DOWN BY THE RIVER
The neglected cattle had been having a fine time roving at will
wherever their fancy led. They had left the uninviting rectory grounds
and were revelling in their master's turnip patch when discovered by
Mrs. Jukes. When the men at last arrived and dislodged them from this
delectable spot, they scampered across the fields, trampling through
the young corn and potato patch until they reached the peas, beets and
carrots, where they stopped for another feast. Jake was almost in
despair. He shouted frantically, waved his arms, and hurled stones at
his wayward herd. It was only with the greatest difficulty that the
cattle were at last rounded up in the barn-yard, and the gate closed.
Mrs. Jukes had taken an important part in this affair, and now stood
facing her crestfallen husband, with her eyes ablaze with anger. The
presence of the stranger did not deter her in the least.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Breakfast has been ready for
half an hour, and if it hadn't been for me, the cows would have eaten
everything up on the place. Were you asleep?"
"I--I was gettin' a man to help with the work," Jake stammered. "He's
here now."
"H'm," and Mrs. Jukes tossed her head. "I guess there wouldn't have
been any need for a man to help with the work if the cows had been left
much longer. Where did you come from, Empty?" and she turned toward
the youth standing near Douglas.
"I was fishin'," the lad replied.
"Had your breakfast yet?"
"Naw."
"Well, come in, then, and have a bite. You've earned it all right this
morning. Bring your help in, Jake. I guess there's enough for all."
Mrs. Jukes' anger soon passed, and by the time they reached the house
she was in a more pleasant frame of mind. She was a bright, active
little body, and Douglas won her friendship at once by the interest he
took in her two children, a girl of six and a boy of three. While Mrs.
Jukes was busy placing the breakfast upon the table, Douglas had the
children on his knees, and was asking them their names and quizzing
them about the things in which they were interested. Though very busy,
Mrs. Jukes noticed this, and she felt greatly pleased at the attention
the stranger paid to her offspring. She noted, as well, his refined
face, his gentle manner, and the words he used, for Mrs. Jukes had been
a school teacher before she married, and, according to her husband, she
had "a great deal of larnin'." She knew enough, at least, to keep Jake
in his place, and to make him attend strictly to his work, with the
result that their farm was the best cultivated one in the community.
"You sit here, sir," she told Douglas, putting a chair in place. "I'm
sorry there isn't more for breakfast. I didn't expect company this
morning."
"Why, this is a meal fit for a king," Douglas replied. "It's been
years since I've eaten pancakes, ham and gravy. And that bread looks
good, too. Did you bake it yourself, Mrs. Jukes?"
"Oh, yes, I do all my own cooking. But that bread isn't as good as I
generally make. We just opened a new barrel of flour, and it doesn't
seem to be as good as the last we had."
"It's no wonder that you are the best wrestler in the parish," Douglas
remarked to Jake.
"Why?" the farmer asked, with his mouth full of pancake.
"Because of what you eat. Wouldn't any one be strong with such food as
this?"
"But you put me down, though," Jake acknowledged, "an' you haven't been
eatin' sich grub."
"Ah, it wasn't my strength, remember. It was simply a little trick I
learned years ago."
"Will ye larn me the trick?" Jake asked. "I'd like to try it on Joe
Preston the next time we have a bout together. My, it would surprise
him."
"What, were you two wrestling this morning?" Mrs. Jukes enquired.
"Yep, an' he put me down," her husband explained. "Ye should have seen
the way he did it, Susie. I struck the ground kerflop, right on my
shoulders, an' they are sore yit from the thump."
No one noticed the look of wonder mingled with admiration upon Empty's
face as Jake uttered these words. He forgot to eat, as he watched
Douglas across the table. Any one who could put down the champion of
Rixton was a marvel in Empty's eyes, and worthy of more than a passing
notice. He had not forgotten how this stranger had taken his part down
by the big elm, and would not let Jake hit him the second time.
Mrs. Jukes was almost as much surprised as Empty. Though she could
handle her husband and make him do what she wished, she, nevertheless,
had a great admiration for his prowess as a wrestler, and was proud of
his standing in the community. It was his local renown which had
appealed to her when she was teaching school in Rixton, and had enabled
Jake to capture her from his rivals, for Susie Perkins had been greatly
admired and sought after by the young men of the place.
"Do you know anything about farm work?" she asked.
"I was brought up on a farm, and should know something about it,"
Douglas replied.
"But you haven't done any hard work of late, have you?"
"How do you know that?"
"Oh, I can tell by your hands. They are not hard and rough like
Jake's, for instance, and your face is not burnt as if you had been out
working in the sun."
Douglas smiled, and held up his hands for inspection.
"Please do not judge by these," he replied, "but rather by my brain,
heart and feet. They are all pretty well worn. A week or so in the
field will remedy the defects of my face and hands, and make them more
like your husband's."
"I'm goin' to try ye out fer a week," Jake remarked, "an' if ye
understand hayin' as well as ye do wrestlin' ye're the man fer me."
"Just for my board and lodging," Douglas added.
"Well, that's fer you to say."
"I prefer it that way."
"It's settled, then," and Jake pushed back his chair and rose from the
table. "We must do the milkin', and then git into the field. There's
a heap of hay to come in to-day, an' we can't dilly-dally."
Douglas soon proved that he was no novice at farm work, and he won
Jake's approval by the quick and efficient way he was able to milk.
But it was when once out in the field he showed what he could do.
Though not hardened to the work, he exhibited his knowledge of mowing
with the scythe or the machine, as well as raking and putting up the
hay in bunches ready to be hauled in that afternoon.
