A Knight of the Cumberland
Page 3
III. THE AURICULAR TALENT OF THE HON. SAMUEL BUDD
Behind us came the Hon. Samuel Budd. Just when the sun was slitting theeast with a long streak of fire, the Hon. Samuel was, with the jocundday, standing tiptoe in his stirrups on the misty mountain top andpeering into the ravine down which we had slid the night before, and hegrumbled no little when he saw that he, too, must get off his horseand slide down. The Hon. Samuel was ambitious, Southern, and a lawyer.Without saying, it goes that he was also a politician. He was not anative of the mountains, but he had cast his fortunes in the highlands,and he was taking the first step that he hoped would, before manyyears, land him in the National Capitol. He really knew little about themountaineers, even now, and he had never been among his constituents onDevil's Fork, where he was bound now. The campaign had so far been fullof humor and full of trials--not the least of which sprang from the factthat it was sorghum time. Everybody through the mountains was makingsorghum, and every mountain child was eating molasses.
Now, as the world knows, the straightest way to the heart of the honestvoter is through the women of the land, and the straightest way to theheart of the women is through the children of the land; and one methodof winning both, with rural politicians, is to kiss the babies wide andfar. So as each infant, at sorghum time, has a circle of green-brownstickiness about his chubby lips, and as the Hon. Sam was averse to"long sweetenin'" even in his coffee, this particular political devicejust now was no small trial to the Hon. Samuel Budd. But in the languageof one of his firmest supporters Uncle Tommie Hendricks:
"The Hon. Sam done his duty, and he done it damn well."
The issue at stake was the site of the new Court-House--two localitiesclaiming the right undisputed, because they were the only two placesin the county where there was enough level land for the Court-Houseto stand on. Let no man think this a trivial issue. There had been asimilar one over on the Virginia side once, and the opposing factionsagreed to decide the question by the ancient wager of battle, fist andskull--two hundred men on each side--and the women of the county withdifficulty prevented the fight. Just now, Mr. Budd was on his way to"The Pocket"--the voting place of one faction--where he had never been,where the hostility against him was most bitter, and, that day, he knewhe was "up against" Waterloo, the crossing of the Rubicon, holding thepass at Thermopylae, or any other historical crisis in the history ofman. I was saddling the mules when the cackling of geese in the creekannounced the coming of the Hon. Samuel Budd, coming with his chin onhis breast-deep in thought. Still his eyes beamed cheerily, he liftedhis slouched hat gallantly to the Blight and the little sister, and hewould wait for us to jog along with him. I told him of our troubles,meanwhile. The Wild Dog had restored our mules and the Hon. Sam beamed:
"He's a wonder--where is he?"
"He never waited--even for thanks."
Again the Hon. Sam beamed:
"Ah! just like him. He's gone ahead to help me."
"Well, how did he happen to be here?" I asked.
"He's everywhere," said the Hon. Sam.
"How did he know the mules were ours?"
"Easy. That boy knows everything."
"Well, why did he bring them back and then leave so mysteriously?"
The Hon. Sam silently pointed a finger at the laughing Blight ahead, andI looked incredulous.
"Just the same, that's another reason I told you to warn Marston. He'salready got it in his head that Marston is his rival."
"Pshaw!" I said--for it was too ridiculous.
"All right," said the Hon. Sam placidly.
"Then why doesn't he want to see her?" "How do you know he ain'twatchin' her now, for all we know? Mark me," he added, "you won't seehim at the speakin', but I'll bet fruit cake agin gingerbread he'll besomewhere around."
So we went on, the two girls leading the way and the Hon. Sam nowtelling his political troubles to me. Half a mile down the road, asolitary horseman stood waiting, and Mr. Budd gave a low whistle.
"One o' my rivals," he said, from the corner of his mouth.
"Mornin'," said the horseman; "lemme see you a minute."
He made a movement to draw aside, but the Hon. Samuel made acounter-gesture of dissent.
"This gentleman is a friend of mine," he said firmly, but with greatcourtesy, "and he can hear what you have to say to me."
The mountaineer rubbed one huge hand over his stubbly chin, threw one ofhis long legs over the pommel of his saddle, and dangled a heavy cowhideshoe to and fro.
"Would you mind tellin' me whut pay a member of the House of Legislatur'gits a day?"
The Hon. Sam looked surprised.
"I think about two dollars and a half."
"An' his meals?"
"No!" laughed Mr. Budd.
"Well, look-ee here, stranger. I'm a pore man an' I've got a mortgageon my farm. That money don't mean nothin' to you--but if you'll draw outnow an' I win, I'll tell ye whut I'll do." He paused as though to makesure that the sacrifice was possible. "I'll just give ye half of thattwo dollars and a half a day, as shore as you're a-settin' on that hoss,and you won't hav' to hit a durn lick to earn it."
I had not the heart to smile--nor did the Hon. Samuel--so artless andsimple was the man and so pathetic his appeal.
"You see--you'll divide my vote, an' ef we both run, ole Josh Barton'llgit it shore. Ef you git out o' the way, I can lick him easy."
Mr. Budd's answer was kind, instructive, and uplifted.
"My friend," said he, "I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly accede to yourrequest for the following reasons: First, it would not be fair to myconstituents; secondly, it would hardly be seeming to barter the noblegift of the people to which we both aspire; thirdly, you might lose withme out of the way; and fourthly, I'm going to win whether you are in theway or not."
The horseman slowly collapsed while the Hon. Samuel was talking, andnow he threw the leg back, kicked for his stirrup twice, spat once, andturned his horse's head.
"I reckon you will, stranger," he said sadly, "with that gift o' gabo' yourn." He turned without another word or nod of good-by and startedback up the creek whence he had come.
