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THE MAN FROM JERICHO
BY EDWIN CARLILE LITSEY
NEW YORK
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1911
Copyright, 1911, by
The Neale Publishing Company
TO
PADRE FRANCOIS
Humanitarian and Friend
from his Loving Son
THE MAN FROM JERICHO
CHAPTER I
There had been a thunder-shower in the middle of the afternoon, but it
had passed away about five o'clock, accompanied by sullen rumbles and
intermittent flashes of uncertain lightning. Then the sun burst forth
and poured its light over the drenched Kentucky landscape. It showed
millions of diamonds and pearls strung upon the bending blades of
bluegrass; broad expanses of molten silver where the ponds lay, and
smaller mirrors of the same metal where puddles had formed from the
recent downpour. It showed boundless hoards of gold where the
nasturtiums were banked in a crimson mass, and the mottled bells of the
rank trumpet-vines sent forth a silent summons to the answering
sunshine. In the vivid green of a large oak tree a pair of orioles wove
a wonderful pattern of living flame as they darted about among the
boughs. Two honey-bees crawled out upon the tiny porch of their little
home, and, being assured by the instinct which God gave them that the
storm was over, arose on buzzing wings to seek some distant store of
sweets.
His attention being drawn by the sunlight bursting suddenly through the
window of the library where he sat reading--to be exact, it fell upon
the open page before his eyes--Major Thomas Dudley closed the book,
leaving one long forefinger between the leaves to mark the spot where
he had been interrupted, and turned to look outdoors. The scene which
was spread before him brought a peaceful but sad smile to his face. For
two hundred feet or more the broad yard sloped very gently down to the
highway, from which it was separated by an iron fence of ornamental
design, but now much worn, and sadly bent and twisted in places. This
yard was carpeted with a luxuriant expanse of bluegrass in which no
alien growth was allowed to find root. There were a number of majestic
trees, of the oak and maple variety, and a few shrubs, nicely trimmed. A
gravel driveway came up one side from the road, led by the old portico
in front, and from thence disappeared towards the rear in the direction
of the stable. Through the open window came the odour of honeysuckle,
heavy and sweet; the vine grew near the corner of the house. It was not
a very sightly shrub, and it marred the wonderful correctness of the
lawn no little, but the Major had his reasons for letting it alone. As a
matter of fact, the Major's wife had planted it many years before, when
their love-dream was at its height. Now she was gone, but it remained,
and it helped to keep fresh and vigorous the memories which made Thomas
Dudley's daily life a benediction to all who came within its radius.
As the perfume from the tiny white and yellow flowers crept subtly to
his nostrils--fine, delicate nostrils they were, like those of a
well-bred horse--a hungry, beseeching look stole over the old
gentleman's face. He leaned forward and placed one hand upon the
window-sill, while his eyes half closed, and his countenance became
transfigured. Then, had any been watching, they would have seen his lips
move, as though they were shaping words.
At this point the sound of shuffling feet was heard coming from the hall
running through the center of the house. Another moment a throat was
cleared in the doorway, and an apologetic voice spoke.
"Beg pahd'n, suh; but de Prince am 'peah to be bettah, suh. I went to de
stable ez soon ez de rain quit to tek a look at 'im, 'n' he hab come to
be feed, suh, sho'!"
"Peter! Peter! What's this you're telling me? The Prince eating again!"
With remarkable activity the Major arose to his feet and faced about,
eyeing with undisguised elation the figure in the doorway. It was that
of a very old negro, bowlegged and bent. His face was brown, wrinkled
and kindly in expression, with tiny corkscrews of gray hair, each
totally isolated, dispersed over it. His head was flat and bald, but for
a fringe of white wool shaped like the tonsure of a monk. He wore a
rusty pair of trousers, so patched that it was impossible to tell what
their original material had been; a brown hickory shirt tolerably new,
and suspenders made of strips of bed-ticking. His huge feet were encased
in a pair of old shoes, slit almost into shreds at the toes for the
benefit of the "mis'ry" which he frequently had there. Such was Peter,
faithful servant to the Dudleys before, during, and since the Civil
War.
