Fighting Byng Part 3

He did not speak grammatically as yet, but there were signs of improvement, and the effort in that direction was apparent.

"You know," he went on, delightedly, "there must have been something wrong with me. I wanted to find you the worst way, and I thought I looked around all right, when I went there--I mean to the revenue office in Was.h.i.+ngton. First a boy would ask me questions, then a man, then another man, and then about the time I thought I was going to get somewhere they would tell me there was no such person there. Do you suppose they thought I was a moons.h.i.+ner just finished a long term, and was gunnin' for the man who put me in?" he concluded, with a dry little laugh.

I had to explain that for our safety in private life operatives were known to everyone but the chiefs by a number--and sometimes by another name. The office never divulges the real names, private addresses, or where we work. Here we were interrupted by the entrance of an old-time darkey.

"Yes, Ma.r.s.e Howard," said he cheerfully, in answer to the b.u.t.ton.

"Uncle George," began Howard Byng, with his soul s.h.i.+ning in his eyes, "a prodigal has returned. We ain't got any fatted calf to kill, but we have got food, and plenty of it. Bring us something so that we may eat and make merry,--and then prepare the guest cabin. Didn't I tell you when we finished it that we would have use for it soon?" All this in a fatherly manner toward the old servant.

"Now, Mr. Wood, I've got you in a corner. First I want to know how long you can stay with me. You show up just when I need you, and excuses don't go."

His cordiality was so real that I felt glad I had cleaned up my last matter for the "Excise" ahead of time and was not due to report to the new division for several weeks. Indeed it seemed good to be able to acquiesce for I could readily see that his isolation intensified an otherwise normal desire for companions.h.i.+p. And there did appear to be something on which he needed advice or a side light. He was as delighted as a young boy when I said if I could establish communication with Was.h.i.+ngton I might stay on for several days.

"Good--fine!" he exclaimed, and, slapping me on the back, arose to move a reading lamp and clear the center of the desk for the food.

"I finally got a long-distance wire in here and am open to the world now," said he happily. "Do you know you took a big chance leaving those jugs of moons.h.i.+ne in that open boat? If I hadn't seen and put 'em away you'd 'a' had none left and my works would have stopped.

n.i.g.g.e.rs, and white men, too, for that matter, do love moons.h.i.+ne. I've seen that boat pa.s.s here lots of times and wondered how long they'd run."

"All I was thinking about was getting those men off my hands," I replied. Then I related, briefly, how I happened to find their "look-out" while in a stupor, and of my sensations when I imagined I saw Howard himself inside the "still" house, and how, through luck, I had surprised and stunned them by using dynamite. He expressed great wonder at my escape and showed intense eagerness to hear every little detail of my experiences.

"Well, suh, you have performed the well-nigh impossible. And that is because you went at it just right. To men living in these swamps, where you never hear anything louder than a bull frog, a rifle shot is a terrific report, but when you let loose a real noise, blow in the whole side of their dug-out and let stumps roll in on them as you say, they couldn't help but give up. Those varmints have been here for a long time. They are bad men. You know moons.h.i.+ners ain't always bad when you know 'em. That old jail down there was built before the revolution, an' they've got friends that hate the law. These people along this river are two hundred years behind the times, just like--just like I was when you found me in the turpentine woods, an' I would have been there yit if it wasn't for you. You know that!" he exclaimed. "An' you were right when you thought I might be moons.h.i.+nin'. How I kept out of it I don't know for I hated the law, too, then. They argue that whiskey was made a long time, a hundred years or more, without tax, and ought to be free yit. And that feeling ag'in' the law is fierce, and these people are awful spiteful when they're ag'in' anything. You can hardly understand it unless--unless you've been one of 'em, like I have."

He was interrupted by the old black servant, who covered the desk with linen on which he placed platters of cold meat, wild honey and biscuits. Except for the slight vibration and hum of the big paper plant, I could easily have imagined myself lunching in the library of a Fifth Avenue home.

"Now," resumed Byng, after we had drawn up, "I used to like moons.h.i.+ne, but somehow I don't care for it any more. But this elderberry juice--woods stuff, too," said he, pulling a cork from a bottle, "is mighty fine. No kick in it especially, but just as good, and I want to tell you how near I came to being a moons.h.i.+ner myself right where you found your gang."

"I am eager to hear it, Howard," said I laughingly, "and I won't turn it in at headquarters, either."

"You know," said he, "when you left me there in Savannah, and your steamer got out of sight, I felt pretty bad. You taught me to read and write and gave me an idea about things outside. You were my friend.

You may not know exactly how a Georgia Cracker sticks to his friends.

