The fight so much desired by Morton came soon enough.
As he and his mother rode home by a "near cut," little traveled,
Morton found time to master Dolly's fiery spirit and yet to scan the
woods with the habitual searching glance of a hunter. He observed on
one of the trees a notice posted. A notice put up in this
out-of-the-way place surprised him. He endeavored to make his
restless steed approach the tree, that he might read, but her wild
Arabian temper took fright at something--a blooded horse is apt to
see visions--and she would not stand near the tree. Time after time
Morton drove her forward, but she as often shied away. At last, Mrs.
Goodwin begged him to give over the attempt and come on; but Morton's
love of mastery was now excited, and he said,
"Ride on, mother, if you want to; this question between Dolly and me
will have to be discussed and settled right here. Either she will
stand still by this sugar-tree, or we will fight away till one or
t'other lays down to rest."
The mother contented herself with letting old Blaze browse by the
road-side, and with shaping her thoughts into a formal regret that
Morton should spend the holy Sabbath in such fashion; but in her
maternal heart she admired his will and courage. He was so like her
own father, she thought--such a gentleman! And she could not but
hope that he was one of God's elect. If so, what a fine Christian he
would be when he should be converted! And, quiet as she was without,
her heart was in a moment filled with agony and prayer and
questionings. How could she live in heaven without Morton? Her
eldest son had already died a violent death in prodigal wanderings
from home. But Morton would surely be saved!
Morton, for his part, cared at the moment far less for anything in
heaven than he did to master the rebellious Dolly. He rode her all
round the tree; he circled that maple, first in one direction, then
in another, until the mare was so dizzy she could hardly see. Then
he held her while he read the notice, saying with exultation, "Now,
my lady, do you think you can stand still?"
Beyond a momentary impulse of idle curiosity, Morton had not cared to
know the contents of the paper. Even curiosity had been forgotten in
his combat with Dolly. But as soon as he saw the signature, "Enoch
Lumsden, administrator of the estate of Hezekiah Lumsden, deceased,"
he forgot his victory over his horse in his interest in the document
itself. It was therein set forth that, by order of the probate court
in and for the county aforesaid, the said Enoch Lumsden,
administrator, would sell at public auction all that parcel of land
belonging to the estate of the said Hezekiah Lumsden, deceased, known
and described as follows, to wit, namely, etc., etc.
"By thunder!" broke out Morton, angrily, as he rode away (I am afraid
he swore by thunder instead of by something else, out of a filial
regard for his mother). "By thunder! if that ain't too devilish
mean! I s'pose 'tain't enough for Captain Lumsden to mistreat little
Kike--he has gone to robbing him. He means to buy that land himself;
or, what's the same thing, git somebody to do it for him. That's
what he put that notice in this holler fer. The judge is afraid of
him; and so's everybody else. Poor Kike won't have a dollar when
he's a man."
"Somebody ought to take Kike's part," said Mrs. Goodwin. "It's a
shame for a whole settlement to be cowards, and to let one man rule
them. It's worse than having a king."
Morton loved "Little Kike," and hated Captain Lumsden; and this
appeal to the anti-monarchic feeling of the time moved him. He could
not bear that his mother, of all, should think him cowardly. His
pride was already chafed by Lumsden's condescension, and his
provoking way of keeping Patty and himself apart. Why should he not
break with him, and have done with it, rather than stand by and see
Kike robbed? But to interfere in behalf of Kike was to put Patty
Lumsden farther away from him. He was a knight who had suddenly come
in sight of his long-sought adversary while his own hands were tied.
And so he fell into the brownest of studies, and scarcely spoke a
word to his mother all the rest of his ride. For here were his
friendship for little Kike, his innate antagonism to Captain Lumsden,
and his strong sense of justice, on one side; his love for
Patty--stronger than all the rest--on the other. In the stories of
chivalry which his mother had told, the love of woman had always been
a motive to valiant deeds for the right. And how often had he
dreamed of doing some brave thing while Patty applauded! Now, when
the brave thing offered, Patty was on the other side. This
unexpected entanglement of motives irritated him, as such
embarrassment always does a person disposed to act impulsively and in
right lines. And so it happened that he rode on in moody silence,
while the mother, always looking for signs of seriousness in the son,
mentally reviewed the sermon of the day, in vain endeavor to recall
some passages that might have "found a lodgment in his mind."
