CHAPTER XIV.

RESENTING A BASE PROPOSAL.

The ground was now getting bare fast, and baseball began to be in order, and James must learn that. Peter brought a ball to school and James soon mastered the game in the simple method in which it was then played, and bore no more honorable appellation than that of “knock-up and catch.”

“How many things a boy has to learn,” said Bertie to Peter as they were going home from school after playing ball for the first time. “I didn’t think a boy had so many things to learn till we began to teach James.”

“Because we had to teach James right along, but we were years about it ourselves. We spread it all over.”

“There’s only one more thing I want James to do, then I shall be satisfied. Ned Conly says master is going to have a spelling school and invite scholars from the other districts, and I want to persuade James to spell, and if he’ll only spell more words than William Morse, Orcutt and Dave Riggs, I shall sit down contented and perfectly happy, and let things take their course.”

“You are a revengeful little viper, brother of mine, did you know it? You can’t forget the blow on the head Morse gave you.”

“It is not that. I wouldn’t have you think it is that, but I want James to beat those three boys who have done all they could to injure him, and out of pure malice because that seems what ought to take place.”

“Well, I shouldn’t wonder if he did, for they are three about as poor spellers of their age as there are in school.”

Mr. Whitman bought James a large blank book, and in it he set down his sums and printed with a pen headings beginning with capitals at the top of the pages, and took great pains with the writing and the forms of the figures. In addition to this he took some brass mountings from the stock of an old fowling-piece, put them in a vice and filed them all away, and sprinkled the filings over the headings of his pages before the ink was dry, having also put glue in the ink to make the brass dust adhere. On the last day of school the master passed this and the books of several other boys around among the school committee as examples of proficiency.

On the evening of examination day they had the spelling school, and James out-spelled Morse, Riggs and Orcutt. Peter was fully occupied during the spelling holding his hand over Bertie’s mouth to keep him from saying “good” at every success of his pupil and loud enough for everybody to hear.

Mr. Whitman and his wife, and even grandfather attended both the examination and the spelling school. To go out in the evening except to a religious meeting was something that the old gentleman of late years never had done.

The family went home rejoicing in the success of their endeavors, and experiencing that unalloyed happiness, the result of benefiting others; and the term which had opened so gloomily for James, closed in triumph.

Mr. Whitman lived some distance from the saw mill, and accordingly had a sawpit in the door-yard where he often sawed small quantities of stuff for wheels, harrows and other uses, and in the course of the fall and winter the old gentleman had, when he wished to saw anything, taken James to help him, and thus the latter had obtained considerable practice in working with that implement.

Mr. Whitman had in the winter, cut and hewn out some rock-maple logs, to saw into plank for mill-wheels, and cogs, which required to be sawed very accurately; he also had cut some red-oak for common uses, in respect to which he was not so particular; he therefore resolved to saw the red-oak first, and, if James proved equal to the work, to cut out the mill-stuff afterwards. The two had worked ten days with the whipsaw, when Mrs. Whitman said to her husband,—

“How do you get along, sawing your stuff with James?”

“We get along well. It has always been my way, since father has been so lame, when I had timber of any great amount to saw, to hire Mr. John Dunbar, give him nine shillings or two dollars sometimes a day, and board him; but I thought as James seemed to take to handling tools, and was a strong, tough boy, and I was going to have him for some years, I would try and teach him, and in two days more we shall cut all the stuff, and it will be done as well as though I had hired Dunbar, though it has taken much longer, and made harder work for myself, and after haying I mean to learn him to saw on top.”

“A good whip-sawyer, husband, always commands good wages, and it will be fitting James to get his living when he leaves you.”

“I intend to do more for him, and must, to carry out the idea I started with, which was to treat him, as far as fitting him to make his way in the world is concerned, as I do my own boys; not only teach him all I can about labor, but also give him some ideas about property, and the value of a dollar, for a man may work his fingers off to no purpose, if he don’t know how to take care of what he gets.

“I have got some clear boards in the workshop, and I think I shall let him make himself a chest of them, and give him a lock and hinges, and handles, and paint to paint it, and then he will have something, and some place that he can call his own.”

