Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
MITCH MILLER
BY
EDGAR LEE MASTERS
Author Of
STARVED ROCK, SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY, ETC., ETC.
With Illustrations By
JOHN SLOAN
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1920
All rights reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT, 1920, By EDGAR LEE MASTERS.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1920.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
To My Little Daughters
MADELINE AND MARCIA
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
MITCH MILLER
[Illustration: Mitch Miller]
Supposin' you was lyin' in a room and was asleep or pretty near asleep;
and bein' asleep you could hear people talkin' but it didn't mean
nothin' to you--just talk; and you kind of knew things was goin' on
around you, but still you was way off in your sleep and belonged to
yourself as a sleeper, and what was goin' on didn't make no difference
to you; and really, supposin' you was tryin' to get back into deeper
sleep before you heard these things. And then, supposin' now and then as
your eyes rolled back into your head while sleepin' you saw through the
lids--not tryin' to look, but your eyes just saw as they rolled past the
open place between the lids--and you saw squares of light and dark, or
maybe roundish blurs. And then supposin' sometimes you heard a noise,
and as it turned out it was somebody goin' in and out of the room, or
somebody closin' or openin' a door. And supposin' these here people were
not tip-toein' exactly, but were kind of watchin' and laughin' a little
maybe to see what you would do when you woke up. And finally one of your
eyes kind of opened and you saw your ma sittin' in the corner, sewin',
or peelin' apples maybe; and you saw your pa goin' out of a door, and
your sister came up to you and looked clost to see when you was goin' to
wake up. And supposin' after a bit you sat up and rubbed your eyes, and
looked around and you was in a room, and the room was in your ma's
house, and your ma sat there, sure enough, and your pa was goin' out of
the door, and your sister was lookin' at you. And supposin' then you
went out-doors and there was a yard and you saw the house from the
outside, and there was a house near and other houses, and a fence in
front, and wagons goin' by and people. And then supposin' by and by you
found out that a railroad ran right by the side fence, and a great big
black thing makin' a noise and blowin' out smoke came close to the fence
sometimes, and a man would be ridin' in a little house on top of this
big black thing, who talked to you, and laughed when you showed him a
pipe made out of a cork and a match, and a cherry-seed put in a
hollowed-out place of the cork for tobacco.
And then supposin' other children came around, and finally you went out
on to a sidewalk and saw lots of houses, and by and by ran away and saw
stores all around a lovely square and a great court house in the center.
And supposin' you found out that there was a river just under the hills
you could see beyond the railroad, and by and by you heard your folks
say Petersburg; and by and by you knew that was the name of this town.
And sometimes you could see more of the town, because your grandpa and
grandma came with a carriage and drove clear through the town so as to
get to the country and out to the farm where they lived.
And then supposin' one day all the things in the house was loaded on a
wagon and you rode with your ma up the hill to a better house and a
bigger yard with oak trees, and the things were put in the house and
you began to live here, and saw different houses around, and different
children came to play; and supposin' there was a girl named Cooster
McCoy that used to come to the fence and make faces and say awful words
which your ma told you was wicked and would make God punish you if you
said 'em: and then supposin' you began to hear your pa and ma talk of
Mr. Miller and what a wonderful man he was, and Mrs. Miller and what a
good woman she was, and about the Miller girls, how funny and smart they
was, and about Mitch Miller, the wonderfulest boy in town. And supposin'
you went with your ma to visit 'em and when you got there you saw Mr.
Miller readin' to Mrs. Miller, and you saw the Miller girls playin', and
you saw Mitch Miller chewin' gum and readin' a book, and was so taken
with the book he wouldn't play with you, but finally said he'd read to
you, and so began to read from a book which he said was "Tom Sawyer,"
which was all about a boy just our age. And supposin' you got the book
after a while and you read it too, but you understood it only because
after a while Mitch explained it to you.
Well, this is the way it began: first the room, then the house--then the
town in a way--and then Mitch--but I got acquainted with him really and
he became my friend as I tell about after a while. Only now I just tell
how things began to clear up as I came out of sleep, as you might say.
And onct when I was up to Mr. Miller's and he was readin' from
Shakespeare to Mrs. Miller he came to a place where it says, "Our little
life is rounded by a sleep." I remember this because Mr. Miller stopped
and began to talk about it; and Mitch looked up from readin' "Tom
Sawyer," and I began to think about the sleep I came out of, and how
things at first seemed kind of double and like you had taken so-and-so's
cure for consumption which ma says has opium in it. For when I took it
for a cold, things kind of swum around me like a circular looking-glass,
that you could see through somehow, and everything seemed kind of way
off and funny and somethin' to laugh at and not treat as real.
