COUSIN MARIA.
After posting one of his men on each side of the house, which stood on
the edge of a field, without any fence around it, Tony Kirk stepped up
to the front door and knocked. The door was quickly opened by a woman.
"Why, Cousin Maria," said Tony, "is this you?"
"Certainly it's me, Anthony," said the woman; "who else should it be?"
Cousin Maria was a tall woman, dressed in black. She had gray hair and
wore spectacles. She seemed very glad to see Tony, and shook hands with
him warmly.
"I didn't know you lived here," said Tony.
"Well, I don't live here, exactly," said Cousin Maria; "but come in and
sit awhile. You've been a-huntin', have you?"
"Well, yes," said Tony, "I am a-huntin'."
Without mentioning that he had some friends outside, Tony went in and
sat down to talk with Cousin Maria. The man in front of the house had
stepped to one side when the door opened, and the others were out of
sight, of course.
Tony entered a small sitting-room, into which the front door opened, and
took a seat by Cousin Maria.
"You see," said she, "old Billy Simpson let this house fur a hundred
dollars--there's eighty acres with it--to Sarah Ann Hemphill and her
husband; and he's gone to Richmond to git stock for a wheelwright's
shop. That's his trade, you know; and they're goin' to have the shop
over there in the wagon-house, that can be fixed up easy enough ef Sam
Hemphill chooses to work at it, which I don't believe he will; but he
_can_ work, ef he will, and this is just the place for a wheelwright's
shop, ef the right man goes into the business; and they sold their two
cows--keeping only the red-and-white heifer. I guess you remember that
heifer; they got her of old Joe Sanders, on the Creek. And they sold one
of their horses--the sorrel--and a mule; they hadn't no use fur 'em
here, fur the land's not worth much, and hasn't seen no guano nor
nothin' fur three or four years; and the money they got was enough to
start a mighty good cooper-shop, ef Sam don't spend it all, or most of
it, in Richmond, which I think he will; and of course, he being away,
Sarah Ann wanted to go to her mother's, and she got herself ready and
took them four children--and I pity the old lady, fur Sam's children
never had no bringin' up. I disremember how old Tommy is, but it isn't
over eight, and just as noisy as ef he wasn't the oldest. And so I come
here to take care of the place; but I can't stay no longer than Tuesday
fortnight, as I told Sarah Ann, fur I've got to go to Betsey Cropper's
then to help her with her spinnin'; and there's my own things--seven
pounds of wool to spin fur Truly Mattherses people, besides two bushel
baskets, easy, of carpet-rags to sew, and I want 'em done by the time
Miss Jane gits her loom empty, or I'll git no weavin' done this year,
and what do you think? I've had another visitor to-day, and your comin'
right afterwards kind o' struck me as mighty queer, both bein' Akeville
people, so to speak tho' it's been a long day since he's been there, and
you'll never guess who it was, fur it was George Mason."
And she stopped and wiped her face with her calico apron.
"So George Mason was here, was he?" said Tony. "Where is he now?"
"Oh! he's gone," replied Cousin Maria. "It wasn't more 'n ten or fifteen
minutes before you came in, and he was a-sittin' here talking about ole
times--he's rougher than he was, guess he didn't learn no good down
there in Mississippi--when all ov a sudden he got up an' took his hat
and walked off. Well, that was jist like George Mason. He never had much
manners, and would always just as soon go off without biddin' a body
good-by as not."
"You didn't notice which way he went, did you?" asked Tony.
"Yes, I did," said Cousin Maria; "he went out o' the back door, and
along the edge of the woods, and he was soon out of sight, fur George
has got long legs, as you well know; and the last I saw of him was just
out there by that fence. And if there isn't Jim Anderson! Come in, Jim;
what are you doin' standin' out there?"
So she went to the window to call Jim Anderson, and Tony stepped to the
door and whistled for the other men, so that when Cousin Maria came to
the door she saw not only Jim Anderson, but Thomas Campbell and Captain
Bob Winters and Doctor Price's son Brinsley.
"Well, upon my word an' honor!" said Cousin Maria, lifting up both her
hands.
"Come along, boys," said Tony, starting off toward the woods. "We've got
no time to lose. Good-by, Cousin Maria."
"Good-by, Cousin Maria," said each of the other men, as the party
hurried away.
Cousin Maria did not answer a word. She sat right down on the door-step
and took off her spectacles. She rubbed them with her apron, and then
put them on again. But there was no mistake. There were the men. If she
had seen four ghosts she could not have been more astonished.
Tony did not for a moment doubt Cousin Maria's word when she told him
that George Mason had gone away. She never told a lie. The only trouble
with her was that she told too much truth.
In about an hour and a half the five men returned to the place where
they had left their horses. They had found no trace of George Mason.
When they reached the clump of trees, there were no horses there!
They looked at each other with blank faces!
"He's got our horses!" said Jim Anderson, when his consternation allowed
him to speak.
"Yes," said Tony, "and sarved us right. We oughter left one man here to
take care uv 'em, knowin' George Mason as we do.'
"I had an idea," said Dr. Price's son Brinsley, "that we should have
done something of that kind."
"Idees ain't no good," said Tony with a grunt, as he marched off toward
the blacksmith's shop at Jordan's cross-roads.
The blacksmith had seen nothing of Mason or the horses, but Tom Riley's
horse was still there; and as the members of the party were all well
known to the blacksmith, he allowed them to take the animal to its
owner. So the five men rode the one horse back to Akeville; not all
riding at once, but one at a time.