Christmas Eve On Lonesome And Other Stories

By John Fox, Jr. 

Illustrated By F. C. Yohn, A. I. Keller, W. A. Rogers, and H. C. Ransom

1911

CONTENTS

 Christmas Eve On Lonesome

 The Army Of The Callahan

 The Pardon Of Becky Day

 A Crisis For The Guard

 Christmas Night With Satan

ILLUSTRATIONS

 Captain Wells descended with no little majesty and "biffed" him

 "Speak up, nigger!"

 Satan would drop the coin and get a ball for himself

TO THOMAS NELSON PAGE

CHRISTMAS EVE ON LONESOME

It was Christmas Eve on Lonesome. But nobody on Lonesome knew that itwas Christmas Eve, although a child of the outer world could haveguessed it, even out in those wilds where Lonesome slipped from one lonelog cabin high up the steeps, down through a stretch of jungled darknessto another lone cabin at the mouth of the stream. 

There was the holy hush in the gray twilight that comes only onChristmas Eve. There were the big flakes of snow that fell as they neverfall except on Christmas Eve. There was a snowy man on horseback in abig coat, and with saddle-pockets that might have been bursting withtoys for children in the little cabin at the head of the stream. 

But not even he knew that it was Christmas Eve. He was thinking ofChristmas Eve, but it was of the Christmas Eve of the year before, whenhe sat in prison with a hundred other men in stripes, and listened tothe chaplain talk of peace and good will to all men upon earth, when hehad forgotten all men upon earth but one, and had only hatred in hisheart for him. 

"Vengeance is mine! saith the Lord. "

That was what the chaplain had thundered at him. And then, as now, hethought of the enemy who had betrayed him to the law, and had sworn awayhis liberty, and had robbed him of everything in life except a fiercelonging for the day when he could strike back and strike to kill. Andthen, while he looked back hard into the chaplain's eyes, and now, whilehe splashed through the yellow mud thinking of that Christmas Eve, Buckshook his head; and then, as now, his sullen heart answered:

"Mine!"

The big flakes drifted to crotch and twig and limb. They gathered on thebrim of Buck's slouch hat, filled out the wrinkles in his big coat, whitened his hair and his long mustache, and sifted into the yellow, twisting path that guided his horse's feet. 

High above he could see through the whirling snow now and then the gleamof a red star. He knew it was the light from his enemy's window; butsomehow the chaplain's voice kept ringing in his ears, and every time hesaw the light he couldn't help thinking of the story of the Star thatthe chaplain told that Christmas Eve, and he dropped his eyes by and by, so as not to see it again, and rode on until the light shone in hisface. 

Then he led his horse up a little ravine and hitched it among the snowyholly and rhododendrons, and slipped toward the light. There was a dogsomewhere, of course; and like a thief he climbed over the lowrail-fence and stole through the tall snow-wet grass until he leanedagainst an apple-tree with the sill of the window two feet above thelevel of his eyes. 

Reaching above him, he caught a stout limb and dragged himself up to acrotch of the tree. A mass of snow slipped softly to the earth. Thebranch creaked above the light wind; around the corner of the house adog growled and he sat still. 

He had waited three long years and he had ridden two hard nights andlain out two cold days in the woods for this. 

And presently he reached out very carefully, and noiselessly broke leafand branch and twig until a passage was cleared for his eye and for thepoint of the pistol that was gripped in his right hand. 

A woman was just disappearing through the kitchen door, and he peeredcautiously and saw nothing but darting shadows. From one corner a shadowloomed suddenly out in human shape. Buck saw the shadowed gesture of anarm, and he cocked his pistol. That shadow was his man, and in a momenthe would be in a chair in the chimney corner to smoke his pipe, maybe--his last pipe. 

Buck smiled--pure hatred made him smile--but it was mean, a mean andsorry thing to shoot this man in the back, dog though he was; and nowthat the moment had come a wave of sickening shame ran through Buck. Noone of his name had ever done that before; but this man and his peoplehad, and with their own lips they had framed palliation for him. Whatwas fair for one was fair for the other they always said. A poor mancouldn't fight money in the courts; and so they had shot from the brush, and that was why they were rich now and Buck was poor--why his enemy wassafe at home, and he was out here, homeless, in the apple-tree. 

Buck thought of all this, but it was no use. The shadow slouchedsuddenly and disappeared; and Buck was glad. With a gritting oathbetween his chattering teeth he pulled his pistol in and thrust one legdown to swing from the tree--he would meet him face to face next day andkill him like a man--and there he hung as rigid as though the cold hadsuddenly turned him, blood, bones, and marrow, into ice. 

The door had opened, and full in the firelight stood the girl who he hadheard was dead. He knew now how and why that word was sent him. And nowshe who had been his sweetheart stood before him--the wife of the man hemeant to kill. 

Her lips moved--he thought he could tell what she said: "Git up, Jim, git up!" Then she went back. 

A flame flared up within him now that must have come straight from thedevil's forge. Again the shadows played over the ceiling. His teethgrated as he cocked his pistol, and pointed it down the beam of lightthat shot into the heart of the apple-tree, and waited. 

The shadow of a head shot along the rafters and over the fireplace. Itwas a madman clutching the butt of the pistol now, and as his eye caughtthe glinting sight and his heart thumped, there stepped into the squarelight of the window--a child!

It was a boy with yellow tumbled hair, and he had a puppy in his arms. In front of the fire the little fellow dropped the dog, and they beganto play. 

"Yap! yap! yap!"

Buck could hear the shrill barking of the fat little dog, and the joyousshrieks of the child as he made his playfellow chase his tail round andround or tumbled him head over heels on the floor. It was the firstchild Buck had seen for three years; it was _his_ child and _hers_;and, in the apple-tree, Buck watched fixedly. 

They were down on the floor now, rolling over and over together; and hewatched them until the child grew tired and turned his face to the fireand lay still--looking into it. Buck could see his eyes close presently, and then the puppy crept closer, put his head on his playmate's chest, and the two lay thus asleep. 

And still Buck looked--his clasp loosening on his pistol and his lipsloosening under his stiff mustache--and kept looking until the dooropened again and the woman crossed the floor. A flood of light flashedsuddenly on the snow, barely touching the snow-hung tips of theapple-tree, and he saw her in the doorway--saw her look anxiously intothe darkness--look and listen a long while. 

Buck dropped noiselessly to the snow when she closed the door. Hewondered what they would think when they saw his tracks in the snow nextmorning; and then he realized that they would be covered before morning. 

As he started up the ravine where his horse was he heard the clink ofmetal down the road and the splash of a horse's hoofs in the soft mud, and he sank down behind a holly-bush. 

Again the light from the cabin flashed out on the snow. 

"That you, Jim?"

"Yep!"

And then the child's voice: "Has oo dot thum tandy?"

"Yep!"

The cheery answer rang out almost at Buck's ear, and Jim passed deathwaiting for him behind the bush which his left foot brushed, shaking thesnow from the red berries down on the crouching figure beneath. 

Once only, far down the dark jungled way, with the underlying streak ofyellow that was leading him whither, God only knew--once only Bucklooked back. There was the red light gleaming faintly through themoonlit flakes of snow. Once more he thought of the Star, and once morethe chaplain's voice came back to him. 

"Mine!" saith the Lord. 

Just how, Buck could not see with himself in the snow and _him_ backthere for life with her and the child, but some strange impulse made himbare his head. 

"Yourn, " said Buck grimly. 

But nobody on Lonesome--not even Buck--knew that it was Christmas Eve. 

THE ARMY OF THE CALLAHAN

I

The dreaded message had come. The lank messenger, who had brought itfrom over Black Mountain, dropped into a chair by the stove and sank histeeth into a great hunk of yellow cheese. "Flitter Bill" Richmondwaddled from behind his counter, and out on the little platform in frontof his cross-roads store. Out there was a group of earth-stainedcountrymen, lounging against the rickety fence or swinging on it, theirheels clear of the ground, all whittling, chewing, and talking thematter over. All looked up at Bill, and he looked down at them, runninghis eye keenly from one to another until he came to one powerful youngfellow loosely bent over a wagon-tongue. Even on him, Bill's eyes stayedbut a moment, and then were lifted higher in anxious thought. 

The message had come at last, and the man who brought it had heard itfall from Black Tom's own lips. The "wild Jay-Hawkers of Kaintuck" werecoming over into Virginia to get Flitter Bill's store, for they weremountain Unionists and Bill was a valley rebel and lawful prey. It waspast belief. So long had he prospered, and so well, that Bill had cometo feel that he sat safe in the hollow of God's hand. But he now musthave protection--and at once--from the hand of man. 

Roaring Fork sang lustily through the rhododendrons. To the north yawned"the Gap" through the Cumberland Mountains. "Callahan's Nose, " a hugegray rock, showed plain in the clear air, high above the young foliage, and under it, and on up the rocky chasm, flashed Flitter Bill's keenmind, reaching out for help. 

Now, from Virginia to Alabama the Southern mountaineer was a Yankee, because the national spirit of 1776, getting fresh impetus in 1812 andnew life from the Mexican War, had never died out in the hills. Mostlikely it would never have died out, anyway; for, the world over, anyseed of character, individual or national, that is once dropped betweenlofty summits brings forth its kind, with deathless tenacity, year afteryear. Only, in the Kentucky mountains, there were more slaveholders thanelsewhere in the mountains in the South. These, naturally, fought fortheir slaves, and the division thus made the war personal and terriblebetween the slaveholders who dared to stay at home, and the Union, "Home Guards" who organized to drive them away. In Bill's littleVirginia valley, of course, most of the sturdy farmers had shoulderedConfederate muskets and gone to the war. Those who had stayed at homewere, like Bill, Confederate in sympathy, but they lived in safety downthe valley, while Bill traded and fattened just opposite the Gap, through which a wild road ran over into the wild Kentucky hills. ThereinBill's danger lay; for, just at this time, the Harlan Home Guard underBlack Tom, having cleared those hills, were making ready, like the Pictand Scot of olden days, to descend on the Virginia valley and smite thelowland rebels at the mouth of the Gap. Of the "stay-at-homes, " and thedeserters roundabout, there were many, very many, who would "stand in"with any man who would keep their bellies full, but they were well-nighworthless even with a leader, and, without a leader, of no good at all. Flitter Bill must find a leader for them, and anywhere than in his ownfat self, for a leader of men Bill was not born to be, nor could he seea leader among the men before him. And so, standing there one earlymorning in the spring of 1865, with uplifted gaze, it was no surprise tohim--the coincidence, indeed, became at once one of the articles ofperfect faith in his own star--that he should see afar off, a blackslouch hat and a jogging gray horse rise above a little knoll that wasin line with the mouth of the Gap. At once he crossed his hands over hischubby stomach with a pious sigh, and at once a plan of action began towhirl in his little round head. Before man and beast were in full viewthe work was done, the hands were unclasped, and Flitter Bill, with achuckle, had slowly risen, and was waddling back to his desk in thestore. 

It was a pompous old buck who was bearing down on the old gray horse, and under the slouch hat with its flapping brim--one Mayhall Wells, byname. There were but few strands of gray in his thick blue-black hair, though his years were rounding half a century, and he sat the old nagwith erect dignity and perfect ease. His bearded mouth showed vanityimmeasurable, and suggested a strength of will that his eyes--the realseat of power--denied, for, while shrewd and keen, they were unsteady. In reality, he was a great coward, though strong as an ox, and whippingwith ease every man who could force him into a fight. So that, in thewhole man, a sensitive observer would have felt a peculiar pathos, asthough nature had given him a desire to be, and no power to become, andhad then sent him on his zigzag way, never to dream wherein his troublelay. 

"Mornin', gentle_men_!"

"Mornin', Mayhall!"

All nodded and spoke except Hence Sturgill on the wagon-tongue, whostopped whittling, and merely looked at the big man with narrowing eyes. 

Tallow Dick, a yellow slave, appeared at the corner of the store, andthe old buck beckoned him to come and hitch his horse. Flitter Bill hadreappeared on the stoop with a piece of white paper in his hand. Thelank messenger sagged in the doorway behind him, ready to start forhome. 

