CHAPTER XIXJERRY, ME PARDNERIt was late when Abner awoke the next morning. This was a most unusual thing for him, and he felt annoyed at himself as he hurriedly dressed and hastened downstairs. The house seemed to be deserted. He glanced at the clock, and was surprised to find that it was a quarter to nine. His breakfast was all ready on the table, but no one was to be seen. A copy ofThe Live Wirelying by his plate arrested his attention."Some class to this," he remarked, half aloud, as he unfolded the paper. "Jist like a hotel; breakfast waitin', an' the mornin' paper right at hand. Reg'lar Waldorf-Astoria style. Hello! what in time——!"His eyes had caught sight of the big headlines, and he saw his own name prominently displayed along with Joe Preston's. It was a great write-up, and Abner read it through to the bitter end. It told of his savage attack upon the editor, how he looked and acted, and of his arrest and confinement in jail. Then followed a description of his life's history, which ended by saying that he had been looked upon as dangerous for some time. It was really believed by many that, owing to his peculiar actions, he was not altogether in his right mind. The incident of his offering one thousand dollars toward the Orphanage was mentioned, and how he did not have enough money to pay even five dollars, let alone the whole amount. Not a word was said in his favor. He was painted in the darkest colors, and it was suggested that he should either be placed in the Asylum as a lunatic, or in the Penitentiary as a most dangerous character.A peculiar expression overspread Abner's face as he finished reading. He laid the paper aside and began his breakfast. When he was through, he filled his pipe and walked out of the house. The rain had ceased in the night, but the air was damp and heavy. It was a gloomy morning, and accorded perfectly with the state of his mind. He heard the voices of the children in the barn and knew that the girls were with them. It was the best place to play on a day such as this. He had no mind to join them, as he wished to be alone in order to think.He stood for a few minutes near the woodshed, looking down upon the river, over which drifted a heavy mist. He longed to be out there in the Flying Scud, away from all land-lubbers. It was the life to which he was especially fitted. Picking up his axe, which was lying by the chopping-block, he threw it over his shoulder and walked rapidly toward the shore. There was considerable drift-wood to be gathered, and he generally spent wet days at this work. He needed something to do, and in wrestling with the roots, logs, and blocks he could give physical vent to his pent-up feelings.His row-boat was pulled up on the beach, and his small canoe, used for muskrat and duck shooting, was lying bottom up among the bushes. He was tempted to launch the latter, cross to the island and spend the day there. Any place was preferable to remaining near home where he knew that ere long he must submit to a regular bombardment of questions. He wondered what had become of his wife. It was a most unusual thing for her to be absent from home at this time of the morning. He could see the house plainly from where he stood on the shore, and he occasionally turned and looked in that direction. Abner was well aware that he should go to town for Jerry, but he was in no mood for the long walk over the muddy roads. He would need the horse for haying as soon as the weather cleared."Confound it all!" he growled. "I don't want to see that town agin fer a long time. I'm sick of it. Why can't people leave me alone, anyway? They'll all read that piece in the paper, an' they'll think I'm the biggest villain on the face of the hull earth. I wonder how Zeb would act if he'd been rubbed the wrong way most of his life sich as I have. Peaceful ancestors, be blowed!"In order to express his feelings he started to work, and every blow of the axe was not only upon log or block, but upon his enemies. This violent exercise did him a great deal of good, and he mentally compared the joy of being in the fresh air with the stuffy and unsavory jail.After an hour of such work he felt in a better frame of mind. He had put all of his enemies to flight and was the victor. There was joy in the feeling, and his face wore a more benign expression when he at length paused, seated himself upon a log, and began to re-fill his pipe. He thus sat looking out over the water, thinking of his previous day's experiences, and of what Zeb had to say about his peaceful ancestors. At times he felt that his neighbor was right, but the spirits of his war-like ancestors had been with him for so long that he found it most difficult to rid himself of their influence."It's a darn hard thing to shake off old friends," he muttered. "It's 'specially hard when ye'r in sympathy with 'em, an' want to do jist as they did. They've stood by me fer many a year now, an' their words an' actions have allus jibed with mine. I wonder if me peaceful ancestors will see eye to eye with me. That's the pint Zeb didn't take into consideration. If I've got to trim me sails to their gentle actions I'm afraid I'll land in the lunatic asylum fer sure."He was aroused from his meditation by a step behind him, and looking quickly around, he saw a man approaching but a few yards away. The presence of this stranger annoyed Abner. What right had anyone to creep upon him that way? he asked himself.But the visitor was by no means daunted by Abner's surly expression. He came jauntily forward, and held out a big fat hand."Glad to meet you, Mr. Andrews," he accosted. "Having a quiet time here all by yourself, I see. Beautiful spot, isn't it?""Is it?" Abner sullenly asked, as he viewed the man most carefully. He did not like his looks, and he believed him to be an agent, who wished to sell him apple-trees."It's the finest place I've seen in a long time," the man replied. "And look at that wood! I suppose you get your winter's supply here. You are fortunate. We in the city have to buy ours, while the Lord casts yours right at your door.""You come from the city, eh?" Abner queried."Oh, yes. Have lived there all my life, though I do long to spend the rest of my days in the country, away from all bustle and confusion, and live the quiet life.""To pile drift-wood and do sich jobs, I s'pose?""Yes, that would be a pleasure. Good for the appetite.""Think ye'd make enough to eat on this place?" Abner asked."I'm sure I could. Why, all you farmers have to do is to go into the garden, for your supplies, and to the shore for your fuel, while we in the city have to pay for such things."Abner felt like kicking this fellow and telling him in no uncertain language what a fool he was. But he thought of his peaceful ancestors and so changed his mind."Yes, ye'r quite right, Mister," he drawled. "We do have a great time here in the bush. Lots to eat in the summer time fer nuthin'. An' in the winter it's jist the same. We eat icicles fer breakfast, warmed-up snow fer dinner, an' fer supper we have a slice off one of them cedar blocks there. Ye see, them sticks have been floatin' so long in the river that they have a fishy smell, an' when a piece is fried in molasses, why, ye couldn't tell it from the finest lake trout. Did ye ever try one?""I certainly never did," the stranger smilingly replied. "It must be rather hard to digest, isn't it?""Oh, we don't use our digesters in the winter time. We lay 'em away in the cellar until spring. It's great how they work then, after a good long rest.""I see you're quite a humorist, Mr. Andrews," and again the visitor smiled. "Life in the country is conducive to humor, I suppose?""Sure. It's the funniest place ye ever sot eyes on. It makes people roarin' funny all the time. Why, when we go to the city people jist stand and laff at us, an' the funny papers fill their pages with humor about the doin's of the bush. Everythin' is funny here. Even Abner Andrews is considered a humorous cuss, an' that's sayin' a good deal."The visitor now realized that this quaint farmer was slyly poking fun at him, and he was anxious to change the subject."I've come to see you on an important matter, Mr. Andrews," he explained, "and as I am in a hurry, I shall come to business at once. I'm a real estate agent, with my office in the city, and I am anxious to make some enquiries about your farm. I have come in the interest of a man who is seeking for a suitable place to build a large summer hotel. Now, as you have such an excellent location here, I feel that this is just the right spot for the hotel. The view is excellent, the river is right near for boating and bathing, and from all accounts there are fine lakes and brooks back in the hills for trout fishing. Is not that so?""Ye'r sartinly right," Abner assented. "Ye couldn't find a nicer spot if ye hunted the hull province over.""I'm very glad that you agree with me, Mr. Andrews," the visitor replied, somewhat surprised as he had been warned to beware of the farmer, as he was a most disagreeable man to deal with."Oh, I don't mind agreein' with sich things, Mister, 'specially so when they're correct.""And you think it would be an excellent place for a summer hotel?""Sure, I do. Why, a man 'ud make his fortune in no time. It wouldn't cost him nuthin' to feed the people. They'd catch all the trout they could eat, an' when they didn't want fish they could jist set on the grass an' feed upon the beauties of Nature. It 'ud be cheap fer the people, too, 'cause they wouldn't have to bother with fine clothes. When they weren't fishin' they'd be in bathin', when they wouldn't need no clothes at all.""Ha, ha, that certainly would be fine," the agent laughed. "Utopia, eh?""I'm not," Abner declared. "Don't ye say that agin.""Say what?" the stranger asked in surprise."Ask me if I'm a toper. I never got real drunk in me life. I never took too much.""You misunderstand me, Mr. Andrews," the agent explained, much amused. "I didn't say 'toper,' but 'Utopia,' which means a most delightful place, where people are all happy, and life is simple and free.""Oh, that's what ye mean, is it? Well, fer heaven's sake, why didn't ye say so an' speak plain English instid of sich city jargon? I ain't got time to waste this mornin', if you have.""Neither have I," the agent replied, looking at his watch. "My, I have to be in Glucom in half an hour! Look here, will you sell your place?""How are ye travellin'?" Abner asked."By auto. It's out there on the road.""An' ye're goin' right straight to Glucom, eh?""Yes, as soon as I get through with this business. Will you sell, Mr. Andrews?"For a few seconds Abner did not reply. He thought of his horse in town, an' then of his peaceful ancestors. If he could rub this man the right way, as Zeb suggested, it might save him that long walk."I am willing to make you a liberal offer," the agent continued. "But I must have an answer to-day, or I shall have to choose another locality and you would be the loser.""I'm willin' to sell," Abner replied, as he slowly took the pipe from his mouth and studied it very carefully."That's good," the agent encouraged. "Now, what's your figure?""Figger! Well, I can't jist tell ye off-hand. I've got to consult me pardner.""Your wife, eh?""No she's not me pardner; she's me boss. Me pardner's in town jist now. We work this place together ye see, so I couldn't give ye a price without consultin' Jerry.""And Jerry's in town, is he?""Sure. An' I can't do nuthin' without consultin' him.""Suppose, then, you come along with me, and we can see Jerry," the visitor suggested."Jist the thing, Mister," Abner agreed, rising to his feet and throwing the axe over his shoulder. "I'll be with ye in a jiffy."Abner hurried up to the house, chuckling as he went, while the agent strolled slowly toward the road, viewing the farm as he walked. Abner found no one in the house, and this made him wonder. But he had no time to delay just then, so, donning his coat, he was standing waiting as the car stopped at the gate.It did not take long to speed into Glucom. Abner compared this trip with the toilsome one he and Zeb had made the night before, and he decided that he would have a car of his own when he was able."Where shall we go?" the agent asked, as he swung the car into the main street."To the station," Abner replied.And to the station they sped, and when Abner stepped out he went at once into the office. There he found Sam, who greeted him like a long-lost brother, and offered him a chair."Can't set down, Sam," Abner told him. "I want Jerry; where is he?""In Dingman's barn. He