Your welcome letter came to hand today; glad you are all well
and hearty. I've had a big fuss with Palmer. I wanted to quit.
He coaxed me to stay and promised me fifty dollars a month. Is
that paper he holds on me binding? Could he hold my wages if he
wanted to. He told Gideon he was going to record the indenture
when we got to Leesburg and it would always stand in evidence
against me. He is not the kind of man Grandpap and Uncle Thomas
crack him up to be. If Palmer don't pay the fifty, I don't stay,
papers or no papers. He is gouging everybody and it is no sin to
gouge him. Say Pap, now don't get mad; how much did he set you
back? Tell me. If I get the fifty I think I can get yours. If
Cousin Charley has my hound he'll have to give it up when I get
home. If I get the fifty I'll buy me a new shotgun like Capt.
Abrams has.
My love to Muz and all the children and Lin.
Your affectionate son,
ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.
P. S. I am not afraid of Palmer; I could break him in two. But I
don't like to break the law. Let me know about the paper he
holds, he would do anything, law or no law.
* * * * *
Since Alfred's experience with the law in the Eli affair it could not be
said that he had more respect for the law but undoubtedly he had more
fear for it as evidenced by his letter to the father.
Things went on much the same with the panorama. Palmer was more polite
and condescending toward Alfred in speech, but many little
inconveniences were put upon him that he had not experienced previous to
the unpleasantness.
Jake seemed to have fallen under the displeasure of Palmer and many were
the squabbles between them. At one place where the panorama exhibited
the church was too small. An old carriage factory was used instead. At
one end there was a large freight lift elevator. Palmer's inventive
genius prompted him to use the platform of the elevator for a stage. It
was about twenty by thirty feet in dimensions much larger than the
stages usually constructed for the panorama. When the elevator was in
place it formed a part of the floor of the room.
Palmer and Jake labored all day and into the night to elevate it about
two feet above the floor. When elevated thus it was pronounced by the
little company the best stage since the season began; just high enough
to show the effects to best advantage.
Jake said he hoped "dey vould strike more blaces mit dings like dis."
The building of a platform or a stage in the various churches had made
strenuous work for Jake.
All was set for the unveiling of the wonderful work of art. The old
factory was crowded. All went smoothly until the scene where "Faithful"
is adjudged guilty and condemned to the terrible punishment supposed to
be meted out to him. This scene is not visible to the audience but is
described by the lecturer, as "Faithful" is supposed to be burned to
ashes after being scourged and pricked with knives. Palmer had just
concluded the speech: "Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 'Faithful', who, as soon as
his adversaries had dispatched him, was taken up into it, and
straightway, was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet."
Palmer sounded the trumpet. Tom White, in a long, white flowing robe,
with gauze veils over his face, is pulled up by a block and tackle, the
rope concealed by the long, white robe. With appropriate music this
scene was one of the most beautiful in the exhibition.
The trumpet sounded signaling "Faithful's" ascension. How what followed
happened no one will ever know. Palmer blamed Jake. Jake never admitted
or denied that he was the cause. When there should have been an
ascension there was a descension.
The elevator slipped a cog, or something; there was a slow, regular
descent, not too hasty. Down went the whole panorama, descending in time
with the music; down went the City of Vanity with its fair, its thieves
and fakirs painted on canvas, while poor "Faithful" dangled in mid-air.
As the elevator sank out of sight, as the characters, painting and frame
disappeared below the floor, the audience applauded approvingly at
first, then the absurdity of the scene struck them and approving
applause changed to aggravating laughter.
Jake stood manfully by the rope he was holding; Palmer was wild; Alfred
and Bedford Tom were doing all they could to suppress their laughter.
Suddenly the thing stopped, struck the floor in the room below. Jake,
grabbing the windlass, soon had the panorama slowly ascending. As it
came into view the audience applauded lustily. Mrs. Palmer kept the
ascension music going until the stage was back in its proper place when
Palmer, who was always seeking an opportunity to make a speech, walked
out in front of the curtain and explained that the panorama weighed
several tons, the great weight had broken the lift.
At this juncture Jake appeared with two heavy pieces of scantling;
unmindful of Palmer, he began spiking the props under the edge of the
platform. The strokes of the hammer completely drowned Palmer's voice.
When Jake sent the last nail home he arose from his knees with a "Dere,
tam you, I ges you'll holdt now."