Well, at first, too, everything seemed alive--even sticks and stones;
and the broomstick I made into a gun seemed to have a life or kind of a
memory of somethin'. And when I told Mr. Miller this he says, you're a
savage, or you've been one in some other life, or else maybe you're
repeatin' the life of a savage, and he called it filogenesis, or
somethin' like that.
But anyway, your town comes to you at last; at least the town as it is
then and seems to you then with all the folks in it, and your relatives,
and all their ways and all the stories about 'em. And you get your place
and find your friends, and you find one friend as I found Mitch. And so
you're awake, or as much awake, we'll say, as you are at first in the
morning when you first stretch out of bed. And so you get ready for the
day and the next sleep----
CHAPTER I
I got acquainted with Mitch this way: In the first place when we moved
to Petersburg and got into our house and was settled, one day Bob
Pendleton came to see me. He said he'd come to call--that's the word he
used. You see right in front of our house was Mr. Montgomery's house--an
awful big brick house, with a big yard; and the back of it was in front
of our house with a tall hedge; but there was a place to go through the
hedge, through a grape arbor up to the house, and around to the front
yard. Next to Mr. Montgomery's yard was Bucky Gum's pasture where he
kept his cows. But if you stood down by the pasture away from Mr.
Montgomery's hedge, you could look across and see Mr. Pendleton's fine
brick house where Bob, this boy, lived. Mr. Pendleton kept a store and a
bank and was awful rich; and when Bob came to call on me my ma was
tickled most to death. She wanted me to have nice friends, boys who
would grow up and be prominent in the world. And when Bob first came she
went to the door and let him in and then came to me and made me wash and
comb my hair. So I went in and here was Bob.
He had on a new suit and shiny shoes and a bow necktie, and he had a
little ring on his finger. But he was so thin that he had to stand up
twice to make a shadow. So he set there and nothin' much was said. I was
afraid to ask him to swing, or to go to the barn, or anything. By and
by he asked me if I had read "Little Men." I said no. Then he asked me
if I had read the Pansy series. I said no to that; then he asked me if I
subscribed to "Our Youth," which was a boys' paper full of good stories
about nice girls and boys. I'd never heard of it. Then he asked me if I
liked to play ball, and of course I did. And he said he had a ball
ground in his orchard and to come over some time. Myrtle, my sister,
liked nice boys, but she thought Bob was not the right kind of nice. But
ma urged the friendship on me. And so it began.
And I must say Bob was a good boy, and I have no complaints to make; but
I didn't know Mitch then, and so didn't see the difference so much.
Well, Bob liked me and he kept havin' me over to his house. He had a big
yard with trees in it, and a fountain with a stone figure of a little
boy, not much clothes on, holdin' an urn. Bob's pa was the leadin'
member of the Baptist Church and awful strict; and as Mitch's father was
a Congregational preacher, Mr. Pendleton didn't like him on account of
differin' with him about baptism.
Bob's house was just full of fine things--oil paintings of his father
and mother, his sisters and himself; fine furniture all in horsehair;
lots of silver for the table; and they kept two girls and had had 'em
for years; and Mrs. Pendleton watched Bob very careful so he wouldn't
catch cold or anything, because he had a weak chest. And Bob would take
me down to his father's store where we got raisins and candy, and we
played ball in the orchard.
Everything Bob had was brand new, and you had to be careful of it. He
had a new ball; and on the day I met Mitch we was pitchin' ball--Bob and
me, in the orchard--and Bob kept saying to be careful and not let it
roll in the grass or get in the mud, that he wanted to keep it white and
clean. Well, of course, I missed now and then and Bob seemed displeased.
And when it rolled into the mud he came up and took the ball and wiped
it off and looked mad. Just then he said: "There comes that Mitch
Miller, and I think we'd better quit playin' anyway." I knew Mitch's
name and had seen him, but we hadn't run together yet.
Mitch climbed over the fence into the orchard, and Bob began to kind a
move away. I could see that Bob didn't want him, for he said, "Come on,
Arthur." Everybody called me Skeet, though my name was Arthur, which I
hated. Bob always called me Arthur and made me call him Robert, though
his nickname was "Shadder." When Bob said to come on to me, Mitch says,
"Wait a minute, Skeet, I've somethin' to tell you." So I said to Bob,
"Wait a minute, Robert," and Bob said, "You're comin' now or not at
all." That made me mad, so I stood there. Bob went on and Mitch came up.
