AT DRY FORK.
The next day was Sunday, and immediately after breakfast Jasper
announced that he was going "to haul a passel of them" over to church,
the place of worship and of gossip being about five miles distant. And
when everything was made ready, Mrs. Mayfield was delighted to find upon
going out to the gate that they were to be drawn by two enormous oxen.
But Margaret objected. "Thar air two hosses out yander at the stable,
and it is jest one of Jasper's pranks to take these steers," she said.
"And I jest know he's a doin' it to humiliate me." The old man,
pretending to fix the yoke, ducked his head to hide his grinning
countenance. "Hosses out thar, but here we go like niggers to a
camp-meetin'," she went on. "I'm not goin'."
"Oh, do go, Mrs. Starbuck," Mrs. Mayfield pleaded.
"No, I won't go a step. I won't be shamed in this way."
"Sorry, Margaret," said Jasper. "I 'lowed you'd enjoy yo'se'f, still if
you don't want to go thar's no way of compellin' you. Wall, climb up,
everybody."
Mrs. Mayfield and Lou were helped into the wagon, Jasper climbed up and
had begun to swing his long lash when Margaret cried out: "You haven't
fixed any place for me."
"For you?" Jasper replied. "Didn't know you was a goin'."
"Oh, you think you kin make me stay at home all day by myse'f, do you?
All the time studyin' how you kin go away an' leave me. Well, I'll show
you wuther I'm goin' or not."
The old man laughed. "Oh, pleased to have you come along, as the hawk
said to the chicken." She climbed up and sat down beside him and he
dodged as if she had struck at him. "Now stop yo' foolishness an' drive
on, Jasper. An' I'll jest bet anythin' that these steers run right off'n
the bluff inter the creek. I jest know it."
"Oh, not with a preacher an' all these good-lookin' women," replied
Jasper. "Whoa hawr, come here, Buck. Come here, Bright."
The old wagon creaked, groaned, shuddered and away they went down the
hill. Lou and Mrs. Mayfield "bursting into song," Jim and Tom laughing.
The dawn had been red and the early morning was still pink, with here
and there a mist-veil floating up from the creek. In the air were sudden
joys, the indescribable and indefinable glees of a lightsome day, the
very childhood of time; and back to the north the migratory bird was
singing his way, mimicked and laughed at by the native mocking songster,
jongleur of the feathered world. In all this blythe land it did not seem
that there was an ache or a pain, of the body or of the heart; the
light, the air, the music, all combined to form a wordless sermon on the
mount.
"Mr. Reverend, you are silent again," said Mrs. Mayfield, and the
preacher replied: "I didn't know that, ma'm. I thought I was singing."
"I'm not singin'," Margaret spoke up, grasping Jasper's arm. "I haven't
been so jolted since the mules ran away with me."
"Margaret," said Jasper, "you'd be jolted in the garden of Eden. Jolted
out, I gad," he roared.
"I wouldn't, no sich of a thing, an' you know it. Lou, air you shore
you put everything in the basket."
"Yes'm."
"The pickels, and the chickens? I jest know you forgot the coffee, as if
I could go all day without it. I never seed the like. Folks air gittin'
mo' an' mo' keerless every day. Of co'se you could put in the
pickels--had to do that to leave the coffee out. Now what prompted you
to do that?"
"Do what, mother?"
"Why, leave that coffee out?"
"It's in the basket."
"Then why did you tell me you didn't fetch it? What do you want to
torment a body fur? Now, Jasper, whut air you a settin' up here fur, a
shakin' like a lump o' calf-foot jelly? You give me the fidgits."
"Wall, thar won't be nobody a laughin' now putty soon," said Jasper. "I
kin see right now that these steers air goin' to run off inter the
creek."
"They ain't a goin' to do no sich of a thing, an' you know it. Miz
Mayfield, did you ever see sich carryin's-on?"
"I have never experienced a more delightful drive, Mrs. Starbuck. We
read of the beautiful past, and it seems to me that to-day I have been
permitted to live a hundred years ago. A hundred! Five hundred, and
should not be surprised to see a troop of knights come galloping down
the glen, with armor flashing and with poetic war-cries on their lips.
Were you thinking of that, Mr. Reverend?"