Palmer was in a greater rage than at any time since the tour began. His
wife, Gideon and several others endeavored to pacify him. Everybody but
Alfred came in for a share of the abuse; even his poor wife, who was
really deserving of all praise for saving the scene, was more than
censured.
Alfred could not control his laughter; he fled fearing Palmer would turn
on him.
Palmer swore so loudly that Gideon came from the front to quiet him. He
swore at Gideon; he did not care if the whole town heard him curse. He
had worn his life out to produce the Pilgrim's Progress, and now a darn
clod-hopper, a Reuben, a gilly, a jay, had undone the work of a lifetime
and made him (Palmer) ridiculous in the eyes of the world. What would
people say? What would church people say? They would not pay him for
such an exhibition. Would he (Jake) furnish the money to pay the
expenses after ruining the business of the panorama?
Jake sat on a box, his eyes following Palmer as he walked from one side
of the platform to the other, busying himself all the while with some
part of the panorama, never looking toward Jake. Jake's smile was the
same, that is around the mouth; but looking more closely you could see
an expression in the deep-set blue eyes that betrayed feelings far
removed from those which cause smiles.
Palmer concluded his tirade by flinging a hammer on the floor and
declaring his belief that the mistakes were the result of a deliberate
attempt upon the part of the perpetrator to ruin him. "But I will not be
driven away from this work of my life by conspirators."
Jake had but a limited understanding of Palmer's language, yet
sufficient of what had been said sifted through his mind to convince him
that Palmer had made strong charges against him. Jake, in a tone of
voice that would have convinced anyone more reasonable than Palmer, of
his sorrow, inquired: "Vot I tid?"
"Vot I tid?" repeated Palmer, imitating Jake. "Vot I tid? Ha! Ha! What
didn't you do? From the night we opened it's been one round of breaks
and blunders upon your part."
Jake, in open-eyed surprise, repeated: "Breaks? Breaks? Breaks? Vot I
breaks?"
Palmer never ceased talking nor noticed Jake's questions. Pointing at
Jake, he said: "First you assumed the part of Christian, the most
important character to be impersonated. Every schoolboy or girl knows
the Christian makes a pilgrimage beginning at the City of Destruction,
from which he flees to the Celestial City. He carries a burden, of which
he is relieved at the proper time. He is supposed to encounter all sorts
of hardships and avoid pitfalls of danger, coming out triumphant at the
end of his journey. I ordered you to read the book. Alfred read it and
is familiar with every detail; you know nothing, positively nothing."
"Vot I tid?" again demanded Jake, a bit sternly.
"Vot you tid?" and Palmer pretended to tear his hair. "The first night,
the first scene, by holding the book you were supposed to be reading,
down by your knees, gaping at the audience like a baboon. You rolled
over on the floor in the Slough of Despond like a hog wallowing; you
throwed your burden in the Slough, then walked in the pond after it. The
pond you was supposed to be sinking into, drowning, you walked over it
as you would over a lawn or carpeted room, not sinking one inch in it.
You gathered up Christian's burden. Instead of replacing it on your back
you took it under your arm like a basket; instead of walking as you were
directed, towards the Wicket Gate, the Shining Light, you steered
straight into the bowels of Hell. Not being satisfied with going to Hell
yourself, you so arrange this lift, this platform that, at the very
climax of the most beautiful scene in the marvelous exhibition, you send
the whole panorama down to the lower story of the building, thus
conveying to the audience the idea that we are burlesquing Pilgrim's
Progress. Instead of steering for Heaven, steering for Hell! Bah! Every
last one in that audience will leave this building with the idea that
the entire panorama went to Hell."
Then in an injured, pleading tone, as if scared, Palmer continued: "If
this goes ahead of us it will surely ruin our business. I will sell my
interest in this show for one-half of what I'd taken yesterday." All
this was acting.
Poor Jake was completely confused, dumfounded. Most conscientious,
honest and sincere, without deceit, he scarcely knew what to say to
explain that he was unfortunate and all that had happened was
unavoidable.
He said: "Meester Balmur, I'm werry sorry dot I haf you so much troubles
made. I haf neffer toldt you dot I cud do vork as Alfredt und Tom. I
cannot speek me plain und I did yust so goot as I cud. I am sorry I
kan't exbress my, my, my feelings mit dis ting, but I hope you must
exkuse me."