Well, when I couldn't see you any more, I went over behind a pile of cotton bales, laid down and began to beller just like a kid, or a fool. Then it seemed to me that I wanted to die. The world had come to an end for me an' I didn't care a d.a.m.n if I died on the spot. Some men came along and said, 'See the Cracker with a cryin' jag.' Do you know what a 'bellering jag' is? Well, when there is a funeral down here there's usually plenty of moons.h.i.+ne. Some want to holler, some want to shoot, and most of the wimmen get on a 'bellering jag.' I thought of that. Then I began to wonder what I was blubberin' about anyhow.

Certain it wasn't for you. Then it came into my fool head that I was jest sorry and bellerin' for myself. Why should I be sorry for myself?

I had two good legs, two good arms, and two good eyes. So I got up and walked away. You told me what to do an' I was going to do it. Then I came back here--not exactly here, but back to the old camp we had just left. Finally I did find some land I could buy, not very much, but it had an old turpentine 'still' on it, right here on this spot we are now sitting. I built this building so my office would be where I had made my first experiment--just as you told me to."

"Evidently you prospered from the jump," said I, looking about the big, well-finished room.

"No, suh, at first I didn't get anything. I was tired and mad. I came near cussin' you for telling me to spend my money for nuthin'. The moons.h.i.+ners found I was all right, and offered to help me start, and several times I was just going to do it, but somehow I couldn't. You may not believe it, but when I was ready to go moons.h.i.+nin', you just stood in front of me. I could feel you touch my arm, and point to the old turpentine still. You made me go ahead, an', after I worked and worked, thought and thought, I found out how to work it. I struck it right. I discovered the secret of makin' turpentine and rosin from these here stumps, and paper from what's left--and you stood right here and laughed with me, and was as glad as I was. And n.o.body has yet found out how I do it, and they ain't going to. I'm twenty years ahead of 'em. Sneaks come here to find out but I spot 'em quick and kick 'em out. I'll tell you the secret because you made me do it. Now, suh, jest tell me what it was that kept me from making moons.h.i.+ne, and made me go ahead as I did. To-morrow, when it's light, I'll show it all to you. It ain't much, but I've made friends in Savannah and New York where I sell and buy my supplies. I have a nice little plant that's making money, and the moons.h.i.+ners have gone to prison. That's enough fur to-night. You had no sleep last night an' I'm going to put you to bed. Come on."

As we parted at my cabin door Howard Byng put his long arms about me and gave me a tight squeeze.

CHAPTER V

I won't try to account for Byng's impression that I, though far away, was flogging him along to achievement. Such influence is more common than might be supposed, so common, in fact, that the wonder is that it is not labeled and tagged by everyone, instead of remaining a part of the equipment of first-cla.s.s secret-service men, and accomplished scoundrels.

Criminologists understand it. It is the libertine's long suit. Power to obsess through concentrated thought. Now that is as substantial as railroad spikes and can nail its victims to the flooring of the bottomless pits, or carry them safely, chastely through a life well spent.

Aaron Burr was a most notable disciple of thought transference. He prepared his victim's mind at safe distance, so that the finish was a mere matter of his own convenience, and it is written he never failed.

Women of all cla.s.ses, well-meaning and virtuous, are unable to understand this phenomena, until too late, in many cases. Early training and intuition are the safe-guards. But good influences are more powerful and account for more wonderful occurrences. Power of a.n.a.lysis, derived from education and experience, enable men, and especially women, to overcome their impulses; to keep their minds open and cautious, thus enabling them to unconsciously s.h.i.+eld themselves against auto-suggestion from cunning rascals. I would not offer this if it did not have a great deal to do with the life of Howard Byng.

When I awakened next morning I could have imagined myself in a first-cla.s.s hotel. The room furnis.h.i.+ngs were of the best, with a generous bath and every convenience. But I had only to look out of the cabin window at the river and the great cut-over land beyond, with its blackened stumps grinning above the stunted growth, like numerous outpost sentinels of the infernal regions, to readjust myself to my exact location. I was surprised to see a small private yacht anch.o.r.ed, amid-stream, just off the mill.

What Byng called his guest cabin was a good-sized bungalow, on higher ground some distance below the plant along the river. It had the open hall of the Southern type and a veranda all around, every room being private, with entrance from either hall or veranda. While the old darkey prepared breakfast I looked out over the one-story concrete mill and the smoking plant below, still in full blast, running twenty-four hours a day, as all paper mills must. Farther back were comfortable cabins for the negro help.

Byng soon came up and was thoroughly elated. He took me by the arm and led me to the other side of the cabin and pointed out the yacht in the river. "I'm mighty glad he has come while you are here," he said.

"Somehow I feel safe now. That yacht belongs to a Mr. Purdue. Did you ever hear of the Purdues of New York?" he paused to inquire anxiously.

I thought I could recall a Purdue, once a prominent railroad man.

