A QUICK FUSE
Days of restlessness followed that drive to the chapel. Brent said one
afternoon in desperation that they were so heavy and oppressive he was
actually creaking under them;--and Uncle Zack, after watching him
critically as he walked away, shook his head in doubt whether he could
hear anything or not. But the work went stubbornly on, in spite of the
dull gnawing which made it, and reform--and life, indeed--seem
meaningless. With this grew another worry, shared more deeply by the
Colonel, as time brought no hint of Tusk's fate. Both men were beginning
to believe that he had crawled back in some ravine and died, but neither
would voice so dismal a suggestion.
It was the Fourth of July. In order to dispel some of the gloom, the
Colonel had issued a proclamation calling both families to assemble
there upon the lawn at four of the clock, to celebrate, in a sane or
insane manner, the patriotic day. To Dale, Bip and Aunt Timmie this
brought much excitement. The feelings of Miss Liz were also stirred, but
rather with a solemn thrill of reverence for her departed heroes.
Boy-like, the old gentleman had sat up late the previous night checking
off an assortment of fireworks especially ordered from the city, and not
infrequently examining with pleasurable interest some new pyrotechnic
fountain or bomb. But these were for the grand evening display. The
afternoon was to be given principally to oratory. Bip, however, should
fire a few crackers, and Dale had yielded to Brent's request to
demonstrate the mountain people's skill at rifle shooting. Tales of
their prowess, the engineer had declared, were more wonderful than
believable.
The Colonel had just beaten him at another game of chess, and they were
now leaning back in their chairs weary from the exertion, for it had
been a long and difficult struggle, when gradually the murmur of excited
voices floated in to them. One of these was ponderous and irascible,
while the other possessed the fire of youth. As the disputants neared
the gate both men looked up with understanding smiles. Then presently
the rickety buggy creaked into view, with Aunt Timmie giving angry tugs
at the reins but in no wise stimulating her old mule. On his pony, Bip
rode.
She had awakened that morning in a direful mood on account of being
entrusted the evening before with a package of fire crackers, each of
which, she indignantly told Bob, would put out the little boy's eyes in
no time! All during the drive to Arden she had been shaking her head and
murmuring her intention of burying them in the creek;--a calamity which
Bip was resisting with every argument in his power. They were too hotly
engaged in this to notice the silently amused men, and wended their way
to the stables, the voices becoming fainter but not losing their
strident tones.
As the hour of festivities approached, it was more than curiosity which
dragged Dale from the library. The proclamation said that he would hear
oratory of the good and stirring kind--the kind of which he had read in
the days of Lincoln and Clay. There would be something to learn, and,
but for this, the lure of his books might have held him fast. Now,
tremendously interested, he was sitting on the top porch step, with his
long rifle upright between his knees. This was merely for his own part
in the celebration when he intended to satisfy the doubting Brent.
A great deal of badinage accompanied the festivity. Bob acted as master
of ceremonies, the Colonel and Brent were pledged to orations, while the
three ladies and Mac constituted the vast throng of spellbound
onlookers. Bip, having for the moment forgotten his fire crackers, was
dancing with delighted anticipation. Zack was teeming with
mirth--abetted, no doubt, by a heel-tap or two from the Colonel's
retiring goblet. Seated in a half circle on the grass were clustered the
pickaninnies and their grinning forebears. All was ready, and over the
scene Miss Liz smiled with placid contentment. It was fitting, she had
more than once this day averred, for them to turn their minds
patriotward.
Bob now stepped out and introduced the first great feature: "Bip,
the Bouncing Buster of Boozicks and the Fearless Firer of
Fireworks, with the admirable assistance of that adaptable and adamant
Timorous-are-ye-poor-mortal-worms, will twist the tail of the tawny
lion and break the barbarous bandetta of benighted Britain!" This being
announced in one sentence, Bob promptly collapsed amidst cheers from the
porch and high squeaks from the darker circle--with the one exception of
Aunt Timmie. For Zack had maliciously whispered: "He done call you
a-dam-ant"--and, indeed, she had heard it with her own ears. A picture
of outraged dignity now, she stalked grandly away. It took ten minutes
to get the celebration once more in running order, and Aunt Timmie
brought to a better understanding.
