Part 8

Philip dashed off, and the rest of us went to work to make a stretcher, with two poles and plenty of warm blankets. I know little about these matters, but I believed that the child could be taken easily and safely across the mountains, by relays of men, and that if I could once get him to the trained nurse she would manage to keep life in him.

Then Blant fed us; and about two o'clock we set forth down Trigger, Blant, Rich and two others bearing the stretcher, and four more young men going along to relieve them every half-hour.

As we went slowly down Trigger, we saw a crowd gathered at Israel Cheever's home, too. "Dalt is bad wounded by the little chap's rifle," said one of "Uncle Billy's boys", "I wisht it had been Todd."

When the stretcher changed hands, we carefully examined Nucky for any change in pulse or temperature. There was none.

Nearly six hours the march lasted,--the way was rough, the snow and ice made the footing uncertain, the evening hours before the moon rose were dark. At last we made the last turn, and came in sight of the school and the village beyond. Rich Tarrant then laid a hand on Blant's arm.

"Right here is where you take a back track, Blant," he said, firmly; "it haint sensible for you to walk right spang into the teeth of the sheriff and the jail,--you can't afford to lose no time that way, your family not being able to do without you."

"That's so," said Blant, "I plumb forgot. Seems like I can't stand to leave the little chap, though."

"You got it to do. He'll be took good care of. You follow the ridges back."

Blant laid a large, tender hand on Nucky's head, and without a word, turned and struck straight up the nearest mountain, Rich watching till he was out of sight.

"That boy certainly sees more than his fill of trouble," he sighed; "I wisht I could help him more,--I would glad lay down my life for him."

"You proved that last winter," I said, remembering the bullet he took in his breast.

"Oh, that wa'n't nothing at all," he deprecated.

Sure enough, when we reached the hospital, there in the crowd of people who had heard of our coming and gathered to meet us, was the sheriff.

And now Nucky is safe in the nurse's care, his wounds properly dressed, and all means being used to keep life in him, the surgeon is on the way, and if he can live until to-morrow, he may be saved. I can only watch and pray.

XXI

SUSPENSE

_Wednesday Morning._

The best surgeon in the state arrived at noon yesterday, performed the trephining at once, and having done all that skill and science could, started back on his long horseback ride. Nucky continued in the deep sleep from which he might pass into either life or death. All afternoon, and into the night, we watched in vain for signs of returning consciousness. About ten, the door opened noiselessly, and Blant and Rich stepped in out of the night. Two hours later, Nucky's head began to move from side to side, and he moaned occasionally. A little past one, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Blant.

"They never got you, did they?" he asked, feebly.

"Who, son?"

"Todd and Dalt; they was fixing to layway you when I fired on them."

"Is that what made you disobey orders?" inquired Blant.

"Yes. The whole bunch of Cheevers come up to the fence, and started to throw down rails; and I was just about to drap down and fetch you the word, when I heared Todd tell the rest to make all the noise they could, so's to tole you out, and him and Dalt would hide in the trees and shoot you as you passed. And then they clim the fence and made for the very spruce-pines where I was at. I knowed I couldn't get away then to warn you, so I done my best to shoot 'em."

Blant's face darkened, but his voice was gentleness itself as he said, "You done wise, son; and you certainly hit your mark, too,--they was carrying off Dalt when I got down."

Nucky sighed, deeply, happily, closing his eyes.

After a while he opened them again to say, "I allow they shot me up a little too, by these here rags on my head."

"Oh, a trifle, yes,--but none to hurt,--you wa'n't born to die by no Cheever lead."

"Gee, no," breathed Nucky, in quiet scorn.

"We brung you over here to the women, where you could get well sooner," continued Blant, in his gentle, reassuring voice; "and now since you are doing so fine, I reckon I'll leave you a spell and get along home,--the babe is punier than usual."

"Yes, I don't want you to stay here and get arrested," said Nucky; "but I don't want you to go back there neither. You keep a constant watch on Todd,--I wish it was him I had shot."

