CITY SKILL VERSUS COUNTRY MUSCLE.
Hiram Maxwell was not called upon to perform very arduous duties at
Deacon Mason's. The Deacon had given up farming several years before,
and Hiram's duties consisted in doing the chores about the house. He had
plenty of spare time, and he used it by going down to the Pettengill
place and talking to Mandy Skinner.
The next morning after the adventure in the barn, Hiram went down as
usual after his morning's work was done to see Mandy.
"How do you find things, Mandy?" said Hiram, opening the kitchen door
and putting his head in.
"By looking for them," said Mandy, without looking up from her work.
"You are awful smart, ain't you?" retorted Hiram.
Mandy replied, "People's opinion that I think a good deal more of than
yours have said that same thing, Mr. Maxwell."
Hiram saw that he was worsted, so he changed the conversation.
"Anybody to hum?"
Mandy answered sharply, "Everybody's out but me, of course I am nobody."
Hiram came in and closed the door.
"You needn't be so pesky smart with your tongue, Mandy. Of course I
can't keep up with you and you know it. What's up?"
Mandy replied, "The thermometer. It isn't nearly as cold as it was
yesterday."
Hiram, seeing a breakfast apparently laid out on a side table inquired,
"Expectin' somebody to breakfast?"
"No," said Mandy, "I got that ready for Mr. Pettengill, but he didn't
have time to eat it because he was afraid he would lose the train."
"Has he gone to the city?" asked Hiram.
"I 'spect he has," answered Mandy.
"Well," remarked Hiram, "s'posin' I eat that breakfast myself, so as to
save you the trouble of throwin' it away."
"Well," said Mandy, "I was going to give it to the pigs; I suppose one
hog might as well have it as another."
Hiram said, "Why, you don't call me a big eater, do you, Mandy?"
Mandy laughed and said, "I can't tell, I never saw you when you wasn't
hungry. How do you know when you have got enough?"
Hiram said, "I haven't got but one way of tellin', I allus eats till it
hurts me, then I stop while the pain lasts."
Then he asked Mandy, "What did 'Zekiel go to the city for?"
Mandy answered, "Mr. Pettengill does not confide his private business to
me."
Hiram broke in, "I bet a dollar you know why he went, just the same."
Mandy said, "I bet a dollar I do."
Then she broke into a loud laugh. Hiram evidently thought it was very
funny and laughed until the tears stood in his eyes.
"What are you laughing for?" asked Mandy.
Hiram's countenance fell.
"Come down to the fine point, Mandy, durned if I know."
"That's a great trick of yours, Hiram," said Mandy. "You ought not to
laugh at anything unless you understand it."
"I guess I wouldn't laugh much then," said Hiram. "I allus laugh when I
don't understand anythin', so folks won't think that I don't know where
the p'int domes in. But say, Mandy, what did Pettengill go to the city
for?"
During this conversation Hiram had been eating the breakfast that had
been prepared for Ezekiel. Mandy sat down near him and said, "I'll tell
you, but it ain't nothing to laugh at. Mr. Pettengill had a telegraph
message come last night."
"You don't say so!" said Hiram. "It must be pretty important for persons
to spend money that way. Nobody dead, I s'pose?"
"Well," said Mandy, "Mr. Pettengill left the telegram in his room and I
had to read it to see whether I had to throw it away or not, and I
remember every word that was in it."
Hiram asked earnestly, "Well, what was it? Is his sister Alice goin' to
get married?"
Mandy answered, "No, she is sick and she wanted him to come right up to
Boston at once to see her."
Hiram said, "'Zekiel must think a powerful lot of that sister of his'n.
Went right off to Boston without his breakfast."
"I guess it would have to be something nearer than a sister to make you
do that," said Mandy. "I don't know but one thing, Hiram, that would
make you go without your feed."
"What's that, Mandy?" said he. "You?"
"No," replied Mandy, "a famine."
"You ain't no sort of an idea as to what's the matter with her, have
you?" he asked.
"No, I haven't," said Mandy, "and if I had I don't imagine I would tell
you. Now you better run right home, little boy, for I have to go
upstairs and do the chamber work."
She whisked out of the room, and Hiram, helping himself to a couple of
apples, left the house and walked slowly along the road towards
Eastborough Centre.
Suddenly he espied a man coming up the road and soon saw it was Quincy
Adams Sawyer.
"Just the feller I wanted to see," soliliquized Hiram.
As Quincy reached him he said, "Mr. Sawyer, I want to speak to you a
minute or two. Come into Pettengill's barn, there's nobody to hum but
Mandy and she's upstairs makin' the beds."
They entered the barn and sat down on a couple of half barrels that
served for stools.
