"SETTIN' ON THE FENCE"--THE SHIFTY SPECTRE
"Admiral 's I sum-sit-up," collector of road-taxes, a title cheerfully
accorded him through the genial courtesy of the Basin, came down from
the Point.
In the distance we could hear him approaching as usual, the passionless
monotone of his voice growing ever nearer and more distinct, as he
flapped methodically first one rein, then the other, over the unhurried
action of his horse, sagely admonishing him to "G'long! ye old fool!
Git up! ye old skate!"
His mortal conversation, too, though cutting and profound, was, in the
deepest sense, without rancor or emotion.
"'S I sums it up," said he, "yer road down through the woods 's gittin'
more ridick'lous 'n ever."
"Poo! poo! Wouldn't be afraid to bet ye she ain't," said Captain Pharo
Kobbe, with glowing pipe.
"Ye seem to boast yerselves 't ye don't belong to nothin' down here,"
continued the admiral; "but ye does. Ye belongs to a shyer town. Ye
orter have some pride. 'S I sums it up, be you goin' to pay yer rates,
or work 'em out mendin' yer roads?"
"I've noticed pretty darned well 't I don't belong to no town, only
when it comes to votin' some on ye into offis' up there and payin'
taxes," said one of the Basin group--Captain Dan Kirtland, Vesty's
father. "I ain't a-goin' to pay no rates, nor work 'em out on no roads
neither. When I goes I goes by boat, 'n' I didn't see, when I was out
pollockin' this mornin', but what the water 's jest as smooth as she
ever was!"
A low murmur of sympathetic laughter ran through the group.
"I goes by boat--when I goes," said Captain Leezur benignantly. "She
_is_ smoother, sartin she is. But some, ye know, 's never sartisfied.
Some neow 's all'as shiftin' a chaw o' tobackker----"
"Comparin' of the road with the water," said Captain Rafe, father of
Fluke and Gurdon, "I permits it to ye all that thar' ain't that
steadiness about the land that thar' is about the water. Thar 's a
kind o' a weaviness and onsartainty about the land."
"'S I sums it up," said the imperturbable collector, grave pipe of
expired ashes in mouth, "thar 's some bottom to the water, but it 's
purty nigh fell out o' yer roads down here. Ye're a disgrace to a
shyer town."
Loud and unoffended laughter from the group.
"I permits 't thar 's some advantages about the land," continued
Captain Rafe. "I wants ter go out and shute me a mess o' coots once in
a while, and ketch me a mess o' brook-trout, but as for tinkerin' over
the roads--why, that artis' that was down here three months las'
summer, paintin' a couple o' Leezur's sheep eatin' rock-weed off'n a
nubble, said 't our roads was picturusque. You don't suppose I'm goin'
around a-shorin' up and sp'ilin' the picturusque, do ye?"
Inextinguishable laughter from the group. At this juncture Captain
Shamgar came up with his cows.
"Ain't ye drivin' yer cows home ruther early, Shamgar? Sun 's
a-p'intin' 'bout tew in the arternoon."
"Wal, yes, but I got through cuttin' weir-stays, and thought 's the
cows was over there, I'd take 'em along home with me. Save goin' back
arter 'em by 'n' by, ye know."
Captain Shamgar disposed himself on the fence, and the cows fell to
browsing in the lane.
"Got your road-tax ready for the adm'r'l, Shamgar?"
"Sartin, sartin," said that individual, firmly and permanently
buttressing his cowhide boots between the rails; "charge 'er to the
town pump, and take 'er out o' the handle!"
Uproarious laughter.
"You'd orter see the roads in Californy," said a dark spectre with
shifty eyes on the outskirts of the group.
"Gold, ain't they, Pershal?"
"No, no," said the spectre modestly; "jest common silver-leavin's.
