Mothering on Perilous Part 2

To-night after study-hour there was another catechism by Geordie. "Tell about ridin' on the railroad train!" he ordered.

Killis began: "The month before paw got kilt last spring, the officers was a-watching him so clost he was afeared to sell any liquor round about home, so me and him we tuck a barrel acrost the mountains to Virginia, where there's mines, and it would fetch a good price. We loaded fodder on top. The going was awful sorry, and the steers was three days at it. When I got there, I seed men walking round with their hats afire, and went down to the railroad-train and rid on the engine."

"What did it look like?" demanded Philip, breathlessly.

"Sort of like a saw-mill sot up on wheels."

"I'd sooner die as not to see one!" sighed Philip.

"I aim to see one when I'm a perfessor," remarked Taulbee.

"I bet I see a hundred when I go to be a soldier," said Nucky.

"I'd ruther see a railroad-train as to eat!" declared Geordie, and this appeared to be the prevailing sentiment, except with Keats, who said dismally that he didn't crave to see anything that would take him fifty mile' from Nervesty and home. After reflection, Hen agreed with him.

"Listen at them two homesicks!" remarked Philip, cuttingly.

Geordie folded his fat hands. "Now you might tell about your paw gettin'

kilt," he said.

Killis said that the officers had been spying around on his "paw" a long time for "stilling" liquor, but that he was too smart for them, and moved the still about, and made liquor by night, and also frightened them by sending word to the marshal he would never be taken alive. That one night they had just "drug" the still up to a new place in the hollow, and he and his father and uncles were sitting around the fire, when there was a yell, and the marshal and a deputy burst in, shooting as they came. That his uncles returned the fire, but before his father could do so, he fell, with a dreadful wound through the stomach. That he himself, when he saw his father fall, s.n.a.t.c.hed a hunting-knife and cut the marshal in the forearm with it as he was running out.

The last item he told without bragging, and quite as a matter of course.

The other boys gave him looks of approval and envy, all save Nucky. "By Heck, I wouldn't have stopped with his arm," he declared.

"I haint," replied Killis, quietly.

Evidently I have two heroes on my hands!

_Sat.u.r.day Night._

Moses and Zachariah, two more runaways, were returned this morning, and this afternoon arrived my twelfth boy,--the last, since they cannot sleep more than three in a bed! Jason is a beautiful child of seven, very funny in his little long trousers. I wanted him at sight, but hesitated on account of his youth. When I heard from his father, however, that he had no mother now, I took him at once. Before leaving, Mr. Wyatt said that Jason was right pyeert about learning, and, he added candidly, about meanness too, and he hoped I would not spar' the rod.

The rod indeed,--I threw a protecting arm around the angelic-looking child at the word.

Indeed, not a few of the parents have warned me against wild and warlike tendencies in their offspring,--Mr. Marrs, for instance, said that Nucky was a master scholar when he could leave off fighting long enough to study his books, and others have admonished me to hold a tight rein.

Their warnings are needless,--everything so far has gone with surprising smoothness, confirming my theory that in an atmosphere of love and gentleness the martial traits will be atrophied.

To-day things were more tumultuous, Sat.u.r.day being combined wash-and-cleaning-day at the school, and a hard time for all hands. Ten of the girls came over from the big house to our back yard, and there, a.s.sisted by one of my boys, who kept up fires under the big kettles and carried water from the well, did the was.h.i.+ng for the entire school; while in every building on the place cleaning, scrubbing and window-was.h.i.+ng were in full blast. I was sorry to have to punish little Hen to-night for calling it a "h.e.l.l of a day."

IV

WAR, NOT PEACE

_Monday Noon._

Yesterday morning I accompanied my boys to Sunday-school in the village.

They showed a good deal of restlessness before the service was over,--not surprising considering that only two had ever heard of a Sunday-school before.

After dinner I undertook to cheer and entertain them by reading Robinson Crusoe, out in our yard, beginning in the thick of the story, where the hero is in sight of his island. What was my chagrin to see one pair after another of bright, roving eyes dull and close, one head after another roll over in the gra.s.s, Nucky Marrs holding out longest, and murmuring wearily, as his head settled back against a tree, "Didn't he never get into no fights, or kill n.o.body?"

Discouraged, I sat for a long while gazing upon the twelve sleepers, and wondering what if anything would be the proper literary milk for my babes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I sat wondering what if anything would be the proper literary milk for my babes."]