Rich and I followed Blant out. Not until we stood out in the snow did we wring one another's hands in speechless relief.

"Of course he will live now," I said.

To-day Nucky is entirely rational, though quite weak. Only the nurse sees him. Killis, Taulbee, Keats, Hosea and Joab came in for news of him to-day, returning immediately on their long walks.

_Friday._

I was permitted to visit Nucky to-day. He is still forbidden to talk, but he smiled his old bright smile, and I read Pilgrim's Progress to him until he fell asleep.

_Sunday Morning._

All the boys came back to school yesterday from their vacation, several with gifts for me,--a dozen eggs from the little Salyers, a fine ground-hog-hide from Joab ("it'll make you shoe-strings enough to last a lifetime," he said), a handsome hen from Taulbee, four huge sweet-potatoes from Hosea, and an elegant green glass breastpin from Geordie. Of course the one topic of conversation last night was "Trojan" and his performance, in which they take endless pride. "I allow Basil Beaumont will sure make up a song-ballad about him now," said Absalom.

They also brought the news that Dalt Cheever is probably "aiming to live",--thank heaven if it is true, for I cannot bear that Nucky's hands should be stained with human blood. Doubtless, however, it will be a keen disappointment to him.

_Monday._

As I was about to leave the cottage for the hospital last night after supper, the boys were all bewailing the fact that they had not been able to stay at home over Old Christmas. I asked them what they meant by "Old Christmas."

"You brought-on women," said Taulbee, "thinks New Christmas is real Christmas; but it haint. Real Christmas comes to-morrow, on the sixth of January; and to-night is right Christmas Eve."

"What makes you think so?"

"All the old folks says so, for one thing, and they knows better than young ones; and the plants and the beasts knows better still. Tonight's the night when the elder blossoms out at midnight, and the cattle kneels down and prays,--anybody can hear 'em a-lowing and mowing if they stay awake to listen."

I have a hazy recollection of the English calendar having been changed and set forward eleven days in the middle of the eighteenth century, and of the mass of the people in England and the colonies refusing to accept the new date for Christmas. This survival in the mountain country is indeed remarkable.

I sat keeping watch beside Nucky when the clock struck midnight, and got up and went to the window to look and listen. If, in the wintry moonlight, any gaunt, bare stalks put forth miraculous blossoms above the snow, or if reverent cattle knelt and lowed loving welcome to their Lord, my eyes and ears were holden that I did not see and hear; but I know that it was Real Christmas in my heart as I turned back and saw my child breathing quietly on his bed, a faint color in his pale cheeks again.

_Wednesday._

Another visit from Blant to Nucky last night. In reply to eager questions, Blant gave Nucky a very encouraging account of the state of affairs on Trigger. "Never seed things quieter," he said; "it looks like your shot had settled 'em a while. The talk now is that Dalt will likely get well, which I allow you will grieve to hear." A shade of heavy disappointment immediately fell upon Nucky's countenance. "But," continued Blant, "it is good news to me,--I don't like the notion of your having to start in killing at your age."

After we were out on the porch, Blant repeated to me, "Yes, I am proud to know the little chap haint got blood on his hands yet awhile. You may think it quare, but it really goes again' the grain with me to see a man kilt, even when he needs killing."

"Is it true," I questioned him as he stepped out into the snow, "that things are so quiet on Trigger?"

He smiled slightly. "Oh yes," he said; "quiet enough,--in fact, they are quiet as death,--not a speck of trouble in plain sight nowhere. But I got a bullet through my hat Friday night as I crossed the passage from the kitchen to t'other house, and heared another whiz nigh while I watered the nags yesterday evening. It all happens along towards dark."

"This is horrible," I said.

"Yes, it's low-down. Folks ought to fight in the open if they got any fighting to do."

"Is Richard staying with you?"

"Day and night. I allow he's setting with the babe this minute. All I'm afeared of is that they will shoot him in place of me. But we keep all the windows blanketed and chinks stopped of a night."

