"Do tell!" exclaimed Scattergood. "Wa-al, you know your business. Now, then, if you want to drive over six mile with me to-morrer, well git us that money and I'll take the stock."
"Good," said Mr. Bowman. "An early start. Can I take a train from there? I'll be through here, I think."
"To be sure," said Scattergood. "Mighty funny thing about that gold, now wa'n't it? Three bars. Wuth fifty thousand! Mighty slick work—to spirit it off and nobody never find a trace."
"The criminal classes," said Mr. Bowman, "have produced some remarkable intellects. Good night, Mr. Baines."
"See you early in the mornin'," replied Scattergood.
After a breakfast which Mr. Bowman watched Scattergood dispose of with admiration and astonishment, the pair entered the old buggy and started across the hills. In addition to his small bag Mr. Bowman brought a large suitcase containing his apparel, so it was apparent he was leaving the county seat for good. The morning came off hot and humid. Scattergood kept his eyes open for a spring, but it was not until they had driven some miles that an opportunity to find water appeared.
"Calculate we kin git a drink there," said Scattergood, pointing to a little shanty in a clearing by the roadside. He stopped his horse, and they alighted and knocked. There was no reply. Scattergood pushed open the door and then stepped back suddenly, for within were three individuals of disreputable appearance, and one of them regarded Scattergood over the leveled barrels of a shotgun.
"Come right in and set," invited this individual, and Scattergood, followed by Mr. Bowman, entered. On a table of pine wood, unconcealed, lay three enormous bars of gold.
"Um!..." said Scattergood, faintly, and leaned against the wall. "You would come rammin' in," said the gentleman with the shotgun. "Now I calc'late you got to stay."
Scattergood grinned amiably. "Vallyble loaves of bread you got there," he said.
"Gold," said the man, succinctly.
"Hain't no mines around here, be there?"
"We hain't sayin'. But that there gold come from a mine, all right—sometime."
"Calc'late you been robbin' a train or somethin'," said Scattergood, mildly. "Now don't git het up. 'Tain't none of my business. Doin' robbin' for a reg'lar livin'?" he asked, innocently.
"Hain't never done none before—" began one of the men, but his companion directed him to "shut up and stay shut."
"No harm talkin' 's I kin see. We got these fellers here and here they stay till we git clean off. Kind of like to tell somebody the joke."
"I'm doggone int'rested," said Scattergood.
The rough individual with the gun laughed loudly. "May's well tell you," he said, raucously. "Me and the boys was in town yestiddy, calc'latin' to ship some ferns by express. Went into the office. Agent wa'n't there. Safe was. Open. Ya-as, wide open. We seen three gold chunks inside, and nobody around watchin'. Looked full better 'n ferns, so we jest took a notion to carry 'em out to the wagin and drive off.... Now we got it, I'm dummed if I know what to do with it. Hear tell it's wuth fifty thousand dollars."
Mr. Bowman spoke. "You'll find it mighty hard to dispose of."
"Don't need to worry you."
"Suppose you could sell it for a fair price, cash, and get away with the money?"
"That's our aim."
"Mr. Baines," said Bowman, "there's money in this if you aren't too particular."
"Hain't p'tic'lar a-tall. How you mean?"
"What would you say to buying this gold—at a reasonable price? I can dispose of it—through channels I am acquainted with. You can put in the money we were going for, and I'll put in some more. Ought to show a handsome profit."
"Might nigh double my money, maybe, eh? Figger that? Gimme twict as much to buy stock with."
"Yes, indeed."
"Let's dicker."
"What will you men take to walk away and leave that gold?"
"Forty thousand."
"Fiddlesticks. I'll give you ten—and you're clear of the whole mess."
There was a wrangle. For half an hour the dicker went on, and finally a price of fifteen thousand dollars was agreed upon. Mr. Bowman was to pay over the money, and Scattergood was to contribute his five thousand dollars as soon as they got it. For one third of the profits.
The money was paid over; the three robbers disappeared with alacrity, leaving Scattergood and Bowman with the stolen gold.
"We can take it along in the buggy, covered with ferns," said Bowman. "Nobody'll suspectyou."
"Be safe as a church," said Scattergood, boldly. "Lug her out."
So they carried the gold to the buggy, covered it snugly with ferns, and drove toward the next town, Scattergood talking excitedly of profits and of how much mining stock he could purchase with the money received, and of ample wealth from the transaction. Mr. Bowman smiled with the faint, quiet smile of one whose soul is at peace. Just before they got to town Scattergood suggested that they stop to make sure the gold was completely concealed.
They drove into the woods a few rods and uncovered the treasure. Scattergood gloated over it.
"I've heard tell you kin cut real gold like cheese," he said, and opened his jackknife. With it he hacked off a shaving and held it up to the light.
"Is all gold this here way?" he asked. "Don't look to me to be the same color all the way through. Looks like silver or suthin' inside."
Mr. Bowman snatched the shaving, scrutinized it, and uttered language in a loud voice. He snatched Scattergood's knife and tested all three ingots.
"Lead!" he said, savagely. "Nothing but lead! We've been swindled!"
"You mean it hain't gold a-tall?"
"It's lead, I tell you."
"I vum!... Them fellers stole lead! And they got off with all your money. Gosh! I'm glad I didn't have none along." His eyes were mirthless and his face vacuous. "Beats all. Never heard tell of nothin' sim'lar."
They got into the buggy and drove silently into town. Mr. Bowman tried to recover his spirits, but they were at low ebb. He did manage to hint that Scattergood should stand his share of the loss, but in his heart he knew that to be vain. Still, he could get that five thousand dollars for the mining stock. It would be five thousand dollars.
"Anyhow," he said, "you're fortunate. You still can buy the stock and make your pile."
"This here deal," said Scattergood, "has kind of made me figger. 'Tain't safe to buy gold chunks till youknowthey're gold. Likewise 'tain't safe to buy mine stock till you know there's a mine. Calc'late I'll do a mite of investigatin' 'fore I pungle over that five thousand.... Where kin I leave you, Mr. Bowman? I'm calc'latin' to drive home from here. Maybe I'll see you later. But I got to investigate."
Mr. Bowman made himself unpleasant for a brief time, but Scattergood was vacuously stubborn. Presently he drove away, leaving Mr. Bowman on the veranda of the hotel, scowling and uttering words of strength and meaning. Mr. Bowman was very unhappy.
Scattergood drove as rapidly as his horse could travel, arriving at Coldriver just after the supper hour. He went directly to his store, which had been left in charge of Mr. Spackles. Three men were waiting there for him. They handed him a leather bag and he satisfied himself that it contained fifteen thousand dollars.
"Much 'bleeged, boys," he said. "Do as much f'r you, some day. G'-by."
"Mr. Spackles," he said, "kin you fetch Grandmother Penny over here—right now?"
"Calculate I kin," said Mr. Spackles, and he proved himself able to keep his word.