It was a bright, beautiful day, and Douglas found it good to be out
there in the open instead of being shut up in the crowded city. He was
almost like a boy in his joy and enthusiasm. Everything appealed to
him and brought back memories of other days; the fragrant scent of the
new-mown hay, the zig-zagging butterflies, and the birds darting here
and there. Though the day was hot and the perspiration at times stood
out in beads on his forehead, yet he was more contented than he had
been for a long time. "Why did I ever leave the country?" he asked
himself. "What life so free and happy as this?" Then the thoughts
which had entered his mind the night before came to him once again.
"Would it not be better to live in God's open, and rove at will?" he
mused. "Why should I be a slave any longer, and conform to a dry
ecclesiastical system? Better to follow nature and the dictates of my
own heart. What is the use of striving to help others when they do not
wish to be helped?"
He found Jake a capital companion. He was not a driver, but an
encourager, and when once he saw that a man was doing his best, he was
satisfied.
"Ye're all right," he told Douglas that evening after the chores had
been done, and they were resting for a while on a log near the house.
"I suppose ye feel a little sore?"
"Not yet," Douglas replied, "but I expect to be rather stiff in the
morning after to-day's work. It will take me a little while to get
hardened up, and then I'm going to have a wrestling bout with you. My,
how calm the water is to-night," and he turned his eyes upon the
peaceful river away to the left. "I'm going down to have a swim. The
last one I had was in the harbour."
"In the harbour!" Jake exclaimed in amazement. "What in the world were
ye swimmin' there fer?"
"Oh, I'll tell you some day when I've got nothing else to do. Where's
the best place for a swim?"
"Most anywhere, but ye'll find the water extry good down by that old
pine tree," and Jake pointed away to the left. "There are no weeds
there."
It took Douglas but a few minutes to reach the river, and he walked
slowly along the shore. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the
water, and the trees along the bank were mirrored in the clear depths.
How good it was to be in such a place where he could think to his
heart's content. No sign of human life was here, and the sweet song of
a vesper sparrow was the only sound which broke the stillness of the
evening. So far, he had not found Rixton to be the terrible place it
had been painted, and he was beginning to think that what he had heard
was mere legend. He had found the Jukes very agreeable people, at any
rate, and he believed that his stay with them would be most pleasant.
Having reached the old pine, he sat down upon the sand and bent forward
to unlace his shoes. His attention, however, was suddenly arrested by
the sound of violin music to his left. That it was no amateur who was
playing he was well aware, but one skilled in the art. At any time
such music would have appealed to him, but on an evening like this, and
amid such surroundings, the effect was greatly enhanced. For a few
minutes he sat and listened, afraid to move lest the charm should be
dispelled. The music thrilled his soul with a peculiar feeling of
responsibility. It seemed like a passionate cry for help, mingled with
a desire for sympathy and understanding. It was quite evident that the
unknown minstrel had suffered, and was pouring forth upon the still
evening air the deep emotions of the heart. Others might hear
differently, but there was only one interpretation he could give to the
enchanting sound.
Presently there came to him a desire to see this skilled musician. He
was beginning to realise that Rixton, no matter what others might say,
was becoming a most interesting place. To encounter in one day a
wrestler like Jake Jukes, and a violinist such as he was now hearing,
made his coming to the parish really worth while.
Looking along the shore from whence the music came, Douglas could see
nothing but trees. Stepping back, however, a few paces, he obtained a
better view, and beheld not far away three persons near a large tree
which was bending over the water. One was an old man seated upon the
ground, with a young girl by his side. He could not distinguish their
faces, but they were evidently listening with rapt attention to a young
woman who was standing nearby playing upon a violin. Douglas noted
with admiration her lithe form, and the graceful poise of her head. So
the musician was a woman! It came to him as a surprise, for in his
mind he had pictured a man alone on the shore, giving expression to his
feelings. He longed to draw nearer, that he might see her better and
look into her eyes. A soul and a hand that could produce such music
could belong only to a person of more than ordinary beauty, so he
imagined. But he knew that if he ventured forth the charm would be
broken, and he would be looked upon as an intruder. No, it was better
for him to remain where he was that he might listen and adore unseen.
As he stood there and watched, the music suddenly ceased. He saw the
girl sitting on the ground rise to her feet, take the old man by the
hand, and lead him away. The musician alone remained, and with the
violin under her arm she leaned against the tree. Was she tired?
Douglas wondered. Why did she not go with the others? He was not left
long in doubt, however, for in a few minutes a man emerged from among
the trees and approached the waiting woman. Ah, she had remained to
meet her lover, and no doubt her music had been meant for him. Perhaps
he had been near at hand all the time, waiting a favourable opportunity
to speak to her. Was the old man her father who objected to her lover?
And was the young girl her sister who was in league with her? These
thoughts passed through Douglas' mind as he stood there. It did not
seem right that he should be watching these two, and yet there was
something which restrained him from going away at once. They did not
seem altogether like lovers, for the young woman had stepped back as
the man drew near, and kept retreating slightly whenever he approached
too close.
Douglas could not hear a word that was being said, but the strange
manner of the two interested him greatly. It was evident that they
were engaged in an earnest conversation, though the man seemed to be
doing most of the talking.
For some time the two stood near the old tree, while the shades of
night deepened over the land. At length, they moved away, walking side
by side, and soon disappeared among the trees. Douglas' interest was
much aroused and he felt that there was some mystery connected with
what he had witnessed. He longed to know something about the
violinist, where she had learned to play in such a remarkable manner,
and the reason of the strange compelling music.
Lost in such thoughts, he forgot all about his intended swim. He left
the old pine tree and slowly retraced his steps along the shore. It
was dark by the time he reached the house. He felt tired after his
day's work, and was glad to go at once to the little bedroom which Mrs.
Jukes had prepared for his use.