"One gone," said the Hon. Samuel Budd grimly, "and I swear I'm rightsorry for him." And so was I.
An hour later we struck the river, and another hour upstream broughtus to where the contest of tongues was to come about. No sylvan dellin Arcady could have been lovelier than the spot. Above the road, a bigspring poured a clear little stream over shining pebbles into the river;above it the bushes hung thick with autumn leaves, and above them stoodyellow beeches like pillars of pale fire. On both sides of the road satand squatted the honest voters, sour-looking, disgruntled--a distinctlyhostile crowd. The Blight and my little sister drew great and curiousattention as they sat on a bowlder above the spring while I went withthe Hon. Samuel Budd under the guidance of Uncle Tommie Hendricks, whointroduced him right and left. The Hon. Samuel was cheery, but he wasplainly nervous. There were two lanky youths whose names, oddly enough,were Budd. As they gave him their huge paws in lifeless fashion, theHon. Samuel slapped one on the shoulder, with the true democracy of thepolitician, and said jocosely:
"Well, we Budds may not be what you call great people, but, thank God,none of us have ever been in the penitentiary," and he laughed loudly,thinking that he had scored a great and jolly point. The two young menlooked exceedingly grave and Uncle Tommie panic-stricken. He plucked theHon. Sam by the sleeve and led him aside:
"I reckon you made a leetle mistake thar. Them two fellers' daddy diedin the penitentiary last spring." The Hon. Sam whistled mournfully,but he looked game enough when his opponent rose to speak--Uncle JoshBarton, who had short, thick, upright hair, little sharp eyes, and arasping voice. Uncle Josh wasted no time:
"Feller-citizens," he shouted, "this man is a lawyer--he's a corporationlawyer"; the fearful name--pronounced "lie-yer"--rang through the crowdlike a trumpet, and like lightning the Hon. Sam was on his feet.
"The man who says that is a liar," he sai
d calmly, "and I demand yourauthority for the statement. If you won't give it--I shall hold youpersonally responsible, sir."
It was a strike home, and under the flashing eyes that staredunwaveringly, through the big goggles, Uncle Josh halted and stammeredand admitted that he might have been misinformed.
"Then I advise you to be more careful," cautioned the Hon. Samuelsharply.
"Feller-citizens," said Uncle Josh, "if he ain't a corporationlawyer--who is this man? Where did he come from? I have been born andraised among you. You all know me--do you know him? Whut's he a-doin'now? He's a fine-haired furriner, an' he's come down hyeh from thesettlemints to tell ye that you hain't got no man in yo' own deestrictthat's fittin' to represent ye in the legislatur'. Look at him--look athim! He's got FOUR eyes! Look at his hair--hit's PARTED IN THE MIDDLE!"There was a storm of laughter--Uncle Josh had made good--and if the Hon.Samuel could straightway have turned bald-headed and sightless, hewould have been a happy man. He looked sick with hopelessness, but UncleTommie Hendricks, his mentor, was vigorously whispering something inhis ear, and gradually his face cleared. Indeed, the Hon. Samuel wassmilingly confident when he rose.
Like his rival, he stood in the open road, and the sun beat down on hisparted yellow hair, so that the eyes of all could see, and the laughterwas still running round.
"Who is your Uncle Josh?" he asked with threatening mildness. "I knowI was not born here, but, my friends, I couldn't help that. And justas soon as I could get away from where I was born, I came here and,"he paused with lips parted and long finger outstretched,"and--I--came--because--I WANTED--to come--and NOT because I HAD TO."
Now it seems that Uncle Josh, too, was not a native and that he had lefthome early in life for his State's good and for his own. Uncle Tommiehad whispered this, and the Hon. Samuel raised himself high on both toeswhile the expectant crowd, on the verge of a roar, waited--as did UncleJoshua, with a sickly smile.
"Why did your Uncle Josh come among you? Because he was hoop-poled awayfrom home." Then came the roar--and the Hon. Samuel had to quell it withuplifted hand.
"And did your Uncle Joshua marry a mountain wife? No I He didn't thinkany of your mountain women were good enough for him, so he slips downinto the settlemints and STEALS one. And now, fellow-citizens, that isjust what I'm here for--I'm looking for a nice mountain girl, and I'mgoing to have her." Again the Hon. Samuel had to still the roar, andthen he went on quietly to show how they must lose the Court-House siteif they did not send him to the legislature, and how, while they mightnot get it if they did send him, it was their only hope to send onlyhim. The crowd had grown somewhat hostile again, and it was after onetelling period, when the Hon. Samuel stopped to mop his brow, that agigantic mountaineer rose in the rear of the crowd:
"Talk on, stranger; you're talking sense. I'll trust ye. You've got bigears!"
Now the Hon. Samuel possessed a primordial talent that is rather rare inthese physically degenerate days. He said nothing, but stood quietly inthe middle of the road. The eyes of the crowd on either side of the roadbegan to bulge, the lips of all opened with wonder, and a simultaneousburst of laughter rose around the Hon. Samuel Budd. A dozen men sprangto their feet and rushed up to him--looking at those remarkable ears, asthey gravely wagged to and fro. That settled things, and as we left,the Hon. Sam was having things his own way, and on the edge of the crowdUncle Tommie Hendricks was shaking his head:
"I tell ye, boys, he ain't no jackass even if he can flop his ears."
At the river we started upstream, and some impulse made me turn in mysaddle and look back. All the time I had had an eye open for the youngmountaineer whose interest in us seemed to be so keen. And now I saw,standing at the head of a gray horse, on the edge of the crowd, a tallfigure with his hands on his hips and looking after us. I couldn't besure, but it looked like the Wild Dog.