all the great days of the year, such as Christmas and the like, but
usually not more than two or three guests were invited on such
occasions. The dinner now to be given, however, was intended to surpass
all others in the number of guests, if not in its other appointments,
and this because of the conjunction of notable events it was designed to
commemorate. Thus, the day being Christmas, it was one of feasting, and
then, too, it was intended to fittingly celebrate Uncle Job's reentry
into the world. Moreover, the announcement of his betrothal to Miss
Betty Singleton was here to be made for the first time. This last not
all the guests knew about in advance, so that it came to them in the
nature of a happy surprise. Altogether the dinner was on a great scale
for Appletop, and considering, too, the limited time allowed for its
preparation. In the new country, however, wild game of every kind and
delicacy was plentiful, and this was made the chief feature of the
occasion. Other necessary things more difficult to obtain Mr. Seymour
was in the habit of collecting at his leisure and unknown to the
purveyors of the town. These supplemented the substantial things I have
mentioned, and in extent and delicacy were such as one would hardly have
believed possible in so remote a country. It fell out, therefore, and
because every resource was taxed to the utmost that the event was a
notable one, as our host intended it should be. This, however, was not
by any means trumpeted abroad lest it should increase the growing
Unrest, as I have said, in respect to such Trivial Matters.
Another thing I may mention that added to the disquiet with which Mr.
Seymour's dinners were viewed was the fact that Wine was served,
although sparingly, it was claimed, by the more conservative among his
friends. The practice, however was thought to be Bacchanalian in Its
Tendency and likely to encourage Habits of Intemperance in the Young,
and because of this ought to be Frowned upon by Every One. These
objections I could never understand, because of the great quantities of
whisky and poor liquors of all kinds that were openly consumed in the
country. This, too, in reckless disregard of health and the peace of
the community, which latter was often grievously disturbed thereby. In
view of these complainings, and it may be with some reference to their
effect upon the patronage of the Dragon, such circumspection was
observed by the host as was possible without interfering with the
festivities the dinners were designed to celebrate.
We received the Singletons in a body, every one being glad to see Miss
Betty in such fine color and without trace of tears or weariness of any
kind to cloud her fair face. Contrary to her habit, she was now
demure--nay, blushing and shy; at which Constance and I looked at each
other in surprise. This being the first time I had seen Mr. Singleton
since the happenings on the steamboat, I was greatly interested to know
what kind of a person he was, and in this was pleasantly surprised. For
he proved to be a man of great good sense and sprightliness of manner,
in which love of his family was plainly apparent. This not strangely,
for men of correct lives and most lovable traits, I have since come to
know, are often led astray as he had been. Usually, too, in such cases
it needs some shock such as he had received to make them conscious of
the outcome that sooner or later overtakes all who give themselves up
unreservedly to play.
Since the great trial, Uncle Job had done nothing but stand about the
common room of the Dragon and receive the congratulations of the
community, now as outspoken in its good wishes as it was for the moment
evasive and cold. On the present occasion he bore himself like the fine
gentleman he was, and when he offered Mrs. Singleton his arm to take her
out to dinner I thought there was not a handsomer man in the world, nor
one who made so little of it, either. In this belief I was sure others
of the company shared, and more especially Miss Betty, who could hardly
keep her eyes off him, so great was her admiration. Seated about the
table the faces of all present, and more particularly Uncle Job's and
Miss Betty's, evinced the utmost contentment and happiness, and such
altogether as befitted an occasion so rare in their lives. Seeing
which, every one smiled their approval and satisfaction.