"_Eatin', suh; eatin'!_" he answered, with vehemence, replying to his
master's question and accompanying the first and last words with a
forward jerk of his head, by way of emphasis.
"This is good news you bring me, boy; we must have a look at him. He's
the best bred horse in the Commonwealth," he added, to himself, as he
turned aside to place his book upon a table, carefully noting the page
as he did so. "It would be a pity in more ways than one for him to die
by accident or foul play." Then aloud--"Have you seen your mistress
recently?"
"Not since dinner, suh. I'ze heerd her say afo'time, do, dat she laks a
nap in de rainy ebenin'."
From somewhere above a voice broke out singing as Peter spoke. The tune
was a popular air of the day, lilting and free. The tones were those of
a young woman, for they rang with irrepressible vitality, and there was
hope and laughter and faith and happiness in them. The Major had started
forward, but now he stopped and his head sank as under a benediction.
Likewise did Peter's, for he always reflected his master. Thus they
stood, types of the bond and the free, while that tender voice rang on
above them as its owner moved about the room, for they could plainly
hear her light footsteps going to and fro.
In his younger years the Major must have been a man to command any one's
notice. Now, as he stood with his chin sunk in his stock under the spell
of present enchantment and precious recollections of the past, one could
behold the remnants of a magnificent physical being. He was exceedingly
tall, long of limb and square-shouldered. His hands were slender and
white; his face naturally grave and thoughtful. He was clean shaven
except for close cropped mustache and carefully cut imperial, both
white. His complexion was ruddy, but whether this was natural or
acquired it is not for us to say. Certain it is, however, that Peter
mixed his mint juleps three times a day a few minutes before each meal.
Certain it is, also, that never in his long life had Major Dudley taken
more whiskey at one time than was good for him. He held that it was a
Kentucky gentleman's prerogative to drink, in moderation, and he had the
profoundest contempt for the weakling who would bestialize himself by
getting drunk. "Whiskey, suh," he would say, "is like every other
luxury; to be used, not abused."
The singing ceased, and there was the patter of feet on the stair.
"She's awake, Peter," said the Major; "get my hat." Then as he stepped
into the hall--"News, daughter!" he cried, to the vision in pink and
white muslin descending the curved stairway. "Peter reports that the
Prince is eating. Will you go with me to see him?"
A little croon of delight escaped the vision, and the next instant she
had settled like a butterfly upon the Major's broad breast. "I knew he
would get well!" she exclaimed, rising on tiptoe and pulling with both
her hands on the shoulders of her father in a vain attempt to reach his
lips with hers. He, seeing her purpose, caught her around the waist and
lifted her bodily, though there was a matter of a hundred and twenty
pounds to reckon with, and gave her the caress with a hearty smack.
"You'll have to learn to bring a stool along with you!" he panted; "I'm
getting too old to lift such a buxom lass." But he smiled denial of his
speech and patted her cheek fondly.
Peter presenting his stove-pipe hat with a low bow, the Major took it,
placed it upon his sparse gray locks, and drawing his daughter's hand
through his arm they passed out upon the long back porch, which had an
eastern exposure, but was shaded all along its length by a species of
vine which grew luxuriantly every summer. Peter preceded them, and Peter
in motion was a sight to behold. It is useless to attempt to describe
his method of locomotion. To one unfamiliar with the peculiar gait of a
"befo' de wah" negro I can give no adequate picture of the old darkey as
he shambled along over the large flat stones laid in a row which formed
a walk to the gate of the lot wherein stood the stable. Behind him came
the stately form of Major Dudley, and by his side Miss Julia, his only
child, whose feet had just passed those elusive portals which give into
the magical realms of young womanhood.
"What _has_ been the matter with The Prince, daddy?" queried the young
lady, lifting an annoyed and earnest countenance which Nature had
blessed, or banned, however one may regard unusual beauty.
