"Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,Weak and wounded, sick and sore;Jesus ready stands to save you,Full of pity, love, and power.He is able,He is willing, doubt no more."
"Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,Weak and wounded, sick and sore;Jesus ready stands to save you,Full of pity, love, and power.He is able,He is willing, doubt no more."
"Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and power.
He is able,
He is willing, doubt no more."
He asked all those who wanted to repent of their sins and to seek pardon and peace to come forward to the altar while the congregation stood and sang that hymn.
The result was astonishing. In spite of the crowded condition of the room men and women pushed their way to the wooden benches called an "altar," and with tears and groans sought forgiveness. Decisions were made that night as lasting as eternity. Many a hardened backwoods sinner there forever forsook his evil ways and became an order-loving and respectable citizen, helping to form that civilization of which the Kentucky of today is so proud. Several moonshiners were convicted of the iniquity of their business, and gave up illicit distilling and their other bad practices. Among the rest was Long Tom. He sought the Lord with the simplicity of a little child. As he made no reservations, but at once confessed all his evil deeds, and was both wise and simple enough to accept Christ at his own terms of full surrender and childlike faith, he soon found pardon and peace. While he bowed at the altar the people sang "Jesus Lover of My Soul," and its sentiments comforted the sobbing man. The clearest voice which led in this hymn was that of Viola LeMonde.
At a testimony meeting a short time after he told of his experience: "Friends, I war a mighty ignorant feller when I come for'ard to that mourner's bench. I had not said a prayer for twenty years. I did not know how to begin. Then I thought of a prayer my mother larned me when I war a little chap. So I began saying, 'Our Father, who art in heaven,' and before I got through I war saved."
But while some were convicted of the error of their ways at that meeting, others were hardened; for such a meeting is either a savior of life unto life, or a savior of death unto death. Sam Wiles sat, as we have said, near the open door. During the first part of the discourse he followed the preacher closely and calmly; but when Jasper Very entered upon his philippic against the moonshiners in particular, an awful struggle began in Wiles' heart. God's Spirit acted strongly upon him, convincing his judgment that all the preacher said was true, that the whole business was bad from beginning to end, and that now, after he had such proofs among his own kin that death followed in its wake, he should forever abandon it. For a while it seemed as though his proud heart would yield, but there were tremendous influences on the other side. There was the love of his free and easy life which must be put in the scale. If he changed about he must endure the scoffs and reproaches of his former companions. Added to these was the awful tug of the habits and inclinations of his present life, and beyond all this was the personal temptation of the evil one whispering in his soul not to yield. If he did yield, said the tempter, he would soon fall away, and that would be worse than not to start at all.
Thus the crucial battle of his life was fought while Wiles sat in that little church. Such a struggle comes into many a life. Angels must look upon it with the deepest interest and attention. The crisis may arrive at church or at home, on the high sea or on the land, in a storied mansion or in a little cottage, at the midnight hour or in the open day—the place or time counts for little, but the result is as wide as eternity.
This hour was propitious for Sam Wiles. A proper choice would have revolutionized his character, would have gladdened the angels in heaven, and written his name deep in the "Book of Life." But alas! alas! before the sermon was ended he had resisted God's Holy Spirit, and, instead of one devil, seven devils had entered into his soul. A hard expression spread over his face, his eyes flashed with a dangerous fire, and he cast a look of defiance and contempt upon the speaker that (so subtle, strong, and swift are the laws of mind) Very, seeing it, would have been confused and perhaps overcome in his discourse if the shield of Almighty God had not protected him.
As for Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, the services had no more effect for good upon him than a strong fortress would be affected by shooting white beans at it. When his favorite business, illicit distilling, was denounced by Very, the dwarf's wrath grew so hot that he could not refrain from muttering under his breath: "I wish I could drown you uns and all yer pious hypercrits in whisky. Dat's my holt."
As the last hymn was being sung Sam Wiles left the church and walked out into the moonlight. He was joined by Turner and a few more of the clan. For a few minutes they held a whispered conversation, and then separated.
When the meeting broke up a half hour later, it was found that the girths on the horses belonging to the preachers, the Costello family and others had been cut and destroyed. Also the traces of Judge LeMonde's harness.
CHAPTER XII.
The Shameful Plot.
The moonlight showed a look of blank amazement and concern upon the faces of the victims of this dastardly trick, especially the women; but John Larkin's unfailing good temper and witty sayings relieved the situation. "There is no use crying over spilled milk," said he, "and I am sure, as Poor Richard remarks, 'God helps them that help themselves.' So we must find some way to remedy this trouble, for we cannot stand here gazing into the moon's face all night, and the distance to our homes is too great to walk. Let us look about among the trees, and perhaps we can find pieces of the girths and harness."
This was done, and presently several pieces were found. With these the traces of the carriage were repaired and a number of the saddles made fit for service. By some of the men riding double on horseback the mischief was tolerably mended and all returned to their lodgings in safety.
