IT was a warm morning on the first day of June. Pole Baker lay on the
thick grass, near the door of the court-house, talking to Jim Carden, a
little shoemaker from Darley.
“Didn't Nelson Floyd go in the court-house jest now?” Pole asked.
“Yes,” said the shoemaker, in his high voice; “him an' Colonel Price was
settin' here fer half an' hour 'fore you come, talkin' about a
trade. Price is tryin' to sell 'im his plantation, an' that big house
completely furnished. I'd rather see Floyd's eyes when he's on a trade
than anything I ever looked at. They shine like twin stars. But I don't
believe they'll trade. They are too far apart.”
“This section is chock full o' keen men, from the highest to the
lowest,” remarked Pole. “Old settlers say that a long time ago seven
Jews settled here, intendin' to git rich, an' that these mountain men
got all they had, an' the Jews literally starved to death. Thar hain't
been one in the county since.”
“Our folks certainly are hard to down,” said Carden. “Do you know that
long, slim chap in front o' Floyd's store? That's one o' the Bowen boys,
from Gilmer--I mean the feller at the covered wagon.”
“Know 'im? I reckon I do,” Pole laughed, “That's Alf Bowen. I had a
round with 'im one day. It was in the fall o' the year, an' they was so
busy at Mayhew & Floyd's that they pulled me into service. I'm a purty
good salesman when I'm about half loaded. Well, Alf come in leadin' his
little gal by the hand, an' said he wanted to fit 'er out in a cloak.
Joe Peters hung to 'im fer half an' hour, but everything he'd show the
feller was too high, or not good enough, an Joe switched 'im off on me.
Joe was afeard ef the skunk went out that some more that was with 'im
would follow, an' _they_ was buyin' a little, now an' then. Well, do you
know, Jim, I made up my mind I'd sell that feller a cloak ef I had to do
it below cost an' make up the difference myself. Old Uncle Abner Daniel
was thar settin' on a nail-keg, a-spittin' an' a-chawin' an' pokin'
fun at me. As I was passin' 'im he cocked his eye up an' said, said he:
'Pole, I'll bet you a segar you cayn't sell 'im.' 'Done,' said I. 'I'll
go you,' an' I set to work in earnest. Alf had sorter intimated that
six dollars was his cloak-limit, an' I drawed Joe Peters round behind a
stack o' boxes, an' axed 'im ef we had anything as low as that. Joe said
no, we didn't, but, said he, 'sometimes when we git short, we run into
Glenn's store next door an' take out an' article on trial, an' ef we
sell it, we git it at cost.' Well, I happened to know that Glenn had
some cloaks in, so I went back to my customer an' told 'im that we had
jest got in a box o' cloaks the day before, but they was in the cellar
unopened, an' ef he'd wait a minute, I'd bust the box an' see ef thar
was any low-priced cloaks in the lot. Bowen's eyes sorter danced, an' he
said he had plenty o' time. So I picked up a hammer an' run down in the
cellar. I knocked at an empty box, an' kicked over a barrel or two, an'
then scooted out at the back door an' round into Glenn's shebang. 'Sam,'
said I, 'have you got a cloak that you kin let us have so we kin sell
it at six dollars an' make any profit?' He studied a minute, an' then
he said he 'lowed he had jest the thing, an' he went an' got one an'
fetched it to me. 'This un,' said he, 'is all right except this little
ripped place here under the arm, but any woman kin fix that in a minute.
I kin let you have it, Pole, fer five-fifty.' Well, sir, I grabbed it
an' darted back into our cellar, knocked once or twice more with the
hammer, an' run up to Alf an' the gal. 'Here's one,' said I. 'It's an
eight-dollar garment, but in drawin' it out o' the box jest now I ripped
it a little, but any woman kin fix that in a minute. Now, bein' as it's
_you_, Alf,' said I, 'an' we want yore trade, I'll make it to you at
first cost without the freight from Baltimore. I kin give you this
thing, Alf,' said I, fer six dollars.'
“Well, sir, I thought I had 'im, an' was winkin' at Uncle Ab, when Bowen
sorter sniffed an' stuck his long finger through the hole. 'Shucks!'
said he. 'Sam Glenn offered me that cloak fer four dollars an' a half
two weeks ago. I could 'a' got it fer four, but I wouldn't have it. It's
moth-et.'”
Carden threw himself back on the grass and laughed. “What the devil did
you do?” he asked.
