Part 5

Iry's conscientiousness is very gratifying. I wish that I could remove the interdict made at first for Jason's protection; but probably it had better remain now for Iry's.

_Friday Night._

When Jason and Keats came up from the wash-house to-night in their fresh gowns, looking startlingly clean, (I let them bathe together because Keats is so kind-hearted, and carries the water from kettles to tubs for Jason, and even washes his back for him) I handed Keats a pair of scissors. "Do you mind cutting Jason's toe-nails?" I asked; "I notice that they are dreadfully long."

To my utter confounding, Jason threw himself on the floor, kicking and beating it violently and letting out terrific yells.

"Why, it won't hurt you, dear," I said, "or, if you fear Keats will, I will gladly do it myself."

The howls and yells increased if possible.

"He haint afeared of being hurt," said Keats; "he just don't aim to part with them toe-nails."

"Why?" I inquired.

"He needs 'em in his business. He fights with 'em. I found it out when him and Hen fit a-Tuesday. He tried it on me, the feisty little skunk! That's the way he lays out the day-schools five-at-a-time. He jobs out the eyes of two with his thumbs, and bites and butts another, and rakes the shins of two more with his toe-nails, and whups out five as easy as falling off a log!"

"They certainly must come off then," I declared sternly. "You hold one leg, and Killis one, and Philip and Taulbee his arms and head, and I'll cut them off!"

And thus surprised of his secret, and bound by the Philistines, my little Samson was shorn.

_Saturday Afternoon._

Before breakfast I called Iry into my room. "How much muscle have you got?" I inquired.

The "pure scholar" bared a small, skeleton arm, on which a creditable knot of muscle rose as he flexed it.

"You are really a pretty good fighter, aren't you?" I asked.

"Paw he'd knock me in the head if I weren't."

"Very well. I told you once not to fight Jason Wyatt. I may have been wrong in doing so. Next time he picks on you, fight him back."

Just before noon, Nucky ran into the cottage with bulging eyes. "That 'ere little Iry is a-giving Jason the best whupping down in the stable-lot ever you seed. Jason he got to feisting around him ag'in, and he just grabbed him unexpected, and laid him out, and now he's choking the life out of him!"

"Good!" I cried, hurrying back to see the combat. All the boys were miraculously gathered, and the wash-girls also looked on with delight. Jason tried all his tricks, but could not once free himself from the relentless grasp. Both arms were pinioned, one by a leg, one by an arm of Iry's, his head was held down by the dreadful hand at his throat; only his legs were free, and they alas, were useless,--his toes passed harmlessly over Iry's face and neck and ears!

Not until he had held out to the verge of suffocation did the conquered conqueror at last gasp for mercy, and being let up, crawl off under the corncrib to sob out his rage and shame in peace.

Doubtless this will do him much good.

XIII

AROUND THE FIRE

_Second Monday, October._

Though the days are still warm, the nights are getting cool, and for the sake of bare toes we began last night having a fire in the sitting-room. It was the one thing needed,--I see that with its glowing warmth to gather around, our family life will henceforth be much more intimate and cheerful. Sydney Lanier says that two things are necessary to the making of a real home,--an open fire and music. We have both. The fire had hardly begun to crackle before Absalom had the banjo out, and was singing in the chimney corner,--not bloody, recent song-ballads this time, but, to my joy, famous old English ones forgotten centuries ago by the rest of the world but wonderfully preserved here in the mountain country. "Barbara Allen" was one ballad he sang; "Turkish Lady," "The Brown Girl," and "The Specter Ship" were others. All the tunes were queer, minor, and long-drawn-out, and sung in a kind of falsetto; and between verses there is a very weary period of picking.

The boys all declare they prefer the newer ballads, such as "Blant's Revengement," and "The Doom of the Mohuns," and that these old ones are fit only for women-folks; but I noticed they listened absorbed.

_Friday._

Yesterday a wagon came in from the railroad,--a great occasion it is when one arrives, all of us women flocking out and surrounding it before the mules can stop, and receiving the packages and boxes destined for us as if they were the most precious jewels,--indeed, they are valuable after coming that long and difficult way. I was glad to find that my cheerful dresses ordered last month had arrived, as well as the wire corn-poppers and some rolls of wall-paper with great red roses for our sitting-room.

