Chit-Chat; Nirvana; The Searchlight Part 4

"Yes, two."

"How old are they?"

"John is eleven; Henry is nine."

"John is a big, strong boy. I bet you are afraid of him. If you were not, it would be great fun to beat him up with your fists or kick him in the slats, or throw him in the creek and make him holler "'nuff." Why not save Elhannon for your dad when he gets out? He might not want you to do his fighting for him. Did he ask you to take a shot at old man Howard?"

"No, I ha'int thought about that."

"You didn't say you were not afraid of John Howard."

"No, I'm not. Why?"

"If you were not afraid of him, you would leave your gun at home and tomorrow beat him up at school."

"I believe I will go back home and beat him up at school tomorrow; but recess will be plenty long to wait."

"Oh, we better go on; he's older and bigger than you; you are afraid of him. You better tackle him with your gun."

"Waste powder and ball on that chump? Not me; I'm not afraid of any of them Howards. I'm hungry; supper's about ready; let's go home. I sh.o.r.e hope he comes to school tomorrow."

"Say, boy, are those your hogs? Why don't you feed them some corn?"

"They sh.o.r.e am poor. Them's old man Lewis'. He lives down the crick below here. This time last year he turned them out to eat the mast.

After the mast was gone he still let them run and would go out with a basket of corn and feed them. He's dumb, he can't holler. He called them by pounding with a rock on a dead snag. Since the woodp.e.c.k.e.r's came this spring them fool hawgs have nigh 'bout run themselves to death."

"Here, boy, take your gun; there's a squirrel."

"That's right; give her here."

"He's a nice fat one."

"Yes, there's plenty of nuts now."

"I don't believe I would reload her now; there's the house."

"Mr. Cornwall, I'll loan you my gun tomorrow and you can go hunting."

"You better let me have her all the time we are surveying the land."

"All right."

Cornwall was met at the gate by Mary and her mother; they both seemed pleased to see him. Caleb took his horse to the barn and, removing the saddle, turned him loose for a roll in the dusty lot. Then he was put in a box stall and given three sheaves of oats.

"Mrs. Saylor, you see I am back and have brought three others with me.

We will be here a week. I hope you will not find us too troublesome. The two chainmen will sleep in the loft on the hay, so as not to crowd you."

"We are glad to have you; come right in."

"Miss Mary, you must treat us like home folks; no extra work now or we will move down to old man Howard's. Your school and those big boys are enough of a worry."

"I have more time. They have another teacher at the school, Mrs. Field's sister. They removed me because of father's conviction."

"Who?"

"The county superintendent and the trustees."

"When we buy your father's land, why don't you go east to school?"

"I have been thinking of that. What school would you suggest?"

"Go to one of the best--Wellesley."

The next morning at sun-up the party started surveying the Saylor property. This they completed in two days; the boundary held three hundred and five acres.

Cornwall insisted on carrying Caleb's rifle; but the only squirrels they got were those killed by Henry Saylor. He was sixteen; a good axeman, and employed to blaze the lines and locate the corners.

Sat.u.r.day morning they started on the Brock boundary; but quit work about four o'clock in the afternoon and had a most refres.h.i.+ng swim in a deep pool of the creek before supper.

Sunday afternoon the family went down to the school house, "to meeting."

It was the first time Mary had been in the building or seen many of her acquaintances since the school had been taken from her.

When she walked in accompanied by Cornwall and Duffield, the surveyor, her face shone with happiness. Cornwall had dispelled the cloud of misfortune that had overshadowed it by the a.s.surance that her father would be given a new trial and acquitted. Since her active, ambitious mind was building glorious castles of hope on the prospects of refinement and education, she found much joy and comfort in the company of the young lawyer; more than she admitted even to herself; and the young surveyor and his a.s.sistants were a source of amus.e.m.e.nt and entertainment.

She was so occupied with and hedged about by the two "furreeners" that young Doctor Foley, who had come to church with the hope of taking her home in his new buggy, had but time to greet her and pa.s.s on.

Several of the girls, who had rejoiced at her humiliation were disappointed when they saw how happy she seemed, saying: "She's a cool one; she don't care if her pap is in jail, now that she is bent on catching that city lawyer."

The preacher, a circuit rider, who during each month tried to preach not less than once at more than a dozen small log churches and school houses, many miles apart, was a G.o.dly man who traveled over the hills on an old gray mare, carrying most of his earthly possessions in his saddle-bags. His hair was thin and his frame almost a shadow. His deep-set eyes and strong face had an expression of righteousness and peace. Years before he had loved a young woman, but knew that he could not continue preaching in his district and support a wife. One day he came to her home and in tears, holding her hands, made and told her his choice.

Since then, with quivering voice but calm face, he had married her to a friend, and baptized her two children and had buried her husband. He loved her still, but his earthly treasurers were as meager as when she had wedded another.

The crowd was too great for the little school house, so they came out and sat upon the green under two great twin oaks, while G.o.d's amba.s.sador, standing upon a rude bench nailed between the trunks, gave to them his message of simple words in the voice and tone of friend and neighbor.

Since early morning he had preached two sermons, christened a half dozen infants, baptized three confessors, visited a bed-ridden man and a feeble, old, blind woman, and given burial service to one of his congregation. Far in the night, when the day's work was done and he slept, his were dreams of peace. Two angels with forward pendant wings formed a mercy seat above his bed and on it sat One a thousand times brighter than the sun, who in a voice that might be heard through s.p.a.ce, though softer than the music of riffled waters, spoke to him.

"Well done, good and faithful servant, continue in the labor of the Lord."

"But, Lord, I am lonely and weak and homeless and would rest."

"Weary not in well-doing. My grace is sufficient for thee; My strength is made perfect in weakness--you have a home not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

On Tuesday the surveying party began work on the Helton property. This was so distant from Saylor's that they thought of moving headquarters to Asher Brock's at the head of the creek valley; but as a couple of days would complete the work they concluded to remain where they were, riding forth in the morning and back in the evening.

Mary fixed a lunch, which was placed in a grain sack and tied behind Cornwall's saddle. Near noon they stopped to rest and eat under some elms in the upper creek valley, when Cornwall discovered that the lunch was gone, the sack having been pulled off while he was riding through the dense underbrush.

Their appet.i.tes were whetted by the smell of frying ham, wind-wafted down the creek from Asher Brock's. They rode to the house and asked to share the meal. The maintainer is like the Arab; he never refuses to entertain a guest.