Balaam and His Master, and Other Sketches and Stories. Joel Chandler Harris
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Название: Balaam and His Master, and Other Sketches and Stories
Автор: Joel Chandler Harris
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664589668
isbn:
“No,” said he; “Spurlock is not sick. He is a sounder man than I am. He was conscripted in Jasper and carried to Adairsville, and after he got used to the camp he concluded that he would come home and tell his folks good-by.”
“Now that’s jes like Israel,” said Uncle Billy, closing his eyes and compressing his lips—“jes like him for the world. He knowed that he was drug off right spang at the time he wanted to be getherin’ in his craps, an’ savin’ his ruffage, an’ one thing an’ another bekaze his ole mammy didn’t have a soul to help her but ’im. I reckon he’s been a-housin’ his corn an’ sich like. The ole ’oman tuck on might’ly when Israel was snatched into the army.”
“How far is it to shelter?” inquired Captain Moseley.
“Not so mighty fur,” responded Uncle Billy, whittling the pine bark more cautiously. “Jes keep in the middle of the road an’ you’ll soon come to it. Ef I ain’t thar before you, jes holler for Aunt Crissy an’ tell her that you saw Uncle Billy some’r’s in the woods an’ he told you to wait for ’im.”
With that, Captain Moseley and Private Chadwick spurred their horses up the mountain road, leaving Uncle Billy whittling.
“Well, dang my buttons!” exclaimed Chadwick, when they were out of hearing.
“What now?” asked the captain, turning in his saddle. Private Chadwick had stopped his horse and was looking back down the mountain as if he expected to be pursued.
“I wish I may die,” he went on, giving his horse the rein, “if we ain’t walked right square into it with our eyes wide open.”
“Into what?” asked the captain, curtly.
“Into trouble,” said Chadwick. “Oh,” he exclaimed, looking at his companion seriously, “you may grin behind your beard, but you just wait till the fun begins—all the grins you can muster will be mighty dry grins. Why, Cap., I could read that old chap as if he was a newspaper. Whilst he was a-watchin’ you I was a-watchin’ him, an’ if he ain’t got a war map printed on his face I ain’t never saw none in the ‘Charleston Mercury.’ ”
“The old man is a preacher,” said Captain Moseley in a tone that seemed to dispose of the matter.
“Well, the Lord help us!” exclaimed Chadwick. “In about the wuss whippin’ I ever got was from a young feller that was preachin’ an’ courtin’ in my neighborhood. I sorter sassed him about a gal he was flyin’ around, an’ he upped an’ frailed me out, an’ got the gal to boot. Don’t tell me about no preachers. Why, that chap flew at me like a Stonefence rooster, an’ he fluttered twice to my once.”
“And have you been running from preachers ever since?” dryly inquired the captain.
“Not as you may say, constantly a-runnin’,” replied Chadwick; “yit I ain’t been a-flingin’ no sass at ’em; an’ my reason tells me for to give ’em the whole wedth of the big road when I meet ’em.”
“Well,” said the captain, “what will you do about this preacher?”
“A man in a corner,” responded Chadwick, “is obleeged to do the best he kin. I’ll jest keep my eye on him, an’ the fust motion he makes, I’ll”—
“Run?” suggested the captain.
“Well, now,” said Chadwick, “a man in a corner can’t most ingener’lly run. Git me hemmed in, an’ I’ll scratch an’ bite an’ scuffle the best way I know how. It’s human natur’, an’ I’m mighty glad it is; for if that old man’s eyes didn’t tell no lies we’ll have to scratch an’ scuffle before we git away from this mountain.”
Captain Moseley bit his mustache and smiled grimly as the tired horses toiled up the road. A vague idea of possible danger had crossed his mind while talking to Uncle Billy Powers, but he dismissed it at once as a matter of little importance to a soldier bent on carrying out his orders at all hazards.
It was not long before the two travelers found themselves on a plateau formed by a shoulder of the mountain. On this plateau were abundant signs of life. Cattle were grazing about among the trees, chickens were crowing, and in the distance could be heard the sound of a woman’s voice singing. As they pressed forward along the level road they came in sight of a cabin, and the blue smoke curling from its short chimney was suggestive of hospitality. It was a comfortable-looking cabin, too, flanked by several outhouses. The buildings, in contrast with the majestic bulk of the mountain, that still rose precipitously skyward, were curiously small, but there was an air of more than ordinary neatness and coziness about them. And there were touches of feminine hands here and there that made an impression—rows of well-kept boxwood winding like a green serpent through the yard, and a privet hedge that gave promise of rare sweetness in the spring.
As the soldiers approached, a dog barked, and then the singing ceased, and the figure of a young girl appeared in the doorway, only to disappear like a flash. This vision, vanishing with incredible swiftness, was succeeded by a more substantial one in the shape of a motherly looking woman, who stood gazing over her spectacles at the horsemen, apparently undecided whether to frown or to smile. The smile would have undoubtedly forced its way to the pleasant face in any event, for the years had fashioned many a pathway for it, but just then Uncle Billy Powers himself pushed the woman aside and made his appearance, laughing.
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