While one injury was being remedied another more serious was being planned. When Sam Wiles and Zibe Turner had cut the saddle girths and traces, they and three of their pals quickly mounted their horses and rode rapidly to Wiles' house. Arriving there they found the old folks and children in bed. Being afraid to talk over their infamous scheme in the cabin, they betook themselves to the barn some distance away. In this building they lighted a tallow dip and, throwing themselves down on some hay to rest and warm their bodies, they at once began talking of what was uppermost in their minds.
"Now fellers," said Wiles, "let us go over keerfully what we uns war sayin' as we rode along. That cursed preacher made a last break with me when he fit our bizness in such an all-fired strong way and throwed insults on my family. I say he oughter be punished for his sass in the way we spoke of."
"Sure nuff," broke in Turner, the monster dwarf, "tar and feathers and ridin' in a rail is too good fer de likes of him. If he got his just dues, we oughter lay for him some night and pick him off as he is ridin' hossback."
"We must not kill him," said the more cautious leader, "for they would 'spect us at once, and we would soon be put in de jug (jail), if they didn't make us stretch hemp without trial. But a good thick coat of tar and feathers will become his style of beauty fust-rate; and if we uns ride him on a rail, he will dance a jig with his feet in de air and will look more cute than ary Injun you uns ever see daubed with his war paint and feathers."
The five men laughed heartily at this remark, and seemed to anticipate with delight the fulfillment of their foul plot.
"We owe him a good one fer capturin' Long Tom and makin' him pious and an enemy of our bizness," said Bert Danks, captain of the Honey Crick band, "and I hope you uns won't be sparin' of de tar ner easy with de rail. Get one of them three-cornered hickory rails, and that'll do the thing up brown."
"Whar is de best place to s'prise him?" asked Wiles.
"I'll tell yer," spoke Zibe Turner, and his monkeyish face lit up with a smile almost diabolical and his piercing black eyes shot a keen and excited look into the group, "I hearn that he has an appintment next Chewsday night at de top of Bald Knob, and to go there from his home he will have to take de Pigeon Crick road, cross de crick at Farley's and then branch off inter de big woods before he climbs de knob. Now de level place jest by de foot of de knob is a lonely spot, away from de big road, de trees air mighty high and large, and few people pass that way. I say let's strip and dress him thar."
"Agreed!" shouted the rest in concert.
"Bert," spoke Wiles, "we'll look to you to git de tar, and I'll bring a pot from mammy's kitchen to heat it in. I'll also take without her knowin' it some feathers from her feather bed. You, Zibe, are to furnish de rail, and see that you git a sharp and strong one."
"'Pend on me for dat, and if he don't cry for marcy, it'll not be my fault."
As a parting caution Wiles remarked: "All you fellers keep mum on this subject, for we don't want to miss de fun ner be cotched in it."
Now it happened that Mose Williams, Judge LeMonde's most faithful negro servant, was attending to an affair of his own that Sunday evening not strictly demanded by his obligations to his master. In other words, he was courting a sprightly and good-looking quadroon girl, by name Euphemia Jackson ("Femy" for short). This buxom lass was a house servant on a plantation situated about five miles from Judge LeMonde's. What were five miles to a lusty young negro fellow who had a good pair of legs, a bracing atmosphere and bright moonlight in which to exercise them, and a sweetheart at the journey's end?
Mose, arrayed in his best clothes, had gone early and stayed late. He left the plantation happy with himself and all the world. For had he not that very night popped the all-important question and had not Femy given an answer which warmed the very depths of his darkey heart and made the face of nature shine with a double light? To shorten the distance home, as the hour was late and the bright moon threw some light even among the thick trees, he determined to take a footpath among the hills. This course led him close to the cabin of Simon Wiles, Sam Wiles' father. He was walking in a zigzag path, now watching the moonlight as it lilted down through the leafy canopy, making a dim but peaceful light around him; now listening to the sounds which exist in Kentucky forests in winter, the flight of nocturnal birds and moving of animals; seeing the raccoon crossing his track like a shadow in search of food; hearing the mournful hooting of owls in various directions.
Suddenly he was startled by seeing a light shining through the chinks of a building. At once Mose determined to discover its meaning. He had no fine-spun theories as to the wrong of eavesdropping. Besides, there might be robbers planning to steal neighbor Wiles' horse or produce. So he crept up to the barn, making so little noise that neither the watchful dogs nor the plotting men heard him.