"Mornin' _Captain_ Wells, " said Bill, with great respect. Every manheard the title, stopped his tongue and his knife-blade, and raised hiseyes; a few smiled--Hence Sturgill grinned. Mayhall stared, and Bill'sleft eye closed and opened with lightning quickness in a most portentouswink. Mayhall straightened his shoulders--seeing the game, as did thecrowd at once: Flitter Bill was impressing that messenger in case he hadsome dangerous card up his sleeve. 

"_Captain_ Wells, " Bill repeated significantly, "I'm sorry to say yo'new uniform has not arrived yet. I am expecting it to-morrow. " Mayhalltoed the line with soldierly promptness. 

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, suh--sorry to hear it, suh, " he said, with slow, measured speech. "My men are comin' in fast, and you canhardly realize er--er what it means to an old soldier er--er not tohave--er--" And Mayhall's answering wink was portentous. 

"My friend here is from over in Kaintucky, and the Harlan Home Gyardover there, he says, is a-making some threats. "

Mayhall laughed. 

"So I have heerd--so I have heerd. " He turned to the messenger. "Weshall be ready fer 'em, suh, ready fer 'em with a thousand men--onethousand men, suh, right hyeh in the Gap--right hyeh in the Gap. Let 'emcome on--let 'em come on!" Mayhall began to rub his hands together asthough the conflict were close at hand, and the mountaineer slapped onethigh heartily. "Good for you! Give 'em hell!" He was about to slapMayhall on the shoulder and call him "pardner, " when Flitter Billcoughed, and Mayhall lifted his chin. 

"Captain Wells?" said Bill. 

"Captain Wells, " repeated Mayhall with a stiff salutation, and themessenger from over Black Mountain fell back with an apologetic laugh. Afew minutes later both Mayhall and Flitter Bill saw him shaking hishead, as he started homeward toward the Gap. Bill laughed silently, butMayhall had grown grave. The fun was over and he beckoned Bill insidethe store. 

"Misto Richmond, " he said, with hesitancy and an entire change of toneand manner, "I am afeerd I ain't goin' to be able to pay you that littleamount I owe you, but if you can give me a little mo' time--"

"Captain Wells, " interrupted Bill slowly, and again Mayhall stared hardat him, "as betwixt friends, as have been pussonal friends fer nigh ontotwenty year, I hope you won't mention that little matter to meag'in--until I mentions it to you. "

"But, Misto Richmond, Hence Sturgill out thar says as how he heerd yousay that if I didn't pay--"

"_Captain_ Wells, " interrupted Bill again and again Mayhall staredhard--it was strange that Bill could have formed the habit of callinghim "Captain" in so short a time--"yestiddy is not to-day, is it? Andto-day is not to-morrow? I axe you--have I said one word about thatlittle matter _to-day?_ Well, borrow not from yestiddy nor to-morrow, tomake trouble fer to-day. There is other things fer to-day, CaptainWells. "

Mayhall turned here. 

"Misto Richmond, " he said, with great earnestness, "you may not know it, but three times since thet long-legged jay-hawker's been gone you hevplainly--and if my ears do not deceive me, an' they never hev--you haveplainly called me '_Captain_ Wells. ' I knowed yo' little trick whilst hewas hyeh, fer I knowed whut the feller had come to tell ye; but sincehe's been gone, three times, Misto Richmond--"

"Yes, " drawled Bill, with an unction that was strangely sweet toMayhall's wondering ears, "an' I do it ag'in, _Captain_ Wells. "

"An' may I axe you, " said Mayhall, ruffling a little, "may I axeyou--why you--"

"Certainly, " said Bill, and he handed over the paper that he held in hishand. 

Mayhall took the paper and looked it up and down helplessly--FlitterBill slyly watching him. 

Mayhall handed it back. "If you please, Misto Richmond--I left my specsat home. " Without a smile, Bill began. It was an order from thecommandant at Cumberland Gap, sixty miles farther down Powell's Valley, authorizing Mayhall Wells to form a company to guard the Gap and toprotect the property of Confederate citizens in the valley; and acommission of captaincy in the said company for the said Mayhall Wells. Mayhall's mouth widened to the full stretch of his lean jaws, and, whenBill was through reading, he silently reached for the paper and lookedit up and down and over and over, muttering:

"Well--well--well!" And then he pointed silently to the name that was atthe bottom of the paper. 

Bill spelled out the name:

"_Jefferson Davis_" and Mayhall's big fingers trembled as he pulled themaway, as though to avoid further desecration of that sacred name. 

Then he rose, and a magical transformation began that can be likened--Ispeak with reverence--to the turning of water into wine. Captain MayhallWells raised his head, set his chin well in, and kept it there. Hestraightened his shoulders, and kept them straight. He paced the floorwith a tread that was martial, and once he stopped before the door withhis right hand thrust under his breast-pocket, and with wrinkling browstudied the hills. It was a new man--with the water in his blood changedto wine--who turned suddenly on Flitter Bill Richmond:

"I can collect a vehy large force in a vehy few days. " Flitter Bill knewthat--that he could get together every loafer between the county-seat ofWise and the county-seat of Lee--but he only said encouragingly:

"Good!"

"An' we air to pertect the property--_I_ am to pertect the property ofthe Confederate citizens of the valley--that means _you_, MistoRichmond, and _this store_. "

Bill nodded. 

Mayhall coughed slightly. "There is one thing in the way, I opine. Whar--I axe you--air we to git somethin' to eat fer my command?" Billhad anticipated this. 

"I'll take keer o' that. "

Captain Wells rubbed his hands. 

"Of co'se, of co'se--you are a soldier and a patriot--you can afford tofeed 'em as a slight return fer the pertection I shall give you andyourn. "

"Certainly, " agreed Bill dryly, and with a prophetic stir of uneasiness. 

"Vehy--vehy well. I shall begin _now_, Misto Richmond. " And, to FlitterBill's wonder, the captain stalked out to the stoop, announced hispurpose with the voice of an auctioneer, and called for volunteers thenand there. There was dead silence for a moment. Then there was a smilehere, a chuckle there, an incredulous laugh, and Hence Sturgill, "bullyof the Pocket, " rose from the wagon-tongue, closed his knife, cameslowly forward, and cackled his scorn straight up into the teeth ofCaptain Mayhall Wells. The captain looked down and began to shed hiscoat. 

"I take it, Hence Sturgill, that you air laughin' at me?"

"I am a-laughin' at _you_, Mayhall Wells, " he said, contemptuously, buthe was surprised at the look on the good-natured giant's face. 

"_Captain_ Mayhall Wells, ef you please. "

"Plain ole Mayhall Wells, " said Hence, and Captain Wells descended withno little majesty and "biffed" him. 

The delighted crowd rose to its feet and gathered around. Tallow Dickcame running from the barn. It was biff--biff, and biff again, but notnip and tuck for long. Captain Mayhall closed in. Hence Sturgill struckthe earth like a Homeric pine, and the captain's mighty arm played abovehim and fell, resounding. In three minutes Hence, to the amazement ofthe crowd, roared:

"'Nough!"

But Mayhall breathed hard and said quietly:

"_Captain_ Wells!":

Hence shouted, "Plain ole--" But the captain's huge fist was poised inthe air over his face. 

"Captain Wells, " he growled, and the captain rose and calmly put on hiscoat, while the crowd looked respectful, and Hence Sturgill staggered toone side, as though beaten in spirit, strength, and wits as well. Thecaptain beckoned Flitter Bill inside the store. His manner had adistinct savor of patronage. 

[Illustration: Captain Wells descended with no little majesty and"biffed" him. ]

"Misto Richmond, " he said, "I make you--I appoint you, by the authorityof Jefferson Davis and the Confederate States of Ameriky, ascommissary-gineral of the Army of the Callahan. "

"As _what_?" Bill's eyes blinked at the astounding dignity of hiscommission. 

"Gineral Richmond, I shall not repeat them words. " And he didn't, butrose and made his way toward his old gray mare. Tallow Dick held hisbridle. 

"Dick, " he said jocosely, "goin' to run away ag'in?" The negro almostpaled, and then, with a look at a blacksnake whip that hung on the barndoor, grinned. 

"No, suh--no, suh--'deed I ain't, suh--no mo'. "

Mounted, the captain dropped a three-cent silver piece in the startlednegro's hand. Then he vouchsafed the wondering Flitter Bill and thegaping crowd a military salute and started for the yawning mouth of theGap--riding with shoulders squared and chin well in--riding as shouldride the commander of the Army of the Callahan. 

Flitter Bill dropped his blinking eyes to the paper in his hand thatbore the commission of Jefferson Davis and the Confederate States ofAmerica to Mayhall Wells of Callahan, and went back into his store. Helooked at it a long time and then he laughed, but without much mirth. 

II

Grass had little chance to grow for three weeks thereafter under thecowhide boots of Captain Mayhall Wells. When the twentieth morning cameover the hills, the mist parted over the Stars and Bars floating fromthe top of a tall poplar up through the Gap and flaunting brave defianceto Black Tom, his Harlan Home Guard, and all other jay-hawking Unionistsof the Kentucky hills. It parted over the Army of the Callahan asleep onits arms in the mouth of the chasm, over Flitter Bill sitting, sullenand dejected, on the stoop of his store; and over Tallow Dick stealingcorn bread from the kitchen to make ready for flight that night throughthe Gap, the mountains, and to the yellow river that was the Mecca ofthe runaway slave. 

At the mouth of the Gap a ragged private stood before a ragged tent, raised a long dinner horn to his lips, and a mighty blast rang throughthe hills, reveille! And out poured the Army of the Callahan from shack, rock-cave, and coverts of sticks and leaves, with squirrel rifles, Revolutionary muskets, shotguns, clasp-knives, and horse pistols forthe duties of the day under Lieutenant Skaggs, tactician, and LieutenantBoggs, quondam terror of Roaring Fork. 

That blast rang down the valley into Flitter Bill's ears and startledhim into action. It brought Tallow Dick's head out of the barn door andmade him grin. 

"Dick!" Flitter Bill's call was sharp and angry. 

"Yes, suh!"

"Go tell ole Mayhall Wells that I ain't goin' to send him nary anotherpound o' bacon an' nary another tin cup o' meal--no, by ----, I ain't. "

Half an hour later the negro stood before the ragged tent of thecommander of the Army of the Callahan. 

"Marse Bill say he ain't gwine to sen' you no mo' rations--no mo'. "

"_What_!"

Tallow Dick repeated his message and the captain scowled--mutiny!

"Fetch my hoss!" he thundered. 

Very naturally and very swiftly had the trouble come, for straight afterthe captain's fight with Hence Sturgill there had been a mighty rally tothe standard of Mayhall Wells. From Pigeon's Creek the loaferscame--from Roaring Fork, Cracker's Neck, from the Pocket down thevalley, and from Turkey Cove. Recruits came so fast, and to suchproportions grew the Army of the Callahan, that Flitter Bill shrewdlysuggested at once that Captain Wells divide it into three companies andput one up Pigeon's Creek under Lieutenant Jim Skaggs and one onCallahan under Lieutenant Tom Boggs, while the captain, with a third, should guard the mouth of the Gap. Bill's idea was to share with thosedistricts the honor of his commissary-generalship; but Captain Wellscrushed the plan like a dried puffball. 

"Yes, " he said, with fine sarcasm. "What will them Kanetuckians do then?Don't you know, Gineral Richmond? Why, I'll tell you what they'll do. They'll jest swoop down on Lieutenant Boggs and gobble him up. Thenthey'll swoop down on Lieutenant Skaggs on Pigeon and gobble him up. Then they'll swoop down on me and gobble me up. No, they won't gobble_me_ up, but they'll come damn nigh it. An' what kind of a report will Imake to Jeff Davis, Gineral Richmond? _Captured In detail_, suh? No, suh. I'll jest keep Lieutenant Boggs and Lieutenant Skaggs close by me, and we'll pitch our camp right here in the Gap whar we can pertect theproperty of Confederate citizens and be close to our base o' supplies, suh. That's what I'll do!"

