I
The cold gray light of early dawn had given place to saffron, and the
first drowsy challenge from the henroost had been shrilly answered
from far and near, when old man Jerry awoke from his nap in the
chimney corner, and, finding himself chilled through all his old,
rheumatic bones, bent over the dying embers, pushed together the
blackened and half-burned "chunks," and blew them until they glowed.
Then, hitching his stool close into the ashes, he spread his horny
palms to the blaze, and basked in its genial warmth as it crackled up
the wide chimney. Reaching his pipe from its nook, he filled it,
dipped it skillfully in the coals so as to ignite without wasting the
precious weed, and drew a long whiff by way of a start; then, bending
still closer to the blaze, he pulled away, now and then rubbing his
shins in slow content, as though to emphasize his comfort.
All things, though, must come to an end. The "chunks" became a heap of
white ashes, the pipe was finished, and broad shafts of light stealing
down the chimney and under the door told "Ung Jerry" that it was time
to be stirring.
He had, according to his usual custom, risen from his bed long before
cockcrow, and, having cooked and eaten his "morning bread," had
unlatched his door in order to throw a morsel to his old hog-hound,
"Drive," who had already crept from under the house, and stood wagging
his stump of a tail in eager expectancy. The morsel being thrown, the
old man had cast a knowing look towards the heavens, and, judging by
the seven stars that it yet lacked an hour to dawn, had returned to
the smoky warmth and comfort of his hovel, where, seated in the
chimney nook, he had nodded till roused by the crowings from all the
neighboring henroosts--for his cabin was one of many.
The pipe being smoked, Ung Jerry rose stiffly, and, shuffling to his
bed, fumbled underneath it, and, taking care not to disturb the
setting hen, brought out two bits of old blanket, with which he
proceeded to wrap his feet before putting on his shoes.[2]
The hog-horn was now slung over the old coat, a bucket of cold
victuals was reached from the shelf, and the old hog-feeder, equipped
for his day's work, lifted the latch, and, stepping out into the sharp
frostiness of the November morning, plodded with heavy steps toward
the barnyard, Drive following closely at his heels.
The frosty fields were glittering in the slant rays of the newly risen
sun, and sounds of busy life came floating through the crisp air,
telling the old man that the day's labor had begun. The sharp crack
of the teamster's whip told that the great ox wagons were already
afield. The plow-boys whistled as they led out their mules; men and
short-skirted, heavily shod women went trooping to the cotton fields;
the milkwomen stepped briskly by, with the foaming pails balanced upon
their well-poised heads. Then came the cowboys, with noisy whoop,
driving before them the crowding, clumsy, sweet-breathed herd, while,
fearlessly amid all, pigeons fluttered, greedily picking up the refuse
grain, heedless of the hoofs among which they pecked and fluttered.
One small, grizzled mule, of great age and much cunning, had contrived
to slip into the feedroom, and was there enjoying a stolen bait of
oats when Ung Jerry found her.
"You 'speck I wan't gwine fine you, I reckon, but you 'se wrong dis
time," he said, taking her by one of the long ears and leading her off
to the barnyard, where the little cart awaited her.
Drive, meanwhile, had crept under the barn, where, nosing about, he
had come upon a hen's nest, and was feasting upon the warm, fresh
eggs.
The hitching-up was done with great deliberation. Ung Jerry plodded to
and from the harness-room many times, bringing out first a chuck
collar, then a bit of leather, finally, after a long search, an end of
rope. At length, when all seemed to be adjusted, the old man again
retired to the harness-room, where he remained so long that Drive was
contemplating another raid upon the hens, when he reappeared, bringing
with him an old piece of bagging, with which he proceeded with careful
adjustment to protect the old mule's back from the friction of the
cart-saddle. She, meanwhile, had stood with closed eyes and flopped
ears, immovable save for an occasional twitching of her small,
rat-like tail; but when the loading began, her manner changed from its
quiescent indifference; watchful glances followed each basketful that
was dumped in, and an ominous backing of the ears gave warning of what
would happen should the load be heavier than she liked.
At length, all being ready for the start, Ung Jerry climbed slowly to
his perch on the cart's edge, gave a jerk to the rope bridle, and
Rachel moved off, closely followed by Drive, who, conscious of
egg-sucking and fearful of its consequences, had prudently ensconced
himself beneath the cart, from whence he eyed, suspiciously, all
passers-by.
Slowly the little cart crept along the narrow plantation lanes, crept
past the level cornfields and into the wide pasture, where sunburnt
mares were grazing with their wild-eyed, unkempt colts; crept past the
marsh, where the heron, disturbed in her solitary vigil, rose upon
silent wing and sought some more secluded haunt amid the dim recesses
of the swamp.
Turning at length into the forest, where the gray moss hanging from
the trees almost obscured the deep blue autumnal sky, the cart slowly
creaked through the rustling leaves until it came upon a cross fence
which barred the way. Here, as Rachel came to a full stop, Ung Jerry
awoke from his nap, descended from his perch, and, unslinging his
horn, blew one long blast.
One was enough. In a moment the deep stillness of the forest was
broken by the pattering of many little feet; from the thickets the
hogs came; each hurrying with might and main to be foremost, they
rushed, grunting, squealing, crowding to the fence, where, standing
with upturned faces and small covetous eyes, they awaited the feast of
golden grain which the old man hastened to scatter amongst them. Then,
leaning upon the fence, he noted each greedy grunter as he wriggled
his small tail in keenest enjoyment and cracked the sweet corn.
No need was there to count; to the hog-feeder each animal possessed an
individuality so marked that in all the drove the absence of the most
insignificant was at once detected. So now, as he leaned upon the
fence, he cast anxious glances into the dimness beyond. Evidently some
were missing.
Drive, too, divining his master's thoughts, stood with look intent and
anxious yelp, impatient for the search to begin.