ILLER accompanied Alan to the door. Old Trabue stood in front of his office in his shirt-sleeves, his battered1 silk hat on the back part of his head. He was fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan and freely using his handkerchief on his brow. He bowed cordially to Alan and came towards him.
"I want to ask you," he began, "as Pole Baker2 any way of raisin3' money?"
"Not that I know of," laughed Alan. "I don't know whether he's got a clear title to the shirt on his back. He owes everybody out our way. My father is supplying him on time now."
"That was my impression," said Trabue. "He wanted me to defend 'im the other day, but he couldn't satisfy me about the fee, an' I let him go. He first said he could give me a lien4 on a mule5, but he finally admitted that it wasn't his."
"He's not in trouble, is he?" exclaimed Alan, suddenly recalling Mrs. Baker's uneasiness.
Trabue looked at Miller6, who stood leaning in the doorway7, and laughed. "Well, I reckon he might call it that. That chap owned the town two days ago. He got blind, stavin' drunk, an' wanted to whip us from one end o' the place to the other. The marshals are afraid of 'im, for they know he 'll shoot at the drop of a hat, an' the butt8 of it was stickin' out o' his hippocket in plain sight. Was you thar, Rayburn? Well, it was better 'n a circus. Day before yesterday thar was a sort o' street temperance lecturer in front o' the Johnston House, speakin' on a dry-goods box. He had a lot o' gaudy10 pictures illustratin' the appearance of a drinkin' man' s stomach an' liver, compared to one in a healthy condition. He was a sort of a snide faker, out fer what he could git dropped in a hat, an' Pole was sober enough to git on to his game. Pole stood thar with the rest, jest about able to stand, an' that was all. Finally, when the feller got warmed up an' got to screechin', Pole begun to deny what he was sayin'. As fast as he'd make a statement Pole would flatly deny it. The feller on the box didn't know what a tough customer he had to handle or he'd 'a' gone slow. As it was, he p'inted a finger o' scorn at Pole an' helt 'im up fer a example. Pole wasn't sober by a long shot, but you'd 'a' thought he was, fer he was as steady as a post. He kept grinnin', as cool as a cucumber, an' sayin', 'Now you know yo' re a-lyin', stranger—jest a-lyin' to get a few dimes11 drapped in yore hat. You know nobody's stomach don't look like that durn chromo. You never seed inside of a drinkin' man, an' yo' re the biggest liar12 that ever walked the earth.' This made the crowd laugh at the little, dried-up feller, an' he got as mad as Old Nick. He begun to tell Pole his liver was swelled13 from too much whiskey, an' that he'd bet he was jest the sort to beat his wife. Most of us thought that ud make Pole jump on 'im, but he seemed to enjoy naggin' the feller too much to sp'ile it by a fight. A nigger boy had been carryin' round a bell and a sign advertisin' Webb's auction14 sale, an' stopped to see the fun. Pole heerd the tinkle15 of the bell, an' tuck it an' begun to ring it in the lecturer's face. The harder the feller spoke16 the harder Pole rung. It was the damnedest racket ever heerd on a public square. Part of the crowd—the good church folks—begun to say it was a disgrace to the town to allow a stranger to be treated that away, sence thar was no law agin public speakin' in the streets. They was in fer callin' a halt, but all the rest—the drinkin' men, an' I frankly17 state I was one—secretly hoped Pole would ring 'im down. When the pore devil finally won I felt like yellin' hooray, fer I glory in the pluck even of a dare-devil, if he's a North Georgian an' white. The lecturer had to stop without his collection, an' went off to the council chamber18 swearin' agin the town fer allowin' him to be treated that away. Thar wasn't anything fer the mayor to do but order Pole's arrest, but it took four men—two regulars and two deputized men—to accomplish it.
