I heard him talking rapidly and clearly, not as one talks aloud in
soliloquy, but as if he were addressing somebody. I stepped carefully in
through the fringe of trees and I found out that Zebulon Kingsley _was_
talking to somebody; he was talking to God!
I listened five seconds and I realized what he was talking about. Then I
leaped on him and struck his wrist with the edge of my hand.
He dropped a fat, ugly revolver which had glinted in the starlight. I
pounced on it and flung it into the woods as far as muscle, fright,
and anger could prevail. When I turned on the judge he had just tugged
another revolver out of his pocket, twin of the other weapon. I had a
tussle with him to get it, and he fairly squealed in his fury. But I
wrenched the thing out of his clutch and threw it; then I pulled him to
his feet and patted him all over, as a policeman frisks a prisoner, to
make sure that he was not serving as arsenal for more artillery.
“Judge Kingsley,” I kept saying over and over, “your wife! Your
daughter! Think of them!”
I was obliged to drag him out of the woods by main strength. I propelled
him along the highway and he walked as stiffly as some kind of a wooden
figure, moved by springs. His eyes stared straight ahead and his face
was white in the starlight.
So we came into the village without a word between us, and I led him by
dark lanes to his house.
Then he held back and replied to what I had said in the woods as if I
had just spoken.
“I _am_ thinking of them! That’s why I can’t face them!”
Oh, the tone in which he said that! Questions were crowding in my
throat, but I did not dare to pry into troubles as deep as Judge
Kingsley’s most certainly were. But I had to have some assurance from
him.
“Judge Kingsley,” I said, with respect in my voice, “I am meddling, but
God knows there was a call for somebody to meddle just now.”
“I want to be out of my troubles!” He was trembling like a leaf.
“But you’re not so much of a coward, Judge, that you’ll shift off all of
your troubles on to your family, along with the awful one you were just
about to shove on them! I know you’re not. I have always looked up to
you, sir.”.
“But nobody can look up to me from now on, young man!”
“I always shall, sir. We all get rattled some time in our lives.” I knew
I was making pretty poor talk to a man like Judge Kingsley, but I was
trembling as badly as he was and I did not know what to say to him.
“I’m only poor Ross Sidney, sir. You know I don’t amount to much, but
won’t you consider that I have done a little something for you this
night? I stopped you when you didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I did know what I was doing,” he groaned. “I was doing it because I
couldn’t go home. I walked up the road to the woods--to my woods on
purpose to do it!”
It came to me that fate, or whatever rules human actions, had set me to
play quite a part in Judge Kingsley’s life, for his private woods were
not there--and _I_ was.
“Will you consider me enough of a man, sir, so that I can ask a
man-to-man promise that you’ll sleep on this thing and have a talk with
me to-morrow? I have helped you on one matter. I’ll do my best to help
you in other ways!”
“There’s no help for me.”
“But let me have a talk to-morrow with you! I beg you, Judge Kingsley.
Give me your promise till tomorrow!”
He stiffened up and scowled at me. He resented what I said, I could see.
I guess he thought I was trying to be too familiar with him. The old
chap’s pride was still on tap. I suppose it seemed like lowering his
dignity to make any sort of a man’s compact with young Ross Sidney.
However, I was glad to see pride bristle up a bit in him.
“I never heard of a Kingsley being a coward, Judge,” I told him. “Or
being a liar, either! You owe me something, sir, and I’ll insist on
being paid with your promise. So I reckon I have it.” I did not give him
opportunity to do any talking. I rang the bell at the door, though he
grabbed at my hand to stop me.
“I can’t go in now! My face--my conscience!” So his conscience was still
working!
“Leave it all to me, sir. I’ll fix it.”
The maid opened the door, and I led him into the sitting-room. Celene
and her mother were there and they came to their feet, gasping with
fright, for I was half carrying the judge.
“It’s nothing--it’s all right!” I told them. “We have been inspecting
the work in the wood-lot on the way from the train. It’s nothing, I
say--just a little touch of the heart. The judge insisted on walking
too much.” I helped him to a couch. “I’ll call in the morning on that
business, sir!” I told him. Then I turned to Celene, who was giving me
warm welcome with her eyes, now that her fears were subsiding. “Keep
your eye on your father during the night,” I advised her. “Of course,
it’s nothing serious in his case--only a little overtasking of the
heart--but a bit of home nursing will do him good.”
I reckoned I had planted a loyal sentinel over the man who was indebted
to me for giving him more days of his life, even though they might be
bitter days.
I went to Dodovah Vose’s tavern, feeling still more like an overloaded
mule--saddled with plenty of my own troubles, to say nothing of other
folks’.