CHAPTER 12.
BACK TO KINGDOM COME
It was the tournament that, at last, loosed Mammy's tongue. She wassavage in her denunciation of Chad to Mrs. Dean--so savage and in suchplain language that her mistress checked her sharply, but not beforeMargaret had heard, though the little girl, with an awed face, slippedquietly out of the room into the yard, while Harry stood in thedoorway, troubled and silent.
"Don't let me hear you speak that way again Mammy," said Mrs. Dean, sosternly that the old woman swept out of the room in high dudgeon Andyet she told her husband of Mammy's charge;
"I am rather surprised at Major Buford."
"Perhaps he doesn't know," said the General. "Perhaps it isn't true."
"Nobody knows anything about the boy."
"Well, I cannot have my children associating with a waif."
"He seems like a nice boy."
"He uses extraordinary language. I cannot have him teaching my childrenmischief. Why I believe Margaret is really fond of him. I know Harryand Dan are." The General looked thoughtful.
"I will speak to Major Buford about him," he said, and he did--nolittle to that gentleman's confusion--though he defended Chadstaunchly--and the two friends parted with some heat.
Thereafter, the world changed for Chad, for is there any older andtruer story than that Evil has wings, while Good goes a plodding way?Chad felt the change, in the negroes, in the sneering overseer, andcould not understand. The rumor reached Miss Lucy's ears and she andthe Major had a spirited discussion that rather staggered Chad'skind-hearted companion. It reached the school, and a black-hairedyoungster, named Georgie Forbes, who had long been one of Margaret'sabject slaves, and who hated Chad, brought out the terrible charge inthe presence of a dozen school-children at noon-recess one day. It hadbeen no insult in the mountains, but Chad, dazed though he was, knew itwas meant for an insult, and his hard fist shot out promptly, landingin his enemy's chin and bringing him bawling to the earth. Others gaveout the cry then, and the boy fought right and left like a demon. Danstood sullenly near, taking no part, and Harry, while he stopped theunequal fight, turned away from Chad coldly, calling Margaret, who hadrun up toward them, away at the same time, and Chad's three friendsturned from him then and there, while the boy, forgetting all else,stood watching them with dumb wonder and pain. The school-bell clanged,but Chad stood still--with his heart well nigh breaking. In a fewminutes the last pupil had disappeared through the school-room door,and Chad stood under a great elm--alone. But only a moment, for heturned quickly away, the tears starting to his eyes, walked rapidlythrough the woods, climbed the worm fence beyond, and dropped, sobbing,in the thick bluegrass.
An hour later he was walking swiftly through the fields toward the oldbrick house that had sheltered him. He was very quiet at supper thatnight, and after Miss Lucy had gone to bed and he and the Major wereseated before the fire, he was so quiet that the Major looked at himanxiously.
"What's the matter Chad? Are you sick?"
"Nothin'--no, sir."
But the Major was uneasy, and when he rose to go to bed, he went overand put his hand on the boy's head.
"Chad," he said, "if you hear of people saying mean things about you,you mustn't pay any attention to them."
"No, sir."
"You're a good boy, and I want you to live here with me. Good-night,Chad," he added, affectionately. Chad nearly broke down, but hesteadied himself.
"Good-by, Major," he said, brokenly. "I'm obleeged to you."
"Good-by?" repeated the Major. "Why?"
"Good-night, I mean," stammered Chad.
The Major stood inside his own door, listening to the boy's slow stepsup the second flight. "I'm gettin' to love that boy," he said,wonderingly--"An' I'm damned if people who talk about him don't have meto reckon with"--and the Major shook his head from side to side.Several times he thought he could hear the boy moving around in theroom above him, and while he was wondering why the lad did not go tobed, he fell asleep.
Chad was moving around. First, by the light of a candle, he laboriouslydug out a short letter to the Major--scalding it with tears. Then hetook off his clothes and got his old mountain-suit out of thecloset--moccasins and all--and put them on. Very carefully he foldedthe pretty clothes he had taken off--just as Miss Lucy had taughthim--and laid them on the bed. Then he picked up his old rifle in onehand and his old coonskin cap in the other, blew out the candle,slipped noiselessly down the stairs in his moccasined feet, out theunbolted door and into the starlit night. From the pike fence he turnedonce to look back to the dark, silent house amid the dark trees. Thenhe sprang down and started through the fields--his face set toward themountains.
It so happened that mischance led General Dean to go over to see MajorBuford about Chad next morning. The Major listened patiently--or triedineffectively to listen--and when the General was through, he burst outwith a vehemence that shocked and amazed his old friend.
