THE ANNEXATION OF CUBY
"They well deserve to have,
That know the strongest and surest way to get."
ALMOST a year rolled over the Cabbage Patch, and it was nearing
Christmas again. The void left in Mrs. Wiggs's heart by Jim's death
could never be filled, but time was beginning to soften her grief,
and the necessity for steady employment kept her from brooding over
her trouble.
It was still needful to maintain the strictest economy, for half the
money which had been given them was in Miss Olcott's keeping as a
safeguard against another rainy day. Mrs. Wiggs had got as much
washing as she could do; Asia helped about the house, and Billy did
odd jobs wherever he could find them.
The direct road to fortune, however, according to Billy's ideas,
could best be traveled in a kindling-wagon, and, while he was the
proud possessor of a dilapidated wagon, sole relic of the late Mr.
Wiggs, he had nothing to hitch to it. Scarcely a week passed that he
did not agitate the question, and, as Mrs. Wiggs often said, "When
Billy Wiggs done set his head to a thing, he's as good as got it!"
So she was not surprised when he rushed breathlessly into the
kitchen one evening, about supper-time, and exclaimed in excited
tones: "Ma, I 've got a horse! He was havin' a fit on the commons
an' they was goin' to shoot him, an' I ast the man to give him to
me!"
"My land, Billy! What do you want with a fit-horse?" asked his
mother.
"'Cause I knowed you could cure him. The man said if I took him I'd
have to pay fer cartin' away his carcass, but I said, 'All right, I
'll take him, anyway.' Come on, ma, an' see him!" and Billy hurried
back to his new possession.
Mrs. Wiggs pinned a shawl over her head and ran across the commons.
A group of men stood around the writhing animal, but the late owner
had departed.
"He's 'most gone," said one of the men, as she came up. "I tole
Billy you'd beat him fer takin' that ole nag offen the man's
han's."
"Well, I won't," said Mrs. Wiggs, stoutly. "Billy Wiggs's got more
sense than most men I know. That hoss's carcass is worth something I
'spect he'd bring 'bout two dollars dead, an' mebbe more living.
Anyway, I'm goin' to save him if there's any save to him!"
She stood with her arms on her hips, and critically surveyed her
patient. "I'll tell you what's the matter with him," was her final
diagnosis; "his lights is riz. Billy, I'm goin' home fer some
medicine; you set on his head so's he can't git up, an' ma'll be
right back in a minute."
The crowd which had collected to see the horse shot began to
disperse, for it was supper-time, and there was nothing to see now
but the poor suffering animal, with Billy Wiggs patiently sitting on
its head.
When Mrs. Wiggs returned she carried a bottle, and what appeared to
be a large marble. "This here is a calomel pill," she explained. "I
jes' rolled the calomel in with some soft, light bread. Now, you
prop his jaw open with a little stick, an' I'll shove it in, an'
then hole his head back, while I pour down some water an' turkentine
outen this bottle."
It was with great difficulty that this was accomplished, for the old
horse had evidently seen a vision of the happy hunting-ground, and
was loath to return to the sordid earth. His limbs were already
stiffening in death, and the whites of his eyes only were visible.
Mrs. Wiggs noted these discouraging symptoms, and saw that violent
measures were necessary.
"Gether some sticks an' build a fire quick as you kin. I 've got to
run over home. Build it right up clost to him, Billy; we 've got to
git him het up."
She rushed into the kitchen, and, taking several cakes of tallow
from the shelf, threw them into a tin bucket. Then she hesitated for
a moment. The kettle of soup was steaming away on the stove ready
for supper. Mrs. Wiggs did not believe in sacrificing the present
need to the future comfort. She threw in a liberal portion of
pepper, and, seizing the kettle in one hand and the bucket of tallow
in the other, staggered back to the bonfire.
"Now, Billy," she commanded, "put this bucket of tallow down there
in the hottest part of the fire. Look out; don't tip it--there!
Now, you come here an' help me pour this soup into the bottle. I'm
goin' to git that ole hoss so het up he'll think he's havin' a
sunstroke! Seems sorter bad to keep on pestering him when he's so
near gone, but this here soup'll feel good when it once gits inside
him."
When the kettle was empty, the soup was impartially distributed over
Mrs. Wiggs and the patient, but a goodly amount had "got inside,"
and already the horse was losing his rigidity.
Only once did Billy pause in his work, and that was to ask:
"Ma, what do you think I'd better name him?"
Giving names was one of Mrs. Wiggs's chief accomplishments, and
usually required much thoughtful consideration; but in this case if
there was to be a christening it must be at once.
"I'd like a jography name," suggested Billy, feeling that nothing
was too good to bestow upon his treasure.
Mrs. Wiggs stood with the soup dripping from her hands, and
earnestly contemplated the horse. Babies, pigs, goats, and puppies
had drawn largely on her supply of late, and geography names
especially were scarce. Suddenly a thought struck her.
"I'll tell you what, Billy! We'll call him Cuby! It's a town I
heared 'em talkin' 'bout at the grocery."
By this time the tallow was melted, and Mrs. Wiggs carried it over
by the horse, and put each of his hoofs into the hot liquid, while
Billy rubbed the legs with all the strength of his young arms.
"That's right," she said; "now you run home an' git that piece of
carpet by my bed, an' we'll kiver him up. I am goin' to git them
fence rails over yonder to keep the fire goin'."
Through the long night they worked with their patient, and when the
first glow of morning appeared in the east, a triumphant procession
wended its way across the Cabbage Patch. First came an old woman,
bearing sundry pails, kettles, and bottles; next came a very sleepy
little boy, leading a trembling old horse, with soup all over its
head, tallow on its feet, and a strip of rag-carpet tied about its
middle.
And thus Cuba, like his geographical namesake, emerged from the
violent ordeal of reconstruction with a mangled constitution,
internal dissension, a decided preponderance of foreign element, but
a firm and abiding trust in the new power with which his fortunes
had been irrevocably cast.