AFEW days later Hoag was walking home from his cotton-gin. It was near noon. It had been cool and cloudy all the morning, and the humid air was laden with a hovering mist which at every moment seemed about to resolve itself into rain. Suddenly, in a thicket at the side of the road, he saw a man with his back toward him. The gaunt form resembled Sid Trawley's, yet the queer antics of the hatless figure belied such an association, for it was bending down and rising up with inexplicable regularity. Hoag paused and watched in growing wonder. It was plain that the man's contortions were not due to the lifting of any tool, for every few seconds a pair of bare, splaying hands would rise above the head, clutch at the air, and slowly descend.
“What the hell ails 'im?” Hoag asked himself, and turning into the thicket he approached the animated automaton. It was Trawley. On seeing Hoag he flushed deeply, dropped his gaze awkwardly to the ground, and stood silent, though smiling in a sheepish way.
“Look here, are you gone plumb distracted?” Hoag demanded, as he stood eying his old associate from head to foot.
“I reckon you might call it that,” Trawley answered, raising his arms above his head and inhaling a deep breath. “A heap o' things look plumb foolish if you ain't onto the scientific explanation.”
“Well,” Hoag tittered, “I can't see no sense in a big strappin' feller like you actin' like a jumpin'-jack pullin' it's own string away out here in the woods all by yourself.”
Trawley threw back his broad shoulders, took a shorter breath, and answered: “I railly didn't intend to be seen, Jim, much less by you, who never would believe nothin' outside o' your own hide. I've been doin' this thing for a month or more.”
“You say you have!” Hoag exhibited one of his rare tendencies toward a smile. “I see whar you've pawed up the grass considerable. It looks like the ground round the hitchin'-post of a prize stallion.”
“I reckon Ihavecome here as much as anywhar else.” The liveryman comically surveyed the spot in question. “I git the walk out, an' I like to operate in the same spot. I can time myself, you see. I give a' hour to it twice a day—momin' an evenin'.”
“You say you do!” Hoag's smile broke broadly. “Workin' for yourself or hired out?”
“I knowed you'd joke,” Trawley said, half abashed, “but no joke o' your'n, Jim Hoag, will turn me from a thing as good as this is. I've been led by your sort long enough. Thar are things in heaven an' earth, Jimmy, that you never even saw the tail-end of, much less the head an' shoulders. I know, for I'm just beginnin' to catch onto a powerful big thing.”
“The last time I saw you,” Hoag said, with a smile, “you swore you was goin' to lie flat down an' die.”
“Yes, that's it; I did say it, an' I was as sure of it as I am that you are a-standin' thar pokin' fun right now. Jim, I was on the actual edge o' hell. I could see the smoke, smell the fumes, an' hear the smashin' o' teeth, mentioned in Scripture. You used to see me at work in the stable, but you never seed me after the sun went down an' the night piled thick and heavy around me. I was crazy. I expected to die right off, an' the trouble was that I wasn't ready. Then what do you reckon happened?”
“I was just wonderin'.” Hoag really was interested, and he stood staring seriously, all traces of humor submerged in curiosity.
“Well, I was at my lowest ebb one day. The doctor had examined me ag'in an' said I had no stomach that would hold a bite I ate, an' no relish for a thing, even softbabytruck. I was losin' weight as fast as a dump-cart o' manure with a plank gone from the bottom, an' I went to the stable an' set down to try to reconcile myself to the fate that all men has to meet sooner or later, but I couldn't. The more I thought about it the worse I got. Jim, in that little hour thar in my office, humped over my desk, I attended over ag'in every funeral I ever went to, an', more'n that, I seed every pore cuss our gang ever lynched a-hangin' from the rafters above the backs o' my hosses an' mules. I'd 'a' killed myself, but I knowed I'd just be hurried to judgment all the quicker, an' thar I was actually wallowin' in my despair. Then a miracle happened.”
“Oh, itdid?I thought that might be a-comin',” Hoag sneered, “for you wasn't wallowin' in anything like that when I catched you a minute ago.”
“You'll say I'm a big fool,” Trawley went on, with the glow of a mild fanatic in his eyes; “but I don't give a damn. The proof of the puddin' is chawin' the rag, I've always heard. Right at my worst minute, who should walk in an' set down for a chat except Paul Rundel? I always liked that boy, an' when he come home to give 'imself up like he did I was one that believed he meant what he said. I'm convinced of it now, because he's livin' up to his doctrine. Well, one thing fetched on another as me'n him talked, till somehow I got to tellin' him how low I was an' what the doctor said. I thought he'd be sorry for me, but he shuck his head an' actually laughed. He tuck my wrist, he did, an' felt my pulse, an' then he peeled my eyes back an' looked at the balls, an' made me show him my tongue; then he slapped me on the knee—careless like—an' laughed free an' hearty.
“'Thar ain't nothin' much the matter with you, Sid,' he said. I know, because I've run across lots an' lots o' cases like your'n.' Then he plunged into the sensiblest talk—well, Cap—Jim, I mean—'scuse me, I never heard anything to equal it in all my born days. It was like a rousin' sermon preached by a jolly base-ball player, or a feller that just got the meat out of religion an' throwed the gristle to the dogs. Why, he told me that what ailed me couldn't be reached by any dose o' medicine that ever slid down a throat. He said he'd bet his hat that I had some'n on my mind that ought to be unloaded. I sort o' shied off thar, but he went into all his own trouble over that shootin'-scrape in such a free an' open way that I—”
“You didn't—you didn't violate your oath to—” Hoag started, and his shaggy brows met suspiciously.