[Illustration: Mitch Climbed over the Fence]
"Let him go," said Mitch. "You don't care, do you?"
"Not much," says I.
"Well, I hope not," says Mitch. "He's a sissy--spoiled by his ma. And
you don't call this any fun, do you, pitchin' ball with a ball so good
that you dassn't let it roll on the ground? Now, I've seen you around,
Skeet, and I like you, and if you like me, we'll be chums, and go havers
on everything, and if anybody fights you he'll have to fight me, and the
same way with me, and I'll bet we'll have more fun together in a day
than you could have with Shadder Pendleton in a year. Do you agree?" I
said, "Yes, I agree," for I liked Mitch--I liked his name, I liked his
way, and his face, his voice, everything about him right then; and I
knew what I was promisin'.
Mitch says, "Do you want to have some fun?" I says, "You bet I do."
"Well," Mitch says, "there's more goin' on in this town than you ever
saw, if you only keep your eyes open. But I'll bet Shadder never hears
of it, and if you run with him you'll never hear of it either. Do you
know what's goin' to happen to-day?" "No," says I.
"Well," says Mitch, "Jack Plunkett, who was town marshal here once, and
Ruddy Hedgpeth are goin' to have a fight to see which can whip the
other."
"Where?" says I.
"Down near Old Salem," says Mitch, "on the flat sand by the river, clost
to the mill. And I want to see it, and so do you."
"You bet I want to see it," I said.
So Mitch went on to tell me that Jack Plunkett had never been whipped
and neither had Ruddy Hedgpeth. They had whipped everybody but each
other. And each said he could whip the other. And last Saturday Ruddy
was in town and went around the square sayin' he could whip Jack, and
Jack heard it and sent back word he'd fight him a week off, on a
Saturday, and this is the Saturday. And Mitch said we'd better hurry so
as to get there before the fight was over, Old Salem bein' about a mile
from town.
By this time Shadder had walked out of the orchard and was pretty near
to the house and Mitch said, "Now he's gone, let him go, and come on. If
he ever says you left him, you can say he left you, for he did."
It was a spring day--it was April--and we walked as fast as we could,
runnin' part of the time. Mitch was wild about the country, about trees,
birds, the river and the fields. And he whistled and sang. On the way
out he began to talk to me about "Tom Sawyer," and asked me if I had
read the book. This was one of the books I _had_ read; so I said so. And
Mitch says, "Do you know we can do exactly what Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn
did?"
"What's that?" I said.
"Why, find treasure. It's just as surely here as anything. Of course
there ain't no caves around here, at least I don't know of any. But
think of the old houses--look at that old house down there by the ravine
that goes into the river across from Mr. Morris' wagon shop. Think of
those old houses clost to the Baptist Church; and think of the dead
limbs on the trees in Montgomery's woods. But of course if we go into
this, no one must know what we are doin'. We must keep still and if they
catch us diggin', we must lie. If you don't know how to lie very well,
Skeet, just listen to me and foller the story I tell."
I agreed to this. And Mitch went on.
"And by and by, we'll find treasure and divide it, for I have taken you
for my chum and half of mine is yours, and a half of yours is mine."
[Illustration: Looking down on the Sand Bank]
By this time we had come to a pretty high bank about a hundred yards
from the mill. We heard voices and looked down on the sand bank, and
there were about fifty men sittin' or standin' around. And there was my
pa. So I says, "I can't go down there, Mitch, my pa will whip me or
drive me away. I know for certain he wouldn't want me to see this."
"Well," says Mitch, "what's the difference? We're not more'n 75 feet
away from 'em and can see everything and hear everything if there's
anything to hear. So let's just lie down here in the grass and take it
easy, and look down on 'em and watch it." So we did. There seemed to be
some arrangin' of things. My pa seemed to be standin' clost to Ruddy
Hedgpeth and talkin' to him and kind of advisin' him or takin' care of
him. And George Montgomery was doin' the same for Jack Plunkett. Mitch
says, "They're the seconds."
"What's that?" says I.
"Why," says Mitch, "seconds see that everything is fair, and no
foolin'."
