CHAPTER VI

"FIXIN FER THE ANGELS"

Offutt's new store under the management of Abe Lincoln came to be, almost immediately, the chief point of interest in the village.

Business was never so rushing that the genial, long-legged new-comer could not find time for a friendly greeting or a new story.

Jo Kelsy, famed as the best Shakespeare scholar New Salem boasted, soon discovered a kindred spirit in Abe Lincoln, and was delighted to find in him a pupil so hungry to get acquainted with Bill Shakespeare.

Mentor Graham, the Scotch schoolmaster, dropped into the store because he soon discovered that, although the youth who had assisted him on election day had had no opportunity of going to school, he was far more advanced in general knowledge than any pupil in his school, and the fact that Abe Lincoln wanted to study grammar with him, and after a while higher branches, pleased him.

Even Doctor Allen, the busiest and most conscientious Predestinarian in Sangamon County, cultivated the acquaintance of the Lincoln youth, and he soon discovered that the uncommon young fellow, who seemed to be everybody's friend, was not given to social drink, and this pleased Doctor Allen, who boldly preached that liquor was poison and stood for its total abstinence.

The Clary Grove Boys visited the store, and when several of them happened in at the same time, the laughter and boisterous talk could be heard the length of New Salem.

Ann Rutledge had not yet been at the new store. She had heard from it, however, through her brother Davy, two years younger than herself, and her half-grown sister, known as "Sis Rutledge," both having formed the acquaintance of Abe Lincoln and both having immediately become his staunch admirers.

Ole Bar was in the store one afternoon when Davy came in.

"Davy," Abe Lincoln said, "see here"; and putting three long fingers gently into his pocket he drew out a handful of tiny rabbits. "Their mother got killed. I put the poor little things in my pocket. Know anybody that will take care of them?"

Ole Bar opened his good eye and listened.

"Sure, Ann, she'll do it. Ann Rutledge takes care of blind cats, lame dogs, lousy calves, birds With broke wings, and all such things."

Abe Lincoln had placed the rabbits carefully in his hat and handed it to Davy.

"Want them back?" the boy questioned as he turned toward the door.

"No--but hurry back with my hat. I'm goin' out with Kelsy while he fishes, and read about a Jew who wanted a pound of flesh."

The expression on Ole Bar's small eye was one of concentrated disgust.

"Men's not what they used to be," he observed, chewing violently.

"I reckon not," Abe Lincoln observed.

"These times they wear whiskers on their upper lip, and breeches buttoned up the fore, but I don't see as it's give them any more wits."

Abe Lincoln did not answer this, but asked a question.

"Who sings about these diggin's? It's some woman who has a way of her own."

"All wimmin sings; wimmin birds sings, and wimmin bull frogs sings, and human wimmin sings. But whether they be scaled or feathered or diked out in calico and combs, their singin' is to git the men of their kind. Take the advice of Ole Bar, my long-legged son, Abry Linkhorn, and let all wimmin kind alone. Furthermore, don't try to start no love-makin' with Ann Rutledge and blame it onto rabbits. I've heard said Ann Rutledge can outsing a bird. If she can, it's for John McNeil. John McNeil, he's worth ten thousand dollars--so they say. Hain't this worth singin' for?"

"The one I'm talking about wasn't singin' for any man's money."

"How do you know?"

"It wasn't that kind of a song."

Ole Bar laughed. "Sonny," he said, "you're as green as you look. But why don't you go up to the meetin' what Windy Batts's started? All the singers will be there. Windy's trying to scare the devil out of his own den by his fierce preachin'. Last night he called the whole Clary Grove tribe by name and told them the devil was goin' to pepper them with burnin' fiery sulphur in chunks as big as Rutledge's Mill forever and aye unless they crawled up on the rock of ages. They'll be going to meetin' theirselves right soon, and if he don't know any better sense than readin' cusses at them out of the Holy Scriptures and pointin' the finger of scorn at them before the people, they'll learn him some."

It was this same evening Abe Lincoln decided to go to Clary Grove in search of Kelsy, from whom he wanted to borrow the Shakespeare. The Grove Boys were in council. An indignation meeting was being held. Kit Parsons had just been quoting Windy Batts, who had the night before consigned those Clary Grove sinners root and branch to burn forever, and it had been just about decided that he, and the horse he had purchased to start on an itinerary after his New Salem meeting, should be treated to a coat of tar and feathers.

"That deer-faced hypocrit tells how God sent his angels to git Daniel out of the lion's den, how he sent angels to git them three fool Jews out of the fiery furnace. He says them kind of angels guard the Hard Shells, saves them from their enemies and gits them out of tight places. We're needin' some angels in this section. Let's coax them down. Let's anoint this belly-aching coward with hot tar and feathers--both him and his horse, till we make him look like the buzzard he is. Then we'll set by and see how long it takes them angels to git the feathers picked off."

A laugh had followed this speech. It was about this time Abe Lincoln appeared.

"Howdy!" he said in his most friendly manner.

They returned his greeting, but it was evident he was not wanted. They, however, asked him for a suggestion as to how best to punish "a moon-eyed pole cat that hain't nothin' better to do than stir up a stink about hell fire and brimstone, and call out the names of them picked by the devil to supply the roasts."

"I wouldn't take it to heart about his fiery talk. He can't hurt God with his spittin' and sputterin', and so long as God's all right the rest of us needn't worry," Lincoln said, before answering the request asked. "As to punishin' a 'Moon--faced pole cat,' I'd plug him up in some tight corner, poke sin out of him--and he'd punish hisself gentlemen--punish hisself."

Abe Lincoln got the book and went away. After he had gone, the Clary boys put their heads together, and before they had separated for the night, the tar and feathers plan had been temporarily abandoned.