When the more serious business of the dinner was over, Mr. Seymour
toasted the bride to be, and with so much delicacy of manner and
expertness of speech that we could not take our eyes off him for the
surprise of it. What he said was attended with many happy blushes on
the part of Miss Betty, and afterward by much hilarity on the part of
the company, in which Uncle Job joined, and with such spirit, too, as I
had never seen in him before. Surely, I thought, you are in great luck,
Miss Betty, to get so fine a man for a husband. Then Uncle Job was
toasted by Mr. Seymour, and this with such elaboration of compliment and
prolixity of happy discourse that we thought he would never let go the
opportunity to felicitate the company and Uncle Job on the event we were
celebrating. This greatly increased the good feeling of all present,
and for a time there was such a bedlam of voices and clinking of glasses
that I tiptoed to the door lest some inkling of it should come to the
ears of the sleeping village. When quiet had been secured, though this
was not possible for a long time, Mr. Seymour turned to where I sat,
with much solemnity of manner, as if amid all our joy some discordant
note had been struck, saying:
"Having drunk to the health and happiness of our guests of honor, I
desire in the most kindly way to condole with our young friend and
Knight of the Road, Mr. Gilbert Holmes."
At this every one looked up in surprise, not knowing what he meant, and
for a time all conversation ceased, but Mrs. Singleton, presently
regaining her voice, cried out:
"Pray, why should you condole with my young sweetheart, Mr. Seymour?
What has he done, or what misfortune hangs over him? I am sure he looks
as happy as any one here."
"That is true, Mrs. Singleton; but the mercenary element in our nature
never shows itself till we have had some experience of life. Gilbert is
no exception to the rule, and so his dreams are still undisturbed. Give
him time, Mrs. Singleton, give him time, and then you will see how his
face will furrow with anxiety and the unhappiness that accompanies a
discontented mind," Mr. Seymour answered, in his grave, stately way.
"We don't understand at all the drift of what you are saying, Mr.
Seymour," Mrs. Singleton went on. "Surely we should all of us be
unhappy if a cloud were to come between Gilbert and the sun, no matter
how small it might be."
"What is it, papa? Don't you see you have put a stop to all the
pleasantry by what you are saying?" Constance spoke up, and with some
irritation of manner, too, I thought.
"It is a serious matter, Doll, and one that calls for sympathy if not
active aid, and in this I know all will agree," Mr. Seymour went on,
stopping as if the better to engage attention.
"What is it, Henry, if you are at all in earnest," Uncle Job now spoke
up, "that can possibly threaten the happiness of one I love more than
any one on earth, except--"
"Except Miss Betty, of course," Mr. Seymour responded, quietly. "There,
don't blush, sweet lady. It was a slip of the tongue, and excusable, I
am sure. I must believe, however, from what you say, Job, that you are
something of a dissembler," Mr. Seymour went on; "for is it a light
thing to cut off a young man without a settled income or hopes of any
kind, as you are preparing to do? Yesterday Gilbert was an heir, your
expectant heir; now how does it stand? Gilbert, you are undone, and by
your uncle of all men!"
At this foolish ending there was a roar of laughter, in which I joined
more heartily than any one else, for of the need of money I then knew
nothing. I therefore cried out with great cheerfulness:
"I'm glad to give up my prospects to Miss Betty, for I shouldn't know
what to do with money if I had it. Besides, the ladies, it is said, are
less able to get on without it than the rest of us."
"There is another fling at women!" Miss Betty cried, gayly. "Fie,
Gilbert, for you to slur us when you know I have always admired you next
to--to--"
"Out with it, Miss Betty--next to Job, of course. How slyly they
compliment each other, and properly, too; but it's a toss-up between Job
and Gilbert, don't you think, Constance?" Mr. Seymour asked, turning to
her.
"Yes, I'm sure it is, for I have always admired Mr. Throckmorton next
to--to--Gilbert," Constance replied, with great pertness, looking at
Miss Betty and laughing.
"Well, to straighten it out and make every one happy again, I propose,
Betty, that we make him our joint heir, thus doubling his prospects,"
Uncle Job broke in, turning to her.
"I agree to that with all my heart," she cried in response, "and propose
we toast him as such"; and this every one at once proceeded to do.
"That ought to be satisfactory, but still I very much fear Gilbert's
prospects are in the dumps," Mr. Seymour responded, with mock gravity.
In this way, and with much similar talk and hilarity, the evening passed
to the great enjoyment of every one present. Mr. Seymour, mindful of
decorum, had named an early hour for the dinner, so that it was over in
time not to shock the more staid of the community, who were ever of the
opinion, in the infancy of the republic, that respectability and good
hours went hand in hand.
