And Bill hustled them through the outskirts of the town, and into a road
that was fairly good going, and out to where snowladen fields and snow
weighted trees were on either hand before Jimmy's compassion swayed him
to suggest that after all there was no very great hurry.
"I'm sort of glad of that," commented the boy. "Bill's about winded.
He's my friend, and--and I don't like to see him puffin' like that. I'm
right glad you'd just as soon slow down. I was worried about Bill."
Jimmy thought about Bovolarapus, and then of Bill, and liked that boy.
"To-night," he said, as he settled himself into his seat, "Bill shall
have a box of chocolate caramels for dinner. And--say! son, are you
cold?"
"Not much," said the boy, looking up at him with a grin. "Just a little;
but I keep thinking about that fortune I'm to get and that sort of
keeps me warm."
Jimmy opened his overcoat and gathered his driver inside, and pulled up
the tattered lap robe and said cheerfully, "Sporting life, this, eh?"
But at the same time he was thinking regretfully of his ill-spent
afternoon, and more than ever convinced that jests of a public nature
were not worth while. And yet, in the midst of his personal discomfort,
he did not miss the enjoyment of a chuckle at the thought of what he had
left behind, and that fine harvest which the pompous Judge must reap. In
fact, he began to find a certain pleasure in his adventure; for the snow
stopped, the storm clouds moved restlessly, becoming ever more pallid,
and then the newly risen moon broke through and made all his
surroundings beautiful.
"The only things I miss," he muttered, "are sleigh bells and--Mary
Allen!"
"Mary Allen? Who's she?" The voice of the boy disturbed him.
"Mary Allen," said Jimmy grimly, "is a girl who isn't crazy to vote. She
likes horses. Probably she couldn't throw a brick. I've an idea she
never had a vote, and that if she had one she'd sell it as being the
quickest and easiest way to get rid of it. And--I hope to the Lord that
Mary Allen never visited Yimville before now, because if she hasn't,
I'll do all I can to spare her from ever going there in the future!"
"I can't seem to remember that haystack over there," said the boy, with
entire irrelevance, "but there's a house with a light in it, and--maybe
we'd best ask if we're on the right road. They'll tell you."
"Right road? Aren't you sure about it?" asked Jimmy, perturbed.
"Well, you see, it looks different with all this snow and--better ask
'em in there, I think."
"You go and ask them."
"I got ter watch old Bill. He runs away sometimes."
"I'll hold him. You ask."
The boy got down and advanced to the house where, after a time, a woman
appeared in response to his rapping and then, to point out the way, came
to the gate and thence to the road. She pointed with an extended arm to
the skyline and gave cautions about land marks at a point where three
roads met.
"If you'd taken the first road to the left instead of the second to the
right, down below there, you'd have been on the main track; but you're
not more than a half mile out of the way. And----" She stopped, suddenly
bent forward, and peered at Jimmy. "Oh, it's you, is it?" she said with
a toss of contempt. "You that believes women ain't got sense enough to
vote! Oh, I was down to the court house this afternoon and heard you!
And what's more, I can tell you it was mighty good for your precious
hide that they didn't catch you. If I'd known that it was you that
wanted to find the road to Mountain City I'd 'a' bit my tongue off
rather than let it tell you anything at all, you old puffed up smart
Alec! The only truth you ever told in your life, I'll bet, was when you
admitted that all lawyers is a lot of thieves. You, a judge! But let me
tell you that the women will get votes, and that when they do you
couldn't be elected judge at a chicken show. You're a mean-minded pig of
a man with no more manners than a pole cat! That's what the women who
heard you to-day think about you!"
And with that she turned, banged the gate, and hastened toward her house
where, in turn, she banged the door. Jimmy, who had said never a word,
but had gradually withered into the farthest corner of his seat, said,
"Whew! She likes me all right! I could tell that by what she said."
"Be you the man that made the speech in the court house?" asked the boy,
as he climbed into the sleigh and started Bill into action.
"My son," said Jimmy, "I am that very unfortunate man. But you don't
care, do you? You don't give a hang about voting, do you?"
"Not to-night," admitted the boy. "All I'm thinkin' about is how I'm to
get that ten dollars. It's a lot of money, ten dollars is. And--and," he
looked up at his companion rather speculatively, and added in a burst of
boyish confidence--"I don't think you're so bad as that woman said,
anyhow. I think I like you!"