"No, ma'm. I was thinking of the men, clothed in skins and with
shepherd's crooks in their hands, carrying the gospel to the barbarians
of old."
"And I was thinking," said Tom, "of old Daniel Boone, with his
flint-lock rifle, going to Kentucky. And what were your thoughts, Miss
Lou?"
"I wasn't thinkin'--I was just a livin', that's all. Sometimes what a
blessin' it is jest to breathe. I reckon we are the happiest when we
don't have to think, when we jest set still and let things drift along
like the leaf that's a floatin' down the river."
"Very pretty, my dear," Mrs. Mayfield replied. "Thought is not
happiness, though bliss may not lie wholly in ignorance. I should think
that the happiness most nearly perfect is the half-unconscious rest of
a thoughtful mind--the sound sleep of the strong."
"That's all very well," said Old Jasper, waving his long lash over the
steers. "But you can't gauge happiness, and half the time you can't tell
what fetches it about. Some days you find yo'se'f miserable when thar
ain't nuthin' happened, an' the next day, when still nuthin' has tuck
place to change things, you find yo'se'f happy. If you kin do a little
suthin' to help a po' body along--an' do it, mind you, without thinkin'
that you air doin' it fur a purpose, then the chances air that you'll be
happy all day. But ef you help a feller with the idee of it a makin' you
happy, it won't, somehow. It's like the card player a givin' a man money
becaze he thinks it will fetch him good luck. I ricolleck one time I
seed a big feller a bullyin' a po' little devil, an' I told him to quit
an' he wouldn't, an' I whaled him. Didn't think nuthin' about it till I
got nearly home an' I foun' myse'f a whistlin' like a bird, an' all that
day I was as happy as a lark."
"Of co'se, ef you had a fight," Margaret spoke up. "To you it was like
eatin' a piece o' June apple pie. Ah, don't I ricolleck once when we
went to a political speakin'? I reckon I do. A settin' thar jest as
quiet as could be, a listin' to a man that was makin' the puttiest
speech, a talkin' like a preacher, an' all at once you hopped up an'
made at him an' I never seed such a fight--an' you come a walkin' back
to me with yo' hands full of his hair. Laws a massy, don't I ricolleck
it?"
"Talkin' putty! W'y, Margaret, the feller was a tellin' of a lie. I
didn't want to fight him an' break up the meetin', an' I was showin'
that by settin' thar so quiet. But when he begun to lie, it was my duty
to remind him of it."
"Wall," she replied, after a moment's silence, "if that preacher out
thar at Dry Fork' to-day begins to say things that you think ain't true,
jest set thar an' say nuthin', fur it ain't none o' yo' business."
"That's right, Margaret. I don't kere what a man says when he's a
preachin', jest so he don't p'int at me. He kin say that Moses drunk up
the Red Sea ef he wants to--but he mustn't p'int as if he could prove it
by me."
"Oh, it would do you a world of good ef he did p'int at you. Nuthin' on
the yeth would please you so much."
Down into the lowlands lying along a blue river the wagon rolled. Here
the vegetation was rank, and the tops of the hickory trees were dim in
the dazzling blue above. Great birds with long legs stretched out far
behind, flew past, ancient war-bolts they seemed; and a flying squirrel
looped his flight from one tree to another. The tall rattle weed, in
bloom, nodded a yellow salute as they passed.
"We are the guests of honor," said Mrs. Mayfield. "They have marshalled
a gay army of soldiers to meet us."
"The roots of them weeds is pizen," Jasper spoke up, cutting off a
yellow plume with his whip. "They look suthin' like the stalk of
angelica an' sometimes they air dug up by mistake fur sich. See that
squirrel. Look how he rattles up that hickory bark. Wall, down yan we
turn to the right an' go up a little rise, dip down ag'in, then go up
an' keep on a goin' up fur about a mile an' thar's the church. Who
preaches to-day, Margaret?"
"Brother Fetterson."
