Shawn Of Skarrow Part 4

"Yes, sir."

Burney scratched his head and crossed his legs. "Well, all I've got to say is, that there must a been a leak some'ers around a distillery when that feller got to writin'. I don't read much, but I read in the Bible once about an old feller by the name of Job, who comes up to a feller by the name of Amasa, and Job pertendin' to be his friend, took him by the whiskers, like he was going to kiss him, and Job said, 'How's your health, brother Amasa?' and before Amasa could answer, Job cut him in the fifth rib with a corn-knife or sunthin'. Maybe times have changed since them days, but it still pays to watch a man who comes up to you with his hand behind him, and there ain't no man goin' to take me by the whiskers when he says _howdy_--I've larn't that much from the Bible--but you stick to that Book, Shawn, even if some of the stories do make you set up and take notice, it's a good Book to live by and a better one to die by. Stick to it, Shawn--I'm goin' to bed."

Shawn went out and sat on the bow of the boat. The night was beautiful.

Along the sh.o.r.e the willows were rustling as the south wind kissed their foliage. The moon was coming over the hill, a full, round, voluptuous moon. The tiny reflections of the stars quivered in the depths of the stream. From the head of the bend came the long and deepened breathing of a coal boat. A bell clangs in the engine-room, the great wheel stops as welcoming rest, the bell clangs again and the boat swings on, standing for the channel. Afar up the river, Shawn saw a lurid light against the sky. The heightened colors came and went in flashes and spurts. That light could not come from the headlight of a steamer. Shawn went quietly to the door and called Burney. Burney came to the door of the boat, rubbing his eyes. "Must be a house burning, from the looks of it." They stood on the shanty-boat until the light began to diminish and then went to bed. Burney was unable to sleep. Presently he got up and turned up the wick of the lamp. Coaly went over and nestled by his feet. Suddenly Burney heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Coaly began to growl and moved nearer the door. Shawn was peering out of his bunk. Burney opened the door as two men came up the gang-plank. They were breathing hard and looked as though they had been running. One of them was untying the chain of the john-boat, and said, "We want your boat to get across the river; we're in a hurry."

"Let go of that chain," said Burney, as he raised a musket to his shoulder. "You can't have that boat, and I want you to get off of this boat at once."

The men drew back, they were desperate looking characters, but they heard the determined tone of Burney's voice and they stepped ash.o.r.e and made off down the beach. Burney turned to Shawn and said, "Somethin' is wrong; them fellers have done somethin'. What's that?" They could hear the deep baying of a hound. "My G.o.d, they's bloodhounds!"

There is something strangely weird in the sound of a bloodhound's voice coming across the night--something that seems to tell of death. The trail was fresh and the dogs were coming under full yelp.

"Put on your shoes and come out front, Shawn," said Burney. Eight or ten men came down through the willows, one man in front and holding the hounds by a leash. Each man was armed with a shotgun. The dogs came to the gang-plank, and stopped at the water, and lapped it with their long, yellow tongues.

"Whose boat is this, and who's here?" asked one of the men. Old John answered in a clear and unshaken voice, "I am John Burney, and this is my boat." One of the men came forward and extending his hand, said, "I know John Burney; there's nothing wrong with him, but Burney, can you throw any light on these tracks leading here?" Burney told them of the two men, of their wanting his boat to cross the river. "They went down the sh.o.r.e," said Burney, "about twenty minutes ago; your dogs oughtn't to have much trouble in locating the track, but tell me what's wrong?"

The man holding the dogs answered, "Casper Daniel's country store was robbed and burned just after he had gone to bed, and Daniels was either murdered or lost in the fire."

Shawn shuddered and crept back into the boat. The men put the dogs on the trail. Shawn heard them baying as they went down through the deep cottonwood grove. "No sleep for me to-night," said Burney. The voices of the hounds came in faint baying. Burney restlessly paced the sh.o.r.e until the first streaks of dawn. About five o'clock he heard the men coming back. They came down to the boat. Handcuffed together were the two criminals, their haggard faces bore the look of despair. They were sullen and silent, and as Shawn stood gazing at them, he could not repress a feeling of pity, although their hands were stained with human blood. They were taken up the road to the little town and placed in the jail. Shawn and Burney followed the men. Around the jail was a crowd of excited men and loud voices were heard on every side. Men were coming out of the saloon on the corner just beyond the jail. They stood around in groups and angry mutterings were heard. Suddenly there seemed to be a concerted move in front of the jail. A young lawyer sprang upon a box and pleaded with the crowd to let the law take its course.