“No, an' I didn't have to. He said—Paul said—totin' sin that was behind you an' ought to be forgot was as rank a poison to some systems as any virus that ever crawled through the blood, an' I admitted that I was bothered by some things I'd done that I didn't want to talk about. But, oh my! how good that boy made me feel! He said if I would just quit thinkin' about my stomach an' what went into it, an' keep my mind full o' pure thoughts, determine to act right in the future, an' take exercise in the open air, that I'd git as sound as a dollar right off.”
“Oh, I see.” Hoag smiled more easily. “An' you took his advice. Well, he ain't so far wrong. Believin' you are done for is powerful weakenin'. I seed a bedrid old hag once jump out o' bed when somebody yelled that a mad dog was headed toward her cabin. She broke out with nothin' on but a shift an' one stockin' an' run half a mile, waded through a creek, an' climbed a ten-rail fence to git to a neighbor's house, an' after that she was hale an' hearty.”
“It's a sight deeper science than that when you work it accordin' to up-to-date rules an' regulations,” Trawley blandly explained. “The furder you advance in it the more you seem to lay hold of. You seed me bendin' up an' down just now. Exercise like that, 'long with deep breathin', an' the idea that you are, so to speak, pullin' good thoughts an' intentions into you along with the wind, will do more than ten wholesale drug-stores. I know, for I am actually a new man, from toe to scalp. I don't eat nothin' now but ham. Look at my muscles.” Trawley exhibited an arm tightly contracted and smiled proudly. “Why, I was ready for my windin'-sheet an' the coolin'-board. If I had to give up my stable, an' every hoss an' rig I have, or let go of this idea, I'd do it an' work like a nigger in a ditch for bare bread an' water. Paul calls it 'the Science of Life,' an' he's right. In our talk that day he said that it would be well to try, as far as I could, to undo any wrong I'd ever done, an' soon after that I saw Pete Watson's widow passin' the stable. I'll swear she did look pitiful in her old raggety shoes with the toes out, totterin' along with her kinky head down. Well, I called 'er in an' had a talk—”
“An' give us all dead away!” Hoag flashed in renewed fear.
“No, I didn't. She was in a powerful bad fix, an' I let 'er have a few dollars an' told 'er to look me up any time she was rail bad off. Lordy! the sight o' that old thing's face did me good for a week. I'm goin' to hire one o' her sons to work in the stable. I reckon I'd be a freer man if I wasn't sorter obligated to you boys; but I tell you now, Jim, I'm goin' to drag my skirts away from you all as much as possible. All that secret-order business an' followin' your lead got me down. Paul says, in all the places he's been at, he never has seed as bad a condition of affairs as we got right here. He says—an' I don't know whether he suspicioned that I was implicated or not—but he says that all that night-prowlin', an' scarin' half-witted niggers an' stringin' 'em up to limbs, won't settle our trouble. He says that we've got to be gentle with the blacks an' train 'em. He says the old slaveholders was kind to 'em, an' that's why no outrages was ever heard of before slavery was abolished, an' he says treatin' the niggers decent now will—”
“He's a fool!” Hoag growled, angrily. “He's gone off an' lived among a lot o' Yankees who think niggers are a grade better'n us white folks down here. They don't know nigger-nature, an'hedon't, neither, but I'll tell you one thing: he'd better keep his mouth shet, an' you—you can quit us if you want to, but you'd better not make too many brags about it.”
“I'm not braggin'now,” Trawley retorted. “A feller can't well brag about what he is ashamed of, an' Jim, I'm heartily ashamed of all that business. Lord, Lord! you called me 'Lieutenant', an' I remember how proud I was of the title the night you give it to me an' the boys all cheered. 'Lieutenant!' I say, 'Lieutenant!' I hope to git to Heaven some day or other, an' wouldn't I love to hear 'em call me that up thar among the Blest, an' ax how I had got my promotion?”
“I see through you, Sid.” Hoag was nettled, and yet trying to speak in a tone of unconcern, which in part was natural. “Thar's more'n one way o' showin' the white feather. You was all right as long as you felt well an' strong, but the minute you begun to think about dyin' you went all to pieces. That's how every little jack-leg preacher makes his salary, by scarin' your sort out o' their socks.”
“You are away off your base.” Trawley stretched himself, raised his arms, after the manner of his health exercise, lowered them to his sides, and smiled confidently. “Paul Rundel ain't no jack-leg preacher, presidin' elder, or bishop. He's movin' along mixin' business with joy as smooth as deep water headed for the ocean. He don't charge a cent; in fact, when he talks it looks like he does it because he can't hold in. He says religion don't mean givin' up the good things of the flesh or the spirit; he says it just means knowin' how to live, an'—livin''. Why, look at your son Henry.”
“What's he done now?” Hoag's eyes flickered ominously, as they bent upon Trawley's impassioned countenance.
“Why, nothin', except he's workin' like a wheel-hoss an' Paul started 'im by a few straight talks on the right line an' havin' faith in 'im. Jim Hoag, I've set in to live right, an' I'm goin' to keep it up.”