Palmer interrupted: "Oh, well; it's gone beyond my patience to stand it
longer. You are an incumbrance, you are a barnacle. I'll sell you my
interest in this enterprise and you can go on and run it; this
partnership business don't suit me." Palmer ended it by saying: "I'll
see you in the morning."
The little party with the panorama were generally quartered with members
of the congregation of the church in which the panorama exhibited. In
making contracts with the various churches, Palmer, whenever possible,
made it a part of the agreement that his people and horses were to be
boarded. One family would take Palmer and his wife, another a couple of
the others. When Palmer paid their board they were quartered in the
meanest, cheapest taverns or boarding houses in the town. At times the
company would lodge in a house the owners of which were very poor people
who were sorely in need.
It seemed to Alfred the more needy a family appeared, the more insistent
Palmer was in forcing pictures, books, etc., upon them. It was a trick
of his to hang a picture in the best room, place books on the center
table. If they insisted that conditions would not permit enjoying the
luxury of the books or pictures, Palmer would become insulting and
complain of the quality or quantity of the food.
Alfred and Jake were both so thoroughly ashamed at times they would go
elsewhere for their meals.
It happened that, when the trouble came up between Jake and Palmer, the
entire party were quartered at a modest little tavern kept by a
Pennsylvania Dutchman of large girth and little patience. Palmer had
failed to induce him or his good wife, who did all the cooking, to buy
pictures or books. "Ve vant no more picturs und ve don't reat der
pooks," was the argument with which the old fellow met all of Palmer's
solicitations.
After one of their arguments, Palmer, as usual, lost his patience: "What
sort of humans are you? You belong to no church. Where are you bound
for? Like Jake--hell, I suppose." Then he laughed sarcastically.
"Vell, ve haf got along always in Frostburgh und hell can't be much
vorse und if you vant to sell picturs und pooks to pay fur your bordt,
you besser stop mit Con Lynch (referring to a rival tavern). Ve don't
keep travelers to kepp oudt of hell, ve keep bordters to keep oudt of
der poor house."
Palmer answered the old fellow's argument with a reply that he thought
humorous: "Well, if I'd thought there was a poorer house in town than
yours I'd stopped there."
"Vell, it's not too late, gitt oudt, tam you, pack up your pooks und
picturs und gitt oudt purty quick or I'll trow you oudt on der rote."
Palmer, his wife and Gideon, sought quarters at the other tavern; Jake
and Alfred remained.
The next day was one of unpleasantness. Palmer never permitted an
opportunity to pass that he did not cast slurs at all, Jake in
particular. It was evident that Palmer was imbibing more freely than
usual. He constantly drank whiskey; he was drinking to excess. Mrs.
Palmer cried almost constantly. Gideon was more nervous than usual. He
was at Palmer's side constantly; everywhere Palmer went Gideon followed.
Long and earnest talks were engaged in, Palmer always obstinate, Gideon
pleading. When Palmer left the place where the panorama was on
exhibition, Mrs. Palmer stood in or near the door gazing out wistfully
until he reappeared; then seat herself in the furthermost part of the
room from her husband seemingly desirous of keeping out of his sight.
Alfred finally inquired if he could do anything for her. In a few words
she gave him to understand that her husband was of a very excitable
nature at intervals, took to drink and continued it until he fell sick.
She begged Alfred to have Jake apologize and not to quarrel or cross the
man, no matter what provocation he gave them, all of which Alfred
promised her. Jake readily agreed to do anything she suggested.
Alfred and Jake retired to their room where Jake took Alfred into his
confidence, informing the boy of the circumstances that led to his
connection with the panorama. Palmer had an advertisement in a newspaper
offering flattering inducements to a man with six hundred dollars. Jake
read the advertisement. Palmer visited Jake in answer to his letter. His
smooth talk won the honest German. Palmer was very sorry that Jake had
not written sooner as he had about concluded a deal with a man in
Brownsville and before he could arrange with Jake he must go to
Brownsville, see the man and make some sort of an honorable arrangement
to relieve him of the promises made. He induced Jake to accompany him to
Brownsville. Hence the visit of Palmer and Jake to Alfred's home.
Afterwards Palmer informed Jake that he was compelled to pay Alfred's
father two hundred dollars to release him from their agreement. The
honest German was thereby convinced that the panorama was a good
investment. He persuaded his mother to borrow six hundred dollars, all
of which was turned over to Palmer. Jake's understanding was that he
was to be paid thirty dollars a week for his team services. Jake was to
have charge of all moneys received, the six hundred dollars was to be
repaid from profits of the venture. Jake had received to that date
forty-one dollars. Drawing a paper from an old fashioned leather purse,
passing it to Alfred: "Here iss der writing vot vill tell you how it all
iss."
