Wolfville Nights

by Alfred Henry Lewis

  CHAPTER XIV.

  The Troubles of Dan Boggs.

  "This yere," remarked the Old Cattleman, at the heel of a half-hourlecture on life and its philosophy, "this yere is a evenin' when theygets to discussin' about luck. It's doorin' the progress of thisdispoote when Cherokee Hall allows that luck don't alternate none,first good an' then bad, but travels in bunches like cattle or inflocks like birds. 'Whichever way she comes,' says Cherokee, 'good orbad, luck avalanches itse'f on a gent. That's straight!' goes onCherokee. 'You bet! I speaks from a voloominous experience an' a lifethat, whether up or down, white or black, ain't been nothin' but luck.Which nacherally, bein' a kyard sharp that a-way, I studies luck thesame as Peets yere studies drugs; an' my discov'ries teaches that luckis plumb gregar'ous. Like misery in that proverb, luck loves company;it shore despises to be lonesome.'

  "'Cherokee, I delights to hear you talk,' says Old Man Enright, as hesigns up Black Jack for the Valley Tan. 'Them eloocidations is meantto stiffen a gent's nerve an' do him good. Shore; no one needsencouragement nor has to train for a conflict with good luck; but it'swhen he's out ag'inst the iron an' the bad luck's swoopin' an' stoopin'at him, beak an' claw like forty hawks, that your remarks is doo tocome to his aid an' uplift his sperits some. An' as you says a momentback, thar's bound in the long run to be a equilibr'um. The lower yourbad luck, the taller your good luck when it strikes camp. It's thesame with the old Rockies, an' wherever you goes it's ever anever-failin' case of the deeper the valley, the higher the hill!

  "'As is frequent with me,' says Dan Boggs, after we sets quiet amoment, meanwhiles tastin' our nosepaint thoughtful--for theseoutbursts of Cherokee's an' Enright's calls for consid'rations,--'as isfrequent with me,' says Dan, 'I reckons I'll string my chips withCherokee. The more ready since throughout my own checkered c'reer--an'I've done most everything 'cept sing in the choir,--luck has everhappened bunched like he asserts. Which I gets notice of thesepecooliarities of fortune early. While I'm simply doin' nothin' toprovoke it, a gust of bad luck prounces on me an' thwarts me in a nobleambition, rooins my social standin' an busts two of my nigh ribs all inone week.

  "'I'm a colt at the time, an' jest about big enough to break. My folksis livin' in Missouri over back of the Sni-a-bar Hills. By nacher I'ma heap moosical; so I ups--givin' that genius for harmonyexpression--an' yoonites myse'f with the "Sni-a-bar Silver CornetBand." Old Hickey is leader, an' he puts me in to play the snare drum,the same bein' the second rung on the ladder of moosical fame, an' onerung above the big drum. Old Hickey su'gests that I start with thesnare drum an' work up. Gents, you-all should have heard me with thatinstrooment! I'd shore light into her like a storm of hail!

  "'For a spell the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band" used to play in thewoods. This yere Sni-a-bar commoonity is a mighty nervousneighbourhood, an' thar's folks whose word is above reproach who sendsus notice they'll shoot us up if we don't; so at first we practises inthe woods. But as time goes on we improves an' plays well enough so wedon't scare children; an' then the Sni-a-bar people consents to let usplay now an' then along the road. All of us virchewosoes is locoed todo good work, so that Sni-a-bar would get reeconciled, an' recognise usas a commoonal factor.

  "'Well do I recall the day of our first public appearance. It's at apolitical meetin' an' everything, so far as we're concerned at least,depends on the impression we-all makes. If we goes to a balk or abreak-down, the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band's" got to go back an'play in the woods.

  "'It's not needed that I tells you gents, how we-all is on aige. OldHickey gets so perturbed he shifts me onto the big drum; an' CatfishEdwards, yeretofore custodian of that instrooment, is given the snare.This play comes mighty clost to breakin' my heart; for I'm ambitious,an' it galls my soul to see myse'f goin' back'ards that a-way. It'sthe beginnin' of my bad luck, too. Thar's no chance to duck the play,however, as old Hickey's word is law, so I sadly buckles on the giantdrum.

  "'We're jest turnin' into the picnic ground where this meetin's bein'held an' I've got thoughts of nothin' but my art--as we moosicianssays--an' elevatin' the local opinion of an' concernin' the meelodiousmerits of the band. We're playin' "Number Eighteen" at the time, an'I've got my eagle eye on the paper that tells me when to welt her; an'I'm shorely leatherin' away to beat a ace-flush.