"Mr. Sawyer, you've treated me fust rate since you've been here and I
want to do you a good turn and put you on your guard."
Quincy laughed.
Hiram continued, "Well, maybe you won't laugh if Bob Wood tackles you. I
won't tell you how I found it out for I'm no eavesdropper, but keep your
eye on Bob Wood and look out he don't play no mean tricks on you."
Quincy remarked, "I suppose Mr. Strout is at the bottom of this and he
has hired this Bob Wood to do what he can't do himself."
"I guess you have got it about right, Mr. Sawyer," said Hiram. "Can you
fight?" he asked of Quincy.
"I am a good shot with a rifle," Quincy replied. "I can hit the ace of
hearts at one hundred feet with a pistol."
"I don't mean that," said Hiram. "Can you fight with yer fists?"
"I don't know much about it," said Quincy with a queer smile.
"Then I am afraid you will find Bob Wood a pretty tough customer. He can
lick any two fellers in town. Why, he polished off Cobb's twins one day
in less than five minutes, both of 'em."
"Where does this Bob Wood spend most of his time?" asked Quincy.
"He loafs around Hill's grocery. When he ain't wokin' at his trade,"
said Hiram, "he does odd jobs for the Putnams in summer and cuts some
wood for them in winter. You know Lindy Putnam, the gal you sang with at
the concert?"
"Come along," said Quincy, "I feel pretty good this morning, we'll walk
down to Hill's and see if that Mr. Wood has anything to say to me."
"Don't you think the best plan, Mr. Sawyer, would be to keep out of his
way?" queried Hiram.
"Well, I can't tell that," said Quincy, "until I get better acquainted
with him. After that he may think he'd better keep out of my way."
"Why, he's twice as big as you," cried Hiram, with a look of
astonishment on his face.
"Come along, Hiram," said Quincy. "By the way, I haven't seen Miss
Putnam since the concert. I think I will have to call on her."
Hiram laughed until his face was as red as a beet.
"By gum, that's good," he said, as he struck both legs with his hands.
"What's good?" asked Quincy. "Calling on Miss Putnam?"
"Yes," said Hiram. "Wouldn't she be s'prised?"
"Why?" asked Quincy. "Such a call wouldn't be considered anything out of
the way in the city."
"No, nor it wouldn't here," said Hiram, "but for the fact that Miss
Putnam don't encourage callers. She goes round a visitin' herself, and
she treats the other girls fust rate, 'cause she has plenty of money and
can afford it. But she has got two good reasons for not wantin'
visitors."
"What are they?" asked Quincy.
"Well, I'm country myself," said Hiram, "and there are others in
Eastborough that are more country than I am. But if you want to see and
hear the genooine old Rubes you want to see old Sy Putnam and his wife
Heppy."
"But Miss Mason said Miss Putnam was quite wealthy."
"You bet she is," said Hiram. "She's worth hundreds of millions of
dollars."
"I think you must mean thousands," remarked Quincy.
"Well, as far as I'm concerned," said Hiram, "when you talk about
millions or thousands of money, one's just the same to me as t'other. I
never seed so much money in my life as I seed since you've been here,
but I don't want you to think I'm beggin' for more."
"No," said Quincy, "I should never impute such a motive to you."
Quincy took a dollar bill from his pocket and held it up before Hiram.
"What's that?" he asked.
"That's one hundred cents," said Hiram, "considerably more than I have
got."
"Well," said Quincy, "if you tell me why Miss Putnam doesn't like
callers I will give you that dollar."
"Stop a minute," replied Hiram. "Soon as we turn this next corner we'll
be in full sight of the grocery store. You can go ahead and I'll slip
'cross lots and come up from behind the store. If Wood thought I'd told
you he would lick me and I'm no fighter. Now about Miss Putnam,"
dropping his voice, "I heard it said, and I guess it's pretty near the
truth, that she is so blamed stuck up and dresses so fine in city
fashions that she is just 'shamed of her old pa and ma and don't want
nobody to see 'em."
"But," asked Quincy, "where did she get her money?"
Hiram answered, "From her only brother. He went down to Boston, made a
pile of money, then died and left it all to Lindy. If what I've told
you ain't gospel truth it's mighty near it. Well, I'll see you later,
Mr. Sawyer."
And Hiram ran down a path that led across the fields.
Quincy turned the corner and walked briskly towards Hill's grocery
store. A dozen or more young men and as many older ones were lounging
about the platform that ran the whole length of the store, for it was a
very mild day in January, and the snow was rapidly leaving under the
influence of what might be called a January thaw.
Quincy walked through the crowd, giving a friendly nod to several faces
that looked familiar, but the names of whose owners were unknown to him.
He entered the store, found a letter from his mother and another from
his sister Gertie, and saying "Good morning" to Mr. Hill, who was the
village postmaster, soon reached the platform again.