A deep furrow was immediately visible on Major Dudley's forehead,
indenting his brow just above his nose. It only came when he was angry,
or intensely worried. His gray eyes gleamed with subdued resentment, and
for the space of a few steps he did not answer.
"We do not know," he said, then, but he kept his eyes set straight
ahead, instead of looking at his questioner.
"But you have suspicions, daddy, dear," she pleaded, coming closer to
him, and pressing his arm gently. "Have you a right--have you the wish
to keep these from me? Am I not Major Dudley's daughter, and is not your
blood my blood? The Prince has been very sick. Corn and hay don't make a
horse ill. What do you fear, daddy?"
The old man stopped and faced his daughter. She was quite serious now.
Her firm chin, her positive but pliant mouth, her deep brown eyes which
showed courage, and the waving wealth of her chestnut hair, all made a
quick pride rush to the Major's heart, and brought a satisfied smile to
his mouth. His stern eyes melted into tenderness and love.
"My child, you shall know all I know; all I suspect, rather, for nothing
is positive. We--Peter and I--fear an attempt has been made to poison
The Prince."
"_Daddy!_"
The word struggled through an indrawn breath of horror.
"The horse's symptoms indicated this. Peter found him in time for an
antidote which he administered to be beneficial, else I fear we would
have lost him. We examined the feed which had been given him last
night, and found some of it mixed with a whitish powder. In view of this
we could come to only one conclusion."
"Who--"
The sentence which the girl's lips started to frame died with the first
word. Her lips met firmly, and a slow dread gathered in her eyes.
From the highway not far off came the sound of a horse's hoofs, running
at full speed. The Major was facing the road, and the girl turned to see
a horseman dash furiously along the pike and disappear behind a fringe
of trees which bordered the road farther on. Julia turned to her father,
and saw written plainly upon his face a confirmation of her fears.
"He?" she breathed, awesomely.
"Or an emissary. He is our only enemy, and in all his stable of
thoroughbreds he has not one that can approach The Prince!"
"Would he dare?"
"Anything, little girl.--Come."
At the door of The Prince's stall they stopped, and looked in eagerly.
The horse recognized them, and whinnied feebly. Peter, with curry-comb
and brush, was going over the splendid animal vigorously, though not a
speck showed on his shining coat.
"Better, suh! Better, young missus!"
The old negro spoke encouragingly between the grunts caused by his
exertion.
"He am beginnin' to tek notice. He et mos' he feed, 'n' he 'peared right
glad to see me. I wush I c'd lay dese brack han's on de low-down skunk
whut tech 'im! I'd break his naik!"
The Prince was standing a little stiffly, and his slender, patrician
head hung lower than it should, but his breathing was not labored, and
his eyes were bright and beaming with intelligence.
"He'll come, Peter; he'll come!" said the Major, warmly. "He had a close
call, but your prompt action saved him. You're a good boy, Peter, and I
commend you!"
Peter grinned his appreciation, and rubbed the satin limbs with renewed
vigour.
"Yassuh, he'll come all right, 'n' w'en de race hit come, he'll beat
eb'ry one ob 'em! De hoss ain't folded whut kin tech 'im!"
"I believe you, boy. Only once in a lifetime is a hoss born like The
Prince."
Julia slipped into the stall as her father was speaking and going up to
the noble brute, put both arms around his neck and cuddled her check
upon his shoulder.
"Poor old fellow!" she murmured. "Have they used you badly because you
belonged to us? Never mind. They shan't do it again. Miss Julia loves
you, and all of us love you, and we are going to take care of you."
The horse turned and muzzled the sleeve of her dress understandingly.
The girl withdrew her arms and stroked his nose gently. As she rejoined
her father there were tears in her eyes.
"Put a new padlock on his door tonight, Peter," cautioned the Major, as
he turned to go, "and see that there are no loose planks which a
sneakin' assassin might prize off."
"I'll fix 'im so tight dat a gnat can't git in!" was the emphatic reply.
