CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
_Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends_
It will be observed by those who are accustomed to make note of trifles,that the chronicler, after packing Cephas off in a barouche with thehandsome Captain Falconer, still manages to retain him in Shady Dale.For the sake of those who may be puzzled over the matter, let us saythat it is a mistake of the reporter. That is the way our public mendispose of their unimportant inconsistencies--and the reporter, for hispart, can say that the trouble is due to a typographical error. Thetruth is, however, that when a cornfield chronicler finds himselfentangled in a rush of events, even if they are minor ones, he feelscompelled to resort to that pattern of the "P. S." which is socomforting to the lady writers, and so captivating to their readers.
Mr. Sanders is supposed to be on his way to Savannah on the same trainwith Cephas and Captain Falconer, supposing the train to be on time.Nevertheless, it is necessary to give a further account of his movementsbefore he started on the journey that was to prove to be such animportant event in Gabriel's career.
On the third morning after the arrest of the young men, Mrs. Lumsdenexpressed a desire to see Mr. Sanders, but he was nowhere to be found.Many sympathetic persons, including Nan Dorrington, joined in thesearch, but it proved to be a fruitless one. As a matter of fact, Mr.Sanders had gone to bed early the night before, but a little aftermidnight he awoke with a start. This was such an unusual experience thathe permitted it to worry him. He had had no dream, he had heard nonoise; yet he had suddenly come out of a sound and refreshing sleep withevery faculty alert. He struck a match, and looked at his watch. It wasa quarter to one.
"I wish, plague take 'em!" he said with a snort, "that somebody wouldwhirl in an' make a match that wouldn't smifflicate the whole house an'lot."
He lit the candle, and then proceeded to draw on his clothes. In thecourse of this proceeding, he lay back on the bed with his hands underhis head. He lay thus for some minutes, and then suddenly jumped to hisfeet with an exclamation. He put on his clothes in a hurry, and went outto the stables, where he gave his horse a good feed--seventeen ears ofcorn and two bundles of fodder.
Then he returned to the house, and rummaged around until he found apitcher of buttermilk and a pone of corn-bread, which he disposed ofdeliberately, and with great relish. This done, he changed his clothes,substituting for those he wore every day the suit he wore on Sundays andholidays. When all these preparations were complete, the hands of hiswatch stood at quarter past three. He had delayed and dillydallied inorder to give his horse time to eat. The animal had taken advantage ofthe opportunity, for when Mr. Sanders went to the stables, the RackingRoan was playfully tossing the bare cobs about in the trough with hisflexible upper lip.
"Be jigged ef your appetite ain't mighty nigh as good as mine," heremarked, whereupon the roan playfully bit at him. "Don't do that, myson," protested Mr. Sanders. "Can't you see I've got on my Sunday duds?"
To bridle and saddle the horse was a matter of a few moments only, andwhen Mr. Sanders mounted, the spirited horse was so evidently in for afrolic that he was going at a three-minute gait by the time the riderhad thrown a leg over the saddle.
A horseback ride, when the weather is fine and the sun is shining, is avery pleasing experience, but it is not to be compared to a ride in thedark, provided you are on good terms with your horse, and are familiarwith the country. You surrender yourself entirely to the creature'smovements, and if he is a horse equipped with courage, common-sense andenergy, you are lifted entirely out of your everyday life into theregions of romance and derring-do--whatever that may be. There is noother feeling like it, no other pleasure to be compared to it; all therest smell of the earth.
"I'm sorter glad I lit that match," Mr. Sanders remarked to the horse."It's like gittin' a whiff of the Bad Place, an' then breathin' thefresh air of heav'n." The reply of the roan was a sharp affirmativesnort.
The sun was just rising when Mr. Sanders rode into Halcyondale.Coincident with his arrival, the train from Atlanta came in with atremendous clatter. There was much creaking and clanking as it slowed upat the modest station. It paused just long enough for the mail-bag and atrunk to be thrown off with a bang, and then it went puffing away. Shortas the pause had been, one of the passengers, in the person of ColonelBolivar Blasengame, had managed to escape from it. The Colonel, with hisvalise in his hand, paused to watch the train out of sight, and thenleisurely made his way toward his home. To reach that point, he wascompelled to cross the public square, and as he emerged from the sidestreet leading to the station, he met Mr. Sanders, who had also beenwatching the train.