“Lemme tell you some'n, Sid,” Hoag returned, dryly. “I've noticed that whenever a man is plumb played out—cayn't hold his own among men, loses his little pile, is hopelessly disgraced, or somebody dies that he thinks he has to keep—why, he goes daft about the wings he's goin' to wear an' the harp he's to play in a land flowin' with milk an' honey. Since the world begun to roll, not a word has come back from the spider-web place they all talk about, an' the feller that believes in it is simply dyin' of the dry-rot. All that a human bein' will ever git he'll git here on this globe. I've made what I've got by hard licks, common sense, an' paddlin' my own boat. A feller that sees a lot o' jimjam visions ahead never will buck down to real life here, an' he'll never lay up a dollar or own a foot of land. Wise men knowed all this long before Jesus Christ come teachin' that the only way to accumulate was to give away all you git, make a two-sided foot-mat o' your face, an' associate with fishermen that want to learn how to walk on the water.”
“Say, say, Jim, that's purty tough!” Trawley protested. But with a smile of conscious victory Hoag was starting away.
“Take some more deep breaths,” he chuckled over his shoulder, “an' while you are drawin' in truth suck down what I've just said. I kinprovewhat I'm talkin' about, but you can't prove that any sane man everdreamtthe stuff you are tryin' to believe.”
Trawley stood still on the spot he had rendered grassless by his modern devotions, and stared after the receding form. “I'll bet it will take me a week to git away from that durn fellow's influence,” he muttered. “He believes what he says, an' lives up—ordown, rather—to his doctrine, but he's kept me crooked long enough. He was my god once, with all his power an' money, but he ain't no longer. I said a week—shucks! I'm free already. That sky up thar's mine, or will be if I keep on, an' it's got no fence around it nuther.” Trawley inhaled a deep breath, bent downward, slowly raised himself, and with a light step started home.
“I've got a sight better thing than he has,” he continued to think of Hoag, “but it wouldn't be right to gloat over 'im. The idea is to wish well toall—his sort along with the rest.”
ONE clear, warm evening Hoag rode along the side of the mountain. The sun had been down for an hour, and the valley lay beneath the soft folds of a twilight which, ever creeping from west to east, seemed gradually to thicken under the increasing rays of the constantly appearing stars. He saw the village lights, and from their locations knew where the main buildings stood—the hotel, the post-office, and the wagon-yard, marked by the red glow of the camp-fires. He could see, also, his own home at the end of the road up which he had ascended.
The incline was growing steeper and his horse was stepping cautiously, and shying here and there at real or fancied objects in the underbrush on each side of the densely shaded road. Presently a point was reached where the horse could not well advance further, and the rider dismounted, hitched his rein to a bush, and, on foot, took a narrow path which led down a steep incline into a canon of considerable depth and breadth. Finally gaining a sort of level at the bottom, he trudged on into a labyrinthian maze of brambles, lichen-coated boulders, and thorn-bushes, headed for a specter-like cliff which, now and then, loomed in the starlight.
Presently a firm cry of “Halt there!” greeted him, and a tall, lank form, topped by a mask of white cloth with jagged eye and mouth openings, stood in front of him.
“Halt yoreself, Joe Purvynes!” Hoag answered, facetiously.
“Halt, I say! That won't do,” and the figure raised a long-barreled gun and threateningly presented it. “What's the password?”
“Hold on, hold on!” Hoag laughed uneasily. “It's me, Joe!”
“Me! I don't know no me's in this business. You give me the proper password or I'll plug you full o'—”
“A white man's country,” Hoag hurriedly complied. “Thar, I reckon that will suit you.”
“Good Lord, Cap! I swear I didn't know you,” the sentinel exclaimed apologetically. “By gum, I come 'in an inch o' givin' the signal to the boys up thar to lie low. It ain't for me to dictate to you, but you ought to obey regulations yourself if you expect the rest to keep order. Cap, this ain't no jokin' business; we've got to be careful.”
“I thought you'd know my voice.” Hoag fended the matter of! with an impatient gesture and an audible sniff. “The klan arrived yet?”
“Yes, up thar in the open; some of 'em got here at sundown. Never seed 'em so eager before. They've got some game up their sleeves. I may as well tell you. You are goin' to have trouble with 'em, Cap.”
“Trouble? What do you mean?”
“I don't know as I've got any ground to say it”—the sentinel leaned on his gun and lifted the lower part of his mask, that he might speak more freely—“but it's the young members, Cap. They ain't satisfied with bein' inactive so long. They say us older, men are takin' the dry-rot, an' won't git out at night because we want to lie in bed an' snooze.” Hoag swore under his breath. He reflected a moment in silence; then he asked, “Who's the ringleader?”
“Hard to say, Cap; they are all a-talkin'. Thar's a dozen or more, but Nape Welborne is the worst. I may as well tell you the truth. They are ag'in' you; they are bent on creatin' dissatisfaction—bustin' up the old order an' startin' out ag'in, as they say, with new blood. They've got some fresh devilment to propose to-night, an' if you don't fall in line double-quick they are a-goin' to move to elect a new captain.”
“I see, I see.” Hoag felt his blood rush in an angry torrent to his head. “They are mad because I didn't favor breakin' in the jail last meetin' to take out Mart Dill. He's Nape's uncle, you know. I was plumb right about that, Purvynes. Mart paid his fine an' is free now, anyway.”
“I understand, Cap, but it made a lot of 'em mad. Of course I don't know, but they say you had some grudge ag'in' Mart, an' that's why you refused to act. They've got liquor in 'em to-night up to the neck, an' you'll have to handle 'em easy or we'll bust into flinders.”
“I'll break their necks, damn them!” Hoag turned to go on. “They can't run over me roughshod. I've been at the head o' this band too long for that.”