Arfter they've made silver dollars they scrape up all the cornder
pieces and leavin's, and heave 'em out into the road. They wears down
smooth in a little while--and shine? Wal----"
"Speakin' o' coots," firmly interposed Captain Dan Kirtland, "onct when
I was cruisin' to Boston, I seen a lot o' coots hangin' up thar' in the
market 't looked as though they'd been hangin' thar' ever senct before
Adam cut his eye-teeth. 'How long be you goin' to keep them coots?'
says I. 'Coots!' says he; 'them's converse-back ducks.'
'Converse-back ducks!' says I; 'them 's coots,' says I, 'and they're
gittin' to be _old_ coots too,' says I. 'You come from Maine, I guess,
don't ye?' says he. 'Never mind whether I come from Maine or whether I
come from Jaffy,' says I, 'I come from sech a quarter of this 'arth as
whar' coots is jest _coots_,' says I."
"Ye'd orter see the coots in Californy," wailed the voice of the shifty
spectre on the outskirts.
"Kind o' resemblin' cows in size, ain't they, Pershal?"
"No, no; the biggest I ever seen was the size o' Shamgar's tom-turkey;
but plenty? Wal----"
"Speakin' o' Jaffy," said Captain Leezur; "somebody was tellin' me 't
they'd heered how 't Lot's wife--she that was turned into a pillar o'
salt, ye know----"
"Ye'd orter see the hunks o' salt in Californy!" moaned triumphantly
the spectre.
"Had got up and went!" joyfully concluded Captain Leezur.
"Wal, now, speakin' o' trout (I permits that they have termenjus trout
in Californy," wisely subjoined Captain Rafe), "larst Sunday I was
startin' for Shadder Brook with my pole and line, and I met this
noospaper man's wife, 't's boardin' up to Lunette's. She was chopped
down so small tow'ds the waist line, looked as ef, ef she sh'd happen
to get ketched in a nor'wester, she'd go clean in tew. Didn't bear no
more resemblance to your Vesty, Dan, than a hourglass on the shelf does
to the nateral strompin' figger o' womankind (I permits the women has
splendid figgers in Californy).
"'Wal,' says she to me, and sighs. 'I wish 't there was a chapel to
this place,' says she. 'I know,' says I; 'I've all'as said, ef they'd
start 'er up I'd contribbit to 'er--'s fur as my purse 'u'd allow.'"
Exhaustive laughter for some cause from the group.
"'Do you think it's right to go a-fishin' Sunday?' says she. 'No,
marm,' says I, 'not big fish, but little treouts?' says I; 'won't you
jest think it over, marm?' says I. And while she was thinkin' I kind
o' shied and sidled off, an' got away outer the ship's channel."
"Wal, thar' neow," said Captain Leezur, beaming with fond sympathy at
the heavens, "sech folks dew help to parss away the time, amazin'."
"'S I sums it up," said the impassively listening collector, "ef ye
don't pass away some o' yer time on yer roads down here, ye'll break
some o' yer d--d necks."
Renewed unresentful laughter from the group.
"Grarsshoppers, neow," said Captain Leezur, seriously and reflectively,
"makes better treoutin' bait 'n angle-worms (I know 't we don't have no
sech grarsshoppers nor angle-worms neither as they dew in Californy).
"Nason was over t'other day, helpin' me shingle my barn. 'Twas a
dreadful warm day, and we was takin' our noonin' arfter dinner, settin'
thar' on the log, 'nd there was a lot o' these 'ere little green
grarsshoppers hoppin' areound in the grarss: so arfter a spall, we
speared up some on 'em and----"
"'S I sums it up, ef ye want to stay here and ketch the last fish 't
God ever made, 'ste'd o' bracin' up and mendin' yer roads and takin'
yer part in a shyer town, ye must do so."
"Sho!" said Captain Leezur, regarding him with wistful compassion; "I
hain't seen as fish was gittin' skeerce."
By winks and insinuations of niggardliness, through Captain Rafe,
father of Fluke, he was moved to take a nervine lozenge out of his
pocket and display it temptingly before the sapient, immovable
countenance of the collector. The latter, cold pipe in mouth, solemnly
shook his head.