When the boys at last awoke from their naps, I gave them permission to play mumble-peg very, very quietly--the heads had told me to keep them quiet on Sundays--and they made a desperate effort to do so. But probably behavior so far had been impossibly good, and this was the last straw. At any rate, when we were gathered in the sitting-room after supper for ten minutes of Sunday-school lesson, the storm broke. Nucky kicked Killis on the s.h.i.+n; Killis called him a smotch-eyed polecat; the two grappled; Philip flew to Nucky's a.s.sistance, Joab to Killis's; Keats, Hen and Moses rushed in on the Marrs side, Taulbee, Zachariah and Iry on the Blair, little Jason flew joyously into the fray, impartially attacking both sides, and Geordie prudently retired under the table.

It all happened in a flash,--before I could catch my breath the table was overturned, chairs were flying, bedlam had broken loose. In vain I commanded, implored, threatened,--I might as well have spoken to the raging sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The table was overturned, chairs were flying, bedlam had broken loose."]

Dreadful moments followed, during which I could only dodge chairs and wring my hands wildly. Worse was to come, however,--when I saw Killis grab the shovel, Nucky the poker, and Keats the tongs, while Philip wrested off a table-leg, and Taulbee and others either smashed chairs to pieces for weapons, or seized remaining table-legs, then indeed I felt that death was imminent for all concerned, and, running to the door, shrieked for Howard and the big boys over the workshop. Returning, I plucked the broom from Iry, and rushed with it, straw end foremost, into the thick of the fight. I was lammed on the head by a shovel, on the shoulder by a table-leg, on the elbow by something,--it is not safe to say what might have been the outcome had not Howard opportunely arrived, s.n.a.t.c.hed the broom from me, and, with the handle-end, beaten and whacked the boys mercilessly until they finally surrendered their weapons and retired, b.l.o.o.d.y but happy, from the "battle."

I lay long awake last night, not from fleas, but nursing bruises and reconstructing theories. I see now that love and gentleness need to be backed up by good muscle, and that to be a success in my undertaking here I require, not the small body I actually possess, but the physique of an Amazon. Of course it is all a mistake, and I must give it up, even sooner than I had antic.i.p.ated. But I am sorry,--the boys are most attractive, and time spent with them pa.s.ses with lightning swiftness,--incredible as it seems, for seven whole days I have not had a chance to think of myself, my grief, my loneliness. Undoubtedly this is the Lethe I need,--but if its waves buffet me to bits, what then?

_Later._

Inspiration came when I visited the loom-house this morning, and saw Cleo Royce, the head-weaving-girl, at her work. She is so large and handsome and strong,--a young Juno, with glorious muscle. The heads are to let her come to the cottage and occupy a cot in my room,--I am determined to stay out my month.

_Wednesday._

For two days I have taken away their scanty playtime from the boys in punishment of their fighting Sunday night. Yesterday I talked to them very solemnly on the subject. "Why, it's just an accident you didn't kill one another or me," I said, "and then how should you have felt?"

"I'd hate right smart to kill a woman," replied Nucky Marrs; "but gee, I wouldn't mind laying out a few boys. I got to begin somewheres,--a man haint n.o.body till he's kilt off a few!"

To-night when I announced that regular twice-a-week baths must begin at once, and that four of the boys must get ready to wash themselves, a shout of delight went up, "Whoopee! We git to go in the creek,--git to go in Perilous!"--and every boy demanded to be one of the lucky four.

When I explained that I did not mean go in the creek, but that they must heat water in the kettles in the yard, and carry it to the tubs in the wash-house, and bathe there, howls of indignation succeeded. "We haint no women!", "I'll go home first!", "Dad burn if I'll do it!", "Creeks is for men!", and Philip remarked scathingly, "n.o.body but quare women would wash in a house when there's a creek handy!" It was only by Cleo's splendid strength that four were finally corralled in the wash-house.

_Friday._

This has been an anxious week. The ice once broken by the fight Sunday night, every boy has felt free to be himself again. Nucky has fought every boy of his size and larger at the cottage, and, I hear, most of the hundred day-school boys; Killis, though not so aggressive, is quite as warlike; and the others, with the sole exception of Geordie, are not much behind. It is almost impossible for me to get garden-work done, so much of my time must be spent breaking up fights.

Even at meals (fortunately the boys and I have a table to ourselves in the dining-room at the big house) behavior is far from being what it should. Tuesday at breakfast, when Geordie undertook to instruct the new boys in table manners, and informed Killis it was not proper to eat with his knife, he was silenced by a jab of the knife in his direction and a threat to cut out his liver; at dinner Wednesday, when Philip s.n.a.t.c.hed a corn-dodger from Keats's plate, he received a spoonful of "sop" (gravy) full in the face; yesterday when Taulbee made disparaging remarks about Trigger Branch, Nucky plunged the p.r.o.ngs of a steel fork so deeply into his scalp that he had to receive attention from the trained nurse. It is difficult to eat with one's mind so distracted; but distraction is far better than desolation.

V

GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED