WILD MEN, BABOONS, AND SOMETHING STRANGE
The shadows of night had fallen when the three wanderers, Jensie, Johnny,
and Ballard in their car came to a gliding stop before the Blue Moon.
The door stood half open. A mellow glow of light shone at their feet as
they hopped out. From within came the murmur of voices and low laughter.
“The old Blue Moon is still doing fine,” Johnny smiled happily. “Come on
in and have a snack.”
No sooner had the door framed their faces than a voice shouted: “Here’s
Old Kentucky! Kentucky and that mountain gal. Come on, Old Kentucky, give
us a tune.”
At once the crowd, composed of all the team and many of their friends,
was on its feet and cheering huskily.
Seizing his companions, Johnny pushed them to the front. Picking up
Jensie as if she were a sack of sugar, he set her down on the counter,
then thrust a banjo in her hands as he whispered, “Do your durndest.
Nothing could be better than this.” She flashed him an understanding
smile. Then, after motioning Ballard to a place by her side, she began
thrumming the chords, and “Old Kentucky Home” came whispering through the
room.
Greeted by abundant applause, the two young Kentuckians played and sang
their way through a half score of melodious mountain tunes into the very
hearts of their listeners.
Then, of a sudden, Jensie struck her banjo a thwack. She ran her fingers
across the strings to begin “Roll, Jordan, Roll! Roll, Jordan, Roll! Oh!
Oh! Oh! I want to go there, to hear old Jordan roll.”
Instantly every boy and girl in the room was on his feet and singing. How
the rafters of the old Blue Moon rang.
Song followed song. Quaint, beautiful, melodious negro minstrels that
fitted the closing of the Sabbath day, they filled the minds of happy,
carefree youth with a mellow joy that is experienced oh, so seldom, in a
long, long life.
“They’re a wonderful bunch,” Johnny said huskily as he helped Jensie into
the car an hour later. “A wonderful, wonderful bunch of fellows. Next
Saturday they will go out on the field and romp all over it to the tune
of a dozen touchdowns. And already, thank God, they’ve forgotten
Kentucky’s blunder that cost them a game.”
“Old Kentucky will be the hero of the hour next Saturday, you’ll see,”
Jensie exulted. “Kentucky! My Kentucky forever!”
That night Johnny sat long musing beside the fire. Surely there were
matters enough to occupy his thoughts. Kentucky was back. These mountain
people had a way of winning their way into people’s hearts. He was glad
of that. But what of the games that were to come? Could this mountain boy
control his hot temper when things went wrong? He wondered and shuddered
a little.
He thought of the bear and laughed. The bear was dead all right. He had
told Lige Fields about that explosion in the cave. Lige was short of
fresh meat. To a Kentucky mountain man, nothing is better than a good
juicy bear steak. He had found the bear with his head blown clean off.
“Powerful stuff, liquid air and carbon,” the boy said to himself. He had
some of the bear steak in his car. They’d have it for dinner in the back
room of the Blue Moon tomorrow. He’d invite Coach Dizney and a few of the
boys.
He thought of Old Mose and his mule, thought too of the “ornery no-count”
Blinkey Bill who planned to beat Mose out of his coal mine.
“He said we might fix up a little bolt of lightning out of the blue,”
Johnny murmured. He was thinking now of Donald Day. Queer sort of fellow,
Donald was, mighty fine too. He wondered how a fellow’d go about
manufacturing a “bolt from the blue.” He’d like to be around when it
happened, would too if it were possible. He could steal away down there
in the middle of the week. Artie Stark would manage the Blue Moon in his
absence. Plenty of boys needed work.
Another thing he meant to look into. He wanted to visit that young
aviator down there in the Kentucky valley. What kind of a motor could he
be building? Johnny was interested in all sorts of mechanical
contraptions. He had once owned a car that ran on dust, just ordinary
coal dust.
“Couldn’t be that,” he whispered to himself. “Couldn’t—”
Johnny was growing drowsy. But now, of a sudden, he was wide awake. The
latch clicked. There came the sound of shuffling feet. Johnny caught
sight of a shadowy figure.
“Pant,” he called. “Panther Eye, is that you?”
“Yes, Johnny,” the strange fellow’s voice was low. “Yes, it’s me. But
don’t talk so loud Johnny, not quite so loud.”
As on those other occasions, Johnny prepared a small feast for his
wandering friend. Tonight, instead of talking, he sat silently watching
until the last bite was gone. Then he said quite suddenly:
“Did he find you?” Johnny eyed Pant eagerly.
“Who find me?” Pant stared.
“Have you forgotten?” Johnny asked in surprise. “The shadow. That giant
with a hooked nose.”
“Did you see it?” It was Pant’s turn to be surprised.
“I’ll say I saw it. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it now.”
“No-o,” Pant said slowly, “he hasn’t found me, not—not yet.”
Pant dropped into a chair. At once his face became a mask. Only the gleam
of his curious pink eyes, told that he was alive. Johnny knew the meaning
of this, Pant, like a turtle, had withdrawn into his shell. Johnny
settled into his place to take up a pencil and begin tracing geometric
figures on a square of paper.
Pant was first to break the long silence that followed. When he did speak
it was as if the many hours that had passed since their last meeting had
not been.
“You’ll be surprised, Johnny,” he said as an amused smile played about
the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps you won’t believe what I tell you—but
I’ve got to finish that thing I was telling you.”
“Go on,” Johnny urged.
“Well, we went into that cave, that mysterious girl that may have been
white. I don’t know about that—
“We hadn’t been in there ten minutes when we heard a shuffling sound by
the cave’s entrance and what do you think?” Pant paused to stare at a
spot on the wall. “What could you expect? Almost anything. What was it
but that troop of giant baboons!” Once again Pant paused.
Involuntarily Johnny allowed his eyes to stray to the window shade. No
shadow there tonight. Even the tree branches were still.
“Well, sir,” Pant gave vent to a low chuckle, “there we were, that girl
and I crowded way back in the cave. And there were the baboons. They came
shuffling in, like thirty or forty boys playing hooky from school. And
silent! Say! I didn’t suppose any wild creature except maybe a tiger
could be that quiet.
“The girl was scared. Plumb scared to death. As she crowded close to me,
I could feel her heart beat madly like it might burst. Surprised me that
did, because these natives all know a baboon won’t hurt you. Made me
think she was all white. Suppose she was, Johnny?”
“Don’t you know? Didn’t you find out?” Johnny asked in surprise.
“No—I—but where was I?” Pant broke off. “Oh, yes! That wasn’t all, not
half, Johnny. You won’t believe it but I’m going to tell you just the
same. The baboons hadn’t much more than got good and settled, when there
came another quick shuffle outside the cave and in popped—who do you
think?” Pant drew in a quick breath. “That whole band of wild men.”
“Must have been a large cave.”
“It was!” Pant exclaimed. “But not big enough for all that outfit, anyway
not if that something strange that was after them decided to come in too.
“Well,” Pant went on after a pause, “the strange thing didn’t come.
Perhaps there wasn’t anything strange. Maybe these wild fellows just
imagined it. But there were baboons and wild men and that girl and
I—which was a whole lot too many. The baboons kept crowding back, back,
back, until one big fellow was square against my side and that girl
between me and the rocky wall of the cave. And all the time that bunch of
huge baboons, scared stiff by the wild men, who are always hunting them,
crowding more and more until I was sure we’d be crushed.
“Something had to be done, Johnny, and I did it. I had a short hunting
knife in my belt. Getting a good grip on it I lifted it high to bring it
down square between that nearest baboon’s shoulder blades. And then—”
Pant broke off to indulge in a prolonged reminiscent chuckle.
“Come on,” Johnny urged, “you’ll see that shadow again.”
“No, I—well—to tell the truth, Johnny, there’s little left to tell. That
baboon let out a most terrific roar. After that there was noise, dust and
confusion. That lasted three full minutes I guess, and after that,
believe it or not, they were gone, baboons, wild men, and all. That cave
was as silent as a tomb.