_Saturday Night._

Cleo and Howard put the lovely red paper on our sitting-room to-day,--when the boys and I came in from the garden it was all done, and a shout of delight went up. Of course they have never seen anything so beautiful.

I had another surprise for them. Prettiest of all my new dresses is a cardinal crêpe de chine, exactly matching the wall-paper. I put it on for supper to-night, getting to the dining-room a little late. There was much excitement at our table as I entered, and Jason created a sensation by calling out, in his shrill voice, "Oh, yander comes my red stick of candy!" Nucky said not a word; but the pride in his eyes was sufficient. All during the meal, the boys vied with one another in passing me things, and in saying "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am"; and I saw them glancing around at other tables to observe the effect of my grand costume.

Who, seeing me sit here before our cottage fire this evening, clothed in the color of life and joy, with my happy and cheerful family close around, would ever believe me to be the same woman who arrived here something more than two months ago, with a heart even more dark and desolate than her garb of woe? Truly, the ways and goodness of God are past imagining.

_Thursday Night._

That the fraternal affection of the little Salyers is sound at the core (much evidence to the contrary notwithstanding) was proved beyond doubt by an occurrence last night. Hen is by nature deliberate, and is especially so about washing his feet and getting undressed at night, not yet having become reconciled in his mind to either process. He always retires after Keats, and, now the nights are cooler, first tries to root Keats out of his warm place, and, failing in that, doubles up and plants his cold feet in the middle of Keats's back. The long-suffering Keats rebels, and then follow howls, yells and a pitched battle, with shrill cries for me from Geordie Yonts, the third boy in the bed. When I arrive, the covers are on the floor, and the brothers fighting all over their own bed, the other bed and boys, and the entire room, and calling down horrible imprecations upon each other. In vain I have forbidden the use of the shocking language,--neither threats nor punishments have prevailed. Last night, after a particularly bad time, I called them into my room, explained to them the full meaning of the words they were using, and asked if either could possibly hate his brother enough to wish to consign him to eternal torment. They made no answer, but went off looking thoughtful. To-night when shrieks and howls announced the usual battle, and I hurried to the scene, the Salyers were pounding each other as mercilessly as ever, but this time, to my unspeakable relief, they were calling out furiously, "God _help_ you!" "God _help_ you!",--a decided change for the better, and, I thought, a most timely petition!

In their sane moments now, they talk of nothing but Cousin Emmeline's funeral occasion and the visit home; and it is impossible for them to decide whom they most desire to see,--whether Nervesty, or Sammy, or Ponto, or the steers Buck and Brandy; while their longing extends also to the other children, and to Charlie the "flea-bit" nag, Ole Suke, the "pied" cow, Reddy the heifer, and the black sow, Julia.

_Sunday Evening._

On our way to the "church-house" this morning, I noticed that Iry wore the long, ample homespun trousers in which he arrived. "Where are the Sunday breeches I gave you?" I inquired.

"There they air," he said, pointing to Geordie's fat legs, which seemed about to burst out of a pair of dark blue short trousers.

"Iry he just pestered me into trading with him," was Geordie's explanation, "he said he were bound to have that gold ring I got out of a prize box last week. Show it to her, Iry."

Iry put forth a small, dingy hand, adorned with a large, elaborate brass ring.

"But you can see that wasn't a fair trade," I said indignantly to Geordie.

"I knowed it weren't,--I knowed that ring were worth five times them breeches, and I'd never see its like ag'in. But I felt sorry for him, he wanted it so bad."

"No, I mean just the other way," I said sharply, "you paid a nickel for that prize-box, didn't you?"

"Yes'm."

"And there was candy in it?"

"A little-grain."

"And you ate it?"

"What there were of it."

"And now you want to trade him the ring, which cannot be worth more than two cents, for his Sunday breeches."