"Grandmother Penny," said Scattergood, when she arrived, "you and Mr. Spackles up and made a investment. I been a-lookin' after that investment f'r you—and f'r these other dum fools in town. Best I could do f'r them others was to git their money back—every cent of it. But I took keer to do a mite more f'r you and Mr. Spackles. I got your five hunderd f'r you—and then I seen a way to git ten thousand more. Here she be. Count it.... I don't guess there's any way this here money could be put to better use."
"F'r us? Ten thousand—"
"I'll handle it f'r you. Give you int'rest of six hunderd a year. You kin marry like you planned, and if your childern objects you kin tell 'em to go to blazes.... You'll want a place to live. Wa-al, I got twenty acre back of town and a leetle house and furniture. Took it on a deal. You kin move in and work it on shares. Ought to be able to live blamed well."
Grandmother Penny was crying.
"You done all this f'r us, f'r James and me! There hain't no reason f'r it. 'Tain't believable.... There hain't no way to say thankee."
"I hain't wantin' you to say thankee, Grandmother Penny. Jest mog along and marry this old coot, and git what joy you kin out of livin'."
Mr. Spackles was inquisitive in addition to being grateful.
"What I want to know," he demanded, "is how you managed it?"
"Oh," said Scattergood, "jest made use of the sayin' about curin' with the hair of the dog that bit you. Figgered a swindler wouldn't never suspect nobody of swindlin' him with one of his own tricks. This here Mr. Baxter, or Mr. Bowman, or whatever his name is, used to make a livin' sellin' gold bricks. When I found that there fact out I jest calc'lated he was ripe to do a mite of gold-brick buyin' himself.... Which he done."
"Scattergood," said Grandmother Penny, "I'm a-goin' to kiss you."
Scattergood presented his cheek, and Grandmother Penny threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his weather-beaten face. He smiled, but as if he were smiling at somebody not present. When they had gone their way to find marriage license and parson he went out on to his piazza and looked up at the moonlit sky.
"Grandma Baines," he said, after a moment, "if you kin see down from where you be, I hope you hain't missin' that I done this f'r you. I was pertendin' all the time that you was Grandmother Penny...."
Scattergood Baines sat on the piazza of his hardware store and twiddled his bare toes reflectively. He was not thinking of to-day nor of to-morrow, but of days a score of years distant and of plans not to come to maturity for twenty years. That was Scattergood's way. From his history, as it is to be gathered from the ancient gossips of Coldriver, one is forced to the conclusion that few of his acts were performed with reference to the immediate time. If he set on foot some scheme, one learns to study it and to endeavor to see to what outcome it may lead ten years after its inception. He looked always to the future, and more than once one may see where he has forgone immediate profit in order to derive that profit a hundredfold a generation later.
So, as Scattergood twiddled his reflective toes, he looked far ahead into the future of Coldriver Valley; he saw that valley as his own, developed as few mountain valleys are ever developed. Its stage line, already his property, was replaced by a railroad. The waters of its river and tributaries were dammed to give a cheap and constant power which should be connected in some way to this electricity of which he heard so much and about which he always desired to hear more. He saw factories springing up. In short, he saw his valley as the center of the state's commercial life, and himself as the center of the valley.
Scattergood was well aware that there always will exist those who will clog the road of progress and attempt to stem any tide arising for the public good—unless they can see for themselves an individual benefit. He knew that it is not uncommon for those whose business is the common good—such individuals as legislators and governors and judges—to assume some such attitude, and he knew that it was regarded as expensive to win their favor. He did not grow especially angry at this condition, but accepted it as a condition and studied to see what he could do about it—for he knew he must do something about it.
He must take it into consideration, because one does not build railroads without legislative sanction, nor does one dam streams nor carry out wide commercial programs. The consent of thepeoplemust be had, and the people had handed over their consent in trust to their elected representatives. Scattergood saw at once that it was preferable to be one from whom governors and legislators and judges asked favors and looked to for guidance, than to be one to come a suppliant before those personages, and as soon as he saw that clearly he reached his determination.
"Calculate," said he, to the shoes which he held in his hand, "that I got to git up and stir around in politics some."
From that moment Scattergood scrutinized the bowl of politics to discover when and where he could dip in his spoon.
The opportunity to dip, it soon became apparent, would be at the time of the fall town meetings, for there was a fight on in the state and its preliminary rumblings were already making themselves audible. Hitherto the state had been held securely by certain political gentlemen, who in turn had been held securely by a certain other and greater political gentleman—Lafe Siggins. Other non-political gentlemen who representedmoneyandbusinesshad seen, as Scattergood did, the necessity for becoming political, and had chosen their moment to endeavor to take the state away from Messrs. Siggins & Co. and to hold it thereafter for their own benefit and behoof. They were, therefore, laying their plans to win the legislature by winning the town meetings of the fall, and to win they had decided to make their fight upon the total prohibition of liquor in the state. It was not that they cared ethically whether drinks of a spirituous nature were dispensed or not, but it was the best available issue. If it did not work out to their satisfaction they could reverse themselves when they came into power.
So they made an issue of prohibition, and planned astutely to go to the town meetings on that platform, for a majority of the towns voted local option with regularity. The new powers would first sweep the town meetings for local option, and in the wave of enthusiasm put into office at the same time legislators chosen by themselves.
Scattergood saw the trend of affairs early and gave them his earnest consideration. That his ancient ill wishers, Messrs. Crane & Keith, were identified with the new and rising power may not have been the least of the considerations which determined him to dip in his spoon on the side of Siggins and the old order. But there was one obstacle. Scattergood desired local option, for he was now the employer of many men, both in the woods and in other enterprises, and he knew well that labor and hard liquor are disturbing bedfellows.... He considered and reached the conclusion that for this one time, perhaps, he could both have his cake and eat it.
He could have his cake and still eat it only by the results of an election which should not be a victory for the new powers nor for the old, but for another minor power differing from each. In other words, Scattergood saw the wisdom of defeating both the contenders locally, and then of throwing in with Siggins as to the fight for state control.... But of this determination he notified not a soul. Judging from his actions, it may be safely said that he was at some pains to conceal the fact that he was interested in politics in any manner or degree whatever.
But Scattergood was a chatty body, and Coldriver would have been surprised if he did not talk politics, as did all its other male inhabitants. It came about that more politics than hardware was discussed on Scattergood's piazza, but to the casual listener it seemed only purposeless discussion. But Scattergood was a master of purposeless discussion. His methods were his own and worthy of notice.
Marvin Towne and Old Man Bogle sauntered past and paused to mention the weather.
"Goin' to be lots of politics this year," said Scattergood. "Jest got in a line of gardenin' tools, Bogle."
"Town's goin' to be het up for certain," said Mr. Bogle, waggling his ancient head. "Calc'late to have all the tools I need."
"Who's figgerin' on runnin' for legislature, Marvin?"
"Guess Will Pratt's puttin' up Pazzy Cox ag'in." Pratt was postmaster and local party leader.
"Anybody calc'latin' to run ag'in' him, Marvin? Any opposition appearin'?"
"Goin' to be a fight, Scattergood. Big doin's in the state. Tryin' to upset Lafe Siggins. Uh-huh! Wuth watchin', says I."