“But what is the use of talking to a person about saving who has nothing to save, and no way of getting anything; the principle can’t grow much without the practice, and he has nothing to practice with. It seems to me very much as if grandfather had sat in his arm-chair, and tried to teach James to fell trees by telling him how, and James contented himself with listening. What is the use of giving him a chest with a lock, when, as Bertie says, all in the world he has got to lock up is his mother’s Bible, and one sheet of paper, with the agreement you made with him, written on it?”

“Very well, let him put them in, and his school-books, and his Sunday clothes; then make him up some shirts, and knit him a good lot of stockings. There is something, not much to be sure, but enough to give the idea of ownership. There is something of his own that he can take with him, something quite different from the state of a workhouse boy.”

“But you gave Peter a pair of calves; he raised them, and sold them; Bertie has a pair of steers now, and Maria a pair of sheep. I think it has a good effect upon them, and I don’t see why it should not upon James.”

Jonathan Whitman, who was never in haste to decide, and very seldom announced his intention to do anything till his mind was fully made up, changed the subject of conversation, and there the matter rested for that time.

It was not late enough to work upon the ground, and Mr. Whitman gave the boards to James, and the old gentleman after he had cut and planed them, assisted him in laying out his dove-tails, and by a little instruction from him, James succeeded in making a handsome chest, and was evidently highly gratified, although he was so reticent and singularly constituted, that he never manifested either pleasure or gratitude, as do more impulsive persons. George Wood was at Mr. Whitman’s just as James was putting the last coat of paint on his chest, and James lifted the cover and let him look inside. The boy went home and told his folks about James’ chest.

“Ay,” said Mr. Wood, “Jonathan puts too much confidence in that redemptioner altogether, and now has given him a chest; no wonder the fellow is tickled with it, for he has got something to carry his clothes in when he gets ready to run off.”

An event now occurred that placed the character of James in a very strong light, and completely justified the good opinion Mr. Whitman had formed in regard to him.

They had just finished sowing wheat, and James, having worked very hard till after sundown, had put up the horses and sat down upon the ground to cool off and rest, with his back against the underpinning of the barn, which, as the ground fell off, was raised up several feet on the back side. Into the space thus left the hens were wont to crawl, lay, and sometimes hatch.

“Bertie,” said Mr. Whitman, “we don’t get near the eggs we should this time of year. I don’t believe but the hens lay under the barn; why won’t you look?”

Bertie took up a short plank in the barn floor, crawled under and crawled about; he drove one hen that was sitting from her nest; found several nests with eggs in them, and was searching for others, when he heard the sound of voices outside, and recognized that of James. Looking through a hole in the rocks he saw Daniel Blaisdell, Mr. Wood’s redemptioner, in earnest and even passionate dispute with James. Prompted by curiosity, he crept near enough to hear the conversation, the nature of which made him an eager listener.

Bertie inferred from what he heard, that they had been talking some time; that Blaisdell wanted to leave his employer by stealth, as he could obtain plenty of work at good wages, for the next six or eight months, whereas, at his present place, he should get only his board and clothes, and “very mean board and beggar’s rags at that,” and wanted James to go with him, which it seemed the former had bluntly refused to do, as in reply to some remark of James, that Bertie was not then near enough to hear, Blaisdell said,—

“If you are fool enough to work for nothing, when you can get high wages by going after them, I am not.”

“Do you think I have no more principle, or good feeling, than to leave a man who has treated me better than many of the people in England, I have worked for, treat their own children; and that, too, just when he wants me the most; who has put me in the way of learning to read, write, and cipher, which of itself, is worth more to me, than four years’ labor at the highest wages?”

“He had selfish ends in it, because he thought it would pay in the long run. It didn’t cost him much to send you to school in the winter, when there was not much to do; and he knew it would make you smart, and contented to work for nothing, four years.”

“You agreed, Mr. Blaisdell, before you left England, if Mr. Wood would pay your passage, to work on his farm three years; you have only worked about eight months, and you want to leave him, without his knowledge, and at the busiest time of year. Do you consider that right, Mr. Blaisdell?”

