UNCLE JABEZ HAS TWO OPINIONS
Dr. Davison came, found that Jerry's leg was not broken, left liniment,
some quieting medicine to use if the patient could not sleep, and went
away. Still Uncle Jabez had not returned from town.
Dinner had been a farce. Ben, the hired man, was fed as usual; but Ruth
and Aunt Alvirah did not feel like eating; and, considering his fever, it
was just as well, the doctor said, if the patient did not eat until later.
Jerry Sheming was a fellow of infinite pluck. The pain he had endured
during his rough ride in the automobile must have been terrific. Yet he
was only ashamed, now, that he had fainted.
"First time I ever heard of a Sheming fainting--or yet a Tilton, Miss," he
told Ruth.
"I don't believe you belong near here?" suggested Ruth, who sat beside
him, for he seemed restless. "I don't remember hearing either of those
names around the Red Mill."
"No. I--I lived away west of here," replied Jerry, slowly. "Oh, a long
ways."
"Not as far as Montana? That is where Jane Ann comes from."
"The girl I helped through the car window?" he asked, quickly.
"Yes. Miss Hicks."
"I did not mean really West," he said. "But it's quite some miles. I had
been walking two days--and I'm some walker," he added, with a smile.
"Looking for work, you said?" questioned Ruth, diffident about showing her
interest in the young fellow, yet deeply curious.
"Yes. I've got to support myself some way."
"Haven't you any folks at all, Mr. Jerry?"
"I ain't a 'mister,'" said the youth. "I'm not so much older than you and
your friends."
"You seem a lot older," laughed Ruth, tossing back her hair.
"That's because I have been working most of my life--and I guess livin' in
the woods all the time makes a chap seem old."
"And you've lived in the woods?"
"With my uncle. I can't remember anybody else belongin' to me--not very
well. Pete Tilton is _his_ name. He's been a guide and hunter all his
life. And of late years he got so queer--before they took him away----"
"Took him away?" interrupted Ruth, "What do you mean by that?"
"Why, I'll tell you," said Jerry, slowly. "He got wild towards the last.
It was something about his money and papers that he lost. He kep' 'em in a
box somewhere. There was a landslide at the west end of the island."
"The island? What island?"
"Cliff Island. That's where we lived. Uncle Pete said he owned half the
island, but Rufe Blent cheated him out of it. That's what made him so
savage with Blent, and he come pretty near killin' him. At least, Blent
told it that way.
"So they took poor Uncle Pete into court, and they said he wasn't safe to
be at large, and sent him to the county asylum. Then--well, there wasn't
no manner o' use my stayin' around there. Rufe Blent warned me off the
island. So I started out to hunt a job."
The details were rather vague, but Ruth felt a little diffident about
asking for further particulars. Besides, it was not long before Uncle
Jabez came home.
"What do ye reckon your Aunt Alvirah keeps that spare room for?" demanded
the old miller, with his usual growl, when Ruth explained about Jerry.
"For to put up tramps?"
"Oh, Uncle! he isn't just a _tramp_!"
"I'd like to know what ye call it, Niece Ruth?" grumbled Uncle Jabez.
"Think how he saved Jane Ann! That car was rolling right down the
embankment. He pulled her through the window and almost the next moment
the car slid the rest of the way to the bottom, and lots of people--people
in the chairs next to her--were badly hurt. Oh, Uncle! he saved her life,
perhaps."
"That ain't makin' it any dif'rent," declared Uncle Jabez. "He's a tramp
and nobody knows anything about him. Why didn't Davison send him to the
hospital? The doc's allus mixin' us up with waifs an' strays. He's got
more cheek than a houn' pup----"
"Now, Jabez!" cried the little old lady, who had been bending over the
stove. "Don't ye make yourself out wuss nor you be. That poor boy ain't
doin' no harm to the bed."
"Makin' you more work, Alviry."
"What am I good for if it ain't to work?" she demanded, quite fiercely.
"When I can't work I want ye sh'd take me back to the poor farm where ye
got me--an' where I'd been these last 'leven years if it hadn't been for
your charity that you're so 'fraid folks will suspect----"
"Charity!" broke in Uncle Jabez. "Ha! Yes! a fat lot of charity I've
showed you, Alviry Boggs. I reckon I've got my money's wuth out o' you
back an' bones."
The old woman stood as straight as she could and looked at the grim miller
with shining eyes. Ruth thought her face really beautiful as she smiled
and said, wagging her head at the gray-faced man:
"Oh, Jabez Potter! Jabez Potter! Nobody'll know till you're in your coffin
jest how much good you've done in this world'--on the sly! An' you'll let
this pore boy rest an' git well here before he has to go out an' hunt a
job for hisself. For my pretty, here, tells me he ain't got no home nor no
friends."