"The trial was the richest thing I ever attended. Pole had sobered up jest enough to be witty19, an' he had no more respect fer Bill Barrett's court than he had fer the lecturer's platform. Him an' Barrett used to fish an' hunt together when they was boys, an' Pole kept callin' him Bill. It was Bill this an' Bill that; an' as Barrett had only been in office a month, he hardly knew how to rise to his proper dignity, especially when he saw the crowd was laughin' at his predicament. When I declined to defend 'im, Pole attempted to read the law on the case to Barrett an' show whar he was right. Barrett let 'im talk because he didn't know how to stop 'im, an' Pole made the best defence I ever heerd from a unlettered man. It kept the crowd in a roar. For a while I swear it looked like Pole was goin' to cleer hisse'f, but Barrett had to do his duty, an' so he fined Pole thirty dollars, or in default thereof to break rock on the streets fer ten days. You ort to 'a' heerd Pole snort. 'Looky heer, Bill!' he said, 'you know as well as yo're a-settin' cocked up thar, makin' folks say 'yore honor' ever' breath they draw, that I ain't a-goin' to break no rock in that br'ilin' sun fer ten day 'ca'se I beat that skunk20 at his own game!'
"You 'll have to do it if you don't pay out," Barrett told 'im.
"'Well, I jest won't pay out, an' I won't break rock nuther,' Pole said. 'You've heerd about the feller that could lead a hoss to water but couldn't make 'im drink, hain't you? Well, I'm the hoss.'
"Yesterday was Pole's fust day on the street. They put a ball an' chain to one of his ankles an' sent 'im out with the nigger gang, but all day yesterday an' to-day he hain't worked a lick. He's as stubborn as a mule. Thar's been a crowd around 'im all the time. You kin9 see 'im standin' up as straight as a post in the middle of the street from one end of it to the other. I'm sorter sorry fer 'im; he looks like he's ashamed at bottom, but don't want to give in. The funniest thing about the whole thing is that Pole seems to know more about the law than the mayor. He says unless they force him to work in the specified21 ten days they can't hold him any longer, an' that if they attempt to flog 'im he 'll kill the first man that lays hands on him. I think Bill Barrett likes him too well to have 'im whipped, an' the whole town is guyin' him, an' axin' 'im why he don't make Pole set in."
Alan went down the street to see Pole. He found him seated on a large stone, a long-handled rock-hammer at his feet. He looked up from under his broad-brimmed hat, and a crestfallen22 look came into his big, brown eyes.
"I'm sorry to see this, Pole," said Alan.
Pole stood up at his full height, the chain clanking as he rose. "They hain't treated me right about this matter, Alan Bishop23," he said, half resentfully, half as if he recognized his own error. "Bill knows he hain't done the fair thing. I know I was full, but I jest wanted to have my fun. That don't justify24 him in puttin' me out heer with these niggers fer folks to gap' at, an' he knows it. He ain't a friend right. Me 'n' him has slep' together on the same pile o' leaves, an' I've let 'im pull down on a squirrel when I could 'a' knocket it from its perch25; an' I've lent 'im my pointer an' gun many an' many a time. But he's showed what he is! He's got the wrong sow by the yeer, though, fer ef he keeps me heer till Christmas I 'll never crack a rock, unless I do it by accidentally step-pin' on it. Mark my words, Alan Bishop, thar 'll be trouble out o' this."
"Don't talk that way, Pole," said Alan. "You've broken the law and they had to punish you for it. If they hadn't they would have made themselves ridiculous. Why didn't you send me word you were in trouble, Pole?"
The fellow hung his head, and then he blurted27 out:
"Beca'se I knowed you would make a fool o' yorese'f an' try to pay me out. Damn it, Alan Bishop, this ain't no business o' yore'n!"
"I 'll make it my business," said Alan. "How much is your fine? You ought to have sent me word."
"Sent you hell, Alan Bishop," growled28 the prisoner. "When I send you word to he'p me out of a scrape that whiskey got me into I 'll do it after I've decently cut my throat. I say!—when you've plead with me like you have to quit the durn stuff!"
At this point of the conversation Jeff Dukes, a man of medium size, dressed in dark-blue uniform, with a nickel-plated badge shaped like a shield and bearing the words "Marshal No. 2," came directly towards them from a stone-cutter's shop near by.
"Look heer, Bishop," he said, dictatorially29, "whar'd you git the right to talk to that man?"