"They _dew_ come kind o' high, I know," said Captain Leezur, "but I'm
all'as willin' to sheer 'em with a friend. I ain't one o' that kind
that's all'as peerin' anxiously into the futur'."
"The furderest time 't I ever looked into the futur'," said Captain Dan
Kirtland, "was once when I was a boy 'bout nineteen, and my father told
me not to take the colt out. He was a stallion colt (I know 't we
don't have no sech colts here as they do in Californy), jest three
years and two months old, and sperrited--oh, no; I guess he wa'n't
sperrited none! Wal, my father was gone one day, and I tackled him up
and off I went. Might 'a' fetched up all right, but 't happened jest
as I was passin' by them smoke-houses to Herrinport, some boys 't was
playin' with a beef's blawder had hove her up onto the roof, and she
bounded down right atween that stallion's ears and eyes. In jest about
one second I looked so far into the futur' that I run my nose two
inches into the 'arth, and she 's been broke ever since."
"Never mind, Kirtland, she 's all thar'. The furderest time 't I ever
looked ahead," said the voice of Shamgar, "was once in war time. Flour
fifteen dollars a barrel, seven girls and five boys (I know 't we don't
raise no sech families here as they do in Californy), everything high.
All to once the thought come to me, 'Mebbe herrin'll be high tew.' And
sure enough herrin' was high!"
"The furderest time 't I ever looked ahead----" deliciously began
Captain Leezur.
"G'long! ye old fool! Git up! ye old skate!"
Admiral 'S I Sums-it-up was turning his horse about.
"I believe you and me 's got a bet on, ain't we, adm'r'l?" said Captain
Pharo.
"I told 'em 'twas wastin' waggin ile to come down here to c'lect.
G'long! ye old fool! Git up! ye old skate! 'S I sums it up, bet ye,
goin' 'tween here and the Point I could scrape twenty-five pound o' mud
off 'n yer kerridge time ye gits thar', Kobbe. G'long! ye old fool!
Git up! ye old skate!"
His unbaffled monotone grew gradually faint in the distance.
"Roads _be_ all porridge up there a piece, I reckon," chuckled Captain
Pharo; "but as long as Crooked River runs, I don't calk'late to lose no
bet. Poo! poo!"
[Illustration: Music fragment: 'My days are as the grass, Or as--']
"Jest give me time," beamed Captain Leezur, sounding mellifluously,
"'n' I can row any Pointer ashore in an argyment 't ever was born yit.
I takes a moderate little spall to dew it in. Forced-to-go----"
"Ye be a lazy, yarn-reelin' set, all on ye," said Captain Rafe,
grinning with affection and delight on the group. "I'm going to have
ye all posted and put on the teown!"
Murmurs of rich and deep laughter.
A tall, dark form, shifty-eyed, had been insensibly moving and
disintegrating me from the group. I found myself drifting strangely
ever farther and farther away. I was sitting beside him on a rock in
the covert of the woods, the sun setting over the bay, and all was
still save his voice.
"I went to Californy minding" (mining), said he. "She ain't nothin' so
wonderful of a State as you might think: she ain't no bigger 'n Maine
'n' New York and Alabamy, 'n' Afriky 'n' Bar Harbor all put into one!"
"Great heavens!" said I, scratching my feeble little cane into the
earth, "is she that?"
Of all that had been denied him in the recent general conversation, of
colossal hunks of salt, of grasshoppers "no larger than Dorking hens,"
of fishes, women, horses fabulous, I listened, rapt with wonder and
admiration.
The sun went down, the moon arose, and still I listened. I was not
weary, I was not hungry; I was absorbed in sincere and awful attention.
But the world is callous and cold, and I shall not repeat those tales.
The world is callous and cold; but, as the shifty spectre at last
pointed me, unwilling, homeward, he murmured, with tears in his eyes:
"I never found sech an intellergent listener as you be--not in the
whole length and breadth of Californy."