let me have the use of it for a few days. You'll find Jerry all right and in good condition."Sam was much surprised at Abner's excited manner, and he watched him through the window as he spoke to the stranger in the car, and then hurried up the street."What in time is Abner up to now, I wonder. Surely he's not going to sell his horse."It did not take Abner long to find Jerry, and when mounted upon the waggon, he drove proudly back to the station to the expectant agent."Look here," the agent impatiently demanded, "you have kept me a deuce of a long time. I'm in a hurry.""I can't help that," Abner replied, as he reined Jerry up close to the station platform. "I didn't tell ye to wait, did I?""But you wanted me to wait till you had consulted with your partner, didn't you?""So I did. What was I thinkin' about?""And you've seen him?" was the eager question."Sure, sure; I've seen Jerry, all right.""Is he willing to sell?""Ye bet ye'r boots he is. Jerry's willin', fer he's more tired of Ash Pint than of anythin' else. He needs more excitement than he kin find on a farm. He wants to be near the train so's he kin hear the en-gines holler. It allus puts new life into him.""That's fine. I suppose you've agreed on the price?""Oh, yes, we agree, all right, we allus do. Never had a fallin' out yit.""Now, how much do you want for the place, Mr. Andrews?""Well, let me see," and Abner scratched his head in a thoughtful manner. "Oh, I guess fifteen thousand'll do all right.""Fifteen thousand!" the agent exclaimed. "Fifteen thousand for that wretched place of yours, which is as poor as Job's turkey, so I understand. You must be crazy, man. Your farm isn't worth more than seven hundred dollars, and how have you the gall to value it at fifteen thousand? You don't pay taxes on more than five hundred, do you?""Mebbe I don't, Mister. But ye see there are some things ye'r not taxed fer, an' them's the things which you an' others seem to think very valuable. There's the situation, which is the finest in the country, accordin' to ye'r own statement. That should be worth five thousand; the view, fresh air, an' the boatin' an' swimmin' privileges, another five, so that makes ten thousand. Then there's the gravel on the place, an' I guess it's nearly all gravel, an' that's worth a great deal fer ballast, so I understand. It alone should bring fifteen thousand, but Jerry an' me are quite willin' to let ye have the hull outfit fer that amount, an' throw in the situation, air, an' sich things fer nuthin'."The agent was angry now, and it was with considerable effort that he controlled his temper. He knew that Abner was making fun of him, and this nettled him exceedingly. He was, in fact, beginning to doubt the farmer's sanity. He glanced at Jerry and then at the waggon. In his excitement he had not thought of their presence as unusual. Where had they come from, anyway?"Is that your horse?" he abruptly asked."Guess so.""But aren't you sure?""No, sir-ee, I'm not. Ye'r never sure of that hoss. He's got a mind of his own, he has, jist like any pardner should have.""Partner!" and the agent's eyes bulged with a new light. "Do you mean to tell me that he's the partner you've been speakin' about?""Sure; I was tellin' ye no fib. A man might have a darn sight worse one, let me tell ye that.""And he's Jerry?""Yep; that's what I call him."This was too much for the agent. With a savage oath, he settled himself back in his seat, and started the engine."Don't ye want to buy our place?" Abner asked. "We're willin' to sell, ain't we, Jerry?""To h—l with your place," the agent snarled, as he started the car. "I wouldn't do business with a fool, and that's what you are.""Thanks fer the compliment an' fer the ride to town," Abner replied. "If it hadn't been fer you I'd had to walk here after Jerry. Guess it pays to rub people the right way, after all, ha, ha."He watched the agent as he sped away. His mouth was expanded into a grin, and his gray eyes twinkled."Peaceful ancestors!" he chuckled. "Whew! Guess Zeb was right after all. It sartinly does the work. That feller's been set on by Ikey Dimock as sure as I'm livin'. But Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, wasn't caught nappin', not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if he was. Gid-dap, Jerry, me dear old pardner. We must git home an' face the music there."CHAPTER XXUNDER SUSPICIONThe kind of music that Abner expected to face when he reached home was wanting. Instead of a severe scolding, tirades, and a regular bombardment of embarrassing questions, he was received in a most gracious manner. The children flocked about him as he unhitched Jerry and put him in the stable. It was somewhat late and dinner was over, but Mrs. Andrews had his place set and everything hot in the oven. She even smiled as he entered the kitchen, a most unusual thing for her. But Abner thought that she watched him somewhat curiously and anxiously as he hung up his coat and hat. He could also feel her eyes upon him as he washed himself and brushed his tangled hair before the little mirror. He wondered what it all meant, though he made no comment, but at once took his seat at the table. After serving him, Mrs. Andrews sat down on the opposite side of the table, another remarkable thing for her."How are the kids gittin' along?" Abner at length enquired, more for something to say than anything else."Very well, I guess," was the somewhat absent-minded reply. "They seem to be having a good time."Silence then ensued after this effort to start conversation, and Abner went on with his meal. But he was restless, and glanced occasionally out of the window. Once he stopped and listened intently. This Mrs. Andrews noted, and her face became grave."It's only the children," she explained. "The girls are playing with them near the barn.""Say," Abner at length remarked, "has this change-of-heart bizness struck yez all, too?""Why, what do you mean?" his wife asked."But what has come over yez all, Tildy? This house seems strange. I ginerally got a reg'lar dressin' down, when I came home late fer dinner. I was so used to it that this peaceful reception is gittin' on me nerves. I'm like Jerry, an' can't stand things when they're too quiet.""When did you experience a change of heart, Abner?""Last night when walkin' home with Zeb. He's the best hand at that I ever come across. He kin beat Billy Sunday all to bits. He put the punch into me, all right, an' I guess you must have got a touch of it too, Tildy.""Maybe I have, Abner. But, you see, I'm feeling sorry for you after what you've gone through of late.""An' ye don't blame me, Tildy?" Abner asked in astonishment."How can I? It wasn't your fault. I know you couldn't help it, and that is what worries me. But there, never mind that now. I have something to tell you. Abe Dugan wants to know if you will give him a hand this afternoon with that boat he's making.""He does, eh? Well, I like his gall. Does he think I've got nuthin' to do?""But it's a dull day, Abner, and I want you to take back a pattern I borrowed from Mrs. Dugan this morning.""So that's where ye were, was it? I thought ye had cleared out entirely.""I merely ran over to get a pattern. I want to make some trousers for the boys, and as we have had no need for such a thing I knew that Mrs. Dugan would let me have hers. She's going to help me with the work.""She is? Good fer her. I didn't know that she would stoop to sich things.""Oh, yes, she's much interested in the boys, and is going to do all she can. But she wants that pattern back this afternoon, and if you won't take it, then I shall have to do so, though I have so much cooking to do since we have all those extra mouths to feed.""An' more grub to buy, eh? An' where's the stuff to come from fer them pants, I'd like to know?""I am going to use some of your old clothes. I can make them over. The poor little boys are almost in rags."Abner rose from the table, filled and lighted his pipe."Where's that pattern?" he abruptly asked."So you're going, are you, Abner?""Sure, I am. When ye rub me the way ye have to-day, an' when Mrs. Abe is goin' to help with them pants, I can't very well refuse to give a hand out on that boat. My, we're all gittin' mighty holy an' neighborly all of a sudden. Guess a change of heart must have struck all around. I wonder if it has affected Abe. He could stand a good dose of it."Abner was really glad of an excuse to go to his neighbor's, as he had not seen him for some time. The building of a boat was of greater interest to him than splitting and piling wood down on the shore. He would find out, too, if Abe had heard anything about his experiences in town; how Joe Preston was getting along, and what people were saying about the affair.It was about three in the afternoon when he reached the Dugan house, and he was informed by Mrs. Dugan that Abe had been called over to Joe Sanders to see his sick horse. Abe considered himself a specialist on animal diseases, and was much in demand."But you needn't mind Abe's absence," Mrs. Dugan told him. "You know more about boats than he does, so you can go right on with the work. The boat is there in the workshop. It is only just started."Abner noticed that Mrs. Dugan eyed him somewhat curiously, although he paid little attention to it. Perhaps she had heard about his arrest, and wished to see what a man looked like who had been in jail. He was soon lost in the work upon the boat and forgot all about Mrs. Dugan's close scrutiny.The workshop was adjoining the woodshed, which led off from the kitchen, and for an hour Abner worked away with no one to disturb him. About four o'clock, however, women began to come into the shop. Not all together, but one at a time. First there was Mrs. Bennett, who was anxious, so she said, to see the building of the boat. She asked a number of questions, and interfered with Abner. He treated her most courteously, however, remembering his peaceful ancestors. Then came Mrs. Hopkins. She, too, wished to see the building of the boat, and she had much to say about the time she used to sail on the river with her husband before they were married. Abner breathed a sigh of relief when she left, and wondered how many more women the house contained, and what in the world they were doing there that afternoon. He was not left long alone, however, for in a few minutes Miss Julia Tomkins, a maiden of uncertain age, came out and questioned him about the orphans he had taken into his house."I am so much concerned about those children," she informed him, "that I have lain awake at nights thinking about them. And I know others are, too, and we have met here this afternoon to make up clothes for them.""An' so that's what ye'r doin', eh?" Abner asked, as he paused in the act of driving in a nail. "I was wonderin' what kind of a hen-party Mrs. Dugan was havin' this afternoon. How many more are there of yez?""There are about ten in all. It shows what an interest the women are taking in those children.""Ten! Good Lord!" Abner ejaculated. "It's no wonder Abe cleared out. Are they all comin' to see me build this boat?""Does your head hurt you much to-day?" Miss Tomkins asked."Me head! Gee whiz, no! What makes ye think it does?""Because you look so worried.""An' wouldn't anyone look worried with so many visitors? It's not me head but me hands that hurt. Look at that, now," and Abner held out his big rough left hand for inspection. "I sawed that finger twice when Mrs. Bennett was snookin' around here, an' I hit that thumb with the hammer when Mrs. Hopkins was gittin' on me nerves. If any more of them hens come I don't know what will happen. I'm feelin' rather dangerous, an' might lose me head altogether. So it's better fer 'em to stay away.""You poor man," Miss Tomkins sympathized. "You have been badly treated. I shall see that you are not bothered by any more visitors. But——" Here she hesitated."But what?" Abner queried."Oh, I was just going to add that if you don't feel well at any time just call out, will you?""Call out! What fer?""For help, of course. If you feel an attack coming on you at any time, just let me know. I had an uncle who was subject to such spells, and I know more about them than most people. Now, be sure," and Miss Tomkins smiled most sweetly. "So few people understand such cases."Abner stared at his visitor in amazement, and watched her as she walked away. Was Miss Tomkins going out of her mind? he wondered. He had heard that she often had queer notions, and did strange things. So an uncle of hers had been odd, too, and had spells, so she said. Ah, that accounted