Alfred read and re-read the paper which was in Palmer's handwriting. The
legal phraseology was somewhat confusing, but his deductions, were that
Jake was to receive thirty dollars a week for the use of the team and
his and Bedford Tom's services; that Jake was to handle the money; that
he, Jacob Wilson, was to retain six hundred dollars from the profits and
that, when the said six hundred dollars had been paid, the terms of the
contract had been complied with. Such was Alfred's understanding of the
contract.
He became convinced that Palmer had in some way defrauded, or intended
to defraud Jake. The fact that Palmer had repeatedly asserted that he
could get rid of Jake--he so informed Alfred when urging the son to
influence the father to take an interest in the panorama--caused Alfred
to feel sure that Jake was being tricked.
Respecting Mrs. Palmer's request and owing to Palmer's condition, Alfred
decided to keep the matter quiet for the present. Ending the interview
with Jake, he returned the paper to the German with the advice that,
when Palmer got off his spree, to take the matter up, have the contract
examined by a lawyer.
Although Jake was quiet and undemonstrative, he was no easy man to
control when aroused. His limited experience in business, his
unsophisticated nature naturally made him suspicious and there was not
an hour while he was awake that he did not seek Alfred to talk over the
possibilities of Palmer absolutely dropping him without returning any of
his money.
The night following that of the scene between Jake and Palmer, after a
day that saw Palmer in front of the bar of the tavern at least twenty
times, the second exhibition of the panorama began. It was the first
town wherein the exhibition failed to attract a larger audience the
second night than that which witnessed the first exhibition. The facts
were Palmer's condition was apparent to all with whom he came in
contact. The talk went over the town that one of the preachers with the
show was on a tear and the other one couldn't hold him down. The church
people held consultations and it was determined to cancel the third
night.
The second exhibition was even more ragged and uneven than the first
night. The lift, or platform, did not give way and carry the painted
pictures towards the lower regions; "Faithful" made the ascension as
scheduled; and the climaxes and tableaux were all more beautifully
presented than on the opening night. But the eloquent speeches were
delivered by Palmer in a thick-tongued voice; his pronunciation was so
imperfect that many of the most beautiful speeches were lost upon the
audience. Palmer did not complete his lecture.
All were nervous, all were laboring under great strain. The members of
the little party exerted themselves; not one made a mistake, not one
forgot a line.
But Palmer, the manager, the proprietor, he who should have been the
first in the work, Palmer was drunk, and the Pilgrim's Progress was
ruined, insofar as that town was concerned. Palmer had become frenzied
the night previous and cried over the excusable blunders of an honest
meaning man. Yet tonight he had ruined the entertainment, disgusted all
who heard him.
Palmer imagined the performance the most excellent yet given, he so
informed all. None had the heart to correct his bewildered imaginings.
When Gideon came back and informed him that the church officials would
have nothing further to do with the exhibition and that if it were put
on the next night they would announce to the town that they were in no
way responsible, he defied the church people, swore he would compel them
to comply with their contract, that he would show, (he always used the
word "show" when he was excited or drunk), the next night and several
nights thereafter. He left the scene for the tavern.
Jake and Alfred repaired to their lodgings. A long time after they had
retired, a timid rapping on the door aroused them. The door opened, and
Gideon and Mrs. Palmer were standing in the hall. The woman's face was
the picture of misery; Gideon was in a terrible state of mind.
Palmer had continued his debauch until he was frenzied. Both feared to
remain in the house with him; he had attempted to injure both of them.
Gideon implored Alfred and Jake to endeavor to calm him; at least,
prevent him drinking any more. Jake was loath to go. He had no fear of
Palmer but brooded over the abuse the man had heaped upon him--Bedford
Tom had fully explained and exaggerated all that Palmer had said and
that Jake did not comprehend at the time. Jake, after due deliberation,
decided in his mind that if Palmer ever abused him again, and Mrs.
Palmer was not near, Palmer would feel the weight of his hand. Therefore
Jake thought he had best not trust himself in Palmer's presence.
Loud words could be heard. Alfred trying the door, found it locked. The
landlord demanded to know who was there. Alfred informed him that he was
a friend of Palmer's and had come to look after him. He was admitted.