He arrived in time to hear the conversation we have recorded. When he had learned all, he stealthily retraced his steps to the foot-path and, making a wide detour around the house, went on his way. While he walked he thus soliloquized: "Ho! Ho! dat's yo' game, is it? Well, dis niggah will try to spile yo' purty plan. But, Mose, ef yo' squeal on dem men an' dey hears about it, dey'll give yo' wusser t'ings dan tar an' fedders. Kain't help dat; mus' run de resk. Mas'r Very am mighty pop'lar wid de Jedge, and I believes dat Miss Viola am lookin' on him wid more'n common feelin's. Mose, yo's gwine to be a married man one of dese days yo'self, an' yo' wants a little cabin of yo' own; and ef yo' hoe dis row to de end an' circumwent dese 'spiring men, p'haps Mas'r LeMonde gwine give yo' de cabin an' Miss Viola gwine put lots o' nice tings in it. Dat's de proposition; an', Mose, yo' got to keep yo' wooly head mighty cool an' calc'lating. Chewsday will soon be hyar, an' what is done mus' be done in a hurry. It's a pity de Jedge an' Mas'r George is gwine to start early to Lexinton tomorrer, so dey can't 'tend to de mattah; but I'll jes inform Miss Viola of de situwation."
When the slave had reached this wise and satisfactory conclusion he had also reached the end of his journey, and with much self-complacency retired to his humble cot to dream of his dusky sweetheart.
Early the next morning Mose called at the mansion to see Miss Viola, telling her that he had "sumpin' of special 'portance" to make known. For the sake of privacy, she took him into the large drawing-room and, seating herself in that beautiful bay window overlooking the stately lawn and the broad cornfield now shining white under their coverlet of snow and farther on the lovely river, she beckoned him to proceed. With much earnestness and an air of importance he related what he had heard at the barn the night before.
Mose was so absorbed in his recital that he did not notice the full effects of his words on his mistress. As his story continued, a great change came over her. Her breathing quickened until it came in short and labored gasps. First a deeper color of red suffused her cheeks, then a crimson overspread her face and neck, which was soon followed by a paleness which marked her face with an ashen hue. How that poor heart was troubled! Now its violent beatings force the hot blood to face and hands and feet; then with the cruel news it takes into itself the torrid currents of blood, leaving the face and extremities cold and bloodless and a feeling of suffocation in the lungs. By a supreme effort of will, which God has made sovereign over the emotions, she calmed her beating heart and considered what was best to be done.
"Mose, you are quite sure you have told me all you heard?"
"Yes, Miss Viola, I is, kase de wo'ds made such a 'pression on mah mind dat I 'members dem zackly."
"You are certain they selected Tuesday night for their wicked acts?"
"Dey spoke of Chewsday night, and tuk it bekase Mas'r Very is to go dat way dat night."
"You can leave me now for an hour, but at eight o'clock come back and I will send by you a message to Mr. Very."
When the negro had left, Viola LeMonde retired to her own room and seating herself at her writing desk, wrote the following communication:
"Mount Pisgah, January 6, 181—.The Rev. Jasper Very,Dear Mr. Very:Our servant, Mose Williams, has just made known to me a plot which some base men have devised to treat you with indignity and to bring the cause of religion into contempt. Mose was returning home late last night from Mr. St. Claire's plantation when, seeing a light in Simon Wiles' barn, he crept near and, looking through a chink in the wall, saw Sam Wiles, Bert Danks, Zibe Turner, and two other men lying on some hay. He overheard them planning to administer to Rev. Jasper Very a coat of tar and feathers and to complete the performance by riding him on a rail. This disgraceful act is to take place next Tuesday night. The spot is that dark and unfrequented place at the foot of Bald Knob through which you must pass on the way to your preaching service."As 'to be forewarned is to be forearmed,' I hasten to notify you of the plot, feeling sure you will adopt measures to thwart it. Father and George would aid you in the matter but they went early this morning to Lexington, and will not return till Wednesday evening."I feel that I am able to do little in such an emergency as this; but if I can be of any help, I will most gladly endeavor to preserve the respect of our community and to assist a friend."No one knows of this plot except the instigators, myself, and Mose. By him I send this note to you.Most sincerely yours,Viola LeMonde."
"Mount Pisgah, January 6, 181—.
The Rev. Jasper Very,
Dear Mr. Very:
Our servant, Mose Williams, has just made known to me a plot which some base men have devised to treat you with indignity and to bring the cause of religion into contempt. Mose was returning home late last night from Mr. St. Claire's plantation when, seeing a light in Simon Wiles' barn, he crept near and, looking through a chink in the wall, saw Sam Wiles, Bert Danks, Zibe Turner, and two other men lying on some hay. He overheard them planning to administer to Rev. Jasper Very a coat of tar and feathers and to complete the performance by riding him on a rail. This disgraceful act is to take place next Tuesday night. The spot is that dark and unfrequented place at the foot of Bald Knob through which you must pass on the way to your preaching service.
"As 'to be forewarned is to be forearmed,' I hasten to notify you of the plot, feeling sure you will adopt measures to thwart it. Father and George would aid you in the matter but they went early this morning to Lexington, and will not return till Wednesday evening.
"I feel that I am able to do little in such an emergency as this; but if I can be of any help, I will most gladly endeavor to preserve the respect of our community and to assist a friend.
"No one knows of this plot except the instigators, myself, and Mose. By him I send this note to you.
Most sincerely yours,
Viola LeMonde."
