THE REVENGE.
Early the next morning Pitt and his daughter drove to town with
Warren. The promise of government seeds had greatly excited the old
fellow, and, three times before the breaking of day, did he get up and
look out, impatient of the darkness that still lay in the east. Warren
gave him the seeds and had gone down to see them off for home before
he happened to realize that Lyman was not in the office. He went up
stairs and inquired after him. The boy said that he had not come. He
sat down in a fear that his friend was lost in the woods, and was
thinking of setting out to look for him when Lyman walked in, looking
worn and tired.
"Why, what's the matter?" Warren cried. "You look like a whipped
rooster."
"I am," said Lyman sitting down. "A prop has been knocked from under
me and I have fallen down. For several days I have been nursing a
sweet revenge. I said nothing about it, but I was going to knock a
man down, tie him and horse-whip him."
"Well, why don't you? Is he gone?"
"Yes, beyond my reach. I thought that for once in my life I would act
the part of a very natural man, but it has been denied me. I will tell
you."
He narrated his adventure. Warren sat staring at him. "It's just your
luck, Lyman. But, why didn't you throw him back into the creek? Why
didn't you stamp him into the ground? And you have spoiled another
piece of news. What do you expect will become of you if you keep on
this way?"
"He mistook me for some one else--he called me Jim. I couldn't abuse
his drunken mistake and show him that I was not his friend Jim. It
would have been cruel. And when he recognized me he threw himself on
my mercy and begged me not to leave him. In a vague way, this morning,
he remembered all that had taken place. He is not much hurt, but the
doctor will keep him in bed for a day or two. He is completely cowed
and I felt sorry for him. He hung to my hand when I bade him good-bye
and tears ran out of his eyes. He declared that I had whipped him more
severely than if I had used a raw-hide, and I believe I have; so,
after all, I had my revenge."
"Lyman, I guess your sort of punishment lasts longer. But I confess
that I am not strong enough to indulge that sort of revenge. It takes
too much time. Well, if you haven't turned things over since you came
to this place I don't want a cent. Old Ebenezer didn't know what
novelty was until you struck it. We had a great time last night," he
went on, after a few moments of silence. "Nancy sang a song, a
come-all-ye about a girl that hanged herself because she had cause to
think that a fellow didn't love her. And you bet she can sing. She
brought tears to my eyes, and a woman has to get up early and sing
with the birds before she can do that."
"Did you find out how you stand?" Lyman inquired, smiling at him.
"Oh, yes; that's settled. I know how I stand, and now I've got to find
out how she stands. It takes time, I tell you. I don't want to hurry
her, so I thought I'd wait till tomorrow and go out there and ask her
about it."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't hurry her," said Lyman, laughing. "I'd wait till
noon-time tomorrow, anyway."
"Yes, along about there. What are you laughing at me for? This thing
is serious with me. I went out with her this morning to milk the cows.
Talk about milking." He leaned back and shut his eyes as if to
reproduce the scene. "I don't want to draw any comparisons, old
fellow, but do you suppose Miss Eva could milk? Do you suppose she
could grab a calf and make him feel ashamed of himself?"
"I don't know as to her handling of calves, I'm sure; but I know that
she can throw a light into dark places; that white clover springs up
where she walks; that if she were to sit asleep in a garden the bees
would fight over the sweetness of her lips; that her mind is as fresh,
as full of bright images as a stream of pure water; that her foot as I
saw it upon a rock has grace enough to redeem an awkward world; and
that in comparison with the notes of her voice all earthly music is
flat and dull."
"Lyman, I guess you know where you stand. But have you found out where
she stands? Have you asked her to define her position?"
"Her position defines itself. I am to protect her from the man whose
life I saved last night."
"Yes, I know, but after you have protected her--what then?"
"I am to present her with a certificate of freedom."
"But don't you suppose she'd rather have a partnership than freedom?"
"Not with me. I am something of a novelty to her as a protector, but I
am afraid that to propose a closer relationship would make me appear
commonplace enough."
"Well, you know your own business, and it's not worth while to give
you advice; but you are a strange sort of a contradiction. As a
general thing a fellow that's easy with man is severe with woman, but
you are disposed to let them all get away. They don't get away from
me, I'll give you a pointer on that. By the way, here's a package that
I found here for you. Came by express, pre-paid, mind you. Think of
that."
In Lyman's eyes there was the soft light of a sad victory as he opened
the package and displayed a dozen copies of his novel, fresh from the
publisher. He took a volume upon his knee, as if it were a child; he
opened the leaves, carefully separating them as if tenderly parting
curly hair. Warren snatched up a book with a cry of delight; he swore
that its fame was assured; he knew that it would sell as fast as it
came from the press; but Lyman sat in silence, his eyes growing
sadder. It was so small a thing to have cost so many anxious days and
nights. He had worked on it so intently that often when he had stepped
out, the real world seemed unreal; and now it appeared so simple as to
lie within the range of any man's ability. Here was a place where
there had been a kink, and he had worried with it day after day,
carrying the sentences about in his mind; and now at a glance he saw
where the wording might have been improved. He was afraid that he had
been too simple, too close to the soil; in seeking the natural he was
almost sure that he had found the tiresome. He got up.
"Where are you going?" Warren asked.
"Oh, out somewhere, to get away from this poor hunch-back." He smiled
sadly at the book.
"Hunch-back? Why, it's a giant. Look, here's a jolt like a wagon
running over a root. It's all right. And I want to take one out to
Nancy, and when she reflects that a friend of mine wrote it, her
position will be defined. She can't help it. It makes no difference
whether a woman can read or not, a book catches her. Ain't you going
to send one to Miss Eva?"
"Yes, I believe I will."
"Well, scribble in one and I'll send it right now, by the boy. It's
not right to let such things get cold. Is that all?" he asked when
Lyman had written his name on the fly leaf.
"Yes, that's enough."
"It may do for her, but I want you to spread out a whole page for
Nancy. Say, go and lie down. You look like a ghost--going up and down
the creek at night, pulling fellows out. But wait. Give Nancy's book a
whirl first."
Lyman covered the fly-leaf with a memory of Mt. Zion. With brightening
eyes Warren read the lines. "This will fetch her," he said. "She can't
hold out against it. Let me see. I don't know but the old man ought to
have one. It would stimulate him mightily. But never mind. The seeds
are enough for him. It won't do to stimulate him too much at once."
"Old boy," said Lyman, "I admire your enterprise, it is a bright
picture, but don't go out there so soon. Wait at least a week. If she
finds that you are too anxious it might prejudice her against you."
"I don't know but you are right. I'll send the book anyway. But say,
she's got a cousin Jerry and I don't like that very much. I never saw
a fellow named Jerry that wasn't dangerous. But if you say wait, I
will."
"I say wait."
"All right, then wait it is, but I don't like that Jerry idea. What
sounds more devilish than 'Cousin Jerry.' Sort of an insinuating,
raspberry jam sound. But I'll wait. Go on and lie down."