"I hear tell the lawless elements is puttin' up Jim Allen on a whisky platform," said Old Man Bogle, acidly.
"Them all the candidates, Bogle? Hain't no others?"
"Nary."
"Coldriver's got to take whatever candidates them outsiders chooses, eh? Coldriver hain't got no say who'll represent her in the legislature?"
"Don't 'pear so. All done by party machinery, Scattergood. We got nothin' to do but pick between parties."
"Looks so.... Looks that way," said Scattergood. "Too bad there hain't one more party that hain't controlled so folks could git a chance.... What's this here Prohibition party I been hearin' some of in other parts?"
"'S fur's I know it's all right, only it hain't got no votes, and votes is necessary in politics."
"Licker enters into this here campaign, don't it?"
"Backbone of it."
"Seems like these Prohibition fellers ought to take a hand. Any of 'em in Coldriver?"
"Don't seem like I ever heard speak of one."
"Could be, couldn't there? 'Tain't impossible?"
"S'pose one could be got up—if anybody was int'rested."
"Need a strong candidate, wouldn't they? Have to have a man to head it up that would command respect?"
"Wouldn't git fur with it. Parties too well organized."
"Um!... Lemme show you a new hand seeder I jest got in. Labor savin'. Calc'late it's a bargain."
"Don't hold with them newfangled notions, Scattergood."
"S'prised at you, Marvin. Folks expects progress of you. Look up to you, kind of. Take their idees from you."
"I dunno," said Marvin, visibly pleased, but deprecatory.
"Careful, cautious—but most gen'ally right, that's what I hear folks say. Quite a bit of talk goin' around about you. Politics. Uh-huh! Heard several say it was a pity Marvin Towne couldn't be got to go to the legislature. Heard that, hain't you, Bogle?"
"Don't call it to mind, but maybe I have. Maybe I have. Anyhow, I calc'late it's true."
"There you be, Marvin. Now it behooves a man that's looked up to for to keep in the lead. Ought to look into that seeder, Marvin. Folks'll say: 'Marvin Towne's got him one of them seeders. Darn progressive farmer. Gits him all the modern improvements.'"
"Suthin' in what you say, Scattergood. Calculate I might examine into that tool one of these days."
"Hain't much choice between Pazzy Cox and Jim Allen, eh? Hain't neither of 'em desirable lawmakers, eh? That what you was sayin'?"
"Them's my idees," said Marvin.
"Too bad we're forced to take one or t'other. Now if they was some way for you to step in and run."
"Hain't."
"Sh'u'd think you'd look over them Prohibitionists. Draw all the best citizens after you. Set a example to the state.... Step back and look at that there seeder, Marvin."
Marvin looked at the seeder judicially. "Calc'late to guarantee it, Scattergood?"
"Put it in writin'," said Scattergood.
"Calc'late I'll have to have it. Considerin' everything, guess I'll take it along."
"Knowed you would, Marvin. Sich men as you is to be depended on. Folks realizes it."
"If I thought they was a call for me to go to the legislature—"
"Call?" said Scattergood. "Marvin, I'm tellin' you it's dum near a shout."
"Huh!... Where could I git to find out about this here Prohibitionist party?"
Presently Marvin Towne and Old Man Bogle went along. Scattergood gazed after them speculatively, and as he gazed his hands went automatically to his shoes, which he removed to give play to his reflective toes. "Um!..." he grunted. "If nothin' more comes of it I made a profit of three dollar forty on that seeder."
Pliny Pickett, stage driver, was a frequent caller at Scattergood's store, first as an employee, but more importantly as a dependable representative who could carry out an order without asking questions, especially when no definite order had been given.
"Pliny," said Scattergood, "know Marvin Towne, don't you? Brought up with him, wasn't you?"
"Know him like the palm of my hand."
"Um!... Strange he hain't never been talked up for the legislature, Pliny. Strange there hain't talk about him on the stagecoach. Ever hear any?"
"Some, lately."
"Could hear more, couldn't you? If you listened.... Set around the post office, evenin's, don't you?"
"Some."
"Discussin' topics? Ever discuss this Prohibition party?"
"Icould," said Pliny.
"Seems like a shame folks here can't run the man they want for office. Strike you that way?"
"Certain sure. Calc'late they want Marvin bad?"
"Theycould," said Scattergood. "G'-by, Pliny."
Ten days later a third party made its appearance in the politics of Coldriver, and Marvin Towne was announced as its candidate for the legislature. It seemed a spontaneous excrescence, but, nevertheless, it caused a visit from that great man and citizen, Lafe Siggins, as well as a call from Mr. Crane, of Crane & Keith. Both astute gentlemen viewed the situation, and their alarm subsided. Indeed, both perceived where it could be turned to advantage. A canvass of the situation showed them that the new Prohibitionists, though they talked loud and long, were made up mainly of the discontented and of a few men always ready to join any novel movement, and promised at best to poll not to exceed forty votes of Coldriver's registered three hundred and eighty. It really simplified the situation to Lafe and to Crane, for it removed from circulation forty doubtful votes and left the real battle to be fought between the regulars. Wherefore Messrs. Siggins and Crane departed from the village in satisfied mood.
Scattergood sat on his piazza as usual, the morning after the portentous visit, and called a greeting to Wade Lumley, dry-goods merchant, as that prominent citizen passed to his place of business.
"How's the geldin' this mornin', Wade?" he asked.
"Feelin' his oats. Got to take him out on the road this evenin'. Time to begin shapin' him up for the county fair."
"Three-year-old, hain't he?"
"Best in the state."
"Always figgered that till I heard Ren Green talkin'. Ren calculates he's got a three-year-old that'll make any other hoss in these parts look like it was built of pine."
Wade was eager in a moment. "Willin' to back them statements with money, is he?"
"Said somethin' about havin' a hunderd dollars that wasn't workin' otherwise, seems as though," said Scattergood. "Jest half a mile from Pettybone's house to the dam," he continued, with apparent irrelevance. "Level road."
"And my geldin' kin travel that same road spryer 'n Green's hoss—for a hunderd dollars," said Wade, eagerly.
"Dunno," said Scattergood. "Hoss races is uncertain. G'-by, Wade. See you later."
A similar conversation with Ren Green during the day resulted in a meeting between the horsemen, an argument, loud words, and a heated offer to wager money, which was accepted with like heat.
"From Pettybone's to the dam—half a mile," shouted Wade.
"Suits me to a T," bellowed Ren; "and now you kin step across with me and deposit that there hunderd dollars ag'in' mine with Briggs of the hotel."
So, terms and conditions having been arranged, the bets were made, and the money locked in the hotel safe. News of the matter swept through Coldriver, and for the evening politics were forgotten and excitement ran high. Next day it arose to a higher pitch, for Town-marshal Pease had forbidden the race to be run through the public streets of Coldriver, viewing it as a menace to life, limb, and the public peace. Scattergood had conversed sagely with Pease on the duties of a town marshal.
