IN WHICH MR. ELIPHALET BIGGS GETS ACQUAINTED WITH BIM KELSO AND HER
FATHER.
In a musty old ledger kept by James Rutledge, the owner of Rutledge's
Tavern, in the year 1832, is an entry under the date of January 31st
which reads as follows:
"Arrived this day Eliphalet Biggs of 26 Olive Street, St. Louis, with one
horse."
Young Mr. Biggs remained at Rutledge's Tavern for three weeks with his
arm in a sling under the eye of the good doctor. The Rutledges were
Kentucky folk and there the young man had found a sympathetic hearing and
tender care. Dr. Allen had forbidden him the use of ardent spirits while
the bone was knitting and so these three weeks were a high point in his
life so to speak.
It had done him good to be hurled against a barn door and to fall
trembling and confused at the feet of his master. He had never met his
master until he had reached Hopedale that morning. The event had been too
long delayed. Encouraged by idleness and conceit and alcohol, evil
passions had grown rank in the soil of his spirit. Restraint had been a
thing unknown to him. He had ruled the little world in which he had lived
by a sense of divine right. He was a prince of Egoland--that province of
America which had only half yielded itself to the principles of
Democracy.
Sobriety and the barn door had been a help to his soul. More of these
heroic remedies might have saved him. He was like one exiled, for a term,
from his native heath. After the ancient fashion of princes, he had at
first meditated the assassination of the man who had blocked his way.
Deprived of the heat of alcohol, his purpose sickened and died.
It must be said that he served his term as a sober human being quite
gracefully, being a well born youth of some education. A few days he
spent mostly in bed, while his friend, who had come on from Hopedale,
took care of him. Soon he began to walk about and his friend returned to
St. Louis.
His fine manners and handsome form and face captured the little village,
most of whose inhabitants had come from Kentucky. They knew a gentleman
when they saw him. They felt a touch of awe in his presence. Mr. Biggs
claimed to have got his hurt by a fall from his horse, pride leading him
to clothe the facts in prevarication. If the truth had been known Samson
would have suffered a heavy loss of popularity in New Salem.
A week after his arrival Ann Rutledge walked over to Jack Kelso's with
him. Bim fled up the stick ladder as soon as they entered the door. Mr.
Kelso was away on a fox hunt. Ann went to the ladder and called:
"Bim, I saw you fly up that ladder. Come back down. Here's a right nice
young man come to see you."
"Is he good-looking?" Bim called.
"Oh, purty as a picture, black eyes and hair and teeth like pearls, and
tall and straight, and he's got a be-e-autiful little mustache."
"That's enough!" Bim exclaimed. "I just wish there was a knot hole in
this floor."
"Come on down here," Ann urged.
"I'm scared," was the answer.
"His cheeks are as red as roses and he's got a lovely ring and big watch
chain--pure gold and yaller as a dandelion. You come down here."
"Stop," Bim answered. "I'll be down as soon as I can get on my best bib
and tucker."
She was singing _Sweet Nightingale_ as she began "to fix up," while Ann
and Mr. Biggs were talking with Mrs. Kelso.
"Ann," Bim called in a moment, "had I better put on my red dress or my
blue?"
"Yer blue, and be quick about it."
"Don't you let him get away after all this trouble."
"I won't."
In a few minutes Bim called from the top of the ladder to Ann. The latter
went and looked up at her. Both girls burst into peals of merry laughter.
Bim had put on a suit of her father's old clothes and her buffalo skin
whiskers and was a wild sight.
"Don't you come down looking like that," said Ann. "I'll go up there and
'tend to you."
Ann climbed the ladder and for a time there was much laughing and
chattering in the little loft. By and by Ann came down. Bim hesitated,
laughing, above the ladder for a moment, and presently followed in her
best blue dress, against which the golden curls of her hair fell
gracefully. With red cheeks and bright eyes, she was a glowing picture.
Very timidly she gave her hand to Mr. Biggs.
"It's just the right dress," he said. "It goes so well with your hair.
I'm glad to see you. I have never seen a girl like you in my life."
"If I knew how, I'd look different," said Bim. "I reckon I look cross.
Cows have done it. Do you like cows?"
"I hate cows--I've got a thousand cows and I see as little of them as
possible," said he.
"It is such a pleasure to hate cows!" Bim exclaimed. "There's nothing I
enjoy so much."
"Why?" Ann asked.