At eight o'clock Mose made his appearance, and Viola gave him the message, telling him to ride Velox as fast as possible to Mr. Nebeker's tavern, where Mr. Very had spent the night, and to give it to the preacher.
Mose was doubly willing that the news should get to the parson by means of the note; for if trouble came his way, he could swear that he did not inform Very of the plot; and, secondly, he thought Viola would be pleased to help the preacher.
Jasper Very was still at the home of the tavern keeper, as were also several other preachers, including the "square man," John Larkin. Jasper was standing on the porch, and was surprised to see the colored man riding up fast to the house, his horse wet with sweat and steaming in the wintry air.
Mose, dismounting, lifted his cap to those present, and said to Jasper Very: "I has a message of 'portance to you, sir." With this he handed him the note, and then, on request of Mr. Nebeker, put Velox in the barn to cool off and rest.
Jasper Very took the missive to the end of the porch and, breaking the seal, read it. When he had finished, his mobile face showed the conflicting emotions within. A flush of anger reddened his dark features, his lips were pressed close together, his eyes flashed with unwonted fire, and his hands involuntarily became clenched until the finger nails indented the palms. Soon his look softened, the fire left his eyes, and they appeared as gentle as twin lakes in lovely Switzerland. The proud lines in his lips gave place to a curve like a Cupid's bow and a smile lighted up his face. Looking out over the wintry landscape, he said to himself: "It is worth the danger of an attack like this to receive such a note from Viola LeMonde. How kind and thoughtful of her to warn me of the plot so quickly. I will see how best I can circumvent this scheme." With these reflections he retraced his steps to his friends.
In the meantime the pity which Viola LeMonde felt for the preacher did not tend to weaken that strange sensation, born in Eden, which was tugging at her heart.
CHAPTER XIII.
Into a Pit (or Pitch).
Jasper very addressed Costello Nebeker, the tavern keeper, thus: "Brother Nebeker, I have a matter of importance to consider with you and a few friends. Can you furnish us with a private room?"
"Certainly, Brother Very," replied his genial host. "You can have the sitting-room, just back of our large reception-room." (The dance hall had been changed into these two rooms.)
In a few minutes a select company was gathered there. It consisted of Jasper Very, John Larkin, Ezra Thompson, the old, grizzled preacher, Nathaniel Grimes, a smart minister who formerly had been a lawyer, Costello Nebeker, and his wife. Jasper Very read Viola LeMonde's note to the group, and striking was the effect it produced. One cried, "The despicable villains!" another, "The vile sinners." a third, "Shame on Kentucky manhood, to what depths can humanity sink!" For once John Larkin could not find a quotation from Poor Richard or any other source which met the case. But soon surprise and indignation gave way to a cool consideration of the situation and the best means of circumventing this well-laid plot and bringing its instigators to punishment.
Very was the first to offer a suggestion. "Friends," he said, "let us call Mose into the room and hear in detail his account of what he overheard." This was thought good advice, and accordingly Mose was invited into the sitting-room.
At first the cautious darkey was loath to commit himself; but when he was informed that Miss LeMonde already had told the tale in substance and that all present, would keep secret his remarks, he repeated what he had seen and heard with more fullness than we have written down.
After Mose had been dismissed, Nathaniel Grimes, the lawyer-preacher, spoke in these words: "I believe I have a plan by which this plot can be frustrated. It is this: Let Brother Very prepare for his journey tomorrow as though nothing unusual was expected; let us notify two or more constables to enter the woods from a different direction just after dark tomorrow evening, and at a convenient distance from where the plotters post themselves behind great trees. Let Friend Nebeker, Brother Larkin, and myself steal into the woods as best we can and join the constables in season. At the proper time let Brother Very ride slowly along, and when he is met by the ruffians and the parley takes place, we will suddenly rush upon the scene and capture them in their base act."
The plan was discussed for some time and, being found simple and practicable, was adopted. Costello Nebeker was to engage the services of the constables. Being a layman, he could do so without exciting suspicion.
Tuesday evening the sky was partly covered with clouds. About the time Jasper Very started from his home the moon rose in beauty. Sometimes she threw the full glory of her beams upon the white earth as she rode in a clear place in the heavens; at others her light was obscured by passing clouds which covered her fair face. We can follow the gospel ranger as he left his humble boarding place.
Mounted on trustworthy Bob, Jasper Very started to his appointment. He turned his horse's head toward the east and rode for half a mile along a farm road when, coming to a gate, he opened it and came into a broader county road. Just opposite this gate stood the immense barn on Judge LeMonde's estate, in which was stored his hay and grain and in which were kept his many horses. Up a gradual ascent a few hundred feet beyond stood the Judge's mansion. The man of God gazed upon it as its outlines were visible in the moonlight. He thought of the fair daughter who lived there and who had taken such an interest in his welfare. Was it fact or fancy which showed him a female figure dressed in white standing by the west bay window? The distance was too great to see clearly; but perhaps that intercommunication of minds which in later times we call telepathy was the thing which caused his heart to beat with a stronger stroke and fired his spirit with greater courage.