"Hello, Colonel, how are you? We belong apparently to the early birdsociety."
"Good-morning, Mr. Sanders," replied the Colonel, with a smile offriendly welcome. "What wind has blown you over here?"
"Why, I want to see Major Perdue. You know we have had trouble in oursettlement."
"And you want to see Tomlin because you have had trouble; but why is it,Mr. Sanders, that your people never think of me when you have trouble?Am I losing caste in your community?"
"Well, you know, Colonel, you haven't been over sence the year one; an'then the Major is kinder kin to one of the chaps that's been took off."
"Exactly; but did it ever occur to you that whoever is kin to Tomlin isa little kin to me," remarked the Colonel. "Tomlin is mybrother-in-law--But where are you going now?"
"Well, I thought I would go to the tavern, have my hoss put up an' fed,git a snack of somethin' to eat, an' then call on the Major."
"You hadn't heard, I reckon, that the tavern is closed, and thelivery-stable broke up," said the Colonel, by way of giving the visitorsome useful information.
At that moment a negro came out on the veranda of the hotel--only theolder people called it a tavern--and rang the bell that meant breakfastin half an hour.
"What's that?" inquired Mr. Sanders, though he knew well enough.
"It's pure habit," replied the Colonel. "That nigger has been ringingthe bell so long that he can't quit it. Anyhow, you can't go to thetavern, and you can't go to Tomlin's. He's got a mighty big family tosupport, Tomlin has. He's fixin' up to have a son-in-law, and he'salready got a daughter, and old Minervy Ann, who brags that she can eatas much as she can cook. No, you can't impose on Tomlin."
"Then, what in the world will I do?" Mr. Sanders asked with a laugh. Hewas perfectly familiar with the tactics of the Colonel.
"Well, there wasn't any small-pox or measles at my house when I left daybefore yesterday. Suppose we go there, and see if there's anything thematter. If the stable hasn't blown away or burned down, maybe you'llfind a place for your horse, and then we can scuffle around maybe, andfind something to eat. That's a fine animal you're on. He's the one, Ireckon, that walked the stringer, after the bridge had been washed away.I never could swallow that tale, Mr. Sanders."
"Nor me nuther," replied Mr. Sanders. "All I know is that he took meacross the river one dark night after a fresh, an' some folks on t'otherside wouldn't believe I had come across. They got to the place whar thebridge ought to 'a' been long before dark, and they found it all goneexcept one stringer. I seed the stringer arterwards, but I never couldmake up my mind that my hoss walked it wi' me a-straddle of his back."
"Still, if he was my horse," Colonel Blasengame remarked, "I wouldn'ttake a thousand dollars for him, and I reckon you've heard it rumouredaround that I haven't got any more money than two good steers couldpull."
Mr. Sanders turned his horse's head in the direction that ColonelBlasengame was going, and when they arrived at his home, he stopped atthe gate. "Mr. Sanders," he said, taking out his watch, "I'll bet youtwo dollars and a half to a horn button that breakfast will be ready inten minutes, and that everything will be fixed as if company wasexpected."
And it was true. By the time the horse had been put in the stable andfed, breakfast was ready, and when Mr. Sanders was ushered into theroom, Mrs. Blasengame was sitting in her place at the table pouring
outcoffee. She was a frail little woman, but her eyes were bright withenergy, and she greeted the unexpected guest as cordially as if he hadcome on her express invitation. She had little to say at any time, butwhen she spoke her words were always to the purpose.
"What did you accomplish?" she asked her husband, after Mr. Sanders, asin duty bound, had praised the coffee and the biscuit, and the meal waswell under way.
"Nothing, honey; not a thing in the world. I thought the boys had beencarried to Atlanta, but they are at Fort Pulaski."
Mrs. Blasengame said nothing more, and the Colonel was for talking aboutsomething else, but the curiosity of Mr. Sanders was aroused.
"What boys was you referrin' to, Colonel?" he asked.
"I don't like to tell you, Mr. Sanders," replied Colonel Blasengame,"but if you'll take no offence, I'll say that the boys are from a littleone-horse country settlement called Shady Dale, a place where the peopleare asleep day and night. A parcel of Yankees went over there the othernight, snatched four boys out of their beds, and walked off with them."