"Damn those niggers!" he cried, in a tone that seemed to include theGeneral in his condemnation, "that boy is the best boy I ever knew. Ibelieve he is my own blood, he looks a little like that picturethere"--pointing to the old portrait--"and if he is what I believe heis, by ----, sir, he gets this farm and all I have. Do you understandthat?"
"I believe he told you what he was."
"He did--but I don't believe he knows, and, anyhow, whatever he is, heshall have a home under this roof as long as he lives."
The General rose suddenly--stiffly.
"He must never darken my door again."
"Very well." The Major made a gesture which plainly said, "In thatevent, you are darkening mine too long," and the General rose, slowlydescended the steps of the portico, and turned:
"Do you really mean, that you are going to let a little brat that youpicked up in the road only yesterday stand between you and me?"
The Major softened.
"Look here," he said, whisking a sheet of paper from his coat-pocket.While the General read Chad's scrawl, the Major watched his face.
"He's gone, by ----. A hint was enough for him. If he isn't the son ofa gentleman, then I'm not, nor you."
"Cal," said the General, holding out his hand, "we'll talk this overagain."
The bees buzzed around the honeysuckles that clambered over the porch.A crow flew overhead. The sound of a crying child came around thecorner of the house from the quarters, and the General's footsteps diedon the gravel-walk, but the Major heard them not. Mechanically hewatched the General mount his black horse and canter toward the pikegate. The overseer called to him from the stable, but the Major droppedhis eyes to the scrawl in his hand, and when Miss Lucy came out hesilently handed it to her.
"I reckon you know what folks is a-sayin' about me. I tol' you myself.But I didn't know hit wus any harm, and anyways hit ain't my fault, Ireckon, an' I don't see how folks can blame me. But I don' want nobodywho don' want me. An' I'm leavin' 'cause I don't want to bother you. Inever bring nothing but trouble nohow an' I'm goin' back to themountains. Tell Miss Lucy good-by. She was mighty good to me, but Iknow she didn't like me. I left the hoss for you. If you don't have nouse fer the saddle, I wish you'd give hit to Harry, 'cause he tuk upfer me at school when I was fightin', though he wouldn't speak to me nomore. I'm mighty sorry to leave you. I'm obleeged to you cause you wusso good to me an' I'm goin' to see you agin some day, if I can.Good-by."
"Left that damned old mare to pay for his clothes and his board and hisschooling," muttered the Major. "By the gods"--he rose suddenly andstrode away--"I beg your pardon, Lucy."
A tear was running down each of Miss Lucy's faded cheeks.
Dawn that morning found Chad springing from a bed in a haystack--tenmiles from Lexington. By dusk that day, he was on the edge of theBluegrass and that night he stayed at a farm-house, going in boldly,for he had learned now that the wayfarer was as welcome in a Bluegrassfarm-house as in a log-cabin in the mountains. Higher and higher grewthe green swelling slopes, until, climbing one about noon next day, hes
aw the blue foothills of the Cumberland through the clear air--and hestopped and looked long, breathing hard from pure ecstasy. Theplain-dweller never knows the fierce home hunger that the mountain-bornhave for hills.
Besides, beyond those blue summits were the Turners and theschool-master and Jack, waiting for him, and he forgot hunger andweariness as he trod on eagerly toward them. That night, he stayed in amountain-cabin, and while the contrast of the dark room, the crowdingchildren, the slovenly dress, and the coarse food was strangelydisagreeable, along with the strange new shock came the thrill that allthis meant hills and home. It was about three o'clock of the fourth daythat, tramping up the Kentucky River, he came upon a long, even stretchof smooth water, from the upper end of which two black boulders werethrust out of the stream, and with a keener thrill he realized that hewas nearing home. He recalled seeing those rocks as the raft swept downthe river, and the old Squire had said that they were named afteroxen--"Billy and Buck." Opposite the rocks he met a mountaineer.
"How fer is it to Uncle Joel Turner's?"
"A leetle the rise o' six miles, I reckon."
The boy was faint with weariness, and those six miles seemed a dozen.Idea of distance is vague among the mountaineers, and two hours ofweary travel followed, yet nothing that he recognized was in sight.Once a bend of the river looked familiar, but when he neared it, theroad turned steeply from the river and over a high bluff, and the boystarted up with a groan. He meant to reach the summit before he stoppedto rest, but in sheer pain, he dropped a dozen paces from the top andlay with his tongue, like a dog's, between his lips.