“Well, I've give you my opinion, Cap,” Purvynes said, more coldly. “I hope you'll try to keep down a split. Some'n seems goin' crooked, anyway. Sid Trawley's talkin' a lot—gone daffy an' turned into a regular preacher. I know a half-dozen old uns he's kept home to-night, an' Nape Welborne is goin' to make trouble. He hates the ground you walk on. Thar's no ifs and ands about that.”
Farther along, at the base of the almost perpendicular cliff, Hoag found fifty or sixty men waiting for him. Some lay smoking on the grass, others hung about in various restless attitudes, and a group of ten or twelve of the younger men sat eating tinned oysters and sardines with crackers, and drinking whisky from huge flasks which stood on the ground in their midst.
A man on the edge of the assembly recognized the leader, and saluting respectfully, called out, “Boys, rise; the Captain is here!”
Thereupon a formality took place which to Hoag had always been a subtle delight. Those standing removed their hats, and all who were seated struggled to their feet and stood silent and uncovered.
“How are you, boys?” That constituted Hoag's usual greeting, and then every one sat down, and for a moment silence ensued. There was a fallen log on the border of the assemblage, and upon this the leader sat as if upon a judicial bench. He put his hat on the grass at his feet and folded his hands between his knees. There was a low tinkle of a knife-blade gouging out potted ham from a jagged tin, and Hoag drew himself erect and frowned.
“Let up on that eatin' thar!” he said, testily. “One thing at a time. I've had a hard ride to git up here, an' I'll be treated with proper respect or—”
“You be damned!” a low voice muttered, and a soft titter of startled approval rose in the group of younger men and slowly died in the consternation which' Hoag's fierce attitude seemed to set afloat upon the air.
“Who said that?” he sharply demanded, and he half rose to his feet and leaned forward in a threatening attitude.
There was no response. Hoag, standing fully erect now, repeated his question, but the surly demand elicited only a repetition of the tittering and a low, defiant groan.
Hoag slowly and reluctantly resumed his seat. “I'm goin' to have order an' obedience,” he growled. “That's what I'm here for, an' anybody that wants trouble can git it. This ismea-talkin'.”
The silence was unbroken now and, somewhat mollified, Hoag proceeded to the business of the night. “Mr. Secretary,” he said, “call the roll, an' make careful note of absentees an' impose fines.”
A man holding a bit of lighted candle and a sheet of paper stood up and went through this formality.
“How many missin'?” Hoag inquired, when the roll-call was over and the candle extinguished.
“Seven, not countin' Sid Trawley,” was the response.
“Cold feet—seven more beyond the age-limit!” a wag in the younger group was heard to say in a maudlin and yet defiant tone.
“Order thar!” Hoag commanded in a stentorian voice.
“Gone to nigger prayer-meetin',” another boldly muttered, and Hoag stamped his foot and called for order again. “What have we got before the body?” he inquired, in agreement with his best idea of parliamentary form. “Do I hear any proposals?”
There was a short pause, then a young man in the noisy group rose. It was Nape Welborne. His mouth was full of the dry crackers he was munching, and little powdery puffs shot from his lips when he began to speak.
“Worshipful Knight, an' gentlemen of the Klan,” he began, with an obvious sneer. “I've been asked to say a few words to-night. Considerable dissatisfaction has got up in our body. Things has been proposed that in common decency ought to have gone through, an' they've been put under the table an' nothin' done. The general opinion is that this has come to be a one-man gang.”
“Everything's been put to a vote,” Hoag retorted, with startled and yet blunt dignity.
Grunts and sniffs of contempt ran through the group of younger men, and when the Captain had secured, order Welborne resumed. It was plain that he was making no effort to disguise his rancor.
“Yes, they was snowed under after ourworshipful leadershowed that he wasn't in for action, an' the men wouldn't move without an authorized head.”
“That's no way to put it,” Hoag retorted. “As your leader I had to say what I thought was wisest an' best. I always have done it, an' heard nothin' ag'in' it till now.”
“Because you used to have alittlemore red blood in your veins than you got now, an' that's sayin' powerful little.” The speaker's eyes bore down upon the upturned faces, and was greeted by a loud clapping of hands and boisterous exclamations of agreement.
Hoag was white with helpless fury. “You mean to say—damn you—” he began, only to lapse into cautious silence, for there was something in the staring tenseness of the speaker and his crouching supporters which was ominous of a storm that was ready to break.
“Be careful, Cap!” It was the voice of Purvynes close behind him, and the sentinel leaned downward on his gun to finish: “They are drunk an' have got it in for you. They are bent on devilin' you tonight an' forcin' an issue. Look sharp!”
Welborne had drawn himself up and was silent. Hoag nodded despairingly at the man behind him and said: “Go on with your proposition, Brother Welborne. What is it you want?”
Welborne laughed out impulsively. “I see we are gettin' to be kin folks. Well, to come down to hard-pan an' brass tacks, Worshipful Knight, King o' the Mossbacks, I am empowered to say that—”
“That he's got cold feet!” a merry voice broke in with an irrepressible giggle.
At this Hoag sprang up, but hearing Purvynes' startled warning behind him, and realizing what open resentment on his part would mean, he stood unsteadily for an instant and then sank down.
“Go on!” he said, desperately. “We'll hear you out.”
“I wasn't goin' to use them nasty wordsmyself,” the speaker smiled down into the beardless face from which they had issued, “for it wouldn't be becomin' on an occasion like this. Cold feet don't seem to fill the bill exactly, nohow. A man may have a cold pair when his judgment is ag'in' some move or other. The thing some of us new members find ourselves up against in our leader is rankcowardice, an' plenty of it.”