"Ah, hah, good man; an' I want to say that he's got mighty fine jedgment
when it comes to a hoss. He fust rid in here on a hoss that had about
fo' j'ints to the squar foot. Some of our fellers told him he was so
thin he oughtn't be rid in the day--ought to keep him fur the dark;
called him a sort of night mare. But he tuck it good natured an' jest
kep' on a chawin' o' his tobacker. Then atter a while he lows that mebby
some good brother mout like to swap with him, an' ever'body laughed
fitten to kill. Then he said mebby they mout like to swop saddles. Wall,
they done that an' right thar was the rise of that preacher in the good
opinion of this here community, fur it wan't long till he swopped off
his hoss, a givin' the saddle to boot, an' he kept on a swoppin' till
the fust thing we knowed he had the finest hoss in the whole
neighborhood, an' the fust feller he swopped with was a walkin' an' a
totin' his saddle. That's the sort of a preacher the folks likes to
hear, fur they've got confidence in his jedgment."
The log meeting-house was on a hill in the midst of a walnut grove. Its
roof was green with moss and its sides gray and yellow. Many a storm
had swept over this old pile of wood. In it the ordinance of secession
had been read. Knives flashed, pistols barked, and blood was poured out
upon the floor. Old Oliver's horses ate their oats at the marble altar
of an ancient cathedral; and within these log walls, and at this long
slab, this mourners' bench, tear-stained by a generation long since in
the grave, the horses of the guerrillas ate their corn. Descendants of
the same men, carrying on what might have seemed a continuation of the
same family quarrel, first one side and then another occupied Dry Fork
as a fort; and when the rain was pouring as if to wash away the blood,
Buell slept on a bench in this old house, and two days later Bragg's
orders were issued from its pulpit.
Numerous horses were tied about and the mule colt was blowing his treble
horn. Maidens in their finery and young fellows rigged out from the pack
of the nomadic Hebrew walked about, glancing shyly at one another. On
the grass beneath the trees, lying, squatting, sitting, old men talked
of early frosts and late snows, of strange and wonderful things that
had happened away back in the days of misty tradition; one man's father
had seen a ghost, and another man's grandfather, while leading to the
altar a beautiful girl, was suddenly horrified to see her turn into a
hideous witch. When Jasper's "haul" had got out of the wagon, and while
the women were shaking out their skirts, Laz Spencer came along in
jacket and shrunken trousers.
"Laz," said Jasper, "you ought to sue that peddler. Yo' britches hain't
shrunk the same. One leg's shorter than tuther."
"So I hearn," Laz replied, looking first at one leg and then at the
other. "But britches ain't whut's a troublin' me at the present writin'.
Miss lady's duds is what's a ailin' of me. Mag Bailey 'lowed she'd meet
me over here, but she didn't come. I'd ruther be deceived by ten men
than one woman. You kin whup a man, but it won't do to whup a woman till
you marry her, an' even then it's sorter dangersome."
"She's your fiance, I suppose," Tom remarked, winking at his aunt.
"I don't know whut you mean, but she ain't my nuthin' it don't seem
like."
"I mean you are engaged to her."
"Don't look much like it. Told her ef she'd meet me over here we mout
be. Reckon her not comin' is a hint that she ain't agreeable to the
p'int. How air you an' Lou a gittin' along?"
Margaret began to cough and Jasper ducked down behind the wagon. Lou
blushed until her cheeks were as red as the ribbon on her hat. "I git
along well with ever'body," she said.
"You embarrass us, Mr. Spencer," Tom spoke up, red as the breast of a
robin.
"That so?" replied Laz. "Wall, Mister, ef you don't want to be jolted
don't try to jolt me."
"I beg your pardon, sir, if--"
"Oh, no harm done, Mister. Wait a minit," he added, squatting and
peering down the hill among the trees. "I'm a billy goat with only one
ho'n ef yander don't come Mag with Sim Mason. Him an' her as sho's I'm a
foot high. Say, Jasper, they calls the sakermint the blood o' the lamb,
don't they? Wall, ef they want it to-day they kin have the blood of a
calf."
"Oh, Mr. Spencer," cried Mrs. Mayfield, going to him in alarm, "I do
hope you'll have no trouble."
"Hope so, too, ma'm, but I ain't a signin' no notes of hand. Look, he's
a hitchin' her hoss fur her an' you see ef he don't walk with her up to
the church do'. An' ef he do, thar's--whut did I tell you?"