Yes, there was a woman's form standing at that window. Viola was watching for Jasper to pass along. Her white face was pressed against the window pane, and she strained her eyes to see. Her effort was rewarded, for she could well perceive the outline of horse and man as they went along the road. Although Jasper had sent a reply to her note by Moses, thanking her for her interest in his welfare and telling her of the conference at the tavern, with a woman's supersensitiveness she was most anxious as to the result; and as she saw him ride away into danger, she put her hand to her heart and, raising her eyes to heaven, prayed most fervently that he might be protected from harm.
Jasper Very proceeded on his way along the country road. Soon he passed the little schoolhouse on his right, then Bethlehem Church on his left. Next he crossed the rude bridge spanning the brook, and rode on a half mile farther. Leaving the large road, he turned to the left, going northwest through the deep woods toward the base of Bald Knob.
As he neared the spot selected for the attack he heard faint whistles on both sides of the road which were signals before agreed upon that his aids were present. Passing along to the place where he knew the outlaws were concealed, he began singing a camp meeting hymn.
Suddenly the ruffians sprang from the roadside, one seizing his horse's bridle, who proved to be Bert Danks.
"Good evenin', parson, you uns seem to be in a happy frame of mind, or air ye singin' to keep yer courage up?" The speaker was Sam Wiles, who was holding his right boot.
"Much courage is not needed when a man is among friends or cowards, and you must be one or the other," replied Very.
"We'll show yer what sort of friends we air," spoke up Zibe Turner; "so jest obleege we uns by gittin' down off'n that 'er hoss, or we'll help yer down."
"I have an engagement up the knob tonight, and I have not time to tarry with you now," said the preacher.
"Well, parson, we uns have fixed up a leetle meetin' on our own account, and there ain't much singin' nor prayin' in it, nuther. I reckon we'll pay yer back for tryin' to spile our bizness and hurt our reputations. If you won't come down far (fair), we uns must help yer off," growled Turner.
"Men, I seem to be in your power, and surely I would rather dismount of my own accord than be pulled off." With these words Very threw his foot over Bob's back and lighted on the ground.
Instantly he was surrounded by Wiles, Turner, and two other ruffians. Bert Danks still held Bob by the bit.
Very looked about him as best he could, and saw a smouldering fire beneath a large pot. In this pot was a large quantity of tar which had been somewhat heated to soften it, and close by lay a gunny bag containing feathers, while still beyond was a long fence rail which had been taken from a zigzag fence not far away.
"Now, if you'll be so kind, please take off yer preacher's coat and shirt; and if you find de weather too cold for comfort, we uns will put on anudder coat which will keep out de air," remarked Wiles.
"A matter of necessity need not be discussed," said the traveler, and with this remark he pulled off his long clerical outer garment.
Very did this for a double purpose: first, to free himself from incumbrance when he needed to use his arms; and, secondly, by removing suspicion of resistance, to take his enemies off their guard.
No sooner had he slipped his coat off than he gave a loud whistle, and shooting out his right fist with all his strength, struck Wiles squarely on the jaw and sent him sprawling on the ground several feet away. This was the beginning of a strenuous fight. The moment his chief was knocked down Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, sprang upon Very, and putting one of his apelike arms around his neck, cried: "Dat's my holt." With the other arm he began hitting the parson about the head and body. At the same time the other men were trying to throw him off his feet. Very, knowing help was near at hand, made almost superhuman efforts to stand his ground, though he was half suffocated and stunned by the dwarf's hug and blows.
Very's whistle was answered by a shout down the road, and almost instantly the forms of five men appeared. The outlaws, though surprised, were not panic-stricken, and they met the attack of the constables and preachers with reckless bravery. For a quarter of an hour things were in a strange mix-up. Wiles, rising from the ground, was making for Very, when a burly constable hurrying up caught the outlaw and together they fell squirming, rolling, twisting, fighting over the ground.
Another officer made a break for Bert Danks. Letting go of Bob's bridle, he clenched with his man, and they were fighting like two possessed. Nathaniel Grimes, the great red-headed, raw-boned, lawyer-preacher, was as good in a fight as in an argument and, striking one of the ruffians, gave a good account of himself. John Larkin had to try conclusions with another culprit, and they were at it, give and take, like the rest. In like manner Nebeker did his part.
The officer of the law who grappled with Sam Wiles was one of the strongest men in the county and, despite Wiles' prowess and desperate fighting, the constable soon had him mastered and clapped handcuffs on him.