"That's so," Mr. Sanders assented.
"Yes, it's so," cried the Colonel hotly. "And it's a----" He caught theeye of his wife and subsided. "Excuse me, honey; I'm rather wrought upover this thing. What worries me," he went on, "is that the boys wereyerked out of bed, and carried off, and then their own families went tosleep again. But suppose they didn't turn over and go back to sleep:doesn't that make matters worse? I can't understand it to save my life.Why, if it had happened here, the whole town would have been wide awakein ten minutes, and the boys would never have been carried across thecorporation line. Tomlin is mighty near wild about it. If I hadn't goneto Atlanta, he would have gone; and you know how he is, honey. Somebodywould have got hurt."
Yet, strange to say, Major Tomlin Perdue was far cooler and moredeliberate than his brother-in-law, Colonel Blasengame. It was thepeculiarity of each that he was anxious to assume all the dangerousresponsibilities with which the other might be confronted; and the onlyserious dispute between the two men was in the shape of a hotcontroversy as to which should call to account the writer of a card inwhich Major Perdue was criticised somewhat more freely than politenesswarranted.
"You are correct in your statement about the four boys bein' took away,"said Mr. Sanders, "but you'll have to remember that the woods ain't sofull of Blasengames an' Perdues as they used to be; an' you ain't got inthis town a big, heavy balance-wheel the size an' shape of MeriwetherClopton."
"Yes, dear, you were about to be too hasty in your remarks," suggestedMrs. Blasengame. Her soft voice had a strangely soothing effect on herhusband. "If some of our young men had been seized, all of us, includingyou, my dear, would have been in a state of paralysis, just as ourfriends in Shady Dale were."
"The only man in town that know'd it," Mr. Sanders explained, "was SilasTomlin. He was sleepin' in the same room wi' Paul, an' they rousted himout, an' took him along. They carried him four or five mile. He had towalk back, an' by the time he got home, the sun was up."
"That puts a new light on it," said the Colonel, "and Tomlin will be asglad to hear it as I am. But I wonder what the rest of the State willthink of us."
"My dear, didn't these young men, and the Yankees who arrested them,take the train here?" inquired Mrs. Blasengame. She nodded to Mr.Sanders, and a peculiar smile began to play over that worthy's features.
"By George! I believe they did, honey!" exclaimed the Colonel.
"And in broad daylight?" persisted the lady.
To this the Colonel made no reply, and Mr. Sanders became thecomplainant. "I dunner what we're comin' to," he declared, "when apassel of Yankees can yerk four of our best young men on a train in thistown in broad daylight, an' all the folks a-stanin' aroun' gapin' at'em, an' wonderin' what they're gwine to do next."
"Say no more, Mr. Sanders; say no more--the mule is yours." This in theslang of the day meant that the point at issue had been surrendered.
"I suppose Lucy Lumsden is utterly crushed on Gabriel's account,"remarked Mrs. Blasengame.
"Crushed!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "no, ma'am! not much, if any. She'sfightin' mad."
"I know well how she feels," said the pale, bright-eyed little woman."It is a pity the men can't have the same feeling."
"Why, honey, what good would it do?" the Colonel asked, somewhatquerulously.
"It would do no good; it would do harm--to some people."
"And yet," said the Colonel, turning to Mr. Sanders with a protestingfrown on his face, "when I want to show some fellow that I'm still ontop of the ground, or when Tomlin takes down his gun and goes after somerascal, she makes such a racket that you'd think the world was coming toan end."
"A racket! I make a racket? Why, Mr. Blasengame, I'm ashamed of you! theidea!"
"Well, racket ain't the word, I reckon; but you look so sorry, honey,that to me it's the same as making a racket. It takes all the grit outof me when I know that you are sitting here, wondering what minute I'llbe brought home cut into jiblets, or shot full of holes."
Mrs. Blasengame laughed, as she rose from the table. She stood tiptoe topin a flower in her husband's button-hole.
"You've missed a good deal, Mr. Sanders," said the Colonel, stooping tokiss his wife. "You don't know what a comfort it is to have a little bitof a woman to boss you, and cuss you out with her eyes when you git onthe wrong track."