The "born trader" looked at me pityingly. "Miss Loring," he said, "womenfolks haint got no understanding of prize-boxes. Sometimes you pay your nickel down and don't git ary thing in 'em; and then ag'in there's jewelries nobody can't tell _what_ they worth, they so fine. Thaint nary ring like that ever been seed in these parts. Iry Atkins's got the onliest ring like it on Perilous, or I reckon in Kent County, or maybe in Kentucky! What's breeches to that?"

To this master argument, the fact that the ring would not keep Iry's legs warm in winter seemed a puerile answer; still, with cold weather coming on, and clothing scarce as hens' teeth, I was compelled to break up the trade, and to forbid Geordie's making any more.

In the afternoon we went up Perilous, persimmon and buckeye hunting, and later, after filling their shirt-fronts with the shiny ammunition, the boys lined up on opposite sides of the creek and had a buckeye-battle.

After supper I began reading the Story of Odysseus. When we came to the place where the hero makes his escape from the cave of Polyphemus, Nucky interrupted to tell the tale he promised while we were on Trigger, of Blant's escape last spring, when for the first and only time he was arrested by officers. It was the day when he was "laywayed" by Elhannon, Todd and Dalt, and had killed one, and almost killed the other two. The sheriff happened to be on Powderhorn, near the mouth of Trigger, at the time, received the news at once, and reached the Marrs home within an hour after the occurrence. Blant, not dreaming of so prompt an attempt at arrest, was sitting before the fire cleaning his forty-five; and before he knew it, the sheriff stepped between him and his ammunition. Quiet surrender was the only possible thing. The sheriff and deputy started with him to the jail here in our village; but, being overtaken by darkness on the way, were obliged to stop overnight at a wayside house. Blant went to bed, handcuffed, between the sheriff and deputy, each of whom retired with a loaded revolver in his hand. In the morning the prisoner was gone, the blanket that had covered the three swung from the window, and the two revolvers were found on the ground beneath, placed neatly side by side.

"Thaint no men or no prison nowhere Blant couldn't git away from if he was a mind to," said Nucky; "he wouldn't fool around and see his friends et up like Odysseus."

The character of Odysseus also brought out some family history from Geordie and Absalom. It appears that their grandfather, Old George Yonts, was a man noted in several ways, as a hard-shell preacher, as a wonderful nag-trader, and, like Odysseus, as a man of craft and guile in wars. Warring factions would come to him for advice; and his stratagems, when carried out, were brilliantly successful. The boys, with much pride, told some awful instances. They also said that all of his thirteen sons were "mean men," their own father having met death at too early an age to become as distinguished as the other twelve. As I listened, I marvelled, not that the "born trader's" morality is a little oblique, but that he has any at all.

_Wednesday._

To-day I saw Philip hold out a handful of chestnuts to Taulbee, his bosom friend, with the words, "Don't take more'n five,--you're owing me now. You haint gone treat for allus!" Perfect candor is evidently the sure, if rocky, foundation of their relationship.

_Saturday Night._

More family history as we were roasting sweet-potatoes in the hot ashes under our fire to-night. Iry said he could recollect roasting them while the men made his maw's coffin. "I never knowed no better," he said; "I weren't but three, and thought she was laying there asleep. I wondered what them men was a-hammering at outside. When I seed 'em take her off in it, I knowed."

"She were the best step-maw ever I had," remarked Joab, feelingly.

"How many have you had?" I inquired.

"Oh, paw he's had about five women," he mused. "My maw first, and then Iry's, and there's three sence. Serildy Byng, his next-to-last, was a middling civil woman; but she never stayed long. This last one is just fifteen, and haint got no manners. I have to fight her most every day, she picks on me'n Iry so. Paw he has a sorry time learning her to behave."

"I have heared something about your paw being right smart of a mean man," said Philip.

"Bet he can't hold a candle to Blant," put in Nucky, jealously.

"Maybe he can't, and maybe he can," drawled Joab, provokingly.

"Nobody haint as quick on the trigger as Blant," declared Nucky; "I'll bet nobody haint kilt and wounded more inside a few months than him, or would have been in jail more times if the officers could have kotch him and helt him."