“Do?--nothin'. What could I do? I jest grinned an' acknowledged the
corn. The joke was agin me. An' the funny part of it was the feller was
so dead in earnest he didn't see anything to laugh at. Ef I'd a-been in
his place I'd 'a' hollered.”
“Did you give Uncle Ab his cigar?” the shoemaker asked.
“I offered it to 'im, Jim, but he wouldn't take it. I axed 'im why.
'Beca'se,' said he, 'I was bettin' on a certainty.' 'How's that?' said
I. 'Why,' said he, 'I seed Alf Bowen buy a cloak fer that gal at the
fire sale over at Darley two weeks ago. He was just lookin' around to
see ef he'd got bit.'”
Pole saw Floyd coming out of the court-house and went to him. “I
understand you an' Price are on a deal,” he said.
“Yes, but we are far apart,” Floyd answered, pleasantly. “He offers
me his entire two thousand acres and furnished house for twenty-five
thousand. As I told him, Pole, I could draw the money out of other
investments an' take the property, but I couldn't see profit in it above
twenty thousand.”
“It's wuth all he asks fer it,” Pole said, wisely.
“I know it is, to any man who wants to live on it, but if I buy it, I'd
have to hire a good man to manage it, and, altogether, I can't see my
way to put more than twenty thousand in it. He's anxious to sell. He and
his wife want to move to Atlanta, to be with their married daughter.”
They were walking towards Floyd's store, and Pole paused in the street.
“Are you busy right now, Nelson?” he asked, his face wearing a serious
look.
“Not at all, Pole.”
“Well, I've got some'n' to say to you, Nelson. I'm goin' to acknowledge
that thar's one thing I've wanted to do fer you more, by hunkey, than
anything in the world. Nelson, I've always hoped that I'd run across
some clew that 'ud eventually lead to you findin' out who yore kin are.”
“That's good of you, Pole,” responded Floyd, in a sincere tone. “It is
a thing I am more interested in than anything else in the world.” The
young merchant laughed mechanically. “Pole, if the lowest-looking tramp
you ever saw in your life were to come here, and I found out he was even
a distant cousin of mine, I'd look on him with reverence. I'd fit him
out in new clothes and give him money, and never want to lose sight
of him. Why I feel that way I don't know, but it is planted deep down
inside.”
“I knew you felt that away,” said Pole, “and, as I say, I want to help.
Now, Nelson, all my life folks has said I was keen about tracin' things
out. In my moonshinin' day, an' since then, in helpin' old Ab Daniel an'
Alan Bishop in that timber deal, an' in one way an' another, I've always
been good at readin' men an' the'r faces an' voices. Now, I reckon
what Captain Duncan said that day about his talk with that feller
Floyd--Henry A. Floyd--in Atlanta went in at one o' yore ears an' out at
t'other, but it didn't with me. I've studied about that thing night an'
day ever since, an' yesterday I had a talk with Duncan. I made 'im go
over what him an' Floyd said, word fer word, an' I'm here to tell you
that I want yore consent to see that old man myself. I've got to go down
to the United States court to-morrow to see Judge Spence, about leniency
in old Paxton's moonshine case, an' I'll have time on my hands. I wish
you'd consent to let me talk, in a roundabout way, of course, to that
man Floyd. Captain Duncan made a big mistake in sayin' so much about
yore bad luck in yore childhood an' nothin' about what you've since made
of yourself. A man as pore as Floyd is, an' as proud, wouldn't care to
rake up kin with a man like Duncan showed you to be. The captain had an
idea that ef he got the old chap's pity up he'd find out what he wanted
to know, but a man of that stripe don't pity no unfortunate man nor want
to claim kin with 'im. From the way Duncan talked to me, I have an idea
that old man was keepin' back some'n'.”
Floyd was looking at his rough friend with eyes full of emotion. “I'd
rather have you do a thing of that kind, Pole, than any man alive,” he
said. “And I can trust your judgment and tact, too. I confess I am not
hopeful in that particular direction, but if you want to see the man,
why, do it. I certainly appreciate your interest, and next time I hope
you will not wait to ask my consent. I trust the whole matter to you.”
“Well,” the mountaineer smiled, “I may be away off in my calculations,
and make nothin' by it, but I want to try my hand. Thar comes Colonel
Price. I'll bet a new hat he'll come to yore offer before long. You
jest keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't bring up the subject of yore own
accord; he'll do the talkin'.”