for it. It ran in the family. He resumed his work, but he could not forget Miss Tomkins' peculiar words and looks. Why had she spoken like that to him? and why had Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Hopkins looked at him so curiously?He had just raised the hammer to drive in a nail when his arm suddenly weakened and the blow fell upon the board instead. An idea had flashed into his mind with startling intensity. Did Miss Tomkins and the rest of the women think that he was off his head? He thought, too, of Tildy's looks and actions, and in a twinkling the whole thing was as clear as day. She believed that there was something wrong with his head, and she had arranged with Mrs. Dugan to have those women meet him there that afternoon, that they might talk with him and give their opinions.The first feeling that came into Abner's heart was a strong resentment. He felt like walking right into the house and telling those women what he thought. This soon passed away, however, and a smile illumined his face. He remembered his peaceful ancestors, and what Zeb had told him. He became calm and went on with his work. But his mind was busy and he thought of more than the boat that afternoon. Several times he chuckled, and once he paused and gazed absently out of the dust-laden window. In half an hour he was in a great humor and would even have embraced Ikey Dimock had he happened along just then. He had what he considered a brilliant idea, and he was never satisfied until he had worked it out of his system by definite action.Abner now was losing interest in the boat. He had something else on hand, and he was wondering how he could best put it into practice.He was thinking of this when Mrs. Dugan came into the workshop, and invited him in to have a cup of tea. "We are all ready," she informed him, "and would like to have you with us. You don't mind a lot of women, do you?""Should say not," was the reply, "I'm used to 'em. But I ain't fitted up fer afternoon tea," and he glanced down at his clothes."Oh, you're all right, Mr. Andrews. It's not your clothes we're anxious to see, but you.""I guess ye'r right," Abner thought. "I see through ye'r game. Yez want to see how I'll act, an' if I'm really luney? Well, yez'll have a chance, me hearties.""You'll come, won't you?" Mrs. Dugan pleaded. "The women will be so disappointed if you don't.""Sure, I'll go," and Abner laid down the saw, and followed the woman into the house.They passed through the kitchen and into the dining-room, where the women were all gathered. They were talking in a most animated manner, but suddenly ceased and a dead silence ensued as Abner entered. Several nodded and smiled their welcome, but no one spoke."I've got him at last," Mrs. Dugan informed them. "He didn't want to come, but when I told him how anxious you all were to see him, he just couldn't refuse, could you, Mr. Andrews?""Should say not," Abner gallantly replied, "'specially when a hull bunch of women wish to look upon me handsome features, an' when they've somethin' good to eat. Tildy says I allus shine then.""He's not luney," Mrs. Parker whispered to Mrs. Peters, who was sitting next her."He doesn't seem so," was the reply. "But, my! look what he's doing!"Mrs. Dugan had offered Abner a chair, but instead of sitting down he stood upon it, and gazed around smilingly upon the astonished women."I allus like to stand in the presence of ladies," he explained. "But on an occasion sich as this, it is better fer me to stand as high as possible, so's yez all kin git a good look at me.""My lands!" Mrs. Hepburn exclaimed, holding up her hands in horror. "What's going to happen next?""You can't eat standing up there, can you?" Mrs. Dugan asked, as she stood before Abner with tea and cake upon a tray."Sure, why not? It's good fer the digester. When I was runnin' the old Flyin' Scud an' had an attack of indigestion, I uster climb to the top of the mast an' stand there an' eat me meals. This is a cinch to that. No, thank ye, I won't have no cake or doughnut; I'll jist have a piece of ye'r dish-cloth instid. I got so used to that last night in jail, where they feed ye on sich things, that somehow I can't git along without it. Why, it gave me a real change of heart, the same as ye git at a revival meetin'."By this time the women were pretty badly frightened. They were now sure that Abner was very much wrong in the head, but no one dared to move or say anything. Even Mrs. Dugan was nonplussed. Abner was now in his element, and he thoroughly enjoyed the diversion he was creating. He drank the cup of tea, and then stepped down softly from the chair. He placed the cup on the table, and looked around the room. A cold chill passed up and down the spine of every woman present. What in the world was the man going to do next? each asked herself. The excitement grew intense when Abner presently fixed his eyes upon Miss Tomkins, who was sitting like a statue, paralyzed with fear, as Abner walked straight toward her."Go away! go away!" she screamed. "Don't come near me!"But Abner made no reply. He began to walk around her, and as he walked, Miss Tomkins began to revolve, chair and all. Three times Abner slowly made the circuit, and three times the damsel revolved, keeping her face to his. Then he paused, and looked at the rest of the women, who were standing huddled together at one end of the room."Don't git skeered, ladies," he soothed. "I was jist tryin' to see what kind of a heart Miss Julia has, or if she has any. But, blame it all, she wriggles so much I can't find out. I've heard it said that she was heartless as fer as young men are consarned, an' if that's so, then she needs a change of heart right off, if she ever expects to git married.""You're crazy," Miss Julia retorted, forgetting her fear in her anger. "Get out of this room at once, you brute."But Abner only smiled."Don't git excited, Miss. I'm here now, an' am in no hurry to go. I've got a word to say to these women. They seem to be somewhat uneasy. I guess they're all gittin' a change of heart by the look of things.""They'll have heart failure, if you're not careful," Miss Tomkins warned. She was surprised at herself for her sudden burst of courage."Heart failure, eh?" and Abner viewed the women again. "My, that would be serious. Somethin' must be done."He took a step toward them, and raised both hands above his head."Are yez ready to die?" he asked, in a deep voice. Screams followed this fearful statement, and several women hurried toward the door."No, ye don't git out yit," Abner declared, as he sprang forward, blocked the way, and stood with his back to the door. "Yez got me in here, an' yez think I'm luney. Now, I want to know if yez are all ready to die.""No, we're not!" Mrs. Dugan replied, "and I'm surprised at you, Mr. Andrews, for frightening us this way. What in the world do you mean?"Abner gazed at her for a few seconds, and then at the women behind her."Well, I was thinkin' if yez are not ready to die, an' if yez all are in danger of dyin' of heart failure, yez ought to have a change of heart right off. It might do yez a world of good. I've had it already, an' it makes me feel fine. Ask Tildy, an' she'll tell yez.""Why, it was your wife who told us about you, and your strange actions," Mrs. Dugan explained. "She asked us all to meet you here, talk with you, and try to find out if anything is wrong.""God bless Tildy!" was Abner's unexpected prayer. "I had no idea that she took sich an interest in me. Guess she's had a change of heart, all right. Now, set down, ladies, I want to say somethin'. There, that's more sociable," he added, when they were once again seated. "Now, look here, ladies, I don't want yez to go away with the notion that I'm luney. I was jist foolin' yez when I stood on that chair an' walked around Miss Julia. Yez thought mebbe I was crazy, but I was only havin' a little fun. Tildy is anxious about me 'cause I've got into trouble lately, an' a pretty bad mess it is over that Joe Preston affair. Then, I've got five little kids on me hands to clothe and feed. Dear knows, it's enough to turn any man's head. But my head's all right, as fer as the Lord made it right, though Tildy sometimes thinks He got tired before he was through. But that's neither here nor there. My head's as it 'tis, an' 'tis no 'tiser. That's all, ladies, an' so I bid yez good afternoon, an' thank yez kindly fer a very pleasant time. May yez all have a change of heart soon, an' think of me sometimes as I think of yez allus, yours most lovingly an' remarkably, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."With his left hand pressed to his heart, he gave a profound, sweeping bow, and, turning, left the women puzzled and speechless.CHAPTER XXIHARD OF HEARING"Hello, Lost Tribes. What are ye makin'?"Zeb looked quickly around, and seeing Abner standing in the doorway, a smile overspread his face."Glad to see ye," he replied. "Feelin' better, eh?""I haven't been sick. What are ye givin' me, Zeb?""Ye haven't, eh? Well, from all accounts, ye've been up to queer pranks of late. How did the sewin'-circle come along?""Oh, I see," and Abner sat down upon a box. "Ye've been hearin' somethin'."Zeb did not reply, but went on quietly with his work."What are ye makin', Zeb?""What de ye think I'm makin'? A baby carriage?""Looks to me like a goose-poke.""So it is; de ye want one?""De ye think I do?" Abner snapped."Well, judgin' from ye'r actions yesterday, one wouldn't come fer astray.""Here, never mind that racket, Zeb. I've had enough of it. What's the news?""News! Lots of it: Joe Preston in the hospital, his assailant in jail, Lawyer Rackshaw's been givin' a rat-party, an' Abner Andrews has been holdin' a free entertainment at Mrs. Dugan's. That's some news, isn't it?""Ah, git out. I know all about that, an' too much in fact. I want to know how Joe's gittin' along. Have ye heard?""Oh, he's on the mend, an' is makin' ready to git after you.""He is?""Sure. He's had Rackshaw up to see him several times already. They're a pair, all right, an' I guess it's up to you to git busy if ye expect to come off with a whole skin.""H'm," Abner sniffed, "I don't care a snap of me finger fer 'em.""But ye will, let me tell ye that," and Zeb laid down the stick he was holding in his hand and looked at his neighbor. "Yell lose ye'r place if ye don't do somethin'. Ye must git a lawyer, Abner, to defend ye.""But I can't afford one, Zeb.""An' ye can't afford to do without one, it seems to me.""Mebbe so." And Abner sighed. "Guess I'll have to be me own lawyer as fer as I kin see. I'm pretty glib with the tongue.""A pretty mess you'd make of it. Why, Rackshaw would wind you up in no time. He's mighty good on a case, so I've been told. An' he's tricky, too. Will stop at nuthin' to gain his point."Just then an auto went by, filled with men."Who kin they be?" Abner enquired, watching the car as it disappeared amid a cloud of dust."Must be men from the Capital," was the reply. "There's to be an election soon, an' the members are gittin' busy, so I hear.""An election! Why, I never heard a word about it.""Oh, you were too busy with other things, Abner, so ye didn't hear. An', besides, ye don't take theWire, so how kin ye expect to know what's goin' on?""When's the 'lection to take place, Zeb?""Next month, an' it's goin' to be a hard fight. That railroad business has put the Government in a bad hole.""So I've heard. Graftin', eh?""I never knew of anythin' like it. Why, every one of the whole bunch, from the premier down, has been gittin' his rake-off.""I know somethin' about it, Zeb. All them fellers who were in with the government bunch got big slices, whether they did any work or not. One man got ten thousand dollars fer whistlin' the right tune, an' another got over a hundred thousand fer winkin' with his left eye at the right instant. Oh, I've heard lots about it.""An' it's true, Abner. True as the Gospel. An' them same fellers are comin' to you an' me to ask us to re-elect 'em.""We won't do it, Zeb."The latter turned and looked intently at his visitor."What about that place of yours, Abner?""Well, what about it?""Don't ye know? If ye buck that government bunch ye'll not stand a ghost of a chance to git anythin' fer ye'r gravel hill. But they might do somethin' big if ye side with 'em.""De ye mean to insinuate, Zeb, that they kin buy me?""Not exactly that, but ye might make a better deal if ye rub 'em the right way.""H'm. I'll rub 'em the right way, Zeb. There's only one right way to rub them fellers, an' that's the way I rubbed Joe Preston the other mornin'.""An' git