“Do I consider it right? To be sure I do. He knew what labor was worth over here; I didn’t. He knew, too, that I, and hundreds like me, were starving on the other side, and took advantage of our necessity to get his work done for nothing. He has tried to get ahead of me all he could, but he got hold of the wrong man. I don’t say but it would have been different had he fed me well, clothed me decently, and showed some consideration; but he has taken all the advantage he could of my necessity, and now I’ll take all I can of his. There’s no law in this country against begging, and no hanging for stealing. I’ll leave him, and you had better go with me. Come on.”

Bertie was so anxious to hear the answer James would make, that in his efforts to get nearer, he displaced a stone of the wall that fell outward, but the parties were too much occupied to notice it. The opening, however, permitted a glance at the features of James, and Bertie could perceive that he was both excited and irritated. At length he said,—

“I have nothing to complain of; but every thing to be thankful for. I shall stay with Mr. Whitman the four years, and do all that I can; and if after that, he should be taken sick, and become poor, and need my help, I’ll stay with him, and try to do by him, as he has done by me.”

“Then you must be a fool. They all said on board ship coming over, that you was a fool, and didn’t know enough to take care of yourself, and now I believe it. It cost Whitman about forty dollars to get you over here, and you are going to work four years for him for that. It wouldn’t be four coppers a day, while you can get a dollar a day now, and nine shillings in harvest. As for your board, he won’t miss that, nor your clothes, for they will all be made in the house.”

Bertie saw that James was growing more and more angry every moment, but he kept his temper down admirably, and merely said,—

“If I were under no obligation to Mr. Whitman, I have pledged my word to stay with him for four years. To break it would be a lie: I have never told a lie, and I never shall.”

“Don’t tell me that; a man must lie once in a while, especially a poor man. There ain’t a man in the world but has lied, and you are lying when you say that.”

Scarcely had the words left his lips than he received a blow that sent him headlong across the back of an ox, that lay chewing his cud near by. An ox always rises first behind, and the startled animal jumping up, flung Blaisdell on to his neck, and still more frightened, rising forward, flung him from his horns, to which he clung, to the dung-heap; and the terror of the ox communicating itself to the rest of the cattle in the yard, they began to snort and curvet around the prostrate intruder.

“Be off with you, or I’ll break every bone in your carcass. It is you, and the likes of you, who have given redemptioners a bad name, and taken the bread out of a great many honest people’s mouths on the other side, who might have found good homes in this country.”

Blaisdell was a burly fellow, and ugly enough, but he had seen somewhat of James’ strength on the passage over, and had received unmistakable evidence that he was no longer the discouraged being who could be abused with impunity.

Oblivious of eggs, sitting hens, and leaving his hat full of eggs behind him, Bertie rushed into the house, seized his father and mother, hurried them into the parlor, and shutting the door, told them every word he had heard, and all he had witnessed.

“Well,” said Mrs. Whitman, turning to her husband, “you have got to the bottom now; you have found out what is in your redemptioner, and also in neighbor Wood’s.”

“Now, my son,” said the father, “you must not mention this to Peter, Maria, your grandfather, nor any one, and by all means not to James. Will you remember what I say?”

“Yes, father, I will; for I never had a secret to keep before, except some boy’s nonsense.”

“Well, then, remember you are trusted, and don’t get Will Edibean to help you keep it.”

“But, husband, ought you not to tell neighbor Wood?”

“No; if the man means to run off, he’ll run. He can’t watch him all the time.”

“But he could lock him up nights.”

“He would break out, or set the house on fire.”

“But, perhaps if he knew, he would treat him better. You think he don’t treat him very kindly?”

“That wouldn’t keep him. He wants money every Saturday night to get liquor with. I am not going to be mixed up with it, nor have James mixed up with it. I’ll warrant you’ll not hear a lisp from him.”

The next morning, about ten o’clock, Mr. Wood came in, much excited, saying,—

“Good morning, Jonathan. I’ve found out what’s in my redemptioner. He’s run off, and stolen one of my horses, and the other horse is lame, and I want one of yours to go after him. I’m glad now I didn’t lay out any more on him.”

“You are welcome to the horse, and I’ll go with you, if you wish; but, he’s not worth his board. If I could get the horse, I would let the man go about his business.”

“I won’t. I’ll get a writ for him, and give him his choice, to go back to work, or go to jail. I want to punish him, and I want you to go with me.”

The second day of the quest they found the horse feeding beside the road, with the bridle under his feet, but could get no trace of the man.

It was near planting time. Mr. Whitman, the previous fall, had ploughed under a heavy crop of clover, and in the spring sowed the ground to wheat, with the exception of a quarter of an acre, that he had reserved to plant.

He then said to James,—

“I’ll give you the use of this land. You may take the team; haul all the dressing on it that is necessary, and plant it with potatoes; take care of them through the summer, dig them in the fall, sell them, and have the money; but you must pay me for the seed, or return me in the fall as many potatoes as you plant. When you come to hoe them, you can have the horse to plough amongst them. You must keep the ground clear of weeds; if you do not, I shall hoe the potatoes, and then you will lose the crop. You may plant them, and put on the dressing, in my time, but you must hoe them at odd chances that you will find plenty of before breakfast, while the horses are eating, at noon, and after supper, and father will instruct you about planting them.”

By the old gentleman’s direction he put on a large quantity of dressing, and then advised him, as the land was in such good heart, and abundantly dressed beside, to plant his potatoes in drills, as he would thus get more seed on the ground. When he began to plant, Maria insisted upon dropping the seed for him.

Peter and Bertie had each of them a corn patch of his own, and they hoed the three pieces in company. Sometimes James would be up at three o’clock in the morning, to hoe among his potatoes, or in Bertie or Peter’s corn patch, just which needed hoeing the most.

The boys had considerable time at their disposal, some before breakfast, some at noon while the horses were eating and resting, and also after supper, which they had at five o’clock, as not much work was done after that except in haying, or wheat harvest.

This was the time chosen by grandfather to instruct James in shooting with the rifle. James at first only manifested that fondness for a gun common to most young people, but he soon began to feel the hidden motion of that strange passion which throbs in the very marrow of the hunter, and became as enthusiastic as his preceptor, who before the summer was out, had taught him to shoot at flying game.

Mr. Whitman, while Walter Conly was boarding at his house, had engaged him to help him, from hoeing time till after wheat harvest, and to his great surprise, James, after a few days’ practice, did nearly as much as Conly; after the first two days he kept up with them both, hoed as many hills, and as well as they did. In mowing, he could not get along as fast, but cut his grass _well_, but after he had pitched hay three days, he could put more hay on the cart or the mow by one half, than Conly could, and do his best.

The most importance was attached to the wheat harvest. There were no reaping machines then; all was done with the sickle and cradle, and in reaping, James distanced the whole of them, for in that work he was at home.

Mr. Whitman and Conly were tying up some grain, beside a piece of potatoes, when the schoolmaster observed,—

“I never in my life saw so handsome a piece of potatoes as that.”

“Those are not my potatoes. I have none half as good as them.”

“Whose are they?”

“They belong to James. I told him he might have all he could raise on that piece of ground. He had my father for counsellor, both in respect to the quantity of dressing, and the method of planting, and by the looks, I think he could not have had a better one. In that respect James is different from any boy I ever saw; he has not a particle of conceit about him; is always willing to take advice, and generally asks it.”

“There is not much danger of your redemptioner’s leaving you, at least not till after the potatoes are dug, and they are never known to leave in the fall, as then they begin to think of winter quarters.”

“I took the boy, not to benefit myself, but to help him, and I am willing he should go when he can do better; but I know very well that he is better with me than he can be away from me, and therefore I try to make him contented and happy. I gave him the use of this land because I have noticed that since he has obtained some notion of time, knows how many days there are in a month, and how many months in a year, that he will sometimes say: ‘A year is a good while,’ and perhaps when he remembers that he has agreed to stay here four years, it seems to him like being bound for a life-time. But now when he has a crop in the ground to take up his attention all summer, the proceeds in the fall, to put in his chest, and look at in the winter, and another crop to look forward to in the spring, it will shorten time up wonderfully. He’ll forget all about being a redemptioner; won’t feel that he is working just to pay up old scores, and he’ll be more contented. I know I should; besides it will teach him to lay up, and put life right into him.”

“I think it has put life into him, for he works just as though he was working on a wager all the time.”