Sim walked to the church door with Mag, and then in observance of
established customs, sauntered off, happening to stroll in the direction
of Laz. Margaret appealed to Jasper. "Don't you let 'em have no trouble
here. If you do, I won't let you have no peace fur a month."
"Don't expect to have none nohow," the old man drawled.
Sim came along and Laz stepped forth to meet him. The newcomer advanced,
holding out his hand. "Laz," he said, "I'm glad to be of some service to
you. Mag was a comin' to church an' as her sister couldn't come I rode
along with her. Me an' her sister air goin' to be married befo' long."
Laz took hold of his hand. "Sim," he said, and his voice wavered and
tears gathered in the sympathetic eyes of Mrs. Mayfield--"Sim, I done
you wrong. I 'lowed you was a tryin' to cut me out an' I done you a
injestice, an' ef thar's any sort of punishment you want to put on me,
put it thar an' I'll take it an' won't say a word."
"Laz, old hoss, I've already put the punishment on you--I've tuck her
sister Ella, the flower an' the perfume of the family."
"They tell us," said Mrs. Mayfield, turning to her nephew, "that once
the sun went down and never more arose to illumine a day of gallantry.
They did not tell us the truth."
"No, auntie. These people are the unconscious survivors of the floral
contest at the poetic court of love."
"Ah, and they have even touched you, wayward boy. But come, shall we not
go into the house?"
"You folks go on an' I'll be there atter a while," replied Jasper.
"Thar's a feller over yander that's got a bay nag I want an' I mout
strike up a swop with him by the time the preacher gits to his second
an'--der--rer."
"You ain't goin' to do no sich of a thing," said Margaret. "I didn't
come all the way over here to be humiliated. You'll go right in thar an'
set down by me. Folks have said you don't love me an' I don't intend
that you shall prove it to 'em."
Jasper grinned, took her arm, and led the way into the house. It was a
long sermon, with many excursions, devious hog-paths running criss-cross
through a wilderness. But it was ardent and hammering. Old Satan was
defied, dared to come forth and show himself to this assembly, true
soldiers of the cross. Children nodding and held upright by their
mothers, hands hanging limp, looked like rag dolls; and many a strong
man and devil-hating dame felt themselves slipping off into drowsiness.
Jasper snored. Margaret pinched him, determinedly awake in order to
inflict punishment; and when at last the welcome benediction fell upon
nodding heads and weary shoulders, there was a scramble for the doors
and a rush for the baskets. Jasper swore that he never was as hungry in
all his life, and upon his arm Margaret put a restraining hand.
"Now don't eat like you never got nothin' at home. Miz Mayfield, it's
all put on with him."
A table cloth was spread on the ground and before the old man had tasted
a morsel, he went about looking for someone, astray at the feast, who
might not have brought a basket or received an invitation. He returned
with Laz, Sim and Mag. The girl minced, nibbling at a chicken wing, and
the boys pretended to be dainty, but when the girls were not looking,
grabbed like a hired hand at a barbecue. After a time, when the sun had
moved far around, Old Jasper wiped his knife on his trousers and
remarked: "Wall, I don't know how the rest of you feel, but as for me
I'm goin' off down thar summers in the holler an' take a nap."
Margaret protested, but a word from Mrs. Mayfield assured him that
privilege, and he strode away, humming as he went. Laz and Mag
"santered" off, Sim sprawled out to sleep, Tom and Lou bird-peeped at
each other and Jim and Mrs. Mayfield sat on a log in a lace-work of sun
and shade.
"This has been one of the happiest days of my life," she said. "I didn't
know that there could be so much pleasure without incident. Ah, a
quaint and plotless people, Mr. Reverend."
"There may be more plot than you think, ma'm. These folks all have their
troubles. And on the hill-side where you see the white flower, blood
runs sometimes. Uncle Jasper and I are about the last of our race--last
of the men folks. Most of us have been killed."
"I don't see how that could be, Mr. Reverend. Such gentleness--"
"Don't be fooled in us, ma'm. We ain't been always blameless. Through
our house old Satan has walked, leaving his tracks."
"Satan tempted the Son of Man, Mr. Reverend."
"Yes, ma'm; but didn't walk through His house, leaving of his tracks."