Marvin Towne had formed the habit of stopping to chat with Scattergood daily, totally unconscious that to all intents and purposes he had been ordered by Scattergood to make daily reports to him. He seemed depressed as he leaned against a post of the piazza.
"Lookin' peaked, Marvin. Hain't all goin' well? Gittin' uneasy?"
"It's this dum hoss race," said Marvin. "Everybody's het up over it so's nobody'll talk politics. How's a feller goin' to win votes if he can't git nobody to talk to him, that's what I want to know? Seems like there hain't nothin' in the world but Wade Lumley's geldin' and that hoss of Green's."
"Um!... Sort of distressing hain't it? Know Kent Pilkinton perty well, Marvin?"
"Brother-in-law."
"Holds public office, don't he?"
"Chairman of the Board of Selectmen's what he is."
"Good man fur't," said Scattergood, waggling his head. "Calculate to be on good terms with him, Marvin? Perty good terms?"
"Good enough so's he kin ask me to loan him two thousand dollars he's needin' a'mighty bad."
"Give it to him, Marvin?"
"Huh!" said Marvin, eloquently.
"If I was to indorse his note, think you could see your way clear?"
"Certain sure."
"See him ag'in, won't you? Perty soon?"
"Yes."
"What d'you calc'late to tell him?"
"What you said?"
"Didn't say nothin', did I? Jest asked a question. It was yousaidsomething Marvin, wa'n't it? Said you'd lend on my indorsement."
"That what you want me to tell him?"
"Didn't say so, did I? Jest asked a question. G'-by, Marvin. Lemme know what he says."
It was unnecessary for Marvin to report, for early next morning Kent Pilkinton, owner of a hill farm on the out-skirts of a village—a farm on which he succeeded in raising the most ample crop of whiskers in Coldriver, and little else, came diffidently up to Scattergood as he sat in front of his hardware store.
"Morning Kent," said Scattergood. "Come to look at mowin' machines, I calc'late."
"Mightlookat one," said Kent.
"Need one, don't you?"
"Bad."
"Need quite a mess of implements, don't you?"
"Could do with 'em if I had 'em.... 'Tain't what I come fur, though, Scattergood. Been tryin' to borrow money off of my brother-in-law, but he don't calclate to lend without I git an indorser, and seems like he sets store by your name on a note."
"Does, eh? Any reason I should indorse for you? Know any reason?"
"Nary," said Kent, and started to move off.
"Hold your bosses. What you need the money for?"
"Pay off a thousand-dollar mortgage and another thousand to git the farm in shape to run."
"Calculate you kin run it, then?"
"If I git the tools."
"I figger maybe you kin. Like to see you git ahead. Where d'you calculate to buy them implements?"
"Off of you."
"I got 'em to sell. When you got to have the money?"
"Two weeks to-morrow."
This was the day after the town meeting.
"Come in and pick out your implements," said Scattergood.
"Meanin' you'll indorse?"
"Meanin' that—pervidin' nothin' unforeseen comes up between now and then."
Half a day was spent selecting tools and implements for the farm, and though Pilkinton did not know it, it was Scattergood's selection that was purchased. Scattergood knew what was necessary and what would be economical, and that was what Pilkinton got, and nothing more. It netted Scattergood a pleasant profit, and Kent got the full equivalent of his money.
"Preside at town meetin', don't you?"
"My duty," said Kent.
"Calc'late todoyour duty?"
"Always done so."
"Comin' to see you do it," said Scattergood. He paused. "Next mornin' we'll fix up the note. G'-by, Kent." During the fourteen days that followed Coldriver was happy; between politics and the forbidden horse race, it had such food for conversation that even cribbage under the barber shop languished, and one had to walk into the road to pass the crowd at the post office of evenings. As to the horse race, it resembled a boil. Daily it grew more painful. Like a boil, such a horse race as this must burst some day, and it was reaching the acute stage. But Town-marshal Pease was vigilant and spoke sternly of the majesty of the law.
As to the election, it grew even more dubious. Scattergood privately took stock of the situation. Marvin Towne and the Prohibitionists might count now on a vote or two more than fifty. Postmaster Pratt appeared certain of better than a hundred, and so did the opposing party. One or the other of them was certain to win as matters lay, and Marvin's case seemed hopeless. Marvin conceived it so and was for withdrawing, but Scattergood saw to it that he did not withdraw.
"Keep your votes together," he said. "Stiffen 'em." It was his first direct order. "Fetch 'em to the meetin' and be sure of every one."
On town-meeting day Coldriver filled with rigs from the surrounding township. Every rail and post was utilized for hitching, and Town-marshal Pease, his star displayed, patrolled the town to avert disorder. He patrolled until the meeting went into session, and then he took his chair just under the platform, and, as was his duty, guarded the sacredness of the ballot.
Scattergood was present, sitting in a corner under the overhang of the balcony, watching, but discouraging conversation. If one had studied his face during the early proceedings he would have read nothing except a genial interest, which was the thing Coldriver expected to see on Scattergood's face. Town questions were decided, matters of sidewalks, of road building, of schools, and every instance Marvin Towne's fifty-two voted as a unit, swinging from one side to the other as their peculiar interest dictated. On all minor questions it was Marvin Towne's Prohibitionists who decided, because they carried the volume of votes necessary to control. But when it came to major affairs, such as the election of officers, there would be a different story. Then they could join with neither party, but must stand alone as a unit, far outvoted.
So the regulars disregarded them, or if they gave them any attention it was jocular. Even Marvin viewed the day as lost, but Scattergood held him to the mark with a word passed now and then. It came three o'clock of the afternoon before nominations for the high office of legislator were the order of proceeding. Jim Allen and Pazzy Cox were placed before the meeting as candidates amid the stimulated applause of their adherents. Marvin Towne's name was received with laughter and such jeers as the New England breed of farmer and townsman has rendered his own, and at which he is a genius surpassed by none.
Chairman Pilkinton arose, as befitted the moment.
"Feller townsmen, we will now proceed to cast our ballots for the office of representative in the legislature. The polls is open, and overlooked by Town-marshal Pease. The ballotin' will begin."
And then....
At that instant there was an uproar on the stairs. Pliny Pickett burst into the room, his hat missing, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"It's a-comin' off. They've stole a march. Hoss race!... Hoss race!... Ren Green and Wade Lumley's got their hosses up to Deacon Pettybone's and they're goin' to race to the dam. Everybody out. Hoss race!... Hoss race!..." He turned and ran frantically down the stairs, and on his heels followed the voters of Coldriver. But one or two remained; men too rheumatic to chance rapid movement, or those whose positions compelled them to consider as non-existent such a matter as a race between quadrupeds.
But no sooner had the hall cleared than men began to return, in couples, in squads, and to take their seats. Scattergood was standing up now, counting. Fifty-two he counted, and remained standing.
"Polls is open, Mr. Chairman," says he.
"They was declared so, but—er—the voters has gone. I hain't clear how to perceed."
"Do your duty, chairman, like you said. Town meetings don't calculate to take account of hoss races, do they? Eh?... None of your affair, is it?"