Palmer was singing a popular song of the day at the top of his voice,
the landlord endeavoring to quiet him. When Alfred caught a glimpse of
Palmer he could not resist laughing outright. The man was minus coat,
vest and outer shirt, his long, yellow neck, his sharp face with its
tuft of beard, the hooked nose, made his head appear like Punch on a
stick.
Catching sight of Alfred, Palmer extended his hand and began singing a
negro minstrel ditty, cake-walking around the boy several times, his
hand extended as if he were inviting the boy to join in his dance.
"Mr. Palmer! Mr. Palmer! It's very late. The folks in the house desire
to sleep. Come on with me; come on to your room," pleaded Alfred.
Palmer kept up his singing, keeping time with his feet. Jake appeared.
Palmer rushed toward him, threw his arms about him, embraced him,
calling him his only friend. "Stick to me, Jake, I'll do the right thing
by you. I know you're all right; I am ashamed of myself for cussing you.
But--never--mind. Come--on--Jake--come--on. Where's Gideon? I want to
give you $600.00. Come on Jake."
Jake held Palmer like a baby, pleading with him to go to bed. Palmer
swore he would not leave the room until the landlord gave him another
drink. Then he wanted all to drink with him. All declined. Then he
wanted to fight the whole crowd.
Alfred and Jake finally pushed and carried Palmer to his room. They
deposited him upon the bed and held him there by force until his senses
began to leave him. Sleep overcame him and, although he kept up a
twitching of the fingers and mutterings, he slept. Alfred and Jake both
fell asleep. When Alfred awoke, Palmer still slept. He tiptoed toward
Palmer and was more than startled to see Mrs. Palmer seated at the head
of the bed, where she had sat all night.
Gideon called the boy and Jake into a conference. It was Gideon's idea
that the party leave the town immediately, keep Palmer on the road away
from drink until he was completely sobered up. The panorama was
dismounted and loaded in the big wagon in less time than ever before.
Jake gave the word and they were on their way.
Palmer fretted and fumed the whole journey; Jake did not drive fast
enough to please him; he would walk, then ride a short distance; all
the while complaining and censuring first one, then another. Jake had
not traversed half the day's journey until he became convinced that
Palmer's effusive exhibitions of friendship the night previous were
prompted by the libations of which he had partaken.
Finally, donning hat and coat Palmer started at a pace so brisk that he
was soon a considerable distance in advance of the slow moving wagon.
Jake was thoroughly disgusted. At a little distance on he made excuse
the harness was broken, and halted the team at least half an hour. Jake,
like Alfred, concluded that Palmer would go a little ways and await
them.
When Jake resumed the journey he drove the team somewhat faster,
prompted to do so by the anxiety of the good woman, who sat by his side
straining her eyes, gazing ahead along the white, dusty way. The object
she looked for did not come into sight.
The shadows of night began to fall. Jake had the team going at a faster
pace than the big wagon had ever sped previously. All eyes looked down
the pike ahead of the team; all expected every minute to see Palmer on
the road ahead of them.
Gideon broke the painful silence: "Whoa! Whoa! Jake, pull the horses
up." Jake obeyed. All turned towards Gideon. "No man could keep ahead of
the team the rate we have been going. He couldn't keep ahead of us even
if he had run, let alone walked. If Palmer hasn't caught onto someone
who is traveling in a buggy or other light vehicle, he has laid down by
the roadside and fallen asleep and failed to hear us go by. I will go
back and look for him; it's only two miles further to town, you all go
on."
All hesitated. Jake then proposed that the wagon halt where it was and
all go back seeking Palmer. Jake, Alfred and Bedford Tom retracing their
steps, looking on each side of the road as they walked. Every person
they met was questioned, but none had noticed a man answering Palmer's
description. Inquiry was made at every farm house.
Finally a traveler on horseback informed the searchers that a man
answering the description of Palmer was seated on the driver's seat of
the stage coach going west.
The three retraced their steps and gave Gideon and the wife the
information gained. Driving into Hancock, Gideon, who was best informed
as to the lines of travel, decided he would take the train for
Cumberland and ascertain there as to whether Palmer had been a passenger
on the stage coach. Later in the evening news came that a stranger had
been discovered by the roadside dead. To attempt to describe the misery
of the wife would be impossible, and to aggravate the situation, to
still more deeply aggrieve the trouble laden woman, a letter came with
the news that one of their children was very ill at home.