Alan looked surprised. "Am I breaking the law, too?"
"You are, ef you hain't got a permit from the mayor in yore pocket."
"Well, I have no permit," replied Alan, with a good-natured smile. "Have you got another ball an' chain handy?"
The officer frowned off his inclination30 to treat the matter as a jest. "You ort to have more sense than that," he said, crustily. "Pole's put out heer to work his time out, an' ef everybody in town is allowed to laugh an' joke with him he'd crack about as many rocks as you or me."
"You are a durn liar, Jeff Dukes," said Pole, angrily. "You are a-makin' that up to humiliate31 me furder. You know no law like that never was inforced. Ef I ever git you out in Pea Vine Destrict I 'll knock a dent26 in that egg-shaped head o' yor'n, an' make them eyes look two ways fer Sunday. You know a gentleman like Alan Bishop wouldn't notice you under ordinary circumstances, an' so you trump32 up that excuse to git his attention."
The two men glared at each other, but Pole seemed to get the best of that sort of combat, for the officer only growled.
"You can insult a man when you are under arrest," he said, "beca'se you know I am under bond to keep the peace. But I'm not afeerd of you."
"They tell me you are afeerd o' sperits, though," retorted the prisoner. "They tell me a little nigger boy that was shot when a passle o' skunks33 went to whip his daddy fer vagrancy34 stands at the foot o' yore bed ever' night. Oh, I know what I'm a-talkin' about!"
"Yes, you know a lots," said the man, sullenly35, as his eyes fell.
To avoid encouraging the disputants further, Alan walked suddenly away. The marshal took willing advantage of the opportunity and followed him.
"I could make a case agin you," he said, catching36 up, "but I know you didn't mean to violate the ordinance37."
"No, of course I didn't," said Alan; "but I want to know if that fellow could be released if I paid his fine."
"You are not fool enough to do it, are you?"
"That's what I am."
"Have you got the money in yore pocket?" The officer was laughing, as if at a good joke.
"I have."
"Well"—the marshal laughed again as he swung his short club round by a string that fastened it to his wrist—"well, you come with me, an' I 'll show you a man that wants thirty dollars wuss than any man I know of. I don't believe Bill Barrett has slept a wink38 sence this thing happened. He 'll be tickled39 to death to git off so easy. The town has devilled the life out of him. He don't go by whar Pole's at work—I mean, whar he ain't at work—fer Pole yells at 'im whenever he sees 'im."
That night when Alan reached home he sent a servant over to tell Mrs. Baker that Pole was all right and that he'd be home soon. He had eaten his supper and had gone up-stairs to go to bed when he heard his name called outside. Going to a window and looking out, he recognized Pole Baker standing40 at the gate in the clear moonlight.
"Alan," he said, softly, "come down heer a minute. I want to see you."
Alan went down and joined him. For a moment Pole stood leaning against the fence, his eyes hidden by his broad-brimmed slouch hat.
"Did you want to see me, Pole?" Alan asked.
"Yes, I did," the fellow swallowed. He made a motion as if to reach out his hand, but refrained. Then he looked straight into Alan's face.
"I couldn't go to sleep till I'd said some 'n' to you," he began, with another gulp41. "I laid down an' made a try at it, but it wasn't no go. I've got to say it. I'm heer to swear that ef God, or some 'n' else, don't show me a way to pay you back fer what you done to-day, I 'll never draw a satisfied breath. Alan Bishop, yo're a man, God damn it! a man from yore outside skin to the marrow42 o' yore bones, an' ef I don't find some way to prove what I think about you, I 'll jest burn up! I got into that trouble as thoughtless as I'd play a prank43 with my baby, an' then they all come down on me an' begun to try to drive me like a hog44 out'n a field with rocks an' sticks, an' the very Old Harry45 riz in me an' defied 'em. I reckon thar wasn't anything Bill could do but carry out the law, an' I knowed it, but I wasn't ready to admit it. Then you come along an' rendered a verdict in my favor when you needed the money you did it with. Alan, ef I don't show my appreciation46, it 'll be beca'se I don't live long enough. You never axed me but one thing, an' that was to quit drinkin' whiskey. I'm goin' to make a try at it, not beca'se I think that 'll pay you back, but beca'se with a sober head I kin be a better friend to you ef the chance ever comes my way."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Pole," replied Alan, greatly moved by the fellow's earnestness. "I believe you can do it. Then your wife and children—"
"Damn my wife an' children," snorted Pole. "It's you I'm a-goin' to work fer—you, I say!"