“I was sorry about that baboon,” Pant went on after a moment. “I never
like to hurt any living creature. But what else could I do?”
“N—nothing,” Johnny shook himself. Had he been listening to a fairy story
or a real adventure?
“We waited an hour, that girl and I,” Pant continued in a matter-of-fact
tone. “After that we crept out into the bright sunlight. We looked about.
There was no one to be seen, not even a baboon. You better believe me we
got out of there quick.
“Well—” Pant stretched his long legs, “I found that river again. Then I
knew where I was.”
“And the girl?” Johnny breathed softly.
“She had no idea where we were. And I feel quite sure—” Pant paused to
consider, “yes, I’m certain she had no idea what I was up to. She
followed me as she might have followed that big man with a hooked nose,
had he given her the chance, followed because there was nothing else to
do.
“I kept getting more and more signs. A fallen tree, a particular cluster
of hanging vines I’d noticed before, a tumble-down native hut, all these
told me I was on the right track.
“Just a little before sunset, I came to a spot I was sure of. It was not
a hundred yards from that clearing, the picture clearing, you know.”
“Yes, the pasture, the cattle, the gem of a cottage,” Johnny
supplemented.
“And the girl lost out of it,” Pant broke in. “I was going to put her
back into the picture. I DID put her back,” there was a note of triumph
in Pant’s voice. “I stopped dead in my tracks, pushed the girl on before
me, then pointed straight ahead.
“At first she did not seem to understand, just stood there staring. In
the end, I’m sure she only half understood, for she seemed to go
reluctantly.
“I watched her until she was ready to part the branches that were to give
her a glimpse of home, then I ducked.
“I can hide, Johnny, hide anywhere, always could. It’s a gift. I wasn’t a
minute too soon, for I was scarcely under cover when she let out a
scream.”
“A scream?”
“Sure! One wild scream of pure joy. She had seen her home. Probably up to
that moment, she had never hoped to see it again. Who wouldn’t scream?
“Then,” Pant indulged in a broad grin, “what do you suppose she did after
that?”
“Went down through the jungle like a scared rabbit,” suggested Johnny.
“No. You’re wrong,” Pant heaved a sigh. “She stood there for a moment.
Then she turned and started back. Looking for me—wouldn’t you say?”
“Sure would.”
“But she didn’t find me,” Pant added dryly. “You bet she didn’t. I can
hide, you know that, Johnny. That’s one time I did a good job of hiding.”
“Why?” Johnny stared.
“Well, you know, Johnny,” Pant replied slowly, “you can never tell what a
lady will do when she discovers quite suddenly that you’ve done her a
very good turn. You can’t now, can you, Johnny?”
“No, you can’t,” Johnny laughed. “You really can not. I’ve known them to
throw their arms about their benefactor and—”
“Kiss him,” Pant made a face. “And that, Johnny, would have been
horrible!”
“I don’t know,” Johnny said slowly. “That’s purely a matter of taste.
Anyway, you were not quite fair to her. You had saved her from slavery,
worse than death. You didn’t even give her a chance to thank you.”
“I thought of that, Johnny. Went back to the edge of the clearing the
very next day. Had some notion of showing myself. But I didn’t—” Pant
broke off abruptly.
“Why?”
“The picture was there, Johnny, pasture, cattle, house and even the girl.
There was one slight change. A man sat before the cabin, a tall, thin man
in a white suit. Across his knees lay a long-barreled rifle. How that
barrel did gleam in the sun! So-o, Johnny, I didn’t go down.”
“He wasn’t looking for you.”
“Probably not. But people do sometimes make mistakes. And really, it
didn’t matter.”
This was one time when Pant was mistaken, more mistaken than he could
imagine. It did matter. It mattered a great deal.
“Well, I’ll be going, Johnny,” Pant stood up.
“What’s the hurry, Pant? No shadows tonight!”
“There might be, Johnny, you never can tell. Good-night, Johnny.” He was
gone.
“The shadow of a glorious past,” Johnny murmured low.