Pilkinton looked at Scattergood, who smiled genially and said: "Duty's duty, Pilkinton. If you was to fail in your duty as a public officer, folks might git to think you wasn't the sort of citizen that could be trusted. Might even affect sich things as credit and promissory notes."
Mr. Pilkinton no longer hesitated.
"The polls is open," he said.
The fifty-two, ballots ready in their hands, started for the box, but Town-marshal Pease, awakened from his astonishment, lifted his voice.
"I got to stop that hoss race. Stop the votin' till I git back. That hoss race has got to be stopped."
"Seems to me like votes was more important than hoss races," said Scattergood.
"The town marshal will stay right where he is, and guard the ballot box," said the chairman.
The voters moved to the front, and as they deposited their ballots, sounds from without, indicating excitement and delight, were carried through the windows to their ears. The fifty-two voted and returned to their seats.
"If everybody present and desirin' to vote has done so," said Scattergood, "I move you them polls be closed."
Mr. Pilkinton put the motion, and it was carried with enthusiasm.
"Tellers," suggested Scattergood.
As was the custom, the votes were counted immediately. The result stood, Marvin Towne: fifty-three votes; Jim Allen, two votes; Pazzy Cox, four votes.
"I declare Marvin Towne elected our representative to the legislature," said Chairman Pilkinton, weakly, and sat down, mopping his brow.
"That bein' the final business of this meetin'," said Scattergood, "I move we adjourn."
The story swept the state. Twenty-four hours later Lafe Siggins visited Coldriver and was driven to Scattergood Baines's hardware store. Scattergood sat on the piazza, and as soon as the visitor was identified the male inhabitants of the village began to gather.
"Kin we talk in private?" said Mr. Siggins.
"Hain't got no need for privacy. Folks is welcome to listen to all I got to say."
Mr. Siggins frowned, but, being a politician and partially estimating the quality of his man, he did not protest.
"You beat us clever," said he.
"Calculated to," said Scattergood.
"In politics for good?"
"Calculate to be."
"What you aim to do?"
"Kind of look after the politics in Coldriver."
"Be you fur me or ag'in' me?"
"I'm fur you till my mind changes."
"How about this here Prohibition party?"
"Don't figger it's necessary after this."
"Guess we kin agree," said Siggins. "You can figger the party machinery's behind you. So fur'swe'reconcerned,you'reColdriver."
"Calc'lated to be," said Scattergood.
"Some day," said Siggins, in not willing admiration, "you're goin' to run the state."
"Calc'late to," said Scattergood, and thereby rather took Mr. Siggins's breath. "Figger on makin' politics kind of a side issue to the hardware business. Find it mighty stimilatin'. Politics took in moderation, follerin' a meal of business, makes an all-fired tasty dessert.... G'-by, Siggins, g'-by."
"Calc'late both them young folks was guilty of an error of jedgment when they up and married each other," said Will Pratt, postmaster of Coldriver, in the judicial tone which he had affected since his elevation to office.
"Mean Marthy Norton and Jed Lewis, Will? Referrin' to them especial?" Scattergood peered after the young couple who had the moment before passed his hardware store, not walking jovially in the enjoyment of each other's presence as young married folks should walk, but sullenly and in silence.
"They be thei-dentical ones," Will declared. "Naggin' and quarrelin' and bickerin' from sunup to milkin' time. Used to do it private like, but it's been gittin' so lately you can't pass the house without hearin' 'em referrin' to each other mighty sharp and searchin'."
"Um!... Difficulty appears to be what, Will? Got any idee where lies the seat of the trouble?"
"They jest hain't habitually suited to one another," said Will. "Whatever one of 'em is fur the tother's ag'in'. Looks like they go to bed spiteful and wake up acr'monious. 'Tain't like as if Jed was the breed of feller that beats his wife, or that Marthy was the kind that looks out of the corner of her eye at drummers stoppin' to the hotel."
"Jest kind of irritate one another, eh?" said Scattergood, thoughtfully. "Kind of git on each other's nerves, you might say. Um!... I call to mind when they was married, five year ago. 'Twan't indicated them days. Jed he couldn't set easy if Marthy wasn't nigh, and Marthy went around lookin' as if she'd swallered a pin and it hurt if Jed was more 'n forty rod off. If ever two young folks was all het up over each other, Jed and Marthy was them young folks.... And 'twan't but five year ago...."
"End by separating" said the postmaster.
"There's the stage a-rattlin' in," Scattergood said, suddenly. "Better git ready f'r distributin' the mail, Will. G'-by, Will; and, Will, if 'twas me I dunno but what I'd kind of keep my mouth shet about Marthy and Jed. Outside gabblin' hain't calc'lated to help matters none. G'-by, Will."
The postmaster recognized his dismissal; he knew that the manner which had fallen upon Scattergood portended that something was on his mind and that he wanted to be alone and think, so he withdrew hastily and plodded across the dusty road to the office of which he was the executive head.
As for Scattergood, he pressed his double chin down upon his bulging chest, closed his eyes, and gave himself up enthusiastically to looking like a gigantic figure of discouragement. He waggled his head dubiously.
"Wonder if it kin be laid to my door," he said to himself. "I figgered they was about made f'r each other, and I brung 'em together.... Somethin's got crossways. Um!... Take them young folks separate, and you couldn't ask for nothin' better.... Don't understand it a mite.... Anyhow, things has turned out as they be, and what kin I do about it?"
His reinforced chair creaked under the shifting of his great weight as he bent mechanically to remove his shoes. With his toes imprisoned in leather, Scattergood's brain refused to function, a characteristic which greatly chagrined his wife, Mandy—so much so that she had considered sewing him up in his footwear, as certain mothers in the community sewed their children in their underwear for the winter.
Scattergood had amassed a fortune that might be called handsome, but it had not made him effete. His income had never warranted him in purchasing a pair of socks, so now, upon the removal of his shoepacs, his toes were fully at liberty to squirm and wriggle in the most soul-satisfying manner. He sat thus, battling with his problem, until Pliny Pickett, driver of the stage, and Scattergood's man, rattled up to the store in his dust-whitened conveyance.
"Afternoon, Scattergood," he said, in a manner which he endeavored to make as like his employer's as possible.
"Afternoon, Pliny. Successful trip, Pliny? Plenty of passengers? Eh? Any news down the valley?"
"Done middlin' well. Hain't much news, 'ceptin' that young Widder Conroy down to Tupper Falls died of somethin' the matter with her stummick and folks is wonderin' what'll become of her baby."
"Baby? What kind of a baby did she calc'late to have?"
"A he one—nigh onto two year old. Neighbors is lookin' after him."
"Got relatives?"
"Not that anybody knows of."
"Um!... Wasn't passin' Jed Lewis's house, was you?"
"Didn't figger to."
"Wasn't passin' Jed Lewis's, was you?" Scattergood repeated, insistently.
"I could."
"Um!... If you was to, and if you seen Jed, what was you figgerin' on sayin' to him?"
Pliny scratched his head and pondered.
"Calculate I'd mention the heat some, and maybe I might say suthin' about national politics."