"Jail," murmured Joab, contemptuously, "jail haint nothing! My paw's spent two year at Frankfort!"

The boys all exclaimed in admiration. "Gee-oh," said Philip, with new respect, "I never knowed he'd been penitentiaried."

"How many has he kilt?" inquired Nucky, skeptically.

"Oh, no more'n he had to," drawled Joab.

"I heared something about his killing off a few Lusks," said Taulbee.

"Yes, a few," admitted Joab; "Serildy Byng, that next-to-last of his, she got to talking some to a couple of the Lusks, and paw got wind of it, and kotch 'em a-hanging around one day. But he never kilt but one dead; and soon as t'other got able to talk, he sot all the Lusks ag'in paw,--there was nine on his track, laywaying and ambushing. At last one day they all rid up behind him over on the head of Rakeshin. He seed a turn in the road ahead, where there was a big rock. Every time they'd shoot, he'd jump like he was hit; and just as he got to the rock, he spraddled out flat on his nag, like he was dead. That was the last they seed, and they come up a-whooping, thinking they had him kilt. And about that time six of 'em got bullets in 'em, and three drapped dead; for paw had clim up on the rock and was a-laying for 'em. Time the rest of the Lusks got up from their wounds, they allowed paw was a mean enough man to leave alone."

Nucky was silenced. The impressive pause that followed was at last broken by Philip. "What did he do to Serildy?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, but shoot off a piece of her jaw and a little-grain of her scalp."

Philip meditated again. "I expect that's the reason Serildy left your paw, haint it? Women's so quare."

"Maybe," replied Joab, indifferently.

Oh, my perfect gentleman!

_Thursday._

Shinny went out and ball came in yesterday. When at noon the boys all ran to me begging for yarn (of course store balls are an unknown luxury) and when later I saw Philip, Keats and Hosea ravelling out old socks they said they had bought from Geordie, Taulbee engaged upon a piece of the old comforter he had traded off for a pop-gun, and now bought back at a ruinous price, and heard Killis and Joab bemoaning the fact that they had traded mittens and socks off for pop-guns, and telling of the vast sums Geordie was making selling these and like remains to the "day-schools," I realized that even as far back as pop-gun time the forelooker was dealing in ball futures, and that his transactions then were not even as magnanimous as I had supposed them to be.

Saturday and Sunday are the longed-for days of Cousin Emmeline's funeral occasion, we are to start to-morrow (Friday) afternoon, and the "two homesicks" are beside themselves with joy.

XIV

THE VISIT HOME, AND THE FUNERAL OCCASION

_Sunday Night._

Friday noon the little Salyers, Jason (whom I did not dare leave behind) and I were all ready to start. Nucky, who has the stable job, had just brought Mandy around in the road and helped me into the saddle, and was handing me a switch, when suddenly I saw his fingers stiffen, his eyes widen, his face pale. Looking around for the cause, I saw two youngish men riding past in the road. Apparently they did not see him; but he eyed them with concentrated hatred. I hardly needed his low-spoken words, "Todd and Dalt," to tell me who they were.

"I got to go home quick as I can get there," he said, when they had passed out of hearing.

"You shall do nothing of the kind," I declared; "you heard Blant's commands on the subject. He is perfectly able to take care of himself, and does not want you. I, too, command you to stay here."

"But he _haint_ able to take care of hisself now he's got the babe on his hands," Nucky insisted; "he can't noway keep lookout: of course they have come back to kill him if they can. I couldn't rest here a minute."

"Nevertheless, I command you to stay," I said sternly, as I took my departure.

But for my anxiety about him, and about this new threatening of "war" on Trigger, my visit to the little Salyers' home would have been a perfect thing. The day was glorious as we went, the mountains one blaze of reds, yellows and greens. All the way, the "two homesicks" were urging Mandy on with voice or hickory or both; while, entranced with the beauty, I earnestly wished that she might be permitted to go her natural gait.

