Miss Mary Holden was a daughter of the Old Dominion, on the other side
of the Cumberland Range, and she came, of course, from fighting stock.
She had gone North to school and had come home horrified by--to put
it mildly--the Southern tendency to an occasional homicide. There had
been a great change, to be sure, within her young lifetime. Except under
circumstances that were peculiarly aggravating, gentlemen no longer
peppered each other on sight. The duel was quite gone. Indeed, the
last one at the old university was in her father's time, and had been,
he told her, a fake. A Texan had challenged another student, and the
seconds had loaded the pistols with blank cartridges. After firing
three times at his enemy the Texan threw his weapon down, swore that
he could hit a quarter every time at that distance, pulled forth two
guns of his own and demanded that they be used; and they had a terrible
time appeasing the Westerner, who, failing in humor, challenged then
and there every member of his enemy's fraternity and every member of
his own. Thereafter it became the custom there and at other institutions
of learning in the State to settle all disputes fist and skull; and of
this Miss Holden, who was no pacifist, thoroughly approved. Now she was
in a community where the tendency to kill seemed well-nigh universal.
St. Hilda was a gentle soul, who would never even whip a pupil. She
might not approve--but Miss Holden had the spirit of the pioneer and
she must lead these people into the light. So she told her plan next
day to Pleasant Trouble and Lum Chapman, who were first to come. Stolid
Lum would have shown no surprise had she proposed that the two boys
dive from a cliff, and if one survived he won; but the wonder and
the succeeding joy in Pleasant's face disturbed Miss Holden. And when
Pleasant swung his hat from his head and let out a fox-hunting yelp
of pure ecstasy she rebuked him severely, whereat the man with the
crutch lapsed into solemnity.
"Will they fight this way?" she asked.
"Them two boys will fight a bee-gum o' sucklin' wildcats--tooth
and toe-nail."
"They aren't going to fight that way," protested Miss Holden. "They will
fight by the Marquis of--er--Somebody's rules." She explained the best
she could the intervals of action and of rest, and her hearers were
vastly interested.
"They can't kick?" asked Pleasant.
"No."
"Ner bite?"
"No!"
"Ner gouge?"
"What do you mean by 'gouge'?" Pleasant pantomimed with a thumbnail
crooked on the outer edge of each eye-socket.
"No!" was the horrified cry.
"Jest a square, stand-up and knock-down fight?"
"Yes," she said reluctantly but bravely.
"Lum will be timekeeper and referee to make them break away when they
clinch." When she explained that Pleasant scratched his head.
"They can't even _wrassle_?" Miss Holden understood and did not correct.
"They can't even _wrassle_. And you and I will be the seconds."
"Seconds--whut do we do?"
"Oh, we--we fan them and--and wash off the blood," she shivered a little
in spite of herself. Pleasant smiled broadly.
"Which one you goin' to wash off?"
"I--I don't know." Pleasant grinned.
"Well, we better toss up fer it an' _atter they git hyeh_." She did not
understand his emphasis.
"Very well," she assented carelessly.
Up the road came Ham Cage now, and down the road came King Camp--both
with a rapid stride. Though both had sworn to shoot on sight, they had
kept away from each other as they had promised, and now without speaking
they glowered unwinking into each other's eyes. Nor did either ask a
question when the little teacher, with two towels over one arm, led the
way down the road, up over a little ridge, and down to a grassy hollow
by the side of a tinkling creek. It was hard for the girl to believe
that these two boys meant to shoot each other as they had threatened,
but Pleasant had told her they surely would, and that fact held her
purpose firm. Without a word they listened while she explained, and
without a word both nodded assent--nor did they show any surprise when
the girl repeated what she had told Pleasant Trouble and Lum Chapman.
"Jes' a plain ole square, stand-up an' knock-down fight," murmured
Pleasant consolingly, pulling forth a silver quarter, "Heads--you
wipe Ham; tails--you wipe King." Miss Holden nodded, and for the
first time the two lads turned their angry eyes from each other to
the girl and yet neither asked a question. Tails it was, and the
girl motioned King to a log on one side of the hollow, and Pleasant
and Ham to another log on the other side. She handed Pleasant one
of the towels, dropped her little watch into Lum's huge palm, and on
second thought took it back again: it might get broken, and Lum might
be too busy to keep time. Only Pleasant saw the gritting of Ham's teeth
when she took her stand by King's side.