Jake and Alfred mounted the horses and rode to the point where the dead
man was found. They arrived previous to the coroner; the body had not
been removed. It was a lonely place on the pike. Two or three country
folk stood near the fence, recounting for the tenth time the
circumstances attending the discovery of the body. The darkness, the
presence of death, were surroundings to which Alfred was not accustomed.
The body lay about twenty yards from the road under a big tree. As they
climbed the fence and faced towards the spot, a stench met their
nostrils. They looked at each other. Jake was the first to recover his
speech: "Phew! If dot's Bolmur, he iss spiled werry queek."
Alfred reclimbed the fence. Jake looked over the dead man and remarked:
"It don'dt look more like Bolmur as you do." Mounting their horses they
were soon back at the tavern. The wife gazed appealingly at them as they
entered, and, in a trembling voice, asked: "No news?"
"No, it vasn't him, he iss been dedt a veek or two." Jake spoke as if
disappointed that the dead man was not Palmer.
Later, Alfred was lying on the bed laughing, Jake, looking at him with a
smile which spoke inquisitiveness more plainly than he could have
articulated the word, inquired: "Vot you laffin at? You laff like a tam
fool. It makes me feel like a tam fool, too; I kan't tell but vot you
iss laffin at my back."
This only brought more laughter. Finally, Jake began laughing also. "I
see, you iss laffin becos I toldt Mrs Bolmur dot de dedt man vos
spildt."
"Why, Jake, the manner in which you gave the news to her sounded as if
we were disappointed that the dead man was not Palmer."
Jake arose, walked over to Alfred, his face assuming a serious aspect:
"It's a werry great bitty for der poor heart-broken-down woman dot it
was not Bolmur."
Gideon telegraphed from Cumberland that Palmer was there; that he would
arrive on the next train. Jake and Alfred had the panorama all set.
Night came on and neither Gideon nor Palmer had arrived. No train was
scheduled to arrive until midnight. Mrs. Palmer was too nervous, too ill
to give any advice or to even offer a suggestion.
"Could she play the music as usual if they went on with the exhibition?"
"Yes, she would get a cup of tea and be ready for her part of the work."
Alfred arranged with the son of one of the church members to take charge
of the financial end. Jake said he could do the part of Christian and he
was sure that he would not make any mistakes.
The church was crowded. Alfred had assured himself a thousand times that
he could go through the whole dialogue. He was correct but there was
quite a difference in the delivery of the impassioned speeches; the weak
voice of an amateurish schoolboy could not impress the auditors as would
that of an elocutionist with a deep musical voice.
The panorama did not give its usual satisfaction although Jake, to his
credit, went through his part without a mistake. But he did so in such
an awkward, halting way, that it seemed like anything but a character to
excite sympathy; in fact, his fall into the Slough of Despond was so
clumsy that he injured one of his knees. All the while he was rolling
about, supposed to be sinking, he was holding his knee in both hands and
crying: "By yimminy crickitts, Uh! Uh!"
People sitting near the platform were tittering and laughing.
Gideon and Palmer arrived sometime during the night. Gideon was up and
about early. He advised that Palmer would be all right by night.
Gideon appeared more ill at ease than Alfred had ever seen him. Back of
the scenes was Palmer so drunk he could barely articulate. He looked at
Jake and Alfred as they entered and said: "I--can't--work--tonight;
go--on--with--the--performance. I'm going--to--bed." With this he
stretched himself out on the floor. Jake and Alfred gathered him up and
laid him none too gently to one side of the stage.
Confusion or some evil spirit awakened Palmer. He walked out into the
auditorium. Sitting near his wife, he attracted the attention of many of
the audience by giving orders, not only to his wife but in one or two
instances he shouted at Alfred. This so completely unnerved the wife
that she actually made mistakes in the music cues. This confused all and
the exhibition was terribly marred.
The minister of the church was outraged. He ordered the panorama removed
at once and Palmer ejected. The town marshal escorted Palmer out.
Alfred was so angry at the tantalizing remarks Palmer had cast at him
from the audience that he did not dare trust himself near the man. He
warned Jake: "If that Palmer speaks to me I will slap his face until it
is as red as he made mine."
The marshal, through Gideon's pleadings, did not lock Palmer up but
carried him to the tavern. Gideon placed him in bed and returned to the
church to escort the wife to the tavern.