Had the issue been squarely presented to Morton, he might even then
have chosen Patty, letting the interests of his friends take care of
themselves. But he did not decide it squarely. He began by excusing
himself to himself:--What could he do for Kike? He had no influence
with the judge; he had no money to buy the land, and he had no
influential friends. He might agitate the question and sacrifice his
own hope, and, after all, accomplish nothing for Kike. No doubt all
these considerations of futility had their weight with him;
nevertheless he had an angry consciousness that he was not acting
bravely in the matter. That he, Morton Goodwin, who had often vowed
that he would not truckle to any man, was ready to shut his eyes to
Captain Lumsden's rascality, in the hope of one day getting his
consent to marry his daughter! It was this anger with himself that
made Morton restless, and his restlessness took him down to the Forks
that Sunday evening, and led him to drink two or three times, in
spite of his good resolution not to drink more than once. It was
this restlessness that carried him at last to the cabin of the widow
Lumsden, that evening, to see her son Kike.
[Illustration: MORT, DOLLY, AND KIKE.]
Kike was sixteen; one of those sallow-skinned boys with straight
black hair that one sees so often in southern latitudes. He was
called "Little Kike" only to distinguish him from his father, who had
also borne the name of Hezekiah. Delicate in health and quiet in
manner, he was a boy of profound feeling, and his emotions were not
only profound but persistent. Dressed in buck-skin breeches and
homespun cotton overshirt, he was milking old Molly when Morton came
up. The fixed lines of his half-melancholy face relaxed a little, as
with a smile deeper than it was broad he lifted himself up and said,
"Hello, Mort! come in, old feller!"
But Mort only sat still on Dolly, while Kike came round and stroked
her fine neck, and expressed his regret that she hadn't run at the
Forks and beat Bill McConkey's bay horse. He wished he owned such "a
beast."
"Never mind; one of these days, when I get a little stronger, I will
open that crick bottom, and then I shall make some money and be able
to buy a blooded horse like Dolly. Maybe it'll be a colt of Dolly's;
who knows?" And Kike smiled with a half-hopefulness at the vision of
his impending prosperity. But Morton could not smile, nor could he
bear to tell Kike that his uncle had determined to seize upon that
very piece of land regardless of the air-castles Kike had built upon
it. Morton had made up his mind not to tell Kike. Why should he?
Kike would hear of his uncle's fraud in time, and any mention on his
part would only destroy his own hopes without doing anything for
Kike. But if Morton meant to be prudent and keep silence, why had he
not staid at home? Why come here, where the sight of Kike's slender
frame was a constant provocation to speech? Was there a self
contending against a self?
"Have you got over your chills yet?" asked Morton.
"No," said the black-haired boy, a little bitterly. "I was nearly
well when I went down to Uncle Enoch's to work; and he made me work
in the rain. 'Come, Kike,' he would say, jerking his words, and
throwing them at me like gravel, 'get out in the rain. It'll do you
good. Your mother has ruined you, keeping you over the fire. You
want hardening. Rain is good for you, water makes you grow; you're a
perfect baby.' I tell you, he come plaguey nigh puttin' a finishment
to me, though."
Doubtless, what Morton had drunk at the Forks had not increased his
prudence. As usual in such cases, the prudent Morton and the
impulsive Morton stood the one over against the other; and, as always
the imprudent self is prone to spring up without warning, and take
the other by surprise, so now the young man suddenly threw prudence
and Patty behind, and broke out with--
"Your uncle Enoch is a rascal!" adding some maledictions for emphasis.
That was not exactly telling what he had resolved not to tell, but it
rendered it much more difficult to keep the secret; for Kike grew a
little red in the face, and was silent a minute. He himself was fond
of roundly denouncing his uncle. But abusing one's relations is a
luxury which is labeled "strictly private," and this savage outburst
from his friend touched Kike's family pride a little.
"I know that as well as you do," was all he said, however.
"He would swindle his own children," said Morton, spurred to greater
vehemence by Kike's evident disrelish of his invective. "He will
chisel you out of everything you've got before you're of age, and
then make the settlement too hot to hold you if you shake your head."
And Morton looked off down the road.
"What's the matter, Mort? What set you off on Uncle Nuck to-night?
He's bad enough, Lord knows; but something must have gone wrong with
you. Did he tell you that he did not want you to talk to Patty?"
"No, he didn't," said Morton. And now that Patty was recalled to his
mind, he was vexed to think that he had gone so far in the matter.
His tone provoked Kike in turn.
"Mort, you've been drinking! What brought you down here?"
Here the imprudent Morton got the upper hand again. Patty and
prudence were out of sight at once, and the young man swore between
his teeth.
"Come, old fellow; there's something wrong," said Kike, alarmed.
"What's up?"
"Nothing; nothing," said Morton, bitterly. "Nothing, only your
affectionate uncle has stuck a notice in Jackson's holler--on the
side of the tree furthest from the road--advertising your crick
bottom for sale. That's all. Old Virginia gentleman! Old Virginia
_devil_! Call a horse-thief a parson, will you?" And then he added
something about hell and damnation. These two last words had no
grammatical relation with the rest of his speech; but in the mind of
Morton Goodwin they had very logical relations with Captain Lumsden
and the subject under discussion. Nobody is quite a Universalist in
moments of indignation. Every man keeps a private and select
perdition for the objects of his wrath.
