullet he took in his breast.
"Oh, that wa'n't nothing at all," he deprecated.
Sure enough, when we reached the hospital, there in the crowd of people who had heard of our coming and gathered to meet us, was the sheriff.
And now Nucky is safe in the nurse's care, his wounds properly dressed, and all means being used to keep life in him, the surgeon is on the way, and if he can live until to-morrow, he may be saved. I can only watch and pray.
The best surgeon in the state arrived at noon yesterday, performed the trephining at once, and having done all that skill and science could, started back on his long horseback ride. Nucky continued in the deep sleep from which he might pass into either life or death. All afternoon, and into the night, we watched in vain for signs of returning consciousness. About ten, the door opened noiselessly, and Blant and Rich stepped in out of the night. Two hours later, Nucky's head began to move from side to side, and he moaned occasionally. A little past one, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Blant.
"They never got you, did they?" he asked, feebly.
"Who, son?"
"Todd and Dalt; they was fixing to layway you when I fired on them."
"Is that what made you disobey orders?" inquired Blant.
"Yes. The whole bunch of Cheevers come up to the fence, and started to throw down rails; and I was just about to drap down and fetch you the word, when I heared Todd tell the rest to make all the noise they could, so's to tole you out, and him and Dalt would hide in the trees and shoot you as you passed. And then they clim the fence and made for the very spruce-pines where I was at. I knowed I couldn't get away then to warn you, so I done my best to shoot 'em."
Blant's face darkened, but his voice was gentleness itself as he said, "You done wise, son; and you certainly hit your mark, too,—they was carrying off Dalt when I got down."
Nucky sighed, deeply, happily, closing his eyes.
After a while he opened them again to say, "I allow they shot me up a little too, by these here rags on my head."
Rich, Blant and Miss Loring are around Nucky's bed.“'I allow they shot me up a little too by these here rags on my head.'”
"Oh, a trifle, yes,—but none to hurt,—you wa'n't born to die by no Cheever lead."
"Gee, no," breathed Nucky, in quiet scorn.
"We brung you over here to the women, where you could get well sooner," continued Blant, in his gentle, reassuring voice; "and now since you are doing so fine, I reckon I'll leave you a spell and get along home,—the babe is punier than usual."
"Yes, I don't want you to stay here and get arrested," said Nucky; "but I don't want you to go back there neither. You keep a constant watch on Todd,—I wish it was him I had shot."
Rich and I followed Blant out. Not until we stood out in the snow did we wring one another's hands in speechless relief.
"Of course he will live now," I said.
To-day Nucky is entirely rational, though quite weak. Only the nurse sees him. Killis, Taulbee, Keats, Hosea and Joab came in for news of him to-day, returning immediately on their long walks.
I was permitted to visit Nucky to-day. He is still forbidden to talk, but he smiled his old bright smile, and I read Pilgrim's Progress to him until he fell asleep.
All the boys came back to school yesterday from their vacation, several with gifts for me,—a dozen eggs from the little Salyers, a fine ground-hog-hide from Joab ("it'll make you shoe-strings enough to last a lifetime," he said), a handsome hen from Taulbee, four huge sweet-potatoes from Hosea, and an elegant green glass breastpin from Geordie. Of course the one topic of conversation last night was "Trojan" and his performance, in which they take endless pride. "I allow Basil Beaumont will sure make up a song-ballad about him now," said Absalom.
They also brought the news that Dalt Cheever is probably "aiming to live",—thank heaven if it is true, for I cannot bear that Nucky's hands should be stained with human blood. Doubtless, however, it will be a keen disappointment to him.
As I was about to leave the cottage for the hospital last night after supper, the boys were all bewailing the fact that they had not been able to stay at home over Old Christmas. I asked them what they meant by "Old Christmas."
"You brought-on women," said Taulbee, "thinks New Christmas is real Christmas; but it haint. Real Christmas comes to-morrow, on the sixth of January; and to-night is right Christmas Eve."
"What makes you think so?"
"All the old folks says so, for one thing, and they knows better than young ones; and the plants and the beasts knows better still. Tonight's the night when the elder blossoms out at midnight, and the cattle kneels down and prays,—anybody can hear 'em a-lowing and mowing if they stay awake to listen."
I have a hazy recollection of the English calendar having been changed and set forward eleven days in the middle of the eighteenth century, and of the mass of the people in England and the colonies refusing to accept the new date for Christmas. This survival in the mountain country is indeed remarkable.
I sat keeping watch beside Nucky when the clock struck midnight, and got up and went to the window to look and listen. If, in the wintry moonlight, any gaunt, bare stalks put forth miraculous blossoms above the snow, or if reverent cattle knelt and lowed loving welcome to their Lord, my eyes and ears were holden that I did not see and hear; but I know that it was Real Christmas in my heart as I turned back and saw my child breathing quietly on his bed, a faint color in his pale cheeks again.
