THE JUG ACQUAINTANCES.
With that dull, callous, rooted impudence,
Which, dead to shame and every nicer sense,
Ne'er blushed, unless, when spreading Vice's snares,
He stumbled on some virtue unawares.--CHURCHILL.
A YEAR has passed since the events recorded in the preceding pages,
and it is summer again. Far up, beside one of those tributaries of the
Mississippi, in the western portion of what is now the State of
Minnesota, stands a small cabin, such as the early settlers in new
countries build for themselves. About a quarter of a mile further up
the stream is a large Sioux village, separated from the hut by a
stretch of woods through which runs a well-worn footpath. This
arrangement the young missionary, Harvey Richter, preferred rather
than to dwell in the Indian village. While laboring with all his heart
and soul to regulate these degraded people, and while willing to make
their troubles and afflictions his own, he still desired a seclusion
where his domestic cares and enjoyments were safe from constant
interruption. This explains why his cabin had been erected at such a
distance from his people.
Every day, no matter what might be the weather, the missionary visited
the village, and each Sabbath afternoon, when possible, service was
held. This was almost invariably attended by the entire population,
who now listened attentively to what was uttered, and often sought to
follow the counsels uttered by the good man. A year's residence had
sufficed to win the respect and confidence of the Indians, and to
convince the faithful servant that the seed he had sown was already
springing up and bearing fruit.
About a mile from the river, in a dense portion of the wood, are
seated two persons, in friendly converse. But a glance would be
required to reveal that one of these was our old friend Teddy, in the
most jovial and communicative of moods. The other, painted and
bedaubed until his features were scarcely recognizable, and attired in
the gaudy Indian apparel, sufficiently explains his identity. A small
jug sitting between them, and which is frequently carried to the mouth
of each, may disclose why, on this particular morning, they seemed on
such confidential terms. The sad truth was that the greatest drawback
to Harvey Richter's ministrations was his own servant Teddy. The
Indians could not understand why he who lived constantly with the
missionary, should be so careless and reckless, and should remain
"without the fold," when the good man exhorted them in such earnest
language to become Christians. It was incomprehensible to their minds,
and served to fill more than one with a suspicion that all was not
what it should be. Harvey had spent many an hour with Teddy, in
earnest, prayerful expostulation, but, thus far, to no purpose.
For six months after the advent of the missionary and his wife,
nothing had been seen or heard of the strange hunter, when, one cold
winter's morning, as the former was returning from the village through
the path, a rifle was discharged, and the bullet whizzed within an
inch or two of his eyes. He might have believed it to be one of the
Indians, had he not secured a fair look at the man as he ran away. He
said nothing of it to his wife or Teddy, although it occasioned him
much trouble and anxiety of mind.
A month or two later, when Teddy was hunting in the woods, and had
paused a moment for rest, a gun was discharged at him, from a thick
mass of undergrowth. Certain that the unknown hunter was at hand, he
dashed in as before, determined to bring the transgressor to a
personal account. Teddy could hear him fleeing, and saw the agitation
of the undergrowth, but did not catch even a glimpse of his game.
While prosecuting the search, Teddy suddenly encountered an Indian,
staggering along with a jug in his hand. The savage manifested a
friendly disposition, and the two were soon seated upon the ground,
discussing the fiery contents of the vessel and exchanging vows of
eternal friendship. When they separated it was with the understanding
that they were to meet again in a couple of days.
Both kept the appointment, and since that unlucky day they had
encountered quite frequently. Where the Indian obtained the liquor was
a mystery, but it was an attraction that never failed to draw Teddy
forth into the forest. The effect of alcoholic stimulants upon persons
is as various as are their temperaments. The American Indian almost
always becomes sullen, vindictive and dangerous. Now and then there is
an exception, as was the case with the new-made friend of Teddy. Both
were affected in precisely a similar manner; both were jolly.
"Begorrah, but yees are a fine owld gintleman, if yer face does look
like a paint-jug, and ye isn't able to lay claim to one-half the
beauty meself possesses. That ye be," said Teddy, a few moments after
they had seated themselves, and before either had been affected by the
poisonous liquid.
"I loves you!" said the savage, betraying in his manner of speech a
remarkable knowledge of the English language. "I think of you when I
sleep--I think of you when I open my eyes--I think of you all the
time."
"Much obleeged; it's meself that thinks and meditates upon your beauty
and loving qualities all the time, barring that in which I thinks of
something else, which is about all the time--all the same to yer
honor."
"Loves you very much," repeated the savage; "love Mister Harvey, too,
and Miss Harvey."
"Then why doesn't ye come to hear him preach, ye rose of the
wilderness?"
"Don't like preaching."
"Did yees ever hear him?"
"Neber hear him."
"Yer oughter come; and that minds me I've never saan ye around the
village, for which I axes yees the raison?"
"Me ain't Sioux--don't like 'em."
"Whinever yees are discommoded with this jug, p'raps it wouldn't be
well for yees to cultivate the acquaintance of any one except meself,
for they might be dispoused to relave yees of the article, when yees
are well aware it's an aisy matter for us to do that ourselves. Where
does yees get the jug?"
