CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
_Mr. Sanders Receives a Message_
The demeanour of Mr. Sanders about this time was a seven days' wonder inShady Dale. As Mrs. Absalom declared, he had tucked his good-humourunder the bed, and was now going about in a state of gloom. This atleast was the general impression; but Mr. Sanders was not gloomy. He wasfilled to the brim with impatience, and was to be seen constantlywalking the streets, or occupying his favourite seat on the court-housesteps, the seat that had always attracted him when he was communing withJohn Barleycorn. But he and John Barleycorn were strangers now; theywere not on speaking terms. He avoided the companionship of those whowere in the habit of seeking him out to enjoy his drolleries; andvarious rumours flew about as to the cause of his apparent troubles. Hewas on the point of joining the church, having had enough of the world'ssinfulness; he had lost the money he made by selling cotton directlyafter the war; he had been jilted by some buxom country girl. In short,when a man is as prominent in a community as Mr. Sanders was in ShadyDale, he must pay such penalty as gossip levies when his conduct becomespuzzling or problematical.
The tittle-tattle of the town ran in a different direction when some onediscovered that the Racking Roan was tied every day to the rack behindthe court-house. Then the gossips were certain that the Yankees wereafter Mr. Sanders, and his horse was placed close at hand in order togive him an opportunity to escape. Mr. Sanders apparently confirmed thisrumour when he told Cephas to take the horse to Clopton's, should hefind the animal standing at the rack after sundown.
As Mr. Sanders walked about, or sat on the court-house steps, hewondered if he had made all the arrangements necessary to the scheme hehad in view. Hundreds and hundreds of times he went over the ground inhis mind, and reviewed every step he had taken, trying to discover ifanything had been omitted, or if there were any flaw in the plan heproposed to follow. He had made all his arrangements beforehand. He hadmade a visit to Malvern, and remained there several days. He had met theMayor of the city, the Chief of Police, and the latter had casuallyintroduced him to the Chief of the Fire Department.
Mr. Sanders accounted himself very fortunate in making the acquaintanceof the Fire Chief, who was what might be termed one of theunreconstructed. He was something more than that, he was anirreconcilable, who would have been glad of an opportunity to take uparms again. This official took an eager interest in the scheme which Mr.Sanders had in view; in fact, as he said himself, it was a personalinterest. He invited Mr. Sanders to the head-quarters of the FireDepartment.
"I'll tell you why I want you to come," he said. "There's a man in myoffice, or he will be there when we arrive, who is likely to take asmuch interest in this thing as I do--he couldn't take more--and I wanthim to hear your plan. Have you ever heard of Captain Buck Sanford?"
Mr. Sanders paused in the street, and stared at the Fire Chief. "Heardof him? Well, I should say! He's the feller that fights a duel beforebreakfast to git up an appetite. Well, well! How many men has BuckSanford winged?"
"Oh, quite a number, but not as many as he gets credit for. He comes inmy private office every morning, and he's a great help to me. He wasrather down at the heels right after the war, and then I happened tofind out that he had a great talent in getting the truth out ofcriminals. We sometimes arrest a man against whom there is no directevidence of guilt, and if we didn't have some one skilful enough to makehim own up, we could do nothing. Buck always knows whether a fellow isguilty or not, and we turn over the suspects to him, and whatever hesays goes. He sits in my office like a piece of furniture, and you'dthink he was a wooden man. Now you go down with me, and go over yourscheme so that Buck can hear you, and whatever he says do, will be thething to do."
When Mr. Sanders and the Chief arrived at the head-quarters of thedepartment, and entered the private office, they found a pale andsomewhat emaciated young man sitting in a chair, which was leanedagainst the wall at a somewhat dangerous angle. He was apparentlyasleep; his eyes were closed, and he held between his teeth a short buthandsome pipe. He made no movement whatever when the two entered theroom. His hat was on the floor at the side of his chair, and hadevidently fallen from his head. If Mr. Sanders had been called on todescribe the young man, he would have said that he was a weasly lookingcreature, half gristle and half ghost. His hands were small and thin,and the skin of his face had the appearance of parchment.
