A FRIENDLY PROLOGUE.
As they went from the place of registration to their dinner at the
hotel, the sheriff, walking beside the chairman, said: "I spoke
to Le Moyne about that negro fellow, Eliab Hill, and he says he's
very willing to tell you all he knows about him; but, as there are
some private matters connected with the story, he prefers to come
to your room after dinner, rather than speak of it more publicly."
"I am sure I shall be much obliged to him if he will do so," said
Pardee.
"You will find him one of the very finest men you ever met, I'm
thinking," continued Gleason. "His father, Casaubon Le Moyne, was
very much of a gentleman. He came from Virginia, and was akin
to the Le Moynes of South Carolina, one of the best of those old
French families that brag so much of their Huguenot blood. I never
believed in it myself, but they are a mighty elegant family; no
doubt of that. I've got the notion that they were not as well off
as they might be. Perhaps the family got too big for the estate.
That would happen with these old families, you know; but they were
as high-toned and honorable as if their fore-bears had been kings.
Not proud, I don't mean--not a bit of that--but high-spirited and
hot-tempered.
"His mother was a Richards--Hester Richards--the daughter of old
man Jeems Richards. The family was a mighty rich one; used to own
all up and down the river on both sides, from Red Wing to Mulberry
Hill, where Hesden now lives. Richards had a big family of boys and
only one gal, who was the youngest. The boys was all rather tough
customers, I've heard say, taking after their father, who was about
as hard a man to get along with as was ever in this country. He
came from up North somewhere about 1790, when everybody thought this
pea-vine country was a sort of new Garden of Eden. He was a well
educated and capable man, but had a terrible temper. He let the
boys go to the devil their own way, just selling off a plantation
now and then and paying their debts. He had so much land that
it was a good thing for him to get rid of it. But he doted on the
gal, and sent her off to school and travelled with her and give her
every sort of advantage. She was a beauty, and as sweet and good
as she was pretty. How she come to marry Casaubon Le Moyne nobody
ever knew; but it's just my opinion that it was because they loved
each other, and nothing else. They certainly were the best matched
couple that I ever saw. They had but one child--this young man
Hesden. His mother was always an invalid after his birth; in fact
hasn't walked a step since that time. She was a very remarkable
woman. though, and in spite of her sickness took charge of her
son's education and fitted him for college all by herself. The
boy grew up sorter quiet like, probably on account of being in his
mother's sick room so much; but there wasn't anything soft about
him, after all.
"The old man Casaubon was a Unioner--the strongest kind. Mighty few
of them in this county, which was one of the largest slave-holding
counties in the State. It never had anything but a big Democratic
majority in it, in the old times. I think the old man Le Moyne, run
for the Legislature here some seven times befo're he was elected,
and then it was only on his personal popularity. That was the only
time the county ever had a Whig representative even. When the war
came on, the old man was right down sick. I do believe he saw
the end from the beginning. I've heard him tell things almost to
a fraction jest as they came out afterward. Well, the young man
Hesden, he had his father's notions, of course, but he was pluck.
He couldn't have been a Le Moyne, or a Richards either, without
that. I remember, not long after the war begun--perhaps in the
second year, before the conscription came on, anyhow--he came into
town riding of a black colt that he had raised. I don't think it
had been backed more than a few times, and it was just as fine as
a fiddle. I've had some fine horses myself, and believe I know what
goes to make up a good nag, but I've never seen one that suited my
notion as well as that black. Le Moyne had taken a heap of pains
with him. A lot of folks gathered 'round and was admiring the
beast, and asking questions about his pedigree and the like, when
all at once a big, lubberly fellow named Timlow--Jay Timlow--said
it was a great pity that such a fine nag should belong to a Union
man an' a traitor to his country. You know, captain, that's what
we called Union men in them days. He hadn't more'n got the words
out of his mouth afore Hesden hit him. I'd no idea he could
strike such a blow. Timlow was forty pounds heavier than he, but
it staggered him back four or five steps, and Le Moyne follered
him up, hitting just about as fast as he could straighten his arm,
till he dropped. The queerest thing about it was that the horse
follered right along, and when Timlow come down with his face all
battered up, and Le Moyne wheeled about and started over to the
Court House, the horse kept on follerin' him up to the very steps.
Le Moyne went into the Court House and stayed about ten minutes.
Then he came out and walked straight across the square to where
the crowd was around Timlow, who had been washing the blood off
his face at the pump. Le Moyne was as white as a sheet, and Timlow
was jest a-cussing his level best about what he would do when he
sot eyes on him again. I thought there might be more trouble, and
I told Timlow to hush his mouth--I was a deputy then--and then I
told Le Moyne he mustn't come any nearer. He was only a few yards
away, with a paper in his hand, and that horse just behind him. He
stopped when I called him, and said:
"'You needn't fear my coming for any further difficulty, gentlemen.
I merely want to say'--and he held up the paper--' that I have
enlisted in the army of the Confederate States, and taken this horse
to ride--given him to the Government. And I want to say further,
that if Jay Timlow wants to do any fighting, and will go and enlist,
I'll furnish him a horse, too.'
"With that he jumped on his horse and rode away, followed by a
big cheer, while Jay Timlow stood on the pump platform sopping his
head with his handkerchief, his eyes as big as saucers, as they say,
from surprise. We were all surprised, for that matter. As soon as
we got over that a little we began to rally Timlow over the outcome of
his little fracas. There wasn't no such timber in him as in young
Le Moyne, of course--a big beefy fellow--but he couldn't stand
that, and almost before we had got well started he put on his hat,
looked round at the crowd a minute, and said, 'Damned if I don't do
it!' He marched straight over to the Court House and did it, too.
"Le Moyne stood up to his bargain, and they both went out in the
same company a few days afterward. They became great friends, and
they do say the Confederacy had mighty few better soldiers than
those two boys. Le Moyne was offered promotion time and again, but
he wouldn't take it. He said he didn't like war, didn't believe
in it, and didn't want no responsibility only for himself. Just
about the last fighting they had over about Appomattox--perhaps
the very day before the Surrender--he lost that horse and his
left arm a-fighting over that same Jay Timlow, who had got a ball
in the leg, and Le Moyne was trying to keep him out of the hands
of you Yanks.
"He got back after a while, and has been living with his mother on
the old plantation ever since. He married a cousin just before he
went into the service--more to have somebody to leave with his ma
than because he wanted a wife, folks said. The old man, Colonel
Casaubon, died during the war. He never seemed like himself after
the boy went into the army. I saw him once or twice, and I never
did see such a change in any man. Le Moyne's wife died, too. She
left a little boy, who with Le Moyne and his ma are all that's left
of the family. I don't reckon there ever was a man thought more
of his mother, or had a mother more worth setting store by, than
Hesden Le Moyne." They had reached the hotel when this account
was concluded, and after dinner the sheriff came to the captain's
room and introduced a slender young man in neatly fitting jeans,
with blue eyes, a dark brown beard, and an empty coat-sleeve, as
Mr. Hesden Le Moyne.
He put his felt hat under the stump of his left arm and extended
his right hand as he said simply:
"The sheriff said you wished to see me about Eliab Hill."
"I did," was the response; "but after what he has told me, I desired
to see you much more for yourself."
The sheriff withdrew, leaving them alone together, and they fell
to talking of army life at once, as old soldiers always will, each
trying to locate the other in the strife which they had passed
through on opposite sides.