into trouble, Abner.""Mebbe so. But when wasn't I in trouble? I've been more or less in trouble ever since I was born, an' I'll be that way as long as there's snakes an' skunks in the country."Abner rose to his feet, pulled out his pipe, and started to fill it."Say, Zeb," he presently began, "I wish ye'd give me a hand this mornin'.""What is it ye want?""Help me to fix up me woodshed, will ye? We've had a big surprise at our house.""Should say ye had. Twins one night an' triplets the next day. Rapid increase, that. How's the missus?"Abner struck a match and paid no attention to this sally."Yes, we've had a big surprise," he continued. "A team came from town last night with a hull load of cots, mattresses, boxes of clothin' an' dear knows what all.""Ye don't tell!" Zeb was much interested now. "Where did they come from?""Guess it's some of Belle's doin's. She's written to her pa an' some friends, if I'm not mistaken, tellin' 'em about the kids we've taken under our roof, an' they sent the things. Why, the dooryard is filled chock-a-block.""Where are ye goin' to put 'em, Abner?""In the woodshed. It's got to be fixed up, an' I want ye to give me a hand this mornin'. Tildy an' the gals have taken the kids over to the island to pick berries, an' I want to have it all done when they come back. It'll be a kind of surprise.""What are ye goin' to do?""Fix the floor an' walls, an' partition off a part of the shed. It'll make a dang fine place, an' I've got the boards. Will ye give me a hand?""Sure," was the ready response. "I'll go right along. I ain't very busy this mornin'. I was only makin' a goose-poke. That gander of mine is a reg'lar old nick fer crawlin' through small holes in the fence. But I guess this'll keep him in, all right.""It's a pity ye can't make pokes fer men as easy as ye kin fer ye'r old gander, Zeb. I'd order two right off, one fer Ikey Dimock an' t'other fer Lawyer Rackshaw. There should be a law passed makin' goose-pokes necessary fer some people who are allus botherin' their neighbors.""Ye couldn't git that law passed, Abner.""Why not?""'Cause them who make the laws 'ud be the first ones to use the pokes. They'd be carryin' 'em around all the time.""Ho, ho, I guess ye'r right, Zeb. But come on, an' let's git at that job."For two hours the men worked upon the woodshed, and at the end of that time they had made excellent progress. The walls and the floor had been repaired, the partition put up, and the place thoroughly swept."There, I guess that's some work," Abner remarked, as he critically surveyed the room. "Doesn't take us long to do a job when we once git at it, eh, Zeb?""Let's finish it, though," was the reply. "We might as well fix up the cots while we're about it.""Sure, an' have everythin' ready when the folks git back. My, won't they be surprised. An' Orphan Home built in two hours! I wonder what them slow-pokes in town would think of that."They had just begun to carry in the cots, when an auto stopped before the house, and the impatient call of a klaxon sounded forth."It's the same men who went by when we were in the shop," Zeb explained. "Must be them members after ye'r vote, Abner. They want ye to go out. Listen to the noise that thing's makin'.""Jerry'll like that," was the reply. "He must be shiverin' with delight. Let 'em keep it up."And keep it up they did for a whole minute, while Zeb and Abner went on with their work."Hi there," shouted an impatient voice. "Are you deaf?"Abner winked at Zeb."S'pose we let 'em think we are deaf," he suggested. "I don't like their gall. Anyway, we might as well have a little fun, so let's bring down their topsails. They're carryin' too much sail fer sich crafts.""All right, Abner, I'm game," Zeb agreed. "But be careful.""Oh, I'll be as keerful as I was with Joe Preston. You jist go on with the work as if ye didn't hear nuthin', an' let me handle this show. But, say, they're runnin' the car into the yard. What impudence!"When a short distance away from the back door the auto was stopped, and the man who had previously spoken asked why in the devil no one had answered when spoken to. Zeb was hard at work, thus leaving Abner to face the irritated man."Didn't you hear what I said?" the stranger roared."Hey?" Abner asked, coming close to the car, and putting his left hand up to his ear."Why, the old fool's deaf!" the man exclaimed, turning to his companions. "Good Lord! Have I got to yell everything to him! Look here," he shouted, leaning well over the side of the car, "are you Abner Andrews?""Oh, huntin' rabbits, are ye?" Abner's face cleared as he spoke. "Well, ye've come to a poor place, an' it's the wrong time of the year, anyway. Better wait till winter. They're good eatin' then.""I didn't say 'rabbits,'" the man again yelled. "I said 'are you Abner Andrews?'""Don't mention it. I allus like to give a lift if I kin. But I advise yez to wait till winter," Abner solemnly replied."Oh, h—l!" the man exclaimed in disgust. "What am I to do? He's stone deaf.""Ask him something else," one of his companions suggested."Is this your place?" the man once more roared."Is this my face?" Abner queried. "Sure, whose de ye s'pose it is?""Your place," the man roared again."Oh, place. Well, why didn't ye say so? Sartinly, it's my place. What de ye want to know fer?""Will you sell?""Have I a well? Yes, and a good one, too. De ye want a drink?"The other three occupants of the car were highly amused, and made all kinds of remarks."Speak louder, Tom," one advised. "You're only whispering.""Speak yourself, then," was the retort. "Don't you see I'm splitting my lungs shouting to the old fool?""Get up closer," another urged with a laugh."Ugh! I'm as close as I want to be now. He smells like a pig-pen.""Why not try that other old cuss," the third suggested, motioning to Zeb. "Surely he's not deaf."Acting on this advice, the spokesman looked at Abner, and pointed to Zeb, who had just come out of the woodshed. But Abner shook his head."He's deaf as a post," was the reply. "He can't hear nuthin'. Ye'll have to talk to me."Tom fetched a big sigh, looked around in despair, and mopped his perspiring brow."What in the world are we to do?" he panted. "We must find out if he will sell, and how much he wants. Dimock's support depends upon our getting this place. I'd let him go to the devil, where he belongs, if election wasn't so near.""Write out your questions, Tom," came the suggestion. "That's the easiest way.""Why, sure. We might have thought of it sooner."Whipping out his note-book and pencil he scribbled down a few lines, and handed the book to Abner. The latter took it, and studied it for a few seconds."So yez are the Directors of the Big Draw Railway, eh?" he drawled. "I thought mebbe yez were government heelers. An' yez want to buy my place? Well, that's interestin'.""Is the gravel good?" Tom again wrote."Good," Abner mused, as he carefully studied the words. "Well, I never heard anythin' to the contrary. It was behavin' itself the last time I saw it. It's never done any swearin' or cheatin' to my knowledge. It minds its own bizness, which is more'n I kin say of most people."These words caused the men in the car to laugh uproariously. Abner seemed surprised at their merriment, and looked enquiringly at the spokesman."Have yez all been drinkin'?" he asked. "Better leave it alone, young men. It's bad fer the health.""We've not been drinking," Tom wrote. "We're as dry as old Parson Jackson. How much gravel have you and how deep is it?""Let me see," and Abner scratched his head. "Oh I guess fifty acres, more or less, good gravel. An' it's deep, too. Why, it's as deep as any government grafter ye ever saw, an' as unsartin. It's so shifty ye jist never know what it's goin' to do next.""Will you sell?" was the next question written."Sell? Well, that all depends. I was thinkin' of keepin' the place, as I might want it several hundred years from now. But mebbe it 'ud be as well to git clear of it when the chance comes. If I'm to have a mansion in the sky, as I've heard about, no doubt there'll be lots of ground around the buildin', enough anyway, fer my purpose."The men in the auto looked at one another in surprise."Why, I believe the old chap's batty," one remarked. "He's talking blooming nonsense. He'll have a mansion here on earth pretty soon, with keepers, too, if I'm not much mistaken.""Never mind that," Tom replied. "All we want is his place, and he can go to the Asylum or to the devil for all I care. I'm sick and tired of the old fool." He then wrote another question."How much do you want for your place?""How much?" and Abner looked lingeringly over toward the big gravel hill. "Well, I want all I kin git, an' a darn sight more, if ye don't mind.""But how much?" came the next question."How much? Let me see. Oh, I guess fifteen thousand'll do, though I hate to sacrifice the place.""Fifteen thousand!" the men in the car fairly rose from their seats."Too much," Tom wrote."So I imagined," Abner drawled. "Too much fer me to git, but not enough fer the grafters, eh? Ye'r willin' to pay one man a hundred thousand fer winkin' at the right minute, an' another fifty thousand fer holdin' his tongue. Ye didn't consider twenty thousand too much to give Ben Slosson fer twelve acres of land, an' most of it mud an' rocks at that, did ye?"Abner now saw that the men were becoming angry and impatient, and it greatly amused him. All but Tom agreed to leave at once and not waste any more time."I'm going to have another crack at him, though," and Tom wrote another question."Ye'll give me two thousand, will ye?" Abner queried. "Well, there's nuthin' doin'; then, so yez might as well trot off. It's fifteen thousand or nuthin'.""But we can expropriate your place," Tom again wrote."What's that thing?" Abner asked."The Government can take your place and give you what they like. They have the power.""They have, eh? Well, let 'em try, that's all. Let the hull dang bunch come. I'm the government here, an' I intend to be so. I've paid fer me place, an' until I git what it's worth I intend to keep it. So, good-day to yez all, an' give my compliments to Ikey Dimock, an' thanks fer ye'r personal remarks."At these words the four men started, while an expression of consternation appeared upon their faces."Did you hear what we said?" Tom asked."Sure; how could I help it?""And you're not deaf?""Jist as deaf as he is," and Abner motioned to Zeb."You old devil!" Tom roared, now wild with rage. "What did you mean by deceiving us?""An' what did yez all mean by comin' here an' tryin' to buy me place fer two thousand dollars, that yez might sell it to the Government fer a big sum, an' divvy up with Ikey Dimock? Tell me that.""But we didn't," Tom protested. "We are honest men.""H'm, honest men," Abner snorted. "I've got ears like a deer an' eyes like a hawk. Ye can't fool me with any of ye'r tricks. If I am an' 'old cuss', 'fit fer the lunatic asylum,' an' 'smell like a pig-pen', I've got a few ounces of sense left yit, thank the Lord."The visitors were completely confounded. They were furious, and made no attempt to conceal their anger. They swore and vowed what they would do. But Abner only smiled in a most tantalizing manner, and stood watching as they backed the car out of the yard and sped rapidly away."Well, Zeb, how did she go?" he asked, turning to his companion, who was standing by his side."Say, Abner, you should be a politician or an actor," was the reply. "You'd make ye'r fortune at either.""I'm goin' to make it, Zeb, jist as Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, an' nuthin' else. I guess a man needs to be a politician or an actor no matter who he is, to keep step with them beauties. Ho, ho, weren't they surprised when I opened up on 'em! Thought we was both deaf, ha, ha. Come in, Zeb, an' let's have dinner on this. Tildy's left some things in the house. 'Old cuss,' 'batty,' 'smells like a pig-pen.' Ho, ho, that's the best yit."
CHAPTER XIX
JERRY, ME PARDNER
It was late when Abner awoke the next morning. This was a most unusual thing for him, and he felt annoyed at himself as he hurriedly dressed and hastened downstairs. The house seemed to be deserted. He glanced at the clock, and was surprised to find that it was a quarter to nine. His breakfast was all ready on the table, but no one was to be seen. A copy ofThe Live Wirelying by his plate arrested his attention.
"Some class to this," he remarked, half aloud, as he unfolded the paper. "Jist like a hotel; breakfast waitin', an' the mornin' paper right at hand. Reg'lar Waldorf-Astoria style. Hello! what in time——!"
