"Did you ever eat a mussel, Shawn?"
"No, sir, I didn't think they were good to eat."
"Well, lots of things are made good to eat by the way you cook 'em. I
want you to bale out the boat and we'll go up to the head of the bar and
drop the grab-hooks along in shoal water and after we get a good dozen,
small broilin' size, I'm goin' to show you how to cook 'em. A mussel, my
boy, is a sort of lefthanded cousin to an oyster, only he lacks the salt
water and a good many of the finer points; a right smart like a good
many men, and I want to tell you another thing--one of the finest pearls
that sold in a jewelry store in Cincinnati for fifteen hundred dollars,
was taken from a mussel that come out of the Ohio river."
"Luke Walters found it at Craig's bar," said Shawn.
"The same," said Burney.
"We might boil a bushel or two down and run a chance of finding
somethin'; there's no tellin'. Git one of them lemons out of the box and
the wire broiler and a stew-pan."
Shawn came around with the boat, Burney came out with the drag-hooks.
Shawn sat at the oars and they started up the stream. The white pebbles
on the shore gleamed in the rosy sunlight. A kingfisher perched on a
rock by the stream, tilted his head to the side in a quizzical way and
watched the boat approach. The leaves from the tall sycamores and
cottonwoods came tumbling down to the edge of the water as if seeking to
embark upon a journey southward. A little creek came pouring its crystal
waters into the great river. Just above the mouth of the creek, some boy
had built a miniature mill-race, and the water coursing over the little
wheel murmured tenderly and soothingly upon the ear.
"Shawn, there's many a boy in the city would like to have a plaything
like that. Did you notice how nice and keerful-like he has made that dam
and the shoot? I'll tell you, a country boy knows how to look out for
his fun. You'll see the day when the old water-mill will be a thing of
the past; steam will run 'em out, as it has run out the flat-boat. In
the old days I used to make the flat-boat trip to New Orleans and walk
all the way back and help _cordelle_ the boat, they brought back their
flat-boats in them days--think of doing that now. But I hate to see the
water-mills go. There's one out on Eagle that has been run by five
generations, and they can't make flour by steam as good as Amos Kirby's
flour. Amos' father had the process down, it seems, better than any of
them. The old man was knowed all over that country, not only for his
good flour, but for his good deeds and his kindness to the poor, and
that's a mighty good name to leave behind. He always had a houseful of
company, and always got drunk fust, so that the rest of his company
would feel at home. I et dinner thar once, and they wound up with some
cake they called egg-kisses. You didn't have to chaw 'em--you just
throwed 'em up in the roof of your mouth and let 'em melt--pull over
thar to the head of the bar."
Shawn took off his shoes, and bare-footed, with trousers rolled to his
knees, began the hunt for mussels around the bar, as Burney threw out
the drag-hooks in deeper water. Burney was drifting slowly down the
stream and Shawn could see him bringing up the hooks and putting the
mussels inside the boat. Shawn found them plentiful around the edge of
the bar, and when Burney came back they had the boat well filled.
"Now, Shawn, we're goin' over to the shore and I am goin' to give you a
feast." Burney made a wood fire, and after taking the mussels from the
shell, put them in the stew-pan and let them boil for a short time, then
putting them on the broiler, he held them over the live wood coals.
"Squeeze a little of that lemon juice over them, Shawn, and season 'em
up--now try one." Shawn took one of them and nibbled it gingerly around
the edges.
"What do you think of 'em?"
"Did you ever drink out of a cow-track, Mr. Burney?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, you never missed much," said Shawn.
They rowed down to the shanty-boat and Burney built a big fire on the
shore. He got out his big kettle and said, "We're goin' to boil these
out and look for a pearl."
Under the roaring fire the kettle began to sing. Shawn watched Burney as
he filled the big pot with mussels. "You've got to boil them until the
meat comes away from the shell and is boiled all to smithereens, before
you've a chance to git a pearl."
It was late afternoon before the kettle was taken off. Burney began to
drain off the water and take out the shells. All of the substance in the
bottom of the kettle was subjected to a careful inspection as he drew
it forth.
[Illustration: Burney began to take out the shells.]
Suddenly Burney held his hand up toward the sun and exclaimed, "Come
here, quick, Shawn, I've found one--I don't know how good, but it's a
pearl!" He rubbed it between his hands and wiped it off carefully on his
sleeve. "That tiny pink spot on the side of it is a blemish that will
never come out, but I think it is a pearl of some value. I'm goin' to
give it to you; maybe you can sell it or give it to some girl some
day--leastwise, Shawn, we'll put in the spare time boilin' down a few
more of 'em."
Shawn took the pearl, his cheeks were aglow under the stress of the
find. "Oh, Mr. Burney, I'll keep it always for a luck stone."