HE DEALS IN MATCHMAKING
It is known to all the world that Scattergood came to own the stage line
that plied down the valley to the railroad, but minute research and a
sifting of dubious testimony was required to unearth the true details of
that transaction in which the peg leg of Deacon Pettybone figured in a
dominant manner.
Scattergood had long had his eye on the stage line, because his valley,
the Coldriver Valley, was dominated by it. Transportation was king, and
Scattergood knew that if his vision of developing that valley and of
acquiring riches for himself out of the development were ever to become
actuality, he must first control the means of transporting passengers
and commodities. But the stage line was not to be acquired, because
Deacon Pettybone and Elder Hooper, who owned it in partnership, had not
been on speaking terms for twenty years. So bitter was the feud that
either would have borne cheerfully a loss to prevent the other from
making a profit. The stage line was a worry and an annoyance to both of
them, but neither of them would sell, because he was afraid his enemy
might derive some advantage.
As Scattergood well knew, the feud had its inception in religion as
religion is practiced in that community. Deacon Pettybone had been born
a Congregationalist. Elder Hooper was the sturdiest pillar of the
Congregationalist church. They had grown up together from boyhood, as
chums, and later as business partners, but at the mature age of forty
Deacon Pettybone had attended a revival service in the Baptist church.
When he came out of that service the mischief was done--he had been
converted to the tenets of immersion and straightway withdrew from the
church of his birth to enter the fold of its bitterest rival in
Coldriver, if it were possible for the Baptists to be bitterer rivals of
the Congregationalist than the Methodists and Universalists were.
Coldriver's population was less than four hundred. It required a great
deal of religion to get that four hundred safely past the snares and
pitfalls of Coldriver, for there were no fewer than five full-grown
churches, of which the Roman Catholic was the fifth, and a body of folks
who met in one another's houses of a Sabbath under the denomination of
the United Brethren. Five churches worshiped God through the crackling
parchment of their mortgages, when one, or at most two, might have
pointed the way to heaven free and clear, and with no worries over
semiannual interest.
When Pettybone turned apostate there was such a commotion as had never
before disturbed Coldriver; it subsided, and was forgotten as the years
dragged on, by all but Pettybone and Hooper, who continued tenaciously
to hate each other with a bitter hatred--and the more so that their
financial affairs were so inextricably mingled.
Even when Pettybone's leg was mashed by a log, and he lay between life
and death, there was no hint of a reconciliation; and when Pettybone
appeared again on Coldriver's streets, hobbling on a peg leg of his own
fashioning, the fires of vindictiveness burned higher and hotter than
ever.
The situation would have been hopeless to anybody not possessed of
Scattergood's optimism and resource. It is reported that Scattergood
propounded a saying early in his career at Coldriver, to this effect:
"Anybody kin git anythin' done if he wants it hard enough. Trouble is,
most folks hain't got a sufficient capacity for wantin'."
Scattergood's capacity for wanting was abnormal, and his ability to want
until he got was what made him the remarkable figure in the life of his
state that he was destined to become.
Scattergood was sitting on the piazza of his hardware store, basking in
the sunshine, and gazing up the dusty road which passed between
Coldriver's business structures, and disappeared over the hill. His eyes
were half closed, and his bulk, which later became phenomenal, filled
comfortably the specially reinforced chair which came to be called his
throne. Pliny Pickett slouched around the corner, and, as he approached,
the unmistakable odor of horses became noticeable. Inhabitants of
Coldriver knew when Pliny came into a room even if their backs were
turned.
"Mornin', Pliny," said Scattergood.
"Mornin', Scattergood."
"Fetch any passengers?"
"Drummer 'n' a fat woman to visit the Bogles. Say, Scattergood, looks
like you're goin' to have competition."
"Um!... Don't say."
"Hardware," said Pliny, nasally. "Station's heaped with it. Every
merchant in town's layin' in a stock."
"Do tell," said Scattergood, without emotion. "Kettleman and Locker?"
They were the grocers.
Pliny nodded. "An' Lumley and Penny mixin' it in with dry goods, and
Atwell minglin' it with clothin'."
Scattergood reached down and unlaced his shoes. His mind worked more
freely when his toes were unconfined, so that he might wriggle them as
he reasoned. Pliny knew the sign and grinned.
"Much 'bleeged," said Scattergood, and Pliny moved off.