The little boy advanced into the circle, placed a fire cracker in the
grass, and lit it. But, with the first sputtering of its fuse, the old
negress clasped him to her breast and rushed out of harm's way. It was
not an exhibition of which a Fearless Firer might have been proud, nor
did the screams of laughter greeting it serve to palliate his anger. But
it was neither fun nor anger with Aunt Timmie. Her mind was a torment of
fear lest he be maimed for life. Since early morning she had employed
every art, every diplomatic ruse in which her race is so proficient, to
avoid this dangerous pastime. Now suddenly, and without warning, she
stopped in a startled attitude of thought until all eyes were turned on
her, then sat upon the lowest step and broke into uncontrollable spasms
of mirth. Tears ran down her furrowed cheeks, and the oak step, that had
not these four generations yielded to the weight of Mays, creaked
beneath this onslaught of convulsive avoirdupois.
"Lawd," she finally gasped. "Dis heah fracas jest 'mind me of sumfin ole
fool Zack done one time!"
Uncle Zack screwed his face into a network of interrogating wrinkles and
furtively watched her. He was not yet sure whether to be amused or
offended.
"Marse John," she looked up, "does you 'member dat time he wuz deacon of
de new chu'ch, an' busted up de niggers' faith wid Sapry's weddin'
cake?"
It must have brought something to the Colonel's mind, for he began to
chuckle.
"Sapry wuz a yaller gal of de Cunnel's, who'se 'ngaged to mahry a dude
nigger on Mister Lige Dudley's place, turr side of town. Nuthin' 'ud do
but Zack must perform dat cer'mony--him jest bein' 'lected haid deacon
of de new chu'ch what had its meetin's under a big sycamoh tree down by
de crick. Dey called it a Foh Day Baptis' Chu'ch--dat is, fer foh days
you'se a Baptis', an' de rest de week you'se nuthin' 't all. Ole Zack
wuz crazy 'bout it; in fac', he wuz de prime mover, cyarrin' on most of
his op'rations durin' dem las' three days. Well, de Cunnel give us one
of de out-buildin's fer dis heah weddin', an' I'd done made de cake--I'd
done made two cakes, but de second wuz fer Miss Ann's bu'fday; she bein'
'bout six, or sich a matter. All de niggers seen how purty 'twuz wid de
candles on it what Marse John done got in de city; an' de dude nigger
seen it, too. So what'd he do but slip Zack a piece of money, an' tell
him to git some of dem candles fer _his_ cake. Den Zack stole out on a
mule, an' rid to town;--an' now i'se gwine tell you how he busted up dat
chu'ch!"
She began again to laugh, and the Colonel, wiping tears from his eyes,
merrily cried:
"It's the truth, every word of it!"
"Dem wuz de days when de stoh at Buckville never had nuthin' less'n a
hund'ed yeahs old," she continued, "--dat is, 'cept when it come down by
mistake; an' it jest happen dat dis heah wuz one of dem mistakes. Ole
Zack walked in an' axed fer red, yaller, green an' blue candles, an' all
at onct a light come in de stoh-keeper's face. 'Why, bress mah soul,' he
say, 'some of dem come down yisterday wid anurr order,' he say. 'Dey's
marked Roman candles,' he say, 'an' de bill says foh colors,' he say.
But, 'course, dat don' mean nuthin' to him or Zack.
"Den de weddin' night come on. Zack wuz so stuck on hisse'f wid a
swaller-tail coat what didn' fit, an' Bible what he couldn' read, dar
warn't no gittin' nigh 'im. He go in whar de tables wuz, an' fix dese
heah candles on de cake, jest lak he seen 'em on li'l Miss Ann's.
'How-cum dey's bigger?' de dude nigger axed. '_You'se_ bigger, ain'
you?' Zack say, an' he walk 'way. Den ole Zack come out 'gin, bowin'
hisse'f an' scrapin' his foots to de gals lak he's done lost what li'l
sense he ever had. De niggers all prance in de doh, an' stand 'round de
table, 'spressin' deyse'ves so proud of dem candles on sich a purty
cake. Ole Zack stand at de haid an' say: 'Mah bruddern an' sistern, dis
am a 'mentous 'ccasion! I'se gwine to clasp in de th'oes of matermony
dis heah couple, but 'foh I does we'll pernounce grace, takin' our tex'
from dat po'tion of de Scripture whar Liza rid out de doh in a charity
of fyah! Light de candles, bruddern!' So dey all struck matches, jest
lak one man, an' lit dem candles!
"Lawd help us!" Aunt Timmie threw her apron over her face. "If Miss Liza
done rid out de doh in a charity of fyah, she suttenly change her min'
an' rid back in agin! Dem candles begin to sizzle an' spit up sparks,
an' shoot up balls of terror dat bust 'ginst de ceilin' an' come
down--kersplash! all over us! De niggers stood lak a passel of sheep fer
a minit--'twarn't as long as dat--den someun yell 'Witches!' An' dey
charge fer de doh, an' when de doh git choked up dey charge fer de
winder, an' when de winder git choked up--but I ain' got de heart to
recall dat turr'ble night!"