XXII

THE EECH, AND TRAGEDY

_Thursday._

Ever since Philip's return he has been scratching himself in the most annoying manner. Before I started for the hospital to-night, he came into my room, clawing viciously at his ankles. "Gimme something for the eech," he said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For the eech,--I knowed I'd ketch it when I seed Dewey Lovel pawing round so them nights I spent with him."

"Do you mean the itch?" I inquired, sharply.

"No, I mean the eech,--the seven-year-eech I reckon this is, by the way it feels."

"I have no idea what to do for such a disease as the itch!" I replied, helplessly.

Philip danced on one foot, clawing his arms now. "'Itch',--listen at that now, boys,--she calls the eech the itch,--don't know no better,--ha! ha!"

"What do people do for it?" I asked.

"Some rubs on lard-and-sulphur; and some axle-grease."

"I'll ask the nurse for medicine,--go along now, please,--_don't_ stand so near me!"

"Get enough for three," was his parting remark, "Taulbee and Hose is beginning to scratch too!"

Yes, get enough for a dozen, he had better say!

_Saturday, P. M._

This afternoon bows and spikes (arrows) became violently the fashion. All the boys went up the mountain side to get hickory limbs for bows, and arrowwood for "spikes". But from Geordie alone can be bought the horse-shoe nails (Hosea's before popgun time) which, when hammered flat at the head, shaped around a nail, and then fitted on the end of a spike, make a truly dangerous and desirable weapon. These nails are held at five cents apiece; but when the buyer has no money, as usually happens, the set of marbles received in his Christmas stocking is acceptable. As Keats says, what good are "marvles" anyway, with the ground either snow or slush all the time?

_Sunday Morning._

My fears are verified. Every boy on the place is scratching; and I too have an irresistible impulse in that direction.

_Sunday Night._

All my family in quarantine with the itch, and I myself experiencing all the agonies. I think it is King James who says, "The Itch is a disease well worth the having, for the satisfaction afforded by scratching"; but I am forced to dissent from the royal opinion. And the cure,--the being swathed for days in lard-and-sulphur--is almost as bad as the disease. Worst of all is the thought that for a week I shall not see Nucky.

_Sunday, a week later._

The boys and I were released from quarantine to-day, and I ran to the hospital the first thing. Nucky looks much better, and is gaining strength at a normal rate. He is much troubled, however, because Blant has not been to see him again. "I know things is wrong on Trigger,--I am afeared Todd is at his devilment again," he said.

I left after promising to spend the afternoon with him, and went with the other boys to church. Geordie and Hosea were late dressing, and were left to follow. What was my astonishment, when they did walk in, to see Geordie wearing Hosea's fine new overcoat he brought from home after Christmas,--a coat spun, dyed, woven and made by his mother. Hosea wore the shiny, too-large one which we had given Geordie from the barrels. During service Geordie, with hair plastered down and eyes on the ceiling, sang hymns more loudly than ever.

"Why do you wear Hosea's overcoat?" I demanded, as soon as we were out in the road.

"Him and me's swapped," he replied, carefully avoiding the word "traded"; "I never wanted to do it, did I, Hose?"

"Why was it done, then,--you seem to have decidedly the best of the bargain."

"You haint seed the boot he got," replied Geordie, calmly. "Show her that 'ere watch and chain, Hose."

Hosea drew from his pocket a battered nickel watch, which Geordie held toward me with the air of a connoisseur. "That 'ere's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch," he said; "I got it a-Christmas on Bald Eagle, off of Johnny Miles, that just come home from the Penitentiary."

"Did you pay him that much for it?"

"No'm,--he was offering it around for that,--I got it a little-grain cheaper."

"How much cheaper?"

"Well, I paid him forty cents spot-cash for it,--he was a-needing money."

"And you call that a fair trade,--your old worn coat and a forty-cent watch for his nice new coat his mother made?"

"It's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch, Miss Loring," Geordie repeated, patiently: "_And_, been in the Penitentiary!"