When Alfred and Jake appeared, Gideon was pleading with Palmer to go to
his room. Palmer was demanding drink, the landlord informed him that he
sold no drink nor would he permit drink carried into his house.
Alfred, ashamed of the man, walked out on the sidewalk. Palmer forced
his way out, Gideon feebly holding him. Palmer gave the feeble old man a
push that would have sent him headlong into the gutter had Alfred not
caught him. Alfred stood Gideon on his feet.
Palmer backed off a pace or two, bowing and feinting as if to fight. He
cried mockingly: "Who, who art thou? What kind of meat does this, our
Caesar feed upon that he should thus command us?" Putting up his hands
prize-fighter fashion, he sparred towards Alfred. He made pass after
pass as if to strike the boy who stood motionless, permitting Palmer's
fists to fly by his face without moving or dodging.
Whether through Alfred's passiveness or by mistake, one of Palmer's
fists landed square on the nose of Alfred. The red blood spurted over
his shirt front. Before Jake or Gideon could interfere, Alfred had the
man by the coat collar raining open handed slaps on his face, slaps that
so resounded they could be heard above the confusion and bustle of the
encounter.
Palmer had become as a madman. Seizing Alfred's arm in his teeth,
sinking them into the flesh, he held on like a bulldog. The blows Alfred
rained on the man's face had no effect on him and it was only when
beaten into insensibility that the jaws relaxed.
The light was dim on the outside and those near by did not realize that
Palmer was biting the boy. The severe punishment he meted out to Palmer
did not meet with the approval of many. However, after they were
separated and Alfred exposed his lacerated arm the talk turned the other
way: "He did not give him half enough."
The landlord sent for a doctor; the arm was treated. Mrs. Palmer
assisted in binding up the wound. Alfred felt so humiliated he scarcely
knew how to thank her. He requested the doctor to go up and see Palmer,
but the good wife had attended to his injuries.
Palmer, his wife and Gideon, decided to travel to the next stop by
train. All day on the road Jake and Alfred were debating as to the
course they would pursue. Jake was inclined to demand a settlement at
once. Alfred persuaded him to hold off until he heard from home, then he
would endeavor to collect the amount due his father, and if Jake desired
to travel, he, Alfred, would organize a minstrel show and they would go
on the road right.
The panorama was set. Gideon was at the church but Mrs. Palmer and her
husband had not put in an appearance. Alfred ran out to the door to
inquire of Gideon as to whether Palmer would be on hand. Gideon assured
him that the husband and wife had left their lodgings with him and
should be at the church at the present time.
Alfred ran back to the panorama. As he passed behind the curtain he came
face to face with Palmer. A badly bruised, black and blue face was that
into which the boy gazed. He was strongly inclined to take the man by
the hand and beg his forgiveness.
Jake, when advised of Alfred's feelings, said: "Vait, you kan't tell, he
may make your forgiveness. It iss his place to do der beggin'; don't you
make vrendts mit him till he askts you to."
Palmer worked as effectually as if nothing had occurred, although his
voice was unsteady at times and slightly hoarse. Palmer kept out of view
of the audience. Alfred never worked so effectually, although his arm
pained him constantly. Mrs. Palmer seemed in better spirits than for a
long time.
Gideon reported Professor Palmer had met with a painful accident in the
last town and could not be seen--this was Gideon's statement to all
inquiries for Palmer. The next morning ladies called at the tavern with
flowers. The minister called; he talked to Palmer until the panorama man
was so nervous he coaxed Gideon to get him whiskey.
The next night Palmer was at the church early. He was particularly
deferential to Jake and Alfred. Anything they said or did he acquiesced
in. Mrs. Palmer seemed like a different woman. A letter bringing good
news from the sick child was ascribed by Jake and Alfred as the cause of
her cheerfulness.
Gideon lingered at the church after the performance. Jake asked for one
hundred dollars to be paid on the morrow. Gideon advised that the order
must come from Palmer ere he could pay out the money. Jake answered: "I
vill see Mr. Bolmur aboudt it early tomorrow."
Gideon begged that Jake defer it: "Palmer is just getting back to
himself; if he gets excited he may go to drinking again."
"If he does ve know how to kure him, jes give him a tam goot trashing;
dot's vot vill kure him. Heh, Alfredt?"