*CHAPTER XLII*
*AN ADVENTURE*
The next day we all met in the Treasure room of the Dragon, but not
altogether by chance I thought, however it might have appeared at first,
for after a little talk about unimportant things, my future was brought
up for discussion and settlement. Indeed, it was for this the meeting
had been called, and it would have gone hard with me, I am convinced,
except for Constance and the great tact she showed. For it appeared
that Uncle Job and Mr. Seymour were both of the firm opinion that my
education could no longer be neglected, and this being so I must at once
go away to school. Upon their finally intimating as much, I, not
knowing what to say, turned to Constance and implored her by a look to
come to my aid. For to leave Appletop meant our parting, and this I was
now in no way inclined to after having been away from her so long.
Answering my appeal, the sweet girl went to her father, and placing her
arms about his neck in the most winsome way you can imagine, said:
"Is Gilbert strong enough to do this, papa? See how pale he is; and you
know he has not been himself since that dreadful storm. The trial, too,
nearly broke his heart. You remember how he cried out, and you yourself
were affected. It's only a little while, too, since he was so ill and we
thought he was going to die. I should think you'd want him to get some
strength before sending him away. Surely the school can wait."
"Why, you little puss, what do you know about Gilbert's health?" Mr.
Seymour answered, returning her caress. "You talk as wise as a doctor."
"It doesn't need a doctor to tell, papa, for we all know what he has
gone through. He never was strong, you know, and Fox told me only
yesterday that they thought he never would come to that night at the
Eagle's Nest"; and Constance looked at me as if distressed beyond
measure at my uncertain health.
"That was a long time ago, puss."
"No, not a week; and think what he's passed through before and since!"
"He will be all the better for going. The change will do him good," Mr.
Seymour answered, toying with her hair.
"Sometime, papa, but not now. Wait till he is strong. He can study with
me; why not?"
"Oh, fie on you! But what do you think, Job?" Mr. Seymour asked after a
pause. "Suppose we leave it until another day. There is some sense in
what Kit says," he went on, patting her cheeks. "Gilbert doesn't look
very rugged, and besides he could not do much before the summer
vacation."
"I had not thought of his health," Uncle Job answered, looking me over
as one might a horse he thought of running for first prize.
"Nor I; but it's as puss says, or a little that way," Mr. Seymour
answered.
"Well, then, let the matter drop for the present," Uncle Job responded.
"An education is not worth much if one breaks down in getting it. So go
and build yourself up, young man, and we will talk about it again."
Thus happily, through Constance's sweet intervention, I was granted a
further respite, and this more to my liking than I would have cared to
tell, for I was now become greatly enamored of my liberty, and thought
little of books, except as I might read them when Constance was by.
Being in this way freed from all anxiety, Constance and I did not lack
for ways in which to pass the time agreeably in each other's company.
If the weather happened to be fair, we rode or drove; or if there was
snow, went coasting on the bluff back of the town. The thing, however,
most to our liking, and of which we never tired, was skating. For this
we went to the river, but later, and best of all, to Mr. Appletop's in
the park across the road from the Dragon. This gentleman, now very old
and feeble, was the father of the village, but a mystery to all its
people, no one knowing his history, he having come into the country
while it was still occupied by the Sacs and Foxes. A wanderer and
misanthropist it was believed, he after a while married an Indian woman,
and then, as if tired of roaming, settled down a little apart from the
tribe in the house he still occupied. His wife dying about the time of
Black Hawk's war, he remained when the Indians left, and in this way
acquired a title to the land upon which the town stood. Being
improvident and of careless habits, he had little by little parted with
all his holdings until now he had scarce anything left save the park
wherein his house stood. Here he lived without servants or companions
of any kind, if I except a number of dogs he kept about him, some of
which were of good breed, but in the main were of no account whatever.
Seeing Constance and I skating one day on a small piece of ice beside
the road, he asked us to come to the lake in his private grounds. This
we did, to our great delight, and also to his no small pleasure, I must
believe, for he used to sit and watch us and applaud everything
Constance did for hours at a time.