Jimmy, feeling for the moment rather friendless, vented a fervent "Lord
bless you, son! We'll keep on being friends."
It began to seem to Jimmy that he was in for a chapter of accidents and
hardships. A snaffle gave away and they had to get out into the deep
snow and make repairs with fingers that were cold before the operation
was complete. They came to a stretch of unbroken road where the snow
was so deep that he had to climb out and break trail with the drift well
above his knees.
They toiled along for another mile then Jimmy decided that it was rather
a lonesome place; but philosophized that any place without either a
crowd, or Mary Allen, would be lonesome, and then further cheered
himself with the reflection that if he had Mary Allen with him he
wouldn't miss the crowd, or that if he had a crowd he'd not for a moment
miss Mary Allen, all of which made it rather a cheerful if paradoxical
world. Now that he had escaped the clutches of the irate militants of
Yimville, it wasn't such a bad predicament after all.
"Hello! What's that?" he exclaimed, sitting up with a jerk, as the boy
pulled the reins and yelled a loud "Whoa, Bill!"
It seemed as if something had gone awry with the prow of their ship.
They climbed out to investigate.
"They's a hame strap busted and Bill's loosin' all his furniture,"
explained the boy.
They got Bill's rig off to repair it as best they could. Again their
fingers got cold and their feet got cold, and the air got colder. Bill
was the only one who didn't seem to mind the delay and acted as if he
rather enjoyed a vacation.
"Now we're off again," said Jimmy, as they resumed their journey. "After
all, breaking a hame strap's nothing. Bill gets extra feed for that.
Anybody that can work hard enough to bust a hame strap has my approval.
I never did. You see, son, it was in a way rather lucky, because I'd
never have guessed what a good old nag Bill is if he hadn't proved it by
snapping that strap! People most always get acquainted through accident.
I certainly made a lot of acquaintances to-day! Also a lot of people got
acquainted with me who might never, never, never have really known just
what I was like!"
This pleasant reflection occupied his time for another mile, and then
suddenly Bill stumbled, his head went down and his heels flew up, he
seemed to stand on his neck for an instant, and then became a kicking,
obstreperous heap of horse and harness on the snow.
"Hooray!" shouted Jimmy, again springing into action. "Hooray! I'll sit
on his head, son, while you see how many pieces you can unfasten in his
harness. Keep away from his heels. Tackle his belly band first. That's
the ticket! Now see if you can get the tugs loose. Got 'em? Now stand
back. William, arise!! Whoo-e-e! Come up like baking powder or patent
yeast, don't you, Old Sport? There! There! Steady now. You're all right.
Concentrate your thoughts on food and it'll ease your mind. I've tried
it."
They restored Bill to his harness and backed him into the shafts.
"Now everything's all right again," said Jimmy, quite happily. "Just
think what tough luck it would have been if he'd broken his neck. It
doesn't pay to drive a horse with a broken neck. Just a waste of time.
Never buy a horse with a broken neck, son, unless you are in the tallow
business."
"Bill's all right, but--but--there seems to be somethin' wrong with the
shaft on this side. It wobbles," said the driver.
Jimmy went around to the other side and inspected it.
"Humph! Does wobble," he admitted. "It's cracked. However, that's all
right. Just think how bad it would have been if it had broken in two.
Now, as it is, maybe it'll last till we get to Mountain City, and I'll
pay for a new one. You see, partner, all these little things are sent
to try our fortitude and philosophy."
Again they moved ahead, and Jimmy whimsically homilized that it wasn't
how a shaft looked or felt that counted, but whether it did its work.
"Why, if everybody in this world who is cracked was chucked aside as
useless, I reckon there'd be mighty few folks left to do things," he
insisted. "There'd be milk without crocks, and jobs without men; girls
without sweethearts and churches without bells, son. Being cracked isn't
a sin, it's just being common!"
"Whoa! Whoa, Bill! She's busted for good now, Mister!"
The damaged shaft had snapped ominously and the harassed Bill this time
threatened to kick the whole exasperating outfit to kindling wood if his
heels held out long enough to accomplish such a worthy job.
"I'm getting used to this snow, now; I like it!" asserted Jimmy, as he
again got out to make an inspection. "We folks from Maryland always did
appreciate snow. It makes us understand the general air of chilliness
that seems to hover around New England Yanks. Well, looks as if we'd
have to steal a fence rail somewhere, boy, if we wish to continue this
delightful journey. Ah, there's a nice old stake-and-ridered layout over
there. I always knew they were the best kind of fences for country
roads. They do come in handy, all right. You hold William and explain
things to him while I grab one."