"Did it really happen, Colonel?" Brent cried.
"Every word of it, sir," the old gentleman chuckled. "The rascals burned
down my out building, and I believe the groom did not come back, at
all."
"Dat's de truff," Aunt Timmie declared. "An' poh Sapry run clar in de
crick! Dey foun' her standin' waist deep, yellin' an' fightin' off
lightnin'-bugs lak dey's gwine set her on fyah. An' it all come from
foolin' wid dese heah pop-cracks! I knows!" Then persuasively she
whispered to the little boy: "Come 'long, now, honey--let's me an' you
set down heah nice, an' see de ole folks cut up!" This time she
accomplished it.
When Bob introduced "the Sharpshooter of Sunlight Patch," another great
burst of good natured applause went up; although Brent and the Colonel
could not help exchanging glances. It seemed such an impertinence,
following upon his other performance with this same rifle; but he had
apparently given this no thought, and now stepped out, flushed and
determined. About his shoulders swung a bullet pouch and powder horn. He
loaded the piece, carefully cutting a patch for the ball; then from his
waistcoat pocket drew forth a small tin box of percussion caps, fitted
one of these, and was ready.
Assisted by Bob, who improvised all manner of moving targets, he made
hit after hit with a sureness provoking cries of admiration. Quickly
challenged, he clipped the tip of a feather from the wing of an
over-flying crow; and to show it were no accident he repeated this on
another speeding bird. A dime tossed into the air was whirled through
space, and a plum sent bounding over the ground was shattered. Brent and
the old gentleman exchanged another glance and slowly shook their heads,
for it seemed there could be no hope for Tusk before so deadly an aim.
The marvel was how he had been able to crawl away.
With this last, and most perfect shot, Bob declared he had fairly won
the world's championship, and presented him with a huge bouquet. The
mountaineer flushed with a strange gripping pleasure, looking quickly at
Jane who smiled proudly back at him. But there was another surprise to
come. Uncle Zack stalked forth with a new high-power rifle like the one
Dale had so feverishly admired in the Colonel's possession; and Bob,
presenting it, said:
"A token, in admiration of your skill, from Goethals the younger: Mr.
McElroy!"
If this were a surprise to the porch audience, it almost overcame the
blushing Dale, who grasped it, ran his eyes along its sights, and then
looked in a bewildered, happy fashion again at Jane. She was
smiling--and with a rarely sweet expression--but not at the Sharpshooter
of Sunlight Patch. The direction of her eyes suggested the necessity of
politeness, and he started across the circle toward Brent, when the air
was rent by a sharp explosion.
Everyone was frozen to an instant silence, alert for that cry which so
often follows sounds of violence. True enough, from the direction of the
cabins, came a long, plaintive wail of distress.
The Colonel and his friends sprang up with shocked faces and hurried
back. But before them were the negroes, now gathered in helpless,
awe-struck groups about a small boy lying in the path. It was little
Mesmie, and a glance at her arms, the shattered, still smoking fragments
of a giant cracker, told the pitiful story of inexperience, a quick
fuse, irreparable horror.
As gently as the child's mother would have done, had she been alive to
view this pitiable sight, Brent stooped and lifted her. The Colonel
motioned toward her father's cabin a few yards off, and there the
procession wended its solemn way. Someone went after Bradford, while
Jane hurried to telephone for Doctor Stone, and in less than ten minutes
his runabout was chugging out the pike at its top speed of fifteen good
miles an hour.
It was a curious sight when the noisy little machine dashed between the
old classic gate posts, beneath the low swinging wild-grape vines, and
around the silent tanbark circle to the Colonel's secluded home. It was
the only thing, indeed, which had been able to check the sobs of Bip
for his injured playmate.
To the mutual indignation of the Colonel and Bradford, Doctor Stone sent
them quickly from the room, keeping Jane and Timmie to help him with the
dressings. Later Jane came out and sat with Ann.
As evening approached, Arden grew deathly still beneath the sadness
which had thrust its fangs into the joyous day; the heavy, sickening
sadness which comes more poignantly to those whose gaieties have been
shocked by tragedy. Silently, and with murmured injunctions to keep them
advised, Bob's household took its way homeward, leaving Aunt Timmie to
nurse the little sufferer. Miss Liz had offered to do this, and so had
Jane and Ann, but the old woman indignantly waved them aside.
"What d' you-all know 'bout nussin'?" she had asked, with a fine degree
of scorn.
But the true reason was that Bip loved Mesmie, and this gave Mesmie a
claim upon Aunt Timmie's love.