This failing to enhance its value in my eyes, he added, "And that haint all,--just cast your eye on that chain!"

The chain was a flimsy affair of two brass wires, on which were strung at intervals three battered objects which I at last recognized as dice. "Them 'ere," said Geordie impressively, "is able to make a living for a man all by theirselves. I seed Johnny Miles make a dollar'n' a quarter in five minutes, a-flingin' 'em. And when Hose heared about it, he said he were bound to have 'em. And thaint nary nother boy on Perilous I'd a-_let_ have 'em; but Hose he's such a _good_ boy, and so peaceable, and never does no meanness, and allus minds you, and knows his books, and gits up in time of a morning, I felt like I _ought_ to prosper him if I could. So I told him all right, to take them dice and buy him a hundred overcoats if he wanted!"

"How did you come to part with them if they are so valuable?"

"Oh, I got t'other set Johnny sold me," replied Geordie, comfortably, "I aim to quit trading now, like you want,--yes, I give you my hand I haint going to trade nary nother time! And I writ maw last night I seed my way clear now to come to Virginia this summer, and see her and the world, and ride on the railroad train!"

These rosy anticipations were cruelly shattered. "Give me those dice at once," I said, "You and Hosea may not know that throwing dice is gambling, and that gambling of any kind is strictly forbidden in this school. Trade back those overcoats at once. And never again let me hear of your associating with Johnny Miles!"

_Wednesday._

Terrible news indeed from Trigger. On my way to the garden after school this afternoon, I saw all the boys running toward the front fence, where a man on a nag was talking and gesticulating. I recognized Blant's neighbor Saxby, who had brought bad news before. When I reached the fence he began his tale all over again.

During the two weeks since Blant's last visit here, it appears that Todd Cheever has continued to haunt the Marrs premises at night, lurking in dark places, and making further attempts to shoot Blant. The strain of the constant watchfulness has been great for both Blant and Rich,--indeed, the feeling that one is being watched from the darkness by the eyes of hate is probably the most terrible one a human being can know.

Blant's nervousness has been augmented by the fact that for three days handrunning he has had visions which have filled him with fear for Rich. Monday while they were together "snaking" logs down the mountain side, he suddenly saw Rich standing beside him headless,--a second glance showed him Rich fastening a log-chain thirty feet distant. Tuesday morning he beheld the headless shade at his elbow, while Rich was on the far side of a fodder-stack from him; and about noon, the same dreadful apparition started up beside him as he lifted a skillet of meat from the fire, Rich being at the time on his way to catch a brief glimpse of his people at home. Blant was in an agony until Rich returned safely about four o'clock; then he told him of the warnings he had had, and implored him to be exceedingly wary and careful, Rich being quite amused at his earnestness.

After supper they were all gathered as usual about the fire, Blant holding the babe, when there was a halloo from the road. "Don't pay no attention to it," said Rich, "it's likely Todd, trying to tole you out." But the call sounded again, in an unmistakably strange voice, and, handing the babe to his father, Blant started for the door. Rich sprang ahead of him. "If anybody goes, it'll be me," he said. Blant forcibly put him back. "You don't set foot outside this house to-night," he declared, "not after the visions I have seed." Then, taking his forty-five from his pocket, he passed out of the door and into the open passageway.

"I want to inquire how much further on it is to Billy Marrs's," called the strange voice from the road.

"Something over a mile," replied Blant.

At the same instant, as Blant had probably anticipated, a man dashed into the passage from the rear, firing, closely followed by a second, also firing. Conjecturing at once that Todd had hired some stranger to call him out, in order that he and a confederate might attack him, Blant took instant deadly aim at both the men. The first--Todd--fell face forward into the light from the doorway; the second, with the cry, "It's me, Blant," also staggered forward a few steps, and Blant caught the dying Rich in his arms. Guessing Todd's whereabouts, Rich, disobeying commands, had jumped from the window to attack him from the rear, and had thoughtlessly exposed himself to Blant's deadly aim.