[Illustration: "Where does yees get the jug?"]
"Had him good while."
"I know; but the contents I mean. Where is it ye secures the vallyble
contents?"
"Me get 'em," was the intelligent reply..
"That's what I've been supposing, that yees was gitting more nor your
share; so here's to prevint," remarked Teddy, as he inverted the jug
above his head. "Now, me butternut friend, what 'bjections have yees
to that?"
"All right--all be good--like Miss Harvey?"
Teddy stared at the savage, as if he failed to take in his question.
"Like Miss Harvey--good man's squaw--t'ink she be good woman?"
"The loveliest that iver trod the airth--bless her swate soul. She
niver has shpoken a cross word to Teddy, for all he's the biggest
scamp that iver brought tears to her eyes. If there be any thing that
has nigh fotched this ould shiner to his marrowbones it was to see
something glistening in her eyes," said the Irishman, as he wiped his
own. "God bliss Miss Cora," he added, in the same manner of speech
that he had been wont to use before she became a wife. "She might make
any man glad to come and live alone in the wilderness wid her. It's
meself that ought to be ashamed to come away and l'ave her alone by
herself, though I thinks even a wild baste would not harm a hair of
her blissid head. If it wasn't for this owld whisky-jug I wouldn't be
l'aving her," said Teddy, indignantly.
"How be 'lone?--Mister Harvey dere."
"No, he isn't, by a jug-full--barring the jug must be well-nigh empty,
and the divil save the jug, inny-how; but not until it's impty."
"Where Mr. Harvey go, if not in cabin?" asked the savage, betraying a
suspicious eagerness that would have been observed by Teddy upon any
other occasion.
"To the village, that he may preach and hould converse wid 'em. I
allers used to stay at home when he's gone, for fear that owld thaif
of a hunter might break into the pantry and shtail our wines--that is,
if we had any, which we haven't. Blast his sowl--that hunter I mane,
an' if iver I cotch him, may I be used for a flail if I don't settle
_his_ accounts."
"When Mister Harvey go to village?"
"Whin he plaises, which is always in the afternoon, whin his dinner
has had a fair chance to sittle. Does ye take him for a michanic, who
goes to work as soon as he swallows his bread and mate?" said the
Irishman, with official dignity.
"Why you not stay with squaw?"
"That's the raison," replied Teddy, imbibing from the vessel beside
him. "But you will plaise not call Miss Cora a _shquaw_ any more. If
ye does, it will be at the imminent risk of havin' this jug smashed
over yer head, afther the whisky is all gone, which it very soon will
be if a plug isn't put into your mouth."
"Nice woman--_much_ good."
"You may well say that, Mister Copperskin, and say nothing else. And
it's a fine man is Mister Harvey, barring he runs me purty close once
in a while on the moral quishtion. I'm afeard I shall have to knock
under soon. If I could but slay that thaif of a hunter that has been
poking around here, I think I could go the Christian aisy; but whin I
thinks of _that_ man, I faals like the divil himself. They's no use
tryin' to be pious whin _he's_ around; so pass the jug if ye don't
mane to fight meself."
"He bad man--much bad," said the savage, who had received an account
of him from his companion.
"I promised Master Harvey not to shoot the villain, excipt it might be
to save his life or me own; but I belave if I had the chance, I'd jist
conveniently _forgit_ me promise, and let me gun go off by accident.
St. Pathrick! _wouldn't_ I like to have a shindy wid the sn'akin,
mean, skulkin' assassin!"
"Does he want kill you?"
"Arrah, be aisy now; isn't it me master he's after, and what's the
difference? Barring I would rather it was meself, that I might sittle
it gintaaly wid him;" and Teddy, "squaring" himself, began to make
threatening motions at the Indian's head.
"Bad man--why not like Mr. Harvey?" said the savage, paying no
attention to Teddy's demonstrations.
"There yees has me. There's something atween 'em, though what it
might be none but Mr. Harvey himself knows, less it mought be the
misthress, that I don't belave knows a word on it. But what is it yer
business, Mr. Mahogany?"
"Mebbe Mr. Harvey hurt him some time--do bad with him," added the
Indian, betraying an evident interest in the subject.
"Begorrah, if yees can't talk better sinse nor that, ye'd bist put a
stopper on yer blab. The idaa of me master harming any one is too
imposterous to be intertained by a fraa and inlightened people--a fraa
and inlightened people, as I used to spell out in the newspapers at
home. But whisht! Ye are a savage, as don't know anything about Fourth
of July, an' all the other affections of the people."
"You dunno what mebbe he done."
"Do ye know?" asked Teddy, indignantly.
"Nebber know what he do--how me know?"
"Thin what does ye mane by talking in that shtyle? I warns ye, there's
some things that can't be passed atween us and that is one of 'em. If
ye wants to fight, jist you say that again. I'm aching for a shindy
anyhow: so now s'pose ye jist say that again." And Teddy began to show
unmistakable signs of getting ready.
"Sorry--didn't mean--feel bad." "Oh blarney! Why didn't ye stick to
it, and jist give me a chance to express meself? But all's right;
only, be careful and don't say anything like it again, that's all.