"Pliny," said Scattergood.
"Eh?"
"Was you thinkin' of buyin' a stove?"
"No."
"Could think about it, couldn't you?"
"Might manage it."
"Folks thinkin' of buyin' stoves gits prices, don't they? Kind of
inquires around to see where they kin buy cheapest?"
"Most does."
"G'-by, Pliny."
"G'-by, Scattergood."
Something of the sort was not unanticipated by Scattergood. He knew the
merchants of the town had not forgiven him for once getting decidedly
the better of them in a certain transaction, and he knew now that they
had combined against him. Their idea was transparent to him. It was
their hope to put him out of business by adding hardware to their stocks
and to sell it at cost, until he gave up the ship. They could afford it.
It would not interfere with their normal profits.
Scattergood wriggled his toes furiously and squinted his eyes. They
alighted on a young man in clerical black, who crossed the square from
the post office. It was no other than Jason Hooper, son of Elder Hooper,
who had been educated to the ministry and had recently come to occupy
the pulpit of his father's church--a pleasant and worthy young man.
Almost simultaneously Scattergood's eyes perceived Selina Pettybone,
daughter of Deacon Pettybone, just entering the post office.
"Purty as a picture," said Scattergood to himself, and then he chuckled.
The young minister nodded to Scattergood, and Scattergood spoke in
return. "Mornin', Parson," he said. "How d'you find business?"
"Business?" The young man looked a bit startled.
"Oh, how's the marryin' industry, f'r instance? Brisk?"
Jason smiled. "It might be brisker."
"Um!... Maybe folks figgers you hain't had enough experience to do their
marryin' jest accordin' to rule--seein' 's you hain't married yourself."
Jason blushed and frowned. This was a subject that had been brought to
his attention insistently; he had been informed that a minister should
marry, and there were several marriageable daughters in his church.
"You aren't going to pick a wife for me, too?" he said, with a rueful
smile.
"Dunno but I might," said Scattergood. "Got any preferences as to weight
and color?"
"My only preference is to have them all--a long way off," said the young
minister.
"Some day you'll have opposite leanin's. There'll be a girl you'll want
to snuggle right clost to.... G'-by, Parson, I'll keep my eyes open for
you."
A few days later consignments of hardware began to arrive, and
Scattergood, sitting on the piazza of his store, watched them carried
with much ostentation into the stores of his rivals. It was noticed that
he scarcely had his shoes on during this week and that he even walked to
the post office barefooted, squirming his delighted toes into the warm
sand with apparent enjoyment. Immediately Locker and Kettleman and
Lumley and the rest made it known to Coldriver and environs that they
were dealing in hardware and not for profit, but merely as a convenience
to their patrons. They emphasized the fact that they would sell hardware
at cost, and exhibited prices which Scattergood studied and saw that he
could not meet.
The town watched the affair, expecting much of Scattergood, but he made
no move. Apparently he was contented to sit on his piazza and see
customers passing him by for the alluring bargains offered beyond.
Coldriver was disappointed in Scattergood, and it said so, much as a
disgruntled critic will speak of an actor who has made a flat failure in
a favorite piece.
On a certain afternoon Scattergood was seen to accost Selina Pettybone,
who paused, and drew nearer, showing signs of regret and interest.
"Seliny," said Scattergood, "you're one of them Daughters of Dorcas, or
half sisters of Mehitable, or somethin' religious and charitable, hain't
you?"
"Yes," said Selina, with a smile.
"What does sich folks do when they git to hear of a case of misery and
distress?"
"They do what they can, Mr. Baines," said Selina.
"Um!... If you heard Xenophon Banks was took sick of a busted leg, and
his wife was dead these two year, and a 'leven-year-old girl was tryin'
to nuss her pa and look after four more, what d'ye calc'late you'd
calc'late?"
"I'd calculate," said Selina, "that I ought to go out there to the farm
and see about it at once."
"Usin' your buggy or mine?"
"Mine, thank you."
"G'-by, Selina."
"G'-by, Mr. Baines," she said, and laughed.
Scattergood watched her disappear in the direction of her home and then
got up leisurely and ambled toward the Congregational parsonage, in
which young Jason Hooper lived in solitary dignity. Mr. Hooper was in
his study.
"Howdy, Parson?" said Scattergood.
"How do you do, Mr. Baines?"