Saxby said that Blant, in an agony, had lifted his friend, dashed water over him, worked for hours to restore him, refused to admit that he could be dead; and finally, when compelled to abandon hope, had laid the revolver to his own temple and fired, his father knocking it up in time to produce only a scalp wound, and Saxby and others who had come in overpowering him and taking it from him before he could fire again. They stood guard over him the rest of the night, while he raved over Rich's body. "Never did I see the likes of the love of them two boys," said Saxby, with tears in his eyes. "And Blant in gineral so quiet,--nobody'd a-dreamed he could keer so deep."

Then, with the coming of daylight, Blant had called for his nag and had announced his determination to give himself up to the sheriff. "Since I haint permitted to kill myself, the law must kill me," he had declared, "for this misery is more than I can endure and live." In vain all tried to dissuade him; he was adamant. "So the whole passel of us come over with him," said Saxby. "Him and t'others stopped up here at the sheriff's, but I come ahead to fetch the news to the little Marrs chap."

"Never!" I said, "it might kill him, now. He must not know a word of it."

"I allowed it might holp him up some to hear Todd was safe dead," he apologized.

"He must hear nothing," I said.

Fifteen minutes later, a sad cavalcade came down the road. There were a dozen or more men, and last of all, between the sheriff and deputy, rode Blant, his face rigid with misery and horror. Pale, deathlike, unseeing, he rode. When I ran out in the road to give him a word of sympathy he looked straight through me, never seeing me. My boys and a gathering crowd followed in awed silence to the jail.

XXIII

DESPAIR, AND BUDDING ROMANCE

_Thursday Evening._

I went to the jail to see Blant this morning,--but was almost sorry that I did so. He sits there in his cell, speechless, despairing, refusing food or rest, hearing and seeing nothing. In vain the jail-keeper and I attempted to talk to him and tell him he must not reproach himself so bitterly, or give way to such utter despair, since he was in no way to blame for the death of his friend. He looked agonizingly beyond us, evidently not conscious that we were talking.

The worst of it is that circuit court will not sit here again until early April,--two and a half months, and his suffering must be cruelly protracted.

After this visit it was almost impossible for me to go in and talk and read cheerfully to Nucky, and make plausible excuses for Blant's non-appearance, which is worrying him a great deal.

"I had news from Trigger yesterday," I told him, "Todd has gone away, so there will probably be peace for a long while."

"Where has he gone to?" he asked.

"I am unable to say," I replied.

_Monday._

Blant continues to refuse all food, and to maintain his terrible silence. He sits with his head in his hands all day long, oblivious of everything around him. The kind-hearted keeper stays in his cell with him at night. "I know he haint in no fix to stand lonesomeness," he said to me to-day; "even if he don't pay no attention to me, I allow it's some comfort to him to have a human nigh." Then he added, "If he haint able to speak out his grief before long, it's liable to strike in and kill him. Something ought to be done to rouse him."

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't rightly know. But he's turnt loose all holts on life; something to grapple him to it again is needed."

Knowing their love for each other, my first thought of course was to bring Nucky; but the terrible story could have only disastrous effects upon him at present, so that is not to be considered.

_Thursday._

The mail-carrier stopped at the gate yesterday to say, "I hear tell that Blant haint toch a morsel of vittles sence he shot Rich. Neither has the babe, sence he left it, to speak of,--the pore little creetur just whimps and pines for him continual, and won't scacely tech the food its pap gives it. Minervy Saxby's been over trying to peaceify it,--but in vain. It was allus purely silly about Blant, allowing he's its maw. When a babe gits its mind sot thataway on a proposition, there haint no help for it but to give it what it craves. It's likely to pine away if you don't."

I did not tell Blant of this when I stopped by the jail this afternoon,--I hope it will not reach him, as it could only add to his misery. I was thankful when I arrived to find him out in the common room, where all the prisoners stay during the day, even though he sat in a corner and did not seem to see the others.