As he did so a heavily built young fellow, fully six feet tall and
having a coarse red face, stepped up to him and said brusquely, "I
believe your name's Sawyer."
"Your belief is well founded," replied Quincy. "I regret that I do not
know your name."
"Well, you won't have to suffer long before you find out," said the
fellow. "My name's Robert Wood, or Bob Wood for short."
"Ah! I see," said Quincy. "Robert for long wood and Bob for short wood."
Wood's face grew redder.
"I s'pose you think that's mighty smart makin' fun of folks' names. I
guess there ain't much doubt but what you said what a friend of mine
tells me you did."
Quincy remarked calmly, "Well, what did your friend say I said about
you?"
By this time the loungers in and outside the store had gathered around
the two talkers. Wood seemed encouraged and braced up by the presence of
so many friends. He walked up close to Quincy and said, "Well, my friend
told me that you said there was but one jackass in Eastborough and he
sang bass in the quartette."
Quincy paled a little, but replied firmly, "I never said it, and if your
friend says I did he lies and he knows it."
At this juncture, as if prearranged, Obadiah Strout suddenly emerged
from the grocery store.
"What's the matter, gentlemen?" asked Mr. Strout.
"Well," said Wood, "I told this young man what you said he said, and he
says you're a liar."
"Well," said Strout pompously, "I know that he said it and I have
witnesses to prove it. When you settle with him for calling you a
jackass I'll settle with him for calling me a liar."
"Take your coat off, Mr. Sawyer, and get ready. I won't keep you waitin'
but a few moments," said Bob.
A jeering laugh went up from the crowd. Quincy, turning, saw Hiram.
"Here, Hiram," said he, "hold my things."
He took off his overcoat and then his black Prince Albert coat and
passed them to Hiram. Then he removed his hat, which he also handed to
Hiram.
Turning to Wood he said, "Come right out here, Mr. Wood; here is a place
where the sun has kindly removed the snow and we can get a good
footing."
Wood followed him, and the crowd formed a ring about them.
"Now, Mr. Wood, or perhaps I should say Bob Wood for short, put up your
hands."
Bob put them up in defiance of all rules governing boxing. This was
enough for Quincy; he had sized up his man and determined to make the
most of his opportunity.
"Mr. Wood," he said politely, "before I hit you I am going to tell you
just exactly where I am going to strike, so you can't blame me for
anything that may happen. I shall commence on your right eye."
Wood's face grew livid; he made a rush at Quincy as though he would fall
on him and crush him. Quincy easily eluded him, and when Wood made his
second rush at him he parried a right-hander, and before Wood could
recover, he struck him a square blow full on his right eye. They faced
each other again.
"Now, Mr. Wood," said Quincy, "I see you have a watch in your vest
pocket. Is it an open-faced watch?"
"S'posin' you find out," said Wood, glaring at Quincy with his left eye,
his right one being closed up.
"Well, then," remarked Quincy, "you will be obliged to have it repaired,
for I am going to hit you just where that watch is and it may injure
it."
Wood was more wary this time and Quincy was more scientific. He gave
Wood a left-hander in the region of the heart which staggered him.
They faced each other for the third time.
"I regret the necessity this time, but I will be obliged to strike you
full in the face and in my excitement may hit your nose."
It required all of Quincy's dexterity to avoid the wild rushes and
savage thrusts made by Wood. But Quincy understood every one of the
boxer's secrets and was as light and agile on his feet as a cat. It was
three minutes at least before Quincy got the desired opening, and then
he landed a blow on Wood's nose that sent him flat upon his back.
"That's enough," cried the crowd, and several friends led Wood to a seat
on the platform.
Quincy turned to Strout. "Now, Mr. Strout, I am at your service."
"No, sir," said Strout, "I am willing to fight a gentleman, but I don't
fight with no professional prize fighter like you." Turning to the
crowd: "I know all about this fellow. He is no lawyer at all, he is a
regular prize fighter, and down in Boston he is known by the name of
Billy Shanks."
[Illustration: "AND THEN HE LANDED A BLOW ON WOOD'S NOSE"]
Quincy smiled. Turning to the crowd he said, "The statement just made by
Mr. Strout is like his statement to Mr. Wood. The first was a lie, the
second is a lie, and the man who uttered them is a liar. Good morning,
gentlemen."
Quincy went to Hiram, who helped him on with his coats. They walked
along together. After they turned the corner and got out of sight of the
grocery store, Hiram said:
"Geewhilikins! What a smasher you gave him. I thought you said you
didn't know nothin' about fightin'."
"I don't know much," responded Quincy. "There are a dozen men in Boston
who could do to me just exactly what I did to Bob Wood."