"Bible say anythin' regardin' visitin' the sick an' ministerin' to the
oppressed?"
"A great deal, Mr. Baines."
"Think it's meant, eh? Or was it put there jest to preach about?"
"It is meant, undoubtedly."
"For ministers?"
"Yes."
"Um!... Xenophon Banks busted his leg. 'Leven-year-old daughter's tryin'
to carry him and four other childern on to her back, so to speak."
"I'll go at once, Mr. Baines."
Scattergood fidgeted. "Calculate Xenophon wasn't forehanded. Six mouths
to feed. _More mealtimes than meals_," he said, and fumbled in his
pocket. He was visibly embarrassed. "Here's ten dollars that was give me
to be used for sich a purpose. The feller that give it let on he wanted
it to come like it was give by the church, and him not mentioned. Git
the idee?"
"I get the idea perfectly," said young Mr. Hooper, his face lighting as
he surveyed Scattergood with a whimsical twinkle--and as he saw this
scheming, money-hungry, power-hungry man in a new light. "The man may
feel confident I shall not betray him."
"If I was a minister in sich a case I wouldn't forgit some stick candy
for them five childern. Seems like candy's 'most necessary for sich. Dum
foolishness, but keeps 'em quiet.... Git a big bag of candy.... And, if
I was doin' this, I wouldn't let no grass grow under my feet."
So it happened that Selina Pettybone and the Rev. Jason Hooper,
respectively, daughter of the leading deacon of the Baptist church, and
parson of the Congregational church, arrived at Xenophon Banks's little
house within ten minutes of each other, and each was greatly embarrassed
by the other's presence, for the family feud had compelled them to be
coldly distant to each other all of their short lives.... But there was
much to do, and embarrassment of such kind between an unusually pretty
and wholesome girl, and a reasonably well-looking and kindly young man,
is not an emotion that cannot be easily dissipated.
About a week later Scattergood chanced to pass Deacon Pettybone's
house, and saw the old gentleman sitting on the front porch, shaping a
large piece of wood with a draw-shave.
"Afternoon, Deacon," said Scattergood.
"Set and rest your legs," said the deacon. "Jest puttin' the finishin'
touches on this timber leg of mine."
"Sturdy-lookin' leg, Deacon."
"Best I ever made. Always calc'late to keep one ahead. Soon's one leg
wears out and I put on the spare one, I set to work fashionin' another,
to have by me. Always manage to figger some improvement."
"More int'restin' than cuttin' out ax handles," said Scattergood.
The deacon looked his scorn. "Anybody kin cut an ax handle, but lemme
tell you it takes study and figgerin' and _brains_ to turn out a timber
leg that's full as good if not better 'n a real one.... I aim to varnish
this here leg and hang it in the harness room. Wisht I could keep it by
me in the kitchen, but the ol' woman says it sp'iles her appetite.
Wimmin is full of notions. Claims she'd go crazy with a leg a-hangin'
back of the stove, and some day she'd up and slam it in the oven and
serve it up for a roast. You kin thank your stars you hain't got
wimmin's notions to worry you, Scattergood."
"How d'ye stand on the proposition to have the town build a sidewalk up
the hill apast the Congregational church, Deacon?"
The deacon pounded on the porch with his nearly finished leg, and grew
red in the face. "All the doin's of ol' man Hooper. Connivin' and
squillickin' around for his own ends. Lemme tell you, Scattergood, no
town meetin' of Coldriver'll ever vote sich a steal only over my dead
body. Jest you tell that far and wide."
Business had been almost at a standstill for Scattergood. The only
sales he made were of small articles his competitors had forgotten or
neglected to stock. He had not taken in enough money for a month to pay
for the wear and tear on his fixtures. Coldriver was coming to set him
down as a failure and a black disappointment; but it marveled that he
took no action whatever and showed no signs of worry. His eyes were as
blue and his manner as humorous as it had ever been. Most of his
conversation seemed to be on the subject of the sidewalk past the
Congregational church, and it was carried on in low tones, and never to
more than one individual at a time. If those individuals had compared
notes they would have been astonished. Scattergood's attitude on the
matter was widely different, depending on whether he talked with Baptist
or Congregationalist. One might almost say that both sides were coming
to him for advice on how to conduct its campaign to carry the town
meeting--and one would have been right.