"Gineral Richmond" groaned, and when in the next breath the mightycaptain casually inquired if _that uniform of his_ had come yet, FlitterBill's fat body nearly rolled off his chair. 

"You will please have it here next Monday, " said the captain, with greatfirmness. "It is necessary to the proper discipline of my troops. " Andit was there the following Monday--a regimental coat, gray jeanstrousers, and a forage cap that Bill purchased from a passing Morganraider. Daily orders would come from Captain Wells to General FlitterBill Richmond to send up more rations, and Bill groaned afresh when aman from Callahan told how the captain's family was sprucing up on mealand flour and bacon from the captain's camp. Humiliation followed. Ithad never occurred to Captain Wells that being a captain made itincongruous for him to have a "general" under him, until LieutenantSkaggs, who had picked up a manual of tactics somewhere, cautiouslycommunicated his discovery. Captain Wells saw the point at once. Therewas but one thing to do--to reduce General Richmond to the ranks--and itwas done. Technically, thereafter, the general was purveyor for the Armyof the Callahan, but to the captain himself he was--gallingly to thepurveyor--simple Flitter Bill. 

The strange thing was that, contrary to his usual shrewdness, it shouldhave taken Flitter Bill so long to see that the difference betweenhaving his store robbed by the Kentucky jay-hawkers and looted byCaptain Wells was the difference between tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, but, when he did see, he forged a plan of relief at once. When thecaptain sent down Lieutenant Boggs for a supply of rations, Bill sentthe saltiest, rankest bacon he could find, with a message that he wantedto see the great man. As before, when Captain Wells rode down to thestore, Bill handed out a piece of paper, and, as before, the captain hadleft his "specs" at home. The paper was an order that, whereas thedistinguished services of Captain Wells to the Confederacy wereappreciated by Jefferson Davis, the said Captain Wells was, and is, hereby empowered to duly, and in accordance with the tactics of war, impress what live-stock he shall see fit and determine fit for the goodof his command. The news was joy to the Army of the Callahan. Before ithad gone the rounds of the camp Lieutenant Boggs had spied a fat heiferbrowsing on the edge of the woods and ordered her surrounded and drivendown. Without another word, when she was close enough, he raised hisgun and would have shot her dead in her tracks had he not been arrestedby a yell of command and horror from his superior. 

"Air you a-goin' to have me cashiered and shot, Lieutenant Boggs, ferviolatin' the ticktacks of war?" roared the captain, indignantly. "Don'tyou know that I've got to _impress_ that heifer accordin' to the rulesan' regulations? Git roun' that heifer. " The men surrounded her. "Takeher by the horns. Now! In the name of Jefferson Davis and theConfederate States of Ameriky, I hereby and hereon do duly impress thisheifer for the purposes and use of the Army of the Callahan, so help meGod! Shoot her down, Bill Boggs, shoot her down!"

Now, naturally, the soldiers preferred fresh meat, and they gotit--impressing cattle, sheep, and hogs, geese, chickens, and ducks, vegetables--nothing escaped the capacious maw of the Army of theCallahan. It was a beautiful idea, and the success of it pleased FlitterBill mightily, but the relief did not last long. An indignant murmurrose up and down valley and creek bottom against the outrages, and oneangry old farmer took a pot-shot at Captain Wells with a squirrel rifle, clipping the visor of his forage cap; and from that day the captainbegan to call with immutable regularity again on Flitter Bill for baconand meal. That morning the last straw fell in a demand for a wagon-loadof rations to be delivered before noon, and, worn to the edge of hispatience, Bill had sent a reckless refusal. And now he was waiting onthe stoop of his store, looking at the mouth of the Gap and waiting forit to give out into the valley Captain Wells and his old gray mare. Andat last, late in the afternoon, there was the captain coming--coming ata swift gallop--and Bill steeled himself for the onslaught like a knightin a joust against a charging antagonist. The captain salutedstiffly--pulling up sharply and making no move to dismount. 

"Purveyor, " he said, "Black Tom has just sent word that he's a-comin'over hyeh this week--have you heerd that, purveyor?" Bill was silent. 

"Black Tom says you _air_ responsible for the Army of the Callahan. Haveyou heerd that, purveyor?" Still was there silence. 

"He says he's a-goin' to hang me to that poplar whar floats them Starsand Bars"--Captain Mayhall Wells chuckled--"an' he says he's a-goin' tohang _you_ thar fust, though; have you heerd _that_, purveyor?"

The captain dropped the titular address now, and threw one leg over thepommel of his saddle. 

"Flitter Bill Richmond, " he said, with great nonchalance, "I axe you--doyou prefer that I should disband the Army of the Callahan, or do younot?"

"No. "

The captain was silent a full minute, and his face grew stern. "FlitterBill Richmond, I had no idee o' disbandin' the Army of the Callahan, butdo you know what I did aim to do?" Again Bill was silent. 

"Well, suh, I'll tell you whut I aim to do. If you don't send themrations I'll have you cashiered for mutiny, an' if Black Tom don't hangyou to that air poplar, I'll hang you thar myself, suh; yes, by ----! Iwill. Dick!" he called sharply to the slave. "Hitch up that air wagon, fill hit full o' bacon and meal, and drive it up thar to my tent. An' bemighty damn quick about it, or I'll hang you, too. "

The negro gave a swift glance to his master, and Flitter Bill feeblywaved acquiescence. 

"Purveyor, I wish you good-day. "

Bill gazed after the great captain in dazed wonder (was this the man whohad come cringing to him only a few short weeks ago?) and groaned aloud. 

But for lucky or unlucky coincidence, how could the prophet ever havegained name and fame on earth?

Captain Wells rode back to camp chuckling--chuckling with satisfactionand pride; but the chuckle passed when he caught sight of his tent. Infront of it were his lieutenants and some half a dozen privates, allplainly in great agitation, and in the midst of them stood the lankmessenger who had brought the first message from Black Tom, deliveringanother from the same source. Black Tom _was_ coming, coming surer andunless that flag, that "Rebel rag, " were hauled down under twenty-fourhours, Black Tom would come over and pull it down, and to that samepoplar hang "Captain Mayhall an' his whole damn army. " Black Tom mightdo it anyhow--just for fun. 

While the privates listened the captain strutted and swore; then herested his hand on his hip and smiled with silent sarcasm, and thenswore again--while the respectful lieutenants and the awed soldiery ofthe Callahan looked on. Finally he spoke. 

"Ah--when did Black Tom say that?" he inquired casually. 

"Yestiddy mornin'. He said he was goin' to start over hyeh early thismornin'. " The captain whirled. 

"What? Then why didn't you git over hyeh _this_ mornin'?"

"Couldn't git across the river last night. "

"Then he's a-comin' to-day?"

"I reckon Black Tom'll be hyeh in about two hours--mebbe he ain't feraway now. " The captain was startled. 

"Lieutenant Skaggs, " he called, sharply, "git yo' men out thar an' draw'em up in two rows!"

The face of the student of military tactics looked horrified. Thecaptain in his excitement had relaxed into language that was distinctlyagricultural, and, catching the look on his subordinate's face, and atthe same time the reason for it, he roared, indignantly:

"Air you afeer'd, sir? Git yo' men out, I said, an' march 'em up thar infront of the Gap. Lieutenant Boggs, take ten men and march at doublequick through the Gap, an' defend that poplar with yo' life's blood. Ifyou air overwhelmed by superior numbers, fall back, suh, step by step, until you air re-enforced by Lieutenant Skaggs. If you two air not ableto hold the enemy in check, you may count on me an' the Army of theCallahan to grind _him_--" (How the captain, now thoroughly aroused toall the fine terms of war, did roll that technical "him" under histongue)--"to grind him to pieces ag'in them towerin' rocks, and plungehim in the foilin' waters of Roarin' Fawk. Forward, suh--double quick. "Lieutenant Skaggs touched his cap. Lieutenant Boggs looked embarrassedand strode nearer. 

"Captain, whar am I goin' to git ten men to face them Kanetuckians?"

"Whar air they goin' to git a off'cer to lead 'em, you'd better say, "said the captain, severely, fearing that some of the soldiers had heardthe question. "If you air afeer'd, suh"--and then he saw that no one hadheard, and he winked--winked with most unmilitary familiarity. 

"Air you a good climber, Lieutenant Boggs?" Lieutenant Boggs lookedmystified, but he said he was. 

"Lieutenant Boggs, I now give you the opportunity to show yo' profoundknowledge of the ticktacks of war. You may now be guilty of disobedienceof ordahs, and I will not have you court-martialled for the same. Inother words, if, after a survey of the situation, you think best--why, "the captain's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "pull that flag down, lieutenant Boggs, pull her down. "

III

It was an hour by sun now. Lieutenant Boggs and his devoted band of tenwere making their way slowly and watchfully up the mighty chasm--thelieutenant with his hand on his sword and his head bare, and bowed inthought. The Kentuckians were on their way--at that moment they might beriding full speed toward the mouth of Pigeon, where floated the flag. They might gobble him and his command up when they emerged from the Gap. Suppose they caught him up that tree. His command might escape, but _he_would be up there, saving them the trouble of stringing him up. All theywould have to do would be to send up after him a man with a rope, andlet him drop. That was enough. Lieutenant Boggs called a halt andexplained the real purpose of the expedition. 

"We will wait here till dark, " he said, "so them Kanetuckians can'tketch us, whilst we are climbing that tree. "

And so they waited opposite Bee Rock, which was making ready to blossomwith purple rhododendrons. And the reserve back in the Gap, underLieutenant Skaggs, waited. Waited, too, the Army of the Callahan at themouth of the Gap, and waited restlessly Captain Wells at the door of histent, and Flitter Bill on the stoop of his store--waited everybody butTallow Dick, who, in the general confusion, was slipping through therhododendrons along the bank of Roaring Fork, until he could climb themountain-side and slip through the Gap high over the army's head. 

What could have happened?

When dusk was falling, Captain Wells dispatched a messenger toLieutenant Skaggs and his reserve, and got an answer; Lieutenant Skaggsfeared that Boggs had been captured without the firing of a singleshot--but the flag was floating still. An hour later, Lieutenant Skaggssent another message--he could not see the flag. Captain Wells answered, stoutly:

"Hold yo' own. "

And so, as darkness fell, the Army of the Callahan waited in the strainof mortal expectancy as one man; and Flitter Bill waited, with his horsestanding saddled in the barn, ready for swift flight. And, as darknessfell, Tallow Dick was cautiously picking his way alongside the steepwall of the Gap toward freedom, and picking it with stealthy caution, foot by foot; for up there, to this day, big loose rocks mount halfwayto the jagged points of the black cliffs, and a careless step would havedetached one and sent an avalanche of rumbling stones down to betrayhim. A single shot rang suddenly out far up through the Gap, and thestartled negro sprang forward, slipped, and, with a low, frightenedoath, lay still. Another shot followed, and another. Then a hoarsemurmur rose, loudened into thunder, and ended in a frightful--boom! Oneyell rang from the army's throat:

"The Kentuckians! The Kentuckians! The wild, long-haired, terribleKentuckians!"

Captain Wells sprang into the air. 

"My God, they've got a cannon!"

Then there was a martial chorus--the crack of rifle, the hoarse cough ofhorse-pistol, the roar of old muskets. 

"Bing! Bang! Boom! Bing--bing! Bang--bang! Boom--boom!Bing--bang--boom!"

Lieutenant Skaggs and his reserves heard the beat of running feet downthe Gap. 

"They've gobbled Boggs, " he said, and the reserve rushed after him as hefled. The army heard the beat of their coming feet. 

"They've gobbled Skaggs, " the army said. 

Then was there bedlam as the army fled--a crashing through bushes--asplashing into the river, the rumble of mule wagons, yells of terror, swift flying shapes through the pale moonlight. Flitter Bill heard thedin as he stood by his barn door. 

"They've gobbled the army, " said Flitter Bill, and he, too, fled like ashadow down the valley. 