"Yes," said Mr. Sanders, "I allers feel like a widower when I see a manreely in love wi' his wife. It's a sight that ain't as common as it usedto be. We'll go now, if you're ready, an' see the Major. I ain't gotmuch time to tarry."
"Oh, you want me to go too?" said the Colonel eagerly. "Well, I'm yourman; you can just count on me, no matter what scheme you've got onhand."
They went to Major Perdue's, and were ushered in by Minervy Ann. "I'mmighty glad you come," said she; "kaze 'taint been ten minnits senceMarse Tomlin wuz talkin' 'bout gwine over dar whar you live at; an' heain't got no mo' business in de hot sun dan a rabbit is got in a blazin'brushpile. Miss Vallie done tole 'im so, an' I done tole 'im so. He wentter bed wid de headache, an' he got up wid it; an' what you call dat, ef'taint bein' sick? But, sick er well, he'll be mighty glad ter see you."
Aunt Minervy Ann made haste to inform the Major that he had visitors. "Ituck 'em in de settin'-room," she said, "kaze dat parlour look ez coldez a funer'l. It give me de shivers eve'y time I go in dar. De cheersset dar like dey waitin' fer ter make somebody feel like dey ain'twelcome, an' dat ar sofy look like a coolin'-board."
Mr. Sanders was very much at home in the Major's house; he had dandledVallie on his knee when she was a baby; and he had made the Major'stroubles his own as far as he could. Consequently the greeting hereceived was as cordial as he could have desired. "Major," he said, whenhe found opportunity to state the nature of his business, "do you knowyoung Gabe Tolliver?"
"Mighty well--mighty well," responded Major Perdue, "and a fine boy heis. He'll make his mark some day."
"Not onless we do somethin' to help him out. They ain't no way in theworld he can prove that he didn't kill that feller Hotchkiss. Ike Varnerdone the killin', but he's gone, an' I think his wife is fixin' to go toAtlanta. They've got the dead wood on Gabriel. They ain't no case at allag'in the rest; but you know how Gabriel is--he goes moonin' about inthe fields both day an' night, an' it's mighty hard for to put yourfinger on him when you want him. An' to make it wuss, Hotchkiss calledhis name more'n once before he died. It looks black for Gabriel, an' wemust do somethin' for him."
Major Perdue leaned forward a little, a frown on his face, and stretchedforth his left hand, in the palm of which he placed the forefinger ofhis right. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I'm just as much obliged toyou for coming to me as if you had saved me from drowning. I have cometo the point where I can't hold in much longer, and maybe you'll keep mefrom making a fool of myself. I'll say beforehand, I don't care whatyour plan is; I don't care to know it--just count on me."
"And where do I come in?" Colonel Blasen
game inquired.
"Right by my side," responded Major Perdue.
Without further preliminaries, Mr. Sanders set forth the details of theprogramme that had arranged itself in his mind, and when he was through,Major Perdue leaned back in his chair, and gazed with admiration at thebland and child-like countenance of this Georgia cracker. The innocenceof childhood shone in Mr. Sanders's blue eyes.
"I swear, Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of servingwith you in Virginia. If there is anything in this world that I likeit's a man with a head on him, and that's what you've got. You can counton us if we are alive. I don't know how Bolivar feels about it, but Ifeel that you have done me a great favour in thinking of me inconnection with this business. You couldn't pay either of us a highercompliment."
"Tomlin expresses my views exactly," said Colonel Blasengame; "yet Ifeel that one of us will be enough. It may be that your scheme willfail, and that those who are engaged in it will have to take theconsequence. Now, I'd rather take 'em alone than to have Tumlin mixed upwith it."
"Fiddlesticks, Bolivar! you couldn't keep me out of it unless you had abench-warrant served on me five minutes before the train left, and ifyou try that, I'll have one served on you. Now, don't forget to tellTidwell that I'll be glad to renew that dispute. I bear no malice, butwhen it comes to a row, I don't need malice to keep my mind and my gunin working order. I'm going down to Malvern to-morrow, and before I comeaway, I'll have everything fixed. There are some details, you know, thatnever occurred to you: the police, for instance. Well, the chief ofpolice is a very good friend of mine, and the major was Bolivar'sadjutant."
"Well, I thank the Lord for all his mercies!" cried Mr. Sanders; and hemeant what he said.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 28