The matter had developed into the hottest political issue Coldriver had
ever seen. No presidential election had come near to rivaling it, and
the local-option issue had stirred up fewer heartburnings and given rise
to less bellowing and to fewer hard words. The town meeting was less
than a month away.
But even in the heat of the campaign Scattergood found time to drive out
to Xenophon Banks's. The road to Banks's was fairly well traveled these
days, for there was hardly a day that did not see either Selina
Pettybone or Parson Hooper driving out to the little house, and,
strangely enough, the days on which both were present appeared to be in
the majority. Scattergood dropped out now and then with pockets full of
stick candy, which he never delivered himself, but which he always
handed to the minister or to Selina to be given anonymously after he was
gone. He seemed as much interested in watching Selina and Jason as he
was in talking with Xenophon, and he might have been perceived
frequently to nod his head with satisfaction--especially on the day when
he heard Jason call Selina by her first name, and on the other day when
he saw the young minister retaining Selina's hand longer than he should
have done in saying good afternoon. That day Jason drove back to town
with Scattergood.
"Likely-lookin' girl--Seliny," observed Scattergood.
"Beautiful," said the parson, and Scattergood grinned.
"Um!... Single ministers is a menace. Yes, sir, churches has busted up
on account of their ministers not bein' married."
There was no reply.
"But I calculate you're different. You're jest made and created to be an
old batch. Never seen sich a feller. Couldn't no girl interest you, not
if she was the Queen of Sheeby."
"Mr. Baines," said Jason, after a pause, "I'm very miserable. I--I think
I shall resign from my church and go away."
"Sandrich Islands or somewheres--missionery feller?" said Scattergood.
"I--why, yes, that's what I'll do.... I wish I'd never seen her." Then
he corrected himself sharply. "No, I don't. I'm glad I've seen her. I've
got that much, anyhow. I can always remember her and think about how
sweet and beautiful she was--"
"And die at the age of eighty with her name comin' from your lips on
your last breath. To be sure.... Seems to me, though, it would be a
sight more satisfyin' to live them fifty-odd years _with_ her and raise
up a fam'ly, and git some benefits out of that sweetness and beauty and
sich like, besides mullin' 'em over in your mind. Speakin' of Seliny,
wasn't you?"
"Yes."
"Don't hanker to marry her?"
"Mr. Baines--"
"Then why in tunket don't you?"
"She's a Baptist."
"White, hain't she?"
"Yes."
"Respectable?"
"Of course, sir."
"Don't call to mind no state law ag'in' Congregationalists marryin'
Baptists."
"My congregation wouldn't allow it."
"Hain't never seen no deed of sale of you to your congregation."
"Her father would never permit it?"
"Huh!..."
"And she's an obedient daughter."
"Has she said so?"
"Y-yes."
"Ho! Kind of human, after all, hain't you? Look pleased when she said
it?"
"She cried."
"Comfort her--some."
"I--She--she loves me, Mr. Baines."
"Well, I snum! Kind of disobedient to love you, hain't it? Knows her
father 'd be set ag'in' it?"
"Yes, but she can't help that."
"Why?"
"You--why, you _fall_ in love! You don't do it on purpose, Mr. Baines.
It just comes to you."
"From where?" said Scattergood, abruptly.
The young minister stared.
"Who's to blame for there bein' love?" Scattergood demanded.
After a pause the young man answered. "God," he said. "Why does He send
it?"
"So that people will marry, and the love will keep them together, strong
to bear the trials and labors of life. I think love is a kind of wages
that God pays to men and women for living on His earth."
"Um!... Does He send love sort of helter-skelter and hit-or-miss, or
does He aim it at certain folks?"
"I have often preached that marriages were made in heaven."
"Then it's a kind of a command, hain't it?"
"Yes."
"Which d'ye calculate is the wust disobedience? To refuse to obey an
order sich as this, or to disobey a parent that runs counter to the
wants of the Almighty?"
The young man's face was alight with happiness. "Mr. Baines," he said,
"I'm grateful to you. I shall marry Selina."
"Maybe," said Scattergood. "It runs in my mind you got to have dealin's
with Deacon Pettybone, and the deacon always figgers that the news he
gits from heaven is fresher and more dependable than what anybody else
gits. Might ask him and see."