The top was warm, but a chill was rising from the fast-darkeningshadows below him. The rim of the sun was about to brush the green tipof a mountain across the river, and the boy rose in a minute, draggedhimself on to the point where, rounding a big rock, he dropped againwith a thumping heart and a reeling brain. There it was--old Joel'scabin in the pretty valley below--old Joel's cabin--home! Smoke wasrising from the chimney, and that far away it seemed that Chad couldsmell frying bacon. There was the old barn and he could make out one ofthe boys feeding stock and another chopping wood--was that theschool-master? There was the huge form of old Joel at the fence talkingwith a neighbor. He was gesticulating as though angry, and the oldmother came to the door as the neighbor moved away with a shufflinggait that the boy knew belonged to the Dillon breed. Where was Jack?Jack! Chad sprang to his feet and went down the hill on a run. Heclimbed the orchard fence, breaking the top rail in his eagerness, andas he neared the house, he gave a shrill yell. A scarlet figure flashedlike a flame out of the door, with an answering cry, and the Turnersfollowed:
"Why, boy," roared old Joel. "Mammy, hit's Chad!"
Dolph dropped an armful of feed. The man with the axe left it stuck ina log, and each man shouted:
"Chad!"
The mountaineers are an undemonstrative race, but Mother Turner tookthe boy in her arms and the rest crowded around, slapping him on theback and all asking questions at once. Dolph and Rube and Tom. Yes, andthere was the school-master--every face was almost tender with love forthe boy. But where was Jack?
"Where's--where's Jack?" said Chad.
Old Joel changed face--looking angry; the rest were grave. Only the oldmother spoke:
"Jack's all right."
"Oh," said Chad, but he looked anxious.
Melissa inside heard. He had not asked for HER, and with the suddenchoking of a nameless fear she sprang out the door to be caught by theschool-master, who had gone around the corner to look for her.
"Lemme go," she said, fiercely, breaking his hold and darting away, butstopping, when she saw Chad in the doorway, looking at her with a shysmile.
"Howdye, Melissa!"
The girl stared at him mildly and made no answer, and a wave of shameand confusion swept over the boy as his thoughts flashed back to alittle girl in a black cap and on a black pony, and he stood reddeningand helpless. There was a halloo at the gate. It was old SquireMiddleton and the circuit-rider, and old Joel went toward them with adarkening face.
"Why, hello, Chad," the Squire said. "You back again?"
He turned to Joel.
"Look hyeh, Joel. Thar hain't no use o' your buckin' agin yo' neighborsand harborin' a sheep-killin' dog." Chad started and looked from oneface to another--slowly but surely making out the truth.
"You never seed the dawg afore last spring. You don't know that hehain't a sheep-killer."
"It's a lie--a lie," Chad cried, hotly, but the school-master stoppedhim.
"Hush, Chad," he said, and he took the boy inside and told him Jack wasin trouble. A Dillon sheep had been found dead on a hill-side. DawsDillon had come upon Jack leaping out of the pasture, and Jack had comehome with his muzzle bloody. Even with this overwhelming evidence, oldJoel stanchly refused to believe the dog was guilty and ordered old manDillon off the place. A neighbor had come over, then another, and another, until old Joel got livid with rage.
"That dawg mought eat a dead sheep but he never would kill a live one,and if you kill him, by ----, you've got to kill me fust."
Now there is no more unneighborly or unchristian act for a farmer thanto harbor a sheep-killing dog. So the old Squire and the circuit-riderhad come over to show Joel the grievous error of his selfish, obstinatecourse, and, so far, old Joel had refused to be shown. All of his sonssturdily upheld him and little Melissa fiercely--the old mother and theschool-master alone remaining quiet and taking no part in thedissension.
"Have they got Jack?"
"No, Chad," said the school-master. "He's safe--tied up in the stable."Chad started out, and no one followed but Melissa. A joyous bark thatwas almost human came from the stable as Chad approached, for the dogmust have known the sound of his master's footsteps, and when Chad drewopen the door, Jack sprang the length of his tether to meet him and wasjerked to his back. Again and again he sprang, barking, as thoughbeside himself, while Chad stood at the door, looking sorrowfully athim.
"Down, Jack!" he said sternly, and Jack dropped obediently, lookingstraight at his master with honest eyes and whimpering like a child.
"Jack," said Chad, "did you kill that sheep?" This was all strangeconduct for his little master, and Jack looked wondering and dazed, buthis eyes never wavered or blinked. Chad could not long stand thosehonest eyes.
"No," he said, fiercely--"no, little doggie, no--no!" And Chad droppedon his knees and took Jack in his arms and hugged him to his breast.