"Law!" exclaimed a black-whiskered man, "we've never had any law that money couldn't buy!"

"Hang 'em! Hang 'em!" yelled the crowd. A rush was made for the jail.

The jailor was making a feeble pretense of protecting his prisoners. A heavy sledge crashed against the door, the jailor was knocked down and the keys taken from him.

"There they are! Bring 'em out!"

The poor wretches were dragged out, moaning piteously and begging for their lives. Shawn turned away, sick at heart, but something seemed to hold him to the spot.

"Don't kill us, men, for G.o.d's sake don't kill us!" pleaded one of the criminals but his voice was drowned in the uproar of the maddened crowd.

"That lower limb will do, boys, everybody pull!"

A cloud afar off in the sky seemed to float across the sun. They cut the two rigid bodies down at noon. Shawn and Burney returned to the boat. A rain-crow was calling softly from a willow tree, and the ripples murmured sorrowfully on the sh.o.r.e. Shawn touched Burney on the arm as they stood by the boat: "Mr. Burney, there's a Memphis packet due up here to-night. I don't like to leave you, but I'm goin' home--I've just got to go."

CHAPTER VII

It was after midnight when the boat upon which Shawn took pa.s.sage reached Skarrow. As they climbed the hill, Coaly instinctively turned toward Shawn's home, but Shawn had determined to first visit old Brad and make inquiry as to the kind of welcome he might expect from his mother. He knocked gently on the door of old Brad's cabin.

"Who dar?" called Brad.

"It's Shawn, uncle Brad; I've come home."

"Great Lawd!" exclaimed the old darkey, "Wait er minnit tell I strack a light--come in hyar, boy." Shawn went in as Brad threw a chunk of wood on the fire. "Set down thar, boy, and lemme put dis coffee-pot on de coals an' brile yo' a piece uv bacon. Lawse, chile! some say yo' done drown, an' some say yo' rin away wid race-boss men, en yo' mammy jes'

'stracted an' axin' me ef I heerd frum yo' ev'ry day. Is yo' seen yo'

mammy yet?"

"No," said Shawn, "I felt like--"

"Out wid it," said old Brad, "Dat's right, an' say dat yo' felt like yo'

wuz ershamed uv yo'self en had done wrong, but yo' go down thar jes' as soon ez yo' kin an' see yo' mammy. Yo' hain' no wicked boy, Shawn, but des kinder ramshackel an' loose-jinted in yo' const.i.tushun, but yo'

hain' wicked. I know what wickedness is, but even de wicked hez got de chance to tu'n frum de errer uv dey ways befo' hit is too late. De wickedes' man I ever knowed, honey, wuz Captain Monbridge, down in Louisiana. He wuz de wickedes' an' han'sumest man en de richest man in dat secshun, en when he got drunk an' got on his big black hoss, he would shoot de fust n.i.g.g.e.r whut crossed his path, en when he wuz drunk, de n.i.g.g.e.rs wuz mi'ty skase eround. He fell off'n his hoss one night an'

wuz kilt, en de folks all say dat he went straight ter h.e.l.l, but de naix spring after he wuz daid, a strange flower c.u.m peepin' outer his grave, en hit wuz de mos' curios flower dat wuz ever seen 'roun' dar--a kine uv red dat n.o.body ever see befo', en hit kep' a-comin' an' a-comin', en purty soon de people all c.u.m to see dat flower on Captain Monbridge's grave. Byme bye de flower grow to a big stalk, en down in de center uv de stalk wuz a leaf, en when dey tuck out dat leaf, dar wuz writ on hit dese words:

'Betwix de stirrup an' de groun'

He mercy axed an' mercy foun.'