"Uh-huh!" grunted Uncle Jabez, and stumped away to the mill, fairly beaten
for the time.
"He grumbles and grunts," observed Aunt Alvirah, shaking her head as she
turned to her work again. "But out o' sight he's re'lly gettin'
tender-hearted, Ruthie. An' I b'lieve you showed him how a lot. Oh, my
back! and oh, my bones!"
Before supper time a man on horseback came to the mill and cried a warning
to the miller and his family: "Look out for your stables and pigpens.
There's three beasts loose from those wrecked menagerie cars at the
crossing, Jabez."
"Mercy on us! They ain't bound this way, are they?" demanded Uncle Jabez,
with more anxiety than he usually showed.
"Nobody knows. You know, the piece of woods yonder is thick. The menagerie
men lost them an hour ago. A big black panther--an ugly brute--and a lion
and lioness. Them last two they say is as tame as kittens. But excuse me!
I'd ruther trust the kittens," said the neighbor. Then he dug his heels in
the sides of his horse and started off to bear the news to other residents
along the road that followed this bank of the Lumano River.
Jabez shouted for Ben to hurry through his supper, and they closed the
mill tight while the womenfolk tried to close all the shutters on the
first floor of the cottage. But the "blinds" had not been closed on the
east side of the house since they were painted the previous spring. Aunt
Alviry was the kind of housekeeper who favored the morning sun and it
always streamed into the windows of the guest room.
When they tried to close the outside shutters of those windows, one had a
broken hinge that the painters had said nothing about. The heavy blind
fell to the ground.
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Ruth, running back into the house. "That old
panther could jump right into that room where Jerry is. But if we keep a
bright light in there all night, I guess he won't--if he comes this way at
all."
It was foolish, of course, to fear the coming of the marauding animal
from the shattered circus car. Probably, Ruth told herself before the
evening was half over, "Rival's Circus and Menagerie" had moved on with
all its beasts.
Uncle Jabez, however, got down the double-barreled shotgun, cleaned and
oiled it, and slipped in two cartridges loaded with big shot.
"I ain't aimin' to lose my pigs if I can help it," he said.
As the evening dragged by, they all forgot the panther scare. Jerry had
fallen asleep after supper without recourse to the medicine Dr. Davison
had left. As usual, Uncle Jabez was poring over his daybook and counting
the cash in the japanned money box.
Ruth was deep in her text books. One does forget so much between June and
September! Aunt Alvirah was busily sewing some ruffled garment for "her
pretty."
Suddenly a quick, stern voice spoke out of the guest room down the hall.
"Quick! bring that gun!"
"Hul-_lo_!" murmured Uncle Jabez, looking up.
"That poor boy's delirious," declared Aunt Alvirah.
But Ruth jumped up and ran lightly to the room where Jerry Sheming lay.
"What _is_ it?" she gasped, peering at the flushed face that was raised
from the pillow.
"That cat!" muttered Jerry.
"Oh, you're dreaming!" declared Ruth, trying to laugh.
"I ain't lived in the woods for nothin'," snapped the young fellow. "I
never see that black panther in her native wilds, o' course; but I've
tracked other kinds o' cats. And one of the tribe is 'round here----There!
hear that?"
One of the horses in the stable squealed suddenly--a scream of fear. Then
a cow bellowed.
Uncle Jabez came with a rush, in his stocking feet, with the heavy shotgun
in his hand.
"What's up?" he demanded, hoarsely.
"I am!" exclaimed Jerry, swinging his legs out of bed, despite the pain it
caused him. "Put out that light, Miss Ruth."
Aunt Alvirah hobbled in, groaning, "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"
Uncle Jabez softly raised the sash where the blind was missing.
"I saw her eyes," gasped Jerry, much excited. He reached out a grasping
hand. "Gimme that gun, sir, unless you are a good shot. I don't often
miss."
"You take it," muttered Uncle Jabez, thrusting the gun into the young
fellow's hand. "My--my eyes ain't what they once was."
"Send the women folk back. If she leaps in at the winder----"
Suddenly he raised the gun to his shoulder. It was so dark in the room
they all saw the crouching creature on the lawn outside. It was headed for
the open window, and its eyes gleamed like yellow coals.
In a moment the gun spoke--one long tongue of flame, followed by the
other, flashed into the night. There was a yowl, a struggle on the grass
outside, and then----
"You're something of a shot, you be, young feller!" boomed out Jabez
Potter's rough voice. "I was some mistaken in you. Ah! it hurt ye, eh?"
and he proceeded to lift the suffering Jerry back into bed as tenderly as
he would have handled Ruth herself.
They did not go out to see the dead panther until daybreak. Then they
learned that the pair of lions had already been caught by their owners.