His eyes had caught sight of the big headlines, and he saw his own name prominently displayed along with Joe Preston's. It was a great write-up, and Abner read it through to the bitter end. It told of his savage attack upon the editor, how he looked and acted, and of his arrest and confinement in jail. Then followed a description of his life's history, which ended by saying that he had been looked upon as dangerous for some time. It was really believed by many that, owing to his peculiar actions, he was not altogether in his right mind. The incident of his offering one thousand dollars toward the Orphanage was mentioned, and how he did not have enough money to pay even five dollars, let alone the whole amount. Not a word was said in his favor. He was painted in the darkest colors, and it was suggested that he should either be placed in the Asylum as a lunatic, or in the Penitentiary as a most dangerous character.
A peculiar expression overspread Abner's face as he finished reading. He laid the paper aside and began his breakfast. When he was through, he filled his pipe and walked out of the house. The rain had ceased in the night, but the air was damp and heavy. It was a gloomy morning, and accorded perfectly with the state of his mind. He heard the voices of the children in the barn and knew that the girls were with them. It was the best place to play on a day such as this. He had no mind to join them, as he wished to be alone in order to think.
He stood for a few minutes near the woodshed, looking down upon the river, over which drifted a heavy mist. He longed to be out there in the Flying Scud, away from all land-lubbers. It was the life to which he was especially fitted. Picking up his axe, which was lying by the chopping-block, he threw it over his shoulder and walked rapidly toward the shore. There was considerable drift-wood to be gathered, and he generally spent wet days at this work. He needed something to do, and in wrestling with the roots, logs, and blocks he could give physical vent to his pent-up feelings.
His row-boat was pulled up on the beach, and his small canoe, used for muskrat and duck shooting, was lying bottom up among the bushes. He was tempted to launch the latter, cross to the island and spend the day there. Any place was preferable to remaining near home where he knew that ere long he must submit to a regular bombardment of questions. He wondered what had become of his wife. It was a most unusual thing for her to be absent from home at this time of the morning. He could see the house plainly from where he stood on the shore, and he occasionally turned and looked in that direction. Abner was well aware that he should go to town for Jerry, but he was in no mood for the long walk over the muddy roads. He would need the horse for haying as soon as the weather cleared.
"Confound it all!" he growled. "I don't want to see that town agin fer a long time. I'm sick of it. Why can't people leave me alone, anyway? They'll all read that piece in the paper, an' they'll think I'm the biggest villain on the face of the hull earth. I wonder how Zeb would act if he'd been rubbed the wrong way most of his life sich as I have. Peaceful ancestors, be blowed!"
In order to express his feelings he started to work, and every blow of the axe was not only upon log or block, but upon his enemies. This violent exercise did him a great deal of good, and he mentally compared the joy of being in the fresh air with the stuffy and unsavory jail.
After an hour of such work he felt in a better frame of mind. He had put all of his enemies to flight and was the victor. There was joy in the feeling, and his face wore a more benign expression when he at length paused, seated himself upon a log, and began to re-fill his pipe. He thus sat looking out over the water, thinking of his previous day's experiences, and of what Zeb had to say about his peaceful ancestors. At times he felt that his neighbor was right, but the spirits of his war-like ancestors had been with him for so long that he found it most difficult to rid himself of their influence.
"It's a darn hard thing to shake off old friends," he muttered. "It's 'specially hard when ye'r in sympathy with 'em, an' want to do jist as they did. They've stood by me fer many a year now, an' their words an' actions have allus jibed with mine. I wonder if me peaceful ancestors will see eye to eye with me. That's the pint Zeb didn't take into consideration. If I've got to trim me sails to their gentle actions I'm afraid I'll land in the lunatic asylum fer sure."
He was aroused from his meditation by a step behind him, and looking quickly around, he saw a man approaching but a few yards away. The presence of this stranger annoyed Abner. What right had anyone to creep upon him that way? he asked himself.
But the visitor was by no means daunted by Abner's surly expression. He came jauntily forward, and held out a big fat hand.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Andrews," he accosted. "Having a quiet time here all by yourself, I see. Beautiful spot, isn't it?"
"Is it?" Abner sullenly asked, as he viewed the man most carefully. He did not like his looks, and he believed him to be an agent, who wished to sell him apple-trees.
"It's the finest place I've seen in a long time," the man replied. "And look at that wood! I suppose you get your winter's supply here. You are fortunate. We in the city have to buy ours, while the Lord casts yours right at your door."
"You come from the city, eh?" Abner queried.
"Oh, yes. Have lived there all my life, though I do long to spend the rest of my days in the country, away from all bustle and confusion, and live the quiet life."
"To pile drift-wood and do sich jobs, I s'pose?"
"Yes, that would be a pleasure. Good for the appetite."
"Think ye'd make enough to eat on this place?" Abner asked.
"I'm sure I could. Why, all you farmers have to do is to go into the garden, for your supplies, and to the shore for your fuel, while we in the city have to pay for such things."
Abner felt like kicking this fellow and telling him in no uncertain language what a fool he was. But he thought of his peaceful ancestors and so changed his mind.
"Yes, ye'r quite right, Mister," he drawled. "We do have a great time here in the bush. Lots to eat in the summer time fer nuthin'. An' in the winter it's jist the same. We eat icicles fer breakfast, warmed-up snow fer dinner, an' fer supper we have a slice off one of them cedar blocks there. Ye see, them sticks have been floatin' so long in the river that they have a fishy smell, an' when a piece is fried in molasses, why, ye couldn't tell it from the finest lake trout. Did ye ever try one?"
"I certainly never did," the stranger smilingly replied. "It must be rather hard to digest, isn't it?"
"Oh, we don't use our digesters in the winter time. We lay 'em away in the cellar until spring. It's great how they work then, after a good long rest."
"I see you're quite a humorist, Mr. Andrews," and again the visitor smiled. "Life in the country is conducive to humor, I suppose?"
"Sure. It's the funniest place ye ever sot eyes on. It makes people roarin' funny all the time. Why, when we go to the city people jist stand and laff at us, an' the funny papers fill their pages with humor about the doin's of the bush. Everythin' is funny here. Even Abner Andrews is considered a humorous cuss, an' that's sayin' a good deal."
The visitor now realized that this quaint farmer was slyly poking fun at him, and he was anxious to change the subject.
"I've come to see you on an important matter, Mr. Andrews," he explained, "and as I am in a hurry, I shall come to business at once. I'm a real estate agent, with my office in the city, and I am anxious to make some enquiries about your farm. I have come in the interest of a man who is seeking for a suitable place to build a large summer hotel. Now, as you have such an excellent location here, I feel that this is just the right spot for the hotel. The view is excellent, the river is right near for boating and bathing, and from all accounts there are fine lakes and brooks back in the hills for trout fishing. Is not that so?"
"Ye'r sartinly right," Abner assented. "Ye couldn't find a nicer spot if ye hunted the hull province over."
"I'm very glad that you agree with me, Mr. Andrews," the visitor replied, somewhat surprised as he had been warned to beware of the farmer, as he was a most disagreeable man to deal with.
"Oh, I don't mind agreein' with sich things, Mister, 'specially so when they're correct."
"And you think it would be an excellent place for a summer hotel?"
"Sure, I do. Why, a man 'ud make his fortune in no time. It wouldn't cost him nuthin' to feed the people. They'd catch all the trout they could eat, an' when they didn't want fish they could jist set on the grass an' feed upon the beauties of Nature. It 'ud be cheap fer the people, too, 'cause they wouldn't have to bother with fine clothes. When they weren't fishin' they'd be in bathin', when they wouldn't need no clothes at all."
"Ha, ha, that certainly would be fine," the agent laughed. "Utopia, eh?"
"I'm not," Abner declared. "Don't ye say that agin."
"Say what?" the stranger asked in surprise.
"Ask me if I'm a toper. I never got real drunk in me life. I never took too much."
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Andrews," the agent explained, much amused. "I didn't say 'toper,' but 'Utopia,' which means a most delightful place, where people are all happy, and life is simple and free."
"Oh, that's what ye mean, is it? Well, fer heaven's sake, why didn't ye say so an' speak plain English instid of sich city jargon? I ain't got time to waste this mornin', if you have."
"Neither have I," the agent replied, looking at his watch. "My, I have to be in Glucom in half an hour! Look here, will you sell your place?"
"How are ye travellin'?" Abner asked.
"By auto. It's out there on the road."
"An' ye're goin' right straight to Glucom, eh?"
"Yes, as soon as I get through with this business. Will you sell, Mr. Andrews?"
For a few seconds Abner did not reply. He thought of his horse in town, an' then of his peaceful ancestors. If he could rub this man the right way, as Zeb suggested, it might save him that long walk.
"I am willing to make you a liberal offer," the agent continued. "But I must have an answer to-day, or I shall have to choose another locality and you would be the loser."
"I'm willin' to sell," Abner replied, as he slowly took the pipe from his mouth and studied it very carefully.
"That's good," the agent encouraged. "Now, what's your figure?"
"Figger! Well, I can't jist tell ye off-hand. I've got to consult me pardner."
"Your wife, eh?"
"No she's not me pardner; she's me boss. Me pardner's in town jist now. We work this place together ye see, so I couldn't give ye a price without consultin' Jerry."
"And Jerry's in town, is he?"
"Sure. An' I can't do nuthin' without consultin' him."
"Suppose, then, you come along with me, and we can see Jerry," the visitor suggested.
"Jist the thing, Mister," Abner agreed, rising to his feet and throwing the axe over his shoulder. "I'll be with ye in a jiffy."
Abner hurried up to the house, chuckling as he went, while the agent strolled slowly toward the road, viewing the farm as he walked. Abner found no one in the house, and this made him wonder. But he had no time to delay just then, so, donning his coat, he was standing waiting as the car stopped at the gate.
It did not take long to speed into Glucom. Abner compared this trip with the toilsome one he and Zeb had made the night before, and he decided that he would have a car of his own when he was able.
"Where shall we go?" the agent asked, as he swung the car into the main street.
"To the station," Abner replied.
And to the station they sped, and when Abner stepped out he went at once into the office. There he found Sam, who greeted him like a long-lost brother, and offered him a chair.
"Can't set down, Sam," Abner told him. "I want Jerry; where is he?"
"In Dingman's barn. He let me have the use of it for a few days. You'll find Jerry all right and in good condition."
Sam was much surprised at Abner's excited manner, and he watched him through the window as he spoke to the stranger in the car, and then hurried up the street.
"What in time is Abner up to now, I wonder. Surely he's not going to sell his horse."
It did not take Abner long to find Jerry, and when mounted upon the waggon, he drove proudly back to the station to the expectant agent.
"Look here," the agent impatiently demanded, "you have kept me a deuce of a long time. I'm in a hurry."
"I can't help that," Abner replied, as he reined Jerry up close to the station platform. "I didn't tell ye to wait, did I?"
"But you wanted me to wait till you had consulted with your partner, didn't you?"
"So I did. What was I thinkin' about?"
"And you've seen him?" was the eager question.