After following Perilous four miles, we turned up Nancy's Perilous, and went along it nearly an hour before we reached a small log house, almost hidden in apple trees, and Mrs. Salyer, with the four little children and Ponto trailing before and after, came out to welcome us. Although tears of joy stood in her eyes, she did not hug or kiss or "make over" her boys,--such displays of feeling being permissible only in or over babies. Little Sammy availed himself of his privilege to the fullest extent, gurgling, laughing and shouting at sight of his brothers, while Ponto, in equal exemption from the bonds of etiquette, nearly knocked them down in his joy. The two pretty little girls of five and three, being exhorted to "shake hands with the woman, Susanna and Neely," did so most politely; and Hiram, the seven-year-old, tore his gaze from Jason (they were engaged in a mutual size-up) long enough to go through the same ceremony.

The boys made at once for the apple trees, and I was invited in. Mrs. Salyer was just finishing her day's stint of weaving, and sat in the loom and threw the swift shuttle while we conversed. Seeing her for the first time without the black sunbonnet, I realized where the boys get their extreme beauty.

I asked her, of course, about family history, and learned that her ancestors, too, came out from Old Virginia more than a century ago, and had been men of education and parts. "The later generations," she said, "haint had the ghost of a chance, shut away here without no l'arning, and so hard put to it to keep bread in their mouths that half of 'em never hears what's happening yan side the mountain. It don't look like it's right for young ones to grow up this way, without no show at all. I am determined mine shall get one."

She also talked a good deal about Mr. Salyer, who she says was "as pretty a man as the wind ever blowed on," and one of the "workingest" in this section. Evidently she feels his loss very deeply; but she faces life with prodigious courage, shouldering his burdens in addition to her own, and thinking nothing of plowing, grubbing, clearing, and like heavy work, which she does cheerfully rather than keep her boys out of school. Her faith is touching. "God has give me this fine mess of young ones," she says; "now I look to Him for strength to feed and raise them."

Several times our conversation was interrupted by shy statements from the little girls that Hiram and Jason were fighting all over the yard; but no bloodshed being as yet reported, little attention was paid.

When the time came for active preparations for supper, I was taken out by the boys to "see things." First, the nags, Mandy and the "flea-bit" Charlie, were watered in the branch, and fed; then the steers must be brought down and "nubbined." They were grazing far up in a hollow, but at a word Ponto was off, and soon brought them down, starting again on a quest of his own. Then the boys put yokes on them and drove them around the steep stable-lot for my pleasure. Keats said he and Hen had to tie their tails together while breaking them, to keep them from turning the yokes; but now they go along quietly, as well conducted steers should, and evidently with perfect understanding of the strange talk of their young masters, which was Greek to me. I could comprehend the "Gee, Buck!",--"Git along there, Brandy!"; but the oft-repeated "Oo-cum-weh, woo-oo!", and "Now-wa-_chat_-tum!" were indeed puzzling. Then Ole Suke, the pied cow, hearing the excitement, came up, or rather, down, of her own accord, followed by Reddy the heifer, whose little spotted calf welcomed her loudly across the rails. Nothing would do but Keats must milk Reddy then and there, to demonstrate the remarkable deficiency of the "blind teat" before-mentioned.

Just as he had proved this to everybody's satisfaction, yelps from Ponto could be heard approaching, and in another moment a large, raw-boned black sow stepped sedately out of the woods on the other side of the branch, and stood meditating. An instant later, she was surrounded by a company of half-grown shoats, which squealed and scurried before Ponto's onslaughts. But evidently Julia herself lived in a serene atmosphere, and took orders from no one. After scrutinizing all of us, and assuring herself that the boys really were Keats and Hen, she grunted deeply and came forward. Not until she got out of the tall weeds, and into the branch, was the joyful discovery made that nine little new pigs followed her closely and shamefacedly. They could not be two days old,--of course they had come purposely to celebrate the boys' visit home,--no one could doubt that! Great was the delight that followed, great the pride expressed in Julia and all her performances. And what a good bait of corn Julia and the shoats got, while the babies helped themselves to their dinner, all but the poor little runt, who was crowded entirely out of reach of his until Hen spanked two of the others and made a place for him!