Old Ebenezer Part 26

"Nothing."

"Then why are you standing there?"

"I thought I heard something."

"In the house?" she asked, rising up with sudden alarm.

"No. Over in town, or rather over by the railroad track. I noticed some tramp-fires along there."

"Oh, well, don't worry. The watchman will look after them."

"Hush," he said, leaning from the window. "There it is again."

"I don't hear anything," she declared. "Why, it's only a negro singing."

"So it is," he said. "I thought it was someone yelling over in town.

Are you sure that it was a negro singing?"

"Oh, I don't know whether he is a negro or not, but it is someone singing. But what if it is someone yelling over in town? It's nothing unusual, I am sure. I have heard them yell at all times of the night.

I believe it is someone singing," he finally said, turning from the window.

CHAPTER XXI.

WITH OLD JASPER.

Early in the evening old Jasper Staggs received a visit from Zeb Sawyer, and inasmuch as the social exchanges between them had never been particularly marked, the old man was not a little surprised.

"Well, you see, it aint altogether on your account that I've come,"

said Sawyer with a weak laugh, seeing that in the old man's astonishment there lurked an unfavorable suspicion. "Mother--and you know she's getting along--took it into her head today that nothing would do her so much good as a visit from your wife and Miss Annie.

And she says she'd like mighty well to have you."

"Well," said old Jasper, "the women folks are out there in the dinin'

room a fussin' around, and I reckon they'll take the time to answer for themselves, jest as I am agoin' to answer for myself, when I say that I'm obleeged to you, but I can't come. I'm talkin' for myself, recollect," he added, with emphasis, nodding his head and running his fingers through his rim of gray beard. "Yes, sir; for myself, and for myself only."

"But I guess Aunt Tobithy and Miss Annie will go, won't they?"

"I have said my say, and it was for myself only, but if you want to know anything consarnin' the other members of this house, just step right out there where they are tinkerin' with the dishes, and ask them."

Sawyer went into the dining-room. There was a hush of the rattle of dishes and knives, and then Sawyer came back and said they were kind enough to go. "I am going to stay here with you," Sawyer remarked.

"All right," the old man replied.

"And I believe it will be a little more than all right when I tell you of something. The other day I was at an old house in the country, and an old fellow that lives there took me down into the cellar to show me a new patent churn that he was working on. Well, I didn't care anything about the churn, you know, not having much to do with cows, but I looked at the thing like I was interested, just to please him.

And while I was looking about I saw a small barrel, with dried moss on it, and I asked him about it, and he said it was a whisky barrel that was hid out all during the war. This made me open my eyes, I tell you; but as quiet as I could I asked him if there was any of the liquor left. He said he had about a gallon left, and I told him I'd give him twenty dollars for a quart of it, and I did, right then and there; and if I haven't got that bottle right with me now, you may crack my head like a hickory nut."

By this time old Jasper's jaw had fallen, and now he sat, leaning forward with his mouth wide open. "Zeby," he said, and his voice sounded as if he had been taken with a sudden hoa.r.s.eness. "I reckon I am about as fond of a joke and a prank as any man that ever crossed Goose Creek--and some great jokers came along there in the early days--but there was things too sacred for them to joke about. You know what I said, Zeby?"

"I know all about them old fellows," Zeb said, with a laugh. "I have heard my granddad talk about them. In fact, he was one of them, and I get it from him not to joke on some things. I've that bottle of liquor in my pocket this very minute."

The old man stepped to the door. "Tobithy; oh, Tobithy."

"Well," his wife answered from the dining-room.

"Zeb is powerful anxious for you to go over to his mother's, as the old lady is wanting to see you, but I don't see how you can get off."

Sawyer looked at him in surprise. The old man made him a sign to be quiet.

A dish clattered and his wife exclaimed: "You don't see how I can go.

Oh, no, but you see how I can stick here day after day, killing myself with work. I am going."

The old man grinned and sat down. "I was afraid she would back out,"

he said, "and I wanted to clinch the thing. Jest let me tell her that I am afraid she can't do a thing and then it would take a good deal more high water than we've had for a year or two to keep her from doing it."

His wife and Annie came into the room and he put on a sober air. "I don't think you can stay late, for it looks like rain," he said.

[Ill.u.s.tration: talking in the kitchen]

"I'm going to stay until I get ready to come back, and it can rain brick bats for all I care," she replied; and the old man, knowing that everything was fixed, leaned back with a long breath of contentment.

The women soon took their departure; the old man watched them until they pa.s.sed through a gate that opened out upon the sidewalk, then he looked at Sawyer and said:

"The bottle; I believe you 'lowed you had it with you."

"Right here," Sawyer replied, tapping a side pocket of his coat.

The old man flinched like a horse prodded in a tender place. "Don't do that again, you might break it," he said. "There ain't nothing easier to break than a bottle full of old liquor. Let me see," he added, with an air of deep meditation. "It has been about five months since I renewed my youth; it was the night Turner was elected Sheriff. And I want to tell you, Zeby, that to a man who has seen fun and recollects it, that's a good while. We'll jest wait a minute before we open the ceremonies. You can never tell when a woman's clean gone. The chances are that she may forget something and come bobbin' back at any minute.

And it might take me quite a while to explain. There are some things you can explain to a woman and some things you can't, and one of the things you can't, is why you ought to take liquor when she don't feel like takin' any herself. Well, I reckon their start was sure enough,"

he said, looking through the window. "Now, jest step out here in the dinin' room and make yourself at home, while I pump a pail of fresh water."

Old Jasper put a pitcher of water on the dining room table. Sawyer sat with his arms resting on the board, and with a flask held affectionately in his hands. Old Jasper cleared his throat, and drawing up a large rocking chair, sat down. He said, as he looked at the flask, that he had not felt well of late, and that whisky would do him good. Sawyer would make no apology for drinking such liquor. Good whisky was to him its own apology. Life at best was short, with many a worry, and he did not see how a so-called moral code should censure a man for throwing off his troubles once in a while. The old man needed no persuasion to lead him on. And in the dim light of a lamp, placed upon the corner of an old red side-board, they sat glowing with merriment. Sawyer drank sparingly, but Jasper declared that it took about three fingers at a time to do him any good, and into the declaration the action was dove-tailed. He told a long and rambling story, relating to a time when he had driven a stage coach; a tickling recollection touched him and he leaned back and laughed till the tears rolled down through the time-gullies in his face. Sawyer snapped his watch. The old man told him to let time take care of itself.

"That's what I'm doing," said Sawyer. "By the way, I've an idea that I'd like to go squirrel hunting. But I broke my gun the other day and sent it to the shop. Haven't got an old gun around, have you?"

"There's an old muzzle-loader in there behind the door, standing there ready to break the leg of a dog that comes over to howl in the garden."

"Can't shoot a pistol much, can you?"

"Ain't much of a hand with a pistol, Zeby."

"Haven't got one, have you?"

"Had one, but I believe Lyman took it up to his room. There's a good man, even if you have a cause not to like him; and when I got well acquainted with him I jest 'lowed that nothin' on the place was too good for him, so we brushed up the room right over the sittin' room, and there he sets late in the night and does his work, and sometimes, 'way late, I hear him walkin' up and down, arm in arm with an idea that he's tryin' to get better acquainted with, he says."

"Is he up there now?"