Pass along the jug, to wash me timper down, ye know."
By this time Teddy's ideas were beginning to be confused, and his
manner maudlin. He had imbibed freely, and was paying the
consequences. The savage, however, had scarcely taken a swallow,
although he had made as if to do so several times. His actions would
have led an inexperienced person to think that he was under the
influence of liquor; but he was sober, and his conduct was feigned,
evidently, for some purpose of his own. Teddy grew boisterous, and
insisted on constantly shaking hands and renewing his pledges of
eternal friendship to the savage, who received and responded to them
in turn. Finally, he squinted toward the westering sun.
"I told Mr. Harvey, when I left, I was going to hunt, and if I expects
to return to-day, I thinks, Mr. Black Walnut, we should be on our way.
The jug is intirely impty, so there is no occasion for us to remain
longer."
"Dat so--me leave him here."
"Now let's shake hands agin afore we rise."
The shaking of hands was all an excuse for Teddy to receive assistance
in rising to his feet. He balanced himself a moment, and stared around
him, with that aimless, blinking stare peculiar to a drunken man.
"Me honey, isn't there an airthquake agitatin' this solitude?" he
asked, steadying himself against a sapling, "or am I standing on a
jug?"
"Dunno--mebbe woods shake--feel him a little--earth must be sick,"
said the savage, feigning an unsteadiness of the head.
"Begorrah, but it's ourselves that's the sickest," laughed Teddy,
fully sensible of his sad condition. "It'll niver do to return to
Master Harvey in _this_ shtyle. There'd be a committee of
investigation appointed on the spot, an' I shouldn't pass muster
excipt for a whisky-barrel, och hone!"
"Little sick--soon be well--then shoot."
"I wonder now whether I could howld me gun straight enough to drop a
buffler at ten paces. There sits a bird in that tree that is grinning
at me. I'll t'ach him bitter manners."
The gun was discharged, the bullet passing within a few inches of the
head of the Indian, who sprung back with a grunt.
"A purty good shot," laughed Teddy; "but it _would_ be rayther
tiresome killing game, being I could only hit them as run behind me,
and being I can't saa in that direction, I'll give over the idaa; and
turn me undivided attention to fishing. Ah, divil a bit of difference
is it to the fish, whin a worm is on the right ind, whether a drunken
man or a gintleman is at the other."
The Indian manifested a readiness to assist every project of the
Irishman, and he now advised him to fish by all means, urging that
they should proceed to the river at once. But Teddy insisted upon
going to a small creek near at hand. The savage strongly demurred, but
finally yielded, and the two set out, making their way somewhat after
the fashion of a yoke of oxen.
Upon reaching the stream, Teddy, instead of pausing upon the bank,
continued walking on until he was splashing up to his waist in water.
Had it not been for the prompt assistance of the Indian, the poor
fellow most probably would have had his earthly career terminated.
This incident partially sobered Teddy, and made him ashamed of his
condition. He saw the savage was by no means so far gone as himself,
and he bewailed his foolishness in unmeasured terms.
"Who knows but Master Harvey has gone to the village, and Miss Cora
stands in the door this minute, 'xpacting this owld spalpaan?"
"No go till arternoon," said the savage.
"What time might it be jist now?"
"'Tain't noon yit--soon be--bimeby."
"It's all the same; I shan't be fit to go home afore night, whin I
might bist stay away altogether. And you, Mr. Copperskin, was the
maans of gittin' me in this trouble."
"_Me_ make you drink him?" asked the savage. "You not ax for jug, eh?
You not want him?"
"Yes, begorrah, it was me own fault. Whisky is me waikness. Its
illigant perfume always sits me wild fur it. Mister Harvey was
belaving, whin he brought me here, that I wouldn't be drinking any of
the vile stuff, for the good rais'n that I couldn't git none; but,
what'll he say now? Niver was I drunker at Donnybrook, and only once,
an' that was at me father's fourteenth weddin'."
"Don't want more?"
"NO!" thundered Teddy. "I hope I may niver see nor taste another drop
so long as I live. I here asserts me ancient honor agin, an' I defy
the jug, ye spalpeen of a barbarian what knows no better." Teddy's
reassertion of dignity was very ludicrous, for a tree had to support
him as he spoke; but he evidently was in earnest.
"Neber gib it--if don't want it."
"They say an Indian never will tell a lie to a friend," said Teddy,
dropping his voice as if speaking to himself. "Do you ever lie, Mr.
What's-your-name?"
"No," replied the savage, thereby uttering an unmitigated falsehood.
"You give me your promise, then, that ye'll niver furnish me anither
drap?"
"Yis."
"Give me yer hand."
The two shook hands, Teddy's face, despite its vacant expression,
lighting up for the time with a look of delight.
"Now I'll fish," said Teddy. "P'raps it is best that ye l'ave these
parts; not that I intertains inmity or bad-will toward you, but thin
ye know----hello! yees are gone already, bees you?"
The Indian had departed, and Teddy turned his attention toward
securing the bait. In a few moments he had cast the line out in the
stream and was sound asleep, in which condition he remained until
night set in.