At the request of the Chief, Mr. Sanders went over the details of hisplan from beginning to end, and at the close the young man, who hadapparently been asleep, remarked in a thin, smooth voice, "Won't it be afine day for a parade!"
His eyes remained closed; he had not even taken the pipe out of hismouth. There was a silence of many long seconds. But the weasly lookingman made no movement, nor did he add anything to his remark. Evidently,he had no more to say.
"Buck is right," said the Chief.
"What does he mean?" Mr. Sanders inquired.
"Why, he means that it will be a fine day for a general turn-out of thedepartment," replied the Chief.
Mr. Sanders reflected a moment, and then made one of his characteristiccomments. "Be jigged ef he ain't saved my life!"
"Captain Sanford, this is Mr. Sanders, of Shady Dale," said the Chief,by way of introducing the two men. Both rose, and Mr. Sanders foundhimself looking into the eyes of one of the most interesting charactersthat Georgia ever produced. Captain Buck Sanford was one of the last ofthe knights-errant, the self-constituted champion of all women, old oryoung, good or bad. He said of himself, with some drollery, that he wasone of the scavengers of society, and he declared that the job wasimportant enough to command a good salary.
No man in his hearing ever used the name of a woman too freely withoutanswering for it; and it made no difference whether the woman was richor poor, good or bad. Otherwise he was the friendliest and simplest ofmen, as modest as a woman, and entirely unobtrusive. His duel withColonel Conrad Asbury, one of the most sensational events in the annalsof duelling, owing to the fact that the weapons were shot-guns at tenpaces, was the result of a remark the Colonel had made about a lady whomSanford had never seen. But so far as the general public knew, it grewout of the fact that the Colonel had spilled some water on Sanford'spantaloons.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Sanders, "I've heard tell of you many a time, an'I'm right down glad to see you."
"You haven't heard much good of me, I reckon," Captain Sanford remarked.
"Yes; not so very long ago I heard a fine old lady say that if they wasmore Buck Sanfords, the wimmen would be better off."
A faint colour came into the face of the duellist. "Is that so?" heasked with some eagerness.
"It's jest like I tell you, an' the lady was Lucy Lumsden, thegrandmother of this chap that we're tryin' to git out'n trouble."
"I wonder if Tomlin Perdue wouldn't let me into the row?" inquiredCaptain Sanford. "You see, it's this way: If the boy can't break away,it would be well for a serious accident to happen, and in that case,you'll need a man that's perfectly willing to bear the brunt of such anaccident."
"We'll see about that," said Mr. Sanders.
"Suppose it's a rainy day, Buck; what then?" asked the Chief.
"And you a grown man!" exclaimed Mr. Sanford, sarcastically. "Did youever hear of a false alarm? Or were you at a Sunday-school picnic whenit was rung in? Oh, I'm going to get a blacksmith and have your headworked on," and with that, Captain Buck Sanford turned on his heel andwent out.
"I know Buck was pleased with your plan," the Chief declared. "He noddedat me a time or two when you wasn't looking. If you can work him intothe row, it will tickle him mightily. He ain't flighty; he never getsmad; and he always knows just what to do, and when to shoot."
Thus, long before he became impatient enough to walk the streets, orseek consolation on the court-house steps, which he called hisliquor-post, Mr. Sanders had made all the arrangements necessary to thesuccess of his scheme. He had sent a suit of clothes to a friend inMalvern, he had shipped three bales of cotton
to the firm of Vardeman &Stark, who had been informed of the use to which Mr. Sanders desired toput it; he had hired an ox-cart, and made a covered waggon of it; andthe yoke of oxen he proposed to use had been driven through the countryand were now at Malvern.
In short, no matter how deeply Mr. Sanders might ponder over the matter,there was nothing he could think of to add to the details of thearrangement that he had already made.
One morning, while Nan, who was on her way to borrow a book from EugeniaClaiborne, was leaning on the court-house fence talking to Mr. Sanders,Tasma Tid cried out, "Yonner dee come! yonner dee come!" The African,who had heard the rumour that the Yankees were after Mr. Sanders,concluded that this was the advance guard, and she therefore sounded thealarm. But only a solitary rider was in sight, and he was coming as fastas a tired horse could fetch him. By the time this rider had reached thepublic square, Mr. Sanders had mounted the Racking Roan, and wasawaiting him. The rider was no other than Colonel Blasengame, who hadinsisted on bringing the message himself.
He was the bearer of a telegram addressed to Major Perdue. "Consignmentwill be shipped to-morrow night. Reach Malvern next morning. Invoice bymail." This was signed by the firm of factors with whom MeriwetherClopton had had dealings for many years. It was the form of announcementthat had been agreed on, and to Mr. Sanders the message read, "Theprisoners will go to Atlanta to-morrow night, and they will reachMalvern the next morning. This information can be relied on."
"It's a joy to see you, Colonel," cried Mr. Sanders. "One more day ofwaitin' would 'a' pulled the rivets out. You know Miss Nan Dorrington,don't you, Colonel Blasengame? I lay you used to dandle her on your kneewhen she was a baby."
The Colonel bowed lower to Nan than if she had been a queen. "You arenot to go to the tavern," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Meriwether Cloptonwants the messenger to go straight to his house, an' he'll be all thegladder bekaze it's you. Gus Tidwell will drive you home in his buggy inthe cool of the evenin', an' you can leave your hoss at Clopton's for aday or two. Ef you see Tidwell, Nan, please tell him that the Colonel isat Clopton's. I reckon you'll be willin' to buss me, honey, the nexttime you see me."
"If you have earned it, Mr. Sanders," said Nan, trying to smile.
Thereupon, Mr. Sanders waved his hand miscellaneously, as he would havedescribed it, and moved away at a clipping gait, stirring up quite acloud of dust as he went. He reached Halcyondale, and at once sought outMajor Tomlin Perdue, and found that a telegram had already been sent toCaptain Buck Sanford, whose prompt reply over the wire had been. "Allskue vee," which was as satisfactory as any other form of reply wouldhave been--more so, perhaps, for it showed that the Captain was in highgood-humour.
Mr. Tidwell and Colonel Blasengame arrived in time to eat a latesupper, and the next morning found them all ready to take the train forMalvern. Major Perdue and Mr. Sanders were in high feather. Somehowtheir spirits always rose when a doubtful issue was to be faced. On theother hand, Colonel Blasengame and Mr. Tidwell were somewhatthoughtful--the Colonel because he had an idea that they were trying to"crowd him into a back seat," as he expressed it, and Mr. Tidwellbecause it had occurred to him that his presence might tend tojeopardise the case of his son. They were not gloomy; on the contrarythey were cheerful; but their spirits failed to run as high as those ofMr. Sanders and Major Perdue, who were engaged all the way to Malvern inrelating anecdotes and narrating humourous stories. It seemed thateverything either one of them said reminded the other of a story or ahumourous incident, and they kept the car in a roar until Malvern wasreached.
Mr. Sanders did not go at once to the hotel, but turned his attention tothe various details which he had arranged for. Mr. Tidwell went to thehotel opposite the railway station, while Major Perdue and ColonelBlasengame, for obvious reasons, went to the rival hotel. There theyfound Captain Buck Sanford lounging about with a Winchester rifle slungacross his shoulder. A great many people were interested when this paleand weary-looking little man appeared in public with a gun in his hands,and he was compelled to answer many questions in regard to the event. Toall he made the same reply, namely, that he had been out practising at atarget.
"I'm getting so I can't miss," he said to Major Perdue. "I wastedtwenty-four cartridges trying to miss the bull's eye, but I couldn't doit. I don't know what to make of it," he complained. "There must besomething wrong with me. That kind of shooting don't look reasonable.I'm afraid something is going to happen to me. It may be a sign that I'mgoing to fall over a cellar-door and break my neck, or tumble downstairsand injure my spine."
Then he left his gun with a clerk in the hotel, and, taking Major Perdueby the arm, went into a corner and discussed the scheme which Mr.Sanders had mapped out. They were joined presently by ColonelBlasengame; and as they sat there, whispering together, and making manyemphatic gestures, they were the centre of observation, and word wentaround that some personal difficulty, in which these noted men were toact together, was imminent.
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