  "'Bein' I'm new to the big drum, an' onduly eager to succeed, I've gotall my eyes picketed on the notes. It would have been as well if I'dreeserved at least one for scenery. But I don't; an' so it befallsthat when we-all is in the very heart of the toone, an' at what it's noexaggeration to call a crisis in our destinies, I walks straddle of astump. An' sech is my fatal momentum that the drum rolls up on thestump, an' I rolls up on the drum. That's the finish; next day theSilver Cornet Band by edict of the Sni-a-bar pop'lace is re-exiled tothem woods. But I don't go; old Hickey excloodes me, an' my hopes ofmoosical eminence rots down right thar.

  "'It's mebby two days later when I'm over by the postoffice gettin' theweekly paper for my old gent. Thar's goin' to be a Gander-Pullin' bytorchlight that evenin' over to Hickman's Mills with a dance at theheel of the hunt. But I ain't allowin' to be present none. I'm toodeeply chagrined about my failure with that big drum; an' then ag'in,I'm scared to ask a girl to go. You-all most likely has missednoticin' it a heap--for I frequent forces myse'f to be gala an' festivein company--but jest the same, deep down onder my belt, I'm bashful.An' when I'm younger I'm worse. I'm bashful speshul of girls; for Isoon discovers that it's easier to face a gun than a girl, an' theglance of her eye is more terrifyin' than the glimmer of a bowie.That's the way I feels. It's a fact; I remembers a time when mymother, gettin' plumb desp'rate over my hoomility, offers me a runnin'hoss if I'd go co't a girl; on which o'casion I feebly urges that I'drather walk.

  "'On the evenin' of this yer dance an' Gander-Pullin' I'm pirootin'about the Center when I meets up with Jule James;--Jule bein' thevillage belle. "Goin' to the dance?" says Jule. "No," says I. "Whyever don't you go?" asks Jule. "Thar ain't no girl weak-minded enoughto go with me," I replies; "I makes a bid for two or three but gets themitten." This yere last is a bluff. "Which I reckons now," says Jule,givin' me a look, "if you'd asked me, I'd been fool enough to go." Ofcourse, with that I'm treed; I couldn't flicker, so I allows that ifJule'll caper back to the house with me I'll take her yet.

  "'We-all gets back to my old gent's an' I proceeds to hitch up a Dobbinhoss we has to a side-bar buggy. It's dark by now, an' we don't go tothe house nor indulge in any ranikaboo uproar about it, as I figgersit's better not to notify the folks. Not that they'd be out to put thekybosh on this enterprize; but they're powerful fond of talk my folksis, an' their long suit is never wantin' you to do whatever you're outto execoote. Wherefore, as I ain't got no time for a j'int debate withmy fam'ly over technicalities I puts Jule into the side-bar where it'sstandin' in the dark onder a shed; an' then, hookin' up old Dobbin aheap surreptitious, I gathers the reins an' we goes softly p'intin'forth for Hickman's.

  "'As we-all is sailin' thoughtlessly along the trail, Dobbin ups an'bolts. Sech flights is onpreeceedented in the case of Dobbin--who'sthat sedate he's jest alive--an' I'm shore amazed; but I yanks him upan' starts anew. It's twenty rods when Dobbin bolts ag'in. This timeI hears a flutter, an' reaches 'round Jule some to see if herpetticoats is whippin' the wheel. They ain't; but Jule--who esteemssaid gesture in the nacher of a caress--seemin' to favour the idee, Ilets my arm stay 'round. A moment later an' this yere villain Dobbinbolts the third time, an' as I've sort o' got my one arm tangled upwith Jule, he lams into a oak tree.

  "'It's then, when we're plumb to a halt, I does hear a flutter. Atthat I gets down to investigate. Gents, you-all may onderstand myhorror when I finds 'leven of my shawl-neck game chickens roostin' onthat side-bar's reach! They're thar when we pulls out. They'veretired from the world an' its cares for the night an', in ourignorance of them chicken's domestic arrangements, we blindly takes 'emwith us. Now an' then, as we goes rackin' alon
g, one of 'em getsjolted off. Then he'd hang by his chin an' beat his wings; an' it'sthese frenzied efforts he makes to stay with the game that evolves themalarmin' flutterin's.

  "'Jule--who don't own chickens an' who ain't no patron of cockfightsneither--is for settin' the shawl-necks on the fence an' pickin' 'em upas we trails back from the Gander-Pullin'.

  "'"As long as it's dark," says Jule, "they'll stay planted; an' werounds 'em up on our return."

  "'But I ain't that optimistic. I knows these chickens an' they ain'tso somnolent as all that. Besides it's a cinch that a mink or a foxcomes squanderin' 'round an' takes 'em in like gooseberries. 'Levenshawl-necks! Why, it would be a pick-up for a fox!

  "'"You're a fine Injun to take a girl to a dance!" says Jule at last,an' she's full of scorn.

  "'"Injun or no Injun," I retorts a heap sullen, "thar ain't noGander-Pullin' goin' to jestify me in abandonin' my 'leven shawl-necksan' me with a main to fight next month over on the Little Bloo!"