"Sure, sure; I've seen Jerry, all right."
"Is he willing to sell?"
"Ye bet ye'r boots he is. Jerry's willin', fer he's more tired of Ash Pint than of anythin' else. He needs more excitement than he kin find on a farm. He wants to be near the train so's he kin hear the en-gines holler. It allus puts new life into him."
"That's fine. I suppose you've agreed on the price?"
"Oh, yes, we agree, all right, we allus do. Never had a fallin' out yit."
"Now, how much do you want for the place, Mr. Andrews?"
"Well, let me see," and Abner scratched his head in a thoughtful manner. "Oh, I guess fifteen thousand'll do all right."
"Fifteen thousand!" the agent exclaimed. "Fifteen thousand for that wretched place of yours, which is as poor as Job's turkey, so I understand. You must be crazy, man. Your farm isn't worth more than seven hundred dollars, and how have you the gall to value it at fifteen thousand? You don't pay taxes on more than five hundred, do you?"
"Mebbe I don't, Mister. But ye see there are some things ye'r not taxed fer, an' them's the things which you an' others seem to think very valuable. There's the situation, which is the finest in the country, accordin' to ye'r own statement. That should be worth five thousand; the view, fresh air, an' the boatin' an' swimmin' privileges, another five, so that makes ten thousand. Then there's the gravel on the place, an' I guess it's nearly all gravel, an' that's worth a great deal fer ballast, so I understand. It alone should bring fifteen thousand, but Jerry an' me are quite willin' to let ye have the hull outfit fer that amount, an' throw in the situation, air, an' sich things fer nuthin'."
The agent was angry now, and it was with considerable effort that he controlled his temper. He knew that Abner was making fun of him, and this nettled him exceedingly. He was, in fact, beginning to doubt the farmer's sanity. He glanced at Jerry and then at the waggon. In his excitement he had not thought of their presence as unusual. Where had they come from, anyway?
"Is that your horse?" he abruptly asked.
"Guess so."
"But aren't you sure?"
"No, sir-ee, I'm not. Ye'r never sure of that hoss. He's got a mind of his own, he has, jist like any pardner should have."
"Partner!" and the agent's eyes bulged with a new light. "Do you mean to tell me that he's the partner you've been speakin' about?"
"Sure; I was tellin' ye no fib. A man might have a darn sight worse one, let me tell ye that."
"And he's Jerry?"
"Yep; that's what I call him."
This was too much for the agent. With a savage oath, he settled himself back in his seat, and started the engine.
"Don't ye want to buy our place?" Abner asked. "We're willin' to sell, ain't we, Jerry?"
"To h—l with your place," the agent snarled, as he started the car. "I wouldn't do business with a fool, and that's what you are."
"Thanks fer the compliment an' fer the ride to town," Abner replied. "If it hadn't been fer you I'd had to walk here after Jerry. Guess it pays to rub people the right way, after all, ha, ha."
He watched the agent as he sped away. His mouth was expanded into a grin, and his gray eyes twinkled.
"Peaceful ancestors!" he chuckled. "Whew! Guess Zeb was right after all. It sartinly does the work. That feller's been set on by Ikey Dimock as sure as I'm livin'. But Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, wasn't caught nappin', not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if he was. Gid-dap, Jerry, me dear old pardner. We must git home an' face the music there."
CHAPTER XX
UNDER SUSPICION
The kind of music that Abner expected to face when he reached home was wanting. Instead of a severe scolding, tirades, and a regular bombardment of embarrassing questions, he was received in a most gracious manner. The children flocked about him as he unhitched Jerry and put him in the stable. It was somewhat late and dinner was over, but Mrs. Andrews had his place set and everything hot in the oven. She even smiled as he entered the kitchen, a most unusual thing for her. But Abner thought that she watched him somewhat curiously and anxiously as he hung up his coat and hat. He could also feel her eyes upon him as he washed himself and brushed his tangled hair before the little mirror. He wondered what it all meant, though he made no comment, but at once took his seat at the table. After serving him, Mrs. Andrews sat down on the opposite side of the table, another remarkable thing for her.
"How are the kids gittin' along?" Abner at length enquired, more for something to say than anything else.
"Very well, I guess," was the somewhat absent-minded reply. "They seem to be having a good time."
Silence then ensued after this effort to start conversation, and Abner went on with his meal. But he was restless, and glanced occasionally out of the window. Once he stopped and listened intently. This Mrs. Andrews noted, and her face became grave.
"It's only the children," she explained. "The girls are playing with them near the barn."
"Say," Abner at length remarked, "has this change-of-heart bizness struck yez all, too?"
"Why, what do you mean?" his wife asked.
"But what has come over yez all, Tildy? This house seems strange. I ginerally got a reg'lar dressin' down, when I came home late fer dinner. I was so used to it that this peaceful reception is gittin' on me nerves. I'm like Jerry, an' can't stand things when they're too quiet."
"When did you experience a change of heart, Abner?"
"Last night when walkin' home with Zeb. He's the best hand at that I ever come across. He kin beat Billy Sunday all to bits. He put the punch into me, all right, an' I guess you must have got a touch of it too, Tildy."
"Maybe I have, Abner. But, you see, I'm feeling sorry for you after what you've gone through of late."
"An' ye don't blame me, Tildy?" Abner asked in astonishment.
"How can I? It wasn't your fault. I know you couldn't help it, and that is what worries me. But there, never mind that now. I have something to tell you. Abe Dugan wants to know if you will give him a hand this afternoon with that boat he's making."
"He does, eh? Well, I like his gall. Does he think I've got nuthin' to do?"
"But it's a dull day, Abner, and I want you to take back a pattern I borrowed from Mrs. Dugan this morning."
"So that's where ye were, was it? I thought ye had cleared out entirely."
"I merely ran over to get a pattern. I want to make some trousers for the boys, and as we have had no need for such a thing I knew that Mrs. Dugan would let me have hers. She's going to help me with the work."
"She is? Good fer her. I didn't know that she would stoop to sich things."
"Oh, yes, she's much interested in the boys, and is going to do all she can. But she wants that pattern back this afternoon, and if you won't take it, then I shall have to do so, though I have so much cooking to do since we have all those extra mouths to feed."
"An' more grub to buy, eh? An' where's the stuff to come from fer them pants, I'd like to know?"
"I am going to use some of your old clothes. I can make them over. The poor little boys are almost in rags."
Abner rose from the table, filled and lighted his pipe.
"Where's that pattern?" he abruptly asked.
"So you're going, are you, Abner?"
"Sure, I am. When ye rub me the way ye have to-day, an' when Mrs. Abe is goin' to help with them pants, I can't very well refuse to give a hand out on that boat. My, we're all gittin' mighty holy an' neighborly all of a sudden. Guess a change of heart must have struck all around. I wonder if it has affected Abe. He could stand a good dose of it."
Abner was really glad of an excuse to go to his neighbor's, as he had not seen him for some time. The building of a boat was of greater interest to him than splitting and piling wood down on the shore. He would find out, too, if Abe had heard anything about his experiences in town; how Joe Preston was getting along, and what people were saying about the affair.
It was about three in the afternoon when he reached the Dugan house, and he was informed by Mrs. Dugan that Abe had been called over to Joe Sanders to see his sick horse. Abe considered himself a specialist on animal diseases, and was much in demand.
"But you needn't mind Abe's absence," Mrs. Dugan told him. "You know more about boats than he does, so you can go right on with the work. The boat is there in the workshop. It is only just started."
Abner noticed that Mrs. Dugan eyed him somewhat curiously, although he paid little attention to it. Perhaps she had heard about his arrest, and wished to see what a man looked like who had been in jail. He was soon lost in the work upon the boat and forgot all about Mrs. Dugan's close scrutiny.
The workshop was adjoining the woodshed, which led off from the kitchen, and for an hour Abner worked away with no one to disturb him. About four o'clock, however, women began to come into the shop. Not all together, but one at a time. First there was Mrs. Bennett, who was anxious, so she said, to see the building of the boat. She asked a number of questions, and interfered with Abner. He treated her most courteously, however, remembering his peaceful ancestors. Then came Mrs. Hopkins. She, too, wished to see the building of the boat, and she had much to say about the time she used to sail on the river with her husband before they were married. Abner breathed a sigh of relief when she left, and wondered how many more women the house contained, and what in the world they were doing there that afternoon. He was not left long alone, however, for in a few minutes Miss Julia Tomkins, a maiden of uncertain age, came out and questioned him about the orphans he had taken into his house.
"I am so much concerned about those children," she informed him, "that I have lain awake at nights thinking about them. And I know others are, too, and we have met here this afternoon to make up clothes for them."
"An' so that's what ye'r doin', eh?" Abner asked, as he paused in the act of driving in a nail. "I was wonderin' what kind of a hen-party Mrs. Dugan was havin' this afternoon. How many more are there of yez?"
"There are about ten in all. It shows what an interest the women are taking in those children."
"Ten! Good Lord!" Abner ejaculated. "It's no wonder Abe cleared out. Are they all comin' to see me build this boat?"
"Does your head hurt you much to-day?" Miss Tomkins asked.
"Me head! Gee whiz, no! What makes ye think it does?"
"Because you look so worried."
"An' wouldn't anyone look worried with so many visitors? It's not me head but me hands that hurt. Look at that, now," and Abner held out his big rough left hand for inspection. "I sawed that finger twice when Mrs. Bennett was snookin' around here, an' I hit that thumb with the hammer when Mrs. Hopkins was gittin' on me nerves. If any more of them hens come I don't know what will happen. I'm feelin' rather dangerous, an' might lose me head altogether. So it's better fer 'em to stay away."
"You poor man," Miss Tomkins sympathized. "You have been badly treated. I shall see that you are not bothered by any more visitors. But——" Here she hesitated.
"But what?" Abner queried.
"Oh, I was just going to add that if you don't feel well at any time just call out, will you?"
"Call out! What fer?"
"For help, of course. If you feel an attack coming on you at any time, just let me know. I had an uncle who was subject to such spells, and I know more about them than most people. Now, be sure," and Miss Tomkins smiled most sweetly. "So few people understand such cases."
Abner stared at his visitor in amazement, and watched her as she walked away. Was Miss Tomkins going out of her mind? he wondered. He had heard that she often had queer notions, and did strange things. So an uncle of hers had been odd, too, and had spells, so she said. Ah, that accounted for it. It ran in the family. He resumed his work, but he could not forget Miss Tomkins' peculiar words and looks. Why had she spoken like that to him? and why had Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Hopkins looked at him so curiously?
He had just raised the hammer to drive in a nail when his arm suddenly weakened and the blow fell upon the board instead. An idea had flashed into his mind with startling intensity. Did Miss Tomkins and the rest of the women think that he was off his head? He thought, too, of Tildy's looks and actions, and in a twinkling the whole thing was as clear as day. She believed that there was something wrong with his head, and she had arranged with Mrs. Dugan to have those women meet him there that afternoon, that they might talk with him and give their opinions.