Nature never explodes such wild and senseless energy as when she letsloose a mob in a panic. With the army, it was each man for himself anddevil take the hindmost; and the flight of the army was like a flightfrom the very devil himself. Lieutenant Boggs, whose feet were theswiftest in the hills, outstripped his devoted band. Lieutenant Skaggs, being fat and slow, fell far behind his reserve, and dropped exhaustedon a rock for a moment to get his breath. As he rose, panting, to resumeflight, a figure bounded out of the darkness behind him, and he gatheredit in silently and went with it to the ground, where both foughtsilently in the dust until they rolled into the moonlight and eachlooked the other in the face. 

"That you, Jim Skaggs?"

"That you, Tom Boggs?"

Then the two lieutenants rose swiftly, but a third shape bounded intothe road--a gigantic figure--Black Tom! With a startled yell theygathered him in--one by the waist, the other about the neck, and, for amoment, the terrible Kentuckian--it could be none other--swung the twoclear of the ground, but the doughty lieutenants hung to him. Boggstrying to get his knife and Skaggs his pistol, and all went down in aheap. 

"I surrender--I surrender!" It was the giant who spoke, and at the soundof his voice both men ceased to struggle, and, strange to say, no one ofthe three laughed. 

"Lieutenant Boggs, " said Captain Wells, thickly, "take yo' thumb out o'my mouth. Lieutenant Skaggs, leggo my leg an' stop bitin' me. "

"Sh--sh--sh--" said all three. 

The faint swish of bushes as Lieutenant Boggs's ten men scuttled intothe brush behind them--the distant beat of the army's feet gettingfainter ahead of them, and then silence--dead, dead silence. 

"Sh--sh--sh!"

With the red streaks of dawn Captain Mayhall Wells was pacing up anddown in front of Flitter Bill's store, a gaping crowd about him, and theshattered remnants of the army drawn up along Roaring Fork in the rear. An hour later Flitter Bill rode calmly in. 

"I stayed all night down the valley, " said Flitter Bill. "Uncle JimRichmond was sick. I hear you had some trouble last night, CaptainWells. " The captain expanded his chest. 

"Trouble!" he repeated, sarcastically. And then he told how a charginghorde of daredevils had driven him from camp with overwhelming numbersand one piece of artillery; how he had rallied the army and fought themback, foot by foot, and put them to fearful rout; how the army hadfallen back again just when the Kentuckians were running like sheep, andhow he himself had stayed in the rear with Lieutenant Boggs andLieutenant Skaggs, "to cover their retreat, suh, " and how the purveyor, if he would just go up through the Gap, would doubtless find the cannonthat the enemy had left behind in their flight. It was just while he wasthus telling the tale for the twentieth time that two figures appearedover the brow of the hill and drew near--Hence Sturgill on horseback andTallow Dick on foot. 

"I ketched this nigger in my corn-fiel' this mornin', " said Hence, simply, and Flitter Bill glared, and without a word went for theblacksnake ox-whip that hung by the barn door. 

For the twenty-first time Captain Wells started his tale again, and withevery pause that he made for breath Hence cackled scorn. 

"An', Hence Sturgill, ef you will jus' go up in the Gap you'll find acannon, captured, suh, by me an' the Army of the Callahan, an'--"

"Cannon!" Hence broke in. "Speak up, nigger!" And Tallow Dick spokeup--grinning:

"I done it!"

"What!" shouted Flitter Bill. 

"I kicked a rock loose climbin' over Callahan's Nose. "

Bill dropped his whip with a chuckle of pure ecstasy. Mayhall paled andstared. The crowd roared, the Army of the Callahan grinned, and Henceclimbed back on his horse. 

"Mayhall Wells, " he said, "plain ole Mayhall Wells, I'll see you onCouht Day. I ain't got time now. "

And he rode away. 

[Illustration: "Speak up, nigger. "]

IV

That day Captain Mayhall Wells and the Army of the Callahan were indisrepute. Next day the awful news of Lee's surrender came. CaptainWells refused to believe it, and still made heroic effort to keep hisshattered command together. Looking for recruits on Court Day, he wastwitted about the rout of the army by Hence Sturgill, whose long-covetedchance to redeem himself had come. Again, as several times before, thecaptain declined to fight--his health was essential to the generalwell-being--but Hence laughed in his face, and the captain had to facethe music, though the heart of him was gone. 

He fought well, for he was fighting for his all, and he knew it. Hecould have whipped with ease, and he did whip, but the spirit of thethoroughbred was not in Captain Mayhall Wells. He had Sturgill down, butHence sank his teeth into Mayhall's thigh while Mayhall's hands graspedhis opponent's throat. The captain had only to squeeze, as everyrough-and-tumble fighter knew, and endure his pain until Hence wouldhave to give in. But Mayhall was not built to endure. He roared like abull as soon as the teeth met in his flesh, his fingers relaxed, and tothe disgusted surprise of everybody he began to roar with greatdistinctness and agony:

"'Nough! 'Nough!"

The end was come, and nobody knew it better than Mayhall Wells. He rodehome that night with hands folded on the pommel of his saddle and hisbeard crushed by his chin against his breast. For the last time, nextmorning he rode down to Flitter Bill's store. On the way he met ParsonKilburn and for the last time Mayhall Wells straightened his shouldersand for one moment more resumed his part: perhaps the parson had notheard of his fall. 

"Good-mornin', parsing, " he said, pleasantly. "Ah--where have you been?"The parson was returning from Cumberland Gap, whither he had gone totake the oath of allegiance. 

"By the way, I have something here for you which Flitter Bill asked meto give you. He said it was from the commandant at Cumberland Gap. "

"Fer me?" asked the captain--hope springing anew in his heart. Theparson handed him a letter. Mayhall looked at it upside down. 

"If you please, parsing, " he said, handing it back, "I hev left myspecs at home. "

The parson read that, whereas Captain Wells had been guilty of gravemisdemeanors while in command of the Army of the Callahan, he should bearrested and court-martialled for the same, or be given the privilege ofleaving the county in twenty-four hours. Mayhall's face paled a littleand he stroked his beard. 

"Ah--does anybody but you know about this ordah, parsing?"

"Nobody. "

"Well, if you will do me the great favor, parsing, of not mentioning itto nary a living soul--as fer me and my ole gray hoss and my householdfurniture--we'll be in Kanetuck afore daybreak to-morrow mornin'!" Andhe was. 

But he rode on just then and presented himself for the last time at thestore of Flitter Bill. Bill was sitting on the stoop in his favoriteposture. And in a moment there stood before him plain MayhallWells--holding out the order Bill had given the parson that day. 

"Misto Richmond, " he said, "I have come to tell you good-by. "

Now just above the selfish layers of fat under Flitter Bill's chubbyhands was a very kind heart. When he saw Mayhall's old manner and heardthe old respectful way of address, and felt the dazed helplessness ofthe big, beaten man, the heart thumped. 

"I am sorry about that little amount I owe you; I think I'll be ableshortly--" But Bill cut him short. Mayhall Wells, beaten, disgraced, driven from home on charge of petty crimes, of which he was undoubtedlyguilty, but for which Bill knew he himself was responsible--Mayhall onhis way into exile and still persuading himself and, at that moment, almost persuading him that he meant to pay that little debt of longago--was too much for Flitter Bill, and he proceeded to lie--lying withdeliberation and pleasure. 

"Captain Wells, " he said--and the emphasis on the title was balm toMayhall's soul--"you have protected me in time of war, an' you airwelcome to yo' uniform an' you air welcome to that little debt. Yes, " hewent on, reaching down into his pocket and pulling out a roll of bills, "I tender you in payment for that same protection the regular pay of aofficer in the Confederate service"--and he handed out the army pay forthree months in Confederate greenbacks--"an' five dollars in money ofthe United States, of which I an', doubtless, you, suh, air true andloyal citizens. Captain Wells, I bid you good-by an' I wish ye well--Iwish ye well. "

From the stoop of his store Bill watched the captain ride away, drooping at the shoulders, and with his hands folded on the pommel ofhis saddle--his dim blue eyes misty, the jaunty forage cap a mockery ofhis iron-gray hair, and the flaps of his coat fanning either side likemournful wings. 

And Flitter Bill muttered to himself:

"Atter he's gone long enough fer these things to blow over, I'm going tobring him back and give him another chance--yes, damme if I don't githim back. "

And Bill dropped his remorseful eye to the order in his hand. Like thehandwriting of the order that lifted Mayhall like magic into power, thehandwriting of this order, that dropped him like a stone--was FlitterBill's own. 

THE PARDON OF BECKY DAY

The missionary was young and she was from the North. Her brows werestraight, her nose was rather high, and her eyes were clear and gray. The upper lip of her little mouth was so short that the teeth just underit were never quite concealed. It was the mouth of a child and it gavethe face, with all its strength and high purpose, a peculiar pathos thatno soul in that little mountain town had the power to see or feel. Ayellow mule was hitched to the rickety fence in front of her and shestood on the stoop of a little white frame-house with an elm switchbetween her teeth and gloves on her hands, which were white and lookedstrong. The mule wore a man's saddle, but no matter--the streets werefull of yellow pools, the mud was ankle-deep, and she was on her way tothe sick-bed of Becky Day. 

There was a flood that morning. All the preceding day the rains haddrenched the high slopes unceasingly. That night, the rain-clear forksof the Kentucky got yellow and rose high, and now they crashed togetheraround the town and, after a heaving conflict, started the river on onequivering, majestic sweep to the sea. 

Nobody gave heed that the girl rode a mule or that the saddle was nother own, and both facts she herself quickly forgot. This half log, halfframe house on a corner had stood a siege once. She could yet see bulletholes about the door. Through this window, a revenue officer from theBlue Grass had got a bullet in the shoulder from a garden in the rear. Standing in the post-office door only just one month before, she herselfhad seen children scurrying like rabbits through the back-yard fences, men running silently here and there, men dodging into doorways, fireflashing in the street and from every house--and not a sound but thecrack of pistol and Winchester; for the mountain men deal death in allthe terrible silence of death. And now a preacher with a long scaracross his forehead had come to the one little church in the place andthe fervor of religion was struggling with feudal hate for possession ofthe town. To the girl, who saw a symbol in every mood of the earth, thepassions of these primitive people were like the treacherous streams ofthe uplands--now quiet as sunny skies and now clashing together with butlittle less fury and with much more noise. And the roar of the floodabove the wind that late afternoon was the wrath of the Father, thatwith the peace of the Son so long on earth, such things still could be. Once more trouble was threatening and that day even she knew thattrouble might come, but she rode without fear, for she went when andwhere she pleased as any woman can, throughout the Cumberland, withoutinsult or harm. 

At the end of the street were two houses that seemed to front each otherwith unmistakable enmity. In them were two men who had wounded eachother only the day before, and who that day would lead the factions, ifthe old feud broke loose again. One house was close to the frothing hemof the flood--a log-hut with a shed of rough boards for a kitchen--thehome of Becky Day. 

The other was across the way and was framed and smartly painted. On thesteps sat a woman with her head bare and her hands under herapron--widow of the Marcum whose death from a bullet one month beforehad broken the long truce of the feud. A groaning curse was growled fromthe window as the girl drew near, and she knew it came from a woundedMarcum who had lately come back from the West to avenge his brother'sdeath. 

"Why don't you go over to see your neighbor?" The girl's clear eyes gaveno hint that she knew--as she well did--the trouble between the houses, and the widow stared in sheer amazement, for mountaineers do not talkwith strangers of the quarrels between them. 

"I have nothin' to do with such as her, " she said, sullenly; "she ain'tthe kind--"

"Don't!" said the girl, with a flush, "she's dying. "

"_Dyin?_"

"Yes. " With the word the girl sprang from the mule and threw the reinsover the pale of the fence in front of the log-hut across the way. Inthe doorway she turned as though she would speak to the woman on thesteps again, but a tall man with a black beard appeared in the low doorof the kitchen-shed. 

"How is your--how is Mrs. Day?"