He suddenly turned through the open gate and strode homeward across the fields. Alan stood looking after him till his tall form was lost in the hazy47 moonlight, and then he went up to his bed.
Pole entered the open door of his cabin and began to undress as he sat on the side of his crude bedstead, made of unbarked poles fastened to the bare logs in one corner of the room. His wife and children slept on two beds on the other side of the room.
"Did you see 'im, Pole?" piped up Mrs. Baker from the darkness.
"Yes, I seed 'im. Sally, say, whar's that bottle o' whiskey I had the last time I was at home?"
There was an ominous48 silence. Out of it rose the soft breathing of the children. Then the woman sighed. "Pole, shorely you ain't a-goin' to begin agin?"
"No, I want to bu'st it into smithereens. I don't want it about—I don't want to know thar's a drap in the house. I've swore off, an' this time she sticks. Gi'me that bottle."
Another silence. Suddenly the woman spoke. "Pole, you've swore off as many times as a dog has fleas49. Often when I feel bad an' sick when you are off, a drap o' whiskey makes me feel better. I don't want you to destroy the last bit in the house jest be-ca'se you've tuck this turn, that may wear off before daylight. The last time you emptied that keg on the ground an' swore off you got on a spree an' helt the baby over the well an' threatened to drap 'er in ef I didn't find a bottle, an' you'd 'a' done it, too."
Pole laughed softly. "I reckon yo' re right, old gal," he said. "Besides, ef I can' t—ef I ain't man enough to let up with a bottle in the house I won't do it without. But the sight or smell of it is hell itse'f to a lover of the truck. Ef I was to tell you what a little thing started me on this last spree you'd laugh. I went to git a shave in a barber shop, an' when the barber finished he soaked my face in bay-rum an' it got in my mustache. I kept smellin' it all mornin' an' tried to wipe it off, but she wouldn't wipe. All the time I kept walkin' up an' down in front o' Luke Sell-more's bar. Finally I said to myself: 'Well, ef you have to have a bar-room stuck under yore nose all day like a wet sponge, old man, you mought as well have one whar it 'll taste better, an' I slid up to the counter." The woman sighed audibly, but she made no reply. "Is Billy awake?" Pole suddenly asked.
"No, you know he ain't," said Mrs. Baker.
"Well, I want to take 'im in my bed." Pole stood out on the floor in the sheet of moonlight that fell through the open door.
"I wouldn't, Pole," said the woman. "The pore little feller's been toddlin' about after the others, draggin' bresh to the heap tell he's tired. He drapped to sleep at the table with a piece o' bread in his mouth."
"I won't wake 'im, God bless his little heart," answered Pole, and he reached down and took the limp child in his arms and pressed him against the side of his face. He carried him tenderly across the room and laid down with him. His wife heard him uttering endearing things to the unconscious child until she fell asleep.
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1
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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raisin
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| n.葡萄干 | |
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lien
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| n.扣押权，留置权 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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9
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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10
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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11
dimes
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| n.（美国、加拿大的）10分铸币( dime的名词复数 ) | |
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12
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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13
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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14
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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15
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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16
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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21
specified
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| adj.特定的 | |
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crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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24
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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27
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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dictatorially
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| adv.独裁地，自大地 | |
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30
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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31
humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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32
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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33
skunks
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| n.臭鼬( skunk的名词复数 )；臭鼬毛皮；卑鄙的人；可恶的人 | |
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34
vagrancy
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| （说话的，思想的）游移不定； 漂泊； 流浪； 离题 | |
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35
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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ordinance
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| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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39
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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40
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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41
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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42
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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43
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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44
hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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45
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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46
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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47
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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48
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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49
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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