"Take off your coats!" she said sharply. The two obeyed swiftly.
"Time!" she called, and the two leaped for each other.
"Stop!" she cried, and they halted. "I forgot--shake hands!"
Both shook their heads instead, like maddened bulls, and even Lum
looked amazed; he even spoke:
"Whut's the use o' fightin', if they shakes hands?"
Miss Holden had no argument ready, and etiquette was waived. "Time!"
she repeated, and then the two battering-rams, revolving their fists
country-fashion, engaged. Half-forgotten Homeric phrases began to flit
from a faraway schoolroom back into the little teacher's mind and she
began to be consoled for the absence of gloves--those tough old ancients
had used gauges of iron and steel. The two boys were evenly matched.
After a few thundering body blows they grew wary, and when the round
closed their faces were unmarked, they had done each other no damage,
and Miss Holden was thrilled--it wasn't so bad after all. Each boy
grabbed his own towel and wiped the sweat off his own face.
"Git at it, Ham--git at it!" encouraged Pleasant, and Ham got at it.
He gave King a wallop on the jaw; King came back with a jolt on the
chin, and the two embraced untenderly.
"Break away!" cried the girl. "Lum, make them break!" Lum thrust one
mighty arm between them and, as they flailed unavailingly over it,
threw them both back with a right-and-left sweep. Both were panting
when the girl called time, and the first blood showed streaming from
King's nose. Miss Holden looked a little pale, but gallantly she dipped
the towel in the brook and went about her work. Again Pleasant saw his
principal's jaw work in a gritting movement, and he chuckled encouragement
so loudly that the girl heard him and looked around indignantly. It was
inevitable that the seconds, even unconsciously, should take sides, and
that point was coming fast. The girl did not hear herself say:
"Shift your head and come back from underneath!" And that was what King
proceeded to do, and Ham got an upper-cut on the chin that snapped his
head up and sprinkled the blue sky with stars for him just as the bell
of the girl's voice sounded time. Meanwhile, up the road below them
came a khaki-clad youth and a girl--Polly Sizemore and one of her
soldier lovers who was just home on a furlough. Polly heard the noises
in the hollow, cocked an ear, put her finger on her lips, and led him
to the top of the little ridge whence she could peak over. Her amazed
eyes grew hot seeing the Mission girl, and she turned and whispered:
"That fotched-on woman's got 'em fightin'."
The soldier's face radiated joy indeed, and as unseen spectators the
two noiselessly settled down.
"Whur'd they learn to fight this way?" whispered the soldier--the army
had taught him. Polly whispered back:
"_She's_ a-larnin' 'em." The khaki boy gurgled his joy and craned his neck.
"Whut they fightin' about?" Polly flushed and turned her face.
"I--er--I don't know." The soldier observed neither her flush nor her
hesitation, for King and Ham were springing forward for another round;
he only muttered his disgust at their awkwardness and their ignorance
of the ring in terms that were strange to the girl by his side.
"The mutts, the cheeses, the pore dawgs--they don't know how to guard
an' they ain't _got_ no lefts."
Pleasant was advising and encouraging his principal now openly and in
a loud voice, and Ham's face began to twist with fury when he heard the
Mission girl begin to spur on King. With bared teeth he rushed forward
and through the wild blows aimed at him, got both underholds, and King
gave a gasping grunt as the breath was squeezed quite out of him.
"Break!" cried the girl. Lum tugged at the locked hand and wrist behind
King's back and King's hands flew to Ham's throat. "Break! Break!" And
Lum had literally to tear them apart.
"Time!" gasped the girl. She was on the point of tears now, but she
held them back and her mouth tightened--she would give them one more
round anyhow. When the battling pair rose Pleasant lost his head. He
let loose a fox-hunting yell. He forgot his duty and the rules; he
forgot the girl--he forgot all but the fight.