"Dey shan't git nigh 'im ag'in!"
Julia was quiet as she and her father returned to the big house. Though
her tongue was idle, her mind was busy. She was trying to elucidate this
mystery of the attack on The Prince. Her father had said in as many
words that he believed Devil Marston was at the bottom of it, but why
should Devil Marston be so bitter against them? Half forgotten incidents
came back to her--things which had been glozed over or dismissed with a
laugh. Marston had been at their home several times, but all at once he
stopped coming. She remembered it now. The last time he came was at
night, and she had seen him only long enough to speak to him in the hall
as she was starting upstairs. She recalled now some loud words being
spoken by him; the regulated tones of her father in reply, and that
night the Major had paced his room till nearly morning. When she asked
for an explanation the following day, her father had put her off by
saying it was purely a business matter which it was best she should not
know about. She had let it go at that at the time, although she wondered
that a business call should have been so stormy. Now she realized that
something was being kept from her; that her father was shielding her
through love and mercy from something she had a right to know. That had
been in her girlhood, though only two years ago. But since then her
mother had died, and during the following two years, which had brought
her to twenty, she felt that she had grown to be a woman. She had met
successfully the responsibility of caring for the house, and she felt
that she could equally meet any other responsibility touching her
family.
As they passed into the long hall again, the Major laid aside his hat
and turned to the open library door to resume his reading. Julia gently
detained him.
"Daddy, what's the trouble between Mr. Marston and us?"
The old man's face grew very grave.
"Who spoke of trouble, lassie?"
"Would a friend attempt so vile a thing as was attempted last night? He
has grounds for his conduct, or thinks he has. I want to know it all.
I'm sure you never harmed any of his, or him. Then why does the man hate
us? He must be very wicked, for no honorable enemy would employ such
underhand methods of attack. Now tell me all about it, won't you?"
Major Dudley tilted her chin with his bent forefinger, and gazed long
and earnestly into the fearless eyes upheld to meet his own.
"There are some things little girls shouldn't know," he said, finally.
"Little girls, indeed!" she exclaimed, almost petulantly. "Won't you
ever realize that I'm a woman, though a young one, and can't you trust
your only daughter with a family secret, daddy dear?"
It was quite evident that her feelings were on the verge of being
wounded, for her lips were a little unsteady, and her eyes were
reproachful.
The reply came in a soft, reminiscent voice.
"'Twas yesterday you were in pinafores, chasing butterflies by day and
fire-flies by night, out yonder on the lawn. Are you really _twenty_?"
"Yes, sir; and I demand it as my right to share your burdens. They will
be lighter so, for us both."
The Major sighed, and lifted his hand to his forehead.
"You are right, and I promise that you shall know. But not now--not
now."
"In a day or two, then?"
"Yes, in a day or two. Run along now and gather some flowers."
He bent to receive her kiss, and stood watching her as she moved with a
free, swift step out onto the portico, into the yard, and over to a side
fence where a mass of nasturtiums were rioting in a wealth of variegated
colors.
"That is where her life should be," he murmured to himself; "spent among
blooming flowers, listening to the birds, caressed by sun and wind. Now
she demands of me the story of Devil Marston's hate, and I have to tell
her. Why do innocent children have to grow up and taste of bitterness?
Why must she know of man's inhumanity, injustice and greed? O my little
Julia, I would keep you from every thorn if I could! This old breast
would gladly take all that were meant for you, and not mind the sting!
But that is not God's way, and His way is best. Poor child! I wish it
could be otherwise."
He passed slowly into the library, and sat down with his book.
After the frugal evening meal, which Aunt Frances, Peter's spouse,
served with due punctiliousness, the Major sought his room, pleading
fatigue. Really he sat alone, thinking, for a long time before going to
bed. It was past ten o'clock when he finally arose, and going to a south
window, looked out in the direction of the stable. The night was
star-lit only, so he did not see a stealthy figure climb the rail fence
enclosing the barn lot, and move swiftly across the intervening space to
The Prince's door.