"Wouldn't mention me, would you, Pliny? Don't figger my name might come up?"
"It might."
"If it did, what 'u'd you say, eh? Hain't no reason for mentionin' that I might want to talk to him, is there? Hain't said so, have I?"
"You hain't," said Pliny, at last enlightened as to Scattergood's desire in the matter.
"G'-by, Pliny."
"G'-by, Scattergood."
An hour later Jed Lewis sauntered past the store and stopped. "Pliny Pickett says you want to see me, Scattergood."
"Said that, did he? Told you I said I wanted to see you?"
"Wa-al, maybe not exactly. Not in so many words. But he kind of hinted around and pecked around till I figgered that was what the ol' coot was gittin' at."
"Um!... Didn't tell him nothin' of the kind, but as long's you're here you might as well set. Hain't seen much of you lately. How's the hayin'?"
"Too much rain. Got her cocked twice and had to spread her ag'in to dry."
"Hear any politics talked around, Jed?"
"Nothin' special."
Jed was brief in his answers. He seemed depressed, and conducted himself like a man who had something on his mind.
"Any fresh news from anywheres?"
"Hain't heard none."
"Hear about the Packinses down to Bailey?"
"Never heard tell of 'em." There was excellent reason for this, because no such family as the Packinses existed in Bailey or anywhere else, to Scattergood's knowledge.
"Goin' to separate," said Scattergood.
Jed looked up quickly, bit his lip, and looked down again.
"What fur?" he asked.
"Nobody kin figger out. Jest agreein' to disagree. Can't git along, nohow. Always naggin' at each other and squabblin' and hectorin'.... Nice young folks, too. Used to set a heap of store by one another. Can't figger how they come to disagree like they do!"
"Nobody kin figger it out," said Jed, with sudden vehemence. "All to once you wake up and things is that way, and you dunno how they come to be. It jest drifts along. Fust you know things has went all to smash."
"Um!... You talk like you knowed somethin' about it."
"Nobody knows more," said the young man, bitterly. He was suddenly conscious that he wanted to talk about his domestic affairs; that he wanted to loose the story of his troubles and dwell upon them in all their ramifications.
"Do tell," said Scattergood, with an inflection of astonishment.
"Marthy and me has about come to the partin' of our roads," said Jed. "It's come gradual, without our noticin' it, but it's here at last. Seems like we can't bear the sight of each other—when we git together. And yit—sounds mighty funny, too—I calc'late to be as fond of Marthy as ever I was. But the minute we git together we bicker and quarrel till there hain't no pleasure into life at all."
"All Marthy's fault, hain't it? Kind of a mean disposition, hain't she?"
"No sich thing, Scattergood, and you know it dum well. There didn't use to be a sweeter-dispositioned girl in the state than Marthy.... Somethin's jest went wrong. They's times when I git mad and it all looks to be her fault, and then I ketch my own self startin' some hectorin' meanness. 'Tain't all her fault, and 'tain't all my fault. The whole sum and substance of it is that we can't git along with each other no more."
"So you calc'late to separate?"
"Been talkin' it up some."
"Marthy willin'?"
"Hain't neither of us willin'. We fix it up and agree to try over ag'in, and then, fust thing we know, we're right into the middle of another squabble. I want Marthy, and I guess Marthy wants me, but we want each other like we was five year back and not like we be now."
"Been married five year, hain't you?"
"Five year last April."
"Um!... Wa-al, I hope nothin' comes of it, Jed. But if it has to it will. Better live happy separate than unhappy together.... G'-by, Jed."
Scattergood did not discuss this problem with Mandy, his wife, as it was his custom to discuss business problems. He did not mention the young Lewises because the first rule of Mandy's life was "Mind your own business," and it irritated her beyond measure to see Scattergood poking his finger into every dish that offered. He did talk the matter over with Deacon Pettybone, but got little enlightenment for his pains.
"Don't seem natteral," Scattergood said, "f'r young folks to git to quarrelin' and bickerin' ontil life hain't endurable no longer. 'Tain't natteral a-tall. Somethin' must be all-fired wrong somewheres."
"It's human nature to quarrel," said the deacon, gloomily. "Nothin' onusual about it."
"Human nature," said Scattergood, "gits blamed f'r a heap of things that ought to be laid at the door of human cussedness."
"Same thing," said the deacon. "If you're human you're cussed. Used to be so in the Garden of Eden, and it'll keep on bein' so till Gabriel blows his final trump."
"'Tain't no more natteral to bicker than 'tis to have dispepsy. Quarrelin' and hectorin' hain't nothin' but a kind of dispepsy that attacks families instid of stummicks. In both cases it means somethin' is wrong."
"Can't cure a unhappy family with a dose of calomel," said the deacon, acidly.
"Hain't so sure. Bet that identical remedy' u'd fix up three out of ten. But somethin' else is wrong with them young Lewises. A dose of somethin' 'u'd cure 'em, if only a feller could figger out what 'twas."
"Might try soothin' syrup," said the deacon, with an ironic grin. "Sounds like it ought to git results.... Soothin' syrup—eh? Have to tell the boys that one. Soothin' syrup. Perty good f'r an old man. Don't call to mind makin' no joke like that f'r twenty year."
"Do it often, Deacon," said Scattergood, gravely. "You won't have to take so much sody followin' meals to sweeten you up.... G'-by, Deacon.... Soothin' syrup. Um!... I swanny...."
He looked across the square and saw that Pliny Pickett was delighting an audience with apochryphal reminiscences, doubtless of a gallant and spicy character. It is characteristic of Scattergood that he waited until Pliny had reached his climax, shot it off, and was doubled up with laughter at his own narration, before he lifted up his voice and summoned the stage driver.
"Hey, Pliny! Step over here a minute."
"Comin'," said Pliny, with alacrity. Then in an aside to his audience: "See that? Can't let an evenin' pass without a conference with me. Sets a heap of store by my judgment."
"Sets more store by your laigs," said Old Man Bogle. "They kin run errants, anyhow."
Pliny hastened across the square, and in careful imitation of Scattergood said, "Evening Scattergood."
"Evening Pliny. Flow of language good as usual to-night? Didn't meet with no trouble sayin' what you had to say?"
"Not a mite, Scattergood."
"Come through Bailey to-day?"
"Calculated to."
"Any news?"
"Nary."
"What's become of that What's-his-name baby you was a-tellin' about? The one that lost his ma and was bein' cared for by neighbors?"
"Nothin' hain't become of him. Calc'late he'll be took to a institution."
"Um! Likely-lookin' two-year-old, was he? Take note of any blemishes?"
"I hear tell by them that knows as how he was sound in wind and limb."
"Who's keepin' him, Pliny?"
"Mis' Patterson's sort of shuffled him in with her seven. Says she don't notice no difference to speak of. Claims 'tain't possible f'r eight childern to be no noisier 'n what seven be."
"Um!... G'-by, Pliny. Ever deal in facts over there to the post office? Ever have occasion to mention facts?"
"Er—notreg'larfacts, Scattergood. You needn't to worry about my talkin' too free."