[Illustration]
"Let 'em loose!" he yelled. "Git at it boys! Go fer him,
Ham--whoop--ee--ee!" The girl was electrified. Lum began
cracking the knuckles of his huge fingers. Polly and the
soldier rose to their feet. That little dell turned eons
back. The people there wore skins and two cavemen who had
left their clubs at home fought with all the other weapons
they had. The Mission girl could never afterward piece out
the psychology of that moment of world darkness, but when
she saw Ham's crooked thumbs close to King's eyes a weird
and thrilling something swept her out of herself. Her watch
dropped to the ground. She rushed forward, seized two handfuls
of Ham's red hair, and felt Polly's two sinewy hands seizing
hers. Like a tigress she flashed about; just in time then came
the call of civilization, and she answered it with a joyous cry.
Bounding across the creek below came a tall young man, who stopped
suddenly in sheer amaze at the scene and as suddenly dashed on.
With hair and eyes streaming, the girl went to meet him and rushed
into his arms. From that haven she turned.
"It's a draw!" she said faintly. "Shake--" She did not finish
the sentence. Ham and King had risen and were staring at her
and the stranger. They looked at each other, and then saw Polly
sidling back to the soldier. Again they looked at each other,
grinned at each other, and, as each turned for his coat--clasped
hands.
"Oh!" cried the girl, "I'm so glad."
"This is not my brother," she said, leading the stranger forward.
If she expected to surprise them, she didn't, for in the hills
brothers and sisters do not rush into each other's arms. "It's
my sweetheart, and he's come to take me home. And you won't shoot
each other--you won't fight any more?" And Ham said:
"Not jes' at present"; and King laughed.
"I'm so glad."
Pleasant swung back to the Mission House with the two foreigners,
and on the way Miss Holden explained. The stranger was a merry
person, and that part of Happy Valley rang with his laughter.
"My! I wish I had got there earlier--what were they fighting about?"
"Why, Polly Sizemore, that pretty girl with black hair who lost her head
when--when--I caught hold of Ham." The shoulder of Pleasant Trouble that
was not working up and down over his crutch began to work up and down over
something else.
"What's the matter, Pleasant?" asked the girl.
"Nothin'." But he was grinning when they reached the steps of the Mission,
and he turned on Miss Holden a dancing eye.
"Polly nothin'--them two boys was a-fightin' about _you_!" And he left
her aghast and wheeled chuckling away.
Next afternoon the Marquise bade her little brood a tearful good-by
and rode with her lover up Happy Valley to go over the mountain, on
to the railroad, and back into the world. At the mouth of Wolf Run
Pleasant Trouble was waiting to shake hands.
"Tell Polly good-by for me, Pleasant," said Miss Holden. "She
wasn't there."
"Polly and the soldier boy rid up to the Leetle Jedge o' Happy Valley
last night to git married."
"Oh," said Miss Holden, and she flushed a little. "And Ham and King
weren't there--where do you suppose they are?" Pleasant pointed to a
green little hollow high up a ravine.
"They're up thar."
"Alone?" Pleasant nodded and Miss Holden looked anxious.
"They aren't fighting again?"
"Oh, no!"
"Do you suppose they are _really_ friends now?"
"Ham an' King air as lovin' as a pair o' twins," said Pleasant decidedly
and Miss Holden looked much pleased.
"What on earth are they doing up there?"
"Well," drawled Pleasant, "when they ain't huggin' an' shakin' hands
they're wrasslin' with a jug o' moonshine."
The Mission girl looked disturbed, and the merry stranger let loose
his ringing laugh.
"Oh, dear! Now, where do you suppose they got moonshine?"
"I tol' you," repeated Pleasant, "that I didn't know nobody who couldn't
git moonshine." Miss Holden sighed, her lover laughed again, and they rode
away, Pleasant watching them till they were out of sight.
"Whut I aimed to say was," corrected Pleasant mentally, "I didn't know
nobody who _knowed me_ that couldn't git it." And he jingled the coins
in his pockets that at daybreak that morning had been in the pockets of
Ham and King.