When Morton had thus let out the secret he had meant to retain, Kike
trembled and grew white about the lips. "I'll never forgive him," he
said, huskily. "I'll be even with him, and one to carry; see if I
ain't!" He spoke with that slow, revengeful, relentless air that
belongs to a black-haired, Southern race.
"Mort, loan me Doll to-morry?" he said, presently.
"Can you ride her? Where are you going?" Morton was loth to commit
himself by lending his horse.
"I am going to Jonesville, to see if I can stop that sale; and I've
got a right to choose a gardeen. I mean to take one that will make
Uncle Enoch open his eyes. I'm goin' to take Colonel Wheeler; he
hates Uncle Enoch, and he'll see jestice done. As for ridin' Dolly,
you know I can back any critter with four legs."
"Well, I guess you can have Dolly," said Morton, reluctantly. He
knew that if Kike rode Dolly, the Captain would hear of it; and then,
farewell to Patty! But looking at Kike's face, so full of pain and
wrath, he could not quite refuse. Dolly went home at a tremendous
pace, and Morton, commonly full of good nature, was, for once,
insufferably cross at supper-time.
"Mort, meetin' must 'a' soured on you," said Henry, provokingly.
"You're cross as a coon when it's cornered."
"Don't fret Morton; he's worried," said Mrs. Goodwin. The fond
mother still hoped that the struggle in his mind was the great battle
of Armageddon that should be the beginning of a better life.
Morton went to his bed in the loft filled with a contempt for
himself. He tried in vain to acquit himself of cowardice--the
quality which a border man considers the most criminal. Early in the
morning he fed Dolly, and got her ready for Kike; but no Kike came.
After a while, he saw some one ascending the hill on the other side
of the creek. Could it be Kike? Was he going to walk to Jonesville,
twenty miles away? And with his ague-shaken body? How roundly
Morton cursed himself for the fear that made him half refuse the
horse! For, with one so sensitive as Kike, a half refusal was
equivalent to the most positive denial. It was not too late. Morton
threw the saddle and bridle on Dolly, and mounted. Dolly sprang
forward, throwing her heels saucily in the air, and in fifteen
minutes Morton rode up alongside Kike.
"Here, Kike, you don't escape that way! Take Dolly."
"No, I won't, Morton. I oughtn't to have axed you to let me have
her. I know how you feel about Patty."
"Confound--no, I won't say confound Patty--but confound me, if I'm
mean enough to let you walk to Jonesville. I was a devlish coward
yesterday. Here, take the horse, dog on you, or I'll thrash you,"
and Morton laughed.
"I tell you, Mort, I won't do it," said Kike, "I'm goin' to walk."
"Yes, you look like it! You'll die before you git half-way, you
blamed little fool you! If you won't take Dolly, then I'll go along
to bury your bones. They's no danger of the buzzard's picking such
bones, though."
Just then came by Jake Sniger, who was remarkable for his servility
to Lumsden.
"Hello, boys, which ways?" he asked.
"No ways jest now," said Morton.
"Are you a travelin', or only a goin' some place?" asked Sniger,
smiling.
"I 'low I'm travelin', and Kike's a goin' some place," said Morton.
When Sniger had gone on, Morton said, "Now Kike, the fat's all in the
fire. When the Captain finds out what you've done, Sniger is sure to
tell that he see us together. I've got to fight it out now anyhow,
and you've got to take Dolly."
"No, Morton, I can't."
If Kike had been any less obstinate the weakness of his knees would
have persuaded him to relent.
[Illustration: GOOD-BYE!]
"Well, hold Dolly a minute for me, anyhow," said Morton, dismounting.
As soon as Kike had obligingly taken hold of the bridle, Morton
started toward home, singing Burns's "Highland Mary" at the top of
his rich, melodious voice, never looking back at Kike till he had
finished the song, and reached the summit of the hill. Then he had
the satisfaction of seeing Kike in the saddle, laughing to think how
his friend had outwitted him. Morton waved his hat heartily, and
Kike, nodding his head, gave Dolly the rein, and she plunged forward,
carrying him out of sight in a few minutes. Morton's mother was
disappointed, when he came in late to breakfast, to see that his brow
was clear. She feared that the good impressions of the day before
had worn away. How little does one know of the real nature of the
struggle between God and the devil, in the heart of another! But
long before Kike had brought Dolly back to her stall, the
exhilaration of self-sacrifice in the mind of Morton had worn away,
and the possible consequences of his action made him uncomfortable.
_CHAPTER V._