The first feeling that came into Abner's heart was a strong resentment. He felt like walking right into the house and telling those women what he thought. This soon passed away, however, and a smile illumined his face. He remembered his peaceful ancestors, and what Zeb had told him. He became calm and went on with his work. But his mind was busy and he thought of more than the boat that afternoon. Several times he chuckled, and once he paused and gazed absently out of the dust-laden window. In half an hour he was in a great humor and would even have embraced Ikey Dimock had he happened along just then. He had what he considered a brilliant idea, and he was never satisfied until he had worked it out of his system by definite action.
Abner now was losing interest in the boat. He had something else on hand, and he was wondering how he could best put it into practice.
He was thinking of this when Mrs. Dugan came into the workshop, and invited him in to have a cup of tea. "We are all ready," she informed him, "and would like to have you with us. You don't mind a lot of women, do you?"
"Should say not," was the reply, "I'm used to 'em. But I ain't fitted up fer afternoon tea," and he glanced down at his clothes.
"Oh, you're all right, Mr. Andrews. It's not your clothes we're anxious to see, but you."
"I guess ye'r right," Abner thought. "I see through ye'r game. Yez want to see how I'll act, an' if I'm really luney? Well, yez'll have a chance, me hearties."
"You'll come, won't you?" Mrs. Dugan pleaded. "The women will be so disappointed if you don't."
"Sure, I'll go," and Abner laid down the saw, and followed the woman into the house.
They passed through the kitchen and into the dining-room, where the women were all gathered. They were talking in a most animated manner, but suddenly ceased and a dead silence ensued as Abner entered. Several nodded and smiled their welcome, but no one spoke.
"I've got him at last," Mrs. Dugan informed them. "He didn't want to come, but when I told him how anxious you all were to see him, he just couldn't refuse, could you, Mr. Andrews?"
"Should say not," Abner gallantly replied, "'specially when a hull bunch of women wish to look upon me handsome features, an' when they've somethin' good to eat. Tildy says I allus shine then."
"He's not luney," Mrs. Parker whispered to Mrs. Peters, who was sitting next her.
"He doesn't seem so," was the reply. "But, my! look what he's doing!"
Mrs. Dugan had offered Abner a chair, but instead of sitting down he stood upon it, and gazed around smilingly upon the astonished women.
"I allus like to stand in the presence of ladies," he explained. "But on an occasion sich as this, it is better fer me to stand as high as possible, so's yez all kin git a good look at me."
"My lands!" Mrs. Hepburn exclaimed, holding up her hands in horror. "What's going to happen next?"
"You can't eat standing up there, can you?" Mrs. Dugan asked, as she stood before Abner with tea and cake upon a tray.
"Sure, why not? It's good fer the digester. When I was runnin' the old Flyin' Scud an' had an attack of indigestion, I uster climb to the top of the mast an' stand there an' eat me meals. This is a cinch to that. No, thank ye, I won't have no cake or doughnut; I'll jist have a piece of ye'r dish-cloth instid. I got so used to that last night in jail, where they feed ye on sich things, that somehow I can't git along without it. Why, it gave me a real change of heart, the same as ye git at a revival meetin'."
By this time the women were pretty badly frightened. They were now sure that Abner was very much wrong in the head, but no one dared to move or say anything. Even Mrs. Dugan was nonplussed. Abner was now in his element, and he thoroughly enjoyed the diversion he was creating. He drank the cup of tea, and then stepped down softly from the chair. He placed the cup on the table, and looked around the room. A cold chill passed up and down the spine of every woman present. What in the world was the man going to do next? each asked herself. The excitement grew intense when Abner presently fixed his eyes upon Miss Tomkins, who was sitting like a statue, paralyzed with fear, as Abner walked straight toward her.
"Go away! go away!" she screamed. "Don't come near me!"
But Abner made no reply. He began to walk around her, and as he walked, Miss Tomkins began to revolve, chair and all. Three times Abner slowly made the circuit, and three times the damsel revolved, keeping her face to his. Then he paused, and looked at the rest of the women, who were standing huddled together at one end of the room.
"Don't git skeered, ladies," he soothed. "I was jist tryin' to see what kind of a heart Miss Julia has, or if she has any. But, blame it all, she wriggles so much I can't find out. I've heard it said that she was heartless as fer as young men are consarned, an' if that's so, then she needs a change of heart right off, if she ever expects to git married."
"You're crazy," Miss Julia retorted, forgetting her fear in her anger. "Get out of this room at once, you brute."
But Abner only smiled.
"Don't git excited, Miss. I'm here now, an' am in no hurry to go. I've got a word to say to these women. They seem to be somewhat uneasy. I guess they're all gittin' a change of heart by the look of things."
"They'll have heart failure, if you're not careful," Miss Tomkins warned. She was surprised at herself for her sudden burst of courage.
"Heart failure, eh?" and Abner viewed the women again. "My, that would be serious. Somethin' must be done."
He took a step toward them, and raised both hands above his head.
"Are yez ready to die?" he asked, in a deep voice. Screams followed this fearful statement, and several women hurried toward the door.
"No, ye don't git out yit," Abner declared, as he sprang forward, blocked the way, and stood with his back to the door. "Yez got me in here, an' yez think I'm luney. Now, I want to know if yez are all ready to die."
"No, we're not!" Mrs. Dugan replied, "and I'm surprised at you, Mr. Andrews, for frightening us this way. What in the world do you mean?"
Abner gazed at her for a few seconds, and then at the women behind her.
"Well, I was thinkin' if yez are not ready to die, an' if yez all are in danger of dyin' of heart failure, yez ought to have a change of heart right off. It might do yez a world of good. I've had it already, an' it makes me feel fine. Ask Tildy, an' she'll tell yez."
"Why, it was your wife who told us about you, and your strange actions," Mrs. Dugan explained. "She asked us all to meet you here, talk with you, and try to find out if anything is wrong."
"God bless Tildy!" was Abner's unexpected prayer. "I had no idea that she took sich an interest in me. Guess she's had a change of heart, all right. Now, set down, ladies, I want to say somethin'. There, that's more sociable," he added, when they were once again seated. "Now, look here, ladies, I don't want yez to go away with the notion that I'm luney. I was jist foolin' yez when I stood on that chair an' walked around Miss Julia. Yez thought mebbe I was crazy, but I was only havin' a little fun. Tildy is anxious about me 'cause I've got into trouble lately, an' a pretty bad mess it is over that Joe Preston affair. Then, I've got five little kids on me hands to clothe and feed. Dear knows, it's enough to turn any man's head. But my head's all right, as fer as the Lord made it right, though Tildy sometimes thinks He got tired before he was through. But that's neither here nor there. My head's as it 'tis, an' 'tis no 'tiser. That's all, ladies, an' so I bid yez good afternoon, an' thank yez kindly fer a very pleasant time. May yez all have a change of heart soon, an' think of me sometimes as I think of yez allus, yours most lovingly an' remarkably, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."
With his left hand pressed to his heart, he gave a profound, sweeping bow, and, turning, left the women puzzled and speechless.
CHAPTER XXI
HARD OF HEARING
"Hello, Lost Tribes. What are ye makin'?"
Zeb looked quickly around, and seeing Abner standing in the doorway, a smile overspread his face.
"Glad to see ye," he replied. "Feelin' better, eh?"
"I haven't been sick. What are ye givin' me, Zeb?"
"Ye haven't, eh? Well, from all accounts, ye've been up to queer pranks of late. How did the sewin'-circle come along?"
"Oh, I see," and Abner sat down upon a box. "Ye've been hearin' somethin'."
Zeb did not reply, but went on quietly with his work.
"What are ye makin', Zeb?"
"What de ye think I'm makin'? A baby carriage?"
"Looks to me like a goose-poke."
"So it is; de ye want one?"
"De ye think I do?" Abner snapped.
"Well, judgin' from ye'r actions yesterday, one wouldn't come fer astray."
"Here, never mind that racket, Zeb. I've had enough of it. What's the news?"
"News! Lots of it: Joe Preston in the hospital, his assailant in jail, Lawyer Rackshaw's been givin' a rat-party, an' Abner Andrews has been holdin' a free entertainment at Mrs. Dugan's. That's some news, isn't it?"
"Ah, git out. I know all about that, an' too much in fact. I want to know how Joe's gittin' along. Have ye heard?"
"Oh, he's on the mend, an' is makin' ready to git after you."
"He is?"
"Sure. He's had Rackshaw up to see him several times already. They're a pair, all right, an' I guess it's up to you to git busy if ye expect to come off with a whole skin."
"H'm," Abner sniffed, "I don't care a snap of me finger fer 'em."
"But ye will, let me tell ye that," and Zeb laid down the stick he was holding in his hand and looked at his neighbor. "Yell lose ye'r place if ye don't do somethin'. Ye must git a lawyer, Abner, to defend ye."
"But I can't afford one, Zeb."
"An' ye can't afford to do without one, it seems to me."
"Mebbe so." And Abner sighed. "Guess I'll have to be me own lawyer as fer as I kin see. I'm pretty glib with the tongue."
"A pretty mess you'd make of it. Why, Rackshaw would wind you up in no time. He's mighty good on a case, so I've been told. An' he's tricky, too. Will stop at nuthin' to gain his point."
Just then an auto went by, filled with men.
"Who kin they be?" Abner enquired, watching the car as it disappeared amid a cloud of dust.
"Must be men from the Capital," was the reply. "There's to be an election soon, an' the members are gittin' busy, so I hear."
"An election! Why, I never heard a word about it."
"Oh, you were too busy with other things, Abner, so ye didn't hear. An', besides, ye don't take theWire, so how kin ye expect to know what's goin' on?"
"When's the 'lection to take place, Zeb?"
"Next month, an' it's goin' to be a hard fight. That railroad business has put the Government in a bad hole."
"So I've heard. Graftin', eh?"
"I never knew of anythin' like it. Why, every one of the whole bunch, from the premier down, has been gittin' his rake-off."
"I know somethin' about it, Zeb. All them fellers who were in with the government bunch got big slices, whether they did any work or not. One man got ten thousand dollars fer whistlin' the right tune, an' another got over a hundred thousand fer winkin' with his left eye at the right instant. Oh, I've heard lots about it."
"An' it's true, Abner. True as the Gospel. An' them same fellers are comin' to you an' me to ask us to re-elect 'em."
"We won't do it, Zeb."
The latter turned and looked intently at his visitor.
"What about that place of yours, Abner?"
"Well, what about it?"
"Don't ye know? If ye buck that government bunch ye'll not stand a ghost of a chance to git anythin' fer ye'r gravel hill. But they might do somethin' big if ye side with 'em."
"De ye mean to insinuate, Zeb, that they kin buy me?"
"Not exactly that, but ye might make a better deal if ye rub 'em the right way."
"H'm. I'll rub 'em the right way, Zeb. There's only one right way to rub them fellers, an' that's the way I rubbed Joe Preston the other mornin'."
"An' git into trouble, Abner."
"Mebbe so. But when wasn't I in trouble? I've been more or less in trouble ever since I was born, an' I'll be that way as long as there's snakes an' skunks in the country."
Abner rose to his feet, pulled out his pipe, and started to fill it.