In the meantime Jasper Very and the monster dwarf were having an interesting combat. Turner would not relax his hold upon his adversary in spite of all he could do. His grip on his throat was like a coil of the cobra de capello. At first Very was at the mercy of the dwarf; and if things had gone on this way a little longer serious consequences would have come to the preacher. Though he was half choked by the other's arm, Very, summoning all his strength, took hold of his antagonists's arm and pulled it from his throat. Then, lifting his enemy in his arms, he threw him with violence from him. Very was not particular in which direction the ugly man should go nor the spot on which he should alight. The fates decreed a bitter punishment, for the dwarf came plump into the pot of warm tar which had been prepared for the preacher. Turner was wedged in the pot, so that he could not extricate himself, and meantime the thick fluid beneath was making a warm acquaintance with his trousers and legs. This unlooked-for disgrace and undoing of the two leaders brought the pitched battle to a close. The unknown rascals, having broken away from their antagonists and seeing the discomfiture of their chiefs, fled up the knob road, while the three principals, Wiles, Turner, Danks, were taken into custody.
The scene closes with John Larkin, a broad smile on his face, looking at the disconsolate Turner and saying: "He digged a pit, and is fallen into the ditch which he made."
CHAPTER XIV.
Returning Thanks.
The captors of these outlaws were more merciful than the rowdies, for Nathaniel Grimes went to a farmhouse not far away and borrowed some clothes to replace those tar-besmeared which Turner had on. When he had changed his garments the two constables and Nebeker conducted the prisoners on horseback to the county seat where they were locked up in jail.
In the meantime Jasper Very, John Larkin, and Nathaniel Grimes mounted their horses and made their way up Bald Knob to a little meetinghouse on its top where services were to be held. Very's encounter with the outlaws had made him late in reaching the church, which caused some surprise to those who had assembled, for they knew their pastor to be a very punctual man. However, he thought it best not to mention the cause of his delay. Simply remarking that he was unavoidably detained, he began the services.
Early the next morning our three friends started down the knob, Jasper Very to go to Judge LeMonde's house personally to thank Miss Viola for her part in helping him to avoid the trap set for him, and Larkin and Grimes to ride about fifteen miles down the river road to keep an engagement to preach that night at a small hamlet called Bridgewater.
When Jasper Very dismounted at Judge LeMonde's barn gate, he was met by Mose Williams, who burst forth with loud and eager words: "Hi! Hi! Mas'r Very, ah knows dat yo' circumwented dem villians. Yo' don't ketch dis coon nappin'. I war a-layin' low las' night to see de outcome of dat amberscade, an' ah seed wid mah own eyes dat yo' won out."
"What did you see, Mose, and how did you see it?" asked the preacher.
"Ah war a-hidin' behin' de upper big post of de barn gate, an' ah hearn hosses' hoofs beatin' up de road, an' soon de constables cum along wid de prisoners. Wa'n't dem moonshiners mad, do? Jes' as dey war 'proaching de gate Sam Wiles said: 'Dat cantin' preacher has got me 'rested twice now, but he won't do it ag'in. Ah'll die 'fore ah'll let him beat me 'n'ur time.' An' den dat monkey, Zibe Turner, fell to cussin' yo' an' de constables an' de Jedge an' all de ch'ch people permiscus. He said, ef he knew de rascal what giv' de plot away, he would skin 'im alive an' hang up his skin in his back yard to skeer away de ghosts. He swore sich drefful oaths ah was afeered de trees by de roadside was gwine to fall on 'em. He mad mah blood run col', an' ah war pow'ful glad he didn't 'spect me."
"Well, Mose, you are safe for the present anyway, for these wicked men will be tried in court soon, and they will be sent to jail for quite a while. Now put my horse in a stall, for I am going to make a call at the big house."
Saying this, Jasper Very handed his bridle to Mose, and also gave him two bits in silver. He then passed through a second gate and walked toward the mansion, which was some two hundred yards distant. When he got near the door, Sport, king of all Judge LeMonde's hunting dogs, came bounding toward him, loudly barking. This great animal was dangerous to strangers but, knowing Very, he came up to him and licked his hand with his red tongue. Very spoke to him and admired his noble form—his high forehead, intelligent eyes, wide nostrils, deep chest, long yellow body, slim but muscular legs—then walked on to the front piazza and rang the doorbell.
While he is waiting there let us take a peep inside. Miss Viola LeMonde, by a law of mind not yet explained, had a premonition that a certain clergyman would visit her that morning. So she had a particular care as to her apparel. She called her faithful maidservant Nora to bring her a white dress, which had a faint shade of blue mixed with the white. This gown, which exactly fitted her shapely figure, she put on, and around her neck and wrists she placed soft and delicate ruching. Then she went to the flower conservatory and selecting a deep-red rosebud, placed it against some dark green leaves and pinned it to her dress. Her hair was formed at the back in a large knot of gold, while over her beautiful brows it was brushed smooth, giving her a look like a Madonna.
When Very rang the bell Viola was in the sitting-room to the right of the hall. Nora opened the door and invited him into the drawing-room at the left of the hall. With a perversity which no mere man understands, and we suppose is unaccountable to woman's mind, Viola would not at once greet the minister, but laid that duty upon her mother. In a minute or two Madame LeMonde, a stately dame in form and mien, worthy of the position she occupied, walked into the room and cordially shook hands with Mr. Very. "I am glad to see you this fine morning, Mr. Very," she said. "Did you escape the base designs of those wicked men last night! Viola told me of the plot they had laid to do you harm. I am sorry that my husband and son were away, that they could not help you in your need."