He waded into a ditch where the snow was waist high, floundered up a
bank, and selected a fairly straight fence rail that would serve his
purpose, and wallowed back with it. Once he fell and got snow up his
sleeves as high as his elbows.
"Now some folks would swear that was cold and uncomfortable," he
remarked as he shook it out in chunks, "but I like it, because I know
it's clean. It'd be awfully good in a cocktail just about now! Snow? Why
I've known time in a jay town down in Louisiana when I'd have cried with
joy for anything as cool as that to put in even plain water. 'We never
appreciate our blessings till we get 'em,' as the Mormon said just
before his seventeen wives swung him up on the limb of a tree."
For a time he watched Bill struggling along dejectedly, but was glad
that his improvised shaft support served and contemplated the passage
of time that must intervene before they reached Mountain City. And then
Bill again stumbled, and stopped as if in despair.
"I think maybe his feet's balled up," suggested the boy.
Jimmy climbed out and lifted Bill's extremities, hoof by hoof, patiently
digging off the snow stilts with his pocket knife, until at last he
found one hoof with a shoe missing.
"Well, well, well! No wonder you stumbled, old fellow," he sympathized.
"Cast a shoe, have you? Must have been back there where you fell! That's
too bad. You can't wear one of mine, or you'd be welcome. Must have
another put on up in Mountain City. Don't mention the expense. My firm's
rich. We often give horse shoes away on Christmas--paper ones, you
know!"
And the faithful and valiant Bill, relieved of one shoe and four big
collections of snow, hobbled forward again until he came to the foot of
a hill that seemed to stretch clear to the moon, and then for the first
time acted as if he had given up entirely and succumbed to misfortune.
"How far is Mountain City, now, son?" asked Jimmy, not without some
betrayal of anxiety.
"It's right up on top of that hill," said the boy, "But that hill's just
one mile and a half long."
"Good!" declared Jimmy, "you sit here and steer the beast, and I'll get
out and help and encourage him by leading him. I always was fond of
wading in snow. Cools off one's temper, walking in the snow does. If
every man who lost his temper had to walk a mile and a half uphill
through the snow, before he could say or do anything else, there would
never be a murder in this world, no divorces, and--by gosh!--maybe no
marriages either. That would be a calamity. Snow certainly does cool one
off."
An hour later when, after frequent rests and short but strenuous
efforts, they halted at the top of the hill and saw the main street of
Mountain City ahead of them, Jimmy said to the boy as he climbed back,
panting, into the sleigh, "Son, we learn by experience; but it's only
the wise and experienced man who knows that ignorance is bliss. There's
a lot of things in this life that I don't want to know anything at all
about in the future. Alpine climbing; politics, and votes for women are
all off my list. The only things I'd like to investigate are warm
drinks, hot grub, and the insides of a pair of dry socks, shoes and
breeches! And with that knowledge I'd be content. If you can find the
way to the hotel without straying, I'll forgive you for what you didn't
know about the way up here, and we'll begin all over again. Once more
we're on our merry way!"
Evidently Judge Granger was unknown to the hotel keeper of Mountain
City, for no comment was made on Jimmy's arrival and the place seemed
warm, comfortable, and luxurious after the snow drifts of the mountains.
Jimmy first phoned the railway station where he learned that Number
Sixteen was still belated but was expected through by midnight. Inasmuch
as Bad Fortune had been conquered by optimism, Good Fortune now smiled
upon the optimist. He purchased dry underwear, dry shoes, and dry
trousers for himself, and astonished the boy who had so valiantly
supported him by the presentation of a new suit of clothes, new red
flannel underwear, and new shoes.
"Lord! It'd never do for me to send you back home sniffling with a
cold," he explained to the lad. "Your maw would never forgive me, and--I
reckon I've got enough enemies amongst the women of this locality
without adding her to my list. Heaven help me if ever I go back there
again! They'd boil me alive in a soap kettle, and feed my fat to the
pigs! Now we shall look after the requirements of Rosinante, my little
Sancho Panza. Then we shall eat."
By liberal payment he succeeded in inducing the village wagon maker to
put in a new shaft that night, and the village blacksmith immediately
took on the work of replacing the lost shoe. Then he inspected the
stable where Bill was to sleep, bought a full bale of clean straw, a
double quantity of oats, and induced the hostler to give Bill an extra
rub and an extra blanket.
