II
OLD MAN ENRIGHT'S UNCLE
"Which you'll excoose me," and the old cattleman replaced his glassupon the table with a decisive click, "if I fails to j'ine you in themsent'ments. For myse'f, I approves onreserved of both lies an' liars.Also, that reemark goes double when it comes to public liars tellin'public lies. Which, however se'fish it may sound, I prefers thisgov'ment to last my time; an' it's my idee that if them statesmen backat Washington ever takes a hour off from their tax-eatin' an' tellsthe people the trooth, the whole trooth an' nothin' but the trooth oftheir affairs, said people'll be down on the sityooation instanter,like a weasel on a nest of field mice, an' wipe the face of nacherfree an' cl'ar of these United States."
The above was drawn forth by my condemnatory comments on the publishedspeech of a Senator, wherein the truth was as a grain of wheat in abushel of mendacious chaff.
"Shore," continued the old gentleman, with the manner of one whodelivers final judgment, "lies is not only to be applauded, butfostered. They're the angle-irons an' corner-braces that keeps plumbthe social fabric, wantin' which the whole frame-work of soci'ty wouldgo leanin' sideways, same as that Eyetalian tower you shows me thepicture of the other day. Why, if everybody in the world was to gotellin' the trooth for the next hour ninety-nine folks in everyhundred would be obleeged to put in the rest of their lives hidin'out.
"Do I myse'f ever lie?
"Frequent an' plumb cheerful. I bases life on the rooles laid down bythat sharp who advises folks to do unto others as others does untothem, an' beat 'em to it. Believin', tharfore, in handin' a gent hisown system, I makes it my onbreakable practice to allers lie to liars.Then, ag'in, whenever some impert'nent prairie dog takes to rummagin''round with queries to find out my deesigns, I onflaggingly fills himto the brim with all forms of misleadin' mendac'ty, an' casts everyfictional obstruction in his path that's calc'lated to get betweenhis heels an' trip him up. I shore do admire to stand all sechinquirin' mavericks on their heads, an' partic'ler if they're plottin'ag'in me.
"An' why not? A party that a-way, as I some time ago instructs you,ain't got no more right to search my head than to search my warbags,an' a gent who may lock a door may lie. Which, if you'll go off byyourse'f an' think this yere over, you'll see that it's so, an' sowith a double cinch.
"Thar's statements, too, which, speakin' technical, might be regyardedas lyin' which don't in jestice class onder no sech head. Forspec'men, when Dick Wooten, upon me askin' him how long he's beeninhabitin' the Raton Pass, p'ints to the Spanish Peaks an' says, 'Yousee them em'nences? Well, when I pitches camp in this yere gully themmountings was two holes in the ground,' I don't feel like he's lyin'.I merely remembers that he steals the bluff from old Jim Bridger,grins an' lets it go at that.
"Likewise, I'm sim'larly onaffected towards that amiable multitoodewho simply lies to entertain. These yere latter sports in theirpreevar'cations is public ben'factors. You-all can spread yourse'fout in the ca'm shadow of their yarns, same as if it's the shade of atree, an' find tharin reefreshment an' reepose.
"While the most onimag'native of us, from Peets to Cherokee, ain'tnone puny as conversationists, the biggest liar, ondoubted, who evercomes romancin' into Wolfville is Enright's uncle, who visits him thattime. Back in Tennessee a passel of scientists makes what this yererelative of Enright's deescribes as a 'Theological Survey' of somewaste land he has on Gingham Mountain, an' finds coal. An' after thathe's rich. Thus, in his old age, but chipper as a coopful of catbirds,he comes rackin' into town, allowin' he'll take a last look at hisnephy, Sam, before he cashes in.
"His name is Stallins, bein' he's kin to Enright on his mother's side,an' since thar's nine ahead of him--Enright's mother bein' among thefirst--an' he don't come along as a infant ontil the heel of thedomestic hunt that a-way, he's only got it on Enright by ten years inthe matter of age.