"Yes, Mrs. LeMonde, thanks to the timely warning that your good daughter sent me, I was able to thwart their evil purposes; and at this moment the ringleaders, Sam Wiles, Zibe Turner, and Harve Davis are in the county jail. I have called personally to thank your daughter for her kindness to me. Is she at home this morning?"
"She is, Mr. Very, and if you will excuse me, I will send her into the room."
By this time Viola had brought her perverse little heart into harmony with her real wish and, having quieted her nerves by a strong effort of will, she was ready to heed her mother's summons to enter the drawing-room. As she stepped across the threshold there was a moment of embarrassment during which neither spoke; but it was only for a moment, Jasper Very being too full of gratitude to remain long silent. "Miss Viola," he said, grasping her hand, "I have come this morning to thank you for your great kindness in apprising me of Sam Wiles' plot to injure me. I am under a thousand obligations to you for what you did."
"Do not speak of that, Mr. Very; it was a thing any friend would have done. But tell me whether or not you escaped from their intentions without any injury to yourself."
"Yes, thanks to your promptness, I was able to enlist some friends on my behalf, and with them and some officers of the law we were able to outwit the ruffians and beat them at their own game." He then laid before her in detail the events of the past night.
Viola listened with closest attention to the narrative. When Jasper spoke of being surrounded by the outlaws and their threats, the color left her cheeks; but when he told how their enemies were overcome and the ludricrous predicament of Turner as he sat in the pot of tar, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, which was followed by a hearty laugh. However, her mood soon changed, and with a serious look coming into her blue eyes she said: "I am sure those moonshiners are a menace to our community. They are becoming more and more hardened and reckless. I fear that they will yet do some of us great injury. They doubtless hate papa, who has to sentence them to prison, and they are foes of all order-loving men and women in this region. As to Sam Wiles, I cannot bear to be near him. His very presence repels and frightens me. When he looked at me in church last Sunday night, I shuddered. It seemed as though a venomous snake had put its folds around my neck. Zibe Turner, called the monster dwarf, seems to me to be almost less than human. He combines the ferocity of the tiger, the slyness of the fox, and the shape of a monkey. I am doubly alarmed when he is near."
"This is the natural recoil of virtue away from vice," said Jasper Very. "God has given to woman an intuitive sense which, without any long process of reasoning, shows her when a man is bad. It is her protection against his greater strength. It is the Almighty's gift to her, and is beyond the value of rubies. If she will use it, she need never be deceived as to a man's inner character."
"I suppose that is why we women can trust some people from the moment we see them and are suspicions of others from the very first."
"Undoubtedly it is; and all women should beware of men whose persons, looks, or acts repel that fine discriminating sense within them. Every man should ask himself the question: 'Have I sufficient moral integrity and nobility to pass muster before the eyes of a pure-minded woman!' If he can say 'Yes' to this, he is to be congratulated."
"I am afraid most men are so self-sufficient that they think the other sex is blind to their faults, and will tolerate and cling to them whether or not."
"They may think so when they reflect only lightly; but when they consider deeply, they know that they can receive the respect of good women only when they are worthy of it. This should stimulate them to be knightly in character—pure, true, gentle, kind, brave, thoroughly good."
"I am glad you have such a high ideal, and trust you will live up to it. If so, you will be my Sir Knight, to lead me to Uncle Pete's cabin. His little girl is down with the measles, and I have promised to act as doctor and nurse for the poor child."
"I will be happy to act as your humble servant on this errand of mercy. In the meantime I wish to get your consent to go with me in a buggy to Mount Zion meeting-house next Friday. An all-day meeting is to be held there, and I am to preach in the morning. I desire the help of your voice in the singing. We can return in the afternoon. What do you say?"
"If mamma gives permission, I shall gladly go; but let us proceed now to the quarters, and you shall comfort the soul of the mother while I try to help the girl's body."
CHAPTER XV.
Cupid's Chariot.
A one-seated buggy is Cupid's most formidable chariot. It beats an automobile farther than we can say. An automobile is an intricate piece of machinery and the driver, if he is of the right kind, will exercise the greatest care. He must look well to his steering, must diligently examine the road as he passes along to avoid obstructions, ruts and broken pieces of glass, and especially is it necessary for him to keep his car from colliding with other machines. This divides his attention and interferes very much with freedom of conversation, and that mutual joy which comes from undisturbed companionship.
As to guiding the wheel with one hand and stealing the other around the waist of a fair companion, if it were allowed by the moral law, it is prohibited by state regulation. The procedure is often dangerous in more senses than one.
But riding in a buggy is different. There is just enough attention required in driving to relieve awkwardness. If a country bumpkin is seated by his best girl, and can speak only in monosyllables, and those few and far between, he can at least say to his horse: "Git ep." If his hands are so big, red and rough that he is ashamed of them, they can by holding reins and whip pass muster. His cowhide boots, shining with bear's grease or lard, can be hidden under the buggy robe.