“Cowardice!” Hoag allowed his rigid lips to echo.
“That's the word,” the speaker stared fixedly, as low murmurs of approval swept through the immediate group around him and permeated the borders of the crowd in general.
“Explain yourself.” Hoag was conscious of fighting for some expedient of rescue under the shadow of toppling defeat.
“Oh, well, our boys have made up their minds that you are plumb without any sort o' real grit,” Welborne said, firmly. “You seem to be one solid bluff from beginnin' to end. We could cite half a dozen cases, not to mention the two times that Jeff Warren made you eat dirt an' lick the soles of his boots.”
“It's a lie!” Hoag floundered, recklessly. “A low, dirty lie!”
Welborne stepped out from the group and advanced half-way to the captain. “That's what I've been hopin' you'd git to,” he said, calmly. “I suppose you meanme. Now, rise from that log, Hoag, an' prove whether you got any backbone or not. You are not only a liar, but a low-lived coward in the bargain!”
Dead silence fell. Hoag was well aware that his power was gone—his throne had crumbled under his feet, for he saw the utter futility of fighting the young giant before him, and he knew that many of his supporters would regard it as inevitable.
“I didn't sayyouwas a liar. I said—”
“But I say you are worse than that,” Welborne snarled, “and you've got to set thar before us all an' chaw my statement an' gulp it down.”
“You fellows have laid a trap for me,” Hoag muttered, desperately. He glanced around at the older men. How strange it was that no word of rebuke came from even the wisest of them! Surely they didn't believe the charge of this wild young drunkard after all those years in which he had led them, and had their homage and respect.
“I see you don't mean to defend yourself,” Welborne went on, glancing around at the gathering, “an' that's proof enough of what I say. You've held your post not because you was a brave man, Jim Hoag, but because you had money that some men are low enough to bow before; but us young men in these mountains will have a leader with sand in his craw, or none at all.” The speaker paused, and his fellows stood up around him. There was a warm shaking of hands, a rising clamor of approval, and this spread even to the older men, who were excitedly talking in low tones.
“Come on, boys, let's go home!” Welborne proposed. “We'll have that meetin' to-morrow night, an' we'lldothings. Next time a good man gits in jail no low-lived skunk will keep him thar!”
“Good, good!” several voices exclaimed. The entire assemblage was on its feet. Hoag rose as if to demand order, but the purpose was drowned in the flood of dismay within him. He saw Welborne and his friends moving away. They were followed by others more or less slowly, who threw awkward backward glances at him. Presently only Purvynes and he remained.
The sentinel leaned on the barrel of his gun and chewed his tobacco slowly.
“I seed this thing a-comin' a long time back.” He spat deliberately, aiming at a stone at his feet. “They've talked too much behind your back to be true to your face. I can say it now, I reckon, for I reckon you want to understand the thing. Do you, or do you not?”
“Well, I don't know what to make of it,” Hoag said, with the lips of a corpse, the eyes of a dying man. “I simply don't!”
“Well, it's this a way,” Purvynes explained, with as much tact as he could command. “Welborne didn't tell it all. What really has rankled for a long time was that—theysay, you understand—that you just kept this thing a-goin' for a sort o' hobby to ride on when you ain't off in Atlanta havin' a good time. They claim that you just love to set back an' give orders, an' preside like a judge an' be bowed an' scraped to. They say that, here of late, you hain't seemed to be alive to home interests or present issues. They claim the niggers are gittin' unbearable all around, an' that you are afraid they will rise an' burn some o' your property. They say you don't care how much the niggers insult white folks, an' that you'd rather see a decent farmer's wife scared by a black imp than lose one o' your warehouses or mills. They are goin' to reorganize to-morrow night. An' listen to me, Jim—” Hoag heard the man address him for the first time by his Christian name—“they are goin' to raise hell. An' that's whar you an' me come in.”
“Wharwecome in? You don't think they would dare to—to—” Hoag began tremulously, and ended in rising dismay.
“Oh, I don't mean they would actually mob you or me or any o' the old klan, but whatever they do will be laid at our door because we've been in the thing so long. The truth is, Jim, you trained them fellers to be what they are; they are jest sparks off of your flint. I reckon if Nape Welborne knowed how I looked at it he'd sayIhad cold feet, for I've been doin' a sight o' thinkin' lately. I've heard Paul Rundel talk on this line.”
“You say you have! He's a fool.”
“I don't know 'bout that; if he ain't got it down about right, nobody has. I heard him talkin' to a crowd one day at the flour-mill. He ain't afraid o' man nor beast. Everybody knows that. Nape Welborne chipped in once, but Paul settled 'im, an' Nape was ashamed to argue any longer. Paul says we are in an awful fix. He prophesied then that we'd turn ag'in' our own race an' we are a-doin' it. You yourself have made enemies among the very men that used to follow you, an' the Lord only knows whar it will end.”
Hoag stifled a groan and struggled to his feet. His legs felt stiff and heavy from inactivity. He stood staring out into the void above the tree-tops. The rocky fastness immediately around was as still as if the spot were aloof from time and space—so still, indeed, that a pebble of the disintegrating cliff being released by the eternal law of change rattled from summit to base quite audibly. From down the mountain-side came boisterous singing. It was Welborne and his supporters.
“D'you hear that?” Purvynes asked, as, gun under arm, he got ready to walk on with his companion.
“Hear what?” Hoag roused himself as from a confused dream.
“Them young devils!” Purvynes chuckled, as if amused. “They need a good lickin'—them boys do. Can't you hear what they are a-singin'?”