In this manner, and to Constance's and my great happiness and the
complete building up of my health then and for all time, the winter
passed. In the spring, Uncle Job being away and having now no partner,
he made me his agent to look after the house he was building in
expectation of his marriage. This I found greatly to my liking, for in
the work Constance and Miss Betty shared, and together we conceived many
features in connection with the structure not common to the new country,
nor contemplated in the plans Uncle Job had drawn. These, it was found,
added to the cost, but he approved every one we proposed, claiming, and
rightly enough, that they would cost less then than if added at a later
period. After the house was built, much time was spent in furnishing,
trips to Galena and Chicago being thought necessary in order to make
sure we were getting the best of everything, and not patterns palmed off
on our local merchants by the more fashionable purveyors in the larger
towns.
While thus engaged I again suddenly changed my place of residence and
manner of living, and this naturally enough. For, as might have been
expected, my irregular life since leaving Wild Plum had made me
impatient to see something of the great world outside, and so ready for
any change that suggested itself. Of such things I often spoke to
Constance, but not altogether to her liking, as I could plainly see by
the expression of her eyes and more often by the tremor of her lips. In
nothing, however, did the sweet creature array herself against anything
I proposed, for had she done so I would have given it up, so great was
my love for her. Thus we talked, at first vaguely, and then more
particularly, but without anything definite, until one day we stood idly
watching the War Eagle as she lay moored at the landing below Appletop,
when suddenly seizing her hand, I cried out:
"Constance, I'm going to get a place on that boat if I can. It's the
very thing we've talked about. What happiness to ride up and down the
river and see the world, and earn your own living, too!"
At this outbreak she was so startled she could not speak, but after a
while, turning to me with a sob, said, and sorrowfully enough:
"You'll not do that, Gilbert, and leave your Uncle Job and--me!"
"You, Constance--only you!" I answered. "Uncle Job has Miss Betty now,
and so will not miss me," I answered.
"Oh, but he will! Please don't think of it any more, Gilbert. I should
never see you again, I know," she answered, taking hold of my hands.
"Yes, you would, Constance, and often, too, for the boat is passing here
all the time. When she ties up in the fall, I will come back, and it'll
not be long, either."
"Your uncle will never forgive you, Gilbert. You are like a son to him,
as you are to papa."
"I know, but I have got to make my way in the world sometime, and why
not now?" I answered.
"Papa and your Uncle Job will help you to do that, and be glad of the
chance."
"I know; but what more can they do than they have? And if I don't do
this, Constance, I'll have to go away to school soon, and then I'll not
see you for a long time, and maybe never. What if they should send me
to New York, or thereabouts. It takes months to go, and I couldn't come
back for years!"
This and much more I said to win her consent, but most of all the
thought that if I went away to school she would see me no more, at last
won her to my way. So with tears streaming down her dear face, she put
her arms about my neck and bade me do as I wished.
"There's no one on earth so good and sweet as you, Constance," I cried,
kissing her. Then, not waiting to say more, I ran down to the landing,
calling to her to stay where she was until I returned.
The captain of the War Eagle was on the upper deck, and reaching the
spot where he stood, I looked back to see Constance, sad and dejected,
standing where I had left her. Much put out now the time had come to
proffer my request, I knew not what to say or do, but presently, as the
captain did not look around, I went up to him and made known my wish,
but without any voice or heart whatever. To this he paid no attention
any more than as if I had not spoken, but continued on with the business
he had in hand. Plucking up courage after a while, I said, and now with
more animation:
"Captain, I want to get a berth on your boat, if you please."
To this he made no reply, any more than in the first instance, but
looking down called angrily to the mate about some matter that was going
wrong; and this makes me think that I have never known men with such
high tempers, or its semblance, as those who work on the rivers. For if
the smallest thing goes wrong, they appear to fly into a furious
passion; but no sooner has the occasion passed than you will see them
laughing and talking as if nothing in the world could disturb the
serenity of their tempers.
Angered beyond speaking at the captain's treatment, and observing
Constance watching me, I now went close to him, and taking hold of his
jacket gave it a jerk, calling out, loud enough to be heard half across
the river:
"Captain, I want a place on your boat as cabin-boy."