"I am not sure, but I think it is because they give milk--such quantities
of milk! Sometimes I lie awake at night hating cows. There are so many
cows here it keeps me busy."
"Bim has to milk a cow--that's the reason," said Ann.
"I'd like to come over and see her do it," said Mr. Biggs.
"If you do I'll milk in your face--honest I will," said Bim.
"I wouldn't care if it rained milk. I'm going to come and see you often,
if your mother will let me."
A blush spread over the girl's cheeks to the pretty dimple at the point
of her chin.
"You'll see her scampering up the ladder like a squirrel," said Mrs.
Kelso. "She isn't real tame yet."
"Perhaps we could hide the ladder," he suggested, with a smile.
"Do you play on the flute?" Bim asked.
"No," said Mr. Biggs.
"I was afraid," Bim exclaimed. "My Uncle Henry does." She looked into Mr.
Biggs' eyes.
"You like fun--don't you?" he said.
"Have you got a snare drum?" Bim queried.
"No. What put that into your head?" Mr. Biggs asked, a little mystified.
"I don't know. I thought I'd ask. My Uncle Henry has a snare drum. That's
one reason we came to Illinois."
Mr. Biggs laughed. "That smile of yours is very becoming," he said.
"Did you ever dream of a long legged, brindle cat with yellow eyes and
a blue tail?" she asked, as if to change the subject.
"Never!"
"I wisht you had. Maybe you'd know how to scare it away. It carries on
so."
"I know what would fix that cat," said Mrs. Kelso. "Give him the hot
biscuits which you sometimes eat for supper. He'll never come again."
At this point Mr. Kelso returned with his gun on his shoulder and was
introduced to Mr. Biggs.
"I welcome you to the hazards of my fireside," said Kelso. "So you're
from St. Louis and stopped for repairs in this land of the ladder
climbers. Sit down and I'll put a log on the fire."
"Thank you, I must go," said Biggs. "The doctor will be looking for me
now."
"Can I not stay you with flagons?" Kelso asked.
"The doctor has forbidden me all drink but milk and water."
"A wise man is Dr. Allen!" Kelso exclaimed. "Cervantes was right in
saying that too much wine will neither keep a secret nor fulfill a
promise."
"Will you make me a promise?" Bim asked of Mr. Biggs, as he was leaving
the door with Ann.
"Anything you will ask," he answered.
"Please don't ever look at the new moon through a knot hole," she said in
a half whisper.
The young man laughed. "Why not?"
"If you do, you'll never get married."
"I mustn't look at the new moon through a knot hole and I must beware of
the flute and the snare drum," said Mr. Biggs.
"Don't be alarmed by my daughter's fancies," Kelso advised. "They are
often rather astonishing. She has a hearty prejudice against the flute.
It is well founded. An ill played flute is one of the worst enemies of
law and order. Goldsmith estranged half his friends with a grim
determination to play the flute. It was the skeleton in his closet."
So Mr. Eliphalet Biggs met the pretty daughter of Jack Kelso. On his
way back to the tavern he told Ann that he had fallen in love with the
sweetest and prettiest girl in all the world--Bim Kelso. That very
evening Ann went over to Kelso's cabin to take the news to Bim and her
mother and to tell them that her father reckoned he belonged to a very
rich and a very grand family. Naturally, they felt a sense of elation,
although Mrs. Kelso, being a woman of shrewdness, was not carried away.
Mr. Kelso had gone to Offut's store and the three had the cabin to
themselves.
"I think he's just a wonderful man!" Bim exclaimed. "But I'm sorry his
name is so much like figs and pigs. I'm plum sure I'm going to love him."
"I thought you were in love with Harry Needles," Bim's mother said to
her.
"I am. But he keeps me so busy. I have to dress him up every day and put
a mustache on him and think up ever so many nice things for him to say,
and when he comes he doesn't say them. He's terribly young."
"The same age as you. I think he is a splendid boy--so does everybody."
"I have to make all his courage for him, and then he never will use it,"
Bim went on. "He has never said whether he likes my looks or not."
"But there's time enough for that--you are only a child," said her
mother. "You told me that he said once you were beautiful."
"But he has never said it twice, and when he did say it, I didn't believe
my ears, he spoke so low. Acted kind o' like he was scared of it. I don't
want to wait forever to be really and truly loved, do I?"
Mrs. Kelso laughed. "It's funny to hear a baby talking like that," she
said. "We don't know this young man. He's probably only fooling anyway."
Bim rose and stood very erect.