“No, I can't. I wasn't payin' no attention.”
“Why, it's—
“'Jim Hoag's body lies molderin' in the grave.'”
Hoag made no answer. He trudged along the rocky path in advance of the other. He stumped his toes occasionally, and was puffing from the exertion. The perspiration stood in visible drops on his furrowed brow. They had reached Hoag's horse, and he was preparing to mount, when a fusillade of pistol-shots, the clatter of horses' hoofs, and loud yells were heard in the distance.
“What's that?” Hoag paused with his hand in the mane of his mount, his foot in the stirrup.
“Oh, it's just them fellows celebratin' their victory. I'll bet they've already made Nape captain. But you can see how they are a-goin' to run things. We'll see the day, Jim, when us older men will be sorry we didn't let up on this business sooner. You know, I believe the klan would 'a' died out long ago if you hadn't took so much pride in it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Jim. Over half the members kept in just to curry favor one way or another with you, an' to drink the liquor you furnished on meetin'-nights, an' have som'er's to go.”
“I reckon you are mistaken.”
“No, I ain't. This thing's been your pet, Jim, but you're lost your grip on it—you have sure. An' you oughtn't to be sorry—I swear you oughtn't to be.”
The valley, which he could now see from the back of his horse, was Nature's symbol of infinite peace. From its dark depths rose the dismal hooting of a night-owl, the shrill piping of a tree-frog.
ABOUT this time Paul paid his first visit to the attractive cottage now occupied by Warren and his wife and sister-in-law. As he entered at the front door he saw his mother in the meadow some distance from the house. Amanda was dusting the new furniture in the little parlor, and, seeing him, she came forward with a flushed, pleased look on her round face.
“Oh, we have got things to goin' scrumptious!” she laughed, as she grasped his hand and drew him into the parlor. “Paul, it's a regular palace. The day the furniture come we all worked till away after dark gettin' things straight. That's the best cook-stove I ever saw, an' you sent enough groceries to last a month. I made your ma go to town an' buy the clothes she needed, too. The storekeeper said the more we ordered the better it would please him, for thar wasn't no limit to your credit. Oh, Paul, I wish I could think it was right.”
“But itisright,” he smiled, reassuringly. “It is right because it makes me happy to be able to do it.”
“That's what Ethel Mayfield said—”
“Ethel!” he broke in, his smile subsiding. “Have you seen her? Has she—”
“Oh, yes, she was over yesterday. Paul, she's awfully nice. I don't know when I have ever seen a nicer young lady. She ain't one bit stuck up. She was passin' along by the gate an' stopped an' introduced herself to me an' Addie. She offered to come in an' help fix up the house, said she'd love to the best in the world, but we wouldn't let 'er.”
“And you say that she said—” Paul began, tensely, “that she said I—”
“Yes; you see, your ma begun sayin' that she couldn't feel right about lettin' you do so much for us after all that's passed, and you know how Addie is—she set in to cry. That's when I discovered Ethel Mayfield's woman-heart. She choked up 'erself, an' put 'er arm round your ma in the tenderest way, and said—Paul, she said you was the best young man the sun ever shone on. You never heard the like since you was born. It looked like nothin' would stop 'er. The more she went on the more your ma cried, an' that started me, an' we was the silliest bunch o' blubberers you ever saw—wet every rag in sight. I had to change my apron. Ethel said you'd made a different sort o' creature of her from what she used to be. She declared she seed all things with a clearer sight—that thar wasn't any human difficulty you couldn't surmount. She told your ma that she knowed it was a regular joy to you to help 'er, an' that she must let you do it. I declare that girl looked like—I don't know what shedidlook like. She was as nigh an angel as any human I ever met. Her face was as tender as a rose an' her eyes was fairly streamin' with inside light. She kept takin' your ma by the hands an' pettin' 'er, an' tellin' 'er she was pretty. She told us how nigh distracted she'd been over her cousin's death, an' how you'd turned her sorrow into comfort by the beautiful way you looked at it.”
“She is very kind,” Paul said. “Is my mother coming in?”
“Yes, she'll be in right away. Say, Paul”—Amanda caught his lapel and held on to it—“is thar anything between you an'—I mean—it ain't none o' my business, but it seems to me like Ethel is just the sort o' girl that you would naturally take to, an'—” Paul detached himself from her clinging hold, and essayed a faint smile, while his blood beat furiously in his face.
“You mustn't think of such things,” he faltered, in a feeble effort to appear unconcerned. “She and I are good friends, that is all. You see, she is to inherit something from her uncle, and he has set his heart on her marrying a rich young man in Atlanta—a fellow that is all right, too, in every way. She knew him before she knew me, and—well, I am not a marrying man, anyway. I really don't think I ever shall marry. Some men have to stay single, you know.”
Amanda recaptured his lapels, and faced him with a warm stare of tenderness. “Paul, if I thought that us three old sticks-in-the-mud was standin' between you an' that purty, sweet girl—young as you are, with life spreadin' out before you like it is—after all your troubles, I—well, I couldn't let you—I justcouldn't!”
“How silly of you to think of such a thing!” he laughed, freely. “This opportunity to help you all, slight as it is, will be the very making of me.”