We could hear most everything they said, and they were talkin' about
whether Jack Plunkett could choke Ruddy Hedgpeth if he got him. My pa
said not; and Jack Plunkett said it was a fight to see who could whip
the other, and if he got Ruddy so he could lay his hands on him and
choke him until he gave up, that was fair and he insisted on it. Then
Ruddy and my pa stepped to one side and talked secret; and then my pa
said out loud that it was all right, and chokin' would not be barred;
but of course what one could do, the other could. Jack Plunkett laughed
at this an awful mockin' laugh, because he was the most terrible choker
in the county and felt he could get the best of anybody in a chokin'
match.
Then Jack and Ruddy began to undress, that is, they took off everything
but their pants. Jack had a beard and a big square face, and a chest as
thick as a horse and arms as big as a man's legs. And Ruddy was about as
big only a little shorter, but he wore no beard, but his face and chest
looked clean and slick and he was known to be an awful hard hitter. Then
they got out on a flat place, level and hard sand, and began, my pa and
George Montgomery takin' care of them and about fifty others watchin' as
I said.
They stood and eyed each other and walked around and watched for a
chance. Pretty soon Ruddy hit Jack on the chin and sent his head back
and Jack rushed on Ruddy and got his hands on him, but Ruddy slipped
away. Then Jack hit Ruddy, and Ruddy kind of wheeled around; and Jack
rushed for Ruddy again, and again got his hands on him, but they
slipped off. Then they seemed to get close together and just pound each
other; and pretty soon Ruddy hit Jack and knocked him down. But Jack got
right up and grabbed Ruddy and got an awful grip on him. "He's goin' to
choke him now. He'll get him now, sure." And they tusseled for a while,
Jack tryin' to get Ruddy's throat, but Ruddy always keepin' away, though
pretty near gettin' it. Finally Ruddy broke clear loose and hit Jack an
awful blow right in the chest. Then Jack went crazy mad. He rushed on
Ruddy and got him by the throat and began to choke him. Meanwhile Ruddy
was fightin' Jack's hands away and finally slipped 'em off again and as
Jack came for him, Ruddy hit him and knocked Jack down again. Then he
rushed on Jack and was about to choke him too, but Jack hopped up and
kind of run off a little, then turned around and made for Ruddy again
and struck Ruddy and knocked him into a heap. This was the first time
for Ruddy; and he got right up and as Jack came up, he just rained the
blows on Jack until Jack began to wilt and finally he came up with a
regular sledge hammer and Jack fell over on the sand flat on his back,
and lay there, his big white chest just goin' up and down like a
bellows. I forgot to say that Harold Carman was there; and every time
one was knocked down, he began to count. Mitch said if they counted 25
and you didn't get up, you was whipped. Well, this time Harold Carman
counted 25 and then went on and counted 50 and still Jack didn't get up,
but lay there his breast goin' up and down for air. Then everybody began
to laugh. And the fight was given to Ruddy Hedgpeth; and when it was,
Jack got up and picked up a club and started for Ruddy to kill him. So
all the men pitched on to Jack and began to hold him; and Jack was
bloody and was swearin' and sayin' he had been tricked and that he could
lick Ruddy with one hand in a fair fight. "Ruddy Hedgpeth is a coward,"
says Jack; "he put sweet oil on his chest and throat so I couldn't choke
him when I got my hands on him. He's a coward and I've been tricked."
My pa was not a very big man, but he warn't afraid of no one. And he
says: "Anything was fair, so as to whip, and you're whipped and you'd
better shut up." So Jack made for my pa and pa stooped down and picked
up a rock and stood his ground. The other men interfered; and George
Montgomery said the sweet oil was fair and they all turned on Jack and
he had to take his medicine. Then they broke up and started to climb the
bank; and Mitch and me ran into the woods at the side of the road and
waited until they went.
"How was that?" said Mitch.
"That was wonderful," says I.
"Well, you stick with me, and I'll show you a lot of things. Do you want
to dig for treasure with me?" I said, "Of course"; and Mitch says:
"We'll begin right away in Montgomery's woods. For I've been over there
lots, and there are sloughs of dead limbs and we're bound to find it.
I've got something on to-night. Mr. Bennett's daughter Nellie is goin'
to be married and we can get under the window and see it. It's the
grandest thing ever happened here. The wedding cake has diamonds on it,
and everybody that comes, that's invited, of course, is given some kind
of a gift, and Nellie has solid silver buckles on her shoes and a veil
that cost $50. I'll come for you," says Mitch. And so a little after
supper Mitch whistled for me, and we went to the Bennett house and
fooled around waiting.