"Seems like a feller that talks as much as you do wouldhaveto mention a fact once in a while. G'-by, Pliny."
It was two or three days later that Postmaster Pratt alluded again to Martha and Jed Lewis.
"They're gittin' wuss and wuss," he said, with some gratification. "Last night they was a rumpus you could 'a' heard forty mile. Ended up by him threatenin' to leave her, and by her tellin' him that if he didn't she'd lock him out of the house. Looks to me like that family fracas was about ripe to bust."
"Signs all p'int that way, Will. Too bad, hain't it? There's a reason f'r it, I calculate. Ever look f'r the reason, Will? Ever think about it at all?"
"Hain't had no time. Post office keeps me thinkin' night and day."
"Well, Ihave. Figgered a heap."
"Any results, Scattergood?"
"Some—some."
"What be they?"
Scattergood's eyes twinkled in the darkness. "I got it all figgered out," he said, "that them young folks needs a dose of soothin' syrup."
"I want to know," said the postmaster, breathlessly and with bewilderment. "Soothin' syrup! I swan to man!... Hain't been out in the heat, have you, Scattergood?"
Scattergood made no reply to this question. He merely waggled his head and said: "G'-by, Will. G'-by."
Next morning Scattergood walked past the Lewis place. He passed it three times before he made up his mind whether to go in or not, but finally he turned through the gate and walked around to the kitchen door. Inside he saw Martha ridding up the kitchen, not with a morning song on her lips, but wearing a sullen expression which sat ill on her fine New England face.
"Mornin', Marthy," he called.
She looked up and smiled suddenly. The change in her face was astonishing.
"Mornin', Mr. Baines. Set right down on the porch. ... Let me fetch you a hot cup of coffee. 'Twon't take but a minute to make."
"Can't stop," said Scattergood. "I was lookin' for Jed."
"Jed's gone," she replied, shortly, the sullen expression returning to her face. "'He won't be back 'fore noon."
"Uh-huh!... Wa-al, I calc'late I kin keep on drawin' my breath till then—if you kin. I call to mind the time when you was all-fired oneasy if Jed got away from you for six hours in a stretch."
"Them times is gone," she said, shortly.
"Shucks!" said Scattergood.
"They be," she said, fiercely. "Hain't no use tryin' to hide it. Jed and me is about through. Nothin' but fussin' and backbitin' and maneuvering'. He don't care f'r me no more like he used to, and—"
"You don't set sich a heap of store by him," Scattergood interrupted.
Martha hesitated. "I do," she said, slowly. "But I can't put up with it no more."
"Jed's fault—mostly," said Scattergood, as one speaks who utters an accepted fact.
"No more 'n mine," she said, with a sudden flash. "I dunno what's got into us, Mr. Baines, but we no sooner git into the same room than it commences. 'Tain't no-body's fault—it jestis."
"Um!... Kinder like to have things the way they used to be?"
"Oh, Mr. Baines!" Her eyes filled. "Them first two-three years! Jed was the best man a woman ever had."
"Hain't drinkin', is he?"
"Never touches a drop."
"Jest his nasty temper," said Scattergood, casually.
"No sich thing.... It's jest happened so. We can't git on, and I'm through tryin'. One of us is gain' to git out of this house. I've made up my mind." She started untying her apron. "I'm a-goin' right now. It'll be off'n my mind then, and I kin sort of git a fresh start. I'm goin' right now and pack."
"Kind of hasty, hain't you?... Now, Marthy, as a special favor to me I wish you'd stay, maybe two days more. I got a special reason. If you was to go this mornin' it 'u'd upset my plans. After Sattidy you kin do as you like, and maybe it's best you should part. But I do wisht you could see your way to stayin' till Sattidy."
"I don't see why, Mr. Baines, but if it'll be any good toyou, I'll do it. But not a minute after Sattidy—now mind that!"
"Much 'bleeged, Marthy. G'-by, Marthy. G'-by."
On Friday Scattergood was invisible in Coldriver village, for he had started away before dawn, driving his sway-backed horse over the mountain roads to the southward. He notified nobody of his going, unless it was Mandy, his wife, and even to her he did not make apparent his errand.
Before noon he was in Bailey and stopping before the small white house in which Mrs. Patterson managed by ingenuity to fit in a husband, a mother-in-law, an aged father, seven children of her own, the Conroy orphan, and a constantly changing number of cats. Nobody could have done it but Mrs. Patterson. The house resembled one of those puzzle boxes containing a number of curiously sawn pieces of wood, which, once removed, can be returned and fitted into place again only by some one who knows the secret.
Scattergood entered the house, remained upward of an hour, and then reappeared, followed by Mrs. Patterson, seven children, an old man, and an old woman—and in his arms was a baby whose lungs gave promise of a healthy manhood.
"Do this much, does he?" Scattergood asked, uneasily.
"Not more 'n most," said Mrs. Patterson.
"Um!... If he lets on to be hungry, what's the best thing to feed him up on? I got a bag of doughnuts and five-six sandriches and nigh on to half a apple pie in the buggy."
"Feed him them," said Mrs. Patterson, "and you'll be like to hear some real yellin'. What he's doin' now hain't nothin' but his objectin' to you a-carryin' him like he was a horse blanket.... You wait right there till I git a bottle of milk. And I'll fix you some sugar in a rag that you kin put into his mouth if he acts uneasy. It'll quiet him right off."
"Much 'bleeged. Hain't had much experience with young uns. Might's well start now. Bet me 'n this here one gits well acquainted 'fore we reach Coldriver."
"'Twouldn't s'prise me a mite," replied Mrs. Patterson, with something that might have been a twinkle in her tired eyes. "I almost feel I should go along with you."
"G'-by, Mrs. Patterson," said Scattergood, hastily, and he climbed into his buggy clumsily, placing the baby on the seat beside him, and holding it in place with his left arm. "G'-by."
The buggy rattled off. The baby hushed suddenly and began to look at the horse.
"Kind of come to your senses, eh?" said Scattergood. "Now you and me's goin' to git on fine if you jest keep your mouth shet. If you behave yourself proper I dunno but what I kin find a stick of candy f'r you when we git there."
Presently Scattergood looked down to find the baby asleep. He drove slowly and cautiously, whispering what commands he felt were indispensable to his horse. This delightful situation continued for upward of two hours, and Scattergood said to himself that folks who bothered about traveling with infants must be very easily worried.
"Jest as soon ride with this one clean to the Pacific coast," he said.
And then the baby awoke. It blinked and looked about it; it rubbed its eyes; it stared severely up at Scattergood; it opened its mouth tentatively, closed it again, and then—and then it uttered such an ear-piercing, long-drawn shriek that the old horse jumped with fright.
"Hey, there!" said the startled Scattergood. "Hey! what's ailin' you now?"
The baby closed his eyes, clenched his fists, kicked out with his legs, and gave himself up whole-heartedly to the exercise of his voice.
