THE ROAD HOME
"Going back to Arkansaw as fast as we can go--
Never mind the winter time--never mind the snow,
For the weather's not so chilly as the Louisiana law,
And we'll feel a good deal safer in the Ar--kan--saw."
IT had happened in this way. The afternoon before Christmas had come and
the little boy and the Bear had been talking over a Christmas dinner for
the next day.
"Bosephus," Horatio had said, "we must have something extra. I should
like a real old-fashioned dinner. One such as I used to have; but, of
course, that is all over now." And there was an untamed, regretful look
in his eyes.
"Ratio," said Bo, "we have got a lot of money--nearly two hundred
dollars. We can afford to have something good. I will buy a duck and a
turkey and maybe some pies. We'll take a holiday and eat from morning
till night if we feel like it."
The Bear smiled at this thought and touched the strings of the violin.
"Oh, we'll buy a tender turkey, and we'll buy a youthful duck,
And some pies, perhaps, and cookies, and some doughnuts, just for luck,
And we'll take our Christmas dinner where the balmy breezes stray,
And we'll spread it in the sunshine and we'll eat--all--day."
Suddenly he paused in his singing and listened. They were coming out
into an open space and there was a sound of a voice speaking. Somebody
was talking in a foreign language that Bo did not understand, but the
Bear trembled with eagerness.
"Bo," he whispered, "that's Italian. That's the way my first teacher
talked. The one that abused me--and died."
The Bear licked out his tongue fiercely at this memory and pushed
forward into the open, the little boy following. As they stepped out
where they could see, Bosephus uttered an exclamation and Horatio a
snort of surprise. By the roadside sat a dark-browed, villainous-looking
Italian and before him stood a miserable half-starved bear cub, which he
was trying to teach. He would speak a few words to it and then beat it
fiercely with a heavy stick. The little bear cowered and trembled and
could not obey. Horatio gave a low dangerous growl as Bo held him back.
The Italian turned and saw them.
"What are you beating that cub for?" asked Bo, sternly.
The Italian looked at him evilly.
"Maka him grow an' dance an' playa fid, lika yo' bear," he said,
sullenly. "Soa he maka da mun'."
"That won't do it. You can teach him better with kindness. Throw that
stick away. Aren't you ashamed of yourself."
"Minda yo' own biz," was the insolent reply.
The little boy saw that it would not be safe to stay there any longer.
The cub was whining pitifully and Horatio was becoming furious. He
turned away, the Bear following reluctantly. When they had gone perhaps
a half a mile Horatio paused.
"Let's camp here," he said. "This is a nice place and I'm tired."
Bosephus was tired, too. The day before Christmas with its merry
preparation had been a big day among the plantations and the friends had
reaped a harvest.
"All right, Ratio," he said, and they made preparations for the night,
though it was still quite early.
[Illustration: "MAKA HIM GROW AN' DANCE AN' PLAY A 'FID'."]
"Bo," said the Bear, reflectively, "Christmas always reminds me of
when I was a little cub like that poor little fellow we saw back yonder.
I was a Christmas present--by accident."
"A Christmas present by accident! How was that?"
"It was this way. I was always brave and adventurous, as you know. My
folks lived in a very large tree and were all asleep for the winter
except me. I stayed awake so as to run away and see the world. Well, I
started out and I travelled and I travelled. It was all woods and I lost
my way. By and by I got very tired and climbed up into a thick evergreen
tree to rest. I suppose I went to sleep and some men who were out
hunting for a Christmas tree must have picked out mine and tied the
limbs together tight with cords and cut it down. Then I suppose they
must have carried me home and set the tree up in its place and untied
the cords, for the first I knew I was tumbling out on to a carpet in a
big room, and a lot of children were screaming and running in every
direction. I was bigger and some fatter than that cub we saw with the
Italian--poor little fellow.
"I'd like to talk to that villain about five minutes alone," continued
Horatio, grimly. "I'm sure I could interest him. I'd tell him about the
man that used to beat me, and I might give him an imitation of what
happened to him," and the big fellow rose and walked back and forth in
excitement.
"But go on with your story, Ratio; what happened to you after you fell
out of the Christmas tree?"
"Oh! the children tamed me and fed me till I got so big they were afraid
of me, and then I ate up some young pigs and a calf and went away."
"You ran away, you mean. What happened then?"
"Well, I went quite a distance and fell in with a circus. I learned to
dance there and stayed with them a while. But one day the young ibex
came in to see me and they couldn't find anything of him after that
except his horns, and seemed suspicious of me, so I went away again."
"Oh, Ratio!"
"Yes; I travelled and changed about a good deal till by and by I fell in
with the Italian who promised to teach me to play the violin, and he did
teach me some, as you know, but he wasn't kind to me, so I--I wore
mourning for him a while, and went away again. Then I met up with you,
and you taught me the second part of our tune, and we went into
partnership and I reformed, and we've been together ever since. We've
been in some pretty close places together, Bosephus, but I've always
managed to pull us through safely, and you have behaved very nobly, too,
at times, Bosephus--very nobly, indeed."