"Mighty puny this mornin'--Becky is. "

The girl slipped into the dark room. On a disordered, pillowless bed laya white face with eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Near the bed wasa low wood fire. On the hearth were several thick cups filled with herbsand heavy fluids and covered with tarpaulin, for Becky's "man" was ateamster. With a few touches of the girl's quick hands, the covers ofthe bed were smooth, and the woman's eyes rested on the girl's owncloak. With her own handkerchief she brushed the death-damp from theforehead that already seemed growing cold. At her first touch, thewoman's eyelids opened and dropped together again. Her lips moved, butno sound came from them. 

In a moment the ashes disappeared, the hearth was clean and the fire wasblazing. Every time the girl passed the window she saw the widow acrossthe way staring hard at the hut. When she took the ashes into thestreet, the woman spoke to her. 

"I can't go to see Becky--she hates me. "

"With good reason. "

The answer came with a clear sharpness that made the widow start andredden angrily; but the girl walked straight to the gate, her eyesablaze with all the courage that the mountain woman knew and yet withanother courage to which the primitive creature was a stranger--acourage that made the widow lower her own eyes and twist her hands underher apron. 

"I want you to come and ask Becky to forgive you. "

The woman stared and laughed. 

"Forgive me? Becky forgive me? She wouldn't--an' I don't want her--" Shecould not look up into the girl's eyes; but she pulled a pipe from underthe apron, laid it down with a trembling hand and began to rockslightly. 

The girl leaned across the gate. 

"Look at me!" she said, sharply. The woman raised her eyes, swervedthem once, and then in spite of herself, held them steady. 

"Listen! Do you want a dying woman's curse?"

It was a straight thrust to the core of a superstitious heart and aspasm of terror crossed the woman's face. She began to wring her hands. 

"Come on!" said the girl, sternly, and turned, without looking back, until she reached the door of the hut, where she beckoned and stoodwaiting, while the woman started slowly and helplessly from the steps, still wringing her hands. Inside, behind her, the wounded Marcum, whohad been listening, raised himself on one elbow and looked after herthrough the window. 

"She can't come in--not while I'm in here. "

The girl turned quickly. It was Dave Day, the teamster, in the kitchendoor, and his face looked blacker than his beard. 

"Oh!" she said, simply, as though hurt, and then with a dignity thatsurprised her, the teamster turned and strode towards the back door. 

"But I can git out, I reckon, " he said, and he never looked at the widowwho had stopped, frightened, at the gate. 

"Oh, I can't--I _can't!_" she said, and her voice broke; but the girlgently pushed her to the door, where she stopped again, leaning againstthe lintel. Across the way, the wounded Marcum, with a scowl of wonder, crawled out of his bed and started painfully to the door. The girl sawhim and her heart beat fast. 

Inside, Becky lay with closed eyes. She stirred uneasily, as though shefelt some hated presence, but her eyes stayed fast, for the presence ofDeath in the room was stronger still. 

"Becky!" At the broken cry, Becky's eyes flashed wide and fire brokethrough the haze that had gathered in them. 

"I want ye ter fergive me, Becky. "

The eyes burned steadily for a long time. For two days she had notspoken, but her voice came now, as though from the grave. 

"You!" she said, and, again, with torturing scorn, "You!" And then shesmiled, for she knew why her enemy was there, and her hour of triumphwas come. The girl moved swiftly to the window--she could see thewounded Marcum slowly crossing the street, pistol in hand. 

"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothin', Becky, nothin'. "

Becky laughed harshly. "You can tell the truth--can't ye--to a dyin'woman?"

"Fergive me, Becky!"

A scowling face, tortured with pain, was thrust into the window. 

"Sh-h!" whispered the girl, imperiously, and the man lifted his heavyeyes, dropped one elbow on the window-sill and waited. 

"You tuk Jim from me!"

The widow covered her face with her hands, and the Marcum at thewindow--brother to Jim, who was dead--lowered at her, listening keenly. 

"An' you got him by lyin' 'bout me. You tuk him by lyin' 'boutme--didn't ye? Didn't ye?" she repeated, fiercely, and her voice wouldhave wrung the truth from a stone. 

"Yes--Becky--yes!"

"You hear?" cried Becky, turning her eyes to the girl. 

"You made him believe an' made ever'body, you could, believe that Iwas--was _bad_" Her breath got short, but the terrible arraignment wenton. 

"You started this war. My brother wouldn't 'a' shot Jim Marcum if ithadn't been fer you. You killed Jim--your own husband--an' you killed_me_. An' now you want me to fergive you--you!" She raised her righthand as though with it she would hurl the curse behind her lips, and thewidow, with a cry, sprang for the bony fingers, catching them in her ownhand and falling over on her knees at the bedside. 

"Don't, Becky, don't--don't--_don't!_"

There was a slight rustle at the back window. At the other, a pistolflashed into sight and dropped again below the sill. Turning, the girlsaw Dave's bushy black head--he, too, with one elbow on the sill and theother hand out of sight. 

"Shame!" she said, looking from one to the other of the two men, who hadlearned, at last, the bottom truth of the feud; and then she caught thesick woman's other hand and spoke quickly. 

"Hush, Becky, " she said; and at the touch of her hand and the sound ofher voice, Becky looked confusedly at her and let her upraised hand sinkback to the bed. The widow stared swiftly from Jim's brother, at onewindow, to Dave Day at the other, and hid her face on her arms. 

"Remember, Becky--how can you expect forgiveness in another world, unless you forgive in this?"

The woman's brow knitted and she lay quiet. Like the widow who held herhand, the dying woman believed, with never the shadow of a doubt, thatsomewhere above the stars, a living God reigned in a heaven ofnever-ending happiness; that somewhere beneath the earth a personaldevil gloated over souls in eternal torture; that whether she wentabove, or below, hung solely on her last hour of contrition; and thatin heaven or hell she would know those whom she might meet as surely asshe had known them on earth. By and by her face softened and she drew along breath. 

"Jim was a good man, " she said. And then after a moment:

"An' I was a good woman"--she turned her eyes towards the girl--"untilJim married _her_. I didn't keer after that. " Then she got calm, andwhile she spoke to the widow, she looked at the girl. 

"Will you git up in church an' say before everybody that you knew I was_good_ when you said I was bad--that you lied about me?"

"Yes--yes. " Still Becky looked at the girl, who stooped again. 

"She will, Becky, I know she will. Won't you forgive her and leave peacebehind you? Dave and Jim's brother are here--make them shake hands. Won't you--won't you?" she asked, turning from one to the other. 

Both men were silent. 

"Won't you?" she repeated, looking at Jim's brother. 

"I've got nothin' agin Dave. I always thought that she"--he did not callhis brother's wife by name--"caused all this trouble. I've nothin' aginDave. "

The girl turned. "Won't you, Dave?"

"I'm waitin' to hear whut Becky says. "

Becky was listening, though her eyes were closed. Her brows knittedpainfully. It was a hard compromise that she was asked to make i betweenmortal hate and a love that was more than mortal, but the Plea that hasstood between them for nearly twenty centuries prevailed, and the girlknew that the end of the feud was nigh. 

Becky nodded. 

"Yes, I fergive her, an' I want 'em to shake hands. "

But not once did she turn her eyes to the woman whom she forgave, andthe hand that the widow held gave back no answering pressure. The facesat the windows disappeared, and she motioned for the girl to take herweeping enemy away. 

She did not open her eyes when the girl came back, but her lips movedand the girl bent above her. 

"I know whar Jim is. "

From somewhere outside came Dave's cough, and the dying woman turned herhead as though she were reminded of something she had quite forgotten. Then, straightway, she forgot again. 

The voice of the flood had deepened. A smile came to Becky's lips--afaint, terrible smile of triumph. The girl bent low and, with astartled face, shrank back. 

"_An' I'll--git--thar--first. _"

With that whisper went Becky's last breath, but the smile was there, even when her lips were cold. 

A CRISIS FOR THE GUARD

The tutor was from New England, and he was precisely what passes, withSoutherners, as typical. He was thin, he wore spectacles, he talkeddreamy abstractions, and he looked clerical. Indeed, his ancestors hadbeen clergymen for generations, and, by nature and principle, he was anapostle of peace and a non-combatant. He had just come to the Gap--acleft in the Cumberland Mountains--to prepare two young Blue GrassKentuckians for Harvard. The railroad was still thirty miles away, andhe had travelled mule-back through mudholes, on which, as the joke ran, a traveller was supposed to leave his card before he entered anddisappeared--that his successor might not unknowingly press him toohard. I do know that, in those mudholes, mules were sometimes drowned. The tutor's gray mule fell over a bank with him, and he would have goneback had he not feared what was behind more than anything that waspossible ahead. He was mud-bespattered, sore, tired and dispirited whenhe reached the Gap, but still plucky and full of business. He wanted tosee his pupils at once and arrange his schedule. They came in aftersupper, and I had to laugh when I saw his mild eyes open. The boys wereonly fifteen and seventeen, but each had around him a huge revolver anda belt of cartridges, which he unbuckled and laid on the table aftershaking hands. The tutor's shining glasses were raised to me for light. I gave it: my brothers had just come in from a little police duty, Iexplained. Everybody was a policeman at the Gap, I added; and, naturally, he still looked puzzled; but he began at once to question theboys about their studies, and, in an hour, he had his daily schedulemapped out and submitted to me. I had to cover my mouth with my handwhen I came to one item--"Exercise: a walk of half an hour everyWednesday afternoon between five and six"--for the younger, known sinceat Harvard as the colonel, and known then at the Gap as the Infant ofthe Guard, winked most irreverently. As he had just come back from aten-mile chase down the valley on horseback after a bad butcher, and aseither was apt to have a like experience any and every day, I was notafraid they would fail to get exercise enough; so I let that item of thetutor pass. 

The tutor slept in my room that night, and my four brothers, the eldestof whom was a lieutenant on the police guard, in a room across thehallway. I explained to the tutor that there was much lawlessness inthe region; that we "foreigners" were trying to build a town, and that, to ensure law and order, we had all become volunteer policemen. Heseemed to think it was most interesting. 

About three o'clock in the morning a shrill whistle blew, and, fromhabit, I sprang out of bed. I had hardly struck the floor when fourpairs of heavy boots thundered down the stairs just outside the door, and I heard a gasp from the startled tutor. He was bolt upright in bed, and his face in the moonlight was white with fear. 

"Wha--wha--what's that?"

I told him it was a police whistle and that the boys were answering it. Everybody jumped when he heard a whistle, I explained; for nobody intown was permitted to blow one except a policeman. I guessed there wouldbe enough men answering that whistle without me, however, and I slippedback into bed. 

"Well, " he said; and when the boys lumbered upstairs again and oneshouted through the door, "All right!" the tutor said again withemphasis: "Well!"

Next day there was to be a political gathering at the Gap. A Senator wastrying to lift himself by his own boot-straps into the Governor'schair. He was going to make a speech, there would be a big and unrulycrowd, and it would be a crucial day for the Guard. So, next morning, Isuggested to the tutor that it would be unwise for him to begin workwith his pupils that day, for the reason that he was likely to begreatly interrupted and often. He thought, however, he would like tobegin. He did begin, and within half an hour Gordon, the town sergeant, thrust his head inside the door and called the colonel by name. 

"Come on, " he said; "they're going to try that d--n butcher. " And seeingfrom the tutor's face that he had done something dreadful, he slammedthe door in apologetic confusion. The tutor was law-abiding, and it wasthe law that called the colonel, and so the tutor let him go--nay, wentwith him and heard the case. The butcher had gone off on another man'shorse--the man owed him money, he said, and the only way he could gethis money was to take the horse as security. But the sergeant did notknow this, and he and the colonel rode after him, and the colonel, having the swifter horse, but not having had time to get his own pistol, took the sergeant's and went ahead. He fired quite close to the runningbutcher twice, and the butcher thought it wise to halt. When he saw thechild who had captured him he was speechless, and he got off his horseand cut a big switch to give the colonel a whipping, but the doughtyInfant drew down on him again and made him ride, foaming with rage, backto town. The butcher was good-natured at the trial, however, and thetutor heard him say, with a great guffaw:

"An' I _do_ believe the d--n little fool would 'a' shot me. "

Once more the tutor looked at the pupil whom he was to lead into theclassic halls of Harvard, and once more he said:

"Well!"