"That's him, that's what he wrote. He's got twenty thousand acres of stump land, mostly pine, a little gum and chestnut, joinin' mine on the north and up the river, and wants to sell out to me. It's a big deal and I want your advice. We've been d.i.c.kering by mail for some time and finally he promised to run down, but I never expected he would. His boat isn't very big, but she's deep and I don't see how he ever got up the river. Must have caught the ebb and had luck," he went on, still excited. "He seems to have his family, too. I saw two or three wimmen moving about," he added, as if that was an added responsibility, or an important event. Outside of negroes, women were seldom seen in that desolate country.

"You see," continued Byng, as we sat down to breakfast, "I've got to be careful. As near as I can figure, I am the only one who knows how to make enough out of my turpentine and rosin from pine stumps so that my paper product is all velvet. They know I do it and are trying their heads off to find out my method. But they never will. I'll tell you and that's all. Just as you said, years ago, the soil goes clear down and'll never stop raisin' cotton. I'm going to take you out to-day and show you the cla.s.s of cotton I'm raisin' where I pulled the stumps out. I've got a lot of stump land, that'll last a long time the way I'm going now, but I'd like to have enough to last all my life, and this old codger has got it joinin' me, and it ain't worth a d.a.m.n cent to anyone else. Now do you see why I'm a little excited?" he asked, with a broad, cordial smile, "and do you see the fight me and this feller is goin' to have if he really wants to get rid of payin'

non-resident taxes? Of course, he's a business man and sharp, much sharper than me. That's why I am so glad you're here to sort of watch over me in the deal, and see when I'm going wrong. What do you think I'd better do?"

"Well, I don't know; if you have written----"

"No, I ain't. I got bit once writin' letters. And once is enough for me," he interrupted sharply.

"Then the only way is to let things take a natural course. Let him raise the trade question. Invite them ash.o.r.e, for they have probably been cruising for some time and are tired of their cramped quarters in the small yacht. Let them occupy this bungalow all to themselves. You can find some other place for----"

"Find another place for you!" he interrupted, dropping his knife and fork. "h.e.l.l's Bells! Me find another place for you! Not if he had all of Southern Georgia to sell for a penny. You are in my best guest chamber and you're goin' to stay there, suh. You can stay on the rest of your life and have Uncle George do nuthin' but wait on you all the time. That's my orders," he added, with perfect sincerity, and with such grace as only a Southern man knows how to extend to a trusted friend. "Besides, unless he's got a big family, there's room to spare."

"Well, you get the idea. Be nice to him, but wait for him to talk trade. You know how much more chesty and louder a rooster crows when he is in his own barnyard and among his own hens?"

"Yes--yes, I've seen 'em at it, they're right laughable," he replied, quite able to see the application.

"Well, you are on your own ground, in your own plant, and while you needn't crow so loud, you can keep your chest away out."

"Do you think I have done so much? It has come so slow, mighty hard, so much plannin'. Machinery is hard to learn, but I got it down fine now--engines, dynamos, and all."

"Yes--you have astonished me, Howard; your all-around progress is amazing, and in another five years you will be the most prominent man in Southern Georgia."

"You can't ever know what it means to me to hear you say that, for"--he hesitated again to control himself--"for I would still be a Georgia Cracker if it wasn't for you," and unashamed he looked at me squarely with moistened eyes.

"An'--an'"--he halted again, contemplating as anyone might the one thing apparently unattainable. His lips quivered as he looked out past the plant and cabins to the growing cotton, the stump land and swamp which his genius had converted into a garden of usefulness and beauty.

Then, with even voice under control, he went on, "I ain't much more'n a Cracker yit. I talk Cracker an' I think Cracker, that's why I ain't no match for Purdue even when it comes to tradin'. I ain't got time to go to college. What can I do? There's no livin' being I'd take advice of that kind from 'cept you. My dad and mam, I suppose, did the best they could, but they didn't give me much but life and an appet.i.te for moons.h.i.+ne. We come from good English stock, but it's run down. I'm asking you what I can do for myself, 'cause I know you kin tell me, can't yer?"

"Howard," I began, delighted that he could see himself, and that he was ready and willing to struggle for better things. "Are you making money now?"

"Yes, I'm making money. Every roll of paper that drops off that machine is clear profit, worth around fifty dollars, and you know they come off pretty fast, but, shuckins!--ye soon find money don't git ye much. It's more fun to see the black stumps turn into white paper and the cotton grow where they c.u.m from!"

"You are better off now than most college graduates," I replied, "but you do need better English. It will help you to think better. Write to a northern college to send you a sort of tutor secretary, give him some work about the office, watch him, and learn to talk as he does.

Insist that he corrects you every time you make a mistake. Get the best dictionary, learn how to use it, and keep it handy all the time.

Also an encyclopedia, and an atlas. It strikes me that you are already long on arithmetic." He laughed at this thought.