"Ya.s.sir, he wuz saved." Uncle Brad took the coffee-pot from the glowing coals and poured a steaming cup of coffee for Shawn. "Shawn, I'm gwine tuh preach at de chutch Sunday mawnin' an' I want yo' to heah me. I'm gwine preach on de Prodegale Son, an' hit's gwine tuh be a sarmon."

"I'll be there," said Shawn.

Shawn and Coaly went down the hill. Coaly gave a yelp of delight and stood barking before the door. Shawn's mother sprang from bed, opened the door and clasped her son to her breast. "Oh, Shawn, bless G.o.d, you've come!" And Shawn's home had never looked so inviting before.

"Mammy, I'll never leave you again."

He went to sleep in his little room overlooking the river, and he heard again the night wind crooning through the trees and the night owl's tones echoing through the distant wood. His heart was warm again in the glow of sweet memories. He was in his old home.

The next day found Shawn enjoying the surprising event of being cordially welcomed by the inhabitants of the town. The worst sort of straggler is often astonished at the kindly interest accorded him upon returning to his old home. Old Doctor Hissong greeted him by saying, "h.e.l.lo, been seeing the world, have you?" When he went up to the Alden home, he found the same good friend there; the same sweet smile and the kind words, and Mrs. Alden still anxious to help him and guide him to better pathways, urging upon him the great need of an education, and Shawn promised to return to school.

"Don't fergit about dat sarmon," said old Brad, "I'm gwine tuh look fer yo' at de chutch termorrer."

CHAPTER VIII

DE PRODEGALE SON

Shawn found a seat on one of the benches reserved for the white people.

Uncle Brad was in the pulpit. He arose, in all of the dignity of the occasion. The little church was well filled with colored people. After a song and prayer, uncle Brad came forward and began reading, to all appearances, from the last half of the fifteenth chapter of Luke.

Closing the Bible, he began, "I have read fo' yo' heahin' de story uv de Prodegale Son. Dis hyar boy, han'sum an' smart, bergin to git tired uv de fawm--he heer'd de boys frum de city tellin' erbout de great doin's down dar, en de mo' he look eroun' de mo' de ole place los' hit's chawm, en fine'ly he goes to hi' daddy en says, says he, 'Pap, I dun git to de age when I waun' see sum uv de wurl, en' ef yo' gwine do ennything fo'

me, do hit now.' Yessir, he lit a seegar en blow de smoke thru hi' nose en say, 'Do hit now!'

"De boy dun fergit how his daddy fotch him up an' feed him an' clothe him, but dat doan' count wid chillun. Dey kine er reason hit dis way: 'Yo' 'sponsibul fo' my bein' heah, en yo' bleeged to teck keer uv me'.

De ole man kiner swole up, but he drawed his check on de bank--de Bible doan' say how much, but hit mus' ter been a pile, fer de Bible doan'

fool wid little things. De boy wen' 'roun' to tell 'em all good-bye, an'

his mammy jes' fell on his neck an' wep'. He wuz de black sheep, an' hit seem dat de mammies allus love dese black sheep de best. When he c.u.m to tell his brother good-bye, de brother kiner put hi' han' to hi' mouf en say, 'Doan' yo' write back to me when yo' git busted,' en de Prodegale Son he say, 'Pooh, pooh, yo' clod-hopper.'

"Dar wuz de ole folks sottin' on de poach as he wen' down de road. Dey could see him ergin crowin' in de craddle; dey could see him larnin'

how to teck his fust step, en back in de years, dey could heah de fust word he ever said--de fust one mos' uv us says, _mammy_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "De Prodegale Son."]

"He rech de city, en dere wuz frens waitin' him by de score, en dey say, 'Whut a fine genermun! Whut a spote! All wool en a yahd wide!' Ya.s.sir!

An he smile an' swole up an' say, 'Le's have sunthin!' Dey go inter de bar, en de barkeeper smile en say, 'Whut's yourn, gents?' Some say ole fashun toddy, some say gin, en' so on. De young man res' hi' foot on de railin' uv de bar, en look at hi'sel' in de gla.s.s, en he see de dimun rings on his fingers jes' glis'nin', an' when de licker gits to workin'