People were streaming into town now, and I persuaded the tutor thatthere was no use for him to begin his studies again. He said he would gofishing down the river and take a swim. He would get back in time tohear the speaking in the afternoon. So I got him a horse, and he cameout with a long cane fishing-pole and a pair of saddle-bags. I told himthat he must watch the old nag or she would run away with him, particularly when he started homeward. The tutor was not much of acentaur. The horse started as he was throwing the wrong leg over hissaddle, and the tutor clamped his rod under one arm, clutching for thereins with both hands and kicking for his stirrups with both feet. Thetip of the limber pole beat the horse's flank gently as she struck atrot, and smartly as she struck into a lope, and so with arms, feet, saddle-pockets, and fishing-rod flapping towards different points of thecompass, the tutor passed out of sight over Poplar Hill on a dead run. 

As soon as he could get over a fit of laughter and catch his breath, thecolonel asked:

"Do you know what he had in those saddle-pockets?"

"No. "

"A bathing suit, " he shouted; and he went off again. 

Not even in a primeval forest, it seemed, would the modest Puritan barehis body to the mirror of limpid water and the caress of mountain air. 

 * * * * *

The trouble had begun early that morning, when Gordon, the townsergeant, stepped from his door and started down the street with nolittle self-satisfaction. He had been arraying himself for a full hour, and after a tub-bath and a shave he stepped, spic and span, into thestreet with his head steadily held high, except when he bent it to lookat the shine of his boots, which was the work of his own hands, and ofwhich he was proud. As a matter of fact, the sergeant felt that helooked just as he particularly wanted to look on that day--his best. Gordon was a native of Wise, but that day a girl was coming from Lee, and he was ready for her. 

Opposite the Intermont, a pistol-shot cracked from Cherokee Avenue, andfrom habit he started that way. Logan, the captain of the Guard--theleading lawyer in that part of the State--was ahead of him however, andhe called to Gordon to follow. Gordon ran in the grass along the road tokeep those boots out of the dust. Somebody had fired off his pistol forfun and was making tracks for the river. As they pushed the miscreantclose, he dashed into the river to wade across. It was a very coldmorning, and Gordon prayed that the captain was not going to be such afool as to follow the fellow across the river. He should have knownbetter, "In with you, " said the captain quietly, and the mirror of the shiningboots was dimmed, and the icy water chilled the sergeant to the kneesand made him so mad that he flashed his pistol and told the runaway tohalt, which he did in the middle of the stream. It was Richards, thetough from "the Pocket, " and, as he paid his fine promptly, they had tolet him go. Gordon went back, put on his everyday clothes and got hisbilly and his whistle and prepared to see the maid from Lee when hisduty should let him. As a matter of fact, he saw her but once, and thenhe was not made happy. 

The people had come in rapidly--giants from the Crab Orchard, mountaineers from through the Gap, and from Cracker's Neck andThunderstruck Knob; Valley people from Little Stone-Gap, from thefurnace site and Bum Hollow and Wildcat, and people from Lee, fromTurkey Cove, and from the Pocket--the much-dreaded Pocket--far down inthe river hills. 

They came on foot and on horseback, and left their horses in the bushesand crowded the streets and filled the saloon of one Jack Woods--who hadthe cackling laugh of Satan and did not like the Guard, for goodreasons, and whose particular pleasure was to persuade some customer tostir up a hornet's nest of trouble. From the saloon the crowd moved uptowards the big spring at the foot of Imboden Hill, where, underbeautiful trunk-mottled beeches, was built the speakers' platform. 

Precisely at three o'clock the local orator much flurried, rose, ran hishand through his long hair and looked in silence over the crowd. 

"Fellow citizens! There's beauty in the stars, of night and in theglowin' orb of day. There's beauty in the rollin' meadow and in thequiet stream. There's beauty in the smilin' valley and in theeverlastin' hills. Therefore, fellow citizens--THEREFORE, fellowcitizens, allow me to introduce to you the future Governor of theseUnited States--Senator William Bayhone. " And he sat down with such abeatific smile of self-satisfaction that a fiend would not have had theheart to say he had not won. 

Now, there are wandering minstrels yet in the Cumberland Hills. Theyplay fiddles and go about making up "ballets" that involve localhistory. Sometimes they make a pretty good verse--this, for instance, about a feud:

 The death of these two men Caused great trouble in our land. Caused men to leave their families And take the parting hand. Retaliation, still at war, May never, never cease. I would that I could only see Our land once more at peace. 

There was a minstrel out in the crowd, and pretty soon he struck up hisfiddle and his lay, and he did not exactly sing the virtues of BillyBayhone. Evidently some partisan thought he ought, for he smote him onthe thigh with the toe of his boot and raised such a stir as a rudestranger might had he smitten a troubadour in Arthur's Court. The crowdthickened and surged, and four of the Guard emerged with the fiddler andhis assailant under arrest. It was as though the Valley were a sheet ofwater straightway and the fiddler the dropping of a stone, for theripple of mischief started in every direction. It caught twomountaineers on the edge of the crowd, who for no particular reasonthumped each other with their huge fists, and were swiftly led away bythat silent Guard. The operation of a mysterious force was in the airand it puzzled the crowd. Somewhere a whistle would blow, and, from thispoint and that, a quiet, well-dressed young man would start swiftlytoward it. The crowd got restless and uneasy, and, by and by, experimental and defiant. For in that crowd was the spirit of BunkerHill and King's Mountain. It couldn't fiddle and sing; it couldn'tsettle its little troubles after the good old fashion of fist and skull;it couldn't charge up and down the streets on horseback if it pleased;it couldn't ride over those puncheon sidewalks; it couldn't drink openlyand without shame; and, Shades of the American Eagle and the Stars andStripes, it couldn't even yell. No wonder, like the heathen, it raged. What did these blanked "furriners" have against them anyhow? Theycouldn't run _their_ country--not much. 

Pretty soon there came a shrill whistle far down-town--then another andanother. It sounded ominous, indeed, and it was, being a signal ofdistress from the Infant of the Guard, who stood before the door of JackWoods's saloon with his pistol levelled on Richards, the tough from thePocket, the Infant, standing there with blazing eyes, alone and in theheart of a gathering storm. 

Now the chain of lawlessness that had tightened was curious andsignificant. There was the tough and his kind--lawless, irresponsibleand possible in any community. There was the farm-hand who had come totown with the wild son of his employer--an honest, law-abiding farmer. Came, too, a friend of the farmer who had not yet reaped the crop ofwild oats sown in his youth. Whiskey ran all into one mould. Thefarm-hand drank with the tough, the wild son with the farm-hand, and thethree drank together, and got the farmer's unregenerate friend to drinkwith them; and he and the law-abiding farmer himself, by and by, took adrink for old time's sake. Now the cardinal command of rural andmunicipal districts all through the South is, "Forsake not your friend":and it does not take whiskey long to make friends. Jack Woods had giventhe tough from the Pocket a whistle. 

"You dassen't blow it, " said he. 

Richards asked why, and Jack told him. Straightway the tough blew thewhistle, and when the little colonel ran down to arrest him he laughedand resisted, and the wild son and the farm-hand and Jack Woods showedan inclination to take his part. So, holding his "drop" on the toughwith one hand, the Infant blew vigorously for help with the other. 

Logan, the captain, arrived first--he usually arrived first--and Gordon, the sergeant, was by his side--Gordon was always by his side. He wouldhave stormed a battery if the captain had led him, and the captain wouldhave led him--alone--if he thought it was his duty. Logan was as calm asa stage hero at the crisis of a play. The crowd had pressed close. 

"Take that man, " he said sharply, pointing to the tough whom the colonelheld covered, and two men seized him from behind. 

The farm-hand drew his gun. 

"No, you don't!" he shouted. 

"Take _him_, " said the captain quietly; and he was seized by two more anddisarmed. 

It was then that Sturgeon, the wild son, ran up. 

"You can't take that man to jail, " he shouted with an oath, pointing atthe farm-hand. 

The captain waved his hand. "And _him_!"

As two of the Guard approached, Sturgeon started for his gun. Now, Sturgeon was Gordon's blood cousin, but Gordon levelled his own pistol. Sturgeon's weapon caught in his pocket, and he tried to pull it loose. The moment he succeeded Gordon stood ready to fire. Twice the hammer ofthe sergeant's pistol went back almost to the turning-point, and then, as he pulled the trigger again, Macfarlan, first lieutenant, who onceplayed lacrosse at Yale, rushed, parting the crowd right and left, anddropped his billy lightly three times--right, left and right--onSturgeon's head. The blood spurted, the head fell back between thebully's shoulders, his grasp on his pistol loosened, and he sank to hisknees. For a moment the crowd was stunned by the lightning quickness ofit all. It was the first blow ever struck in that country with a pieceof wood in the name of the law. 

"Take 'em on, boys, " called the captain, whose face had paled a little, though he seemed as cool as ever. 

And the boys started, dragging the three struggling prisoners, and thecrowd, growing angrier and angrier, pressed close behind, a hundred ofthem, led by the farmer himself, a giant in size, and beside himselfwith rage and humiliation. Once he broke through the guard line and waspushed back. Knives and pistols began to flash now everywhere, and loudthreats and curses rose on all sides--the men should not be taken tojail. The sergeant, dragging Sturgeon, looked up into the blazing eyesof a girl on the sidewalk, Sturgeon's sister--the maid from Lee. Thesergeant groaned. Logan gave some order just then to the Infant, whoran ahead, and by the time the Guard with the prisoners had backed to acorner there were two lines of Guards drawn across the street. The firstline let the prisoners and their captors through, closed up behind, andbacked slowly towards the corner, where it meant to stand. 

It was very exciting there. Winchesters and shotguns protruded from theline threateningly, but the mob came on as though it were going to pressthrough, and determined faces blenched with excitement, but not withfear. A moment later, the little colonel and the Guards on either sideof him were jabbing at men with cocked Winchesters. At that moment itwould have needed but one shot to ring out to have started an awfulcarnage; but not yet was there a man in the mob--and that is the troublewith mobs--who seemed willing to make a sacrifice of himself that theothers might gain their end. For one moment they halted, cursing andwaving; their pistols, preparing for a charge; and in that crucialmoment the tutor from New England came like a thunderbolt to the rescue. Shrieks of terror from children, shrieks of outraged modesty from women, rent the air down the street where the huddled crowd was rushing rightand left in wild confusion, and, through the parting crowd, the tutorflew into sight on horseback, bareheaded, barefooted, clad in a gaudilystriped bathing suit, with his saddle-pockets flapping behind him likewings. Some mischievous mountaineers, seeing him in his bathing suit onthe point of a rock up the river, had joyously taken a pot-shot or twoat him, and the tutor had mounted his horse and fled. But he came aswelcome and as effective as an emissary straight from the God ofBattles, though he came against his will, for his old nag was franticand was running away. Men, women and children parted before him, andgaping mouths widened as he passed. The impulse of the crowd ran fasterthan his horse, and even the enraged mountaineers in amazed wondersprang out of his way, and, far in the rear, a few privileged ones sawthe frantic horse plunge towards his stable, stop suddenly, and pitchhis mottled rider through the door and mercifully out of sight. Humanpurpose must give way when a pure miracle comes to earth to baffle it. It gave way now long enough to let the oaken doors of the calabooseclose behind tough, farm-hand, and the farmer's wild son. The line ofWinchesters at the corner quietly gave way. The power of the Guard wasestablished, the backbone of the opposition broken; henceforth, the workfor law and order was to be easy compared with what it had been. Up atthe big spring under the beeches sat the disgusted orator of the dayand the disgusted Senator, who, seriously, was quite sure that theGuard, being composed of Democrats, had taken this way to shatter hiscampaign. 