Another visit from Blant to Nucky last night. In reply to eager questions, Blant gave Nucky a very encouraging account of the state of affairs on Trigger. "Never seed things quieter," he said; "it looks like your shot had settled 'em a while. The talk now is that Dalt will likely get well, which I allow you will grieve to hear." A shade of heavy disappointment immediately fell upon Nucky's countenance. "But," continued Blant, "it is good news to me,—I don't like the notion of your having to start in killing at your age."
After we were out on the porch, Blant repeated to me, "Yes, I am proud to know the little chap haint got blood on his hands yet awhile. You may think it quare, but it really goes again' the grain with me to see a man kilt, even when he needs killing."
"Is it true," I questioned him as he stepped out into the snow, "that things are so quiet on Trigger?"
He smiled slightly. "Oh yes," he said; "quiet enough,—in fact, they are quiet as death,—not a speck of trouble in plain sight nowhere. But I got a bullet through my hat Friday night as I crossed the passage from the kitchen to t'other house, and heared another whiz nigh while I watered the nags yesterday evening. It all happens along towards dark."
"This is horrible," I said.
"Yes, it's low-down. Folks ought to fight in the open if they got any fighting to do."
"Is Richard staying with you?"
"Day and night. I allow he's setting with the babe this minute. All I'm afeared of is that they will shoot him in place of me. But we keep all the windows blanketed and chinks stopped of a night."
Ever since Philip's return he has been scratching himself in the most annoying manner. Before I started for the hospital to-night, he came into my room, clawing viciously at his ankles. "Gimme something for the eech," he said.
"For what?" I asked.
"For the eech,—I knowed I'd ketch it when I seed Dewey Lovel pawing round so them nights I spent with him."
"Do you mean the itch?" I inquired, sharply.
"No, I mean the eech,—the seven-year-eech I reckon this is, by the way it feels."
"I have no idea what to do for such a disease as the itch!" I replied, helplessly.
Philip danced on one foot, clawing his arms now. "'Itch',—listen at that now, boys,—she calls the eech the itch,—don't know no better,—ha! ha!"
"What do people do for it?" I asked.
"Some rubs on lard-and-sulphur; and some axle-grease."
"I'll ask the nurse for medicine,—go along now, please,—don'tstand so near me!"
"Get enough for three," was his parting remark, "Taulbee and Hose is beginning to scratch too!"
Yes, get enough for a dozen, he had better say!
This afternoon bows and spikes (arrows) became violently the fashion. All the boys went up the mountain side to get hickory limbs for bows, and arrowwood for "spikes". But from Geordie alone can be bought the horse-shoe nails (Hosea's before popgun time) which, when hammered flat at the head, shaped around a nail, and then fitted on the end of a spike, make a truly dangerous and desirable weapon. These nails are held at five cents apiece; but when the buyer has no money, as usually happens, the set of marbles received in his Christmas stocking is acceptable. As Keats says, what good are "marvles" anyway, with the ground either snow or slush all the time?
My fears are verified. Every boy on the place is scratching; and I too have an irresistible impulse in that direction.
All my family in quarantine with the itch, and I myself experiencing all the agonies. I think it is King James who says, "The Itch is a disease well worth the having, for the satisfaction afforded by scratching"; but I am forced to dissent from the royal opinion. And the cure,—the being swathed for days in lard-and-sulphur—is almost as bad as the disease. Worst of all is the thought that for a week I shall not see Nucky.
The boys and I were released from quarantine to-day, and I ran to the hospital the first thing. Nucky looks much better, and is gaining strength at a normal rate. He is much troubled, however, because Blant has not been to see him again. "I know things is wrong on Trigger,—I am afeared Todd is at his devilment again," he said.
I left after promising to spend the afternoon with him, and went with the other boys to church. Geordie and Hosea were late dressing, and were left to follow. What was my astonishment, when they did walk in, to see Geordie wearing Hosea's fine new overcoat he brought from home after Christmas,—a coat spun, dyed, woven and made by his mother. Hosea wore the shiny, too-large one which we had given Geordie from the barrels. During service Geordie, with hair plastered down and eyes on the ceiling, sang hymns more loudly than ever.
"Why do you wear Hosea's overcoat?" I demanded, as soon as we were out in the road.
"Him and me's swapped," he replied, carefully avoiding the word "traded"; "I never wanted to do it, did I, Hose?"
"Why was it done, then,—you seem to have decidedly the best of the bargain."
"You haint seed the boot he got," replied Geordie, calmly. "Show her that 'ere watch and chain, Hose."
Hosea drew from his pocket a battered nickel watch, which Geordie held toward me with the air of a connoisseur. "That 'ere's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch," he said; "I got it a-Christmas on Bald Eagle, off of Johnny Miles, that just come home from the Penitentiary."
"Did you pay him that much for it?"
"No'm,—he was offering it around for that,—I got it a little-grain cheaper."
"How much cheaper?"
"Well, I paid him forty cents spot-cash for it,—he was a-needing money."
"And you call that a fair trade,—your old worn coat and a forty-cent watch for his nice new coat his mother made?"
"It's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch, Miss Loring," Geordie repeated, patiently: "And, been in the Penitentiary!"
This failing to enhance its value in my eyes, he added, "And that haint all,—just cast your eye on that chain!"
The chain was a flimsy affair of two brass wires, on which were strung at intervals three battered objects which I at last recognized as dice. "Them 'ere," said Geordie impressively, "is able to make a living for a man all by theirselves. I seed Johnny Miles make a dollar'n' a quarter in five minutes, a-flingin' 'em. And when Hose heared about it, he said he were bound to have 'em. And thaint nary nother boy on Perilous I'd a-lethave 'em; but Hose he's such agoodboy, and so peaceable, and never does no meanness, and allus minds you, and knows his books, and gits up in time of a morning, I felt like Ioughtto prosper him if I could. So I told him all right, to take them dice and buy him a hundred overcoats if he wanted!"
"How did you come to part with them if they are so valuable?"
"Oh, I got t'other set Johnny sold me," replied Geordie, comfortably, "I aim to quit trading now, like you want,—yes, I give you my hand I haint going to trade nary nother time! And I writ maw last night I seed my way clear now to come to Virginia this summer, and see her and the world, and ride on the railroad train!"
These rosy anticipations were cruelly shattered. "Give me those dice at once," I said, "You and Hosea may not know that throwing dice is gambling, and that gambling of any kind is strictly forbidden in this school. Trade back those overcoats at once. And never again let me hear of your associating with Johnny Miles!"
Terrible news indeed from Trigger. On my way to the garden after school this afternoon, I saw all the boys running toward the front fence, where a man on a nag was talking and gesticulating. I recognized Blant's neighbor Saxby, who had brought bad news before. When I reached the fence he began his tale all over again.
During the two weeks since Blant's last visit here, it appears that Todd Cheever has continued to haunt the Marrs premises at night, lurking in dark places, and making further attempts to shoot Blant. The strain of the constant watchfulness has been great for both Blant and Rich,—indeed, the feeling that one is being watched from the darkness by the eyes of hate is probably the most terrible one a human being can know.
Blant's nervousness has been augmented by the fact that for three days handrunning he has had visions which have filled him with fear for Rich. Monday while they were together "snaking" logs down the mountain side, he suddenly saw Rich standing beside him headless,—a second glance showed him Rich fastening a log-chain thirty feet distant. Tuesday morning he beheld the headless shade at his elbow, while Rich was on the far side of a fodder-stack from him; and about noon, the same dreadful apparition started up beside him as he lifted a skillet of meat from the fire, Rich being at the time on his way to catch a brief glimpse of his people at home. Blant was in an agony until Rich returned safely about four o'clock; then he told him of the warnings he had had, and implored him to be exceedingly wary and careful, Rich being quite amused at his earnestness.
After supper they were all gathered as usual about the fire, Blant holding the babe, when there was a halloo from the road. "Don't pay no attention to it," said Rich, "it's likely Todd, trying to tole you out." But the call sounded again, in an unmistakably strange voice, and, handing the babe to his father, Blant started for the door. Rich sprang ahead of him. "If anybody goes, it'll be me," he said. Blant forcibly put him back. "You don't set foot outside this house to-night," he declared, "not after the visions I have seed." Then, taking his forty-five from his pocket, he passed out of the door and into the open passageway.
"I want to inquire how much further on it is to Billy Marrs's," called the strange voice from the road.
"Something over a mile," replied Blant.
At the same instant, as Blant had probably anticipated, a man dashed into the passage from the rear, firing, closely followed by a second, also firing. Conjecturing at once that Todd had hired some stranger to call him out, in order that he and a confederate might attack him, Blant took instant deadly aim at both the men. The first—Todd—fell face forward into the light from the doorway; the second, with the cry, "It's me, Blant," also staggered forward a few steps, and Blant caught the dying Rich in his arms. Guessing Todd's whereabouts, Rich, disobeying commands, had jumped from the window to attack him from the rear, and had thoughtlessly exposed himself to Blant's deadly aim.