"Are you sure you have reformed, Horatio?"
Horatio swung the violin to his shoulder and drew the bow across the
strings. Then he sang softly:--
[Illustration: Music]
"Oh, there's some folks say a nigger won't steal,
But I caught one in my corn-fiel'.
[Illustration: Music]
And there's other folks say that a Bear will tame,
But I wouldn't trust him with my----"
he hesitated, and then, with a final flourish,
"with my money all the same."
The little boy laughed. The Bear seemed to have forgotten the cruel
Italian and was in his usual good humor.
"I think I can trust you, Horatio; I'm not a bit afraid of you."
"Bo," said Ratio, speaking suddenly, "speaking of Christmas trees, we
ought to have one. I saw a beautiful one up the stream yonder. I think
I'll go and get it, if you'll look after the supper while I'm gone."
"Why, yes, Horatio, only don't be long about it."
Horatio struck the violin with a long vigorous sweep.
[Illustration: Music]
"Oh, we'll have a tree for Christmas in this Louisiana isthmus,
Where the orange trees are waving and the jasmines are in bloom;
[Illustration: Music]
And I'll have a Christmas dinner, if I don't I am a sinner,
And I'll eat it if it sends me to my doom--doom--doom."
Bo laughed again. He had never seen Horatio in a better humor.
"If you eat too much pie it may send you to your doom--doom--doom," he
said. "Hurry back, now, with that tree. You can pull it up by the roots
and we'll plant it again here. Then it will keep right on growing."
The bear set out up the stream and the boy busied himself with building
a fire and taking out of a sack a lot of food that had been given them
by the planters during the afternoon. He spread this on the leaves and
moss and then sat down and gazed into the bright blaze. It was pleasant
and warm and he was quite tired. After a while he wondered sleepily why
the Bear didn't come back, and concluded he was having a hard time
pulling up the tree. Then he began thinking of all the adventures they
had had together and of the little cub bear and the cruel Italian.
"I was tempted to let Horatio at him," he thought. "A man like that
should be beaten until he couldn't stand. That poor little creature! How
wistfully he looked at us. He kept whining--perhaps he was telling Ratio
something."
The little boy's head nodded forward now and then and presently he
slept. He slept soundly and the moments flew by unheeded. He was having
a long dream about old man Todd and the girls and the two candy hearts,
when suddenly there arose close at hand such a commotion, such a
mingling of excited language, fierce snarls and crashing of brush that
the little boy leaped to his feet wildly.
"Ratio!" he shouted. "Ratio! where are you?"
The only answer was the redoubled fury of the furious uproar, which Bo
now located at the edge of the road but a few feet away. He tore through
the brush hastily in that direction. As he reached the spot the turmoil
ceased and he heard the sound of running feet. Dashing through into the
road he beheld a strange sight. A half-naked man was disappearing over
the hill just beyond, and Horatio, holding some rags of clothing in one
hand and the paw of the little bear in the other, was looking after him
hungrily, as if about to pursue. Before him lay the Christmas tree badly
broken and bruised.
"Ratio!" exclaimed Bo. "What have you been doing?"
The Bear looked at Bo sheepishly.
"I went for the Christmas tree," he said, meekly, "and just as I was
coming back the Italian man came along, and he was beating this little
chap, and so I tried the Christmas tree on him to see how he liked it.
Then we got into an argument, and when he went away he left the cub with
us and didn't take all of his clothing."
The little boy reflected a moment.
"I hope, Horatio," he said, gravely, "you did not mean to break your
agreement about, you know--about dinners."
"I didn't, Bo; honest, I didn't. I wouldn't touch that fellow if I was
starving. But I did pretty nearly break his neck, Bo, and I'm glad of
it!"
[Illustration: GOING BACK TO ARKANSAW.]
"Ratio," said Bo, solemnly, "it's very wrong, I suppose; very wrong,
indeed; but I'm glad, too. Only we've got to postpone that Christmas
dinner. That fellow will be back here to-night with officers, and we've
had all the law we want. We start for Arkansaw in five minutes. A bite
of supper and then right about! ready! march!"
And this was the reason Horatio and Bosephus and the little cub bear
were travelling swiftly northward in spite of the winter weather that
was not yet over. The cub was small and weak and Horatio, who loved him
and sometimes called him "little brother," often carried him. They gave
no performances, but only pushed forward, mile after mile, chanting
solemnly:--
"Going back to Arkansaw as fast as we can go--
Never mind the winter time and never mind the snow,
For the weather's not so chilly as the Louisiana law,
And we'll feel a good deal safer in the Ar--kan--saw."
[Illustration: HORATIO WAS LOOKING AT HIM HUNGRILY.]