“It's certainly makin' a man of Jeff,” Amanda smiled, through glad tears. “He's plumb different from what he used to be. He talks about you like you was a royal prince. He says he is acceptin' this help only as a loan, an' that he'll pay it back 'fore he dies or break a trace. He rises at daybreak, an' works like a steam-engine till after dark. He's quit singin'—says he's goin' to sell the organ. He's gittin' his health an' strength back, an' holds his head higher. A funny thing happened yesterday. You'd 'a' laughed if you'd been here. He's been talkin' powerful about some'n he heard you say in regard to controllin' the temper an' not hatin' folks, an' he hammers on it constantly. He says his temper has always held 'im down, an' that you naturally would have more respect for 'im if he'd control it. Me an' him happened to be stand-in' at the gate talkin' on that very subject, when we seed Jim Hoag ridin' along toward us. Now, Jeff hadn't met Hoag face to face since we got back, an' knowin' how quick on trigger Jeff was, an' how high an' mighty Hoag holds hisse'f with common folks, I was afraid the two might hitch right then an' thar. I knowed Jeff wouldn't avoid 'im and I was sure Hoag would make 'im mad if he had half a chance, an' so to avoid trouble I said to Jeff: 'Jeff,' said I, 'now is the time for you to practise some o' your preachin'. Meet Jim Hoag like you don't want no more trouble, an' all will be well betwixt you both in future.' I reminded 'im that it was railly his duty, seein' that you git your livin' out o' Hoag an' we was so much benefited.”
“And so they made friends,” Paul said, eagerly. “I was afraid the old score would revive again.”
“Made friends? I'll tell you how they acted an' you kin think what you like,” Amanda laughed. “I've seed Jeff in a tight place before, but not one o' that sort. He stood hangin' his head, his lips curlin' an' his eyes flashin', an' all the time Hoag's hoss was a-fetchin' 'im closer an' closer. I seed Jeff makin' a struggle like a man tryin' to come through at the mourner's bench in a revival an' bein' helt back by the devil an' all his imps, but the best side won, an' as Hoag got opposite the gate Jeff tuck a deep breath an' called out, 'Hold on a minute, Jim Hoag, I want a word with you.'”
“Good!” Paul laughed. “It was like pulling eyeteeth, but he got there, didn't he?”
“You wait till I'm through an' you'll see,” Amanda smiled broadly, as she stroked her face with her big hand. “Hoag drawed in his hoss an' looked down at Jeff with a face as yaller as a pumpkin an' eyes that fairly popped out o' their sockets.
“'What you want to see me about?' he axed, an' I declare he growled like a bear.
“'Why, you see, Jim,' Jeff said, leanin' on the gate, 'me an' you have always sorter been at outs, an' bein' as we are nigh neighbors ag'in I thought I'd come forward like a man an' tell you that, as far as I'm concerned, I'm sorry we hain't been able to git on better before this, an' that I hain't no ill-will any longer, an' am willin' to stack arms and declare peace.'”
“Good for Jeff!” Paul chuckled; “he unloaded, didn't he?”
“You wait till I git through,” Amanda tittered under her red, crinkled hand. “When Jeff got that out Hoag sorter lifted his reins, shoved his heels ag'in' his hoss an' snorted. Then I heerd 'im say: 'You look out for yourself, an' I'll do the same.'
“He was movin' on, when Jeff fairly wrenched the gate off its hinges an' plunged out. In a second he had the hoss by the bridle, an' was jerkin' it back on its haunches.
“'Say,' he yelled at Hoag, when the hoss got still, 'that thar's the fust an' only apology I ever made to a livin' man, an' if you don't accept it, and accept it quick, I'll have you off that hoss an' under my feet, whar I'll stomp some politeness into you.'
“Lord, I was scared!” Amanda continued, as she joined in her nephew's laugh; “for Jim Hoag was mad enough to eat a keg o' nails without chawin' 'em. I was on the p'int o' runnin' 'twixt the two when Hoag sobered down.”
“'I don't want no trouble with you, Jeff,' he said. 'Let loose my bridle. I want to go on home.' “'Well, do youaccept?I heard Jeff yellin' at 'im, while he still hung to the reins.
“'Yes, I accept; I don't want no fuss,' Hoag said, an' Jeff let the hoss loose an' stood out o' the way.
“'It's a good thing you changed your mind,' he called after Hoag, who was joggin' on. 'I've sorter turned over a new leaf, but I hain't fastened it down any too tight. I could put up withsomethings from you, but you can't spit on my apology.'”
Paul laughed almost immoderately. “Socrates and Jesus Christ would have laid down different rules for human conduct if they had known those two men,” he said, as he went to the rear door and looked down toward his mother.
Amanda followed him. “Jim Hoag ain't the only person round here that's got a mean spirit,” she commented. “I'm thinkin' now about Tobe Williams's wife, Carrie; an' Jeff ain't the only one with a hot temper—I'm thinkin' now aboutmyself.”
“You!” Paul smiled. “You were always as pleasing as a basket of chips.”
“You don't know me, boy.” Amanda subdued an inclination to smile. “I don't reckon I git mad oftener than once a year, but when I do I take a day off an' raise enough sand to build a court-house. I've already had my annual picnic since I got back.”
“I'm sure you are joking now,” Paul said, experimentally, an expression of amused curiosity clutching his face. “You couldn't have got angry at Mrs. Williams.”
“Didn't I, though—the triflin' hussy! She driv' by the day we was housed in that pore shack of a cabin, an' put up a tale about needin' somebody to help 'er out with her house-work an' bein' in sech a plight with her big brood o' children that I swallowed my pride an' agreed to help 'er. I mention pride because me'n Carrie went to school together an' had the same beaus. She roped one in, an' is entirely welcome to 'im, the Lord knows if she doesn't. Yes, I swallowed my pride an' went. I never hired out before, but I went. I reckon we was both lookin' at the thing different. I had the feelin' that I was jest, you know, helpin' a old friend out of a tight; an' well, I reckon, from the outcome, that Carrie thought she had hired a nigger wench.”