  "'At that I corrals the chickens an' imprisons 'em in the r'ar of theside-bar an' goes a-weavin' back for camp, an' I picks up three moreshawl-necks where they sets battin' their he'pless eyes in the road.

  "'But I shore hears Jule's views of me as a beau! They're hot enoughto fry meat! Moreover, Jule tells all Sni-a-bar an' I'm at once ascoff an' jeer from the Kaw to the Gasconade. Jule's old pap washesout his rifle an' signs a pledge to plug me if ever ag'in I puts myhand on his front gate. As I su'gests, it rooins my social c'reer inSni-a-bar.

  "'While I'm ground like a toad that a-way beneath the harrow of thisdouble setback of the drum an' Jule, thar's a circus shows up an'pitches its merry tent in Sni-a-bar. I knows this caravan of yore--forI'm a master-hand for shows in my yooth an' allers goes--an' bein' byvirchoo of my troubles ready to plunge into dissipation's mad an'swirlin' midst, I sa'nters down the moment the waggons shows up; an'after that, while that circus stays, folks who wants to see me, day ornight, has to come to the show.

  "'The outfit is one of them little old jim-crow shows that chargestwo-bits an' stays a month; an' by the end of the first day, me an' theclown gets wropped up like brothers; which I'm like one of the fam'iy!I fetches water an' he'ps rub hosses an', speakin' gen'ral, does morenigger work than I ever crosses up with prior endoorin' my entire life.But knowin' the clown pays for all; sech trivial considerations aspullin' on tent ropes an' spreadin' sawdust disappears before thehonour of his a'quaintance. It's my knowin' the clown that leads todisaster.

  "'This merrymaker, who's a "jocund wight" as Colonel Sterett says, getsa heap drunk one evenin' 'an' sleeps out in the rain, an' he awakes ashoarse as bull-frogs. He ain't able to sing his song in the ring.It's jest before they begins.

  "'"Dan," he croaks, plenty dejected, "I wish you'd clown up an' go inan' sing that song."

  "'This cantata he alloodes to, is easy; it's "Roll Jurdan, Roll," an' Ihears it so much at nigger camp meetin's an' sim'lar distractions, thatI carols it in my sleep. As the clown throws out his bluff I considersawhile some ser'ous. I feels like mebby I've cut the trail of acunnin' idee. When Jule an' old Hickey an' the balance of themSni-a-bar outcasts sees me in a clown's yooniform, tyrannisin' about,singin' songs an' leadin' up the war-jig gen'ral, they'll regret theopinions they so freely expresses an' take to standin' about, hopin'I'll bow. They'll regyard knowin' me as a boon. With that, I tellsthe clown to be of good cheer. I'll prance in an' render that lay an'his hoarseness won't prove no setback to the gaiety of nations.

  "'But I don't sing after all; an' I don't pile up Jule an' old Hickeyan' the sports of Sni-a-bar neither in any all 'round jumble ofamazement at my genius.

  "'"Dan," says the ring master when we're in the dressin' room, "whenthe leapin' begins, you-all go on with the others an' do a somersaultor two?"

  "'"Shore!" I says.

  "'I feels as confidant as a kangaroo! Which I never does try it none;but I supposes that all you has to do is hit the springboard an' letthe springboard do the rest. That's where I'm barkin' at a knot!

  "'This yere leapin' comes first on the bill. I ain't been in the ringyet; the tumblin' business is where I makes my deeboo. I've got on awhite clown soote with big red spots, an' my face is all flour. I'm ascertain of my comin' pop'larity as a wet dog. I shore allows that whenJule an' old Hickey observes my graceful agility an' then hears mewarble "Roll Jurdan, Roll," I'll make 'em hang their heads.

  "'The tumblin' is about to begin; the band's playin', an' all usathletes is ranged Injun file along a plank down which we're to run.I'm the last chicken on the roost.

  "'Even unto this day it's a subject of contention in circus cirkles asto where I hits that springboard. Some claims I hits her too high up;an' some says too low; for myse'f, I concedes I'm ignorant on thep'int. I flies down the plank like a antelope! I hears the snarl ofthe drums! I jumps an' strikes the springboard!

  "'It's at this juncture things goes queer. To my wonder I don't turnno flip-flap, but performs like a draw-shot in billiards. I plants mymoccasins on the springboard; an' then instead of goin' on an' over acayouse who's standin' thar awaitin' sech events, I shoots back'ardabout fifteen foot an' lands in a ondistinguishable heap. An' as Istrikes a plank it smashes a brace of my ribs.

  "'For a second I'm blurred in my intellects. Then I recovers; an' asI'm bein' herded back into the dressin' room by the fosterin' hands ofthe ring master an' my pard, the clown, over in the audience I hearsJule's silvery laugh an' her old pap allowin' he'd give a hoss if I'donly broke my neck. Also, I catches a remark of old Hickey; "Whichthat Boggs boy allers was a ediot!" says old Hickey.'"