 * * * * *

Next morning, in court, the members of the Guard acted as witnessesagainst the culprits. Macfarlan stated that he had struck Sturgeon overthe head to save his life, and Sturgeon, after he had paid his fine, said he would prefer being shot to being clubbed to death, and he boredangerous malice for a long time, until he learned what everybody elseknew, that Macfarlan always did what he thought he ought, and neverspoke anything but the literal truth, whether it hurt friend, foe orhimself. 

After court, Richards, the tough, met Gordon, the sergeant, in the road. "Gordon, " he said, "you swore to a ---- lie about me a while ago. "

"How do you want to fight?" asked Gordon. 

"Fair!"

"Come on"; and Gordon started for the town limits across the river, Richards following on horseback. At a store, Gordon unbuckled his beltand tossed his pistol and his police badge inside. Jack Woods, seeingthis, followed, and the Infant, seeing Woods, followed too. The law waslaw, but this affair was personal, and would be settled without thelimits of law and local obligation. Richards tried to talk to Gordon, but the sergeant walked with his head down, as though he could nothear--he was too enraged to talk. 

While Richards was hitching his horse in the bushes the sergeant stoodon the bank of the river with his arms folded and his chin swinging fromside to side. When he saw Richards in the open he rushed for him like ayoung bull that feels the first swelling of his horns. It was not afair, stand-up, knock-down English fight, but a Scotch tussle, in whicheither could strike, kick, bite or gouge. After a few blows theyclinched and whirled and fell, Gordon on top--with which advantage hebegan to pound the tough from the Pocket savagely. Woods made as if topull him off, but the Infant drew his pistol. "Keep off!"

"He's killing him!" shouted Woods, halting. 

"Let him holler 'Enough, ' then, " said the Infant. 

"He's killing him!" shouted Woods. 

"Let Gordon's friends take him off, then, " said the Infant. "Don't _you_touch him. "

And it was done. Richards was senseless and speechless--he reallycouldn't shout "Enough. " But he was content, and the day left a verysatisfactory impression on him and on his friends. 

If they misbehaved in town they would be arrested: that was plain. Butit was also plain that if anybody had a personal grievance against oneof the Guard he could call him out of the town limits and getsatisfaction, after the way of his fathers. There was nothing personalat all in the attitude of the Guard towards the outsiders; whichrecognition was a great stride toward mutual understanding and finalhigh regard. 

All that day I saw that something was troubling the tutor from NewEngland. It was the Moral Sense of the Puritan at work, I supposed, and, that night, when I came in with a new supply of "billies" and gave oneto each of my brothers, the tutor looked up over his glasses and clearedhis throat. 

"Now, " said I to myself, "we shall catch it hot on the savagery of theSouth and the barbarous Method of keeping it down"; but before he hadsaid three words the colonel looked as though he were going to get upand slap the little dignitary on the back--which would have created asensation indeed. 

"Have you an extra one of those--those--"

"Billies?" I said, wonderingly. 

"Yes. I--I believe I shall join the Guard myself, " said the tutor fromNew England. 

CHRISTMAS NIGHT WITH SATAN

No night was this in Hades with solemn-eyed Dante, for Satan was only awoolly little black dog, and surely no dog was ever more absurdlymisnamed. When Uncle Carey first heard that name, he asked gravely:

"Why, Dinnie, where in h----, " Uncle Carey gulped slightly, "did you gethim?" And Dinnie laughed merrily, for she saw the fun of the question, and shook her black curls. 

"He didn't come f'um _that place_. "

Distinctly Satan had not come from that place. On the contrary, he mightby a miracle have dropped straight from some Happy Hunting-ground, forall the signs he gave of having touched pitch in this or another sphere. Nothing human was ever born that was gentler, merrier, more trusting ormore lovable than Satan. That was why Uncle Carey said again gravelythat he could hardly tell Satan and his little mistress apart. He rarelysaw them apart, and as both had black tangled hair and bright blackeyes; as one awoke every morning with a happy smile and the other with ajolly bark; as they played all day like wind-shaken shadows and eachwon every heart at first sight--the likeness was really rather curious. I have always believed that Satan made the spirit of Dinnie's house, orthodox and severe though it was, almost kindly toward his greatnamesake. I know I have never been able, since I knew little Satan, tothink old Satan as bad as I once painted him, though I am sure thelittle dog had many pretty tricks that the "old boy" doubtless has neverused in order to amuse his friends. 

"Shut the door, Saty, please. " Dinnie would say, precisely as she wouldsay it to Uncle Billy, the butler, and straightway Satan would launchhimself at it--bang! He never would learn to close it softly, for Satanliked that--bang!

If you kept tossing a coin or marble in the air, Satan would keepcatching it and putting it back in your hand for another throw, till yougot tired. Then he would drop it on a piece of rag carpet, snatch thecarpet with his teeth, throw the coin across the room and rush for itlike mad, until he got tired. If you put a penny on his nose, he wouldwait until you counted, one--two--_three_! Then he would toss it uphimself and catch it. Thus, perhaps, Satan grew to love Mammon rightwell, but for another and better reason than that he liked simply tothrow it around--as shall now be made plain. 

A rubber ball with a hole in it was his favorite plaything, and hewould take it in his mouth and rush around the house like a child, squeezing it to make it whistle. When he got a new ball, he would hidehis old one away until the new one was the worse worn of the two, andthen he would bring out the old one again. If Dinnie gave him a nickelor a dime, when they went down-town, Satan would rush into a store, rearup on the counter where the rubber balls were kept, drop the coin, andget a ball for himself. Thus, Satan learned finance. He began to hoard, his pennies, and one day Uncle Carey found a pile of seventeen under acorner of the carpet. Usually he carried to Dinnie all coins that hefound in the street, but he showed one day that he was going into theball-business for himself. Uncle Carey had given Dinnie a nickel forsome candy, and, as usual, Satan trotted down the street behind her. Asusual, Satan stopped before the knick-knack shop. 

"Tum on, Saty, " said Dinnie. Satan reared against the door as he alwaysdid, and Dinnie said again:

"Tum on, Saty. " As usual, Satan dropped to his haunches, but what wasunusual, he failed to bark. Now Dinnie had got a new ball for Satan onlythat morning, so Dinnie stamped her foot. 

[Illustration: Satan would drop the coin and get a ball for himself. ]

"I tell you to turn on, Saty. " Satan never moved. He looked at Dinnieas much as to say:

"I have never disobeyed you before, little mistress, but this time Ihave an excellent reason for what must seem to you very bad manners--"and being a gentleman withal, Satan rose on his haunches and begged. 

"You're des a pig, Saty, " said Dinnie, but with a sigh for the candythat was not to be, Dinnie opened the door, and Satan, to her wonder, rushed to the counter, put his forepaws on it, and dropped from hismouth a dime. Satan had found that coin on the street. He didn't barkfor change, nor beg for two balls, but he had got it in his woollylittle head, somehow, that in that store a coin meant a ball, thoughnever before nor afterward did he try to get a ball for a penny. 

Satan slept in Uncle Carey's room, for of all people, after Dinnie, Satan loved Uncle Carey best. Every day at noon he would go to anupstairs window and watch the cars come around the corner, until a verytall, square-shouldered young man swung to the ground, and down Satanwould scamper--yelping--to meet him at the gate. If Uncle Carey, aftersupper and when Dinnie was in bed, started out of the house, still inhis business clothes, Satan would leap out before him, knowing that hetoo might be allowed to go; but if Uncle Carey had put on black clothesthat showed a big, dazzling shirt-front, and picked up his high hat, Satan would sit perfectly still and look disconsolate; for as there wereno parties or theatres for Dinnie, so there were none for him. But nomatter how late it was when Uncle Carey came home, he always saw Satan'slittle black nose against the window-pane and heard his bark of welcome. 

After intelligence, Satan's chief trait was lovableness--nobody everknew him to fight, to snap at anything, or to get angry; afterlovableness, it was politeness. If he wanted something to eat, if hewanted Dinnie to go to bed, if he wanted to get out of the door, hewould beg--beg prettily on his haunches, his little red tongue out andhis funny little paws hanging loosely. Indeed, it was just because Satanwas so little less than human, I suppose, that old Satan began to beafraid he might have a soul. So the wicked old namesake with the Hoofsand Horns laid a trap for little Satan, and, as he is apt to do, hebegan laying it early--long, indeed, before Christmas. 

When Dinnie started to kindergarten that autumn, Satan found that therewas one place where he could never go. Like the lamb, he could not go toschool; so while Dinnie was away, Satan began to make friends. He wouldbark, "Howdy-do?" to every dog that passed his gate. Many stopped to rubnoses with him through the fence--even Hugo the mastiff, and nearly all, indeed, except one strange-looking dog that appeared every morning atprecisely nine o'clock and took his stand on the corner. There he wouldlie patiently until a funeral came along, and then Satan would see himtake his place at the head of the procession; and then he would marchout to the cemetery and back again. Nobody knew where he came from norwhere he went, and Uncle Carey called him the "funeral dog" and said hewas doubtless looking for his dead master. Satan even made friends witha scrawny little yellow dog that followed an old drunkard around--a dogthat, when his master fell in the gutter, would go and catch a policemanby the coat-tail, lead the officer to his helpless master, and spend thenight with him in jail. 

By and by Satan began to slip out of the house at night, and Uncle Billysaid he reckoned Satan had "jined de club"; and late one night, when hehad not come in, Uncle Billy told Uncle Carey that it was "powerfulslippery and he reckoned they'd better send de kerridge after him"--aninnocent remark that made Uncle Carey send a boot after the old butler, who fled chuckling down the stairs, and left Uncle Carey chuckling inhis room. 

Satan had "jined de club"--the big club--and no dog was too lowly inSatan's eyes for admission; for no priest ever preached the brotherhoodof man better than Satan lived it--both with man and dog. And thus helived it that Christmas night--to his sorrow. 

Christmas Eve had been gloomy--the gloomiest of Satan's life. UncleCarey had gone to a neighboring town at noon. Satan had followed himdown to the station, and when the train departed, Uncle Carey hadordered him to go home. Satan took his time about going home, notknowing it was Christmas Eve. He found strange things happening to dogsthat day. The truth was, that policemen were shooting all dogs foundthat were without a collar and a license, and every now and then a bangand a howl somewhere would stop Satan in his tracks. At a little yellowhouse on the edge of town he saw half a dozen strange dogs in a kennel, and every now and then a negro would lead a new one up to the house anddeliver him to a big man at the door, who, in return, would dropsomething into the negro's hand. While Satan waited, the old drunkardcame along with his little dog at his heels, paused before the door, looked a moment at his faithful follower, and went slowly on. Satanlittle knew the old drunkard's temptation, for in that yellow housekind-hearted people had offered fifteen cents for each dog brought tothem, without a license, that they might mercifully put it to death, andfifteen cents was the precise price for a drink of good whiskey. Justthen there was another bang and another howl somewhere, and Satantrotted home to meet a calamity. Dinnie was gone. Her mother had takenher out in the country to Grandmother Dean's to spend Christmas, as wasthe family custom, and Mrs. Dean would not wait any longer for Satan; soshe told Uncle Billy to bring him out after supper. 

"Ain't you 'shamed o' yo'self--suh--?" said the old butler, "keepin' mefrom ketchin' Christmas gifts dis day?"