Upon this he turned about, half in anger, and eying me a moment,
demanded:
"What is that you want, young man?"
Upon this I repeated my request, but now more respectfully, and hearing
me through he answered, pleasantly enough:
"I've no work for you, my son. You are not strong enough for a
roustabout, nor tall enough to look after the berths, and besides the
darkies attend to such things."
"I only want a place as cabin-boy, sir."
"You are not smart enough for that," he replied, looking me over.
"If I don't know, I can learn," I answered, seeing my hopes slipping
away.
"You are too slight, my son, that is what I mean. There, go away; I
have no time to talk to you," and with that he turned and faced the crew
as before.
Rebuffed and discouraged, I stood still, but he taking no further notice
of me, I at last made my way to the lower deck, and now by the opposite
stairs, so as not to be seen from the shore. In this way I reached the
farther side of the boat, where I stopped, filled with such
disappointment and shame that I could not find it in my heart to go back
to Constance. While thus waiting, not knowing what to do, a woman
standing by my side gave a cry, and as she did so I heard a splash and
at the same moment the wail of a frightened child.
"Oh, my God, my baby!" she screamed, wringing her hands and leaning over
the water as if about to throw herself headlong into the stream.
Looking down, the child had disappeared, but while I gazed it came to
the surface a little way below, and doing so, threw up its hands
imploringly as it again sank beneath the water. This distressing sight
and the cries of the poor woman were such as would have stirred any one,
and without thinking I threw off my shoes, and running to the spot where
the child had disappeared, plunged into the stream. The water being
clear, I found the little thing directly, and supporting it with my arm,
brought it to the surface. Now, indeed, I was thankful to my dear
father for having one day thrown me headlong into the pool at Wild Plum,
in sport, he said, to make me swim whether I would or no. Putting my
arm about the child, I lifted it to my shoulder, and with the other
turned about to regain the boat. This I might easily have done had the
water been still, but the current turning outward with the bend in the
river, or from some other cause, carried me swiftly in the opposite
direction. Saying some soft words to the child, I soon had it quieted,
for it was in no way the worse for the ducking that I could see. Then,
on its showing some further uneasiness, I made as if we were having a
lark, whereupon it laughed, and taking up the water in its hand, dashed
it in my face, crowing with glee, as if it were great sport. The little
thing's weight was nothing, and I carried it as easily as I would a
riding-whip; but having the use of only one arm I could make no headway
whatever. As we drifted farther into the stream the current grew
stronger, boiling and bubbling about us, but without adding much, if
any, to the labor of keeping afloat. At first I plainly heard the
captain giving orders to man the yawl, but while this was being done,
the father of the child, a poor deck-hand, frenzied with grief, sprang
into the river. This, foolishly, as it appeared, for he could not swim
a stroke, and so sank where he fell. Thus he had first to be rescued,
and when the boat at last turned in my direction I was but a speck on
the distant water. The exertion of keeping afloat did not in any way
tax my strength, but not knowing the cause of the delay I could not make
out why they were so long in coming to our relief. Finally, no boat
appearing, I thought they had given us up for lost. At this I was
greatly discouraged, for I could see no way by which I could reach the
shore unaided, because of the swift current, which now ran like a
mill-race. While meditating on what I should do, I looked back, and to
my great joy saw the boat coming toward us. At this I felt as good as
new, and thus we floated on past the bend in the river, and out of
sight. This only for a moment, for the boat quickly came into view
again, throwing the spray high on either side, as if skimming the water
like a bird. Then in a moment they lifted us aboard, and we were saved,
the captain taking off his jacket and wrapping it about my body, the
mate doing the same for my little companion. When we were thus tucked
up, and not until then, the captain spoke, but it was no longer the
voice I had heard, but that of a soft-hearted, compassionate man.
"How do you think you find yourself now, my son?"
"I'm all right, sir," I answered, as indeed I was.
"We should have reached you sooner, but for that fool of a deck-hand. I
expect you found the water pretty cold?" he asked, fastening his jacket
more securely about my body.
"Not at first, sir, nor enough to hurt. The little one, though, looks
pinched. See how blue its lips are," I answered, no whit the worse for
my bath.