"Quit that," said Scattergood. "Now listen here; that hain't no way to behave. You won't git that candy—"
Louder and more piercing arose the baby's cries. Scattergood dropped the reins, lifted the baby to his knee, and jounced it up and down furiously, performing an act which he imagined to be singing, a thing he had heard was interesting and soothing to babies. It did not even attract this one's attention.
"Sufferin' heathen!" Scattergood said. "What in tunket was it that woman said I sh'u'd do? Hain't they no way of shuttin' him off? Look-ee here, young feller, you jest quit it.... B'jing! here's my watch. You kin listen to it tick."
The baby tried the watch on his toothless gums, found it not to his taste, and flung it from him with such vehemence that it would have suffered permanent injury but for the size and strength of the silver chain which attached it to Scattergood. The cries became more maddening. Scattergood was not hungry, so it did not occur to him that the infant might be thinking of food. He dandled it, he whistled, he sang, he pointed out the interesting attributes of his horse, and promised to direct attention to a rabbit or even a deer in a moment, but nothing availed. Perspiration was pouring down Scattergood's face, and his expression was that of a man who devoutly wishes he were far otherwise than he is.
Half an hour of this seemed to Scattergood like the length of a sizable day—and then he remembered the milk. Frantically he fished it out of the basket and thrust it toward the young person, who did with it what seemed right to him, and, with a gurgle of satisfaction, settled down to business. Scattergood sighed, wiped his forehead, and revised his opinion of folks who were worried at the prospect of travel with an infant.
The rest of that drive was a nightmare to Scattergood. When the baby yelled he was in torment. When the baby slept he was in torment lest he wake it, so that it would commence again to cry. He sweat cold and he sweat hot, and he wished wishes in his secret heart and blamed himself for many things—chief of which was that he had not brought Mandy along to bear the brunt of the adventure.
But at last, long after nightfall, with baby fast asleep, Scattergood drove into Coldriver by deserted and circuitous roads. He stopped his horse in a dark spot on the edge of the village, and, with the baby cautiously held in his arms, he slunk through back ways and short cuts to the house where Jed and Martha Lewis made their home. With meticulous stealth he passed through the gate, laid the baby on the doorstep, rang the bell long and determinedly, and then, with astonishing quiet and agility, hid himself in the midst of a clump of lilacs.
The door opened, and a light shone through upon the squirming bundle that lay upon the step. A tentative cry issued from the baby; a bass exclamation issued from Jed Lewis. "My Gawd! Marthy, somebody's left a baby here!"
Martha pushed past her husband and lifted the baby in her arms. She said no word, but Scattergood could see her press it close, and, in the light that came through the door, could see the expression of her face. It satisfied him.
"What we goin' to do with the doggone thing?" Jed demanded.
Martha pushed past him into the house, and he followed, wordless, closing the door after them.... Scattergood remained for some time, and then slunk away....
Postmaster Pratt gave the news to Scattergood in the morning.
"Somebody went and left a baby on to Jed Lewis's stoop last night," he declared. "Hain't nobody been able to identify it. Nary a mark nor a sign on to it no place. ... Whatever possessed anybody to leave a babythereof all places?"
"I want to know!" exclaimed Scattergood. "Girl er boy?"
"Boy, I'm told."
"What's Jed say?"
"Hain't sayin' much. Jest sets and kind of hangs on to his head, and every once in a while he gits up and looks at the baby and then goes back to holdin' his head."
"How about Marthy?"
"Marthy," said Postmaster Pratt. "I can't make out about Marthy, but I heard her a-singin' this mornin' 'fore breakfast. Fust time I heard her sing for more 'n a year."
"Might 'a' been singin' to the baby," Scattergood suggested.
"Naw, it was while she was gittin' breakfast. Jest the time she and Jed quarrels most powerful."
During the day all of Coldriver called to see the mysterious infant. Nobody could give a clue to its identity, and it was decided unanimously that it had been brought from a distance. As to the intentions of the Lewises regarding its disposition, they were noncommittal. It was universally accepted as fact, however, that the baby would be sent to an institution.
Thereupon Scattergood called upon the First Selectman.
"What's the town goin' to do about that baby?" he demanded. "Taxpayers'll be wantin' to know. Seems like the town's liable f'r its support."
"Calculate we be.... Calculate we be. I been figgerin' on what steps to take."
"Better go across to Jed's and notify 'em," said Scattergood. "They'll be expectin' you to take action prompt. I'll go 'long with you."
They walked down the street and rapped at the Lewises' door.
"Come on official business," said the First Selectman, pompously, to Jed, "connected with that there foundlin'."
Martha came hastily into the room. "What you want?" she demanded, in a dangerous voice.
"Come to tell you we would take that baby off'n your hands and send it to a institution. Git it ready, and we'll take it to-morrer."
"Take that baby!... Did you hear him, Jed Lewis? Did you hear that man say as how he was goin' to take away my baby?" She stumbled across the room to Jed and clutched the lapels of his coat. Scattergood noticed with some pleasure that Jed's arm went automatically about her waist. "Make 'em git out, Jed. Tell 'em they can't take this baby.... You want we should keep it, don't you, Jed?... We wanted one. You know how we wanted one.... You're goin' to let us keep it, hain't you, Jed?"
Jed put Martha aside gently and walked over to a makeshift crib in the corner, where the baby was asleep, where he stood for a moment looking down at it with a curious expression. Then he turned suddenly, strode to the door, opened it, and pointed. "Git!" he said to the First Selectman and Scattergood.
"Jed ... Jed ... darlin'," Martha cried, and as Scattergood passed out he saw from the corner of his eye that she was sobbing on her husband's hickory shirt and that he was patting her back with awkward gentleness.
"Looked a mite like Jed wanted we should go," said Scattergood.
"I'll have the law on to him. He'll be showed that he can't stand up to the First Selectman of this here town, I'll—"
"You'll go home and set down in the shade and cool off," said Scattergood, merrily, "and while you're a-coolin' you might sort of thank Gawd that there's sich things as human bein's with human feelin's, and that there's sich things as babies ...that sometimes gits themselves left on the right doorstep.... G'-by, Selectman. G'-by."
A week later Scattergood was passing the Lewis home early in the evening. In the side yard was a hammock under the trees which had been unoccupied this year past, but to-night it was occupied again. Martha was there with the baby against her breast, and Jed was there, his arm tightly about his wife, and one of the baby's hands lying on his calloused palm.... As Scattergood watched he saw Jed bend clumsily and kiss the tiny fingers ... and Martha turned a trifle and smiled up into her husband's eyes.
Scattergood passed on, blinking, perhaps because dust had gotten in his eyes. He stopped at the post office and spoke to Postmaster Pratt.
"Call to mind my speakin' of soothin' syrup and Jed Lewis and his wife?" he asked.
"Seems like I mind it, Scattergood."
"Jest walk past their house, Postmaster. Calc'late you'll see I figgered clost to right.... Marthy's a-sittin' there with Jed in the hammick, and they're a-holdin' on their lap the doggondest best soothin' syrup f'r man and wife that any doctor c'u'd perscribe.... Calculate it's one of them nature's remedies.... Go take a look, Postmaster.... G'-by."