Uncle Billy was indignant, for the negroes begin at four o'clock in theafternoon of Christmas Eve to slip around corners and jump from hidingplaces to shout "Christmas Gif--Christmas Gif'"; and the one who shoutsfirst gets a gift. No wonder it was gloomy for Satan--Uncle Carey, Dinnie, and all gone, and not a soul but Uncle Billy in the big house. Every few minutes he would trot on his little black legs upstairs anddownstairs, looking for his mistress. As dusk came on, he would everynow and then howl plaintively. After begging his supper, and whileUncle Billy was hitching up a horse in the stable, Satan went out in theyard and lay with his nose between the close panels of the fence--quiteheart-broken. When he saw his old friend, Hugo, the mastiff, trottinginto the gaslight, he began to bark his delight frantically. The bigmastiff stopped and nosed his sympathy through the fence for a momentand walked slowly on, Satan frisking and barking along inside. At thegate Hugo stopped, and raising one huge paw, playfully struck it. Thegate flew open, and with a happy yelp Satan leaped into the street. Thenoble mastiff hesitated as though this were not quite regular. He didnot belong to the club, and he didn't know that Satan had ever been awayfrom home after dark in his life. For a moment he seemed to wait forDinnie to call him back as she always did, but this time there was nosound, and Hugo walked majestically on, with absurd little Satan runningin a circle about him. On the way they met the "funeral dog, " whoglanced inquiringly at Satan, shied from the mastiff, and trotted on. Onthe next block the old drunkard's yellow cur ran across the street, andafter interchanging the compliments of the season, ran back after hisstaggering master. As they approached the railroad track a strange dogjoined them, to whom Hugo paid no attention. At the crossing anothernew acquaintance bounded toward them. This one--a half-breedshepherd--was quite friendly, and he received Satan's advances withaffable condescension. Then another came and another, and little Satan'shead got quite confused. They were a queer-looking lot of curs andhalf-breeds from the negro settlement at the edge of the woods, andthough Satan had little experience, his instincts told him that all wasnot as it should be, and had he been human he would have wondered verymuch how they had escaped the carnage that day. Uneasy, he looked aroundfor Hugo; but Hugo had disappeared. Once or twice Hugo had looked aroundfor Satan, and Satan paying no attention, the mastiff trotted on home indisgust. Just then a powerful yellow cur sprang out of the darkness overthe railroad track, and Satan sprang to meet him, and so nearly had thelife scared out of him by the snarl and flashing fangs of the new-comerthat he hardly had the strength to shrink back behind his new friend, the half-breed shepherd. 

A strange thing then happened. The other dogs became suddenly quiet, andevery eye was on the yellow cur. He sniffed the air once or twice, gavetwo or three peculiar low growls, and all those dogs except Satan lostthe civilization of centuries and went back suddenly to the time whenthey were wolves and were looking for a leader. The cur was Lobo forthat little pack, and after a short parley, he lifted his nose high andstarted away without looking back, while the other dogs silently trottedafter him. With a mystified yelp, Satan ran after them. The cur did nottake the turnpike, but jumped the fence into a field, making his way bythe rear of houses, from which now and then another dog would slink outand silently join the band. Every one of them Satan nosed mostfriendlily, and to his great joy the funeral dog, on the edge of thetown, leaped into their midst. Ten minutes later the cur stopped in themidst of some woods, as though he would inspect his followers. Plainly, he disapproved of Satan, and Satan kept out of his way. Then he spranginto the turnpike and the band trotted down it, under flying blackclouds and shifting bands of brilliant moonlight. Once, a buggy sweptpast them. A familiar odor struck Satan's nose, and he stopped for amoment to smell the horse's tracks; and right he was, too, for out ather grandmother's Dinnie refused to be comforted, and in that buggy wasUncle Billy going back to town after him. 

Snow was falling. It was a great lark for Satan. Once or twice, as hetrotted along, he had to bark his joy aloud, and each time the big curgave him such a fierce growl that he feared thereafter to open hisjaws. But he was happy for all that, to be running out into the nightwith such a lot of funny friends and not to know or care where he wasgoing. He got pretty tired presently, for over hill and down hill theywent, at that unceasing trot, trot, trot! Satan's tongue began to hangout. Once he stopped to rest, but the loneliness frightened him and heran on after them with his heart almost bursting. He was about to lieright down and die, when the cur stopped, sniffed the air once or twice, and with those same low growls, led the marauders through a rail fenceinto the woods, and lay quietly down. How Satan loved that soft, thickgrass, all snowy that it was! It was almost as good as his own bed athome. And there they lay--how long, Satan never knew, for he went tosleep and dreamed that he was after a rat in the barn at home; and heyelped in his sleep, which made the cur lift his big yellow head andshow his fangs. The moving of the half-breed shepherd and the funeraldog waked him at last, and Satan got up. Half crouching, the cur wasleading the way toward the dark, still woods on top of the hill, overwhich the Star of Bethlehem was lowly sinking, and under which lay aflock of the gentle creatures that seemed to have been almost sacred tothe Lord of that Star. They were in sore need of a watchful shepherdnow. Satan was stiff and chilled, but he was rested and had had hissleep, and he was just as ready for fun as he always was. He didn'tunderstand that sneaking. Why they didn't all jump and race and bark ashe wanted to, he couldn't see; but he was too polite to do otherwisethan as they did, and so he sneaked after them; and one would havethought he knew, as well as the rest, the hellish mission on which theywere bent. 

Out of the woods they went, across a little branch, and there the bigcur lay flat again in the grass. A faint bleat came from the hill-sidebeyond, where Satan could see another woods--and then another bleat, andanother. And the cur began to creep again, like a snake in the grass;and the others crept too, and little Satan crept, though it was all asad mystery to him. Again the cur lay still, but only long enough forSatan to see curious, fat, white shapes above him--and then, with ablood-curdling growl, the big brute dashed forward. Oh, there was fun inthem after all! Satan barked joyfully. Those were some newplaymates--those fat, white, hairy things up there; and Satan was amazedwhen, with frightened snorts, they fled in every direction. But this wasa new game, perhaps, of which he knew nothing, and as did the rest, sodid Satan. He picked out one of the white things and fled barking afterit. It was a little fellow that he was after, but little as he was, Satan might never have caught up, had not the sheep got tangled in somebrush. Satan danced about him in mad glee, giving him a playful nip athis wool and springing back to give him another nip, and then awayagain. Plainly, he was not going to bite back, and when the sheepstruggled itself tired and sank down in a heap, Satan came close andlicked him, and as he was very warm and woolly, he lay down and snuggledup against him for awhile, listening to the turmoil that was going onaround him. And as he listened, he got frightened. 

If this was a new game it was certainly a very peculiar one--the wildrush, the bleats of terror, gasps of agony, and the fiendish growls ofattack and the sounds of ravenous gluttony. With every hair bristling, Satan rose and sprang from the woods--and stopped with a fierce tinglingof the nerves that brought him horror and fascination. One of the whiteshapes lay still before him. There was a great steaming red splotch onthe snow, and a strange odor in the air that made him dizzy; but onlyfor a moment. Another white shape rushed by. A tawny streak followed, and then, in a patch of moonlight, Satan saw the yellow cur with histeeth fastened in the throat of his moaning playmate. Like lightningSatan sprang at the cur, who tossed him ten feet away and went back tohis awful work. Again Satan leaped, but just then a shout rose behindhim, and the cur leaped too as though a bolt of lightning had crashedover him, and, no longer noticing Satan or sheep, began to quiver withfright and slink away. Another shout rose from another direction--anotherfrom another. 

"Drive 'em into the barn-yard!" was the cry. 

Now and then there was a fearful bang and a howl of death-agony, as somedog tried to break through the encircling men, who yelled and cursed asthey closed in on the trembling brutes that slunk together and crept on;for it is said, every sheep-killing dog knows his fate if caught, andwill make little effort to escape. With them went Satan, through thebarn-yard gate, where they huddled in a corner--a shamed and terrifiedgroup. A tall overseer stood at the gate. 

"Ten of 'em!" he said grimly. 

He had been on the lookout for just such a tragedy, for there hadrecently been a sheep-killing raid on several farms in thatneighborhood, and for several nights he had had a lantern hung out onthe edge of the woods to scare the dogs away; but a drunken farm-handhad neglected his duty that Christmas Eve. 

"Yassuh, an' dey's jus' sebenteen dead sheep out dar, " said a negro. 

"Look at the little one, " said a tall boy who looked like the overseer;and Satan knew that he spoke of him. 

"Go back to the house, son, " said the overseer, "and tell your mother togive you a Christmas present I got for you yesterday. " With a glad whoopthe boy dashed away, and in a moment dashed back with a brand-new . 32Winchester in his hand. 

The dark hour before dawn was just breaking on Christmas Day. It was thehour when Satan usually rushed upstairs to see if his little mistresswas asleep. If he were only at home now, and if he only had known howhis little mistress was weeping for him amid her playthings and his--twonew balls and a brass-studded collar with a silver plate on which washis name, Satan Dean; and if Dinnie could have seen him now, her heartwould have broken; for the tall boy raised his gun. There was a jet ofsmoke, a sharp, clean crack, and the funeral dog started on the rightway at last toward his dead master. Another crack, and the yellow curleaped from the ground and fell kicking. Another crack and another, andwith each crack a dog tumbled, until little Satan sat on his haunchesamid the writhing pack, alone. His time was now come. As the rifle wasraised, he heard up at the big house the cries of children; the poppingof fire-crackers; tooting of horns and whistles and loud shouts of"Christmas Gif', Christmas Gif'!" His little heart beat furiously. Perhaps he knew just what he was doing; perhaps it was the accident ofhabit; most likely Satan simply wanted to go home--but when that gunrose, Satan rose too, on his haunches, his tongue out, his black eyessteady and his funny little paws hanging loosely--and begged! The boylowered the gun. 

"Down, sir!" Satan dropped obediently, but when the gun was liftedagain, Satan rose again, and again he begged. 

"Down, I tell you!" This time Satan would not down, but sat begging forhis life. The boy turned. 

"Papa, I can't shoot that dog. " Perhaps Satan had reached the stern oldoverseer's heart. Perhaps he remembered suddenly that it was Christmas. At any rate, he said gruffly:

"Well, let him go. "

"Come here, sir!" Satan bounded toward the tall boy, frisking andtrustful and begged again. 

"Go home, sir!"

Satan needed no second command. Without a sound he fled out thebarn-yard, and, as he swept under the front gate, a little girl ran outof the front door of the big house and dashed down the steps, shrieking:

"Saty! Saty! Oh, Saty!" But Satan never heard. On he fled, across thecrisp fields, leaped the fence and struck the road, lickety-split! forhome, while Dinnie dropped sobbing in the snow. 

"Hitch up a horse, quick, " said Uncle Carey, rushing after Dinnie andtaking her up in his arms. Ten minutes later, Uncle Carey and Dinnie, both warmly bundled up, were after flying Satan. They never caught himuntil they reached the hill on the outskirts of town, where was thekennel of the kind-hearted people who were giving painless death toSatan's four-footed kind, and where they saw him stop and turn from theroad. There was divine providence in Satan's flight for one little dogthat Christmas morning; for Uncle Carey saw the old drunkard staggeringdown the road without his little companion, and a moment later, both heand Dinnie saw Satan nosing a little yellow cur between the palings. Uncle Carey knew the little cur, and while Dinnie was shrieking forSatan, he was saying under his breath:

"Well, I swear!--I swear!--I swear!" And while the big man who came tothe door was putting Satan into Dinnie's arms, he said, sharply:

"Who brought that yellow dog here?" The man pointed to the olddrunkard's figure turning a corner at the foot of the hill. 

"I thought so; I thought so. He sold him to you for--for a drink ofwhiskey. "

The man whistled. 

"Bring him out. I'll pay his license. "

So back went Satan and the little cur to Grandmother Dean's--and Dinniecried when Uncle Carey told her why he was taking the little cur along. With her own hands she put Satan's old collar on the little brute, tookhim to the kitchen, and fed him first of all. Then she went into thebreakfast-room. 

"Uncle Billy, " she said severely, "didn't I tell you not to let Satyout?"

"Yes, Miss Dinnie, " said the old butler. 

"Didn't I tell you I was goin' to whoop you if you let Saty out?"

"Yes, Miss Dinnie. "

Miss Dinnie pulled forth from her Christmas treasures a toy riding-whipand the old darky's eyes began to roll in mock terror. 

"I'm sorry, Uncle Billy, but I des got to whoop you a little. "

"Let Uncle Billy off, Dinnie, " said Uncle Carey, "this is Christmas. "

"All wite, " said Dinnie, and she turned to Satan. 

In his shining new collar and innocent as a cherub, Satan sat on thehearth begging for his breakfast.