When a young man takes the young lady of his choice for a drive, he feels a sort of proprietorship in her. He has her company all to himself. With this sensation comes another of responsibility. He must protect her from all harm and look well to her comfort. He wraps her up carefully in the thick robe, which he bought last week at the county seat, paying a half month's wages for it. He shields her from the least cold, when perhaps that very morning she has hung out a wash in her mother's yard with the temperature about zero.
When Friday morning came round Jasper Very came with it. He drove his faithful Bob, hitched to a new buggy, in front of Judge LeMonde's imposing mansion.
Presently Viola appeared, her outside wrap being a heavy beaver cloak which buttoned under her chin and reached nearly to the ground. Upon her head she wore a hat corresponding in color with her cloak. The somber hue of the hat was relieved only by a band and knot of blue ribbon; for in those days feathers and flowers were not allowed. However, she needed no outside ornament to increase her beauty. Her cheeks were red as roses as they were touched by the sharp wintry air; her eyes shone bright and clear with the look of perfect health.
Jasper Very assisted her into the vehicle and jumping in himself adjusted the heavy lap robe about them both. He spoke to Bob and they were off. Nora, the servant, with a laugh called after them: "How nice yo' look riding togedder. 'Pears like yo' made fo' each odder." Viola shook her hand at the girl, but did not seem much displeased. They went down a private way to the big gate opening on the county road and, soon striking the river road, turned to the left in an opposite direction from that which Larkin and Grimes had taken.
For a while they were a bit embarrassed, for this was the first time they had ridden in a buggy together. They confined their remarks to the weather, the bad roads, the Casey old maids (whose house they passed), the swollen Cumberland River, and other small talk. However, this constraint soon passed and they began chatting and laughing in a natural and pleasant way.
"Mr. Very," said Viola, "I want you to tell me about the adventure you had on a ferry boat, to which John Larkin referred the last time I saw him."
"That was one of the strangest experiences of my life," replied Jasper. "A couple of years ago, before coming to this region, some of my friends wanted me to run for the office of representative to the State Legislature. I did not much like the idea of ministers being put forward for political office; but, thinking if elected I might do some good at Frankfort, I consented to be a candidate. One day on my electioneering tour I was wanting to cross the river on a ferryboat, and was passing through some underbrush and woods near the embarking place when I heard some one say: 'That Jasper Very is a great rascal and so are all his preacher friends. They will steal horses and do other mean things. It is a scandal to the county that such a man as Very should be put up to run for office and the first time I see him I intend to whip him for his impudence.' This surprised me a little, and I tried to find another way of reaching the boat without passing these men; but the underbrush was so thick I had to go that way. I summoned up all my courage and rode up. There were six men talking together. I said: 'Gentlemen, who is the man among you who is going to whip Very the first time he sees him?' The man who had made the threat spoke out and said: 'I am the lark that's going to thrash him well.' Said I: 'Very is known to be much of a man, and it will take a man to whip him, mind you.' 'O no,' said he, 'I can whip any such preacher the Lord ever made!' 'Well, sir,' said I, 'you cannot do it. My name is Very and, as I never like to live in dread, if you really intend to whip me, come and do it now.' He looked confused, and said: 'Oh, you can't fool me that way. You are not Very.' 'Well,' said I, 'that is my name, and now is your time. If you must whip me do it now.' He said: 'No, no, you are not Very at all; you only want to fool me.' By this time we had got into the boat and he began again cursing Very. I said to a gentleman: 'Please hold my horse,' and stepping up to the cursing disciple said sternly to him: 'Now sir, you have to whip me as you threatened or quit cursing me, or I will put you in the river and baptize you in the name of the devil, for you surely belong to him.' This settled him and, strange to say, when election day came he voted for me, and has been my friend ever since."
"I am glad he learned such a needed and salutary lesson," said Viola. "I have heard my father say that a braggart is generally a coward. My mind commends your course, Mr. Very, of walking boldly up to danger and daring it to do its worst; but my woman's heart shrinks from the presence of peril."
"Merely to think upon danger makes you and most women timid; but when the reality comes I believe your sex is as brave as mine. In many encounters with rough and wicked men in the wilderness I have found that a bold front is the best way to avoid evils which threaten. A brave word, backed by a good cause, often disarms an adversary."
Thus with anecdote, comment, and talk of church work they rode along, their acquaintanceship increasing, and each, scarcely conscious of the act, looking into each other's heart to find there its thoughts and feelings.
When they had approached within a half mile of Shiloh meeting house, their destination, Jasper said: "Miss Viola, you remember I requested you to sing at this coming service. Perhaps you expected to join your voice only with that of the congregation, but I want you to favor us with a solo before I rise to preach. It will be something new at Shiloh, but all the more impressive for that. The other evening I heard you sing in your drawing-room that inspiring hymn: