Three years passed. No change had come over the old house where Potter,
John, and Alf lived, but the farm was no longer a place half covered
with bushes and briers. It was a long time after Jule's death before
old Alf regained his wonted cheerfulness; and one night when she had,
for more than two years, been in her grave, old Alf got out of bed, and
began to walk up and down the room. Potter, who heard him, asked if he
was ill. "Oh, no, sah," he replied. "I am jes' walkin' wid de speret o'
my chile."
To John there had come a great change. He had studied with unwavering
determination, and had during two winters attended school at Sunset.
From a charge, he had become a companion to Potter, who, during more
than one conversation with Mrs. Forest and Eva, had said: "That boy
has a wonderfully strong and original mind. His teacher declares that
he never saw his equal. The mark he is going to make will be deeper
than any furrow he has ever plowed."
Potter and John had spent many pleasant hours at the Forest house. John
had read all of Eva's books. He had not stopped at this; he had bought
a number of books which he found in a store at Sunset--old books, which
were thought by the storekeeper to be hopelessly out of date. He had
laughed when John marched proudly away with a sack full of treasures.
"That feller will never make a livin'," said the storekeeper. "Why, he
give me $5 for a lot of old rubbish that I've been tumblin' about the
store for years." John also laughed, but with quiet joy, for in the
sack there were "Burns' Poems," the "Vicar of Wakefield," "Paul and
Virginia," "Plutarch's Lives," and "Macaulay's Essays." One afternoon,
John and Eva were strolling along a flower-fringed road near Mrs.
Forest's house, when the girl remarked:
"It is not strange to me that you are so different intellectually now
from your former self. When I first saw you I knew that this time would
come."
"It is so strange to me," John replied, "that I can scarcely realize
it. Oh, of course, I am by no means learned, and doubtless never shall
be, but every day I see the light of perseverance thrown upon mysteries
which were once dark and stubborn. Eva, there is no life so wretched as
that of the yearning backwoods boy. His hands are tied; the dust from
the field of ignorance blinds his eyes. But there is hope for every
boy. I believe that as a case of hopelessness mine was at one time
without a parallel."
"Yes," she replied, "but you have sat between two remarkable teachers.
On one side, a man of books, not a great philosopher, but a man of
engaging fancy and bright illustration. On the other side, a child
of nature--a man who can feel the pulse of a leaf, who can hear the
beating of the heart of a tree."
"Yes, but those teachers came to me," John rejoined, "just as
opportunities must at some time come to all boys. If I could preach
to every farmer boy, or for that matter to every boy, the first word
uttered should be 'books.' Yonder comes that fellow Juckels. Let us go
back toward the house."
They turned back, but had not gone far when Juckels overtook them.
"Out sorter sunin' yo'selves, I see," he said. John gave him a short
"Yes;" Eva said nothing.
"Tell me, they do, that you air sorter gittin' up in the picters, John."
"I am not studying pictures. I have no intention of becoming an artist."
"Oh, you know what I mean? Say, one time er good while ergo, I told
you that you would hear from me in a way that would make you squeal.
Ricolleck?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Wall, the reason you ain't is becaze I went off down ter my uncle's
in the white oak neighborhood, an' ever' time I came back you was off
at school or somewhar else. Now, don't you think it is erbout time we
was havin' er settlement?"
"I don't owe you anything," John replied.
"No; but I owe you suthin'."
"All right, then, pay it."
John felt the girl's trembling touch upon his arm. He looked at her,
and saw that her face had grown paler. She gave him a look of earnest
meaning, and then slowly shook her head. Not another word was spoken
until they were within a few steps of Eva's home. Then John, bidding
her good evening, said that he must hurry on and assist Potter and Alf
in feeding the cattle.
"I wish to see you a moment," said the girl, drawing him aside. "Don't
have anything to do with that man." She added, in an undertone, "he is
utterly without principle."
"I will keep an eye on him," John replied. "The coward ever seems to
fear the light of an open eye quite as much as he does the gleaming of
a weapon. Good-evening."
John walked rapidly, but Juckels, moving with a sort of dog trot, soon
overtook him.
"Looks like we mout have rain, John; the sun's goin' ter bed sorter
bloody, ez the feller says."
"Yes," John replied.
"Hickory switches grow putty plentiful long here, don't they?"
"Yes."
"Never wuz cut in the face with one, I reckon?"
"No."
"They say it hurts putty bad."
"You ought to know."
"Sho nuff; mebbe, then, I do."
"I should think so, if you have a good memory."
"You bet I've got er good one. Now here, I want you ter 'polyjise ter
me."
"What for?"
"You know, an' you've got ter do it ur suthin' is goin' ter happen."
"Something is always happening. If something didn't happen, time would
be very dull to some people."
"Yas; an' when suthin' do happen, time mout stop ter some people.
You've hearn uv fellers what b'l'eves that er pistol sometimes snaps,
but er knife don't, hain't you?"
"Yes."
"Wall, I'm one uv them fellers."
"There are fellows, too, that I suppose you have heard of."
"Whut sort?"
"The kind that would not hesitate a moment to knock you down and kick
you across the road. I see your knife, you coward." They had stopped in
the road, and were facing each other.
"Yas, an' you'll feel----"
John knocked him down with a blow, lightning-like in its quickness,
and, without waiting for him to get up, resumed his brisk walk. Juckels
did not follow, but in a sort of hoarse roar exclaimed: "You'll hear
from me in a way that'll make you squeal! see if you don't."
When John reached home, he found that the cattle had been fed, and that
supper was waiting for him.
"Suthin' gwine ter snatch you up one deze nights an' run erway wid
you," said Alf, slyly winking at Potter. "Keep on prowlin' 'round de
woods at night, an' you'll see bimeby. Set up dar now an' eat some o'
dem fish me an' Mr. Potter dun cotch. B'l'ebes da bites in dis airly
fall weder better den da do in de spring. Yo' Aunt Liz wuz ober yere
terday, an' wuz powerful 'stonished ter see dat we ain't dun starved
ter death yit. When she seed deze new cheers an' table it made de ole
lady open her eyes, I tell you. Seed dat pizen feller Juckels pokin'
roun' down by de river 'bout dinner time. Dat feller ain't gwine ter
come ter no good. I lay er rattlesnake gwine ter bite him some day.
Huh, an' I lay it'll kill de snake, too."
John then related his adventure with Juckels. "Why, you ought to have
stamped the life out of the scoundrel," Potter exclaimed. "Don't you
know that he might hide behind a tree and shoot you. I will go over
to-morrow, see his father, and tell him that unless something is done
his son is likely to be badly hurt. Why, it is an outrage."
"Doan reckon it is much use ter see his daddy," Alf replied. "W'y, dat
feller is older den John, an' I doan reckon his daddy ken do much wid
him."
"That may be, but something must be done. By the way, this morning
while strolling up the river I met two well-dressed men, horseback, who
asked me if I knew who was cutting that cedar timber away up beyond
Rocky Bend."
Alf opened his eyes and straightened up. "You didn' know o' co'se," he
said, with the thickness of a half-strangled whisper.
"Why, yes; I told them that four or five brothers named Dun were doing
it."
"Den de Lawd hab mussy on us!" the old negro exclaimed.
"What difference did it make? I don't understand you."
"Oh, I 'tended ter tell you 'bout dat, but it's too late now, for we'se
gone. Lawd, da's got you po' ole servant on de hip ergin!"
"Alf, are you crazy?"
"No, sah; an' I'se erfeerd I won't be nuthin' putty soon. Mr. Potter,
dat cedar timber up dar is on guberment lan', an' dem men dat axed you
erbout it wuz guberment men. W'y, nobody in dis yere neighborhood would
er tole on dem Duns, fur da's de wust men you eber seed. Da'll dodge
dem guberment men an' come right yere airter us. Doan ax me how da'll
fine out who tole on 'em, fur I lay da knows dis minit. Did anybody
yere you tole 'em?"
"There was a man fishing close by."
"Dat settles it. Lawd, da dun built er nudder fire un'er yo' po' ole
servant."
"I didn't think to caution Mr. Potter," said John.
"Too late ter talk erbout it now," Alf went on. "Dem Duns comin' right
yere dis night, set dis house erfire an' shoot us ez we runs out."
"The situation is serious," Potter admitted.
"Serious!" Alf exclaimed. "Does you call it serious fur er man ter run
outen de house ter keep frum bein' burnt up an' den git shot down like
er deer? Oh, Lawd, you better take yo' po' servant home, caze he kain't
git erlong down yere."
"I didn't mean to harm the Dun brothers or in the least meddle with
their affairs," said Potter, "but if they hold my action to be of such
mortal sin and come to this house to seek a bloody revenge I shall deem
it my duty to shoot them."
"That is the way to talk," John replied.
"Yes," said Alf, "it's de way ter talk, an' it's de way ter ack, too,
but de danger is in 'em settin' de house erfire. Wall, I'se got er
powerful good ole gun yere, an' ef I draw down on one o' dem men he'll
wish he had er staid at home, I tell you. We'd better put deze lights
out, caze dem raskils ken slip up yere an' shoot us through de cracks."
Action upon the old negro's advice was immediately taken. The wind
began to howl furiously. A rumbling, low and distant, proclaimed with
sullen threatening the coming of a storm. Nearer, nearer the rumbling
came, and glittering spears of blinding light were thrust with angry
flashing through the chink holes of the wall. The wind became more
violent, the rumbling burst into a deafening clap, and ragged sheets of
water lashed the house. The lingering lightning, quivering in fearful
dalliance, as though loth to sink back into the dark and surging cloud,
wrought upon the river, which could be seen through the window, a
thousand terror-breeding shapes--great monsters that lashed the water
into fiery foam.
"We better put down deze yere guns an' pray erwhile," said Alf. "Oh,
Lawd, is you gwine ter let de elements kill yo' po' ole servant? My
greshus, yere dem limbs strikin' de house! Dar ain't been no sich er
storm ez dis--mussyful hebens, is de house down! Oh, I thought we gone
dat time, sho. Deze ole logs wuz put yere ter stay--dat is, I hopes so."
"This storm will protect us from the Duns until morning, at least,"
Potter rejoined. "This lightning will purify our air against their
poisonous vapors."
"Then," said John, "let us hope that this wind is not ill. Mr. Potter,
you remember the first day I ever saw you, when we were sitting in the
yard discussing a plan upon which, to me at least, there has fallen
such a promise of ripeness, you said that I might think it strange that
you should seek to bury yourself here in the woods."
"Yes, I remember."
"And you said that some time in the future you hoped to tell me the
cause."
"Yes."
"Well, is not this a most befitting time? If a storm drove you to this
place let a storm drive out to me your confidence. I have often seen
you put your book aside and give yourself to moments of so deep a
brooding that, though I would not seek to be obtrusive, I have tried
to study out your mystery. This storm, I think, is growing worse.
To-morrow--well, to-morrow we may not be here. Tell me now."
A lingering, quivering light fell on Potter's face, and under the glare
John could see the darkened lines of trouble.
"No, my dear boy, I can not tell you now. That I have confidence in
you, you well know; that I have an affection for you, you must feel.
I have watched the soft color of sadness which I once saw under the
sunburn on your face grow brighter with an eager glow. I have seen your
mind unfold, and each day have found something new in you to admire,
but I can not tell you what you crave to know. There, the lightning is
growing dimmer. From a roar the wind is shrinking to a wail."
"Yas," said Alf, "an' I thank de Lawd fur it, too; I tell you dat.
It won't do ter fool wid one deze yere storms dat puts on er black
nightcap an' w'ars red ribbons at its throat. I think we mout ez well
lay down yere now an' sleep erwhile. Dem men ain't gwine ter come yere
ter-night; but I do b'l'ebe da'll be yere in de mawnin'; an' ef da
block us up in yere de neighbors will jes' let us stay yere an' starve,
caze, I tell yo, da so monst'us feerd o' dem fellers."
They had not long to wait when morning came until they saw that Alf's
prediction had not been an idle one; for when Potter opened the door to
look out, there came a short report from an opposite hillside, and a
bullet sent splinters flying from the door facing.
"Shet de do'," Alf cried. "Grab yo' guns an' lay down on de flo'. When
de sun comes up da gwine shoot through deze yere cracks. Oh, Lawd, da's
still atter yo' po' ole servant. Lissun how da shoot. Biz! Yere dem
balls!"
"If I can get a sight at one of them," said Potter, peering through
a hole in the wall, "I think that I can relieve him from duty. Boys,
shoot, anyway."
A brisk firing was now begun on each side. A small mirror flew into
fragments and fell on the floor. A dish pan with a ringing "tang" fell
from the wall.
"Oh, de scounule," said Alf. "It's er powerful good thing for us dat
dar ain't no cracks closer ter de flo'. Helloa! What's de matter? Thank
de Lawd, w'y look yander; de guberment men is airter 'em."
Indeed, a deputy United States marshal and his men had arrived, and the
Duns, five in number, were captured, not however until two of them had
been severely wounded. The prisoners were brought to the house, where
one man, a sort of physician, attended to the wounded.
"I am very sorry that we got you into trouble," said the deputy
marshal, addressing Potter, "but you have greatly aided us in breaking
up this gang."
"What will you do with them?" Potter asked.
"They will be sent to the United States prison at Detroit. They have
stolen a great deal of valuable timber, for which the government has
use, and their terms are not likely to be short. I don't think you need
to fear any more trouble, as the entire gang is now broken up. Well,
boys, go and get the wagon and we will haul our violent woodchoppers to
Little Rock."
That night old Alf, taking down his fiddle, remarked: "Got ter hab
some music, now. Oh, I tell yer dat when er man praises de Lawd wid er
little music now an' den, it takes er mighty powerful evil speret ter
lay his claw on him."