“Oh, no, don't put it that way,” Paul protested, half seriously, though his aunt's unwonted gravity amused him highly.
“Well, she acted plumb like it,” Amanda averred, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing. “All the way out to her house she was talkin' about Jeff's flat come-down, an' Addie's sad looks, an'—an', above all, our cabin. Said thar was a better one behind the barn, on her land, but she believed Tobe was goin' to pack fodder in it, an' so she reckoned we'd as well not apply for it. She kept talkin' about this here new cottage. She'd been through it, she said, an' it was fine, an' no doubt Bob Mayburn would rent it to some rich town family to pass the summers in. In that case she thought we'd naturally feel uncomfortable—she knowedshewould if she was in our fix, an' have to live right up ag'in' folks that was so different. Take my word for it, Paul, she got me so all-fired hot that I wanted to jump over the buggy-wheels an' walk back home. I'd 'a' done it, too, but for one thing.”
“What was that?” Paul inquired, still amused. “Pride,” was the half-laughing answer. “Do you know the awkwardest predicament on earth is to git whar you are as mad as old Harry, an' at the same time would rather die on the rack than let it be knowed? Well, that woman had me in that fix. She was playin' with me like a kitten with a dusty June-bug. She knowed what she was sayin' all right, an' she knowed, too, that I wouldn't slap 'er in the mouth—because I was too much of a lady. But if she didn't cut gaps in me an' rub brine in no woman ever clawed an' scratched another.”
“Too bad!” Paul said, biting his lips. “I am wondering how it ended.”
“You may well wonder,” Amanda went on. “I wanted to throw up the job, but was ashamed to let 'er see how mad I was. It was even wiles after we got to her house. She tuck me straight to the kitchen, an' with the air of a queen she p'inted to the nastiest lot o' pots an' pans you ever laid eyes on, an' said she reckoned I'd have to give 'em a good scrubbin' fust, as they was caked with grease. Then she told me what she wanted for supper. Tobe liked string-beans, an' none 'had been fetched from the patch, an' I'd have plenty o' time to pick 'em, an' so on, an' so on. I saw I was in a hole an' tried to make the best of it. But when I come to put the supper on the table that she had told her little girl to set the plates on I seed thar was just places fixed for the family. You see, she thought I'd wait till that triflin' gang was through an' set down to scraps. Thar was one other thing Carrie Williams expected to happen, but it didn't take place.”
“She expected you to put poison in the food?” Paul jested.
“She expected me towaiton 'em—to fetch the grub from the stove to the table an' stick it under their noses, but I didn't. I took my seat on the kitchen door-step. I heard 'er callin', but I was deef as a post. One of the gals come an' told me her ma said they wanted a hot pone o' bread, an' I told 'er it was in the stove, an' if she didn't hurry it would burn—that I smelt it already. When supper was over Carrie come an' told me they was finished. She said she was sorry all the preserves was ate up, but that the children was greedy an' hard to control when sweet things was in sight. I told her I didn't feel like eatin'—that I never did when I worked over my own cookin', an' I didn't touch a bite. I set in to washin' the dishes an' she hung about, still talkin'. Her main theme was the old times an' how many of our crowd of girls had been unable to keep pace an' float with her, an' the few that was left on top. Then she mentioned you.”
“Me! I thought I'd get my share,” Paul smiled.
“Oh, she didn't have nothin' but praise for you,” Amanda returned. “In fact, she thought that would rankle. She had the idea that you was plumb through with us, an' said it must make us ashamed to be so close to you an' the fine folks at Hoag's. I was tempted to hit 'er betwixt the eyes one good lick to make 'er see straight, but I helt in. I got even, though—oh, I got even!”
“You say you did! Tell me about it,” Paul cried, highly amused.
“We was all settin' in the yard,” Amanda continued, “an' was jest fixin' to go to bed, when Jeff come, all out o' breath, an' told us the news about what you'd done, an' that I was wanted back home to help move. I ain't sure the Lord will ever forgive me, Paul, but I never felt so good in all my life as I did at the sight o' that woman. She was as limp as a wet rag, an' fairly keeled over. She actually tried to stop Jeff from talkin', but I pinned 'im down an' made 'im tell it over an' over. If I axed 'im one question about the new cottage an' new furniture I did a hundred. I went furder'n that. I looked at the house they live in—it's jest a four-room shack, you know, made of up-an'-down boards unpainted an' unsealed—an' axed 'er if it wasn't awful cold in winter, an' if the roof didn't sag too much for safety, an' whar she put the beds when it leaked. The purty part of it was that Tobe (I wish I could 'a' spared him, for he's nice an' plain as an old shoe) kept agreein' with me, an' braggin' on our new house, an' sayin' that he was too hard up to better 'imself. Carrie got so mad she plumb lost her grip, an' told 'im to dry up, an' then she flounced into the house an' wouldn't come out to say good-by. Paul, you may preach your human-love idea till you are black in the face, but if it works on a woman like Carrie Williams it will be when she's tied hand an' foot an' soaked with chloroform. I try not to let this nice place an' my pride in you spoil me. I don't think anybody could consider me stuck-up, but if Carrie Williams calls—which she is sure to do—I'll show 'er every single item about the place, an' remind 'er how much she praised it before we got it.”