WELL I hear that Sandy McHugh tuck his whippin' like a little man last
night,” Pole remarked to Captain Duncan and Floyd the next morning at the
store. “They say he made strong promises to reform, an', gentlemen, I'm
here to tell you that I believe them White Caps are doin' a purty
good work. The lickin' Sandy got last night from his neighbors an'
well-wishers towards him an' his family is a-goin' to work a bigger
change in him than a long trial at court at the state's expense.”
“Well, they say he confessed to the stealing,” said the planter. “And a
thing like that certainly ought to be punished in some way.”
“I never stold but once in my life,” Baker laughed, reminiscently, “an'
I was sorter drawed into that. I was goin' with a Tennessee drover down
to Atlanta with a car o' hosses. Old Uncle Abner Daniel was along,
an' me'n him always was sorter thick. We come to Big Shanty, whar the
conductor told us we'd barely have time to run out to the side o' the
road an' buy a snack to eat, an' me'n Uncle Ab made a dash fer the
lunch-counter, run by a bald-headed Dutchman with a bay-window on 'im.
Thar was a pile o' sandwiches on the counter marked ten cents apiece,
an' we bought two. I noticed Uncle Ab sorter twist his face around when
he looked in his'n, an' then I seed that the ham inside of 'em both
wasn't any thicker'n a piece o' paper.
“'Look here, Pole' said Uncle Ab, 'I bought a _sandwich_; I didn't agree
to pay that fat thief ten cents o' my hard money fer two pieces o' bread
that don't even smell o' meat.'
“'Well, what you goin' to do about it?' says I.
“'Do about it?' says he, an' then he sorter winked, an' as the Dutchman
had turned to his stove whar he was fryin' some eggs, Uncle Ab stuck out
his long fingers an slid a slice o' ham out o' the top sandwich in the
stack an' slyly laid it betwixt his bread. I deprived the one under it
of all the substance it held, an' me'n Uncle Ab was munchin' away when
two passengers, a big man an' a little, sawed-off one, run up jest as
the whistle blowed. They throwed down the'r dimes an' grabbed the
two top sandwiches, an' we all made a break fer the train an' got in
together. The fellers set right behind me'n Uncle Ab, an' when they
begun to eat you never heard sech cussin'. 'Damn it, thar hain't a bit
o' ham in mine!' the big feller said; an' then the little 'un ripped out
an oath, an' reached up an' tried to git at the bell-cord. 'The damn
pot-gutted thief didn't even _grease_ mine,' he said, an' they both
raised windows an' looked back an' shook the'r fists an' swore they'd
kill that Dutchman the next time they seed 'im.
“I thought I'd actually die laughin'. Uncle Ab set thar with the
straightest face you ever looked at, but his eyes was twinklin' like
stars peepin' through wet clouds.
“Finally he said, 'Pole,' said he, 'this experience ort to teach us a
lesson. You cayn't down wrong with wrong. We started in to beat that
swindler at his game, an' ended up by robbin' two hungry an' honest
wayfarers.'”
Floyd and Captain Duncan laughed. It seemed that there was a disposition
on the part of both Pole and the planter not to allude to the unpleasant
affair of the preceding day, though Floyd, in his sensitive attitude in
regard to it, more than once fancied it was in their minds.
“There is a personal matter, Floyd,” said Duncan, after a silence of
several minutes, “that I have been wanting to speak to you about. It is
in regard to your parentage. I've heard that you are greatly interested
in it and would like to have it cleared up.”
“I confess it, captain,” Floyd said. “I suppose that is a feeling that
would be natural to any one placed as I am.”
“Most decidedly,” Duncan agreed. “And it is my opinion that when you do
discover what you are looking for, it will all seem so simple and plain
that you will wonder how you could have missed it so long. I don't think
it is possible for a thing like that to remain hidden always.”
“It certainly has foiled me, captain,” Floyd replied. “I have spent
more money and made more effort than you would dream of, but met with
disappointment on every hand.”
“Perhaps you didn't look close enough at home,” said Duncan. “I confess
the thing has interested me a good deal, and the more I see of you,
and observe your pluck and courage, the more I would like to see you
discover what you want.”
“Thank you, captain,” Floyd said, earnestly.
“I'm going to confess something else, too,” the planter went on, “now
that I see you don't resent my interest. The truth is, I had a talk with
Colonel Price about it. You know he understands more about genealogy and
family histories than any man in the county. I asked him if he didn't
think that your given name, 'Nelson,' might not tend to show that you
were, in some way, related to a family by that name. Price agreed with
me that it was likely, and then it flashed on me that I knew a man down
in Atlanta by the name of Floyd--Henry A. Floyd--whose mother was one of
the South Carolina Nelsons.”
“Is it possible?” the young merchant asked, leaning forward in almost
breathless interest.
“Yes, and he is a man of good standing, but very unsuccessful
financially--a man who was educated for the law, and failed at it,
and now, I believe, lives only on the income from a big farm in Bartow
County. I knew him quite well when we were both young men; but he never
married, and of late years he seems soured against everybody. I met
him at the Capitol in Atlanta only last week, and tried to get him
interested in your family matter. At first, from his evident surprise
that there could be any one bearing both those names up here, I thought
he was going to reveal something that would aid you. But after asking me
three or four questions about you, he closed up, and that was the end of
it. He said he knew nothing of your parentage, but that he was sure you
were no kin of his.”
“Say, captain”--Pole Baker broke into the conversation--“would you mind
tellin' me right here what you told 'im about Nelson? I've seed the old
cuss; I've been on his farm; I once thought about rentin' land from 'im.
Did you tell 'im Nelson was a man of high standing here--that he was
about the richest young chap in the county an' got more grit than a
car-load o' sand-paper?”
“No,” Duncan laughed. “He didn't let me get that far, Baker. In hopes of
rousing his sympathy, I reckon I laid a good deal of stress on Floyd's
early misfortune. Of course, I was going to tell him all about you,
Floyd, but, as I say, he didn't give me a good chance.”
“You were quite right, captain,” Floyd returned. “Pole would have made
me appear ridiculous.”
“Huh! I'd a got more out o' the old fossil than Captain Duncan did,”
Pole declared, positively, “You knowed how to manage men in the war,
captain, an' you are purty good at bossin' an overseer when you are at a
hotel in Florida an' he's fillin' a sack in yore corn-crib at home, but
I'll bet my hat you didn't tackle that feller right. Knowing that he
was down in the mouth, unlucky, an' generally soured agin the world, I'd
never a-tried to git 'im interested in pore kin he'd never seed. I'll
bet a quart o' rye to two fingers o' spilt cider that he'd 'a' talked
out o' t'other side o' his mouth ef I'd a been thar to sorter show 'im
the kind o' kin that he mought scrape up ef he turned his hand to it.
You let me run agin that old skunk, an' I'll have him settin' up the
drinks an' axin' me more questions than a Dutchman l'arnin' to talk our
language. Shucks! I'm jest a mountain-scrub, but I know human natur'.
Thar comes old Mayhew. He'll order us out--it's treat, trade, or travel
with that old skunk.”