THE SECOND EVENING OLD STALLINS IS WITH US, DAN BOGGS AN'TEXAS THOMPSON UPLIFTS HIS AGED SPERITS WITH THE "LOVE DANCE OF THECATAMOUNTS." p. 43.]
"No, I shore shouldn't hes'tate none to mention him as a top-sawyeramong liars, the same bein' his constant boast an' brag. He acceptsthe term as embodyin' a compliment, an' the quick way to get hisbristles up is to su'gest that his genius for mendac'ty is beginnin'to bog down.
"For all that, Enright imparts to me, private, that the old gent as aliar ain't a marker to his former se'f.
"'You've heard tell,' Enright says, 'of neighborhood liars, an'township liars, an' county liars; an' mebby even of liars whose fameas sech might fill the frontiers of a state. Take my uncle, say fortyyears ago, an' give him the right allowance of baldface whiskey, an'the coast-to-coast expansiveness of them fictions he tosses off shoreentitles him to the name of champion of the nation. Compar'd to him,Ananias is but a ambitious amatoor.'
"It's the second evenin' old Stallins is with us, an' Enright takeshim over to Hamilton's Dance Hall, whar Boggs an' Texas--by partic'larreequest--uplifts his aged sperits with that y'ear-splittin' an'toomultuous minyooet, the 'Love Dance of the Catamounts.' Which theexh'bition sets his mem'ry to millin', an' when we gets back to theRed Light he breaks out remin'scent.
"'Sammy,' he says to Enright, 'you was old enough to rec'llect when Ihas that location over on the upper Hawgthief? Gents,' he goes on,turnin' to us, 'it's a six-forty, an'--side hill, swamp an' bottom--asgood a section as any to be crossed up with between the Painted Postan' the 'Possum Trot. It's that "Love Dance of the Catamounts" whichbrings it to my mind, since it's then an' thar, by virchoo of acatamount, I wins my Sarah Ann.
"'She's shore the star-eyed Venus of the Cumberland, is my Sarah Ann.Her ha'r, black as paint, is as thick as a pony's mane; her lips isthe color of pokeberry juice; her cheeks--round an' soft--is as cl'aran' bright an' glowin' as a sunset in Jooly; her teeth is asmilk-white as the inside of a persimmon seed. She's five-foot-elevenwithout her mocassins, stands as up an' down as a pine tree, got a armon her like the tiller of a scow, an' can heft a full-sized side ofbeef an' hang it on the hook. That's fifty years ago. She's back homeon the Hawgthief waitin' for me now, my Sarah Ann is. You'd say she'sas gray as a 'possum, an' as wrinkled as a burnt boot. Mebby so; butnot to me, you bet. She's allers an' ever to me the same endoorin'hooman sunburst I co'tes an' marries that long time ago.'
"Old Stallins pauses to reefresh himse'f, an' Texas, who's beenfidgetin' an' frettin' since the first mention of Sarah Ann, goeswhisperin' to Boggs.
"'Can't some of you-all,' he says, plenty peevish, 'head this yeremushy old tarrapin off? This outfit knows what I suffers with thatLaredo wife of mine. An' yet it looks like I'm to be tortured constantwith tales of married folks, an' not one hand stretched out to save mefrom them reecitals.'
"'Brace up,' returns Boggs, tryin' to comfort him. 'Thicken your hideag'in sech childish feelin's, an' don't be so easy pierced. Besides, Ireckons the worst's over. He's comin' now to them catamounts.'
"Texas grinds his teeth, an' old Stallins resoomes his adventures.
"'My Sarah Ann's old pap has his location jest across the Hawgthieffrom me. Besides him an' Sarah Ann, thar ain't nobody but the oldwoman in the fam'ly, the balance of 'em havin' been swept away in afreshet. Shore, old man Bender--that's Sarah Ann's pap's name--hasfourteen children once, Sarah Ann, who's oldest, bein' the firstchicken on the domestic roost. But the other thirteen is carried offone evenin' when, what with the rains an' what with the snow meltin'back on Gingham Mountain, the Hawgthief gets its back up. Swish comesa big wave of water, an' you hear me them children goes coughin' an'kickin' an' splutterin' into the misty beyond.
"'Which I says thirteen only because that's whar old Bender allersputs his loss. Zeb Stiles, who lives on the Painted Post, insists thatit's fifteen who gets swept away that time. He allows he counts theminfant Benders two evenin's before, perched along on old Bender'spalin's like pigeons on a limb. Thirteen or fifteen, however, it don'tmake no difference much, once they're submerged, that a-way.
"'Mebby I've been co'tin' my Sarah Ann for goin
' on six months, givin'her b'ar robes an' mink pelts, with now an' then a pa'r of bald eaglewings to bresh the hearth. Nothin' heart-movin', however, comes offbetween us, Sarah Ann keepin' me at arm's len'th an' comportin'herse'f plumb uppish, as a maiden should. She's right; a likely girlcan't be too conserv'tive techin' what young an' boundin' bucks comesco'tin' at her house.
"'Old Bender sort o' likes me in streaks. After he gets bereft of themthirteen or fifteen offspring he turns morose a whole lot, an' I usedto go 'cross in my dugout an' cheer him up with my lies.
"'Could I lie?
"'My nephy, Sammy, thar'll nar'ate how I once lies a full-grown b'arto death. The cunnin' varmint takes advantage of me bein' without myweepons, an' chases me up a tree. I ensconces myse'f in the crotch,an' when the b'ar starts to climb I hurls down ontrooth after ontroothon top of him ontill, beneath a avalanche of falsehood, he's crusheddead at the base of the tree. Could I lie, you asks? Even folks whodon't like me concedes that I'm the most irresist'ble liar south ofthe Ohio river.
"'While I'm upliftin' the feelin's of old Bender mendacious thata-way, he likes me; it's only when we gets to kyard-playin' he waxessour. He's a master-hand to gamble, old Bender is, an' as shore as Ishows up, followin' a lie or two, he's bound he'll play me seven-upfor a crock of baldface whiskey. Now thar ain't a sport from the Knobsof old Knox to the Mississippi who could make seed corn off me atseven-up, an' nacherally I beats old Bender out of the baldface.
"'With that he'd rave an' t'ar, an' make like he's goin' to jump forhis 8-squar' Hawkins rifle, whar she's hangin' on a pa'r of antlersover the door; but he'd content himse'f final by orderin' me out ofthe shack, sayin' that no sech kyard-sharpin' galoot as me need comepesterin' 'round allowin' to marry no child of his'n. At sech eepocks,too, it looks like Sarah Ann sees things through the eyes of her oldman, an' she's more'n common icy.
"'One day old Bender goes weavin' over to Pineknot, an' starts totradin' hosses with Zeb Stiles. They seesaws away for hours, an' oldBender absorbs about two dollars' worth of licker, still-house rates.In the finish Zeb does him brown an' does him black on the swap, so itdon't astonish nobody to death when next day he quiles up in hisblankets sick. Marm Bender tries rekiverin' him with yarbs, an'kumfrey tea, an' sweet gum sa'v. When them rem'dies proves footile shedecides that perhaps a frolic'll fetch him.
"'It's about second drink time in the afternoon when Marm Benderstarts out Fiddler Abe, givin' notice of the treat. I hears the oldnigger as, mule-back, he goes meanderin' along, singin':
Thar's a smoke house full of bacon, An' a barrel full of rum. For to eat an' drink an' shake a laig You've only got to come.
"'As soon as Fiddler Abe starts singin' the girls an' boys begincomin' out of the woods like red ants out of a burnin' log, headin'hotfoot for old Bender's.
"'Do I go?
"'It ain't a hour after candle lightin' when, with mebby it's a pintof baldface onder the buckle of my belt, I'm jumpin' higher, shoutin'louder, an' doin' more to loosen the puncheons in the floor than anyfour males of my species who's present at that merry-makin'. It he'psold Bender, too, an' inspired by the company an' onder the inflooenceof four or five stiff toddies, he resolves not to let that hoss tradecarry him to a ontimely grave, an' is sittin' up in his blankets,yellin', "Wake snakes; an' Gin'ral Jackson fit the Injuns!" in happyaccord with the sperit of his times.
"'Fiddler Abe strikes into the exyooberant strains of "Little BlackBull Come Down the Mountains," an' I hauls Ten-spot Mollie out of thegin'ral ruck of calico for a reel. We calls her Ten-spot Molliebecause she's got five freckles on each cheek. All the same, when itcomes to dancin', she's shore a she-steamboat. Every time we swingsshe hefts me plumb free of the floor, an' bats my heels ag'in therafters ontil both ankles is sprained.
"'Sarah Ann falls jealous, seem' me an' Ten-spot Mollie thuspleasantly engaged, an' to get even goes to simperin' an' talkin'giggle-talk to Mart Jenkins, who's rid in from Rapid Run. Jenks is aoffensive numbskull who's wormed his way into soci'ty by lickin' allthe boys 'round his side of Gingham Mountain. At that, he's merelytol'rated.
"'Seein' Sarah Ann philanderin' with Jenks, I lets go of Ten-spotMollie, who goes raspin' an' rollin' into a corner some abrupt, an'sa'nters across to whar they're at. Leanin' over Sarah Ann'soff-shoulder, bein' the one furthest from that onmitigated Jenks, Isays, "Sweetheart, how can you waste time talkin' to this yere hoomanSahara, whose intellects is that sterile they wouldn't raisecow-pease?"
"'This makes Jenks oneasy, an' getting up, he reemarks, "DickStallins, I'll be the all-firedest obleeged to you if you'll attend onme to the foot of the hollow, an' bring your instrooments."
"'At this I explains that I ain't got my instrooments with me, havin'left both rifle an' bowie in the dugout when I paddles over to thedance.
"'Jenks makes a insultin' gesture, an' reetorts, "Don't crawl, DickStallins. Borry old Bender's nine-inch bootcher, an' come with me."
"'To appease him I says I will, an' that I'll j'ine him at the beforenamed slaughter-ground in the flicker of a lamb's tail. Jenks stalksoff plumb satisfied, while I searches out Ben Hazlett, an' whispersthat Jenks is askin' for him some urgent, an' has gone down the tracetowards the foot of the hollow to look him up. Nacherally, mydiplom'cy in this yere behalf sends Ben cavortin' after Jenks; an'this relieves me a heap, knowin' that all Jenks wants is a fight, an'Ben'll do him jest as well as me.
"'Which them was shorely happy days!' he continyoos, settin' down thebottle wharwith he's been encouragin' his faculties. 'Troo, every genthas to sleep with his head in a iron kettle for fear of Injuns, an' ahundred dollars is bigger'n a cord of wood, but life is plentyblissful jest the same.'
"'Was you afraid of this yere Jenks?' asks Boggs.
"'No more'n if he's a streak of lightnin'. Only, I've got on a newhuntin' shirt, made of green blanket cloth, an' I ain't none strenuousabout havin' that gyarment all slashed up.
"'To proceed: After I dispatches Ben on the heels of Jenks that a-wayit occurs to me that mebby I'm sort o' tired with the labors of theevenin', an' I'll find my dugout, ferry myse'f over to my own properwickyup, an' hit the hay for a snooze. I'm some hurried to theconcloosion by the way in which eevents begins to accumyoolate in myimmedyit vicin'ty. Bill Wheeler announces without a word of warnin'that he's a flyin' alligator, besides advancin' the theery that GeneHemphill is about as deeserv'dly pop'lar as a abolitionist in SouthCaroliny. I suspects that this attitoode of mind on Bill's part islikely to provoke discussion, which suspicion is confirmed when Geneknocks Bill down, an' boots him into the dooryard. Once in the open,after a clout or two, Gene an' Bill goes to a clinch an' the fightin'begins.
"'It ain't no time when the circumf'rence of trouble spreads. BudIngalls makes a pass at me pers'nal, an' by way of reeprisal I smashesa stewpan on him. Bud's head goes through the bottom, like the clownthrough them paper hoops in a cirkus, the stewpan fittin' down 'roundhis neck same as one of them Elizbethan ruffs. The stewpan ockyoopiesso much of Bud's attention that I gets impatient, an' so, tellin' himI ain't got no time to wait, I leaves him strugglin' with thatyootensil, an' strolls off down to the Hawgthief whistlin' "SandyLand."
"'It's dark as the inside of a cow, an' somehow I misses the dugout;but bein' stubborn, an' plumb sot about gettin' home, I wades in an'begins to swim. The old Hawgthief is bank full, but I'd have madet'other side all right if it ain't that, as I swims out from onder theoverhangin' branch of a tree, somethin' drops into the water behindme, an' comes snarlin' an' splashin' an' spittin' along in pursoote. Idon't pay much heed at the jump, but when it claws off my nighmoccasin, leavin' a inch-deep gash in my heel, I glances back an'perceives by the two green eyes that I've become an object ofcomsoomin' int'rest to a pa'nter, or what you-all out yere calls amountain lion, an' we-uns back in Tennessee a catamount.'
"'But a panther won't swim,' reemonstrates Tutt.
"'Arizona catamounts won't,' returns old Stallins, 'thar bein' norivers to spe
ak of. But in Tennessee, whar thar's rivers to waste,them cats takes to the water like so many muskrats.
"'When I finds that thar's nothin' doggin' me but a catamount, I headsall casyooal for whar a tree's done been lodged midstream, merelyflingin' the reemark over my shoulder to the catamount that, if hekeeps on annoyin' me, he'll about pick up the makin's of a maulin'.As I crawls out on the bole of the lodged tree, I can hear thecatamount sniggerin', same as if he's laughin' me to scorn, an' thisyere insultin' contoomely half-way makes me mad. Which I ain't in thehabit of bein' took lightly by no catamount.
"'Drawin' myse'f out o' the water, I straddles the bole of my tree,an' organizes for the catamount, who's already crawlin' after me.T'arin' off a convenient bough the thickness of your laig, I arrangesmyse'f as a reeception committee for visitin' catamounts, an' by wayof beginnin' confers on my partic'lar anamile sech a bat over thesnout that he falls back into the drink, an' starts to swimmin' fancyan' goin' 'round in circles, same as if his funny-bone's been teched.
"'Every time he gets in reach I jabs him in the eye with the splinterend of the bough, an' at last he grows that disgusted at theseformal'ties he swims off to the bank. Thar he camps down on hisha'nches, an' glares green-eyed at me across the ragin' flood.
"'Shore, I could have raised the long yell for he'p, but am withheldby foolish pride. Besides, I can hear Ben an' Jenks tusslin' an'gruntin' an' carryin' on over in the mouth of the hollow, as theykyarves into each other with their knives, an' don't want to distracttheir attention.
"'As I sets camped thar on my lodged tree, an' the catamount isplanted on the bank, I hears the lippin' splash of a paddle, an' thena voice which sounds like a chime of bells floats across to ask, "DickStallins, you ornery runnigate, wharever be you?"
"'It's my Sarah Ann, whose love, gettin' the upper hand of maidenlyreeserve, has sent her projectin' 'round in search of me. She's in mydugout.
"'The catamount identifies her as soon as me; an' thinkin' she oughtto be easy, he slides into the water ag'in an' starts for theboat. It's that dark I ain't shore of his deesigns ontil I seeshim reach up, tip the dugout over, an' set Sarah Ann to wallowin' inthe rushin' torrent. The dugout upsets on the catamount, an' this soconfooses him that, by the time he's got his bearin's, Sarah Ann'sbeen swept down to my tree, an' I've lifted her to a seat by myside. The catamount don't try to lay siege to our p'sition,recognizing it as impregnable, but paddles back to the shore an'goes into watchful camp as prior.
"'For myse'f, I'm so elevated with love an' affection at havin' SarahAnn with me, I dismisses the catamount as a dead issue, an' as sechbeneath contempt, an' by way of mollifyin' Sarah Ann's feelin's, cutsloose an' kisses her a gross or two of times, an' each like the crackof a bull-whacker's whip.
"'Old Bender hears them caresses plumb up to his house--as well hemay, they're that onreeserved an' earnest--an' thinks it's some oneshootin' a rifle. It has the effect of bringin' out the old Spartanwith his Hawkins; an' the first word of it that reaches me an' SarahAnn is him, Marm Bender an' the whole b'ilin' of folks is down thar onthe bank, tryin' to make out in the gen'ral dimness whatever be we-alllovers doin' out thar in the middle of the Hawgthief on a snag.
"'They don't deetect my catamount none, which sagacious feline slinksoff into the shadows covered with confoosion; all they sees is us. An'the spectacle certainly excites old Bender. "Gen'ral Jackson fit theInjuns!" he exclaims, as all of a sudden a thought strikes him; "thatmeasly excoose for a Union Democrat out thar is seekin' to eelope withour Sarah Ann."
"'The old murderer starts to get a bead on me with the Hawkins."Father," yells Marm Bender, pullin' at his sleeve, "you shore must bemistook."
"'Old Bender won't have it. "Maw," he returns, strivin' to disengagehimse'f, "I was never mistook about nothin' in my life but once, an'that's when I shifts from baldface whiskey to hard cider on atemp'rance argyooment. Let me go, woman, till I drill the miscreantan' wash the stain from our fam'ly honor."
"'Before the old hom'cide can get to launderin' the fam'ly honor in myblood, however, Sarah Ann has interposed. "Don't go to blazing away atmy Dickey, pop," she sings out, "or I'll shore burn every improvementyou got, an' leave you an' maw an' me roofless in the midst of thewilderness."
"'This goes a long way towards soberin' down old Bender, because heknows my Sarah Ann's the Cumberland hollyhock to put them menaces intoexecootion. He lowers the muzzle of his old 8-squar', an' allows if Ipromises to marry the girl I can swim ashore an' be forgiven.
"'Thus the matter ends mighty amic'ble. We'all goes trackin' up to thehouse, a preacher is rushed to the scene from Pineknot, an' themnuptials between Sarah Ann an' me is sol'mnized. Shore, Jenks an' Benis thar. They're found by a committee of their friends scattered aboutat the foot of the hollow, an' is collected an' brought up to theweddin' in blankets. Dave Daniels, who surveys the scene next day,says you could plant corn whar they fit, it's that plowed up.
"'Followin' the cer'mony Marm Bender an' the old gent takes me intotheir hearts an' cabin like I'm their own an' only son. He's a greatold daddy-in-law, old Bender is, an' is ven'rated for forty milesabout Gingham Mountain, as deevoted heart an' soul to baldface,seven-up an' sin in any shape.
"'That match-makin' catamount?
"'We hives him. Me an' my new daddy-in-law tracks him to his reetreat,an' when we're through he's plumb used up. I confers the pelt on mySarah Ann; an' she spreads it on the floor over by her side of thebed, so as to put her little number sevens on it when she boils out ofa winter's mornin' to light the fire, an' rustle me my matoot'nalbuckwheat cakes an' sa'sage.'"