"Mother, do you think I look like a baby?" she asked. "I tell you I'm
every inch a woman," she added, mimicking her father in the speech of
Lear.
"But there are not many inches in you yet."
"How discouraging you are!" said Bim, sinking into her chair with a sigh.
Bim went often to the little tavern after that. Of those meetings little
is known, save that, with all the pretty arts of the cavalier, unknown to
Harry Needles, the handsome youth flattered and delighted the girl. This
went on day by day for a fortnight. The evening before Biggs was to leave
for his home, Bim went over to eat supper with Ann at the tavern.
It happened that Jack Kelso had found Abe sitting alone with his
Blackstone in Offut's store that afternoon.
"Mr. Kelso, did you ever hear what Eb Zane said about the general subject
of sons-in-law?" Abe asked.
"Never--but I reckon it would be wise and possibly apropos," said Kelso.
"He said that a son-in-law was a curious kind o' property," Abe began.
"'Ye know,' says Eb, 'if ye have a hoss that's tricky an' dangerous an'
wuth less than nothin', ye can give him away er kill him, but if ye have
a son-in-law that's wuthless, nobody else will have him an' it's ag'in'
the law to kill him. Fust ye know ye've got a critter on yer hands that
kicks an' won't work an' has to be fed an' liquored three times a day an'
is wuth a million dollars less than nothin'.'"
There was a moment of silence.
"When a man is figurin' his assets, it's better to add ten dollars than
to subtract a million," said Abe. "That's about as simple as adding up
the weight o' three small hogs."
"What a well of wisdom you are, Abe!" said Kelso. "Do you know anything
about this young Missourian who is shining up to Bim?"
"I only know that he was a drinking man up to the time he landed here and
that he threatened Traylor with his whip and got thrown against the side
of a barn--plenty hard. He's a kind of American king, and I don't like
kings. They're nice to look at, but generally those that have married 'em
have had one h--l of a time."
Kelso rose and went home to supper.
Soon after the supper dishes had been laid away in the Kelso cabin, young
Mr. Biggs rapped on its door and pulled the latch-string and entered and
sat down with Mr. and Mrs. Kelso at the fireside.
"I have come to ask for your daughter's hand," he said, as soon as they
were seated. "I know it will seem sudden, but she happens to be the girl
I want. I've had her picture in my heart always. I love your daughter. I
can give her a handsome home and everything she could desire."
Kelso answered promptly: "We are glad to welcome you here, but we can not
entertain such a proposal, flattering as it is. Our daughter is too young
to think of marriage. Then, sir, we know very little about you, and may I
be pardoned if I add that it does not recommend you?"
The young man was surprised. He had not expected such talk from a ladder
climber. He looked at Kelso, groping for an answer. Then--
"Perhaps not," said he. "I have been a little wild, but that is all in
the past. You can learn about me and my family from any one in St. Louis.
I am not ashamed of anything I have done."
"Nevertheless, I must ask you to back away from this subject. I can not
even discuss it with you."
"May I not hope that you will change your mind?"
"Not at present. Let the future take care of itself."
"I generally get what I want," said the young man.
"And now and then something that you don't want," said Kelso, a bit
nettled by his persistence.
"You ought to think of her happiness. She is too sweet and beautiful for
a home like this."
There was an awkward moment of silence. The young man said good night and
opened the door.
"I'll go with you," said Kelso.
He went with Mr. Biggs to the tavern and got his daughter and returned
home with her.
Mrs. Kelso chided her husband for being hard on Mr. Biggs.
"He has had his lesson, perhaps he will turn over a new leaf," she said.
"I fear there isn't a new leaf in his book," said Kelso. "They're all
dirty."
He told his wife what Abe had said in the store.
"The wisdom of the common folk is in that beardless young giant," he
said. "It is the wisdom of many generations gathered in the hard school
of bitter experience. I wonder where it is going to lead him."
As Eliphalet Biggs was going down the south road next morning he met Bim
on her pony near the schoolhouse, returning from the field with her cow.
They stopped.
"I'm coming back, little girl," he said.
"What for?" she asked.
"To tell you a secret and ask you a question. Nobody but you has the
right to say I can not. May I come?"
"I suppose you can--if you want to," she answered.
"I'll come and I'll write to you and send the letters to Ann."
Mentor Graham, who lived in the schoolhouse, had come out of its door.
"Good-by!" said young Mr. Biggs, as his heels touched the flanks of his
horse. Then he went flying down the road.