A few days after that Coldriver knew that Parson Hooper had asked the
hand of Selina from her father and had been rejected with language and
almost with violence. Then a strange thing took place. If Jason had
married Selina without opposition, his congregation would have been
enraged. He might have been forced from his pulpit. Now it regarded him
as a martyr, and with clacking tongues and singleness of purpose it
espoused his cause and declared that their minister was good enough to
marry any girl alive, and that Deacon Pettybone was a mean,
narrow-minded, bigoted, cantankerous old grampus. The thing became a
public question, second in importance only to the sidewalk.
"Hold your hosses," Scattergood advised Jason. "Let's see what a mite
of dickerin' and persuasion'll do with the deacon. Then, if measures
fails, my advice to you as a human bein' and a citizen is to git Seliny
into a buckboard and run off with her. But hold on a spell."
So Jason held on, and the town meeting approached, and Scattergood
continued to sit in idleness on the piazza of his store and twiddle his
bare toes in the sunshine. Deacon Pettybone was a busy man, organizing
the forces of the Baptists, and seeking diligently to round up the votes
of neutrals. Elder Hooper, the leader of the Congregationalist party,
was equally occupied, and no man might hazard a guess at the outcome of
the affair.
"This here is a great principle," said Deacon Pettybone, "and men gives
their lives and sacrifices their families for sich. I'm a-goin' to fight
to the last gasp."
"Don't blame ye a mite," said Scattergood. "If them Congregationalists
rule this town meetin' you might's well throw up your hands. They'll
rule the town forever."
"It's got to be pervented."
"And nobody but you kin manage it," said Scattergood. "The hull thing
rests with you. Why, if you was sick so's to be absent from that meetin'
the Congregationalists 'u'd win, hands down."
"I b'lieve it," said the deacon, "and nothin' on earth'll keep me
away--nothin'. If I was a-layin' at my last gasp I'd git myself carried
there."
"Deacon," said Scattergood, solemnly, "much is dependin' on you.
Coldriver's fort'nit to have sich a man at the helm."
Even the cribbage game under the barber shop was suspended, and the
cribbage game was an institution. It was the deacon's one shortcoming,
but even there he strove to get the better of the enemy, for the two men
who were considered his only worthy antagonists at the game were
Congregationalists. The three bickered and quarreled and threatened
each other with violence, but they played daily. There were few
afternoons when a ring of spectators did not surround the table,
breathlessly watching the champions. It was the great local sporting
event, and who shall quarrel with the good deacon for touching cards in
the innocent game of cribbage? Certainly his pastor did not do so, nor
did the fellow members of his congregation. Indeed, there was even pride
in his prowess.
But the game was discontinued, and Hamilcar Jones and Tilley Newcamp
were loud in their excoriations of their late antagonist. The
Congregationalists had no hotter adherents than they, nor none who
entered the conflict with more bitterness of spirit. Scattergood saw to
it that he encountered them on the evening before the momentous town
meeting.
"Evenin', Ham. Evening Tilley."
"Howdy, Scattergood?"
"How's things lookin' for to-morrer?"
"Mighty even, Scattergood. If 'twan't for that ol' gallus Pettybone,
we'd git that sidewalk with votes to spare."
"Um!... If he was absent from the meetin' things might git to happen."
"Ho! Tie him to home, and there wouldn't even be a fight."
"Got a wooden leg, hain't he?"
"Wisht he had three."
"Got two, one hangin' in the harness room. Harness room's never locked.
If 'twas a boy could squirm through the window."
"What of it?"
"Nothin'. Jest happened to think of it.... Ever stop to think what a
comical thing it 'u'd be if somebody was to ketch a wooden-legged man
and saw his leg off about halfway up? Jest lay him across a saw buck
and saw her off while he hollered and fit. Most comical notion I ever
had."
"Would make a feller laugh."
"More 'special if his spare leg was stole away and he didn't have
nothin' but the sawed-off one. Sich a man would have difficulty gittin'
any place he wanted to git to.... G'-by, Ham. G'-by, Tilley. Hope the
meetin' comes out right to-morrer."
Scattergood went inside and looked at his bank book. In two months his
deposits from sales had amounted to something like a hundred dollars.
The situation spelled nothing less than bankruptcy, but Scattergood
replaced the book and waddled out to his piazza, where he sat in the
cool of the evening, twiddling his toes and looking from the store of
one competitor to the store of another, reflectively.
At a late hour a small boy named Newcamp delivered a bulky package to
Scattergood, and vanished into the darkness. The package was about large
enough to contain a timber leg.
The town seethed with politics next morning, and the deacon was in the
center of it. The meeting was called for ten o'clock. At nine thirty a
small boy wriggled up to the deacon and whispered in his ear. The deacon
quickly made his way out of the crowd and down the stairs into the
basement room under the barber shop--for news had been given him of a
chance to swap for votes. He burst into the room, and stopped, frowning,
for Tilley Newcamp stood before him. Hamilcar Jones was not at the
moment visible, because he was behind the door, which he slammed shut
and locked.
No word was uttered, but a Trojan struggle ensued. It was two against
one, but even those odds did not daunt the deacon. It was full five
minutes before he was flat on his back, panting and uttering such
burning and searing words as might properly fall from the lips of a
Baptist deacon. Tilley Newcamp, who was heavy, sat on his chest.
Hamilcar Jones dragged up a saw buck and laid the deacon's timber leg
across it.... The deacon saw and comprehended, and lifted up his voice.
Another five minutes were consumed in returning him to quiescence. And
then the saw did its work, while the deacon breathed threats of blood
and torture, and regretted that his religion prevented him from using
language better suited to his purpose. The leg was severed; a fragment
full ten inches long fell from the end, and the deacon's assailants drew
away, their fell purpose accomplished.
There was a rapping on the door. It was Scattergood Baines, and he was
admitted. His face was full of wrath as he gazed within, and he quivered
with fury as he ordered the two miscreants out of the place.
"What's this, Deacon, what's this?" he demanded.
The deacon told him at length, and fluently.
"I was jest in time. Now we kin send for that spare leg and you kin git
to the meetin'. Lucky you had that spare leg."
The deacon sat on the floor, speechless now, staring down at all that
remained to him of his timber leg. Scattergood, with great show of
solicitude, dispatched a youngster to the deacon's house for his extra
limb. He returned empty-handed.
"This here boy says the leg hain't in the harness room. Sure you left it
there?"
Again the deacon found his voice, and his words were to the general
effect that the blame swizzled, ornery, ill-sired, and regrettably
reared pew-gags had, in defiance of law and order, stolen and made away
with his leg--and what was he to do?
"Deacon, you can't go like that. If this story got into the meetin' it
would do fer you. You'd git laughed out. Them Congregationalists 'u'd
win. You got to have a sound leg to travel on, and I don't see but one
way to git it."
"How's that?"
"Call in young Parson Hooper and make him force them adherents of hisn
to give it up."
Scattergood did not wait for the permission he surmised would not be
given, but sent word for Jason Hooper, who came, saw, and was most
remarkably astonished.
"Parson," said Scattergood, "this here outrage is onendurable. Some of
you Congregationers done it, and stole his other leg. As leader of your
flock and a honest man, it's your bounden duty to git it back."
"But I--I know nothing about it. What can I do? I--There isn't a thing
you can do."
"Deacon," said Scattergood, "there hain't a soul in the world can git
back your leg in time but this young man. Maybe he don't know he kin do
it, but he kin. Hain't you got no offer to make?"
The parson started to say something, but Scattergood silenced him with a
waggle of the head.
"I got to git to that meetin'," bellowed the deacon. "There hain't
nothin' in the world I wouldn't give to git there, and git there whole
and hearty, and so's not to be laughed at."
"Remind you of any leetle want of yourn?" asked Scattergood. He took the
young man aside and whispered to him.
"Deacon," he said, presently, "Parson Hooper says as how he don't see no
reason for interferin' and helpin' his enemy." The parson had said
nothing of the sort. "But I kin see a reason, Deacon. If this here young
man was a member of your family, so to speak, and was related to you
clost by ties of love and marriage, I don't see how he'd have a right
to hold his hand.... Want this man's daughter f'r your wedded wife,
don't you?"
"Yes," said the parson, faintly.
"Hear that, Deacon? Hear that?"
"Never, by the hornswoggled whale that swallered Jonah."
"Meetin's about to start," said Scattergood, looking at his watch.
The deacon sweated and bellowed, but Scattergood adroitly waved the red
flag of animosity before his eyes, and pictured black ruin and
defeat--until the deacon was ready to surrender life itself.
"Git me my leg," he shouted, "and you kin have anythin'.... Git me my
leg."
"Is it a promise, Deacon? Calculate it's a promise?"
"I promise. I promise, solemn."
Scattergood whispered again in the pastor's ear, who stuttered and
flushed and choked, and hurried out of the room, presently to reappear
with the deacon's spare leg.
"Now, young feller, make your preparations for that there weddin'....
Scoot."
It is of record that the deacon arrived, like Sheridan at Winchester, in
the nick of time; that he rallied his flustered cohorts and led them to
triumph--and then regretted the bargain he had made. But it was too
late. He could not draw back. Wife and daughter and townsfolk were all
against him, and he could not withstand the pressure.
And then....
"Parson," said Scattergood, "your pa and the deacon ought to make up."
"They'll never do it, Mr. Baines."
"Deacon'll have to let your pa come to the weddin'. There'll be makin'
up and reconciliations when there's a grandson, but I can't wait. I'm in
a all-fired hurry. You go to the deacon and tell him your pa sent him
to say that he's ready to bury the hatchet and begs the deacon's pardon
for everythin'--everythin'."
"But it wouldn't be true."
"It's got to be true. Hain't I sayin' it's true? And then you go to your
pa and tell him the deacon wants to make up, and begs _his_ pardon out
and out. Tell both of 'em to be at my store at three o'clock, but don't
tell neither t'other's to be there."
At three o'clock Deacon Pettybone and Elder Hooper came face to face in
Scattergood's place of business.
"Howdy, gents?" said Scattergood. "Lookin' forward to bein' mutual
grandads, I calc'late. Must be quite a feelin' to know you're in line to
be a grandad."
"Huh!" grunted the deacon.
"Wumph!" coughed the elder.
"To think of you old coots dandlin' a baby on your knees--and buyin' it
pep'mint candy and the Lord knows what, and walkin' down the street,
each of you holdin' one of its hands and it walkin' betwixt you....
Dummed if I don't congratulate you."
The deacon looked at the elder and the elder looked at the deacon. They
grinned, frostily at first, then more broadly.
"By hek! Eph," said the deacon.
"I'll be snummed!" said the elder, and they shook hands there and then.
"Step back here a minute. I got a mite of business. You won't want the
nuisance of that stage line--with a grandson to fetch up. I'm kinder
hankerin' to run the thing--not that it'll be much of an investment."
"What you offerin'?" asked the deacon.
Scattergood mentioned the sum. "Cash," he concluded.
"Calc'late we better sell," said the elder.
An hour later, with the papers in his pocket to prove ownership,
Scattergood visited the stores of his rivals, Locker, Kettleman, Lumley,
and Penny.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you been a-tryin' to crowd me out of business. I
hain't made a cent of profit f'r two months, and I calc'late on a profit
of two hunderd and fifty a month. Jest gimme your check for five hunderd
dollars and I'll take your stocks of hardware off'n your hands at, say,
fifty cents on the dollar, and we'll call it a day."
"Scattergood, we got you where we want you. You can't hold out another
sixty days."
"Maybe. But, gentlemen, I guess we kin do business. I jest bought the
only means of transportin' goods, wares, and merchandise into Coldriver.
Beginnin' now, rates for freight goes up. I've studied the law, and
there hain't no way to pervent me. I kin charge what I want for
freighting and what I want will be so much not a one of you kin do
business.... And I'll put in groceries and what not, myself. Gittin' my
freight free, I calc'late to under-sell you quite consid'able.... Kin we
do business?"
The enemy went into executive session. They surrendered. Scattergood
pocketed a check for five hundred dollars, and came into possession of a
fine stock of hardware at fifty cents on the dollar. Likewise, he owned
the stage line and franchise, controlling the only right of way by which
a railroad could reach up the valley. It had required politics, marrying
and giving in marriage, and patience, to accomplish it, but it was done.
That evening Mrs. Hooper and Mrs. Pettybone, childhood friends, long
separated by the feud, stopped to speak to Scattergood.
"Nobody knows how we appreciate what you done Minnie and me," said Mrs.
Pettybone.
"Blessed is the peacemaker," said Mrs. Hooper.
"Thankee, ladies. I don't mind bein' a peacemaker any time--when I kin
do it at a profit."
"It's always done at a profit, Mr. Baines, if you read the Good Book.
This day you laid up a treasure in heaven."
"Trouble with depositin' profits in heaven," said Scattergood, very
soberly, "is that you got to wait so tarnation long to draw your
int'rest."