"Nothing's too good for us to-night, son," he explained to his admiring
supporter. "I feel like going on a bat. Just the same as Daniel probably
did after he got out of the lion's den. I'll bet ten to one that the
first thing he said after they hoisted him out was to ask the king what
he'd have to drink. Hospitality, my boy, is the guarantee of
appreciation. Both those who give and those who accept are satisfied,
which is unlike nearly all other bargains made in this world. This is
applicable to everything except jails. Remember my preachments after I
am gone, and you'll never get into the latter--that is--if you can run
fast enough!"
They still tell, in that hotel, of the meal he had specially prepared to
celebrate his escape from the Philistines. Long before it was through
the boy was speechless.
"Gee! Can't eat any more," he declared after a third piece of hot mince
pie.
"What's the matter? New suit of clothes too tight? Well, son, here's
another piece of advice," said Jimmy, as he helped himself. "Trouser
bands aren't made of rubber because all tailors are rich men who never
get hungry. By leaning toward the table and pretending to fool with your
serviette, it's easy to open the top buttons under your vest without
anybody noticing that you're going to make a fresh start. This is a form
of politeness that is necessary lest you alarm your host. Always do it
that way, and in the meantime, if you can think of one, tell a funny
story. It serves to distract attention from what you're doing, which is
the success of all card tricks, sleight-of-hand performances, and
getting a tummy full. Also that is probably the reason why napkins are
worn in the lap instead of in the neckband of your collar. Incidentally
I see there is a neglected raisin sticking to your chin, which leads me
to further observe that food is worn inside and not outside your face.
That's right! Don't waste it! I knew you wouldn't!"
He stopped suddenly, looked at his watch and said, "Great Scott! I
forgot one thing! How late does the Emporium keep open? Nine o'clock?
Oh, then I've got time. I must telephone Mister--Umm-m-mh!--Wade, did
you say his name was?"
The boy looked alarmed, but Jimmy explained. "You see he expected you
back to-night. He didn't know how bad the roads were. I must tell him
you'll not be back before to-morrow morning. What's the 'phone number?
37? Good. I'll go now and tell him. You stay here until I come back.
We're going to have coffee."
Jimmy hastened out to the 'phone and was thankful that it was
conveniently placed in a cabinet, for he was rather uncertain what might
be said, or, indeed, whether the telephone might not explode from heat
generated at the other end of the line. He got Wade without difficulty,
and again Fortune smiled.
"Mr. Wade," he said in his customary cheerful voice, "I made an address
at the court house this afternoon, and--er--the exigencies of my
departure led me to commandeer the services of your delivery boy, Tim, I
think his name is. What's that?"
He stopped, puzzled for the moment by the loud burst of laughter from
the other end of the line, and then a question, cautiously uttered as if
the speaker were afraid of being overheard, "Where are you, Judge?"
"Mountain City Hotel."
"Oh, up there, eh? Glad you got away safely. I heard that you were last
seen eloping with Tim and my nag Bill. And--can you hear
me?--Yes?--well, secretly I was tickled to death that you got away! This
thing of votes for women--you understand! Glad you handed it out
straight. Of course I can't say so out loud, but----"
"Thanks!" said the relieved Jimmy. "I'm sending Tim and Bill back in the
morning. Also I'd like to give Tim an envelope with a ten dollar note in
it to pay for the use of the rig if you'll accept it."
"S-s-s-h!" came back over the telephone. "Don't say a word! I'll not
have it! You can pay the keep for the boy and horse up there. That's all
I'll accept. That and a promise that you'll not give me away! It
wouldn't do for me to let it be known that--you understand, Judge!"
And Jimmy left the telephone box in an extraordinary good humor and
sauntered back to his coffee.
He insisted on inspecting the room that he had engaged for his guest,
and extravagantly ordered a fire for it. He insisted on his guest
retiring, but the guest, reduced to a state of adoration, rebelled and
saw him off when the train pulled out from Mountain City at 11:30 that
night.
Mr. James Gollop settled himself comfortably into a seat therein and
emitted a great sigh of content.
"As the copy book used to say at school," he thought, "'Count that day
lost whose low descending sun, views o'er thy work without some worthy
person done.' And if in one place in his bailiwick I haven't fried that
codfish Granger to a crisp, it's not because I haven't been industrious.
I've been as busy as a horse with a wooden leg trying to win the
Derby!"