CHAPTER III

THE RAILSPLITTER

It was two months after the flat boat stuck on the dam at New Salem and the day following a quiet election in the village, that Nance Cameron ran over to Rutledge Inn with news of great importance for Ann.

"Long Shanks has arrived," she announced without ceremony.

"Long Shanks?" Ann questioned. "Who is Long Shanks?"

"The giant scarecrow, the big baboon," Nance answered.

"Baboon," Ann repeated. "Nance what are you talking about?"

"My land, Ann Rutledge, have you forgotten the unhinged giant you waved plum blossoms at--the captain of the flat boat who looked like sin, but knew how to use his hat like a gentleman?"

"Oh!" answered Ann. "Has _he_ come?"

"Yes. He got here yesterday. They didn't have anybody to help at election. Mentor Graham asked him if he could write. He said he could make his rabbit's foot, and so he helped. Mr. Graham says he can write well. Besides, he told them stories, and they liked that. Last night he came to our house."

"Tell me about him. What does he look like close to?"

"He's the homeliest man God ever put breath into. His legs run down into feet so long he can't find anything big enough to stick them under, and his arms are nearly as long as his legs. He has a big head, big nose, big mouth, big ears, lots of black hair, and he's hard and horny and knotty like a tree--and as green, too."

"Did he talk to you?"

"No, he didn't pay me any heed at all, but he and Ma got to be good friends before he'd been in the house an hour. She was tired half to death putting up berries and trying to get supper. She put Johnnie watching the baby and he let him roll down the steps. The new man heard him crying and went right out and got him. In five minutes the baby was laughing. This made Ma feel better and she got talking, and first thing I knew he was helping her wash dishes and telling her about what he saw in New Orleans and down the Mississippi. He talks better than he looks."

"How does he talk? Has he a big, deep voice and mellow, like the sound of the horn over the tree and river?"

"No, indeed. He sets out thin sounding, but his voice seems to work down into his chest as he talks and he sounds pretty good. After supper Pa brought in the cider. Mr. Graham came over and Dr. Allen, and they got Long Shanks talking and didn't want him to quit. Mentor Graham took a great liking to him. He lived in Kentucky once and then Indiana. He asked about the folks in these parts and when he heard Jo Kelsy owns a Shakespeare he said he was going to try to borrow it, said he's read the Bible till he knew it by heart and the Constitution and some other things but never seen a Shakespeare. When Mr. Graham told him he had fifty books his dull, gray eyes turned bright as new candles. He's terrible interested in books, but he don't have any time for girls."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause. Ma asked him if he saw the girl waving at him, when the boat stuck? He said, 'Yes'm--wasn't it kind of her?'"

"Ma said, 'She's the prettiest girl in town.'"

"He said, 'Yes'm--isn't that nice?'"

"Ma said, 'She's the smartest girl in town.'"

"He said, 'Yes'm--it's worth while to be smart!'"

"Ma told him you was going to marry John McNeil. He said, 'They all do it.' And he never even asked your name."

"I tell you what; you drop past to-morrow afternoon before supper. He'll be there then. He won't look at you, he's so funny. But you can see him."

It was with as much interest as a person goes to a show that Ann Rutledge went to the Cameron home the next afternoon. She was doomed to disappointment.

"He's gone," Nance informed her.

"Where?"

"Gone out to split rails for some folks that have come in from Indiana and are taking a homestead near Turtle Ford. He's going to split enough rails to fence the clearing. He's to get one yard of brown jeans dyed with white walnut bark for every four hundred rails. It's to make some new breeches."

"That's an awful lot of work for a pair of pants."

"Yes, but look at the length of his legs. A fellow with legs like that will always have to work extra to keep them covered."

"I wanted to see him."

"He's coming back. I heard him telling Pa he was going to open a store here for a man named Offutt. His wares haven't come yet. They will be here by the time the new breeches are ready. Then you can see him. You'll think him half-baboon and half-giraffe and he won't even notice you only to say 'Yes'm' and pull off his hat."

"Does he have any name? You didn't tell it."

"Name? O yes," and Nance laughed. "He's named after Abraham, of the Abraham, Isaac and Jacob family. The rest of his name is Lincoln."

"Abraham Lincoln," Ann repeated. "I don't think that's such a bad sounding name."

* * * * *

John McNeil called at the Rutledge home the night young Lincoln went to Turtle Ford to earn his new pants. After the family had gone to bed and Ann was left to say good-night to the young man she was engaged to, he said, "Ann, I thought that fellow was captain of the boat and maybe owned some of the cargo. He's nothing but a railsplitter."

"He didn't use his hat like a railsplitter."

"He's picked up a few lessons in manners somewhere--maybe saw somebody doing it in New Orleans."

"No--because it was on his way down that he lifted his hat."

"Well, I don't know where he got it, but he's only a railsplitter just the same. Hasn't a cent in the world. Didn't know it was a railsplitter waving to you, did you?"

"It wasn't me he waved at. He never heard of me and don't know yet that I am living. It was the flowers he liked and I'm glad he likes flowers if he is a railsplitter."

"I'd like to know, Ann, why you take on so over flowers. What are they good for?"

"Good for? What a funny question. What is the song of birds good for and the fragrance of flowers and the beauty of ferns? What is the music of running brooks good for and the splendor of gold and red sunsets--what are any of them good for?"

"That's just what I'm asking," John McNeil said seriously. "What _are_ they good for? Can't eat them, can you? Can't wear them, can you? Can't sell them, can you? or trade them or swap them for anything? Women are such funny folks and don't know a thing about values. But I'm going to leave the plum thicket another year and the corner in the pasture where the blue flowers grow you like to pick."

"Thank you, John--thank you a whole lot"; and happy because of his promise, Ann kissed John McNeil good-night.