Gideon carried the news to Palmer that Alfred and Jake had combined and
at any time they saw him look toward liquor they intended to give him a
thrashing. Whether Gideon understood this to be the attitude of Alfred
and Jake toward Palmer or whether he used the threat to deter the
drunkard, is not certain. Its effect was to so embitter Palmer that he
set about getting rid of Jake at once.
Mrs. Palmer was assured by Alfred that no such threat had ever been
indulged in by Jake or himself.
After he had exhausted all subterfuges, Palmer grudgingly gave Jake the
one hundred dollars.
Alfred was behind the scenes of the panorama dressing his sore arm. He
had been thus occupied for some time when Palmer and Gideon entered and
resumed a conversation they had evidently begun previously. Gideon
seemed in doubt and fearful: "But how will you manage to get rid of
him?" was the question he put to Palmer.
"You leave that to me and don't you give him any more money; stand pat
the next time he approaches you."
"But he is a partner in the concern. If he went to law he could compel
you to make an accounting from the time we began."
"What do you think I am?" and Palmer looked at Gideon in disgust. "Don't
imagine for one moment of your innocent, unnecessary life that I would
sell a Reuben like Jake or anyone else a third interest in this panorama
for six hundred dollars. Jake has no interest excepting in the profits
until he is paid six hundred dollars. After the six hundred dollars is
paid he has no further claim upon me. I could pay him six hundred
dollars and kick him out today, or if the panorama did not make six
hundred dollars this tour he would get nothing."
"Well, it's best you pay Jake the six hundred dollars and get rid of him
honestly," answered Gideon.
"I'll get rid of him. It's a hell of a nice business to carry two men
with you that threaten if you don't carry yourself straight they will
thrash you. I am justified in doing anything to free myself and the law
will uphold me in it."
"Well, you will be compelled to get another man if you dispense with
Alfred," urged Gideon.
"Oh, I can run into Baltimore and get a dozen people if I want to.
However, I'd like to keep the boy; he's useful and you can trust him.
But he's the damndest, greenest kid that I ever met to have had the
experience he has."
"Well, he's a pretty good boy. He did all your work the night you were
not here and your wife says he did it well; the boy has talent."
"Talent, hell! That's not talent; that's nerve. That's why I say he's
green. Did he ever say anything to you about his arm where I bit him?"
inquired Palmer.
"No; only to say it was pretty sore."
"Why the dam little fool could shook me down for all I had in the world,
mayhem is a penal offence in Maryland. That's why I say he's green. I
skinned his daddy out of nearly two hundred dollars. He imagines he will
get it when we go to Brownsville. I'll keep this trick so dam far away
from that town a crow couldn't fly to me in a week."
Alfred had a mind to walk out on the man and declare himself, but he
held his peace. He sought Jake and together they consulted an attorney.
Alfred's father would be compelled to bring suit where the debt was
contracted, get judgment, send the transcript on before the debt could
be collected. Jake did not own any of the panorama proper; his agreement
gave him one-third of the profits until he was paid the sum of six
hundred dollars and thirty dollars a week as hire for his team.
Alfred did not believe Palmer would do anything at once; he concluded
that the talk he had overheard was of the same character as that which
Palmer had indulged in so often previously.
Alfred was in bed; Jake sat by the window buried in thought. Finally
Jake muttered: "To hell mit dis bizness, I vish I vas back at my home in
Bedfordt." After musing in silence for some time, he muttered: "To hell
mit Palmer; to hell mit Gideon; to hell mit everything but der
panorama." Jake mused a few minutes. Rising to undress, he said
defiantly: "To hell mit der panorama."
The following day Jake asked for an accounting. Palmer endeavored to put
him off. "How much uv dis panorama I own?" asked Jake.
"Oh, Jake, what's the matter with you? You know what our contract is.
Come now, you're an intelligent man, let's do business on business
principles. I'll have Gideon balance the books by Sunday."
"I vant dem balanced today; my condract says dat I am der vun dots to
handle der money; maybe I take holdt tonight."
Palmer became frightened. Gideon furnished Jake a statement showing the
profits to be six hundred dollars and a few cents over. As Jake
understood the contract he was to receive one-third of the profits, this
would entitle him to $200, one hundred of which he had received.
Jake immediately demanded another hundred dollars. Palmer pleaded that
he had sent his money away. Jake was obdurate. Palmer finally produced
the amount.
Jake demanded that he have access to the books; both Palmer and Gideon
demurred, but Jake was again triumphant. However, nothing that favored
Jake was learned from them.