"Say, Zeb," he presently began, "I wish ye'd give me a hand this mornin'."
"What is it ye want?"
"Help me to fix up me woodshed, will ye? We've had a big surprise at our house."
"Should say ye had. Twins one night an' triplets the next day. Rapid increase, that. How's the missus?"
Abner struck a match and paid no attention to this sally.
"Yes, we've had a big surprise," he continued. "A team came from town last night with a hull load of cots, mattresses, boxes of clothin' an' dear knows what all."
"Ye don't tell!" Zeb was much interested now. "Where did they come from?"
"Guess it's some of Belle's doin's. She's written to her pa an' some friends, if I'm not mistaken, tellin' 'em about the kids we've taken under our roof, an' they sent the things. Why, the dooryard is filled chock-a-block."
"Where are ye goin' to put 'em, Abner?"
"In the woodshed. It's got to be fixed up, an' I want ye to give me a hand this mornin'. Tildy an' the gals have taken the kids over to the island to pick berries, an' I want to have it all done when they come back. It'll be a kind of surprise."
"What are ye goin' to do?"
"Fix the floor an' walls, an' partition off a part of the shed. It'll make a dang fine place, an' I've got the boards. Will ye give me a hand?"
"Sure," was the ready response. "I'll go right along. I ain't very busy this mornin'. I was only makin' a goose-poke. That gander of mine is a reg'lar old nick fer crawlin' through small holes in the fence. But I guess this'll keep him in, all right."
"It's a pity ye can't make pokes fer men as easy as ye kin fer ye'r old gander, Zeb. I'd order two right off, one fer Ikey Dimock an' t'other fer Lawyer Rackshaw. There should be a law passed makin' goose-pokes necessary fer some people who are allus botherin' their neighbors."
"Ye couldn't git that law passed, Abner."
"Why not?"
"'Cause them who make the laws 'ud be the first ones to use the pokes. They'd be carryin' 'em around all the time."
"Ho, ho, I guess ye'r right, Zeb. But come on, an' let's git at that job."
For two hours the men worked upon the woodshed, and at the end of that time they had made excellent progress. The walls and the floor had been repaired, the partition put up, and the place thoroughly swept.
"There, I guess that's some work," Abner remarked, as he critically surveyed the room. "Doesn't take us long to do a job when we once git at it, eh, Zeb?"
"Let's finish it, though," was the reply. "We might as well fix up the cots while we're about it."
"Sure, an' have everythin' ready when the folks git back. My, won't they be surprised. An' Orphan Home built in two hours! I wonder what them slow-pokes in town would think of that."
They had just begun to carry in the cots, when an auto stopped before the house, and the impatient call of a klaxon sounded forth.
"It's the same men who went by when we were in the shop," Zeb explained. "Must be them members after ye'r vote, Abner. They want ye to go out. Listen to the noise that thing's makin'."
"Jerry'll like that," was the reply. "He must be shiverin' with delight. Let 'em keep it up."
And keep it up they did for a whole minute, while Zeb and Abner went on with their work.
"Hi there," shouted an impatient voice. "Are you deaf?"
Abner winked at Zeb.
"S'pose we let 'em think we are deaf," he suggested. "I don't like their gall. Anyway, we might as well have a little fun, so let's bring down their topsails. They're carryin' too much sail fer sich crafts."
"All right, Abner, I'm game," Zeb agreed. "But be careful."
"Oh, I'll be as keerful as I was with Joe Preston. You jist go on with the work as if ye didn't hear nuthin', an' let me handle this show. But, say, they're runnin' the car into the yard. What impudence!"
When a short distance away from the back door the auto was stopped, and the man who had previously spoken asked why in the devil no one had answered when spoken to. Zeb was hard at work, thus leaving Abner to face the irritated man.
"Didn't you hear what I said?" the stranger roared.
"Hey?" Abner asked, coming close to the car, and putting his left hand up to his ear.
"Why, the old fool's deaf!" the man exclaimed, turning to his companions. "Good Lord! Have I got to yell everything to him! Look here," he shouted, leaning well over the side of the car, "are you Abner Andrews?"
"Oh, huntin' rabbits, are ye?" Abner's face cleared as he spoke. "Well, ye've come to a poor place, an' it's the wrong time of the year, anyway. Better wait till winter. They're good eatin' then."
"I didn't say 'rabbits,'" the man again yelled. "I said 'are you Abner Andrews?'"
"Don't mention it. I allus like to give a lift if I kin. But I advise yez to wait till winter," Abner solemnly replied.
"Oh, h—l!" the man exclaimed in disgust. "What am I to do? He's stone deaf."
"Ask him something else," one of his companions suggested.
"Is this your place?" the man once more roared.
"Is this my face?" Abner queried. "Sure, whose de ye s'pose it is?"
"Your place," the man roared again.
"Oh, place. Well, why didn't ye say so? Sartinly, it's my place. What de ye want to know fer?"
"Will you sell?"
"Have I a well? Yes, and a good one, too. De ye want a drink?"
The other three occupants of the car were highly amused, and made all kinds of remarks.
"Speak louder, Tom," one advised. "You're only whispering."
"Speak yourself, then," was the retort. "Don't you see I'm splitting my lungs shouting to the old fool?"
"Get up closer," another urged with a laugh.
"Ugh! I'm as close as I want to be now. He smells like a pig-pen."
"Why not try that other old cuss," the third suggested, motioning to Zeb. "Surely he's not deaf."
Acting on this advice, the spokesman looked at Abner, and pointed to Zeb, who had just come out of the woodshed. But Abner shook his head.
"He's deaf as a post," was the reply. "He can't hear nuthin'. Ye'll have to talk to me."
Tom fetched a big sigh, looked around in despair, and mopped his perspiring brow.
"What in the world are we to do?" he panted. "We must find out if he will sell, and how much he wants. Dimock's support depends upon our getting this place. I'd let him go to the devil, where he belongs, if election wasn't so near."
"Write out your questions, Tom," came the suggestion. "That's the easiest way."
"Why, sure. We might have thought of it sooner."
Whipping out his note-book and pencil he scribbled down a few lines, and handed the book to Abner. The latter took it, and studied it for a few seconds.
"So yez are the Directors of the Big Draw Railway, eh?" he drawled. "I thought mebbe yez were government heelers. An' yez want to buy my place? Well, that's interestin'."
"Is the gravel good?" Tom again wrote.
"Good," Abner mused, as he carefully studied the words. "Well, I never heard anythin' to the contrary. It was behavin' itself the last time I saw it. It's never done any swearin' or cheatin' to my knowledge. It minds its own bizness, which is more'n I kin say of most people."
These words caused the men in the car to laugh uproariously. Abner seemed surprised at their merriment, and looked enquiringly at the spokesman.
"Have yez all been drinkin'?" he asked. "Better leave it alone, young men. It's bad fer the health."
"We've not been drinking," Tom wrote. "We're as dry as old Parson Jackson. How much gravel have you and how deep is it?"
"Let me see," and Abner scratched his head. "Oh I guess fifty acres, more or less, good gravel. An' it's deep, too. Why, it's as deep as any government grafter ye ever saw, an' as unsartin. It's so shifty ye jist never know what it's goin' to do next."
"Will you sell?" was the next question written.
"Sell? Well, that all depends. I was thinkin' of keepin' the place, as I might want it several hundred years from now. But mebbe it 'ud be as well to git clear of it when the chance comes. If I'm to have a mansion in the sky, as I've heard about, no doubt there'll be lots of ground around the buildin', enough anyway, fer my purpose."
The men in the auto looked at one another in surprise.
"Why, I believe the old chap's batty," one remarked. "He's talking blooming nonsense. He'll have a mansion here on earth pretty soon, with keepers, too, if I'm not much mistaken."
"Never mind that," Tom replied. "All we want is his place, and he can go to the Asylum or to the devil for all I care. I'm sick and tired of the old fool." He then wrote another question.
"How much do you want for your place?"
"How much?" and Abner looked lingeringly over toward the big gravel hill. "Well, I want all I kin git, an' a darn sight more, if ye don't mind."
"But how much?" came the next question.
"How much? Let me see. Oh, I guess fifteen thousand'll do, though I hate to sacrifice the place."
"Fifteen thousand!" the men in the car fairly rose from their seats.
"Too much," Tom wrote.
"So I imagined," Abner drawled. "Too much fer me to git, but not enough fer the grafters, eh? Ye'r willin' to pay one man a hundred thousand fer winkin' at the right minute, an' another fifty thousand fer holdin' his tongue. Ye didn't consider twenty thousand too much to give Ben Slosson fer twelve acres of land, an' most of it mud an' rocks at that, did ye?"
Abner now saw that the men were becoming angry and impatient, and it greatly amused him. All but Tom agreed to leave at once and not waste any more time.
"I'm going to have another crack at him, though," and Tom wrote another question.
"Ye'll give me two thousand, will ye?" Abner queried. "Well, there's nuthin' doin'; then, so yez might as well trot off. It's fifteen thousand or nuthin'."
"But we can expropriate your place," Tom again wrote.
"What's that thing?" Abner asked.
"The Government can take your place and give you what they like. They have the power."
"They have, eh? Well, let 'em try, that's all. Let the hull dang bunch come. I'm the government here, an' I intend to be so. I've paid fer me place, an' until I git what it's worth I intend to keep it. So, good-day to yez all, an' give my compliments to Ikey Dimock, an' thanks fer ye'r personal remarks."
At these words the four men started, while an expression of consternation appeared upon their faces.
"Did you hear what we said?" Tom asked.
"Sure; how could I help it?"
"And you're not deaf?"
"Jist as deaf as he is," and Abner motioned to Zeb.
"You old devil!" Tom roared, now wild with rage. "What did you mean by deceiving us?"
"An' what did yez all mean by comin' here an' tryin' to buy me place fer two thousand dollars, that yez might sell it to the Government fer a big sum, an' divvy up with Ikey Dimock? Tell me that."
"But we didn't," Tom protested. "We are honest men."
"H'm, honest men," Abner snorted. "I've got ears like a deer an' eyes like a hawk. Ye can't fool me with any of ye'r tricks. If I am an' 'old cuss', 'fit fer the lunatic asylum,' an' 'smell like a pig-pen', I've got a few ounces of sense left yit, thank the Lord."
The visitors were completely confounded. They were furious, and made no attempt to conceal their anger. They swore and vowed what they would do. But Abner only smiled in a most tantalizing manner, and stood watching as they backed the car out of the yard and sped rapidly away.
"Well, Zeb, how did she go?" he asked, turning to his companion, who was standing by his side.
"Say, Abner, you should be a politician or an actor," was the reply. "You'd make ye'r fortune at either."
"I'm goin' to make it, Zeb, jist as Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, an' nuthin' else. I guess a man needs to be a politician or an actor no matter who he is, to keep step with them beauties. Ho, ho, weren't they surprised when I opened up on 'em! Thought we was both deaf, ha, ha. Come in, Zeb, an' let's have dinner on this. Tildy's left some things in the house. 'Old cuss,' 'batty,' 'smells like a pig-pen.' Ho, ho, that's the best yit."